Page 4 of Undying
I remember scrambling to find a place to hide.
Of being taken.
I’m not associated with a blood house. I’m one of the few free humans left in the city. If a vampire were to catch me after curfew, I’d become a blood whore and available for anyone to drain.
Vampires brag that they run a clean city, that they make the world safer.
No more crime at night.
No murders.
No rapes.
No homeless.
They claim to be our saviors.
I call them murderers.
They hide behind their arbitrary rules and hunt humans like prey, relishing the freedom to do so openly now that they’re no longer banished to the shadows. There is no crime or homelessness because the vampires captured them under the guise of being out after curfew. None of the hapless humans ever return, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out they’re dead, vanished within the blood houses.
There are two types of vampires—the rich and powerful who rule the clans, and the gangs who are nothing more than feral animals, every bit of humanity stripped away from them long ago.
Ferals are the dredges of the vampire society.
The ones who would do anything, risk anything, to gain a spot in one of the thirteen vampire families that run the new world with an iron fist.
It’s a joke.
The vampires promised a better future.
No more wars, no more famine.
They promised prosperity and peace for all.
What they meant is peace for vampires.
And they have the power to enforce it.
The states have been split into different vampire territories, divided amongst the thirteen families. They run the country like the mafia, controlling the courtrooms, laws, and big businesses, while the feral gangs control the streets.
I live in Dafoe territory, and the master of the blood house believes he owns everyone in his territory—humans and vampires alike.
Including me.
He’s a power hungry bastard who won’t take no for an answer.
I refuse to associate with the blood houses, refuse to give a weekly blood tax in exchange for certain privileges or luxuries, such as food and protection after dark.
Charles, the master, found my resistance intriguing…at first.
Now, two years later, he’s getting impatient.
The gifts and invitations stopped arriving two months ago.
Instead, I’ve noticed people watching me.
Following me.
