Newborn

This second meeting with the vampire was far different than the young man’s first.

Then the young man had been sneaking and sulking through the lair of a monster. He had been cautious and quiet. He had brought special weapons and tools given by an ancient order dedicated to fighting such beasts. Then the thing had bound him in shadow and whispered in his mind.

Now he had burst down the door with a kick and bellowed out a challenge. The creature hissed in answer. He could see its shape clearly. He could strike it, contend with it. He could laugh at it, something he had feared before he could mock now.

“Hold!” said the vampire as it leapt away.

“I have no reason to stop fighting you, demon.”

“Still you use their words instead of your own! Do you not realized what I truly am? What you now are?”

The young man roared out a laugh and charged again. The two struck blow after blow: the fight lasted minutes. Neither noticed, and the young man did not stop to consider that no mortal fistfight would last more than a few seconds. They wrestled their way out to the street. People scattered as they threw each other into signposts and mailboxes, a cafe’s patio seating was ruined and one man left his car barely ahead of one of the combatants being slammed deep into its frame.

The young man folded pieces of metal away as he climbed out of the wreck. The vampire stood a few feet away and he could see him clearly now.

“See?” The vampire spread his hands wide and spun around slowly looking over the chaos. He was tall, and muscular. He wore a kilt and boots but no shirt. His skin was yellow and his hair was white. There was a red-and-black tattoo that pulsed on his chest. “They cannot see us, you know. They cannot understand. They will never have our vision. Only we have the sight to see a thing through. And I have given you the strength now.”

The young man stood in the sun, the vampire was in the shade of one of the tall buildings allowed. He suddenly realized the sun burned his skin, as if he was on a beach dosed in oil. He moved to the shade himself. He could hear the heartbeat of every human around as they ran from him in terror. Scattered, misguided, random and inconsitan the beatings of the hearts of man were. Louder than any of their directionless hearts he could hear his own. Slow and purposeful, deliberate. He felt his own heart on his skin. He tore at his shirt and saw the same red-and-black pulsing tattoo.

“This is your heart now, your own unique brand. You and only you may say what it means.” The vampire smiled as he offered his hand. “Welcome Brother. What is your name they gave you when you were human?”

The young man looked over his own arms before straightening and grasping the vampire’s hand. “Vlad,” he said, “they called me Vlad.”