Ten Years Earlier

A fifteen year old Nicholas stood by the window to his upstairs bedroom. He looked through his curtains and at the dark blue car moving down the driveway and away from the house. He had no set plans for this day, only the idea for the opportunity. And as the car disappeared around the bend, Nicholas knew this day would be the end of everything.
     He calmly left the room and made his way to the lowest level of the house, a place he was forbidden to go ever since the death of his mother. This was his father’s sanctuary. For hours he would lock himself downstairs and took the roll of a grieving husband to a dark place.
     Nicholas first heard the screaming coming from downstairs three months after his father fell into seclusion. He had to ignore the pain, whereas his father chose to bathe within it.
     Nicholas’ mother, as strong and brave as she was, found herself alone and in the sights of a ruthless vampire. Through the details of the incident were never divulged to him, he learned the truth from the pack’s beta.
     His father, Richard, discovered his wife unconscious in a field miles from their home. When he tried to help her, the vampire attacked and bound him to a tree with heavy chains. He was then forced to watch as the vampire brutalized his wife, the unspeakable attacks too horrific for even the imagination to comprehend. After the vampire had his fill, he left the Alpha chained to the tree, facing the mess that was once his wife. Hours passed before they were found. The thick scent of blood was enough to guide the other pack members to the scene. His mother’s remains were burned where they rested.
     That night saw the death of an alpha, and the beginning stages of the pack’s eventual death. All because of one bored vampire. But on this night, Nicholas wanted this chapter of his life to find its own death. He was no longer afraid of his father’s wrath; in a way, he wished for it.
     Nicholas stood before the thick, steel door and wrapped his hand around the cool handle. He pushed it down and found it locked. Placing all of his strength and weight behind him, he pushed down again, breaking the lock within. The door swung open on silent hinges, revealing the dungeon sealed off from the world above. The stale scent of blood bombarded his nose. He followed the strong scent into one of the rooms off from the hallway. The sight shocked the numbness from his body. A male vampire hung on the wall, his hands shackled above his head, with his bowels spilling free from his abdomen like a knotted mess of fleshy rope. Nicholas wanted to released all of his father’s prisoners, but this one, he believed, was beyond saving.
     Finding a long knife on a table of filled with other instruments, Nicholas went to work, removing the vampire’s head and ending its misery. He dropped the knife and severed head to the floor, then continued into the next room. The numbness returned to his body as he discovered another vampire, this one chained up, as well, but with missing flesh, the pieces sliced from the body with the aid of scalpel. The surrounding skin was in the early stages of healing, but its progress was hampered by the lack of fresh blood.
     Nicholas grabbed the chains and ripped them from the wall. The vampire’s sluggish body tried to remain standing on its own as the young werewolf moved into the next room. One by one, Nicholas freed his father’s prisoners. The final room he entered shown the great care his father took to keep this one weakened. While the others were easily silenced by the lack of blood, this one has a metal stake protruding from his chest. Stakes, once thought as a way to kill a vampire, only paralyzed them. Even in folklore, some myths mentioned ways to stop a vampire. A stake was used to pin the supposed vampire to the ground, preventing it from rising at night. Though the myths were sprinkled with plenty of false information, some of it was based in fact.
     The vampire before Nicholas looked like his father’s prized catch among his twisted collection. He lifted the vampire’s head to gain a better look at him through his long, disheveled hair. His eyes then dropped down to the vampire’s chest and saw a tattoo, badly damaged by the previous injuries to his skin. The tattoo looked like Asian in design, more Indian than Chinese. But the vampire, himself, looked European.
     Nicholas’ hand went to the stake and pulled. The impalement left the heart as the vampire’s body remained lifeless. He then yanked the chains from the wall, snapping the links that secured them within the concrete. He guided the vampire to the floor. Unlike the others who were conscious, yet weak, this vampire shown no signs of life.
     Feeling his anger for his father resurface, Nicholas decided his own fate. He would freely forfeit his life in order to punish his father even further. Biting into his wrist, he held it over the vampire’s mouth. He dug his thumb into the wound to keep it from healing.
     The warmth of his blood gradually stirred the vampire awake. His hands, still cuffed in the heavy shackles, grabbed onto Nicholas’ wrist. The blood moved from the werewolf’s body and into the vampire, but the amount wasn’t as much as his body needed. Sitting up, the vampire pulled Nicholas closer, his mouth leaving the wrist and going for the neck.
     The quickness in the vampire’s actions sent panic throughout Nicholas. He wanted to fight off the vampire, but peace of his final act gave him comfort. Even if he wanted to break free, the vampire kept him in place with his strong hands. Nicholas’ weakening body was no match against the vampire.
     Darkness crept around the edges of Nicholas’ vision, pressing inward as his mind grew quiet. He felt the vampire release him and his body falling to the cold floor. Everything stopped.

“What have you done?”
     Nicholas heard his father’s voice fading in and out. His eyes opened as he saw the blurred image of Richard standing over him, body ridged and fists clenched. It was an attempt to keep himself from attacking his own son. A deep growl left him as he spoke.
     “Get up!”
     Nicholas’ eyes focused on his father. The fear he once had for his wrath was absent. He was actually happy to see any emotion from him at this point.
     With Richard’s rage and full attention aimed at his son, he failed to notice lone prisoner who chose to stay behind. Nicholas saw a pair of hands wrap around his father’s throat and pulling him back, throwing him off balance. Before the werewolf had a chance to react, the vampire went for his neck. Richard tried to call on his own primal strength, but his weakening body refused to answer his plea. The vampire let go as the werewolf’s body collapsed to the floor, landing beside his son. The vampire’s eyes moved to Nicholas. “What is your wish?” he asked.
     Nicholas turned his head and looked at his father who lay gasping for air and the life that was leaving him. Letting him live would bring about more pain within his life and others. There was only one cure to this disease. As his eyes remained on the pathetic man beside him, he gave his answer. “Goodbye, father.”
     Hearing the words, Richard used the last of his strength to pull himself onto his hands and knees. His body felt as though it weighed a ton as he tried to crawled away. The vampire grabbed Richard’s ankle and drug him back to his son’s side, then flipped him over. He covered the werewolf’s body with his and returned to the bite on his neck.
     Nicholas watched he father struggle underneath the vampire, his hands pushing against anything. His movements softened, and finally, his arms fell limp. The vampire stayed on him, still feeding after the heart stopped moving. Nicholas waited for his turn, his moment to feel the vampire at his own neck, once more.
     Releasing his hold on Richard, the vampire’s eyes returned to the younger werewolf. He then crawled over to him and lifted his own wrist, biting deep. He placed the open flesh to the werewolf’s mouth. The blood passed through his parted lips.
     Nicholas began to drink. Blood—the sight of it or taste—never repulsed him. He was a creature born with a his own bloodlust. His body could read the strength within the vampire’s blood. It was a sacred gift he was freely giving to him. He could drink it all if he could. The amount of blood the vampire gave him was enough to turn a human. But werewolves were different. Where a human’s body could be converted, a werewolf’s only gain came from the borrowed strength. The act could also be seen as a blood bond, a misunderstood trait that was rooted within a vampire’s blood.
     The vampire on this night, however, saw no need for such a bond, yet. He yanked his wrist away from the young werewolf and stood. “What is your name?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
     The werewolf rolled onto his side, taking in the blood that remained in his mouth and on his lips. His own teeth lengthened as his body wanted more, begging him to attack the vampire. He finally answered, “Nicholas.”
     The vampire looked him over, then left the room.
     Nicholas pulled himself to stand, trying hard to keep his eyes from his father’s body. He followed the vampire upstairs and found the mess left behind by the other vampires. It appeared to have been struck by a tornado. Nothing was untouched.
     The vampire stepped onto the front porch and stopped at the top of the steps. Nicholas looked around him to see the other vampires he had released. Some of them wore clothing they found inside. One of them stepped forward and addressed the vampire on the porch.
     “Give us the werewolf,” he demanded.
     “He’s dead.”
     “Then give us the boy!”
     “He belongs to me, and I will not allow your fangs to touch him.”
     The vampire fumed at the statement. “You don’t care what he and his daddy have done to us?”
     Nicholas was amazed at how calm the vampire before him remained. “He released us. Your time here is over. Now leave.”
     “We want justice!”
     The vampires began to advance.
     The vampire on the porch rushed for the ringleader and grabbed him by the throat, lifting him into the air. From the small crowd, one of the other vampires saw the marred tattoo on the old vampire’s chest.
     “A Guardian of Nauvia,” he gasped.
     The others heard the title and backed away.
     “We’re sorry,” he said. “We’ll leave.”
     Ignoring them, the old vampire lowered the one in his grip and pulled him close, his teeth tearing into his neck and mouth eagerly removing the small amount of blood left within his body.
     The other vampires, frightened that they would be next, began to disperse. The old vampire finally let go, tossing the unconscious vampire to the feet of another.
     “Now you can leave,” he said.
     The shocked vampire took the other one by the wrist and drug him away. The scene fell quiet as the vampires disappeared into the surrounding woods.
     Nicholas forced himself to breathe. The movements and actions of this one vampire was beyond anything he was capable of, but why did he choose to defend him? Was he planning to kill him himself? Or deliver the same punishments his father had?
     Turning around, the vampire’s eyes rested on Nicholas. Nothing could be read or glimpsed within him. He was an unpredictable creature, one his father took great care in keeping restrained. Nicholas could see it now. How could he let such a monster loose upon the world?
     The vampire climbed up the steps and stopped before Nicholas. He gave a respectful bow, keeping his head low as he spoke. “My name is Arden. I am yours to command.”