Thread:Rocketlauncher22/@comment-29711200-20160922031821/@comment-30105631-20170109020447

"This was my grandfather." The investigator points at an oil painting of a man with dark hair and blue eyes. Young. "He was murdered right before he turned forty. Sleeping in his bedroom, and the next day they found him with his throat torn out. He'd drowned in his own blood. The day after that, some sick bastard had taken the body from the morgue."

The escort's eyes gaze over the picture. Normally when a man pays for her services he wants sex or company, or something else. The investigator needed a townie on his side, so he paid for her to come to him. This way, he could explain his intentions, and what he had found. He had no interest in sex. So long as the escort got paid, she didn't care what he wanted. But she listened because it was her job.

"So you want revenge." She said. "And you want me to help you?"

The investigator's eyes glimmered. "I need someone who can vouch for me as a member of the town when I go public. There have been too many killings like my grandfather's, and although the original killer is probably dead, there is definitely a copycat. Tomorrow night, bring someone you trust absolutely. That way I can continue spreading the word."

The escort nodded. "And have you found anything yet?"

The investigator shook his head. "I'm following up a lead, but so far I haven't found out who the killer is."

The escort turned and began to leave the building. Just before she was out the door, she said; "I'll send someone I trust tomorrow."

"How much do you trust them?" The investigator asked.

The escort smiled knowingly. "A lot."

The next night, the investigator waited at his home. There was a knock on the door, and so he went to open it. A man stood outside, wearing a wide-brimmed hat that hung low. The investigator couldn't see his face, but he noticed the odd way he was standing, like he was leaning away from the house. His hand moved to adjust his hat, and at no point did it cross in between the sides of the door frame. It was like he was unable to enter.

"Are you the escort's contact?" The investigator asked.

The man shook his head. "I'm a sheriff, and I'm here to take a look around."

The investigator frowned. "Ok."

The man nodded. "May I come in?"

"Yes."

In an instant, the man was on the investigator, and with hands like claws he grabbed his neck and ripped it out.

The investigator cried out as the man put his face in the blood, drinking it and slurping it down like an animal. He laughed as he drank, and when he was finished he stood up.

"You aren't going to die, but you'll feel dead. In two days we'll collect your body and complete the ritual."

The investigator's eyes would've widened, but he couldn't control them. He tried to choke in a breath, but there was no blood in his body, and so his normal functions wouldn't work.

The next day, they said he was dead. He tried to tell them no, but he couldn't.

The day after that, he was put in a morgue. And just like the man had said, a few people came and stole his body. They brought it out into the woods, and laid him on a wooden slab. Words that the investigator couldn't understand were exchanged, and then he was gasping for breath and sitting up. And above all, he had a desire for blood.

"I'm a... a vampire..." He managed, and the men around him laughed.

"A newly born one too. It doesn't take long to get used to the hunger, trust me." One of them said.

"Bring him to the leader!" Said another. They grabbed him and forced him over to a throne of wood, where a man languished with a knowing smile. The investigator saw him and gasped.

"Hello, grandson." Said his grandfather, looking just the age he had in the painting, even though dozens of years must've passed since it was made. "Welcome to the coven."

End of Vampire Story