Prologue…

An old woman with flowing white hair pulled back into a messy braid whose brittle hands held a steaming cup of black coffee sat in a dimly illuminated living room on a rather old couch stained with peculiar black ink that blotted on the deep red upholstery every now and then like tears.

Her beautiful grandchildren-the first eight, the other two years of age-where around her. The smallest one, Annabelle, was sleeping in a play pin to the left, and to the right, a handsome young boy named Andrew saw reading a story in a small bookshelf crevasse by the heavily curtained window, humming very quietly to himself.

The woman cleared her throat, coughed once, and then said softly, "Andrew?"

She waited for the boy who contended to blatantly ignore her coo like he didn't even hear her in the first place. She sighed, "Andy?" she tried again. This time, the youth smiled and rose to his feet in quick response to his nickname.

"Yeah?" he asked in a sweet voice as he stood above her.

She chuckled, "So tall. Just like your grandfather."

The young boy raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips, "it that good?" he asked.

The woman smiled thinly, and nodded at him slowly, "of course it is."

She stood silent for a moment while Andrew waited for her to speak again. She would let him wait. Waiting was a good skill to have. She took a very slow drink of her coffee and let the bitter liquid wallow around her mouth for a while before she swallowed, coughed once more, and asked, "Do you want to hear a story?"

Andrew, knowing the basic dark principles of his grandmother's fairy tales, had to take a short time to think of whether or not he wanted to hear about Clifford the slithering black demon or Morikis the metal monster. He had found her stories very intriguing from a young age, but sometimes found it rather difficult to stomach the vast spectrum of description she used in the house with no lights ever turned on-he wasn't even sure if the outlets on the cool walls worked.

Finally he made the decision, "Yes, I would like to hear a story grandma."

He plopped down at her feet and she grinned, "Good."

"Which one is it this time? Can you tell me about Billy the Grave Keeper again?" he suggested.

She shook her head, which surprised the boy. She usually adhered to any particular story he wished to be told, but she now had a stern look on her face that told him not to beg.

"No. Tonight, I am going to tell you a new story about a…a man." She said, stuttering at the last part as if the simple term of "man" was too dismal for the protagonist of the story.

"A man? Just a man?" Andrew asked in shock.

"No Andy, not just a man. I'm talking about the specific gender of this person. He was biologically a man." She clarified, "But he was…he is…extraordinary and wild. And…deadly." She laughed to herself like remembering the punchline to an old joke, and a lower, more sinister undertone laughed along with her. Andrew scanned the dark room. He couldn't see anyone there. Then again…he really couldn't see.

He looked back at his grandmother, "Are you crazy grandma?" he asked suddenly.

She raised one gray eyebrow and looked at him with a sly smile, "Of course I am. But that's the only way he'd keep coming around. If I went sane, he'd leave."

"Who'd leave grandma?" he asked nervously. This moment was the ultimate reason he didn't like grandma's stories. Weird things always seemed to happen when she told them, like they bordered on some truth he wasn't supposed to hear. It made him scared of things like fireplaces and cemeteries that no normal boy his age was afraid of. And if the man he was learning about was, indeed, deadly…then what would he find himself fearing next?

As if in response to his thoughts, a fluttering sound, heavy and strong disrupted the still. He looked around once more, and felt something tug at his heart, "How does your story start?" he asked quickly.

Eighty six year old Juliet Biersack grinned and leaned in close to her grandson's face, "it begins with the end." She whispered.

Chapter One…

Follow me.

Sunlight rose my tired bones like…I don't know. Something inspiring that I'd usually come up with if it wasn't 6:00 a.m... My sheets are so soft and the little bubble of blankets I lay in is so freaking warm. The idea of getting up and doing stuff seems like hell.

"Andy?" I hear. Just ignore it. You're still asleep. I say to myself.

"Andy! Get up." I recognize my girlfriend, Juliet, and her voice ordering me to stop being lazy.

I sigh in protest, and she leaves. SCORE! I think. Ha, ha, right, like I'm getting left alone. My blanket suddenly gets ripped away and in the same moment, something freezing and slippery is placed on the small of my bare back.

I naturally go flying off the bed like some deranged bird and end up on the ground with my laughing girlfriend standing triumphantly above me. "Okay, okay. You win." I groan, pulling myself to my feet by grabbing her and using her as a ladder, wiping the icy water from my back in her hair.

She handed me coffee and shook the rumples I caused out of her sleek collection of long brown locks. "Thanks." I sigh, looking to the carpet and seeing the little bastard that had woken me.

"Ice cube? Really?" I asked, sipping the drink.

She shrugged, "Jake just called, you where late and not moving so…ice cube." she agreed.

"Late?" I ask to no one in particular and glance at my alarm clock. It wasn't six anymore. It was 6:55.

"How…how do I manage to lose an hour just trying to sleep?" she shrugged and stretched to her tippy toes to kiss me on the cheek. "Get dressed."

I go ahead and sigh one more time, just for shits and giggles, "Okay mom."

She glanced back at me with furrowed brows, "gross."

I proceed to shower, dress, eat, brush, comb and go within twenty minutes and not a minute later. Maybe. My car is beautiful as usual, all sleek and black and shiny. It runs like a dream too, going easily from zero to sixty in a matter of seconds.

I start the engine and it purrs at me like usual. I pull out of the driveway of my house and start to drive down the street. About halfway down to the turn, I realize there is a really creepy ass semi-truck looming with its Brights on in the middle of the day only a few house's away from mine.

"That's….creepy." I mutter as I near the stop sign. I decide to ignore it. It's not causing me any harm, and it's probably just a neighbor's brother or something.

I turn on some of the raw tracks of our new album and go over some ruff spot me and the guys didn't get to fix a few days ago.

Could probably use a shorter word there….ooh that was not a good cord. CC's just a little too loud, you can't hear Jake, maybe-," my thoughts get brutally interrupted but a harsh screech of an industrial sized bull-horn.

I glance in the rear view to catch eyes with this really old trucker driving the same semi I saw in front of the curb by my house. Then he turned, and just like the he was gone. I gulp. There wasn't even a street where he'd veered off.

I pull onto the highway with the ghost-truck still fresh on my brain and once again feel uneasy. There were no cars. A highway, in the middle of L.A. No cars.

"What the fuck?" I ask myself as I drive freely in the middle of a two way street. No cops, no cars, not even people. Confusing as the day started, I really don't know what's going on here.

Jumping to conclusions wasn't the way to go though. Just ignore it…get back in your fucking lane. I tell myself. The wheels turn and I mindlessly pull back into the correct lane, driving half-awake.

Then out of nowhere, the truck was behind me again, frighteningly close and still pulling closer. Jesus. Who was this guy? I'd only saw him once, and it was from a distance, but I felt like I'd done something like this before for a couple moments as I sped mercifully to stay ahead of the truck until I saw the pull off for the studio.

Then I suddenly turn like a jack ass and end up stealing in the parking lot of the recording studio panting like an idiot and watching for the truck to either follow or go past. It did nether. It was gone, again.