Authors note: Hello there, it's been awhile. This will try to be a little bit of an epic. And I truly hope you enjoy the road we're about to take. As said in the summary, this story will have multiple Jasper pairings, but obviously not all at once. I will be posting a new chapter every week to two weeks depending. If you love murder, romance, and down right mystery- you're in for a treat.

Prologue

The young blonde awoke with a debilitating headache. Her eyelids were heavy and difficult to open, but when they parted she closed them immediately. She tried to lift her arm to block out the blinding light from above, but her arm was secured down.

"What?" The woman's eyes opened again, raising her head as much as she could. Her body was strapped onto a crude steel table. Resting her head back down, unstoppable tears started rolling. She couldn't remember how she had gotten here. Maybe a john had brought her? It wasn't too much of a stretch. She had heard the stories. She tilted her head to the right, anxious to see her surroundings, but she couldn't see past the tears that were blinding her. The woman blinked her eyes until everything came into focus. Hanging on the wall was a switchblade. Her switchblade.

"Oh god," she screamed, "Somebody please! Help me!" Her entire body was quaking with fear as she thought of al the fucked up shit that could happen to her. "Fuck!" The blade gave away the gravity of the situation. She tried to pull at her restraints but was only met with resistance.

"Help! I've been abduc-"The blond shut her mouth with the surprise of a man smiling over her. He was breathtakingly handsome. His shaggy blond hair swept over his high cheekbones, his mouth was full and reminded her of a plum, but his bright red leering eyes let her know this man was not here to save her.

"Hello." His tone was cheerful. He had waited until her fear was as palpable as her blood to introduce himself. It was more fun that way.

"Please don't do this, " she cried. Images of torture flashed through her mind.

"Now, sweetheart," he clucked, "You don't even know what I'm going to do yet." His smile continued to grow wider as he walked around the table to her feet, his face now out of view.

"What are you going to do to me?" She watched her captors fingertips brush against her toes slowly up towards her knees back and forth. His hands were freezing cold, like ice. Back and forth. Back and forth.

"Does it feel good, you know, selling your body? I imagine it could. Knowing that you have something men want so badly they'll pay you for it," he mused, watching his fingers move over her trembling figure. He felt her confusion and fear as if it were his own but he did not let that hurt him, it encouraged him. When she didn't respond, he stopped and walked back toward her face. Silent tears fell one by one down her cheeks, falling onto the table creating two tiny oceans on either side.

He sighed, exasperated by her theatrics. "Well? Does it? It wasn't a rhetorical question."

"Y-yes," she whispered.

"Ahh. But I bet some men weren't expecting to pay the ultimate price." He bent down to her ear and spoke softly, "Their life." His voice was smooth but his cadence did nothing to mask the malice. She knew why she was here and he could sense that too. She jerked her head away from his mouth but said nothing.

He stood back up and grabbed the switchblade she had used to kill countless of her clients off of the wall. He used it to slice her from dainty wrist to elbow. The girl whimpered out a, "Please," as protest.

"You know, Samantha, I'm surprised. Usually people in your predicament start to proclaim their innocence by now. Don't you want to tell me all of those johns hurt you? I actually thought that was the case at first. But, no. Five in one month, and that's only what I saw. All men of wealth."

"Those cheating, bigoted assholes deserved it," Samantha spit.

"I'm sure you think so, problem is, I don't. So, it won't be happening again." He bent down toward her bleeding arm and glided his tongue over her wound, teasing both himself and her about what was inevitable. The thought finally occurred to her that he wasn't human.

"Oh, my god!" She shrieked. "Shit, shit, shit. Oh no, no, no, no. Please."

"Now, now. Don't be so scared," he cooed.

"What are you?" She was panty after her display. He laughed and hovered his face above hers, looking into frightened green eyes. His wild and ecstatic eyes mirrored in her own. Oh, he was thrilled, and she was rightfully scared.

"What am I? I'm a demon in human's skin. A creature of the night...I'm a vampire." His smile opened revealing his white razors of teeth. "And you dear, sweet, murderess Samantha are my next prey." He skimmed his nose down her cheek to her throat and inhaled her fragrance. She smelled like chamomile. He might of moaned.

He felt no remorse as he sank his teeth into her flesh; he relished in the ecstacy of her blood pumping down his throat.

When there was nothing left of her to give he pulled away and stared down at her corpse. She looked innocent in death, but then, most of them do. He closed his eyes and rested his hands upon her shoulders and sighed. Memories of killing paining him fluttered through his mind, but now it was something he enjoyed. It more than fed his hunger, it relaxed him. He felt meaningful. He moved around to her side and gently released the restraints. They weren't necessary to withhold her but it helped with his game. He liked to talk to his prey and drag it out before he drank away their life. He wanted his victims to know that they weren't picked at random. That their death served a true purpose. It was easier if he didn't have to hold them down his self for that.

He easily contorted the bloodless hooker's body, snapping her this way and that to fit into his black leather suitcase. The switchblade was thrown in with her. He glanced around the abandoned room he had made into his own. There were no signs of blood in the room or on himself. He was a clean, efficient hunter. He smoothed away a wrinkle on his gray dress shirt, adjusted his black fitted jeans, and grabbed his suitcase with ease to walk out the door and into the night. Headed toward his car, he admired his surroundings. The street was alive with all walks of life beaming. Unknowing that a vampire was among them.

Most of them needn't worry. If anything, he was keeping them safe from humans like his dear friend Samantha Suitcase sitting passenger. He drove into the heat of Seattle, with nothing but the sweet music of Joy Division telling him to dance. And he did. He head swayed from left to right and his hands thumped rhythmically on the steering wheel. A small smile found it's way onto his face. He was content with himself. Proud even. His fate did not upset him like it did for many years.

He was a vampire. An immortal. He was- his phone rang, interrupting his thoughts. He sighed answering, "Whitlock Investigations. Jasper speaking."