Scent of Your Destiny: Blood Moon

Chapter I

My name is Andrew. I suppose the most unusual thing about me is the fact that I haven't ever had a suntan, and I'm now over two hundred years old. Did you catch the clue there? I'm not human; not pure human, anyway. I'm a dhampir; a vampire half-breed. My father was human, and he really loved my mother, even though he knew she might kill him at any moment. I never understood why she didn't, no matter how old I got.

Anyway, I'm a halfling. I have mostly vampire qualities thanks to mom. I can see perfectly I the dark, hear for a mile, track like a bloodhound, lift a hundred times my own weight, and jump like I'm in zero gravity. The only real drawbacks to being what I am are the facts that I burn like an albino in the sun (and too much exposure will actually kill me), I don't have a reflection in a mirror, I can't touch crosses or holy water, and I'm horribly allergic to garlic. Seriously, dad almost killed me by accident once when I was little when he fed me a piece of garlic toast. My throat swelled shut and mom had to cut herself to save me.

Blood. That's what you're all wondering about, isn't it? Do I drink blood like my mother? Well, the answer to that particular question is yes. I do drink blood, but I don't have to drink all the time, and I don't do it on a whim. That's the human in me. I only need to drink when I am injured or sick. Other than those times, the thirst is totally under my control.

After my father died (of old age, of all things), mother and I had a bit of a falling out and I left to make my own way in the world. At that point, the Americas were the "in" place to go; a newly independent nation, freedoms never before dreamt of. It all sounded deliciously appealing to me. So, I chartered a boat, packed my bags, and left my old country behind.

One and a half centuries passed. I moved around the country a lot. I could never stay in one town for more than about ten years. After that, people would begin to get suspicious about why my appearance wasn't changing. As a matter of fact, one of my favorite slip-ups was during my early years in America. I was living in Southern Louisiana towards the middle of the Nineteenth Century, and I had been living in one particular town for nearly twelve years. The neighbors, suspecting witchcraft or devil-worship, beat down my door, dragged me out into the street and lynched me. They eventually hung me from a tall oak tree. Now, given that I don't need to breathe, I had to restrain the urge to laugh. However, I put on a good show for their egos. I flopped and gasped like a fish out of water, and then I hung limply. Believing me dead, the crowd dispersed, except for one man. I waited until he turned his back. Then, I snapped the ropes on my hands and around my neck and dropped to the ground. The soft tissue of my throat was damaged in the hanging. I killed the man and drank him dry, using the power in his blood to heal my damaged body. I felt only slight remorse at his passing, as his death was necessary for me to continue existing. After that, though, I was more cautious about moving around regularly.

Now, it's the dawn of the 21st Century and I'm living in Los Angeles. I sensed something very strange upon entering the city limits. It felt like another strong vampire, but he or she was different, like me; perhaps not a dhampir, but different, nonetheless.

I first had to establish a lair for myself. I invested in a low-rent, rat-infested cellar of a tenement building. The landlord was a prick, and the only other tenant was a crack-head, but my room had a lock on the door, and no windows. It would suffice.

I struck out that night to sample the city after dark. I saw hookers on every street corner; some of them were even vampires, hoping to ensnare a fresh kill. I went to three different bars and clubs. I got tossed out of the first strip club I was at for grabbing one of the dancers' asses. At the second, some drunken asshole kept getting in my face and calling me a faggot. After an hour of this, no matter where in the bar I moved to avoid him, I had finally had enough. So, I decked the loudmouth. Given that I've got super strength, he crumpled like a house of cards. Well, all of his drunken buddies saw me take him down, and charged me en masse. A brawl ensued that would have made Custer's Last Stand look like a pillow fight. Well, needless to say, the bouncers "escorted" us out. Rather, I allowed them to throw me out.

The third place I ended up in was probably the last place in the city I should have ever gone. I ended up in a Blood Bank; a bar for vampires. At this place, if you order a Bloody Mary, then ask whether you want O-positive or O-negative. I call it the last place I should have ever gone because, whenever I end up around full vamps, trouble always seems to follow quickly. And, of course, this leads to a few fresh piles of dust on the ground. I often wonder why I hate vampires the way I do. Is it because of how much I dislike my mother? Is it because I'm only a halfling? Is it for some other, more obscure reason? I just couldn't say.

Meanwhile, there I was, surrounded by blood-suckers. Most of them ignored me, sipping on their glasses of blood. The ones that noticed me contented themselves, for the most part, to glare at me with venom in their eyes. None of them came near me, until one undead jackass broke the stalemate.

"Get that halfling scum out of here!" he shouted, pointing at me, "He's gonna give the place a bad name! He's no better than a human!"

I was silent. I merely stared calmly at him. This angered him further and he raised the level of his taunts and insults trying everything from insulting my human father to insulting my mother to get a rise out of me. Eventually his lack of success riled him to the point that he lunged across the room at me, spurring me to fight. I planted my foot against my assailant's chest and pushed off. He was sent backwards into a table while I was catapulted into the air. Laying back, I tucked into a flip and landed at the far end of the room. Being a vampire-friendly establishment, all of the furniture in the room was either metal or plastic. Fortunately, I always carry a sharpened, wooden stake in my coat pocket. I started carrying it after I had a bout of deep depression back in the early part of the 20th Century. I had considered dusting myself and ending my agony. So, I made the stake and actually had it ready in my hand when, all of a sudden, the dark cloud over my head lifted and I felt content with my immortal life again. Since then, I've carried the stake as a reminder of how easy it might be for me to end my own life.

Now, however, I produced the stake in defense of my life. Snarling hideously, the vampire hurled himself at me, sending us both through one of the blacked-out windows. We fought, even though I knew he had no chance of beating me. Eventually my stake pierced his heart and, with a scream, he crumbled to dust.

I didn't stick around long enough for any other blood-suckers to get brave enough to give me problems. I ducked out of the alley and into the brightening streets. I figured I had less than thirty minutes until sunrise, and I also knew that the doorway of my apartment building faced west and that there was a man-hole access within five yards of that door. I ducked down through a storm drain and into the sewers.

My sensitive nose was instantly assaulted by a rank combination of stenches ranging from anything like rotten garbage to dead animals and raw sewage. Slime and mold coated every solid surface down there. My supernaturally sharp ears detected the scurrying of thousands of vermin.

I had known the smell of blood for my whole life. I had drunk gallons of it. But now, my nose detected something unfamiliar. Forgetting about returning to my apartment, I followed my nose down into the deeper tunnels.

Long minutes later, I came to a large antechamber. It looked almost like an old fallout shelter from them Cold War era. There were several large, wooden crates. Some of them had been smashed, as though in a fight of some kind. And then, I saw the bodies.

They weren't human; not by a long shot. They looked rather like overgrown lizards. They had thick, scaly skin, long, sharp claws, and fang-like daggers for teeth. However, I noted that these…things…had been completely torn to pieces by something. Whatever that "something" had been was surely of equal or larger stature to these giant reptiles, had similar armaments, and a fantastic amount of brutality and bloodthirstiness.

Examining one of the mutilated corpses more closely, I discovered several tufts of hair trapped in its teeth. Obviously, it had bitten whatever had killed it. Gingerly, I plucked one of these tufts out of its teeth and looked at it closely.

The hair was of a dark brown coloration. Its texture was very heavy and coarse; not so much as a bear, but more like a large dog. I held the hairs up to my nose and sniffed deeply. The scent on them was old; possibly as much as six months or more. It was also thickly covered by the stench of decay. However, the scent was still there:

"Werewolf…" I growled aloud.

Mother had told me all about werewolves when I was young. They were brutes; unrefined, uncivilized, barbaric creatures that I was encouraged to kill wherever found. However, I also had to beware of them. If a werewolf bit me, its venom would turn my body to dust. We were immortal enemies, our two races, and yet we also shared a common enemy: humans. They hunted us both equally.

If there was a werewolf in this city, there was a strong possibility that there could be more than one. Hell, there could be a whole, damned colony of those overgrown hairballs in the city. I needed to get my hands on a gun and some silver ammunition as soon as possible. After that…it would be open season.

I took the rest of the day to scour the tunnels, looking for signs of werewolf activity. I noticed, as I followed the tunnels out of the city limits, the scent of werewolf drifting down through the drains and grates was getting stronger. From the sounds coming down from overhead, I guessed that I was now somewhere in the suburbs.

I looked at my watch; five minutes to sundown. I checked my coat for available weapons. I had only my stake and a butterfly knife; effective against humans and vampires, but not very much help against a half-ton behemoth. This outing would have to be kept strictly reconnaissance.

Five minutes later, I cautiously emerged from the sewer tunnels. I was in a small, cul-de-sac neighborhood of about ten houses. My nose pointed me in the direction of a large, white, two-story house with decorative shutters and door framing. If I ended up having to, I could break into the house and investigate more closely what was inside. That was one of my other favorite things about being a halfling: I could enter dwellings without having to be invited. Whenever mother and I used to go visit humans, when we first arrived, I was to go in first and invite her to follow me. We called it "protocol", but really all it did was provide a way for mother to disguise the fact that she was a vampire.

Carefully, I crept around the house and scoped out the adjoining grounds. The backyard was large, with an enormous in-ground swimming pool and hot-tub house. I noticed a balcony. That seemed like the most logical place for me to enter unnoticed. It looked like it was about 40 feet straight up to the railing; an easy jump. I squatted and sprang. Catching the stone railing, I hurdled it and landed silently on the balcony. That was another perk of my vampire lineage: I can be absolutely silent when I choose to be. I have no natural heartbeat, and I don't need to breathe. As a halfling, I can simulate a pulse with the proper amount of concentration. Pure vampires cannot do this.

I peered through the glass balcony door and observed the bedroom within. There was obviously a young man who lived here, judging by the masculine decorum. In the middle of the room, there was a massive, four-poster, California King-size bed. I found the door unlocked, but, upon closer inspection, I noticed that the door was wired. Whoever owned this house had the sense to install a home security system. Unfortunately for them, I knew how to circumvent all but the most cutting-edge systems.

However, I chose to ignore that and continue an observation from my vantage point. That is, until I heard something very interesting. Quickly and quietly circumventing the security circuits, I snuck into the room. The interesting sounds appeared to be coming from a couple of rooms down the hall. I ducked out into the plush hallway and crept closer. As I neared a door, I smelled five or six men. From the amount of gun oil I smelled on them, they were all fairly heavily armed. And then, I smelled the plastic explosive. Whoever these guys were, they weren't fooling around. I heard them talking.

"So…why are the Council letting the woman live? I mean, what was the point to kidnapping her if they were just going to put her right back a few hours later?"

"I hear you, buddy," another replied, "It seems like an awful waste of time and effort just to trap one, stinkin' werewolf."

So, I thought, These fools either fancy themselves hunters, or they work for hunters. How interesting…

"Hey guys," said a third man, "Since she's still knocked out from the tranq we shot her with, who's up for some free pussy?"

"Dude, you're sick!" laughed a fourth, "Fucking an unconscious chick? That's just…"

"Hey, at least she won't struggle," said the one who presented the idea. I heard a rattling sound; presumably he was loosening his clothes.

I had heard enough. I didn't know this woman, and I didn't care to know her, but I wasn't going to stand by and let them rape her while she wasn't even awake to try and defend herself. I burst into the room, growling and hissing for dramatic effect. My fangs, normally the length of average human canines, had lengthened by about an inch and were now quite pronounced.

At my intrusion, the six troops looked up. Four of them, including the would-be rapist, blanched with shock and terror at my appearance. One of them, finding his spine, pulled a pistol from his belt holster and emptied the clip into me. The shots hurt; a lot. However, all that pain really did was make me angry. I leapt on the gunner and snapped his neck. The snapping sound jolted his comrades out of their trances, and the room became chaos. I had to be careful and quick. There could be no traces of my presence in this place.

Despite how much it hurt, I caught all shots fired in my body. I didn't dare allow bullet holes to appear in the walls. I bludgeoned each of the troops to death; all except one. That one, I merely knocked unconscious. I needed blood, and he would provide plenty of it for me. Once I had neutralized all of the troops, I picked up all of the spent shells and pocketed them. Next, I slung two of the dead troops over my shoulders and carried them out of the house and down into the sewers. Two trips later, I dumped all five dead bodies in a large drain and carried my dinner back to the city.

He screamed. Like a little girl, he screamed. He begged for mercy, too. It was actually kind of pathetic. This man, once a cocky, would-be rapist, was now a sniveling, pitiful worm. Out of sadistic pleasure, I toyed with him for nearly an hour. However, the thirst clawed at my throat, demanding satiation. Seizing my victim, I sank my fangs into his neck.

I actually groaned with pleasure and relief as I felt the sweet, warm, salty liquid caress my tongue and throat. My pulse began to pound of its own volition as the fresh blood filled my belly. An anti-coagulant in my saliva kept the blood flowing as I drank.

My victim struggled at first. But my fangs had pierced his jugular vein. He stopped struggling and passed out after a minute or so. Another minute later, and I had drunk him dry. I threw back my head and cried out with ecstatic relief.

Almost immediately, I felt my body beginning to mend. The bullets all ejected themselves back out of their entry wounds. After the last scrap of metal had been ejected, the wounds closed and disappeared. I stretched, yawned, and looked at my clock's cracked face. It was only just past midnight.

"Well," I remarked conversationally, looking at the corpse of my victim, "the night is still young. Perhaps I will take your pistol and get some silver bullets made. What do you think?"

Of course, I received no reply. He was dead and I hadn't sired him as a new vampire. He would not rise again. I pulled off his gun belt and clip holster and examined my find. I was impressed. This guy was packing a desert eagle and six high-capacity magazines. The first three clips, including the one in the gun, all sported standard hollow-point rounds. The final three clips threw me for a bit of a loop. This guy was actually packing silver ammunition. He really didwork for werewolf hunters!

How lucky, I thought, I don't have to waste the time and expense of getting any ammunition made. Hmm…I wonder…

Picking up the soldier's dead body, I snuck back out of the building and down to the sewer tunnels. I found my way back to the drain where I had dumped the other bodies. Since the drain systems had not yet been flushed, they were right where I left them. I picked my way through all of their clothes, weapons and equipment. Each of them had a desert eagle for a sidearm, and ALL of them had several clips of silver rounds for their pistols. I took a second pistol, and another holster. These, I strapped on under my trench coat. All of the clips that wouldn't fit in carrying sleeves in the holsters, I pocketed.

"Now I'm ready…" I muttered.

A.N.: Merry Christmas, readers! Guess who's back in action! I've finally got a workable plot for not just a sequel to my wildly successful "Scent of Your Destiny", I've also got what I think is a workable plot for a story featuring a vampire main character! I'm excited about this. Really. I am. It's good to be back, and I hope you'll be patient with me as I write this stuff out. The first chapters are usually kind of boring, right?