Flash of silver.
Splash of red.
He was turned about twenty-five years after Shakespeare breathed his last. It happened in a filthy alley. By accident.
When the whore he followed into the alley threw him into a wall he slid like a rag doll to the ground. He stared in horror as a second mouthful of VERY sharp teeth descended and she stalked over to his fallen form. Hissing she jerked him up against the wall she sank those fangs into his throat.
He screamed and screamed, sure he was about to die.
Abruptly she released him and they both sank to the ground. On her knees the vampire scrabbled at a knife protruding from her back. Towering over them was a wild looking man, a broadsword whistled through the air, severing the writhing vampire's neck. Her blood sprayed over her victim's outstretched hands.
"You! Did she feed you her blood?" His savior barked at him.
"What? Feed me blood? What? No, no." He gasps, pressing one hand to his bleeding neck. "Am I going to die?"
"Let me see your neck." The man roughly examined the wound. "No, you'll live. Come with me and I'll patch you up."
Strong hands supported him as he shakily got to his feet. "What just happened? What was that?"
"Escaped mental patient."
"No she wasn't. Mental patients don't have an extra set of teeth spring into their mouths. Why don't you try again?"
"Damn, I'd hoped you hadn't seen that. Are you sure you really want to know?" The stranger glared sharply at the man he rescued. "It would be simpler if you just accepted the mental patient lie."
"I don't want simple, I want the truth."
"Alright, but not here. Just come with me and I'll explain while I patch your wound."
"Not that I'm not grateful, but who are you?"
"James Cotton."
"I'm Colin Murphy, thank you for my life."
"It's what I do, come on."
Quickly the two men made their way to a shabby house that leaned precariously against the pub next door. After locking the doors and relaying lines of salt the hunter thoroughly cleaned Colin's wound while explaining the truth about vampires.
"How do you know all these things?"
"My father taught me. His baby brother was killed by a Rawhead and he set out to try to keep such things from happening to others."
"You mean Rawhead Bloody Bones are real? What else is real?" Colin gasps in awe.
"Vampires, rawheads, werewolves, demons, wraths, ghosts, and anything else you believed in as a child and told yourself couldn't be real as an adult."
"So this is what you do? You travel around and stop evil things?" He shakes his head as he asks, "What do you do for money?"
"Let's just say I leave before my bill is due." James admitted with a wry chuckle. "Hmm, it's almost dawn. Come let's sleep, it's been a long night, we can talk more when we wake." With that they turned in for the night. Morning never came for James.
Colin woke before the sun was fully above the horizon, thirsty. He shot out of bed the sun hurting his skin and he knew. He knew James wouldn't let him live.
"What are you doing?"
"Just closing the window, the sun was in my eyes." He forced his teeth back before he answered, wouldn't do to hiss and give it away. He lay back on his bed and pretended to fall asleep. When he was sure James was asleep again Colin crept over and quickly tackled him, pinning the hunter to the bed and buried his fangs in the other mans throat. Colin felt James's struggles grow weaker and weaker as he was drained of blood, when they ceased altogether he drew back and stared into the dead eyes of the man who had saved him only the night before. "I'm sorry, James. I-I just didn't want to die." Forcing guilt aside he rummaged through the hunters bags until he found cloths he thought would fit and changed out of his bloody attire. Not wanting to sleep in the same room as the corpse he went to the family room and made a bed on the sofa. Now dressed in clean cloths he felt ready to sleep the day away.
