D1isclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter either. It belongs to its creator J.K. Rowling and probably Warner Bros. too. I'm not too sure about that. This piece of literature is simply the work of a humble fan. I also credit Laurell K. Hamilton for various themes, subjects, or references that I may use. It won't be a crossover but certain elements from the series will be used.

:Author Notes:

This will be leaning more toward alternate reality. It will have the same characters just a different spin on things. If you're not a fan or strong cursing or maybe even violence and bloodshed then there is a good chance that this story isn't for you.

"We twist and turn where angels burn. Like fallen soldiers, we will learn, that once forgotten, twice removed, love will be the death of you." Savage Garden, Some song I don't know

Potter

Chapter Thirteen: Requiem for a Fallen Raven

By: Water Mage

Harry closed the book in front of him. He coughed a little at the dust that shot up from the crinkled, yellowing pages. He sat in the library of Hogwarts, books spread all over the table he occupied. Hogwarts had entered into its second term with a startling quickness. It was now the end of February, close to two months since Christmas and the mysterious packages. His father had found out who R.L. was, from various agents he had within Interpol, the International Crime Police Organization. Interpol was startling good at tracking people with little information, like initials and an estimated age. The person in question happened to be one Remus Lupin. That was it. There was no other information besides the usual. Like age and birth records. There was no home address, parking tickets, dental records, nothing that would necessary in tracking him down for further questioning.

Harry touched a hand to the cross dangling down from the chain around his neck. Whoever, Remus Lupin was, besides a friend of his mother's, Harry wanted to thank him. The gift had become his most valuable belonging. He never took it off, never. It was the only link he had to his mother. He had his father's cloak, too, but he wasn't going to wear that flashy thing. Who in their right mind would? In his opinion it was absolutely horrid, like some bad Halloween costume.

With the Celtic cross came something else. A new obsession. Ever since learning of Lily Potter's passion for the old gods of Ireland, Harry had taken to learning all he could about them. The Tuatha Dé Danann were among of the most important of the gods. There were many of them, some being, Dagda, Brigid, Nuada, Lugh, Dian Cecht, Ogma, and Lir. Dagda was the most important. Harry looked at all the books around him. They were all on lore and mythology of Ireland. Picking one at random, he opened it, flipping by chance to a brief section on Dagda.

DAGDA

by: Micha F. Lindemans

The Irish-Celtic god of the earth and treaties, and ruler over life and death.
Dagda, or The Dagda, ("the good god") is one of the most prominent gods
and the leader of the Tuatha Dé Danann, "Children of the Goddess Danu"
He is a master of magic, a fearsome warrior, a master of knowledge, and a
skilled artisan. Dagda is a son of the goddess Danu, the High Goddess of the
Earth, and father of the goddess Brigid and the god Aengus mac Oc. The
Morrigan is his wife, and his eternal enemy is the Lone Power, Rhita Gawr
Dagda is portrayed as possessing both super—human strength and appetite.
He is prone to changing forms, and his most recognizable one is the form of
a white stag. His attributes are a cauldron with an inexhaustible supply of
food, a magical harp with which he summons the seasons, and an enormous
club, with one end of which he could kill nine men, but with the other
restore them to life. The Lia Fial, the stone that sees destinies, belongs to
him, too. He also possessed two marvelous swine--one always roasting,
the other always growing--and ever-laden fruit trees.

It is said that when Rhita Gawr tries again to take the realm of Avalon, the
Chosen will stand up to him. The Chosen are the champions of Dagda, his
Generals and Lieutenants. They will lead the army of the Faerie against the
demon army of Rhita Gawr, for the right to claim the gate between Heaven
and Earth.

Dagda had many names in many different tongues. One of his epithets is
Ollathir, which means "All-father". He is identified with the Welsh Gwydion
and the Gallic Sucellos.

"That's interesting," Harry muttered, "I've never heard of the Chosen or anything about leading a Faerie army."

Harry, of course, knew who the Faerie are. He had come across them many times in his study, since they were in a way connected to the Irish gods and Ireland itself. Also, Dumbledore had told him that he was the grandson of a Faerie creature, when Harry had seen through his glamour, many months ago.

The fey were mysterious creatures. They lived in another realm parallel to their own, often called Fairyland. They were ruled by two courts known as the Seelie and the Unseelie court, one of light and the other of evil. These beings, the Fey, once populated old Ireland and were of the same stature but of way lower power than the Tuatha Dé Danann. Harry thumped his finger against the table, thinking. The Chosen didn't sound the least bit familiar, in fact he had only came across it in this one text, but… He had a feeling that it was important. A tingling feeling at the pit of his stomach was more like it.

"Harry!"

Harry spun around in his chair. With quick reflexes, he slipped his knives from their sheaths under his sleeves, and held them at ready, posture tense and on high alert. Kevin and Terry halted in their footsteps. Terry's eyes widened and he looked partially horrified and just plain scared straight. Kevin on the other hand, looked at the knives calmly, merely raising an eyebrow at Harry.

"Put the knives away, Harry. No one is going to hurt you," said Kevin, calmly. "You are in the library."

Terry just looked at Kevin, shaking his head, and said, "Since when are you calm when someone pulls a knife on you."

Kevin shrugged. "I'm a Daywalker. We don't fear mortal weapons."

"You're cocky," replied Harry, slipping his knives back in their sheaths. "But in other news… what the hell are you two doing sneaking up on me like that. I almost had a fucking heart attack."

Terry walked forward to the table, and then grabbed one of the lighter books from the tallest stack. Frowning, he read the cover, and then turning to Harry, he raised his eyebrow. "What is with your sudden interest in Ireland anyway?" asked Terry. "Wait, don't say anything. You already told us before."

"Again and again," replied Harry, grinning. "I told you that I want to find out why my mother believed in this so much. There has to be an honest reason as to why. These have to be more than stories since an educated woman believed in them."

Kevin cleared his throat. "Anyway, before I stepped into a History of Ireland, I would just like to say that there is a Quidditch game taking place.

Harry clapped a hand against his forehead, letting out a low moan. "I forgot that was today. Ravenclaw verses Gryffindor, right?"

They nodded and he swore under his breath. With their help, Harry gathered the numerous books and dumped them in the resorting box in the middle of the library. Any book placed in the box would magically go back into its proper place on the shelves. A really handy thing, since Harry had completely forgot where he got most of the books from anyway. Grabbing his bag, Harry walked quickly out of the library with his friends at his side. Their footsteps were loud and echoing as they briskly walked down the empty corridors to the ground floor of the school. It seemed everyone was at the Quidditch game because there wasn't a single person in sight as far as they could see. Kevin stopped abruptly as they neared the Great Hall and entrance doors. The others stopped also, looking to him in confusion. Kevin swore under his breath.

"I'm sorry, guys," Kevin said apologetically, "I have to go the Hospital Wing and take my medicine. I totally forgot. Just go ahead and go to the game and I'll catch up later."

Harry held up a hand to stop him and say what medicine, but Kevin took off down the hall. Not at a regular pace neither. The speed he moved at was inhuman. His entire body practically blurred he was moving so fast. Super speed, Harry mused, must be nice. He turned to Terry and shrugged and they continued on their original path out of the school. The chilly air bit at them as they walked down the grounds toward the roaring of the Quidditch Pitch that was packed with students and teachers. Thick, billowy clouds covered the sky blocking the sun and making it just a little colder than it should be.

The Quidditch Pitch was longer than any football field by a great length. Surrounding the green field were tall, gold and red, and bronze and blue towers that held seats for all the students and faculty. The towers interchanged colors every game, sporting whatever colors of the teams playing. At opposite ends of the field were three tall pools each topped with a hoop. Players decked in blue and red zoomed through the air, riding broomsticks that ranged in quality and speed. Harry stared up as they came to the Ravenclaw tower that most of their house sat in. The tower held a spring door that allowed easy entrance to the top.

"Fuck, that's a lot of stairs," Terry whistled, staring at the winding, wooden stairs that led to the top where their seats were.

Harry gave him a clap on the back. "Well then we better get started."

Terry just groaned, muttering under his breath, as he followed Harry up the rickety stairs. It may have looked like a lot of stairs but it took them no time at all to get to the top. Harry wondered if it was magic working, but didn't think on it too long. They shoved past some older teens lounging by the doorway, and found an empty row to sit on that had a perfect view of the ongoing game. Harry looked at the score. On a large blackboard mounted on the top of a long pole was the score. Ravenclaw had thirty and Gryffindor had twenty.

"Cool, we're winning," remarked Harry, pointing to the score.

Terry grinned. "Cho Chang is the new Seeker this year. She's supposed to be really good."

"Well, let's just hope she wows us by catching the Snitch before Gryffindor does," replied Harry. He looked over to the Gryffindor side. "Have you seen Hermione today?"

"I think she's sitting with Riley and her friends," said Terry, not even taking his eyes off the match. "At least she was earlier."

Harry stored that piece of information away. He hadn't known that Riley and Hermione were friends. The two girls had been introduced to each other by Harry on the train to Kings Cross for Yule. He hadn't known that they would actually become friends. Harry grinned inwardly. Riley being Hermione's friend was good. Now, she would have someone in Gryffindor watching her back just in case Weasley pulled any more of his superior crap. Harry looked around at the stands to see who was here. The Professors were all gathered together sitting in one tower. A confused look came on to his face. Professor Dumbledore was here for this game. Usually, the Headmaster didn't show up for the Quidditch games. Everyone assumed he was just too busy to attend. It looked like he made time for this game.

"Cho! You stupid bitch get the fucking Snitch!"

"Dammit! Wake up, Chang!"

Harry snapped from his daze, hearing the outcry of voices come from all around. He gazed around staring at his frustrated and angry housemates. Raising eyebrows in surprise, Harry looked back to the game. It seems that Cho Chang had been caught spacing off at a bad time. The Snitch had been spotted and Gryffindors Seeker, a pretty black girl with light green eyes, was already on its trail. The shouts of rage grabbed Cho's attention and regaining her balance, she sped off on the girl's trail. Cho's long black hair trailed behind her like a streamer, as she raced through the air on the other Seeker's heels.

"Cho Chang is hot on Gryffindor Seeker, Alyssan Young's, heels!" screamed the excited voice of the announcer, Lee Jordon.

Harry tuned Lee out because, honestly, his commentary was a bit annoying and a lot of irritating. Instead he focused his attention on the hot dive taking place. The Golden Snitch hovered not more than ten feet above the ground in plain sight. Alyssan was in a vertical dive with Cho not more than a foot behind her. Slowly, Cho began to pull forward, but it was not enough. Alyssan stretched out her hand and putting on a burst of speed, she closed in on the Snitch and the whistle blew announcing the end of the game.

"Gryffindor wins 170 to 30!" screamed Lee, his magnified voice easily reaching over the cheers and or groans of the crowd.

Terry let out a loud swear that was barely heard, since pretty much everyone sitting around them was voicing their own disbelief or anger, quite verbally. Harry shivered suddenly as a feeling like never before raced up and down his spine. He gasped, as his sight clouded over. Suddenly, images came behind his eyelids pounding into his mind eye. There was a boy, he was running. Someone grabbed him. A scream of pure fear ripped from the boy's mouth. The one holding him ripped back their hand and reached for his throat. Blood. There was so much blood. Harry fought off his urge to vomit and focused harder, but it was useless. The images were coming too fast and made no sense whatsoever.

All he could figure out was that death was evident.

Gasping, Harry's eyes snapped open as he came back to his senses. He was sitting on the bleachers with his head in between his knees, and his breath came in short pants. From edge to edge his eyes glowed a bright, emerald green. He blinked rapidly, and slowly his eyes lost the glow and returned to normal. A hand touched his shoulder and he snapped his head up. Terry flinched back from the dark look covering Harry's face.

"You alright, mate?" he asked hesitantly. "What happened?"

Harry looked around and the tower was slowly emptying of their fellow Ravenclaws. He leaned in close to Terry, so he could whisper in the other boy's ear. "I just had a vision or something. I don't know what the hell it was. I… saw something."

Terry nodded, and said, "You do have Blessed Sight. No surprise you saw something, so what Unseen did you see?"

"Murder," replied Harry grimly.

"Where? Who!" Terry asked in a rush.

Harry shook his head. "I don't know. It was all coming too fast. I just know there was a murder."

Terry closed his eyes and evened out his breath. He entered into a light meditated trance that he had been taught by his mother and instructors. Quickly, he touched that part of his spirit or soul that had a link with water and everything associated with it. He opened himself up and simply listened to what the element had to say. A moment later he opened his eyes and looked to Harry with his lips set in a thin line.

"You're right. The oceans are restless and unsettled," Terry whispered in a far away voice that was slightly monotone. "They sing of a lost soul."

Harry stood up quickly, going to the door. "Come on," he said, urgently. "I have a bad feeling."

They exited the tower and walked past the border that marked off the area as the Quidditch Pitch. Harry walked at a brisk pace. He really did have a tingling feeling in his stomach that warned him of danger. By now, from researching, Harry knew that it was his Blessed Sight. The sense inherited from his mother that would kick in whenever the hell it felt like. They followed the crowd of students that slowly walked across the grounds to the castle. Suddenly, a single shrill scream, then multiple screams rang through the air, like some soundtrack from a slasher movie.

"Harry?" questioned Terry with a wide eyed look.

Harry was already moving forward pushing past the older students that crowded up ahead. They looked like a sea of black, as hundreds of black robed teens clustered around a walk worn path near the castle's entrance doors. Harry approached the middle of the circle with Terry following close behind him.

He had seen a lot of things in his life, but what lay before him was one of the top ten things of worst shit.

What lay before him, was the dead body of one of his fellow Ravenclaw students. His own year mate, dorm mate, Michael Corner.

He lay on his back on the ground. Lifeless blue eyes stared up into the sky. The sunlight shone down on the body, making it stand out like some odd spotlight. It was not like they couldn't see it. Oh yeah, they could see it very well. Long, deep cuts ran down the left side of his face, as if he had been swiped with a claw. Harry's emotions left him as he clinically went over the body. He frowned. It had to have been a claw. Nothing else could have cut into his face so deep. A claw had sliced over the eye, the left one, spilling blood and thick globs of clear gel like mucus down his cheek. The lower jaw was disfigured. Crushed was more like it. It was like a hand of incredible strength had grabbed it then somehow squeezed till there was nothing but mess. His face looked mutilated and unproportioned with the crushed jaw. Harry felt sorry Michael. These wounds were serious, but they weren't mortal, meaning it hadn't killed him, only hurt like a son of a bitch. The poor bastard.

Harry's eyes flickered down. Michael's throat had been torn out. Yes, that was what had killed him. The flesh was just gone, as if great fangs had completely tore it away, with powerful jaws. The spine shone a dull white, amongst the darkening, red blood. Like a bright pearl, the spine through his destroyed throat. His robes were ripped and disheveled, looking like he had gotten into a fight and lost. Blood, so much blood, pooled around his body, looking like an overly, large puddle that was steadily growing larger. Harry stepped back as the puddle of blood extended, touching the tips of his boots.

"Clear back! Please clear back!" shouted Professor Dumbledore, entering the ring with Professors Flitwick, Mr. Matheson, McGonagall, and Snape trailing behind him.

"Oh my!"

They all went through reactions that went from horror to shock then to disbelief. Harry looked around at his fellow students. Those closes enough to see was either wiping their mouths, because they vomited, or they were shedding tears. The students back far enough to not see stood on tip toes, or shouted out questions asking what happened and what was going on. Harry glanced at Michael to see how he was holding up. The boy was pale and his eyes were red from the heavy wiping he was doing to his eyes, as tears continued to pour down his face. Harry didn't offer comfort. Instead he turned back to the Professors to see what in the hell they planned to do about this. They didn't know who or what did this.

Dumbledore shook his head, and Harry frowned. Following the Headmaster's gaze his eyes stared at Michael's throat. Looking harder he saw something he hadn't see before. Around the throat wound were teeth marks. Definitely, not human ones. A light went off in his brain. The vision he had before. This was it. He looked around quickly. But where in the hell was the killer.

"Students I want," began Professor Dumbledore holding up his hands for silence to quiet the whispers, crying, shouts, that was going on. Still the noise continued on. Only by emitting a loud bang and red sparks from his wand, did the crowd calm down and turn to him.

Suddenly, from the crowd, Professor Quirrell stumbled into the circle. His cheek was bleeding from four gashes, running from cheekbone to chin. His throat was bleeding profusely also.

McGonagall let out a startled noise, and ran to the fallen man, helping him stand. Harry took in the Defense professor. His robes were ruined, because of the blood coating them, and his turban was askew exposing dark, brown hair. Harry noticed that Snape and Matheson were the only teachers who hadn't rushed forward to help the injured man. Instead, they stood back watching and calculating, staring at the man as if he were some specimen under a microscope. Hum, it seems that Harry wasn't the only one that knew Quirrell wasn't as mild mannered and extra mentally special as he seemed.

Quirrell looked at Professor Dumbledore, gasping and panting with battered breath. "I, we were attacked!"

Dumbledore placed a hand on the man's shoulder, the twinkle from his eyes long gone. "Calm down," he replied calmly. "Tell us what happened here. Did you see anything?"

"Yeah, I saw it," stuttered Quirrell. "I don't know what it was. I think it was student but he was inhuman. A monster! He came at us and he was too strong. I tried to fight but he so much stronger than me. He killed…" Quirrell broke off. Regaining his breath, he continued. "He killed, Michael Corner! I couldn't hold him off so I ran for my life and he chased me into the forest. I only barely managed to knock him out."

Nodding, Dumbledore placed a hand against Quirrell's un-bloodied cheek to silence him. "That is enough, Quintein. Professor Flitwick and McGonagall please escort him to the Hospital Wing." The Professors walked off, helping the limping professor along. Dumbledore turned to the crowd, taking full charge of the situation. "I want all students in their Common Rooms now! Head Boy and Girl! Take charge! Prefects, escort the First Years!"

The Prefects immediately went into action, and the crowd began moving forward. A sense of unity flowed from the crowd as they walked forward. Some of the people, who glimpsed the body, threw up, fainted, or braved it. Those who braved it helped others along, taking them by the hand, and led them on forward. Harry was proud to see that Riley, Draco, Terry, and Hermione were braving it out.

Although he did wonder what made Hermione and Draco strong enough to stomach the sight. Riley and Terry he knew. Riley's father was an Archangel, enough said. Terry had seen Harry kill a zombie, and he had extensive training in blocking feelings, thanks to his mediation and discipline. But, Hermione and Draco… They couldn't have seen even a third of what Harry had in his young life… so what made them only flinch at the sight of a dead peer? That was a question he had to ponder another day because right now he had more important stuff to worry about.

Like where in the hell was Kevin.

That question stayed on his mind as he walked silently beside Terry, and the Ravenclaws. He had been gone for almost three hours now. There was no way it took that long to go the Hospital Wing and then down to the Pitch. Harry bit his lip, as he followed Terry through the Mirror Portal that led into the Common Room. Maybe something had happened to Kevin, Harry wondered, not hearing the whispers and sounds of crying filling through the air at the moment. In a daze he took a seat in the windowsill. Terry pulled up a chair and they looked at each other then down at the ground, neither knowing what to say. Harry looked around. Others were in much the same position. What do you say when one of your own gets murdered by some killer that you don't even know? Really, what do you say at a time like this? Nothing. And that was precisely what was being said.

Nobody said a word.

That was how it stayed for almost twenty five minutes.

First, whispered conversations stared, and then developed slowly, till finally the Common Room was flying with activity. Everybody had a suggestion and the mood in the air was angry and somber. Somber that such a young spirit had been taken from the Earth, and pissed because that young spirit was one of their own. Someone they should have been watching better and looking after closer. That was what a house did for one another.

"What could have done something like this?" asked Wesley Price, his deep voice carrying across the room.

Roger Davies, a third year, stood up, his eyes wide and face pale. "Whatever it was wasn't human! Anyone with enough sense could tell that!"

Cho Chang rose from her seat, staring hard at her fellow Quidditch teammate. "You don't know that, Roger! Quirrell is an idiot! We don't know how true his story is."

"Chang, don't be dense!" shouted Eddie Carmichael, a second year, looking at her with a harsh stare. "You saw… We all know that nothing human could have done that."

"What are suggesting?" snapped Cho, crossing her arms with. Her form shaking slightly, still in her mind she could see Michael Corner lying there, dead and broken.

"I think it was a demon," said Anthony Goldstein softly, speaking up in the silence that followed Cho's question.

He was pale and tear tracks had dried on his cheeks. Michael had been a good friend of his. Next to him was Stephen Cornfoot. He was in much the same shape, with his puffy eyes, and pale face. But his eyes, they looked like they were staring faraway, not focusing on anything, merely gazing at the unknown. Harry could tell right now that Stephen would be fucked up for years. He was going to need some industrial strength counseling. Anyone could tell simply by looking at him.

Roger glared at him. "Don't be silly, First Year. A demon couldn't have gotten onto the grounds of Hogwarts. This place is far too warded for that. Read Hogwarts, A History then come talk to me."

Harry rolled his eyes. Roger was getting on his last nerve. The First Year comment was too much and he let his mouth open without hesitation. Staring up at the tall teen, he glared icily, and quipped, "Then enlighten us to what you think it was, jackass."

"I think it was a Vampire."

Harry blanched as his face lost its color. Terry turned to him his eyes wide and Harry bit his lip, subtly shaking his head. No, Roger couldn't know about Kevin. He couldn't suspect that Kevin had killed Michael. Harry wouldn't believe that. Kevin was a vampire of soul. They didn't kill like the other species. But… where was Kevin. Where had he been this whole time?

Marietta Edgecomb snorted under her breath. Her curly, reddish blond hair was tied back in a ponytail that bounced as she stood up. "Everyone do not listen to Roger," she said, loudly. "A vampire being around Hogwarts is absurd."

Roger raised an eyebrow. "Oh really," he sneered. "And why is that?"

"I don't know!" snapped Marietta, her cheeks flushing a cheery red. "It's just impossible."

She sat down on the couch with a huff. Crossing her arms, she glared up at Roger, who was staring her with a superior smirk. Everyone in the Common Room knew that they weren't really mad at one another. In fact they were good friends, but the whole situation had everyone tense and on edge. With a killer on the loose no one knew what to do. Harry looked around. He could see many of his housemates weighing the option in their mind. Slowly, many of them began sprouting out theories about vampires and why one would be at Hogwarts. They began to get loud and arguments erupted in the room as the theories became ludicrous with every passing moment.

"Children, settle down!"

Everyone looked toward the voice. The Grey Lady, better known as Lady Morgana, came gliding through the wall in all her transparent glory. With a sharp gaze that made many of them shiver, she barked out an order for them all to quiet.

"Now, who wants to tell me what is the problem?" she asked, staring around with those hard eyes. Her pretty face was fixed into a sharp glare that caused them to look down.

Harry spoke up since no one else seemed to. "Roger has the entire house believing that some vampire is on the grounds of Hogwarts."

"That's because it's true!" shouted Roger indignant.

Terry rolled his eyes, standing up, and replied sarcastically, "You don't even have any proof! Let's be for real here and stop playing, pointing fingers. You don't know a vampire did this."

"Shut up, gel boy!" Roger yelled, "No one asked your opinion."

Harry's face went slack and his eyes narrowed into slits. Those emerald orbs bored into the older boy with coldness and pure fury. Those watching got silent as they watched the savoir of the wizarding realm turn into an emotionless child. "Davies…" began Harry in a quiet voice that had no trouble carrying across the room."Don't ever talk to my friend that way again."

Roger gave him a slow look. A look that clearly said who in the fuck do you think you are. "What will you do if I did?"

Harry smiled and stepped forward.

Lady Morgana brought her see-through hands together as if clapping. A gust of wind surged through the circular room, causing Harry to be pushed back and for Roger to stumble and fall backward on his ass. The wind died and Lady Morgana ascended forward, her face stone cold, and her moving in an unfelt current. Her eyes glowed white as she stared both of the boys down. Roger looked like he was going to piss himself, but Harry was pissed. Davies had broken his last nerve. Instead of cowering under her gaze, Harry stared at her back, glaring at her with equal intensity.

If this bitch wants to play then we'll play. Unknowingly, his own eyes began to slowly shine a dark green and his fists clenched at his sides, were wound so tight that his nails bit into his skin drawing blood.

Suddenly, the Mirror Portal activated with a low whirling sound. Harry took a brief look at the entrance for only a moment. Then realizing what he just saw, he snapped his head back toward the portal. He gasped, mouth dropping open as he took in the sight before them all. No one in the room made a sound. They all stared in shocked silence. There framed in the entrance was Kevin. What caused them to react the way they did was his appearance. Harry for the first time was actually seeing Kevin in his true form. The boy's skin was shiny, almost translucent, making him glow in an otherworldly manner. His lilac eyes glowed, so dark and vibrant, looking like liquid fire that made them all want to fall into them. Kevin's blond hair fell around his head like a halo that radiated like polished gold. Overall, he was a beautiful creature that looked nothing human.

There was something else.

Coating Kevin's chin and around his mouth was blood. Thick globs of red blood clung to his face looking like he had rubbed his face in it as it were paint. His robes were ripped and drenched in blood also. It rolled down his robes in tiny rivulets, dripping onto the carpeted floor. Kevin opened his mouth to speak and someone screamed. For when he opened his mouth, they saw blood. It swirled all around his mouth staining his tongue and teeth. That was only one reason why people screamed. The scream came because when he opened his mouth, they also glimpsed two, long elongated fangs coated in blood.

"He's a fucking vampire!" shouted Roger Davies, pointing. "He killed Michael Corner!"

Kevin looked to Harry and Terry for help, but they only stared back stunned. Harry took a step forward, but stopped. He flinched at the hurt look that came from Kevin's flaming eyes of liquid fire. He couldn't bring himself to defend his friend… Maybe he really was a dangerous vampire. Vampires didn't need medicine so where in the hell was he and why did he lie?

Harry bit his lip, thinking, Kevin, what the hell have you done?