Chapter 1


My story is that of grief, suffering, love and blood My story is about a world which is so unlike the one you are used to. We live in the same one however; yet this underworld which remains hidden depends on secrets and your crimson liquid to survive.

My name? For this era it is Hilary Tatibana. It changes depending on the era of which I live in – how ever the place and clocks will most likely never change.

I am an immortal of a certain type I suppose. I am most certainly not something that you would have most likely heard of. I live in the shadows much like my gothic counterparts, my consorts and lovers with sharpened canines ready to break your delicate skin and take your living blood. Mine was never alive unlike yours; your soft skin, your warm bodies and constantly rhythmic hearts that beat to your bodily feelings and actions.

Oh how can you not know how much we love you? You are so very beautiful, with your flushed skin and faces full of expression. Forgive me; I am unused to communicating with mortals. Especially those of young innocents as you are my darling, my reader of this story as I guide you with my seductive words into this dark hell which you have dreamt of in only your most darkest of dreams.

I wasand still is an ancient, the result of one thousand years of watching with only my constant dreams and thoughts to guide me in a daze through torn back alleyways. Feeding off the energy that mortals unwittingly waste. My long high heeled black leather boots and long black trench coat that would often tickle the ground around me in a broken circle.

There had been a fight around here, my preternatural instinct guiding me here as a puppeteer would his puppet, with silk white strings ready to be tangled up in the grim face of destiny and fate. Oh how I had despised those words! Destiny and Fate! I was my own; I had abandoned my flock of eternal philosophers to discover the silver painted world of the night time.

It had been wonderful, to be free! Oh so cruel was my life from before that point. Nought but ritual and rites that had lasted over a million years in a house where they would feed off the energies of their serving mortals and blame the evils of their house on passing blood drinkers whilst they dreamt and watched the world go by.

I was never a philosopher, a thinker nor a watcher; I was a doer! I was of my kind that would travel the world as an immortal bird, taking myself where very my flight would take me.

However, back to my story.

This back alleyway I spoke of; I was hungry, unused to the sweet energies that innocent's share. I wished for something of a more bitter taste, a flavour I was used to from my thousand years of servitude in my flock, this bitterness comes from those who embrace a darker side of innocence, for when you are mortal you can not truly be tainted, the immortal ones would never allow it.

But oh! How my thirst was quenched! It was perfect, as though you had wasted away on sweet things in life, the rich foods with no real nutrition in them, no goodness; but this: I relished in this.

It was at this point my young life as a philosopher I came about him. He who lay sprawled in a gutter. His head severed beside a bloody body, his marble skin stained with rich crimson liquid as he lay there unable to piece himself together; waiting for his blessed end when the sun would come up and his body if weak enough would be turned to ashes.

If he had been as unlucky enough to have not to have burned to fine grey ashes he would still lay there, his finely sculpted body burned black as his death became more and more prolonged.

The agony. I couldn't stand it. I had to help him.

With the most gentle precision I picked up the bodiless head, his eyes flying open – a handsome scowl on a grimy face – and staring at me with a look of utter distrust.

I knew he couldn't speak. This similar thing had happened to the one they call Voltaire; his pain had been unsurpassable as he lay in his rooms of his Castle in Russia for almost a year after the peasants on the surrounding lands had came and revolted against the noblemen less than one hundred years ago.

His eyes were crimson, a sign of his blood drinker status. Unnatural white skin and bloody bangs that masked half of his most handsome face. I must confess to you that I loved him instantly, he was a true creature of beauty, and I adored him.

With careful fingers and unnatural strength I picked up his draining body and wrapped his head most carefully in my arms. I did not want to hurt him anymore than the agony he was already in.

I shall not describe my journey to where I resided, my spacious apartment filled with mortal's gadgets and machines; these I also loved dearly, and found much pleasure and fascination in using this equipment, often spending weeks on end on them, only stopping to feed and sleep.

My story also does not require the details necessary to tell you how helped this mysterious blood drinker fix his head back upon his body.

Let us just say that it was done, and my immortal soul was drained, so tired that I scarcely had the strength to retire to my rooms and tumble onto my large bed, a sculpture of silks and satins of dark purples and midnight blues.

I was asleep almost instantaneously.

I could hear his groans of pain as he rose, I myself was rising also, hungering as much as he was thirsting; my pale faced beauty with his wonderfully chalked skin and bloody eyes. Yes, I was glad I'd saved him. My wonderful vampiric lover.

In a daze I felt arms pull me into a hard body, not that of a mortals, warm with a beating heart – but that of stone, with no warmth or reassuring blood running through his body. He held me as he would a lover, kissing my forehead, checks and lips, slowly making his way down to my bare neck which I arched in anticipation.

It is most likely that you will never be bitten by a one as ancient as he was, the youngest of his kind will wrench you away and almost break you beautiful and tender necks with the lust he will have for what is constantly pulsing in you. However the older he will be, the more he will love you, taking you gently into his arms like my lover did to me, sinking pointed pearls into your neck whilst kissing you, loving and adoring you.

It was the first time I was bitten, and never was my last. It was wonderful to melt into his sculpted body and allow him to drink from my slender neck, small moans escaping my mouth as I fed off his energies and he drank of my crimson liquid.

Never will you have such intimacy as we did without the need for sex.

No Vampire - cosmic or blood – needs sex, it is a mortal motion that only mortals will enjoy. To an immortal sex is replaced by their kinds own bodily desires; nothing else.

With a lustful haze placed over us we kissed as only lovers kiss and feasted as only lovers will feast. An eternal movement that we had no wish to be separate.

It was only until he took the final draught, draining me of my immortal elixir, did I collapse into his arms, finally helpless and so infuriatingly weak I felt him lay me back onto my bed and leave my room.

This happened for what seemed like an eternity, he would trap inside with a mortal and let me absorb the energies mortals do emit, before draining us both – gently laying my helpless body down and disposing the inanimate body of the mortal.

For what seemed like an era later did he do what had been ritual, setting in a frightened mortal as I would feed off those bitter energies that they would emit, he drained him. I waited for my turn, although I was not bitter, I still loved him as I did the moment I first saw him. Despite his cool manner and calculated ways of regenerating.

I noticed for the first time he did not drain me straight away, as had become customary between us. Instead he kissed me once more like he had done on the first day and whispered in my ear the first words I'd heard him speak to me.

"Thank you" his monotonous voice penetrated through my body sending shivers down it. "I could not find another way to fully… regenerate." He still held me close to his body, still white as marble and as hard. He kissed me again upon the lips. "Your blood… white fire…"

My arm, free from the way he was holding me, I rose it to his mouth, the wrist, the place where a mortal's blood vessels are most prominent, inviting him to drink again. My ruby eyes filled with silent adoration for the one who I had saved.

He let out a soft laugh and took my hand, turning it gently so he held it in a courteous manner before kissed the back of my hand. His lips cold yet soft, crimson red still from the blood he had taken from the mortal.

There was no silence between us despite the lack of words that escaped our lips. He left me so I could dress into beautiful gothic costumes that someone had lined my wardrobes with, colours of dark purples, crimson reds and midnight blue silks and velvets for me to wear; of fitting corsets that left my chalked shoulders bare and long skirts that swept the stained oak floorboards.

I finally chose my garments of a soft black trousers and a slightly opened white shirt. Finally leaving my room for the first time for months; my pace graceful as I glided along my pathway to him, he seemed immensely pleased with what I was wearing, his arm outstretched as I took it.

He himself looked strangely beautiful in his own way, his face was deathly pale, as though he had been dusted with chalk, his crimson eyes alluring and capturing my own ruby eyes into their drowning pools of darkness; his sculptured body hidden in black trousers and a turtle neck; his pale blue bangs fell about his face in an elegant rebellion, his navy undertones tied loosely at the back.

'You wish to know my name? It is Kai.'

This thoughts cut through mine as a blade would silk. Even in my mind it resounded inside me and made me shiver. With a marble hand he lifted my chin as though studying me. He raped my mind.

"A female vampire?" His voice was almost bored as he continued to study me. "You do not see many who last over the age of three centuries."

"What can I say? I am unlike most of them." My voice remained level, not giving anything away despite the unfamiliar sensation of him exploring my thoughts and emotions. My words earned nothing though I felt the flicker of amusement in him before it was destroyed almost immediately.

"I would hardly say that. Most are foolish to love those they drain." His words were mocking me as he guided me into my study, everything had been altered to suit his tastes, my mind – though still I adored him – felt a flicker of annoyance as he treat me like a guest in my own home; the irony.

"How can you tell me you can not love them? They are beautiful." I objected quietly as he sat me down upon his lap and rested his head upon my breast. He was silent; not wishing to respond as I subconsciously stroked his silky hair, enjoying the feel of it through my slender fingers.

I had once more lost all sense of time as we both sat like this; it was not until there was a loud noise coming from the ground floor on the east wing did I feel him grip me tighter. He stood up still clinging to me with his strong protective arms and a growl emitting from his throat. I clung to him, mirroring his concern with my own. I will admit right now that I was scared, for Kai had not appeared all too concerned when I had first found him.

It was then when we heard the same noise coming up my staircase, without warning he proceeded to pick me up as a mortal groom would his bride and smashed my window of which he jumped out of. I was most surprised by this motion as he then proceeded to gently place me down and begin to walk away from the place I had lived the past decade in.

I followed him zealously as he walked away, not knowing what else I should do. My home invaded and this death I walked in now mere ashes in a windswept 'scape.

I shall once more not fill in the details of our journey, for they are not important but I may tell you that the wonderful gothic hotel which was most deserted. We sat down together; if I had not been in such a state of anger and alarm at the time I knew I would have taken time to view the wonderful decoration of this magnificent building.

"Are you not to tell me what is going on?" I had asked him with a tone of impatience in my voice; he looked at me, his crimson eyes scanning me as machines do to their programming.

"You speech does not match this era." He commented dryly; his seductive voice not giving anything away.

"This language is not of my mother tongue." I murmured. "I was taught the modern languages a mere three centuries ago." He nodded as though thoughtful and moved to the fire, watching it's continuous flame as it rose and flickered before falling and dying.

How very much like what mortals do.

"Tell me what did just happen at my home?" I asked him, my anger now smothered by curiosity; my mind now realizing that I had not in fact taken the time to ask him just who he was. I felt the overwhelming urge and yearning as to find out about him, learn his secrets.

I had to know, I had to learn.

"You wish to know my story?"

His voice soft with thought, as though he ponder as to whether or not he should tell me.

"Yes, I would like that." My words caused him to turn to me, his eyes once more connecting with mine. He walked effortlessly over to me and sat down.

"Very well, I shall tell you."


Luna-chan - A MaSk Of LiEs: Wow.. I've never wrote anything like this before, and it did take me over a month to write... (mainly because I've been so busy) Erm... Yeah, not much to say really except I really wanted to do a Vampire FanFiction with Kai and Hilary, so I did -sweatdrops-