Chapter One
16 Years Earlier:
Dear Mr. Booker,
I hope that you can understand my decision here. You see, the girl's mother just passed away. I can't raise her on my own. I understand if it's too much to ask, but please love her and take care of her as if she were your own. Her name is Mary Alice Brandon, and she's almost a year old. I'll be back for her in a few years. If I'm not, please know that something very terrible has happened. I'll be back for my daughter.
Edmund Booker picked up the baby, staring into its peculiar gray eyes. The baby was beautiful, with rosy cheeks and the beginning of what was sure to be beautiful jet-black hair. Now, Mr. Booker hated children, and he didn't like this one more than any of the others. But this one he pitied, and surely she couldn't be too bad. After all, she had just been abandoned by her father and had sat on the stoop for who knows how long, yet the poor thing wasn't even crying. So he sighed and walked into the house, leaving the wretched note on the stoop.
"I'll have to leave for work soon. Then I'll be back to start packing, okay? You just sit tight for an hour." There was no doubt that Mr. Booker felt foolish talking to a baby that couldn't even talk back, but he'd been lonely for many years now, and he enjoyed the human company.
Mr. Booker walked down the sidewalk, looking for a nice apartment building to do business in. He saw one, Appleton Estates, that looked pretty run down. He walked in and went up the elevator to the top floor. Then he walked down one of the hallways till he reached the back of the building. No one was watching, so he twisted the unlocked door knob and slipped into the room.
Claire lived in Appleton Estates because these days, the economy was booming and she didn't quite trust it. So, she rented out this cheap little apartment because when prices were raised on this thing she'd be able to afford it. Her mother always told her that made no sense and Claire would be on the streets someday, but Claire simply shrugged and got the apartment anyways.
Things had always been quiet before, and she couldn't understand why there was suddenly a pale man with his eyes closed standing in her living room.
"W-w-what d-do you w-want?" she stammered. Claire was absolutely positive that the man could hear her heart hammering in her chest. He certainly looked like he could, for he was standing there with his eyes still shut, breathing in and out deeply. Then he spoke, his eyes still shut.
"I want you to keep your door locked. Then maybe next time I won't be so tempted." He said this with his eyes still shut.
"Next time?" she asked him, a little less afraid. So she wouldn't die. Maybe just robbed. It'd still be unfortunate, but nothing in her apartment was nice, and it would be easily replaceable.
"Next time?" He asked, his eyes shooting open. Claire was too afraid to scream. "I'm sorry, I think I misspoke, there won't be a next time for you."
And then he lunged forward. The last thing she heard was his beautiful voice. The last thing she felt was those hands on her neck, those stone-like hands that were as cold as ice and looked like they must have been carved of marble. The last thing she smelled was his sweet breath as he leaned his face down to sink his teeth down into the flesh of her neck.
The last thing she saw? The flash of his blood-red eyes. His eyes were filled with excitement. The excitement a tiger feels when a rabbit is within his reach.
The excitement of a predator on the hunt.