Chapter 1: Dom Von Kraige: The Vampire

To Kiss a Killer

Chapter 1: Dom Von Kraige: The Vampire

I’m twenty two; at least that’s what you’d think if you got a good look at me, and I’m a vampire, the creation of one of the most feared Immortals to ever walk the Earth. My maker, Demiesius, has been around for more than three thousand years, while I’ve only been around for five hundred, but my ranks are there. I get most of my respect for simply being his progeny, but I want more glory. Demiesius is a great maker and all, but I want to be known for more than being his Child by Night. That’s why I’ve only recently joined the Assassin Assassins Association: The Triple A or to be funny, The A*s, for short. That’s where vampires slay slayers trying to slay vampires.

Difficult, not really; those foolish humans don’t know anything about vampires, let alone how to detect one who’s not bearing their fangs. Slayers catch us in action; we catch them without need to witness as they draw their stake. I know; we’re that good.

But… despite my ranks in slaying slayers, I’ve only just begun to get a little edgy with the humans. They’ve adapted new territory, new tasks, and recently I found out I was on one of those b*****d’s lists. It’s not like I’m afraid, though; even if I happen to die, it’ll be nice to know Demiesius will be there to rip them to shreds for taking the life of his Child by Night. They’d be as good as dead by the time I hit the floor.

Tossing a wad of paper in the nearby trashcan, I reached for another stray document on Demiesius’ desk, crumpled it in my hands, and tried to become the ultimate champion of trash-ball, missing yet again and added to the many other wads distributed about the floor that was clean… before I got here.

Demiesius continued to ramble on his phone behind his desk, his chair turned the other way so that he wasn’t facing me. I kicked my boots up on the summit of the wooden face, leaned my chair back; bored out of my mind as usual.

I hated when he’d call me to his office. It was always to tell me something I didn’t want to hear. And right about now, I didn’t want to hear him talk during a side conversation anymore.

Testing my limits, I pushed myself further back in the chair, soon losing balance and crashed to the black carpeted floor. “That hurt,” I told myself as Demiesius rotated in his chair, speaking to his associate while giving me a look of disappointment. He was dressed in his every night black business suit with his short cut black hair neatly combed back, and his polished shoes shining no matter how dim it was in the room.

As I worked myself from the floor, I could hear Demiesius ending this phone call with, “I’ve got to go, Lortis; there’s a little discipline needing to be carried out.” But his little threat didn’t bother me in the least. He was feared yet harmless, especially to me. The last time I remember him actually punishing me for anything was… four hundred and thirty seven years ago… or thirty one.

I brushed off my pants and fixed my black T-shirt, taming the annoying curl that willed itself to dangle in my face for all hours of the night. “Dom,” Demiesius sighed, “What am I going to do with you?”

“I don’t know,” I said with a knowing shrug, “Maybe you could hurry up and give me my next task, so I won’t die of boredom in this office.”

“Alright, alright,” he motioned for me to take a seat, “There’s a new family in town: slayers, obviously, and get a load of this: one of them, somehow, has been given an assignment. And guess who it is?”

I leaned back in the chair again, playing with my weight, “Since I’m already on the list, I’d have to say, I don’t know?”

“I am.”

“What!?” I nearly imploded from the news. “Whoever that f****r is better think twice before touching you. I swear to Lilith, Demiesius, I’ll go on a killing spear until every last human is begging to help me find who did it. Who is this mother-?”

Demiesius raised a hand, a commanding gesture ordering me to bit my tongue so he may speak. “Calm yourself, my child,” he said in a voice too understanding for me. I didn’t get his motive to be so composed. “This human has a death wish if they ever put their hands on me; I’m not weak, I know how to handle myself.”

“I know, I just… you don’t know who they are?”

“Just the simple fact that they reside in this city, is all I’m aware of. When the European Region has him locked down, I’ll know.”

It bugged me how easy he was taking this news. When I was informed that my name had been added to a slayer’s task list, because I killed off a pack of imprudent humans pretending to be vampires, I lost every ounce of cool that sat under my pastel skin.

Disturbed with the thought of someone coming after my maker, I tried helplessly to keep my attitude in check; at least until I was no longer in Demiesius’ presence. “However,” he smiled, “I have relieving news for you, my son. The American Regional Queen has informed me that she’s recently gotten a hold of a couple documents saved on the internet by none other than the slayer who’s been marked down for your name.” The grin widened to a chuckle, “And I’ve been given the liberty to add him to your personal commission’s inventory.”

Demiesius handed me a file that was sitting at the corner of his desk. “Is this a record of him?”

He nodded his reply.

I took the file in my hand and flipped it open, scanning through each article of text to get anything useful on this person. His name was Ciel Dalton, and he had black hair that was as dark as mine, gray eyes, five foot three inches, talented in the art of slaying, and belonged to the flair of the Dalton Family. I marveled over the name Dalton, something familiar striking me about it. I couldn’t recall how I knew the name, but I figured it wasn’t anything too important since it was a blur to me.

This kid was discerned as a professional slayer even though he was just seventeen years old. His killings rose what seemed to be every week, killing at least five vampires in a week every month, has been killing ever since he was twelve. This kid was good; motivated strongly by his grandfather Julius Dalton… the man I now remembered was trained specially by the slayer’s legend Hamilton: the greatest vampire killer to grace the human race.

I was in for a challenge.

There’s no telling how good this kid was, but who was I to fear something easily broken? I’d have him dead in a second if we ever came into contact.

“I deem you are impressed to a certain extent?” Demiesius said as I looked over a photograph of the teenager, one taken from his online social account. “This boy, he’s got a lot to live up to; though, I will see him executed.”

Setting the photo in my pocket, I crossed my arms, “Eh, he’ll be just as easy as the rest. Just because he’s got a bloodline different from anyone else’s doesn’t mean I can’t take him. He’s just another blood bag waiting to be slit open.”

Demiesius folded his hands together, taking in my load of cockiness. “Well, then; that’s good to hear, but understand that I want him dead… and I want him dead soon. I love you as if you were my own son. I will not have you returned to me as a pile of ash.”

I stood then, stretching for a moment before turning for the door. “You got it, Mister I-hand-out-demands-because-I’m-old. Since he lives close by, I’m sure he won’t be too hard to find.”

After wishing Demiesius a swell night, I proceeded to exit his office and headed for the elevator with the file handed to me in my jackets inside pocket.

Going down to the main floor of the covert vampire Association building, I looked over the photograph of my slayer again, bolting his image to my mind so I wouldn’t need to pull out the picture again, his face would be imbedded in my memory, and my memory was good… most of the time.

When I made it to the main floor, I wished the lobby attendant a good evening and entered the night.

Walking the night before without knowing the face of my slayer was something that set in my mind, but now that I was certain of his features and whereabouts, I felt there was nothing to fear; however, I couldn’t help but wonder what the Slayer Public was doing targeting me and my maker in the first place. I thought we were supposed to be "invisible" to the SP. Anyways, if I were to sentence someone in the Dalton family to death, I would practically be granting myself with fame. The vampire who killed the great Hamilton is praised… if only we knew his name. It’s as if whoever did it wanted us to know Hamilton was dead, but restrained from making their face known. Still, I don’t know if I’d want my face known either. With the thought of just about every slayer in the world wanting you dead for killing their idol, it was fairly unnerving.

Sometimes secrecy was crucial.

After several minutes of making my way back to my apartment on Creaser Boulevard, I stumbled upon peculiar sounds coming from the far side of Jude’s Square. In the distance, once my sight had adjusted to the far off darkness, I could make out two fierce figures taking part in an intense moment of combat. Fists flew, and kicks struck. They were battling like two opponents in a Mortal Kombat terminate.

Obviously it was a mêlée to the death for them both; my mind being snagged by the incidence of one of the fighters being a vampire, and the other being human. The female vampire tried for a roundhouse kick; though, missed and received a blow to the side of her face with the slayer’s fist,

The slayer was dressed in black from head to toe, their face guarded by a half face mask that shielded everything below the bridge of their nose, and a useful utility belt holding up his flexible pants constructed with pure silver stakes, and some kind of chain with a half circular blade attached to it.

I watched them go at it for what seemed like only a second until I heard a stricken grunt come from the female vampire. She was going to lose, and when that was clear in the way the slayer grasped his deadly stake, I knew I couldn’t watch anymore.

With a vampire’s stamina, I dashed in their direction. Crossing the midnight, unpopulated street to get to Jude’s Square, I zipped passed the centering fountain, and gripped the slayer’s wrist before he could even think twice about bringing his stake down on the vampire’s chest.

He lost the game.

The slayer’s light eyes stared with passionate hatred into mine, his panting breaths being muffled by his mask. “Get out of here,” I ordered the female vampire, and since she could make out the flow of Demiesius’ authoritative blood within my veins, she used what strength she had to dart away as fast as she could.

Playfully, not yet ready to throw away the slayer, I opened my fangy mouth, and let out a hiss that made him wish he could get away. “You smell wonderful,” I disdainfully said with a grin, “A positive, delicious.”

The slayer shook to get away from me, but as my grip on him tightened, his motions came to a stop, just stood there before me as I debated on how I’d take his life.

I lifted my opposite hand, coiling a strand of his shoulder length, sleek, and straight, dark tresses with my finger. “Why do you slayers always insist on wearing these silly masks? Either way, in a brawl, someone is going die. What’s the point of hiding?”

He didn’t answer me, of course, and settled his tired breathing. I ripped the stake he wielded from his hand, even though the slight touch of silver burned the hell out of my hand, and threw it into the penny filled fountain several feet off. He watched it plop into the dark water, and I reached my hand to pull down his mask, only to make him budge even more to get away from me.

Why not kill him now? It was fun.

I took hold of the rim of his mask and tugged it down until his face was known to my eyes. He eyes soft, his petite nose, lips, his light facial appearance was something I knew, and then it hit me like a ton of brick walls toppling down. I kept my hold on him and bug in my pocket, worked out the photograph of my slayer, and sure enough… it was him; his gray eyes, his pink lips, everything from the light tone of freckles on his winter-kissed cheeks.

“You…?” I almost muttered. “You’re the slayer hunting me?”

His voice was unintimidating when he ordered, “Release me.”

My eyes looked about his face, how gorgeous he was up close and in person.

Ciel Dalton. “What is a boy like you doing murdering for a living?” I said.

He batted his eyes mischievously, “What is a vampire like you not doing killing me?”

He was amusing to the eye, a mere contradiction in itself to say the least with his stature, and for some reason I was contained from driving my fangs into him. Just a few minutes ago I wished him dead, now strangely I wanted him in my bed. “Y’know,” I said, “I’m not all too sure.”

A seductive smile tugged at his mouth, and he stepped closer to me, playful in his own manner, smoothing his free hand up my hard chest. “I don’t even know who you are, vampire. Why don’t you go on a let me go, now. I wouldn’t want to end up killing you like I’ve done all your other vampire brethren.”

Without heed Ciel, the slayer, turned me around, overpowering me with his endurance, and had a stake to my chest faster than I anticipated, but he didn’t drive it into my heart… surprisingly.

“You’re dead,” he whispered in my ear.

I laughed aloud, humored by his attempts, and found them very flirtatious. “You’re right; I’ve been dead for five hundred plus years. You’re a smart one, I must admit.”

Ciel furrowed his brow in utter confusion, releasing me so that I could turn around, but he wasn’t letting his guard down for a second. “What is up with you?” he said, “Why aren’t you trying to kill me? Seeing that you seem to know who I am, can’t you understand that I can kill you right here… right now?”

I faced him again, a knowing smile settling on my face. “Question is: why haven’t you killed me?”

“You’re annoying,” he said with intent.

“You’re beautiful.”

Ciel’s cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. He slid his stake back into a vacant strap on his belt, and turned away from me, something slayers were always told not to do.

Never turn your back on a vampire.

 I watched his nice a*s as he walked away from me, the alluring sway of his, slender hips with every distancing step he took. “Goodnight, vampire,” he said continuing his walk. “I’ll come back and kill you when I know who you are. I’m not comfortable going after a target I’m unsure of.” He stopped and looked back at me, a wink catching his eye, “Don’t wait up.”

Damn.

I want him more than I've ever wanted anyone. I've had sex with at least a thousand plus more different people in my eternal life both men and woman; have bedded countless people in the past, but Ciel, my slayer, was something different.

It's a shame he has to die

Author's Note

What do you think of Dom so far? Cocky, Clever?

Reviews

[David the writer]

Greatly written. Liked vampires slaying humans slaying vampires. Although didn't like your image of vampires, you still wrote this well. Better than I could.

[Taylor H.]

This is really good! I think this was written very well and I could find a single mistake in it. I think Dom is cocky but in a good way. Vampires should be. I really wish I could find something to mark on this but I really cant. This was really good :)

[Faith]

Love the take on slayers and A*s! Yes, please continue.

[butterfly]

very interesting please write more +_+