Great Kingston, the pageantry project in America. A showcase for all that modernity had to offer and yet here Ryan was, at 2am, sitting in the back seat of a cheap taxi, driving through the seedier streets of the northern, outer part of the city. Not that you could call this district ghetto, but it was built first back then and with the rapid growth of the city, this part was increasingly neglected.

  Vivienne sat to his left and so far kept silent towards him. "I admire your ambition," she said. Her words were directed at the taxi driver. "And how long have you been waiting for the answer?"

  "Six weeks, I think," the Asian-featured young man replied enthusiastically. He had told them his name was Kenneth and he was studying archaeology. “Mind you, the dig starts in a fortnight. If I were there, I’d probably know by now. Not everyone can have the privilege and good fortune to work with Professor Alvarado."

  "My colleague at the museum sometimes exchanges ideas with him. The professor is not only a real expert, but is also said to be very sociable. Sometimes even too much so if there’s a good beer."

  "Really? Your colleague sounds enviable."

  "I do love Alvarado’s technical articles," Vivienne confessed. For almost twenty minutes now she had been talking to the driver about history, historical pces and what so ever belonged to the past. "And his columns in Stonehenge magazine often make me smile."

  "Yes, especially when he cleverly puts people through the ringer. Who said archaeology was dry as dust?" the Kenneth grinned broadly in the rear-view mirror.

  "Only people who don’t understand our enthusiasm for ancient things," Vivienne giggled brightly and gnced at Ryan.

  The taxi driver did the same as he eyed the rear view mirror. "He’s not a relic though, is he? At least he’s as quiet as one and seems a bit mysterious too. And Jesus, his eyes ... I’ve never seen green like that."

  Ryan sat there with his hands folded on his p and he looked introspectively into the mirror.

  "Creepy, too, in a way," Kenneth added, focusing fully on the road again. The traffic was moderate, for the time of night.

  Vivienne grew more serious. "Would you believe me if I told you there was some kind of spell on him?"

  "Mhh, difficult, difficult," Kenneth admitted. "I’ll risk it: yes, I believe you."

  "Fooled you," Vivienne winked and pretended to be silly, casually tapping Ryan’s arm. "No, no. He’s just had a bloody exhausting evening."

  "And with the night just getting started."

  "A connoisseur."

  "Well, it’s just my time," Kenneth said, lifting his fingers from the steering wheel for a moment to give himself a confident air. "I know about it."

  "A kindred spirit," Vivienne smiled. She slid onto her knees and leaned forward between the seats.

  Meanwhile, Ryan just wished the taxi would reach its destination, because if his companion kept her word, he could talk to her there. Until then, he obeyed her command and remained composed, but at least he had realised that his thoughts were entirely his own.

  He thought back to the pce from before, which had turned out to be one of the finest restaurants in Great Kingston. True Paradise they called it and after Lady Gardner had spared him, only Mr Saunders was present. "Please, follow me," the gravedigger with the gaunt face asked politely. Although every stitch of his clothing combined drab and graceful design, his hair somewhat broke the image of the fine gentleman. The wide forehead and half-baldness was not the reason, however, but his hair to the side, which stood tousled and spiky to the sides.

  Though Ryan shakily straightened up, as the dy had told him to, he listened to the man and walked with him through a nondescript side door of the great hall. These were back rooms, which consisted mainly of a lounge and some offices in narrowly branching corridors.

  "Here," Mr Saunders invited his obedient guest and let him pass through a door that housed the suit-wearer’s name on a filigree gold pque. "That must have all been exhausting for you. Won’t you sit down?"

  Yes, questions upon questions piled up in Ryan’s mind and yet he was so strangely calm, which he himself did not understand. "Yes I, it’s been a long night." Ryan replied erratically as he sat down on one of two chairs in the cramped room.

  "And it’s only just begun," Saunders said monotonously, and despite the small room, there was a spacious office desk made of ornately crafted wood. It was no problem for the slender man to slide through the side and sit down in a no less noble chair, with a generous backrest, before he pced his briefcase on the table and opened it. "But don’t worry: I’ll take care of the pesky details. New ft, new identity, disposal of your old identity. By dawn, Ryan Walker will no longer exist."

  "What?" blinked Ryan, rubbing at his eyes. "I ... I will do as you say, but why should I no longer exist?"

  The rather unusual behaviour of Ryan did not seem to bother or surprise Saunders. His briefcase contained a modern, handy ptop and he used it with nimble fingers. "If Ryan Walker still exists, he leaves tracks and tracks can be followed. That won’t happen and introducing you to your new world will be Vivienne’s job. As a human, my knowledge of the creatures of the night is limited anyway. I know some of the culture and the rules, but I have never been initiated into deeper secrets or the life of a vampire per se. It honestly doesn’t interest me either, although working for the Tenebrae is interesting even after 60 years."

  "Vampires, Tenebrae," Ryan repeated. His thoughts were as if subdued as he asked about all this now, without the slightest excitement. "Vampires ... exist?"

  "As sure as I’m sitting here. There is a lot of fiction that exists and you are now a part of it. You’re a vampire."

  "This must just be a bad show," Ryan said, actually wanting to shout it all out. He grabbed his head with both hands, which was extremely painful for a moment, and psed into a pin tone again. "Please, it’s like that, isn’t it? In a minute you’re going to tell me I’ve been had."

  "I prefer a good cabaret as a source of humour, which is why I would never participate in such a sleazy charade. No, this is real and you’d better accept that as soon as possible or you won’t st long, which would be a waste of my efforts and I’d be obliged if I didn’t pull out all the stops now for nothing."

  Saunders was polite and monotone, but he didn’t mince words and, after all, Ryan was going to listen to him. "I’m doing the best I can, but how do I do it? I know something is expected of me, but I’m feeling lost right now and my head isn’t quite together."

  "I know, Lady Gardner has certainly seen to that," Saunders asserted, pausing briefly in his typing to look searchingly at his counterpart. "Your first task will be to seek out your new home. I will give you the address and Vivienne will accompany you. Whatever questions come to mind about your new life as a child of the night - I advise you to pester Vievienne. As a respected chronicler, she knows a lot anyway. To what extent she answers, of course, I cannot influence."

  "So I’m at the mercy of someone else?"

  Now Saunders formed a creepy smile on his lips. "Your first lesson, very good," he said, and already his mouth was becoming a line again. "Now I need some personal information from you before I send you and Vivienne off."

  "So here we are," Kenneth said as he brought the taxi to a halt at an extra stop ne. "That was a really pleasant ride and I almost don’t want the 42.79."

  Vivienne pushed Ryan towards the door and one by one they got out before the woman leaned into the open window with her elbows and upper body bent perhaps a little too far forward. "Here, it fits like this," she said, handing Kenneth a fifty dolr note.

  "Wow, thanks!" the taxi driver was genuinely pleased. "Maybe one day soon I will visit the museum where you are working. Then we can happily continue our conversation about your theory on the first advanced civilisations. That’s really exciting."

  "Oh ma Chérie, that’s so sweet of you," Vivienne said gently, pulling her mobile phone from inside her jacket pocket. "It’s unlikely we’ll run into each other during the day. I’m afraid I’m often terribly busy, but give me your number. You never know, we might run into each other again after you get back from the dig."

  "You think I’m in?" doubted Kenneth. It wasn’t pessimism, it was real thinking. "No, like I said. I’m sure I’d know by now if I were in."

  "Well, I can’t promise anything, but I will approach my colleague about your application. Maybe he’ll bring you to Professor Alvarado’s attention."

  "Really?! You would do that?!" asked Kenneth in amazement. The two had known each other for less than an hour when he pulled out his mobile phone and revealed his number. "I could never pay you back though. You don’t have to do that."

  "I do like to nurture promising talent, though, and I’m always curious to see how things might turn out," Vivienne smiled warmly. She put her right hand to the driver’s cheek and gave him a friendly kiss on that very skin, followed by the finest French. "Merci, et au revoir."

  For a moment Kenneth looked as if he was under the same spell that Ryan was under. That quickly subsided, however, and he seemed to have simply been taken in by the woman’s manner. "Eh, yes. A good night to you both."

  After the taxi pulled back out onto the street, into the lights-joyful night traffic, Ryan felt as if he had just stood up and he stretched instinctively. "Holy shit," it escaped him pleasantly and his block was blown away. At least as far as speaking itself was concerned. Still, he wasn’t in one hundred percent control and he had long been aware of that "You promised."

  "I did and so here we are," Vivienne replied sincerely. Although a complete stranger, she at least seemed the complete opposite of Lady Gardner and walked off with her companion. "Mind you, I think you’ve answered quite a few things for yourself by now."

  "Not a bit," Ryan shook his head. The street beside him was a long straight, in a neighbourhood full of tenements lined up end to end, though there were also front windows of shops on some ground floors. Most of them were closed at the moment, though, and Ryan saw - For Rent - notices as well, while he felt sick. "And also, I just, right-"

  Vivienne guessed what was bothering the man. "It’s your senses. They’re a lot more sensitive now."

  Ryan covered his mouth in an attempt to suppress his nausea,but it didn’t help. He yanked up the lid of the nearest bin and threw up in it. "Urgh! Disgusting!" he coughed, spitting up pure blood and no food scraps. "This pce stinks worse than any septic tank!"

  "Hey, you drunken pig!" bellowed a scowling, raspy female voice whose volume was like an overclocked sound system. "Stop puking in my barrel!"

  Ryan’s stomach settled and he took a deep breath of air through his mouth before following the sound of the voice, extremely rude to him, coming from above. "That was an accident, I’m sorry! But you don’t have to shout to burst your eardrums!"

  A woman of a good 60 or 70 had stretched her upper body out of one of the windows in the highest row of the house. "I’m about to burst something else entirely, and that’s my colr! Get off my doorstep, you scum!"

  Yes, things were often lively and verbal in Great Kingston. This was nothing new to Ryan and he would normally have become more caustic, but the promise to the dy always came into his head: behave, behave, behave. His response was appropriate, but not entirely defenseless. "There is no need to be abusive, miss. I am not so well tonight."

  "Surely a drunkard or a junkie!" the old dy accused him, and suddenly she threw down an empty milk bottle. "Get lost!"

  As unexpected as this throw was, Ryan now saw it clearly and the fall of the bottle he felt for several seconds was extremely slow, far too slow. Briefly it had something of slow motion and like a baseball pro, he caught the gss.

  The old woman lost faith before hurriedly closing her window. "I’m calling the police!"

  As Ryan put the bottle down and looked at it, Vivienne giggled. "Nice catch."

  "So it’s true?" murmured Ryan softly. "I’m a ..."

  "Now and forever," Vivienne said, coming over to the man. She gingerly took the bottle from him and threw it in the bin. "Let’s go to your ft. On the move, it’s safer to talk."

  "Safer? Who would vampires be afraid of?" asked Ryan, looking around. There were few people out and about now anyway. Besides, the pavement in front of him was perpetually bathed in shallow shadows, with streetlights set up at even intervals, illuminating a rge area with a fleeting blind spot at the edge.

  "It is the supreme w of our society not to reveal ourselves. Anyone who acts negligently and endangers our secret is punishable by death," Vivienne stated frankly, pointing over her shoulder, towards the old dy’s ft. "If people ever found out about our existence, our days would be numbered. We may be top of the food chain, but even the strongest animal is powerless against a swarm of angry insects."

  Ryan held his nose. He smelled all sorts of things, but smells he’d rather not think about dominated too much. "What has Lady Gardner done to me? Why am I like I’m on tranquillisers? Why can’t I do what I want?"

  "Blood magic," Vivienne replied, drawing an imaginary circle in the air. "Our kind are natural users of blood magic, since we can no longer avail ourselves of normal magic, and Lady Gardner is powerful. She’s practically burned a command into your head."

  "Are you kidding me? Something like mind control?"

  "Not quite. Even for extremely skilled blood mages, complete control is next to impossible. However, you can interfere with your targets, if you want to call it that, and you, as a newly born vampire, a child, were defenceless against that power anyway. However, the magic will soon disappear and you will be completely yourself, although you may then be overcome by all your fears and bad feelings."

  "Great outlook," Ryan sighed, running his hand over his mouth where he wiped blood residue from his lips and looked at it on his fingers. He was more than uncomfortable with the following question. "Do I have to kill people from now on? Or won’t they turn into vampires as well when I bite them?"

  Vivienne had clearly expected this statement and dismissed it as a joke. "That’s not how it works, hahaha," she cackled. "Humans aren’t turned by a mere bite. Before you can do that, some time will pass and then you’ll need to know how."

  "So what becomes of my victims? And don’t pointed teeth stand out over time?"

  "In this day and age there are so many, more particur personalities, it wouldn’t be a problem," Vivienne spoke unconcernedly. "Haven’t you ever seen these body artists? The ones who get painted, reshaped, teeth filed sharp and the like?"

  "I might have. It’s not really my cup of tea."

  Vivienne demonstratively made an Ah mouth and showed her incisors, which had nothing of vampire. "Biology is a wonderful thing," she said, releasing her finger with a loud plop. "We are hunters and you don’t recognise a good hunter as one. If you’re about to drink, you’ll have the tools you need."

  "You are evading my victim question ..."

  "Not so impatient, child," Vivienne rolled her eyes briefly. She had been kind so far, but everyone had their limits. "As long as the blood is chilled and fresh, you can live on preserves, but ... it’s not the same as driving your teeth into the skin and then ..."

  "... then? I’ve never done that before."

  "Don’t worry - you just have to follow the rule of secrecy. Don’t get caught out. If you drink, and believe me you will want to, it will be as if you have done it thousands of times before. It’s the purest instinct there is in this world and it may be true, blood," Vivienne pointed out clearly, pressing her lips together in demand, accompanied by a hint of arousal. "Blood is everything to you from now on. Blood is your tenderloin, your hamburger, your absolute favourite thing in the world. Once it trickles down your throat, you will never feel anything more intense in your life."

  "So I can’t eat anything else?" came Ryan’s disappointed reply. Italian pasta dishes in particur were his favourite. "No more pasta with tomato herb sauce and cream?"

  "It would be just for the taste. It won’t fill you up no matter how much you consume."

  "Phew, all the same. I die for good pasta dishes and many a morning without a Baconator from Wendy’s Breakfast, would be a horror."

  At a set of traffic lights where the light was still red,Vivienne came to a stop. "Yeah, about that morning," she admonished prudently, leaning against the traffic light post. "Never catch the sun. Don’t even put your finger in daylight in case you get curious about what would happen."

  "What would happen?"

  "For a few seconds, a trail of smoke would develop and you’d have an unpleasant tingling sensation. A second longer and you’re ash. If your whole body is bathed in sunlight, you don’t even have a second. Think of it like this: Your body is like gasoline and a tiny spark of sun is all it takes for a chain reaction."

  Ryan noted with a serious tone. "I’m not going to test it out," he indicated, joking bitterly. "So I can only live on blood now, and I’ll turn to dust in the sunlight. Please some benefits now, or I’ll just wait for the sun to rise."

  "Oh, ma cherié," Vivienne gave herself rapturously as the light turned green and she led the way, exultant. "You will never die if you do it right. Your powers can be unparalleled. I bet you could already run faster than our good Kenneth’s taxi. Walls turn to sand against your strength, or do you like Star Wars?"

  "Why the question? Do vampires get a ser sword?"

  "Better watch out," Vivienne said, pointing to an open food stall, near a bus stop.

  There was only one customer standing there right now, about to get a hot dog. Every word of conversation could be heard despite the distance. "Mustard please and don’t be stingy with it," the customer said.

  "A big blob of mustard, coming right up," the vendor promised, but something got out of hand. A veritable fountain of liquid gold burst from the dispenser and not only messed up the shop assistant’s apron.

  The customer’s jacket also became a canvas. "What are you doing! My beautiful jacket!"

  "I don’t know what’s going on!"

  Vivienne had raised her right hand and fixed it on the food stall. "Telekinesis," the woman grinned with amusement. "Not bad,is it?"

  "Yeah," Ryan admitted, though he found the action too silly. "Nice demonstration effect."

  "You would have preferred Darth Vader?" murmured Vivienne sombrely, forming a half-closed grip with the same hand.

  It was a blink of an eye, but Ryan’s throat tightened and his breath caught. "Got it!" he gasped, and was released again. "Fierce."

  "Nothing that could really hurt you. Even in your newborn state, you have immense self-healing powers," the young woman expined, wiping her hand past Ryan’s eyes. Already she had disappeared and found herself out of nowhere at the bus stop.

  Ryan hurried after her at his normal walking pace, though apparently no other person seemed to have registered this action by the woman. "What about crosses or garlic?"

  "Fictitious nonsense," Vivienne denied. As an experienced vampire, she now felt she was being made fun of. "Silver doesn’t help any more than that. At most, the cross becomes a danger if you sharpen it and ram it into your heart. That paralyses you. But you are not immortal either. Fire is our greatest enemy and if someone tears off your head, that’s it. Only extremely powerful creatures of the night survive that."

  "Dracu, for example?" immediately came to Ryan’s mind. "Or is that one fiction too?"

  "Hard to say."

  "What?"

  "Whether he still exists," Vivienne mused. It was the first time the educated and buoyant woman had radiated uncertainty. "His st sighting was in the Second World War when the vampires were fighting the Nazis and you hear rumours of his person at best."

  "No shit?" grasped Ryan’s head. Vampires against Nazis? That sounded like a Hollywood idea to him. "Vampires fought the Nazis?"

  "We did, though I must confess France had a certain charm under occupation," Vivienne mentioned, believably describing it from the point of view of someone involved. "Paris in particur. Even I couldn’t believe there was a war. It was like another world where everything was whole and everyone just wanted to live."

  Ryan still couldn’t quite believe it. "Next you’ll be telling me about Jesus."

  "One thing at a time," Vivienne replied simply. Now she looked deep into her companion’s eyes and pointed to her own. "At least you don’t have to change your eyes. That emerald green still passes for natural."

  "Yes, but why?", Ryan didn’t understand. It felt a little like he’d only been talking about trivial things so far and not the elemental events that had taken pce in the restaurant. "My eyes are like that now because Julia’s were?"

  "Like real parents. When Julia chose you, she passed something on to you."

  "Only, why did she turn me?" asked Ryan weakly. Lady Gardner’s command still held him in check, but grief did not fall under it. "I can’t really get any of this through my skull."

  "That question will occupy many tonight," Vivienne surmised, seeming interested in the solution herself. She walked a little further before stopping in front of a nondescript tenement.

  "What would the answer bring?"

  "Power," Vivienne gave significantly. "But those are more political things you shouldn’t be worrying about right now. I’ll give you that advice too, to help you get started: a lot of vampires are selfish. Everybody wants something. Don’t trust blindly and don’t give everything away."

  "Does that apply to you too, dear Vivienne?" inquired Ryan btantly. What did he have to lose if the woman’s statement was true. "Why did you stand up for me in the first pce? Apart from Mr Forkner, no one else seemed to care what was going to happen."

  Vivienne did so again. For a long time, and with an almost piercing gaze, she looked at the newborn child. "Like I said - don’t give it a thought," the woman smiled warmly, amid the cool night air. Then she was gone.

  Ryan noticed afterwards that he had something in his hand and looked at it. It was a flip-open mobile phone, which Vivienne had, by all appearances, slipped into his hand unnoticed. On the dispy was an email box, with a new inbox from Mr Saunders and reading Ryan.

  Assuming you have reached your destination, here is the information you need for now: Your ft is on the fifth floor, number 42. The ndlord has made arrangements with me before and is very discreet, but he knows nothing of the Tenebrae or your kind. You also don’t have to worry about rent for the time being and there is a windowless bedroom, suitable for your needs. I’ve also arranged for a messenger to deliver your new ID and any documents tomorrow night, along with some fresh blood and 5,000 cash. A generous gesture, from Lady Gardner.

  Repay her and the Tenebrae by internalising my directives, and this especially applies to your contacts. As of now, you are dead to your family, friends and co-workers. If you make contact with any of these people, it could end not only your own life, but also the lives of others. Remember this if you are tempted. Protect your loved ones, as well as the Tenebrae. Everyone wins but you, but you will soon have a chance at a whole new life. In this regard, I will send you new instructions in two or three days, when everything else is done and I have found an appropriate task. Until then, try to get used to the new circumstances and don’t make any trouble.

  Yours sincerely

  Mr Saunders