Blood By Moonlight: Prologue

--If you are absolutely sure and cannot consider a world within our own which acts a bit outside the laws of physics and the explanations of biology, you may not connect with this story. As a human, however, you may easily connect with the characters and situations in a metaphorical sense. If you’ve ever felt lost, found it hard to trust, or thought of yourself as an outcast, strained to take control of your own life while the world told you they knew better, were faced with odds that seemed hopeless, or had to keep a secret even from those you loved most then you will find a place in this tale.--
 

--Blood by Moonlight. Prologue--
--<~*(__)*~>--

 
         The night’s sky was enclosed in storm clouds, and the land was covered with a dreary blanket of shadows and a mist of sinister intentions. From within their cozy homes, most of the town was asleep or flipping through shopping channels in a fit of insomnia- safe from the malice that crept outside. Anyone who happened to look out their windows would gaze upon the scene in awe. It was such a beautiful night for those safe inside their homes and unefected by the danger hidden within the depths of shadows.
 
         Outside a deadly silence crept through the neighborhoods and one by one the streetlights flickered and died. A chilling breeze blew through the streets like haunting ghosts searching for souls to aid them in their lonely eternity. Down a path the cause of this evil traveled, through a gate and to a door in the blink of an eye. The lights were on inside the house; a fire was crackling in the fireplace and a book lay on the arm of the chair next to the flames.
 
         "To this threshold, I state my plea,” whispered the malevolence at the door. “Drop your barrier, so my kin I may see.” He dropped a card and slipped it under the door. From the blood drop upon the paper, black smoke arose and became a solid, flowing form which reached the locks and soundlessly rendered them useless. With no defenses on the doors and nothing to stop him from entering, the invader stepped into the house.
 
         Quickly flooding the room, his footsteps rang throughout the house. They were there to bring nothing, steal what could not be replaced, and take what would bring them victory. Up the stairs traveled the footsteps, making no attempt to deaden the sound, for the sound of death was silent until its strike. Two rooms at the top of the stairs made two victims asleep in their beds. The first door, an easy target was unlocked and opened without even the slightest creak.
 
         His eyes gazed upon the dark room; a blue glow radiated off the objects as the curtains lay open. At the bed side the footsteps stopped and a hand reached out to seize the blankets; yet this bed was empty. With a growl, the invader stormed out of the room, enraged. The room at the end of the hall had an open door, yet there was no sound from within, not even a heartbeat.
 
         “Where are they?” his cruel voice snapped. Down the stairs again, the man glared out at his best assassin, who could not enter the house and instead stood on the porch. “Don’t let them escape. I want that child- bring me the boy and kill that miserable fool!”
 
         ”Yes, my lord!” replied the assassin, bowing elegantly before he disappeared from view and left his master to brood in the abandoned home.
 

----

 
         With fear flooding their lungs and panic nipping at their heels, a father and son ran through the night. The wind whipped harshly around them in silence and tried to slow their escape, and the shadows tried to block their path by hiding tree-root snares and vine lassoes.
 
         ”Daddy!” cried the son as he fell to the ground either from exhaustion or terror. His eyes shone and threatened to cry as his father turned to look back at him.
 
         “We have to keep going, Kyle,” the father replied, gently. He pulled his son back onto his feet and held his hand tightly, even though it forced him to stoop as they began to run again. Their travel had taken them miles and still they were far from their goal. The father, who earlier that night had been a simple lawyer named Atrus Sabre, did not share the same terror as his child- who had been awoken with a hand placed over his mouth, and then pulled out of the warm home he loved, and into a car they later abandoned when the engine died.
 
         Atrus’ fear was not for his own life; he had known for a long time that this night would come. His only concern now was for the four-year-old at his side. He could see the bridge and his heart lightened; maybe they’d make it. They had to, there was no other option. Sore and frozen, Atrus pushed his body onward and pulled his son behind him. A glance back at Kyle revealed a kid strangling a teddy bear and displaying silver eyes that glittered with tears.
 
         “It hurts,” he whimpered, hugging the bear to his chest as his heart thudded so hard he was afraid it would break through his rib case. “Where we going? Why now? The sun-”
 
         “We can’t wait for the sun to wake up,” Atrus replied softly. He stood next to Kyle, and longed to carry him again, but his throbbing arms refused to return to that. His legs shook and his body collapsed into a kneeling position that was the closest he could come to standing. Why couldn’t he be stronger? Why did he have to be a lawyer instead of a marathon runner with enormous biceps who could have had the strength his son required? He sniffed back the emotion threatening to show in his face and hugged his son tightly incase a tear leaked from his own silver eyes.
 
         “Why not?” asked his son in a muffled cry. “I-… Mal’s scared.”
 
         Atrus let out a breath and could not keep the smallest of sympathetic smiles from his face. Mal was the teddy bear.
 
         “Sometimes, grown-ups, no matter how old they are, do bad and stupid things,” he began, trying to find the best way to sum up why they had been forced to leave their home in the middle of the night. “They don’t know how to handle it when they don't get what they want and will not listen when anyone tries to reason with them- no matter who it is.”
 
         The cold snow and harsh rocks seemed like welcoming pillows in their fatigue, but Atrus knew they had to keep going. He closes his eyes and lets his back rest against the tree in an attempt to catch his breath enough to force his body onward. The bridge was not too far ahead; once they crossed it they would be safer.
 
          “Come on, just a little farther,” coaxed Atrus, talking to himself as much as to his son. They stood and trudged forward, stomping the weariness from their legs. How many miles had it been? Atrus wasn’t sure anymore; all he knew was that his legs still worked and that was all he could ask of them. From exhaustion, to pain, to numbness, they traveled to the brink of their own limitations and pushed onward still.
 
         “...It’s not too much farther,” said Atrus, repeating the chant he had been telling himself for the last hour. “Not much farther and then it will be warm and safe and you can get some rest. Are you holding up okay?”
 
         “Yeah, I… I like bein' owside,” the son replies drowsily, and with a smile he deserved a puppy for. “Mal likes owside too, right? Yeah. Mal likes owside, and honey, and um… dinosaws.”
 
          Atrus snickered and turned to offer his son the warmest smile he could. When he faced forward again he could see the bridge and his heart lightened. Being out from the cover of the trees was dangerous, but there was no other choice. He felt a new kind of terror in his heart, but resolved to ignore it. There was no time or place for fear, not with his young son standing next to him; depending on him and trusting him completely. Atrus held his head up high and started across the stone bridge with a dignified and unafraid look in his eyes.
 
         Kyle was not as successful in conquering his fear and so he clutched Mal and stayed close to his father’s side. He glanced over the bridge and onto the snow filled ravine below. There was never any water in it except during the spring when the snow had melted. The bridge seemed to separate a coniferous and a vociferous forest with trees like the weeping willow, oak tree, cherry blossom tree, and globe willows lined the bank, mixing with pine trees and fir trees as they went up the hills on both sides. It was a very beautiful sight during the spring when the water ran through.
 
         Atrus stopped and Kyle became stiff as he was overwhelmed with fear. He grabbed his father’s coat and shivered. Atrus clenched his jaw and glared into the shadows.
 
         ”Don’t bother hiding,” he called, bravely. “I know you’re there.” The moonlight broke through its prison of clouds enough to shine streams of light upon the bridge.
 
         ”I’m glad,” replied a voice from the darkness. A figure came shoe first into one moonlit section of bridge, but his eyes reflected the light almost instantly, like the eyes of a wild cat. “This would be dull if you were unprepared.”
 
          “Daddy,” cringed Kyle, trembling now as the figure stepped closer and his father crouched into an attack pose. “He’s a… h-he’s...” The figure turned his gaze to Kyle, and bowed as an actor would when greeting the audience.
 
         “You’re proud of yourself,” snarled Atrus. “Sneaking around in the dark and attacking unarmed people suits you, does it? Going to attack now, or would you prefer I turned my back first?”
 
          “Actually, no,” growled the figure, with annoyance clear in his eyes and his voice. “I’d actually prefer it if you defended yourself. I like to play with my food.” He grinned, but received no rise from Atrus. “You use a sword, right?”
 
         Kyle pulled his father’s coat. They’d been running for so long, why not now? Atrus stayed his ground and caught the weapon thrown at him.
 
         ”I wonder how long you’ll last,” taunted the assassin, holding his own weapons in each hand.
 
         Kyle was pushed aside as his father leapt forward and the two combatants clashed. The swords moved faster than anything the young boy had ever seen and the sounds they made filled him with more and more horror. He had always thought that his father was the strongest and greatest dad in the world, yet Atrus was falling behind. He fenced as a hobby that connected him to his family history and now he was facing someone who only ever picked up a sword if he could kill someone. Then, suddenly, Atrus’s blade plunged forward, using his opponent’s block to his advantage. He dropped to his knee and yanked the hilt towards him, crashing the assassin’s blades against each other so their wielder’s right wrist snapped painfully. The fight had turned around.
 
         “You can’t win against a vampire!” snapped the assassin, dropping long, white fangs into view.
 
         Atrus’ gaze hardened as he swung out his fist and the assassin was forced back. “I’ve had practice,” he whispered. The assassin charged and Atrus positioned himself to block the attack… but the final blow came from someone else. Somehow, Kyle could see the attack before it arrived.
 
         "Behine you!” he screamed. His father had his full strength into parrying the vicious blow coming at him from such a high angle, even if he heard Kyle, there was no way he could look behind him without risk that the attacker would change attacks and kill him. Kyle erupted off the ground to stop what he knew was coming... but he was too late. The momentum was against his father and no matter how quickly he tried to move, the attack from the second assassin would reach him.
 
         “Time to die, mortal!” the attacker howled, his voice laced with pleasure as he raced to complete the grim strike. The spear slashed through Atrus like string through clay, and a crimson mist clouded the air. Atrus stood as if unaware of the injury. He ripped his rapier through the air, forcing the men away, and then crumbled the ground with a thud and crunch of snow.
 
         “DADDY!” the son cried out, eyes wide with terror. He jumped forward and slid on the wet ground. “Da- ugh!” The air was shoved from his lungs as the newcomer appeared before him and lifted him bodily off the ground. Kyle kicked and thrashed, but nothing he did made any impact on the man holding him.
 
         "Time to go, runt,” growled the man. “Shut up about it.”
 
         Kyle bit the man’s hand as it was shoved into his mouth, and his attacker screamed for him. With the rage and panic within him, Kyle clamped his jaw shut even tighter and ground his teeth together when he could not bite down any harder. As a result, the man threw him away and he hit the bridge to the sound of the first attacker laughing.
 
         "It’s not funny, sir,” spat the failed kidnapper. The other man continued to laugh as Kyle recovered and searched the bridge for his father. Atrus was still, but Kyle could tell he was alive- he had to be!
 
         "What did you think would happen?” the first attacker questioned, lightly. He brought his attention to the kid and intercepted him as he ran towards his father. “I apologize, but I do not wish to keep my lord waiting.” He tightened his grip as the boy fought him.
 
         ”No!” screamed Kyle, fighting to break free even as he was dragged away from his motionless father. “No, no, no! Let go!” He wanted to cry and scream for help, but every time he did so, the two men would laugh. The second man grabbed his wrist as he spun to try and attack the first, and every step they made became impossible to counter. The moon broke free of the clouds and splashed down light upon him and yet… it was too late. It had not been there when they had fled the house, nor when they ran blindly through the forest, or… or when…
 
         The murder flashed through his mind as he stared into the eyes of the men who had killed his beloved father; over and over again until he couldn’t stand it anymore. His body shook, his heart pounded and he reached the point where every bit of him had to strike out or he would die. He felt his body become hot and start to burn as he gulped in a breath and his jaw dropped to expose his own long, white fangs. Fire erupted around him and consumed the men. Kyle backed away, unable to see much, but immune to any pain as his brain focused on what was most important to him.
 
         ”Daddy?” whimpered Kyle as he stretched a trembling hand out and shook Atrus.
 
         “…Kyle…” Atrus forced his eyes open and gazed at the scene in confusion. “It’s okay,” he cooed even as the blood pooled around him. “It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt.”
 
         The lack of pain was both a blessing and a curse. It was all adrenaline that he knew would wear off and when it did, so would his ability to stay in the world his son inhabited.
 
         “Listen to me. Listen very carefully. I love you very much, but I have-“ he stopped, swallowing a mouthful of blood. “I have to leave you -“
 
         “No!” the son's shuddering voice pleaded.
 
         “I know this isn’t easy for you, but you have to run,” Atrus ordered. “Don’t let them get you, okay?”
 
         “No! I’m not leavin' you!” the son yelled, flooded with anger that he couldn't understand. He didn't understand why he was angry, but it helped to make him less sad so he gave into it. In a whisper the father spoke his son’s name, immortalizing it into his mind forever as he’d done the day of his birth.
 
          “He wins tonight, but that doesn’t mean he wins tomorrow. You have to go.” Atrus heard a groan as one of the men woke up. “Run!” he pushed his son away and barked out the order.
 
         “What about you?!” the son cried. Anger was no longer enough to cover his grief.
 
         “They can’t hurt me anymore,” the dad’s words were slow as he felt his last breath make its way up his chest. “I’m sorry,” he choked out. “B-but this is where are paths split.”
 
         “No! No, please, no. Don’t leave me! I don’t wanna to be alone, dad. Please don’t leave me!” the son whimpered. “I’m sorry for what I am! I’m sorry! I won’t let anybuddy one know, just don’t leave me!”
 
         The father took another shuddering breath, trying to force his death away just a little longer. How could he explain this to a child so young, in so little time?
 
         “Ewyone keeps leavin' me,” the son whispered. “Did I do somethin' wrong?” he cried. "Was I bad?"
 
         “ You did nothing wrong,” Atrus shoved the words from his chest and struggled to pull in another breath as his right lung caved and lis left began to flood. “I love you and I’ll a-al-always be with you as long as you remember me. Now go!”
 
         “No,” the son whispered. Yet no reply came from his father. “Dad?” he breathed. He felt a tear run down his cheek as his father slipped into death and was gone from this world. "Mal doesn’t … I don’t wanna be all alone," the son whispered, clutching his father’s shirt.

 

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Author note: This is a story I wrote years ago in junior high, yet I keep re-writing it as I learn more about creative writing. Thank you SO MUCH for taking the time to read this and I hope you enjoy the story. I've edited this multiple times and any extremely pleased by the fact that the latest reviews all seem to be personal opinions and a few missing commas. It's so easy to re-write over and over again and keep getting reviews with people saying things like "It just seems odd... fix it somehow" so I'm really happy to have reached a point where people can only comment on their own pet-peeves. Now if only the other chapters could get that way- but that'll take time as only chapter 1 has been edited much.