Chapter One

The silence was deafening.

No insects. No wind in the leaves. Not the whisper of wings in the night. Nothing.

An owl hooted.

His vacant eyes turned towards the sound, and searched the treetops. Black, soulless eyes clashed with bright yellow ones. “Find your own dinner. This one’s mine.” He dismissed the owl as of no consequence.

He was young by vampire standards. At nearly a century old, he couldn’t remember much about his previous life. He did not care to remember. His life was now. Anything before didn’t matter.

For years, he had survived off the blood of animals. Mostly goats. How he hated goat blood. When the rumors of The Chupacabra first began, he had been insulted. Goatsucker! How dare they? Then he had felt their shock, and fear. It was intoxicating. It fed him. It made him powerful. Invincible.

He fed their fear in order to feed his own growing strength. Shape shifting into a half-man, half-beast, he would allow them glimpses of him as he fed on their livestock. It was all calculated to instill fear deep into their souls.

Soon, even that was not enough.

Then, early one evening he woke to the sounds of music, and laughing. Curiosity drew him. He approached a neighboring farm to discover a dozen or so humans having a party. He could not believe the audacity. To be outside after the sun went down. Unafraid. This was his domain. He ruled the night. He had to do something. He did not dare lose his hold on these people. He truly believed he would die without their fear to feed him. He drew on their nightmares, and began to change.

His body shrunk until he stood about four feet tall. His eyes narrowed, grew longer, and glowed red. Fur and feathers sprouted in patches out of his gray skin. At the end of his short arms burst large, powerful claws, and a row of sharp spikes ran down his back and on top of his head. His legs, short and muscular, narrowed at the bottom, ending in three, clawed toes.

Boldly he approached the partiers. A woman spotted him. Her scream filled the night. It was music to his ears. Chaos ensued. Screaming. Shoving. Pushing. Mothers and fathers reached for small children. The humans trampled each other in their haste to reach the safety of the house.

The vampire stood in the midst of the confusion, intoxicated by their panic. Their fear.

An explosion rent the air. A flash of light blinded him. An unearthly scream ripped through the night when the slug slammed into his body, narrowly missing his heart. Black blood spewed from the hole. The ground sizzled and smoked where his blood landed. Plants withered and died. A woman screamed when some of his blood splattered on her face, eating away her skin. In a rage, he reached out one clawed arm, and dragged the screaming woman to him. With his other clawed hand, he twisted back her head, exposing her neck. Fangs exploded in his mouth. He sank them into her neck, and drank.

This was ambrosia.

Her warm, fear-enhanced blood swept through his body, feeding his tissues and organs. He felt himself growing stronger than ever before. His muscles worked to push the slug from his body, and the hole closed. He drained the last drop of blood, dropped the woman’s lifeless body to the ground, and slowly licked every drop from his protruding fangs.

Never again would he lower himself to drink the blood of an animal.

The owl hooted again, and flew to another tree.

Two miles away, a dog’s ears twitched. The dog stopped, stuck its nose in the air, and sniffed. He growled deep in his throat acknowledging the owl, and continued in the same direction. He had to move slowly, picking a path through the dense brush that his human companions could follow.

The owl settled in the tree, and watched the scene below.

The child lay on a flat rock, surrounded by trees - a sacrificial lamb. The vampire tenderly rearranged her clothing. He made her more comfortable.

He spoke one word. “Wake.” His voice was velvet seduction.

The girl opened her eyes, and stared at the man. Her mind began to scream but no sound escaped her mouth. Fresh tears ran down her cheeks, and mingled with dried tears and dust. She began to sob silently. Her mind struggled to break free of the invisible chains that held it, and her body, prisoner.

The vampire ran his tongue along his teeth. His smile widened. His canines grew.

“Don’t cry little one,” he whispered. His voice was soft, compelling. The girl’s sobs lessened, and then stopped completely. Still the child’s mind screamed in terror. The vampire took a step towards her, then another. With each step closer, his canines grew longer. His tongue reached out, and touched the tip of one long tooth, licking the cloudy liquid that dripped from it. “It will only hurt for a moment. I promise.” He crooned, his voice hypnotic.

The owl mentally blinked.

The child stared at the vampire in silence, unable to break free. Her eyes were two, unseeing saucers, in her small, pale face. She was staring at the vampire, but she wasn’t seeing him. She could not have been more than five or six, but her mind was busy trying to find a way to break free of the vampire’s thrall before it was too late.

It was too late for her father.

The memory of watching as the vampire forced her father to him, helpless as the monster fed on him until there was nothing left, had her silently screaming again. She had tried to call out to her father, to wake him from the vampire’s spell, but her voice was silent. Her pleas never reached him. They were swallowed by something dark and dangerous. Something she had led to them.

Her whole world had gone black, and she awoke here. In this time and place.

The child never moved a muscle as the vampire reached out, and lovingly caressed her hair. Gently he pushed it back from her face. He tilted her neck slightly, and stared with hunger at the small pulse beating there. He could smell the blood coursing through her veins. The beating of her heart pounded in his ears. Her silent screams roared in his mind. He had been dreaming of this moment since he had first heard that quiet voice whispering across the wind searching for someone like herself. Her power had drawn him like a beacon in the night.

He leaned towards the small, pulsating vein. His mouth opened wider. His teeth dripped. Slowly his tongue traveled the length of the slender vein, savoring the taste of her fear.

The owl shrieked.

The vampire jumped back from the child. Instinctively he threw his arms up to protect his face. A razor-sharp beak tore hunks of flesh from his arm. He howled in rage. His body began to shimmer. Before he could shape-shift, the owl struck again. There was a blur of feathers and blood. His blood. The owl struck relentlessly, heedless of the foul blood that covered its feathers. It avoided the vampire’s counter attacks with ease.

Suddenly, it stopped.

A snarl came from behind. The vampire spun around to face this new danger. He did not realize his mistake until it was too late.

A fully-grown wolf leapt at his exposed throat, clamping its teeth down in a vise-like grip. The two bodies hit the ground together. The vampire was frantic. Nothing had challenged him in his short life. He clawed viciously at the wolf. The wolf held tight, ignoring the blood trickling from the wounds on its side, and covering its white coat. It never loosened its grip on the vampire’s throat.

The vampire’s body went limp. Still the wolf kept its hold. Not until the vampire’s head rolled back, nearly severed from its body, did the wolf loosen its hold. The wolf wasn’t finished. It clamped its teeth in what was left of the vampire’s throat, and chewed completely through.

The vampire’s head rolled to the side of its body. Energy sizzled in the air. Then both head and body burst into a cloud of dust, and drifted harmlessly to the ground.

The wolf lay on the ground panting. Its body shimmered for a moment, and then changed.

Clad in a cotton shirt, blue jeans, and running shoes, Jade rose from the ground. She took a minute to listen to the familiar sounds of the jungle. The wind once again, whispered in the trees. A million insects began to buzz. A mouse scurried through the dried grass. The jungle had already begun to reclaim itself from the vile touch of the undead.

A rustle in the jungle about a half-mile away signaled the approach of the search party.

There were no silent screams. No silent pleas for help.

Jade slapped at a mosquito that thought she might provide its dinner, and limped over to the rock, one hand pressed against the wound in her side. The child lay on the stone alter, her eyes closed. If it were not for the slow, steady heartbeat, and the shallow breathing, Jade would think she had died.

Jade spoke softly, but the child didn’t respond.

Tears swam in amber eyes, but Jade refused to allow them to escape.

“It’s over honey,” she whispered. “It’s time to come back.” She continued to talk soothingly to the child, as she gathered her into her arms and went to meet the search party.

It was time to go home.

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