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The streets echoed with the cries of the pained civilians. It was never peaceful. Many of the people either contracted the deadly virus going around and was hoping their loved ones made it back from the Great War. London was never as peaceful as it was before the war. He doubted it would ever be as peaceful again.
Dwight was a journalist, he wasn't native to the city. He arrived from the Americas, shortly before the war broke out. He was native to Ohio, the state in which nothing interesting ever happened. London was definitely different in that department. All its inhabitants came from different backgrounds besides just farmers. Though Dwight was never one to socialize, so this didn't impact him much.
He wasn't there to report on the virus or the impact of the war. No, he was there to report on the mysterious murders that had been going on all over London. All the victims had been drained of blood as if leeches had been draining them. They called whoever the murder was, "The Leech," and Dwight had to agree that it was a fitting name. Though, many of the natives called them vampires, like from mythology.
Dwight hurried down the streets of the city. He had not wanted to be kept out after dark. The person from whom he buys most of his food had decided to have dinner with him. Not that he didn't enjoy it, but he didn't want to risk his life over a few slices of pie.
Dwight wasn't really afraid of the dark, it's what lurks in it that scares him. The murders had all occurred near this part of the city, and all at night. He wasn't exactly too keen on getting murdered by The Leech. He heard the sounds of footsteps behind him. He quickly turned, but all he saw was a shadow. He felt cold hands grip his exposed neck, and pull him back. He felt something puncture his neck, and slowly drifted unconscious.
•••
He slowly opened his eyes, a candle not far from his eyes blinding him. He pulled himself into a sitting position and looked around. What had happened, and where was he? He got up and noticed his garments had been replaced. He seemed to be wearing sleep clothes. He wasn't exactly in the right mind to question it at the moment. He opened one of the draws and inside was a knife, perhaps he could arm himself with it. He noticed the room has a window, and curtains were drawn across it, blocking the sunlight. He began to open it.
He heard the sound of heavy footsteps on wood approaching the room. He grabbed the knife in his pocket, he most definitely wasn't going to go out without fighting this time. He saw a man slightly taller than he was open the door. The man's attention was immediately on the window and closed the curtains, "What are you thinking?" The man hissed. Dwight was surprised by the sudden movement and had fallen to the floor.
"W-What do you mean? It's just an open window," Dwight spoke hesitantly. The man shook his head, looking down at the ground. If Dwight was being honest, he was fucking terrified. He just happened to wake up here after being attacked by 'The Leech'. Most likely not a coincidence.
"Are...you the killer? The Leech?" Dwight asked. The man gave a deep chuckle, it sent shivers up Dwight's spine.
"Yes and no," He said, to Dwight's confusion. The man paused, "Do you have a name?" Dwight of course had a name, but he knew the man was asking for it.
"Dwight," He offered. He wasn't exactly sure that giving him his name was a good idea, especially if he was indeed the murder. It wasn't exactly uncommon for killers to read papers about themselves. He feared he would recognize his name. Though, the man just smiled a smile that made Dwight flinch.
"Jake Park is mine," Jake said, offering a hand, "Let's get out of this room, it's odd having a stranger in my bed," Dwight's face flushed at the choice of words. Jake laughed at his reaction.
"Come, I'll explain why you're here later," Jake said, leaving the room. Dwight followed him, fidgeting with the bottom of his shirt. Jake kept looking back at him, "I understand your confusion, but please understand that I'm not a threat," Dwight wasn't stupid, he wasn't going to feel safe out of words.
They entered what seemed to be a living room, which was spacious. It had three couches, and on those couches sat an unfamiliar face. Dwight turned to Jake.
"Well, seems Michael is the only one here. Weird for Danny to be out during the day," Jake turned to Dwight," This is Michael," He motioned towards the man. Michael was pale, and his eyes seemed to lack any color at all, they were black voids. It was unsettling, to say the least. "Michael was the one who found you, he brought you in before the sun came up of course," Dwight didn't see how the sun would be an issue, but he nodded anyway.
"Thank you," Dwight said as he nodded at Michael, who gave a deep huff before turning away.
"Michael...doesn't really talk much. Don't worry, most of us do," Dwight still didn't understand whom he was referring too. Jake seemed to catch this, "You...your freshly turned aren't you," This seemed to catch Michael's attention. He turned towards them.
"I don't understand what you mean...What any of this means," Dwight was so frustrated at his own confusion, and tears began to well in the corners of his eyes. Jake frowned.
"This is going to take a while to explain, please sit down," Jake spoke as he sat down on the couch, and gently pat the empty spot next to him. Dwight sat down and crossed his legs.
"We're...you are a vampire. The Leech your trying to catch is, well, a binge-drinker," Jake paused before resuming, "A binge-drinker is a vampire who hunts for sport. Most of us only drink when our thirst becomes unbearable, even then we don't drink enough to kill," Dwight was still, no, he couldn't be a vampire. He had to work, he had to prove moving to London wasn't a mistake. How could he go back to the Americas to visit his family. Dwight felt nauseous.
Jake spoke softly, "Calm down, I know it's a lot to process. I'll explain more when you're ready," Dwight nodded mutely.
"Michael, go see if we have blood bags in storage? If he is freshly turned he will need blood to keep his strength up," Jake ordered. Michael got up and left the room, leaving the door open behind him. The storage seemed to be what Dwight considered a pantry, or at least, it seemed to be in the kitchen.
"You...can explain more. I'm ready," Dwight said, trying his hardest to keep his voice from shaking. Regardless of his shaky voice, Jake nodded.
"Well...besides the drinking blood. We can't go into the sun without burning. Christian symbols of faith seem to hurt us, I'm not entirely sure why they do. Also, you can teleport short distances, which is cool. I wouldn't recommend trying it for a while, your body needs to adjust first." This hurt Dwight's head, so much information. He needed to go to work obviously, but he couldn't do that during the day. Though, it's not like he had to work for food now. Since food now just walked the streets. Dwight wasn't entirely sure he could actually drink from someone, he felt sick just thinking about it. Maybe, he could live off Jake's blood packs. Though, he didn't want to burden him.
"Do you by chance know the person who changed you?" Jake asked, and Dwight shook his head, "Odd, most people don't just turn random civilians. My bet would be Danny. The asshole probably did it without realizing it. Might also explain why he's not here." Jake said, his voice full of bitterness. Dwight heard him mention the man earlier, and he personally wasn't too keen on meeting him. Though, he was curious as to why he of all people was turned.
Michael came in a blood pack in hand. Dwight doesn't know how to explain it, but he could smell the blood itself. An instinct in him told him to drink, and it was almost overwhelming. He felt his fangs extract, that he didn't even know were there. Michael handed the pack to Dwight. Without even processing why, he stuck his fangs into the pack, puncturing the plastic and reaching the crimson plasma. It was odd, it was thicker than any drink he has had before, but it was extremely pleasant. Within seconds, Dwight had drained the pack clean. Jake watched him, an amused expression on his face.
"It's like an instinct, even newborns know how to drink." Dwight didn't know how to feel about being called a newborn, "I might have a change of clothes instead of the pajamas, come." Jake motioned for Dwight to follow him. Without thought, he followed him, not letting his eyes off Jake for even a second.
"We're out of rooms, so you'll probably stay in Felix's until he gets back," Dwight found it safe to assume Felix was out in the war, most men were. He hadn't met the requirements, his anxiety had made him almost immediately turned down. Not that he wanted to go to war of course. Jake opened the door to the room, it was only a bed and an almost empty drawer. The bed was also only a single blanket, a thin one at that. Jake frowned.
"We'll need to probably fix the room up, it's like we sleep long anyways," Jake shook his head, and Dwight gave a toothy forced smile. Jake looked at him and returned it.
"Don't worry, I'll get this done within the hour. How about you explore the house," Jake offered. Dwight was curious as to how many people actually stayed in the house, and exploring would give him that answer without asking.
Dwight wandered down the hall, it seemed to be underground, which was abnormal. The rooms lacked windows, unlike the one he woke up in. Dwight peeked in one of the rooms randomly and froze. The walls were littered with photos of various drained humans. Next to each victim, was a man in a black hood posing next to them. It made Dwight revolted but also filled him with indescribable rage. He looked at the nameplate, Danny, and for some reason, he didn't even feel surprised. This might be the binge-eater or at least an enthusiastic killer. Regardless, he recognized some of the victims, and he could tell some of these photos were recent. Dwight closed the door, fearful for what the man would do if he found him lurking there.
Dwight went from room to room, most of them were empty. One with the nameplate David had workout equipment, and Michael's had only a mattress, no blankets even. There seemed to only be about five people living here, that was including himself. Though Dwight was reluctant to say he lived here, it was doubtful he would be able to go home and continue life as usual. Dwight was a little off-put by how quickly he accepted his situation.
It wasn't long before Jake found him, "I wouldn't snoop around there rooms. Bed Rooms are considered private, are they not?" Jake spoke as he led him back to Dwight's own room. Or at least a temporary room," Felix should be back in about two weeks, until then you can stay here," Jake opened the door to the room. The bed now had clean grey sheets, and on top of the dresser were clean clothes that seemed to be around his size. Dwight was impressed by how quickly Jake had done this.
"Thank you," Dwight smiled, and Jake seemed slightly embarrassed, as if not used to praise. Jake mouthed something similar to 'welcome'.