2001, 19th May

Seattle, The United States of America

Lucia peeled herself out of bed before the sun peeked over the horizon.

Discipline had been drilled into her as a child. Perfection was expectation for their family.

She had given up complaints about the hypocrisy of it all sometime before her tenth birthday. It was easier to go with the flow.

Her morning jog and bath over with, she made her way into the dining room.

The dining room was far too big for just her and her mother, the two of them and no one else. Thinking about it, she felt that way about most of the rooms in this house. She couldn't wait till she was at school.

Lucia smirked.

"What's the joke?" Veronica Bellone looked at her daughter over her plate.

"Nothing."

Mother and daughter subsided into silence once more.

This was how the Bellone family lived. No arguments, no loud disagreements, just... silence.

Lucia was still getting used to being more comfortable at school than home.

Her mother insisted on a public school education. Something about building character.

Lucia had no problems acing her classes.

She had no problems socialising, and she could fit in almost anywhere.

But she really felt nothing for any of them at all.

It was inexplicable, the way two minutes of observation could give her all the insight she would ever need on a person.

Put simply, people simply weren’t very interesting.

That had all changed when she met Michael Kane.

She had heard of Michael before this, of course. Middling academic progress, remarkably poor attendance, a hero among his fellow students, and perpetual problem child to the staff. There were even rumours of run-ins with the law, though Lucia was pretty sure that was mere exaggeration.

Michael's personality was best described as forceful.

Well, perhaps that was too mild a word.

Perhaps arrogant blowhard would be a more fitting descriptor.

It was inexplicable to Lucia why anyone should stand to be around such a person.

But here she was today, looking forward to school when only a while ago, she could stand neither the place nor those that populated it.

She arrived to find a totaled Mercedes at the parking lot.

Professor Dawkins' midlife crisis vehicle, as the girls that surrounded her had taken to calling it.

Dawkins himself was yelling himself hoarse at the assembling students, hands wildly flailing to gesture to the wreckage of his precious vehicle.

That was when she had felt an insistent nudge at her elbow.

She turned, signature glare already fixed in place and a cutting remark on the tip of her tongue to assail whichever poor sap had dared intrude on her personal space.

It was Michael.

"Bellone. Cause a scene. Now."

"Excuse me, what-"

"Excellent, just like that!"

And he pushed a hapless bystander into the group of girls that had been gathering around Lucia.

They began to tear into the boy for no fault of his own, as Michael began to drift away from them. Lucia frowned at him, and he shot her a wink.

The cacophony the girls had kicked up was enough to completely drown Dawkins out. The crowd and the apoplectic professor himself had their attention arrested by the crowd.

Lucia covered up a forming grin as she watched Magnus drop a pair of keys into the car through one of the shattered windows. She shook her head and made her way inside.

Magnus was yet another unlikely friend she had made.

He was Michael's friend originally, although a more unlikely pair was rarely seen.

Magnus was quiet. Reserved. He was probably the best athlete across the schools of Seattle, but teamwork was never his strong suit.

Michael seemed to be the only one who could drag entire sentences out of him.

And drag him into harebrained schemes, apparently.

Lucia took her usual seat by the window, and swept her long, dark hair back to tie it.

Michael dragged his own desk around in front of her and plopped himself down on it.

"So...about the Mercedes." Lucia began.

Michael laughed uproariously.

"I needed to learn to drive. You didn't expect me to settle for my parents' Ford, did you?"

"Most sane people would, actually. How did you get the keys?"

"Took them from the staff room. Can you believe they just leave those unlocked?"

"I can, actually. You know you can't hide this stunt from them forever, right?"

Michael's smile dropped an inch.

"Yes, well... I suppose that won't matter for very long."

At that moment, Magnus took his own seat at their side. He nodded at Lucia, his customary form of greeting, then gestured at Michael.

"His parents are getting a transfer. Los Angeles, apparently."

Lucia leaned back in her own chair, looking out over the courtyard. The Tyndall pattern the sun formed through the canopy was eye catching on a well lit day like that.

"Hey, no need for all that. We'll keep in touch, right? You'll still have Magnus here to keep you company too. It won't be all that bad." Michael said.

Magnus only shook his head and snorted as if to a joke only he was privy to.

Dawkins stormed in at that moment, clearly still apoplectic from the incident of the morning.

There was nothing more to be said.

2006, 8th January

Paris, France

"So that photograph on the mantel is the three of you when you were kids?"

Aimee Richards inspected the photograph in question, encased in a silver frame with floral patterns carved on the edges.

Lucia inspected her black silk sheath dress in the mirror. She could never tell what warranted the outrageous price tags on these things.

She wouldn't even have known the prices were out of the pale when she still lived with her mother. In that way, attending Law School in Paris had helped her gain some perspective.

"I told you, I don't like talking about it." She frowned at her roommate, who hadn't given up perusal of the photograph.

"Because of the car crash the next day, right? Michael or his family didn't survive."

"Are we still talking about this? Just because you're a psychiatry student doesn't mean you have to test yourself on me."

"Alright. I was just trying to take your mind off things. You've been sore about the fundraiser all week."

"It's my family fundraiser, so I get to schmooze with all my father's associates. Why wouldn't I be looking forward to it?"

"You tell me."

Lucia let the dress drop to the floor and turned to Aimee with an exasperated sigh.

"Don't. I don't want to talk about this."

Her roommate just shrugged and looked back to the photograph. "The blonde kid is Magnus, right? What, was he on all the steroids in the world? Look at the fucking size of him."

“Hmm. Danish.”

“And this other kid, the scrawny brown one. That’s Michael?”

“What do you mean, scrawny? He was perfectly average.”

“I guess anyone would look scrawny next to this behemoth.”

“Could you stop creeping on my friend’s photo? Of when he was a child no less? Makes me feel weird.”

“I’m hardly creeping on him. And he’s your friend? Have you even kept in touch with the guy?”

Lucia fiddled with her hair some more, before deciding leaving it loose was the perfect decision.

She had already expended more effort than she wished to on an event she didn’t want to be part of in the first place.

“We… kind of fell out of touch. Nothing really happened, it was just…”

“After Michael.”

“After Michael.”

“So, he was just the kind of friend of convenience you hang around with when you’re with your actual friends.”

“That’s not the kind of thing you say out loud, Aimee.”

Satisfied all necessary preparations had been made, Lucia fell back onto the bed with a thump. She no longer wanted to continue this line of conversation, which she made abundantly clear by turning on her side.

Two hours to go before that event she didn’t really want any part of.

Maybe she would even see that man there.

Lucia could count on one hand the number of times she had seen her father in her lifetime.

She had heard the explanations from her mother all her life. About how her father’s work kept him away.

She had never been interested in excuses made on his behalf. Slowly, her interest in his existence had waned altogether.

She let the two hours slip away in a haze.

Lucia gazed over the waters of the river Seine, breathing in a lungful of air before finally heading down the street of La Defense.

The venue itself was fairly crowded. She pushed her way through the faceless suits, determined to make an early entry.

People who were fashionably late to gatherings were intentionally loud as well, drawing the most eyeballs to themselves when the crowd had already formed.

So conversely, Lucia, who wished no lasting attention from any of the people gathered here, would have to slip in early, discreet.

Fifteen minutes into the proceedings had already felt like decades.

She had lost track of how many faceless suits she had shook hands and exchanged meaningless pleasantries.

“Those facial muscles must be getting a real workout, eh?”

Lucia turned to face a taller man in a black bespoke suit that had appeared at her elbow. He offered her his hand.

When she grasped his hand, he brought it to his lips.

Lucia noticed how cold the man’s skin felt.

“Your name, sir?”

“James Kirkman. Not sir, not anything that important. I know who you are, of course.”

“You do? Then I’m at a disadvantage.”

“We’ll correct that, then.”

James smoothly snatched a wine glass off a passing tray, then handed it to Lucia, who wordlessly sipped at it, waiting for him to elaborate.

“I work for your father. I suppose I work for you by extension. He’s asked to see you tonight.”

Lucia stiffened.

“And what makes you think I want to see him?”

James shrugged. “Not many people around here refuse your father. But I won’t press. I suspect he’ll find you on his own later, if the need’s pressing enough.”

“Not afraid of losing your job after failing to bring me to him.”

James raised his hands. “Hey, your dad’s an asshole. I get it, yeah? And don’t worry about my job. I’m fine where I am.”

Lucia finished off her drink. “I can already tell you’re employee of the year material. What do you do for him anyway.”

“A man in your father’s line of work has many problems. I fix them for him. I have talents in many avenues.”

“And modesty by the pile, I see.”

James pulled back his upper lip. “It never does to hide your light under a bushel. Unless of course, the job at hand requires it.”

Lucia noted how sharp his teeth seemed.

An hour or more had passed. James refused to leave Lucia’s side. The conversation had long since tapered off, but he showed no signs of leaving.

Her father hadn’t shown up either, not even to his own event.

“How fucking predictable.”

James looked up at her side. “Pardon?”

“I need to be going now. I’ve stayed long enough to more than fulfil any obligations I may have had.”

“Obligations? This whole night is about you, Ms. Bellone.”

“What?”

“But you are right in the fact that it is time for us to be leaving.”

Lucia felt a little light headed now.

Her extremities ever so slightly colder than they were before.

Her legs began to carry her in a direction she didn’t want to go to.

She should feel panic right now.

But somehow wasn’t able to muster the energy for even that.

The voices around her felt like she was hearing them underwater.

She felt James’ hand firmly clasping her shoulder.

She heard him making excuses to the other partygoers as he steered her where he wanted to take her.

Panic began to sprout in her chest, but the rest of her refused to obey.

Had he slipped something in her drink?

She had always been careful about that sort of thing.

Her mind idly pondered how she had never before noticed how empty the streets of La Defense could seem, this late in the night.

“Your father wishes to see you.”

These words, spoken by James once more.

Lucia wished she could tell him where both him and her father could stuff what they wished.

She couldn’t, of course.

She felt her legs carry her into a black SUV with tinted windows. James followed her in. She couldn’t quite make out the face of their driver.

He must have said something to the driver, the way the car shot off with no prompt, but Lucia didn’t hear a thing.

For all that she tried to focus on the streets the vehicle zoomed by, the scenery was no more than a blur.

Until the vehicle screeched to a halt.

They had arrived.

The estate they had parked in front of was nothing truly exceptional.

Large, certainly, but considering their familial wealth, nothing special.

Lucia idly noted that this couldn’t be her father’s permanent residence, then filed that bit of information away in the back of her mind.

The street lights burned on, futilely, it seemed, considering the thick shadows obscuring the street.

Dread coiled around her gut as she stepped out in the night air.

Against her every instinct, her treacherous feet continued to carry her forward into the shadows.

She was going to see her father.

So why did it feel like she was going to face her death?

James took a step in front of her, then threw open the door.

The cold seemed to chill her to the bone.

The very light seemed to die as she stepped into the chambers where her father awaited.

She should have no idea where to her place her feet, but somehow, her footsteps fell truly.

And then they were there.

As was he.

Lionel Bellone sat in the sole spot of illumination within the chamber, encircled by shadow, as if light itself shied away from touching him.

“Lucia.”

A word he had last used so many years ago.

One of the only words he had used all those years ago.

His tone was authoritative, as always.

Brooking no disobedience.

No rebellion.

Lucia had rebellion, bone deep within her- or so she liked to believe.

Amplified even further by the thought of her father.

But that one word brushed all those thoughts away.

She looked up to meet his eyes, and found nothing but contempt.

He rose to his feet, and approached them.

No warmth ever touched his eyes.

“The scion of my blood. This is my promised future.”

He seemed to spit his next words out like he had tasted something foul.

“Nothing but a mewling child lacking any spine. She cannot even hold my gaze.”

“If I may, Sir, she-”

Crack.

Lucia flinched away as Lionel’s right hand flickered, and James was thrown back into the shadows.

She heard a groan from beside her, but she couldn’t move her gaze from the man in front of her.

“Is that all it takes to unnerve you?”

Lionel sneered at his daughter.

“I wonder about you being one of my blood.”

And the spark in Lucia reignited.

“Well, that makes two of us, asshole.”

And she rammed her forehead in his nose.

Recoiling, she saw the gleam of the man’s teeth.

Laughing, unharmed.

“So some of my blood shows after all.”

James had picked himself back up to his feet at this point.

Lionel gestured at him wordlessly, never taking his eyes off his daughter, and the man slinked away into the shadows.

As soon as they were left alone, he continued to speak.

“You’re still a mere fraction of what you should be. Woefully unprepared and incomplete. But it’s time to dive in the deep end. You’ll sink or you’ll swim."

Lucia’s cutting retort died at the tip of her tongue as the very shadows seemed to writhe around them with a life of their own, her attention suitably diverted until she felt ice cold fingers on her neck, pushing back her hair, and saw Lionel lean in, unnaturally sharp teeth glinting in the little light available in the chamber.

She felt sharp pinpricks on her neck, more startling than painful.

She felt a haze of anger, confusion, terror and disgust.

Then she felt those sensations die, smothered by bliss.

Some primal part of her screamed in her head that it was a lie, but surrendering felt like a relief, like all the pain and fear would be gone forever, locked in that moment in time.

Her extremities grew extremely cold as feeling fled from her fingers.

Her vision blurred.

Lucia had never fallen unconscious before.

Her final thought had been that it was remarkably similar to falling asleep.

And deprived of the lifeblood in her body, in that cold manor engulfed in shadow, Lucia Bellone breathed her last.

Something warm.

Something wet.

Something rich and sweeter than distilled pleasure.

And then gone.

Snatched away.

Need more.

Must have more.

Lucia rose with a dreadfully ravenous snarl.

She could smell it still, on the air.

Thump, thump.

A sound filled with inexplicable promise.

Fangs- not teeth, fangs, bared, drool nearly running down her lower lip, tasting the air, a growl trapped behind her throat.

Getting closer now.

Terrified little gasps giving away the prey.

So close now.

There-on the bed- too dark to see properly, but she saw the prey all the same.

And lunged.

Carried by instinct, her fangs found the warm flesh of her victim’s throat.

And there it was again, the nectar, flavour releasing a dopamine rush in her brain.

She did not stop, even as the whimpering under her turned to moans, then to silence.

She did not stop, as the scratching at her back turned to insistent tugs, until finally falling limp to her sides.

But then her prey went dry, and Lucia surfaced to look into the glassy eyes of Aimee Richards staring back at her.

Revulsion rose in her throat and the taste of blood came flooding back.

Turning to the side of the bed, she vomited dribbles of black ichor.

After she had heaved a few more dry retches, a voice spoke up from a darkened corner in an indifferent tone.

“Keep that blood inside yourself, will you? Lord knows you’ll need it.”

Lucia whirled around to see James sat in a corner.

She couldn’t think of anything to say.

James sighed, pressing two fingers over the bridge of his nose.

“Just your average rebellious teenager… Hard to believe you’re that monster’s offspring.”

He looked up at her.

“Hard to believe you were selected for this gift.”

The utter inanity of this statement snapped her back to her senses.

“What… What the hell…?”

She made the mistake of turning her head to Aimee’s savaged body and flinched away.

James scoffed at her.

“You’re dead now, girl. You need to fill that endless hunger with life. And it doesn’t get much closer to life than blood, does it. If you want a more scientific explanation, you'll have to ask elsewhere.”

Lucia shook her head.

She felt unsteady on her feet, the ground slipping away.

She would really like to reject the reality of the situation she found herself in, but Aimee’s lifeless eyes looking up at her, and the intoxicating scent of blood in the air anchored her senses in the moment.

James continued to speak.

“Ordinarily, killing while feeding is a major faux pas, but I personally know how hard it is to pull away on your first taste of the blood. Conveniently, your roommate was easy enough to pick off the street. Now with the both of you gone, it’s conveniently explained away-”

Lucia’s awareness had drifted away halfway through, only coming back to catch the end of James’ sentence.

“-kids took off on a trip round the world, lovers eloped, whatever. Point is, no one's looking for you.

Julia slumped to the floor, thoroughly worn out.

Contempt flashed across James' face, before he schooled it into a neutral mask.

“Best get used to this quickly, girl, because this is the rest of your life. And depending on how you play your cards, it might be quite a long life.”