The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

It's taken me this long to realize the formatting is totally fucked up. My appologies. I would also like to point out that El and Li and the rest of their race were formerly called vampires. I've changed my mind. They're now Diabhal, which is the irish Gaelic word for devil. Or so says google. I've written a whole history for the race. I'll eventually get it typed, but i REALLY hate typing. That's why the last post was in November of last year.









“What time is it?” she asked.

“Ah… quarter past three.”

“Can we go back to bed?”

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

“I’m sorry. For freaking out like that.”

“Sorry for scaring you.” he chuckled.

They got up and walked to the bedroom, and Gabriel climbed into the bed first. She crawled under the covers, pressing her back into his chest. His arms wrapped around her again, and he brought his knees up to fit against hers. Slowly, she drifted back to sleep. Just before dreams claimed her, Gabriel whispered five words.

“I think I like you.”

And then she was gone.



* * *

An alarm was going off somewhere. Melenie sat up, Gabriel’s arms falling limply onto the bed beside her, and looked at the clock on the bedside table. 5:30 a.m. His phone had the message ‘Wake-up Alarm’ on the screen.

“Gabriel?” she whispered.

She put her hand on his biceps, rubbing back and forth.

“Gabriel? You have to wake up.”

He groaned and rolled over. A hand shot out to silence the alarm.

“I hate my job.” he grumbled, his voice gravelly with sleep.

Tossing the sheets back, he got up and walked to his closet.

“What’s today?” he asked.

“Tuesday.”

He rifled through the mesh and leather, finally pulling out a cobalt blue ‘Sally’s’ shirt. He pulled the mesh top he was wearing up over his head, displaying a beautiful stomach, and then tugged the T-shirt on. Reaching back into the closet, he pulled out a pair of blue jeans.

“I… ah, I’ll be right back.”

He walked out the door, probably headed for the bathroom. She looked down at herself. She’d been wearing those clothes for way too long. Then again… was it really only yesterday morning that she’d gotten up and put them on? It felt longer. She walked over to his closet and shuffled through his shirts. He only had about a half dozen of the mesh and leather numbers, all in an XL, and one more cobalt blue polo hidden in the back. She didn’t want to wear his clean work uniform, so she settled for a mostly leather long-sleeve. The few mesh patches wouldn’t be too revealing, and, as with all of his shirts, it would probably be long enough that she wouldn’t have to borrow any pants. Given how poorly the shirts fit, that would have been a nightmare. She pulled the leather monstrosity over her head and worked her arms out of her own shirt, then pulled it through the collar of Gabriel’s. Next, she found the sleeves and pushed her arms in, rolling them up to her wrists. The hem came to just above her knees. She pulled her skirt off under the shirt. Looking over to the mirror on the wall, she laughed. Her suitcase, full of her clothes, was on the floor, half covered by a blanket that had been thrown off of the bed. Oh, well. She thought Gabriel might like it when he saw her in his clothes. Male dominancy or some shit.

She walked into the hallway, closed the door behind her, and made her way through the living room to the kitchen. She was going to make breakfast for him. Pancakes. After living on the things for the past couple of years, she could almost do it with her eyes closed, and in no time, she had butter sizzling in a large pan, and a bowl of batter held tight in the crook of her elbow while she whisked the shit out of the stuff. Adding a pinch of cinnamon for the finishing touch, and she poured the first pancake into the pan.

“Are you cooking?” Gabriel asked.

His voice was still that gravelly purr.

“Yeah. You like pancakes?”

“Love ‘em.”

“Good. It’s my own recipe.”

“Cool.” Suddenly he laughed, a deep, 100% male chuckle. “Is that my shirt?”

“You mind?”

“I like you in that. Didn’t you bring your own clothes?”

“I kind of forgot about them.”

“Do me a favor? Don’t remember for a while.”

She giggled insanely before replying in the manner that if he wanted, she would forget clothes existed. The fierce sense of victory that came over her when he blushed and looked away was a surprise. She dished out a plate of pancakes, and put the plate on the counter for him.

“Thanks.” he said. “I don’t usually get to eat before I go to work in the morning.”

“No problem. If you still want to live together, I can do this all the time for you.”

“I still want you to move in. By the way, these are amazing.”

“Good, on both accounts. I’ve already informed my landlord that he can fuck himself from now on, because I’m not going back there. Ever.

She watched with satisfaction as he bolted the pancakes. When he finished, he got up and walked over to the door, ramming he feet into his combat boots.

“Hey, I’m not a live-in maid, so unless you want it to stay there, you should take care of that plate. And won’t Sally be a little peeved if you go down there with your hair spiked?”

“Probably. I’m going to be late.”

He rushed to the counter with his plate anyways, put it in the sink, and ran some water over it before darting back over to the door.

“You going to be here when I get off?”

“I should be coming. Sorry. That was wrong.”

“Yeah. A little.”

“I should be here. If your room is clean when you get back, it’s because I got bored.”

“Alright. Good. See you.”

When the door was shut behind him, she looked around the room. The apartment obviously hadn’t been cleaned in a while. There were stains scattered across the carpet, the windows were covered in a nearly opaque layer of grime, and the whole place smelled like stale beer.

“I should have asked him where the cleaning stuff is. Whatever.”

After a bit of digging, she managed to come up with a washcloth and multi-surface cleaner, as well as a vacuum, and she set to work on the living room.



* * *



Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Oh, Melenie. Your rent is due today.”

As Mr. Darber chuckled, the motion of his enormous gut gave a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘rolling with laughter.’ His stubby little cock was already hard and throbbing in anticipation of Melenie’s ‘late fee.’ She barely managed to pay rent before, owing him a little extra every couple of months, but now that he’d had to raise the price? She’d never be able to afford it. Tenants who couldn’t pay had two options, if they were chicks, and they looked good. His favorite way to forget about money owed was to fuck them until he felt the debt had been paid. Services rendered. The other was to take something from them, and to slowly break it apart and send them the pieces. He knocked on the door again.

“Melenie. I know you’re in there.”

When there was still no answer, he looked back at his Lieutenant.

“Give me the keys.”

His burly second in command handed him a ring of keys, the one he wanted held separate from the rest. Inserting the key into the hole, he unlocked the door and walked in, barking Melenie’s name. The room was empty. Mr. Darber was furious.

“Where is she?” he bellowed, his face turning first red, then purple, his breathing a quick pant. “WHERE IS SHE?”

“Ah… sir?” the lieutenant asked hesitantly.

“WHAT?” Mr. Darber asked, looking like he was about to explode. “WHAT DO YOU WANT?”

“Ah, sir… there’s a note on the table. Sir.”

Darber huffed and puffed until the building was in serious danger of being blown down, and then walked over to the table and picked up the scrap of paper. His eyes twitched back and forth, and then he threw the note into the air, shouting all the while, “WHAT IS THIS? WHO DOES SHE THINK SHE IS?”

His third, a small man in his twenties, walked over and picked the paper up.



I’m out of here. Kindly go fuck yourself, because I’m not coming back. See you in hell, you fat bastard.

Melenie Harper



“I’ll find her, sir. I’ll find out who she cares about, and I’ll bring them to you.”

“Good. And Jon? Don’t disappoint me, or it will be pieces of you I send her. Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Get moving.”

As the diminutive third in command left the room, Darber looked to his massive second.

“Watch him. I don’t quite trust him yet. He is competent, but too clever for my taste. If you suspect anything, anything at all, bring him to the warehouse and tie him down. Use chain, please. Make sure he can’t escape.

“Yes sir.”

Mr. Darber walked over to the window, stroking his chin.

“You’ll be mine, Ms. Harper. Just wait.”



* * *



Jon walked into the club after waiting for half an hour in a line of raver freaks. According to his taps, the last place Melenie Harper had been seen was out in the alley behind Kryptic. In hindsight, it would have been faster to get to the scene from the alley’s mouth on Fourth Street, but he’d wanted to ask around the security room, see if any of them had seen her. Heading back there, he spotted Jax, the head of security. He pulled out a billfold that he flashed to the man, and then he was waved in to the security room.

“What do you want, Jon?” Jax asked, as blunt as he always was. “I don’t like you in this club. Let’s get this over with and then you get your ass out.”

“I’m looking for a girl. Last place she was seen was the alley behind this club. Any of your boys know anything?”

He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a photograph of her. Jax took it from him, looked it over, and then looked over his shoulder to the rest of the room. Holding up the snapshot, he called out to the room.

“Any of you see this girl?”

The men collectively shook their heads.

“Probably for the better, if rumors are true.”

“What rumors, may I ask?”

“You’re working for that bastard Darber. Have been for some time.”

“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”

“You denying it?”

“Regardless of the answer, you should know me better than to expect one.”

“Then get out. Our business here is finished.”

“Until next time, brother.”

“Bye, Jon.”

“Show me out, Jax? I want to see that alley.”

“Whatever will get you out of my hair faster.”

As Jax led him out of the security hallway, toward the emergency exit, he thought about his brother. They’d never been particularly close. Came from the same womb, shared a room for something like fifteen years, but they’d never really bonded. Hadn’t fought, really, but there’d been no love. That had changed after he’d run away. He’d spent ten years being trained as an assassin and professional thief. When he’d gone back, all his brother’d had to offer was animosity. Jax was legit, a security guard working to keep people safe, and Jon was out looking for a girl so that his mobster boss could torment her until she slept with him.

“Jon!” Jax shouted, obviously having said his name a couple of times.

“What?”

“Get out.”

They were at the door.

“Alright. See you around.”

“Not on your life.”

Jon walked out into the alley, the door slamming behind him with finality.

The alley was dark, the only light coming from a halogen bulb over the door. The camera was over to the right, on the side of the building. The alley went off to the left a little before dead-ending, and went off about fifty feet to the right before opening onto Fourth. His tap in that camera had placed her, arguing with someone who couldn’t be seen, at the mouth of the alley. The shadows had shifted as club’s door had been opened, and someone had walked into the alley. The camera had inexplicably gone black for about ten seconds, and then the picture had come back, revealing an empty alley. After another couple of seconds, a man had run past the alley mouth and out of sight. Looking around, Jon couldn’t see anything that would be of any use, so he walked out to the street, pulled out a cell, and dialed.

“I’m in the alley behind Kryptic on Fourth.”

“Be there in ten.”

“See you then.”



* * *



“Gabriel, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Jesus Christ… he hated that bitch.

“What now, Sally?”

“First of all, you’re late again. You live upstairs. How do you manage to be fifteen minutes late on a regular basis?”

“I had some things I needed to take care of.”

“Whatever. If you ever come into my store with you head looking like a medieval mace again, you might as well not come back, because you’ll be fired.”

“Yeah. I figured that out.”

“And now you’re mouthing off to me. Do you not want this job?”

“No. Shit. Yes, I want the job, no, I don’t not want it.”

“How much did you have to drink last night?”

“Way more than I should have.”

“You know what? You’re not getting paid today, and you’re not going to do anything anyways, so why don’t you just go home?”

“Yeah. That’s probably a good idea.”

“Get out of here. And you’d better be in better shape tomorrow.”

“Can do, Sally.”

Gabriel walked out of the pawn shop and up the stairs to his apartment. When he got to the door, he paused with the key in the lock. There was whistling coming from inside. Melenie was whistling.

“Funny how something so simple can make everything seem alright.” He mumbled to himself. He couldn’t help it. Standing there, with his hand on the tangible barrier between the beautiful woman whistling happily in his apartment and himself, he thought of all the reasons they couldn’t be together. All the barriers presented by his past.



* * *



The boy was seven years old. Every Sunday, his mother took him to church. They were sitting in the third pew, just like every other time. The priest called the children to Sunday school, and he got up and walked to the door of the knave. Same as he did every time. Father Santos, the white-haired old man with the kind eyes, was there to greet them, as always. The group of six children marched through the doors in single file. Sunday went as it always did. Everything about that day went exactly as it always did, except for one thing, the event that irrevocably changed the course of his life.

When church was over, and the children were released, Father Santos placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder, holding him back.

He turned the boy to face him and smiled, saying, “My dog, Jeannie, just had her first litter of puppies a couple of weeks ago. I brought them with to try and find them new homes, and I thought you might like to see them. Would you?”

The boy nodded vigorously, and Father Santos took his hand and led him out to his car. Peering through darkly tinted windows, he saw nothing.

“Where are they?” The boy asked.

“They’re probably hiding under the seats.”He said, pausing to take the keys from a fold of his robes. He unlocked the car and cracked the door open. “Would you look for me?”

“Okay.” He said.

When the door opened, he eagerly crawled in, looking under the seats, his eyes straining to make out the sleeping forms of puppies. The door slammed shut behind him, and he heard the lock click into place. He sat up, confused, and then Father Santos got into the front seat. He put his hands up to his bushy white eyebrows and… peeled them off. Next, the blue contacts were removed, revealing a dark brown glare. The white hair came off to expose a gleaming scalp.

In a trembling voice, the boy asked, “Who are you?”

“From now on, you call me Sir, or Master.

“I want my mom.”

“Too bad, son. You don’t have a mom anymore. Just me.”

As the bald, middle aged man with the harsh brown eyes drove away in the elderly Father Santos’ Ford, The boy cried and looked out the window.



* * *



Gabriel didn’t remember anything from before that day. He didn’t remember what his name had been, or any other detail of his life. He only vaguely recalled what his mother had looked like. His only other childhood memories were images of Father Santos’ basement. And what had been done to him there. The same images that had haunted him every minute of every day since he’d been rescued from that place. He wasn’t quite sure how he knew that that Sunday was a carbon copy of every Sunday before it, but the impression was there.

He shook his head and opened the door a crack.

“Melenie?”

“Gabriel? What are you doing back?”

“Sally told me to go home since I wasn’t getting paid anyways.”

“Oh. Ah . . . could you wait for a minute outside for a minute?”

“Why?”

He walked into the room and . . . instantly hard. She was stripped down to yellow boxing shorts and a grey tank top while she pushed his vacuum around the living room. A fine sheen of sweat covered her body.

“Um . . . hi.” She said, blushing. Wow, the rush of blood to her face increased the rush of blood to his . . . not going there.

“I, uh, I sweat a lot when I’m working, so I dress lightly. I was going to change before you came in. You okay?” She looked confused. Why did she look confused? She was saying something.

He muttered, “What did you say?”

“I asked if you’re okay. You look . . . honestly, you look like you haven’t eaten for a couple of days, and you just saw something you really like.” Her eyes went serving platter big, and she looked down at herself. “Oh. ‘Kay, I’m going to go change.”

As she turned and walked away, the muscles in her legs and the sway of her ass almost made him come then and there.

“That’s probably a good idea.” He said to no one. “This is bad. This is a bad situation. This is bad, and I am not going after her.







That's all I've got typed right now. And this is not a steamy romance novel. Nothing happened. It came awefully damned close, but nothing happened. I'm going to go ahead and renumber these things so everything is in the correct order.