The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

The Legend of Solomon Mesa, an American Vampire





















It is hard to decide what fact is and what fiction is when it comes to the vampire known as Solomon Mesa. His stories and adventures are told as bed time tales to non-mortal children (I am not excluding Lykens, Mages etc). This is just one gonzo journalist point of view, of someone that was a protector, a right hand man, and a hunter. I first met Solomon Mesa in the early 1990’s, a great hulking brute with a mind like scholar and the wardrobe 1950’s wise guy. And in the real picture that is what Mesa was, a wise guy Vampire, in the world of the Vampires hierarchy there are House’s, Manor’s, Families, royals and nobles. Their system is very similar most underworld principals, make money and gain power.

Solomon Mesa is a name that can strike fear and respect when said out loud, for 167 years he has walked the Earth, on a fine line of life and death. From his beginnings as an enforcer for a bookie to the right hand of a powerful Vampire House, he has seen more than most vampires that live to be three time his age. From his adventures across the vast new territories of Great North America to the old world of Europe, he lived through World Wars, Clan Wars, and The Vampire Lycan War of 1898.



When I first met Solomon he was on one of his many missions for his Baron, it was 1991 a cold bitter January night. I was on my own assignment for newspaper that claimed to be the best seller to the undead and cult readers alike. And at the time I needed the money, we both had a date with destiny and I feared for my life, thankfully I was not his target. I was meeting an informant that had information on a string of killings that had been taking place in Chinatown in San Francisco. Each victim had their throats ripped out and word on the street, but to the everyday public it was no more than a normal everyday gangland killing between rival gangs desperate to control the trade of human blood and drugs in the streets and back allies of Chinatown. It was a very cold night; I waited in a Chinese cemetery for my informant to appear. The fog rolled into the cemetery like a flood gate had opened, and before I could move I was deep in the fog. And with the fog brought my informant without a sound or hint to his presents, he told me that a shipment would becoming in the night and it was all human cargo from Bangkok.

As he finished he told me that a payment needed to be made for his information. I am not sure why but for some reason he threw me into a crypt, while in the air my mind good not understand what happened. While lying on the floor my informant was turning from middle aged Asian male to a bruiting werewolf (or lycan). With no exit insight my main thought had been, “I should have smoked the rest of my stash”. My former informant had openly told me, “Before I kill you, I want you to know the other victims were also reporters, you people will chase any story as long as you think it is a good one.” Many truths come to a man right before his death, some tend to prey, while gonzo reporters like me think why I did not wrote that book. We all have reservations when it comes to those last moments before who knows what happens, so we take death as it comes and hope for the best and expect the worst.

Like any other legend Solomon Mesa appeared and fired three shots into the werewolf, the wolf turned and ran right at Solomon. He ran right into Solomon nearly knocking him down, at first glance that is what I thought. Three moments later the werewolf slowed down and fell to his knees, Solomon rose to his feet and dropped what look to be a heart. Solomon made his way through the cold wet fog to find my informant returning to his human form. Both night creatures spoke to each other with great interest, I was hiding behind a tombstone barley hearing the two of my lighting fast heart beating. Than Solomon kneeled down and shot the broken wolf three times all in the heart, than he turned his attention to me, yet again the fear over took me like a tidal wave. I mean good god man, this big bastard ripped out the heart 7 foot werewolf. What the fuck is he going to do to me?! He walked right to me, I got up and started to run, than I heard him yell, “Don’t run fella, I don’t want chase you, cause we both know you will never make it out of here, so come back and have a smoke.”

For some reason that made sense to me, “Okay, but you got to promise me something man, (he nodded as he lit his cigarette) you just killed my informant man, I need a story or I don’t get paid, you can see my problem man?” He offered me one of his red’s and I took it while smiling, he smiled back and we sat down on a near by bench. “So um, what did this poor bastard do?” Solomon looked at me and smiled, “He broke the law.” Now any reasonably sane intelligent person would have left it at that and try to skip their way out of a situation like this, well I am a reasonably intelligent person and my bank account lack of funds made sell of all my stock in sanity. “So people like him and you have laws?” He smiled as he exhaled his smoke, “You see here, law exist now matter where you go, weather it’s another state or another society. Immortals have laws, and he broke an important law that protects children mortal or immortal. One of his victims was a little boy, a mortal boy. Your law couldn’t stop him so our Law did.” I spent an hour talking when I tried to switch my recorder on by pretending to drop my glasses, when I turned and picked up my glasses he was gone. I turned in a new story to the bosses and they ran with it, I called it, “The Laws of The Night” by Raul Duke. That was many years ago, but every now and than, when I am on assignment he pops up. I have being doing a secret biography of Solomon Mesa; I hope it will do him justice. I sleep better at night knowing that in the world of The Night there is a lone Vampire keeping watch over children and protecting them.