My novel follows a boy named Lucas, his friends, and a vampire named Abaddon. People die, funny moments happen, and cool vampire battles ensue over a sibling rivalry, that went way too far.
He then bared his fangs and ripped into her neck, re-tearing the gash left by the root. Abaddon buried his face in her flesh and sucked from every vein he could fit into his mouth. She gripped his back as he drank. Her nails broke through Abaddon’s skin, but it didn’t stop him. He couldn’t feel pain, just strength and life as he fed on the vampire. She weakened against him, and her skin began to grow cold and pale.
Shila had lost consciousness long before he stopped drinking. Once finished, Abaddon pulled his mouth from her neck, took in a deep breath, and tossed her body aside like garbage. . The blood powered his veins, electrified his senses, and he cried out in joy. The night had finally opened up to him again. His blue eyes glowed brightly, piercing the darkness around him. This was the moment he had been waiting on since them moment he‘d left the catacombs. As he listened to the wind rattling against the leaves above him, he could hear the thump of hearts beating. He then remembered the group he’d found Shila with. Each of them were human, each of them held promise, and soon each of them would be dead.
The blaze burned strong, cutting into the darkness with light and heat. The vampire approached his creation, staring deep into the flames as his victims were consumed. Shila wasn’t among the group that lay in the fire. She may have betrayed him, but she was still one of his followers, so he gave her a respectable burial. He drugged the last body through the dirt and flung it onto the fire. The vampire couldn’t remember all of their faces but he could still feel their fear. It gave him power, the edge he’d always needed to come closer to ruling the shadows, and the light. Abaddon didn’t make the same mistakes that other vampires did. That his brother had. Closing his eyes, he could remember how his keeper had drilled rules and limitations into his head. Most would have seen him as a good older brother. Strong. Understanding. Protective, but Abaddon saw what his brother lacked. The guilt of killing stopped him from feeding on his victim’s fight to stay alive. It started small. He’d tell Abaddon to make the people they fed on enjoy their death, to sooth their pain by helping them relishes their demise, and then he stopped killing altogether. He’d take only enough to survive then move on. Abaddon knew this would make his brother weak and eventually it did. But, the worst part arose when resisting the urge to kill became a rule that was enforced over all vampire kind.
Abaddon open his eyes again. He breathed deeply, feeling the warm joy that comforted him completed a massacre. Everyone at the camp had been relatively young, a few of them were even run away teenagers. Youthful blood was the best. What it lacked in wisdom it made up for in life. He knew he would need to drink from aged veins to guide him during his journey, but for now he only craved energy. Most the people had been too inebriated to realize what was happening. Most of then were smoking and or drinking, and a few were dropping acid or eating mushrooms when Abaddon reentered the camp. The taste of Shila’s blood was still on his tongue and the sight of so many bodies was nearly overwhelmed the staved creature. He had mixed into the shadows. They danced sensually, rubbing their bodies against each other. Sharing their partners warm in the cold night, basking in heavy breathing. For a moment Abaddon just stood and watched. The energy around them swirled together wonderfully. He loved when humans tapped out of their surrounding, becoming content with false feelings of protections, making their fragile bodies even easier to overpower. It wasn’t about the struggle for him, but the surprise. They never saw death coming. One moment every thing would seem calm, ordinary, and the next pain, terror, and destruction would come together in one bloody mess. Their music masked their screams. Abaddon would slowly step from the shadows, biting the first person he touched. He even toyed with the ones that had begun to hallucinate. He’d make a kill in font of them then study their faces as they tried to piece together what was happening. By the end of the session Abaddon had tapped into his true power and ate so forcefully that he’d decapitate his meal.
He wasn’t sure what the police would think once they found a pile of torched human, but he was certain that they wouldn’t check for their blood content. In his younger days he would have taken the time to burn down the entire camping ground, but now he saw very little reason to act so thoroughly. The only reason he covered his tracks was because he wanted to make sure that the Shadows wouldn’t catch wind of him. This job was sloppy, immature, and no experienced vampire would leave any evidence of his existence. Finally Abaddon turned away from the fire. He needed a car where he was going and figured the rode would soon be packed with them. Smiling Abaddon walked into the woods and headed towards the high way the night welcomed him, the morning sun would help mask his existence, and the wind was leading him toward a promising, familiar smell.