When Darkness Falls

The year is 1450, twenty two years before the Christopher Columbus discovers the New World. The world is still perceived as flat and many still believe the Earth is the center of the universe when in fact it is the sun. Even then this is not true... No matter, sciences and discovery do not hold much meaning to society. The Black Death has passed yet something keeps leaving cadavers to be found marked with the terror one disease could fill thousands.

Each night, another victim, each morning, a new body. Humans begin dropping like flies in the dead of night and pretty soon a new plague that sucks the blood from flesh seems to form. But is it truly a plague, could it be the fear of the people has finally manifested into one giant beast to take men and women one by one from the city?

The rumurs spread, but no one has proof, just more bloodless corpses littering the streets, waiting to be consumed by rats and maggots. This is Italy alright, in its purest form of strife. May god have mercy on the traveller's soul.

Drunken laughter echoes in the night, disturbing the silent night. The laugh echoes through the dark streets and continues on for a while until it is silenced, but only for a moment. Two silhouetted figures stumble down a dark alley, one the figure of well muscled man and the other, the figure of a petite framed woman, scantily clad. The man's arm is wrapped around the woman's waist while the other holds a bottle of alcohol. "And then... he-he said 'That's a woman? Methinks not! It's a man!'" he exclaims, laughing boisterously. His words are slurred and he hiccups every once in a while. "That is hilarious! Was it really a woman?" comes a sultry female voice. "Nah..." he replies as they turn into another alleyway, the man pins her up against the wall with one hand trailing up her thigh, "You're a woman..." He kisses her neck and the woman laughs in response, however, her expression is blank.

The man's hands caress her body, slipping beneath her clothing, ripping it away as his kisses become more needy. He lifts one of her legs up suddenly, as he fumbles with the belt buckle of his pants. "Ah, ah, You haven't paid yet..." she whispers seductively, stopping him. "I'll pay ya after..." he grunts with an annoyed tone. "Pay me, and I'll make sure to please you ten times over," she purrs while running her hands on his body. The man is silent for a moment, then he moves to get his money. His hands fumble in the dark to get his purse string. The coins jingle as he pours the currency into the woman's hands who quickly steals it away on her person. "Now, let me help you with that," the woman whispers as she helps him with his pants. Once again, the man shoves her leg up and snatches the fabric away before shoving in, groaning in pleasure. The woman gasps as he begins to thrust into her at an erratic, quick pace. Her hands wrap around his neck as their heated breaths fill the silence. Soon the man grunts, and stops, his body convulsing slightly as is the woman.

He quickly relaxes and that seals his death. Suddenly, the woman latches onto the man to yank down the collar of his shirt. Her lips caress his neck lightly before sharp fangs rip into his flesh resulting in a pained scream until it is quickly silenced with a sickening crack. His body goes limp and falls to the ground with the woman kneeling by his body, her mouth clamped onto his neck. After a while, she pulls back with blood around her lips and her eyes seem to reflect red in the moonlight. On the ground lays the pale body of her victim. Her expression is blank, but her eyes appear haunted, almost guilty... She is silent as she fixes her clothes, and wipes away any fluids or blood. Once she is finished, she disappears into the night and that is when a terrified scream breaks through in the night at the discovery of the body...

It's sunrise as four wooden caravans bump along a dirt road. A dark clothed man lays aloft in the hay, sleeping from the night before. The gypsies were kind enough to house him for the trip, but it he would regret having accepted after finding a large slippery tongue across his face as the donkies came to eat. He rolled over and out of the stack and rubbed his face, waking to the full glow of the sun just peaking over the horizon. A large gentleman looks strangely at him, it was the leader of the caravan, who had a build to match his work load.

"Sir, you are one strange man to sleep in the hay, not many a man would do so..." He said petting his donkey, the caravan had stopped for the morning to make repairs to the middle wagon. The black haired man stood, still rubbing his face, the putrid flavor of donkey slobber on his face. He shook for a moment before giving a wicked grin, "Well I guess I'm not many a man."

"Who did you say you were stranger?" The large gypsy fumbled though a sack on his pocket and pulled out part of a loaf before handing the gritty piece to the traveller, "Oh, I'm an exorcist. Bushido, budist, and daoist studied." The man stroked his large mustache, the hairy lip looked like a catepillar had taken rest there. The dark character had to squint when the sun rose higher and shone light on the man's bald head. They had oils to use so they couldn't be that poor.

"Exorcist? We don't see many of those..." The younger man tore off a piece of bread, closed his eyes for a moment for a small prayer, before looking at the man again. "Well, I'm from the lands to the east." The man cocked an eye for a moment, "A foreigner?" The dark garbed man nodded, taking a mouthful of bread. His mouth felt like cotton after taking the first bite, the fibers of the bread nearly gagged him as the piece went down. He choked it down before taking another chunk in his hand, smaller this time.

The caravan man led his donky away to a bucket of water in which the ass began to bray and duck his head away until the strong man began to stroke his nose. "What brings you to Venice?" The man took another gulp before speaking, the piece not killing his throat this time, "I've come to hunt." The gypsy turned his head to the man. The man shook his head and took another bite. "I mean spirits. There are recent hearings of cadavers of rich men turning up... Though I'm sure it may only be a rumor and the bodies fake."

"I do hope so," the man sighed, wiping his face before pushing the ass to one of his sons. "We are here to stop in and come to the meeting. You are welcome to stay with us until the festival is over." The gentleman smiled, "Thank you. I would appreciate that, by the way, where are you from?" One of the daughters, a beautiful young maiden of the group wandered over to meet the stranger with a wine skin, "Sorry, the wagon's axle broke and it had the wine skins on it and..." The large man passed the skin from her to the man. Who nodded taking it, the large man looked over to his daughter and pointed her back to the caravan, "Lidia, please, stick with your mother. There are still bandits on the loose, it is safer for you in the cart." The girl nodded looking down.

The young man called after her, "Thank you, it was not necessary, but thank you." She blushed and ran back. The man looked down at the exorcist. "To answer your question, we are from the German nations." The younger man nodded, taking another bite. "It's unusual, but very understandable. Thank you for the ri-" Far off came a shout from a boy, "Father! We fixed the axle!" The gypsy nodded and patted the man who smirked and moved to the next caravan. They arrived only a few hours later, bump ridden and sore, to the city of Venice. The large streets, bustling with activity from markets, vendors, and many other craftsmen and laborers.

Aromas twisted through the air and blended erotic and tongue savory spices. Languages from every corner of the world filled the atmosphere, a large change from the quiet woods, but everyone adjusted as the cart rolled further into the market place. Soon the caravan were parked on the other side of the city, just outside the walls, the family began to unpack, everyone took to their jobs, and the young man set up a new bed as soon as the family removed the hay. As the night came again, the family came together once again to dance, during the dancing, the man sat down at a caravan and watcd the city.

It was a long day (And sorry for the long intro), he passed a large portion of Venice on his way through, giving him the glorious ideas on where he could catch his hunt, but he had decided to rest with the gypsies on the first night and begin his investigation in the morning. He sat alone, until the man came over and sat next to him, holding out a wine skin, which the man respectfully denied once. The mustached gypsy spoke, looking at the city from the hill on which they sat, "What's your name?" He asked.

The exorcist remained silent for a moment, "Bladen..." the man nodded, "Bladen. The city below us is full of theives, murderers, harlots, and the corrupt. If you are an honest man, and you seem to fit... Don't let it corrupt you." Bladen nodded, rubbing his face again. Something twitched in his eye, something he started to notice twinkled. He could sense something, but he quickly lost it when the gypsy's hand rested on his shoulder. "Good luck." He said before he sank back into the group. Bladen watched the city below. Pulling on his sword, gripping the handle with such a force his knuckles turned white.

It was here, he'd meet his greatest challenge. He stumbled back to his bed and shut the cart for the night.

Sofia the Whore; she was one of many prostitutes who roamed the city in search of new patrons for Madonna Lucretia Benivicci, the woman all the girls worked for. She was like a mother hen to them all, always making sure that her girls were protected and she provided them with a home, warm foods and clothes. Because she was so kind, the prostitutes always did their best to get as much money in order to pay back their dear "Mother."

It was the early, dark hours before dawn when Sofia returned to the brothel. It was silent that not even a mouse stirred; everyone had gone to sleep in their respective rooms with the night's lewd activities done and over with. As the young woman moved through the halls, the scent of perfume was thick in the air mixed with smokey tobacco. The brothel always smelled of perfume, always the sweet scent; it was almost sickening. However, Sofia had grown accustomed to the thick perfume that it no longer bothered her; she never even noticed anymore. It was a scent most men grew intoxicated with; Madonna Lucretia had mentioned it was a type of aphrodisiac. That woman was cunning and clever as her brothel was the most successful within Venice. Men were always coming back for more; many powerful politicians called in Madonna Lucretia to satisfy their lust.

This was how renowned this brothel was; tonight one of the cardinals was supposedly staying in one of these rooms. Sofia could not be sure since it wasn't something that she was familiar with as her assignment was on the streets. Most girls preferred in staying in the brothel as it was safer, but not Sofia; she preferred the streets as she could get away with the murders...

For a few months now, the bodies of men have appeared in the streets with their blood completely drained and in some cases, their necks snapped. Fear hangs over the city as the murders continue; with no suspects whatsoever. The murderer runs free; continuing the heinous crimes. What nobody knows is that the murderer is a vampire; a vampire who kills in order to survive. Sofia cannot help herself; she must feed or she herself will die.

The young woman enters her dark room then lights a few candles before removing her clothing until she is standing in the room completely naked. She enters the next room, where a small hot bath waits for her. A small smile spreads across the lips as she enters the small bath. She bathes herself clean then exits to dry off then slip on a nightgown. Daybreak is almost upon them, but no sign of it can be seen in her room. All the windows are covered by dark curtains keeping it dark. "I'll try for a week this time..." Sofia whispers as she sits at the vanity. A lovely girl stares back from the reflection, with auburn curls framing her petite face. Her dark eyes are accentuated by long, thick lashes. Sofia stares at her reflection as she brushes her hair. "One week..." she murmurs once more.

Blayden awoke from his sleep, head coved with roaming strands of hay. The aroma of cooked fruits, meats, and breads awaited him. His head hurt, there was that itching pain again, the one that scratched his mind. Like nails against his skull. He pushed against the floor. The wooden ply boards creeked against the pressure. His palms stretched and his body flexed. The scars on his back spread and crossed.

He sat up, tending to his bandages around his arms, rewrapping the cuts and burns. He applied a suave brought to him by the gypsies, it cooled against the injuries. The darkness helped with his thoughts as he sharpened his sword and dressed, pressing his hands across the fabric to get rid of the creases. As he stepped out he was greeted by more gypsies who offered him a few things of food, which he respectfully denied, until a cup of tea was offered.

He sat by a fire, taking in the culture around him. People talked and the camp grew a little more each minute as more carts arrived. As he finished the tea, he found himself being watched by the gypsy girl he saw before. The daughter of the gypsy who took him in. Blayden glanced at her a few times, trading glimpses. It took a bit before he stood and holstered his sword. The gypsy man waved him off.

He caught onto a hay ride going into the city. He landed himself at the town hall, which contained a morgue nearby, and a brothel only a few blocks down. The city was bustling with every type of people. he stood on a corner. His head, grinding with that power, he was near the signs. Bladen walked into the morgue, got inspection papers from the head, and began to inspect the bodies.

His gloved fingers spread across each of their necks, bending the gnarled heads slightly over. He was watched y several guards. As he bended the head over, he found two small circles at the base. Bladen smiled to himself, his hunt was smart enough to cover its scent. He could smell the stink of oils and perfumes still resignating from this mans clothes. As the exorcist backed up, the cadarver's hand twitched. At first, it was small, as if something bumped it. Bladen took no real notice of it, but proceeded to the next corpse in caution.

The next had the same idea, only the man was fatter, more gruesome, but rich nonetheless. He had to move folds of fat to find the bite mark. He smirked as he did, even if he was touching dead bodies, this new hunt was going to be the thrill of his life time. That's when things turned to the worst. Suddenly, the corpses begin to jotter and flail about in their beds. The were coming back to life. Blayden backed to the wall, not having his weapon. The morgue guards were very alarmed as they shoved gun powder rifles up into the air.

The cadavers threw themselves off their beds, some standing immediately, others crawled. Each one marched towards the exit trying to escape. The guards fired and the bullets hit their mark. The men shuffled in the room trying to reload their rifles and take aim, but by the time they began packing their gun powder, they were over taken, some tried hand to hand, only to realize the zombies would get back up after a few knocks. Blayden reached for his sword but only managed to grasp his coat tail into his white fingers.

A zombie lunged at him, but Blayden dodged with ease