I’m a vampire, after all.

In pop culture, vampires are always imagined with a fine glass of red wine in hand.

I wonder why. Maybe because it resembles blood?

Still, to be honest, I think red wine tastes like crap—I'd much rather have a cold beer.

I love drinking it almost as much as I love the blood of hot moms—I'd chug gallons at every meal if Isabelle didn't get on my case about it.

She really doesn't want to see me with a beer belly.

But whether it's wine, beer, or any other booze, what matters most is who you're drinking it with.

That's why even a beer becomes hard to swallow when I have to drink it with him—Jonh Hawkley, one of New York's rising stars in organized crime.

He moved to New York just a couple of years ago, yet in that short time, he's already carved out a big piece of the shady business—thanks in part to the oh-so-suspicious deaths of most of his rivals.

But his sudden rise to power isn't just because of his sharp mind and charisma.

John Hawkley is a demon.

Yeah, a demon.

Sounds crazy, right? I used to think I was special—one-of-a-kind.

But this world is crawling with demons, vampires, and other supernatural freaks from another world—N'Raeth.

As much as I hate the guy—being around him sends chills down my spine—I have to admit he's the reason I know about my origins.

I have no clue how I ended up here.

For as long as I can remember, I've always lived in the orphanage where Isabelle adopted me.

«Ren Lazar, I hope you've had time to reconsider my offer since our last chat,» he asks, sipping a glass of red wine.

I bet he does it just for show.

No way someone actually enjoys that garbage.

Yeah, his proposal… joining his organization. He's recruiting every creature from N'Raeth, and damn that night I got caught by one of his goons while drinking blood from a homeless guy in the Bronx... after killing him.

What did you expect? I'm a vampire, after all.

Since then, he's been hounding me nonstop. But why should I give up my luxurious life with Isabelle to become a hitman for that bastard? I may be a vampire, but I'm not an idiot.

«My answer is the same as last time, and the time before that, and the time before that,» I say. «Try to understand—I'm still way too young to get killed by some Monster Reaper.»

Yeah, the Monster Reapers... John Hawkley told me about them too—humans whose job is to clean this world of people like me.

I'm already risking enough with my nightly hunts.

I'm not about to stick my neck out just to do a favor for this criminal.

He doesn't even flinch at my refusal—I guess he'd be more surprised if I said yes.

I wonder if he'll ever give up…

He offers to drive me home—we're in Queens, far from the Manhattan penthouse I live in—but only an idiot would get in the car of a crime boss.

Especially one who's also a demon.

Besides, I'm in the mood for a nice walk under the moonlight.

No need to rush—Isabelle thinks I'm doing a sleepover at Elaine's, so I can take my time.

The shady alleys of Queens are pretty dangerous at this hour—they're crawling with the worst scum humanity has to offer.

Isabelle always warns me: «Stay away from those areas, there's bad people around! Did you read the New York Times this morning? Five men were found with their throats slit in one of those streets—probably a gang hit. Promise me you'll never go there, not even during the day!»

I love it when she acts like a wild nympho, but I love it even more when she gets all protective and sweet.

By "bad people," I guess she means those three guys who turned into the same dark alley I'm walking down as soon as they spotted me alone.

They're heading my way with quick steps that scream bad intentions.

They probably expected me to turn around and run. Maybe that's why they've slowed down.

«That kid's a real idiot. How hasn't he noticed we're about to take everything he has and leave him bleeding in the street?»

They're probably thinking something along those lines.

And just as we're about to pass each other... two of them jump me.

Oh no, what a surprise! Who could've ever seen that coming…

They grab my arms and slam me hard against the wall.

They pin me there while the third one pulls out a gun.

I feel the cold barrel pressing against my stomach.

«Didn't mommy teach you to stay away from places like this, especially in the middle of the night?» the man with the gun sneers.

The other two burst out laughing and chime in with similar lines.

God, those smug grins are unbearable…

«Yeah, she told me there are bad people around here, so you guys should be careful—it's dangerous,» I reply, flashing the same creepy grin.

That one line is enough to send the guy with the gun into a rage.

He must be trigger-happy, or maybe he just had a crappy day.

Too bad for him... it's about to get worse.

A gunshot.

Sharp and dull at the same time.

Shit, it hurts like hell… it burns like fire!

And the blood—so much of it pouring from the hole that bastard just made in my stomach… Who's gonna explain to Isabelle that the hoodie she gave me for my eighteenth birthday is now soaked in blood?

I'll have to come up with some excuse later…

«What the... what the fuck…?!» the man with the gun blurts out, stunned, while the other two slowly back away.

They're terrified—how adorable.

I don't know if it's because of the bullet hole that just closed up right before their eyes… or because of my eyes.

Sky-blue eyes, clear and beautiful.

Probably my best weapon for seduction—or at least that's what women always say first when they compliment me.

But right now, they're not sky-blue.

They're glowing—bright, blood-colored embers burning in the dark.

The trigger-happy guy fires two more shots—he's clearly panicking.

Poor guy. Can't really blame him.

One hits me in the chest, the other slams into my jaw at point-blank range.

Same result as before—healed in a flash.

One of them freezes in pure terror. The others—just as stunned—try something else.

They pull out big, sharp knives.

I'd love to stick around and play with them a little longer, but honestly, I'm tired.

I just want to go home and take a nice hot bath.

The horror in their eyes is priceless when a huge gash opens in my palm, dripping blood—blood that begins to float, swirl, thicken… until it shapes itself into a giant red scythe.

But their screams don't last long… just enough time for a single, clean slash to cut off their heads.

And while I'm at it, might as well have a little drink… even though scum like this always tastes awful—sour and nauseating.

And yeah… BLEGH! I don't think I've ever tasted blood this disgusting…

Better than nothing, but I need to get the hell out of here—I can't risk running into a Monster Reaper.

Three more decapitated bodies will be found tomorrow morning… more victims of these damn gang wars.

What did you expect? I'm a vampire, after all.