Sanguine Town

A semi-fantasy world where vampires, werewolves and the supernatural are commonplace. A series of events unfold in the city of "Sanguine Town", that intertwine the fates of five men who are at most acquaintances of the others, but hate them nonetheless.
Lucas, a vampire with no house to call for protection; Detective Inspector Jones, a detective who wants to close an important case; Dante Shadow, a half-vampire looking to redeem himself; Drake Hunter, leader of the Vampire Hunters; and Maxwell Greenwall, a werewolf with a hatred of almost everyone.


1. Murder

Nick retreated into the back room, just as the vampire finished drinking his father’s blood.

Why he had stood around and watched he did not know, but now he regretted it.

The vampire had seen him, and now it was on his heels. Nick found his way to the kitchen, and ran to the drawers.

He opened one and pulled out the sharpest knives he could find, and waited.

The door burst open, and the vampire stormed in.

It was tall, and dominated the doorway, flexing its fingers.

One hand reached up and brushed aside a stray blonde hair, which had freed itself from the short, curtained hair on the vampire’s head.

It stared with large yellow eyes from beneath a heavy brow, which resembled a frown in shape.

It smiled with a very human mouth, aside from the enlarged canines and pointed incisors, which were discoloured by blood.

“Interesting choice of weapons, boy,” it growled. “Don’t you know that metal cannot kill a vampire?”

“I know it can still injure them,” Nick retorted.

The vampire smiled again. “Go ahead. Throw one.”

Nick hesitated, and then threw one of the knives.

It flew over the vampire’s shoulder.

“Close,” it said.

Nick stared at the vampire.

It laughed, and it’s face changed to take on a more human visage.

The yellow eyes were replaced with regular blue ones, and its brow took on an average appearance. The fangs retracted and it stood in the doorway, as if it was human.

“Little boy,” said the vampire. “You have seen your family die. Now you will join them!”

It jumped, it’s face once again taking on a vampiric form.

Nick ducked, screaming.

Glass shattered and the vampire disappeared from the kitchen.

Shaking, Nick stood up and moved to look out the window.

Laying face down in the garden was the vampire, which had landed mere inches from a sharp, wooden stump.

It moved, and started to push itself up.

Nick sighed, knowing he did not stand a chance against the creature.

He walked to the centre of the kitchen and stood, shaking, waiting for the vampire to re-enter the house, and kill him.

He didn’t have to wait long.


The coroner zipped up the last of the three body bags and loaded it onto the trolley.

“Poor boy,” he muttered. “Didn’t stand a chance.”

Detective Inspector Jones shook his head vigorously. “Of course he didn’t! It was a bloody vampire! Few people can stand against a vampire and live!”

The coroner nodded. “May I ask you a question?”

Jones inclined his head.

“Do you think this is the same one?”

Jones removed his brown fedora hat and shook his head. “No. There is a subtle difference in this attack.”

“And that is…” pressed the coroner.

“He gave the boy a chance.”

The coroner raised an eyebrow. “How can you tell?”

Jones walked to the kitchen doorway and indicated the knife in the door frame. “Vampires are fast. So fast, you’d have to be a Hunter or another vampire to be able to attack fast enough. This vampire let the boy try to attack.”

The coroner sighed. “And why would it do that?”

“Sport,” Jones suggested, “or possibly just to see if he could.”

The coroner shook his head. “Well, whatever the reason, he either left the scene through the window, or missed the boy and ended up in the garden.”

Jones shrugged. “You’re a coroner, James. Not a CSI. Do your job and let them do theirs.”

James sighed and wheeled the trolley from the scene, leaving Jones in the kitchen.

He studied the room.

The vampire had forced the door open, splintering it at the centre and loosening it from the hinges.

There had probably been a short talk between the vampire and the boy. Vampires had a habit of doing that when it came to the final victim in a house.

A bit of jeering here; a bit of mockery there. It was shameful.

Jones moved over to the table, and studied the small pool of blood at one end.

This was where the bite had taken place.

He replaced his hat and pulled a pair of sunglasses from the pocket of his brown trench coat.

In Sanguine Town, every day was sunny; every night was cold, dark and terrible.

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