I remember this day with a peculiar vividity. It is, I would say, my greatest deed but perhaps also my worst sin. The reminiscence... It's so fresh I could reach out and feel it between my finger tips, taste its immersion on my tongue and become lost in its detail.
I remember the day was hotter - hotter than our Home in the Manor could ever be - and I imagine that the dust scattered outwards as I neared the towering stronghold of Temple Mount. I'd been travelling non-stop for ten days, killing anything in my path without a second thought, tearing out its throat and drinking the sweet gory elixir within to keep me energised.
Even so, with every swift step, I could feel the blood of thousands boiling within me in a rage.
How dare they even think of murdering my sweet Rebecca?
I stood to a sudden halt before the giant gates of the stronghold, the dust that was trailing behind me shifting forward and pelting the guards on duty. They spat sand from their mouths and rubbed their eyes, before surveying me with a wary gaze. But there was more. There was fear. That was a good sign. Before they could make a move, I rushed at the first and flung a dagger in the throat of the second. I grabbed my prey by the collar of his shirt and hoisted him up - using his body as a shield against the arrows whistling towards me from above. I threw the dying man away like a rag-doll, kicked open the door. Several of those within brandished their glowing swords.
I admit, the light burned my insides and I felt a compelling urge to flee.
But a voice brought me back. I heard the name of my beloved being called and condemned.
How dare they...
I rushed passed the soldiers who couldn't land a blow on my body if I was sprinting like a human, and crashed through several wooden doors until I found them.
The place looked like an altar, a place where some pagan somewhere would sacrifice an unsuspecting beast to a bygone and long-forgotten god in return for blessings and curses. A giant crucifix was hanging over the block and it hurt my eyes just to look at it. The ringleader howled and order and several soldiers with glowing swords ran in my direction. I unsheathed my own weapon and parried a blow upwards, jabbed at a throat, and remembered that the sword in my hand was not the only weapon within my possession. I let my anger and passion drive me towards my aim - but it would not consume me.
If only that giant block of wood wasn't so distracting!
Someone threw water at me and I screamed in a rage, dropping to my knees in pain. That burning, boiling water! What was it? I heard someone call my name, but I couldn't tell who. Laughter of a sinister quality rang in my ears, “Another sacrifice!” said the cowled ringleader, “Baphomet will be pleased with our offering.”
I didn't have to take this.
I wasn't some half-blood, undead human.
I was a true disciple of the Dread Lord.
I am a vampire.
I allowed rage and fire to consume me. Blood poured from my eyes and nose, and I screamed as my skin tore away and revealed the horrible beast beneath. Fangs split my gums and my nails turned to jagged claws. My vision blurred until all things became black silhouettes against a plain red background. I could smell their fear, see them become more vivid as they cowered away. I snapped my jaws and leapt on a target, biting into his flesh and tearing him to shreds.
Many ended the same way - and their crucifixes, their burning water, their prayers could not save them.
It was only Rebecca's voice that returned me to her world, the world of ignorant humans.
She looked at me with surprised eyes, “What... are you?” she asked.