Chapter 1

Darkness slowly receded as Jasper’s muddled mind gradually regained a semblance of consciousness. Blood steadily oozed past swollen lips as he lay, face down, in a shallow, muddy pothole. He could feel the flesh over his left eye swelling while the throbbing in his head intensified to the extent that he was sure the iron bar that was used to beat him with was lodged deep inside of it.  There was a faint sensation of warmth coating his ears from the blood that steadily trickled from them.  This explained why all sounds were muted and barely audible.

He was grateful that the pothole was shallow enough to keep him from drowning because he had no idea when he’d find the strength to push himself up and out of it. Even the effort of rolling onto his back felt unobtainable. 

He’d run out of money to pay for his research. Never one for waiting until tomorrow to do what could be done today, he’d insisted on making the trip to the other side of town after a late-night dinner to petition his benefactor for more funds even though logic and his assistant told him that his petition could have waited – and probably would have been better received- until the following morning.  If only he’d listened to one or the other.

Knowing that the streets would be barely passable in his car and with his destination less than a mile away, he’d decided to traverse the distance on foot. In his impatience to reach the townhome of the wealthy entrepreneur, Steven Giles, he did what he knew he shouldn’t have done.  He made the fateful mistake of cutting through the alley. 

He normally avoided alleys since nothing good ever happened in them.  Not to him, anyway. During his college days, his friends would brag about all the great things they did in the dimly lit private cubbies and alcoves of alleys, like hooking up with a woman who didn’t demand payment for the sex that they had with her while concealed in the recesses of a remote doorway or the purchase of a coveted item that mysteriously fell off the back of a truck from an unsavory looking character for an unbelievable low price. For him, it was never that way.  Instead, a trip through the alley at night generally led to the loss of his wallet or a family heirloom such as his grandfather’s watch.

Although he’d been robbed on numerous occasions while foolishly using an alley at night, admittedly, he’d never suffered an assault such as the one he’d just experienced.  In fact, he couldn’t even fathom something of this degree ever happening to him.  Yet, it did.

No.  Alleys were not good for him. He should have stayed out of it.

Jasper had no reason to be there other than the fact that he was taking a shortcut to the other side of town. He’d almost managed the long and narrow stretch behind the block that contained the “Old Thyme Tavern” to avoid the crowd that had spilled out of it onto the street to celebrate Independence Day. The owner of the local bar was famous for hosting extravagant celebrations for major occasions. The functions attracted such large gatherings that the streets were often either difficult to maneuver through or completely shut down during the occasion. 

On this particular night, the city was busy celebrating Halloween and maneuverability was a major issue.  His regrets for wanting to avoid pushing his way through the crowd by taking the notoriously perilous short cut were acute.

With his mind clouded from the pain in his head, he was hard pressed to remember just what had happened. He recalled a man wearing a zombie costume that was so authentic looking that it was not only creepy, but a tad frightening. It reminded him of the zombies in the television series and movies that were all the rage. The zombie man had behaved in perfect character by grabbing and pulling at him while acting as if he wanted to bite a bit of his flesh. In fact, Jasper was certain that he got a good nip in there. Even though he’d drawn blood, it wasn’t the zombie character who pummeled him to the ground. He was still trying to piece it together, but he was certain that the beating came from another source. Two. No, three men.

They came out of nowhere in wolf-like costumes and sliced off the head of the zombie dressed character with a large sword while Jasper was struggling to be free of him. 

Jasper’s first thought was that he’d stumbled into a gang war zone of some type.  Gang battles were nothing to take lightly.  Although death was often a result of such battles, beheading wasn’t something that he’d read about in the news.

Traumatized to the point of being immobilized by what he’d just witnessed, he was unable to fight back when the three men proceeded to tackle him to the ground and pummel his body with fists, rocks, and, finally, a crowbar. It wasn’t until much later that he questioned why they’d left his head intact.

The attackers desire to closely mimic the character of the costumes they wore was both frustrating and shocking.  He could only reason that there was some sort of contest or gang challenge that they were participating in to make them behave with such dedication even while mugging someone.  If memory served him right, he was clawed and bitten by one of them as well. 

Left broken and barely holding onto life, he felt certain that he wouldn’t survive more than a few hours.  The possibility of someone of strong moral character stumbling upon him in that dingy alley and calling for medical help was bleak. If by some miracle someone did come along to rescue him in time, he’d definitely have to get tested for diseases that could have entered his bloodstream via these wounds.

He grew weaker and weaker as he faded in and out of consciousness. Whenever his mind got coherent enough to realize his situation, he was surprised to discover that he was still able to inhale life giving air.  He shouldn’t have survived such a brutal attack.  Yet, the searing pain that coursed through every inch of his body told him that he’d done just that. 

The question was… for how much longer?

Summoning enough strength to move his hand to his pants pocket, he was surprised to discover that his money was still there. He could feel that the designer watch that he’d purchased to replace the watch he’d inherited from his grandfather and had been stolen in a mugging while in his early twenties had also been left on his wrist.  Things weren’t making sense. Getting drunk and, then, acting in character and attacking in such a way was one thing, but since when did robbers beat a man to mere inches from his life and then not rob him?  Then, were they really robbers?  They’d beheaded a man, after all. 

As if his mind wasn’t muddled enough after such a head bashing, trying to make sense out of what just occurred confused it even more.

With all the strength that he could muster, he lifted his head and looked around.  The dim lighting from the sparsely placed fixtures on the back of a few buildings mingled with the moonlight.  It illuminated the narrow, cluttered alley just enough for him to make out his surroundings.  Vomit surged up his throat and out of his mouth and nose when his eyes settled on the severed head of the zombie costumed man. With his breathing temporarily impaired, he feared that the vomit would do what the beating hadn’t succeeded in accomplishing.

After vigorously coughing and forcing air through his damaged throat and broken nose, he managed to clear the passageways enough to take in a sufficient amount of precious, life giving oxygen. With his fears of suffocating on his own vomit quelled, he braved a closer look at the zombie man’s decapitated body that lay so close that, had he the wherewithal, he could have touched it. 

He doubted anyone would hear him over the boisterous celebration going on in the streets, but he tried to cry out anyway. His attempts proved useless.  The only thing that his crushed vocal cords managed to produce was a barely audible, gravelly groan. 

Feeling exhausted from the pain and defeated by his situation, he eased his bruised and bloody cheek back into the shallow mudpuddle and allowed darkness to relieve him of his nightmare reality.

As he lay so still as to appear lifeless, a tall figure dressed in an eighteenth century styled, sleek black cape with a red satin lining and an equally sleek looking black satin top hat steadily made his way down the alley.  Had Jasper been alert, he would have admired such an authentic costume that clearly showed the stranger to be portraying a vampire. 

The man’s footsteps echoed off the building as they blended with his carefree whistling. Spotting the decapitated zombie’s body next to the lifeless looking one lying in a heap with his face in a puddle, the vampire character stopped whistling and cautiously looked around.  Seeing no one or nothing that could prove menacing, he made his way to them.

Bending over the unconscious man, he carefully checked for signs of life before piercing his wrist with an elongated tooth and allowing his blood to drip into the wounded man’s mouth.  Satisfied when he saw the man’s severely bruised throat working to swallow the blood that was given to him, he picked up the wounded and limp form as if it weighed no more than a rag doll and positioned it over his shoulder.

Jasper’s body flopped to and fro as his rescuer ran hard and fast until he’d gained enough speed to leap into the air. Once in flight, Jasper’s limp and almost lifeless body settled into position. Had he been conscious to see the vision that they made, he would have been in awe over the way that the man’s cape spread like wings while he soared with the grace of an eagle as they disappeared into the moonlit night