New York, 1910
Sebastian Blackwell was only eighteen years of age the day that he was turned—a painful experience that was against the laws of the Peace Entente, and was by all means punishable by the Transcendent Council.
A chill ran up the length of his spine from the cold chill radiating off of the East River and he shivered.
Motley's Tavern, was Sebastian's favorite place to go: To listen to music on the radio and dance along to the sounds of Scott Joplin playing piano while he sneaked shots of Liquor and danced the night away, fully to his heart's content, just to stumble home and do it all again the next day.
The way home was never easy. Sebastian was a clumsy drunk by nature; he stumbled a lot and fell over his own two feet. His stomach twisted and felt as if it were turning inside out and twisting into bundles of knots. He stumbled onward, passing behind The Ritter Painless Dental Co.—the local dentist—into one of the back alleys, taking a short cut home. The faint glow from the fires burning in lanterns bolted to the walls of the building didn’t offer much help for seeing in the dark, but they helped enough.
Sebastian’s black hair was sweaty and disheveled from dancing and running his hands through it.
There were empty bottles of booze that littered the alley. Sebastian's feet felt like weights to him, and they dragged as he walked, jostling bottles every time he made to move. They made a distinct clinking sound as they hit against another.
He stopped for a moment to take a break, a bout of nausea rising in the pit of his stomach and all he could taste was hot and bitter bile that made his face morph into one of disgust. He closed his eyes and waited for the fit of nausea to dissipate, resting the palm of his hands on his knees.
A bottle rolling around and clinking against one of the brick building walls caught his attention, he jerked his head to the side to see where it had come from, but the air was knocked out of him as he was pushed against the brick wall in a swift movement, and he felt an immense jolt of pain shoot up his back. The air was knocked out of him. He gasped for air trying to fill his lungs and winced at the distant throbbing pain that took over his spine. His eyes—one brown and one green—glazed over with tears and a crimson hot blush took over his face.
It felt as if his back had shattered into tiny remnants of glass. The pain was searing and only added to the panic that he felt thanks to his not being able to breathe.
He was staring into the eyes of death. And a deep sense of unease washed over him, looking into the eyes that stared back at him—the whites of the man's eyes were a dark black color and his eyes were a deep set red; like blood.
The man didn't speak just stared back at Sebastian with emotionless laced features. Four sharp canines—double fangs—descended from their sheaths inside the man's mouth and a sharp gasp jumped from Sebastian’s throat. He felt a pinch in the side of his neck where the man had sunk his teeth into the skin and started drinking his blood, gulping it down with a greedy passion. With each passing moment, he started feeling weaker and lightheaded from the loss of blood; it was a feeling like no other. Then, his mind went blank and he closed his eyes; his body relaxed and he could feel a poison running through his veins and he felt himself relax.
He welcomed death with an unusual certainty letting it take over him and then everything went black.
When Sebastian Blackwell woke, he was somewhere buried underground; he had no memory of where he was or what he was doing there, but he didn't care. He was confused and his throat felt as if it were as dry as the Atacama Desert.
After he freed himself from the confines of his grave; he had a convulsing hunger like no other. He could hear the racing pulses of passerby as they rushed home because it was late and the leering red moon above cast down a malicious red glow unto the world below. And the torches that provided a small semblance of light didn't help much.
Sebastian’s stomach clenched tightly.
The sound of blood pulsing through people’s veins grew louder in his ears and his double fanged canines throbbed in his mouth. His senses were dialed up to one-hundred and he couldn't take it. He acted quickly and without thought when someone passed by the cemetery that he was in and attacked; his teeth sank into unknown flesh. He swallowed the person's blood in huge gulps, a wave of energy coursed through his body and blood rushed through his veins. The stranger's body fell limp in his arms; he pulled back, snapping back to reality, his teeth ascending back into their sheaths.
Sebastian licked his mouth clean of blood, grimacing at the taste now that he was back to reality, and looked down at the person lying lifeless in his arms—it was a man. A look of fear was plastered on the his face and Sebastian watched pitifully as the last semblances of life drained from the man's green eyes, slowly and then all at once. The light that radiated brightly in them turned dull and hollow, lifeless like a star that had died out.