Part 0:

Vane's hands touched many different things in his ever-long lifetime. He touched golden hair of some poor woman whose blood he spilled, he held hands of people in his village, long ago. When he raised his hands in the misty dawn, he could feel the cold and humid morning winds. He would stay out until the night, at which he only cared to collapse on his blankets.

His dinners were with people as a man in those days. He felt the security of his companions and his family, yet he had left them as a creature. When they rejected them, he kicked the ash from the fire onto his house in anger, fleeing when he watched it catch flame. The heat that night had seared into his skin no matter how far he ran. Only the cool, smooth stone of the rocks he hid inside as a child seemed to soothe him.

He did not know what had happened to him that day. But today, his hands ran down his face every once in a while. The only thing he could still touch.

Part 1:

"Martin," Vane called with a lax wave of his hand. "Come."

He wasn't far from the man, so he needed only speak to him. Martin was performing the petty task of sweeping dirt off of the floor of a natural cave. The wind only blew more inside, yet if it was not tended to, like how Martin swept as he walked up the steps to Vane, it would only overwhelm.

"Vane…." Martin muttered. His enthralled mind struggled to let go of task after task, but with some effort he peeled himself from his work. As Vane looked at him, his limbs felt heavy and awkward. His eyes refused to stay still, darting from one pale piece of his master to another.

Under the attention, Vane crossed his legs as he leaned back into the darkness of his extended seat. The red eyes he bore gleamed across the walls, reflected squarely in his thrall's dark pupils. The sound of the broom clattering from his limp hand gave him pause.

"You have no mind today?" Vane asked.

"M…m…not..." Martin sputtered as he bowed. Vane frowned at it, although Martin would not have known it.

"Never you mind," he sighed, a hand extending from his darkness to force a bind of money into Martin's hands. "I wish to leave soon. I want a new home, but you know well that no home will be suitable for me. You will take the letter that is tucked into this leather and mail it just as you did before. If asked for a recipient, in case you tamper with it for whatever reason… Then you will simply tell them that it belongs to Georgis Vane."

"V…ane? Georgis Vane…"

Vane nodded. "It is a portmanteau… I want to call it an anagram, perhaps that is the word your little friend used before me. Not to mention he has stolen my name. Nonetheless, he has a local address, so they will find him easily at a Grenn Road. Do you understand?"

"I understand," Martin mumbled as he turned against his will, clumsily grabbing and dropping his old backpack. The red eyes were upon him, burning into some part of his soul so intensely that it may as well have been the sole thing keeping him.

His hands against their will moved to the bandages on his neck. This morning he wrapped his neck back up for the third time since he came here. His neck bled freely sometimes… He had been… no, something had happened, didn't it? He tried to remember why these bandages were on him, only to receive a sharp sting behind his eyes.

"We don't have all night, you will weaken in the day." Vane tapped his knuckle on the hollow stone of the wall, catching Martin's eyes once more. "Hurry back.

Part 2:

Martin returned by the next nightfall, stumbling in on tired legs and frenzied eyes. Yet he was not alone, as a tall, leaner man helped him inside.

Vane huffed at the sight of him. "Reginald."

"That is Reggie, now. Be polite." Reggie threw Martin onto the piles of trash inside, where he wriggled around to at least get back on his knees. "You're sending letters to me, then you snort at me like a bull. Am I your only friend, because I begin to see why I may be."

"I sent you a letter," Vane said, descending the steps. His grayed hair cradled his delicate features from view as he clutched part of the rock. "I did not invite your kind into my parlor."

"Oh? Your thrall did, so I was practically extended a private invitation." He pet Martin on the head, who murmured and fell backward against his will. "Do not pretend I don't know where you lie your head during the day. Let me see you."

"Get away from me," he spat.

"I will not. I read your letter." At this, Reggie exploded into a form of black gnats, weaving their way behind Vane. He winced at the onslaught, but just as quickly as he disappeared, Reggie appeared to grab Vane's hair. He pulled him backward, using his other hand to claw into his front upper thigh. "You're interested in real estate, Vane? I thought you not the type, seeing as your breed cannot even stand to see the sun," he whispered in his ear. He took his hand from Vane's hair and grabbed him by the jaw, instead. When he squeezed, Vane opened his mouth in a open snarl. "You're a real relic, aren't you? They don't make fangs like those you have anymore…"

"Reginald," Vane snarled, bringing his own claws up to scratch his way out. And Reggie immediately released him. His force sent him falling to his knees off the stairs, his white hair ragged over his shoulders. Reggie took no time to grab him again, moving to look at his face.

It was the same wasted youth as always. He was almost like a perfect snapshot in time of the purest, oldest of their kin. The vampirism turned his hair silver, but his eyes were a pointed, sharp lining with the breed's red eyes. His long nose still cast shadows from the candlelight, but the maturity he gained from the view was lost just as easily with another tug backwards. To put it simply, he was a very, very young man to have been turned.

"I should keep you," Reggie laughed as he let him go. "I have to be older than you, it isn't fair. So many kin in this world think of you as a legendary elder man… God, pray that I do not tell them."

"You can't!" Vane commanded, recovering and taking a sharpened cleave of a rock Martin had whittled for him. "If you do, then I reserve the right to tell them that you are not kin at all. They will believe me, they hate you."

"That is true." He said, moving past him and sitting next to Martin, all tense and wide-eyed like a cat in the darkness. "You have such a… refreshing way of putting it all. And your creature is almost exactly tuned in."

Martin shook his head at Reggie, who crept over to him. Before he knew it, he grabbed Martin by the collar and ripped the bandage from his neck. "Ah, here's the rub," he cooed, running a thumb over two twin scabs. "You really are a vampire… Yet…"

"Silence," Vane said, throwing his hand forward. Martin's entire body stiffened with a yelp from him, before easing into sleep. "Do not make me wake him. I plucked this one for what he could do."

"And I don't want to see that?"

"Correct."

"I don't believe you."

Reggie stood and carried Martin like a baby, placing him in a stack of blankets. "If his power is strength alone, he can never hurt me. No one can touch me if I do not wish them to." He turned around when he tucked the man in. "Your thrall is very interesting to me, though. I wish I could make my own. When I make thralls… they have to die for me to control them. But you have a living man here that you have recently bitten. He is confused, animalistic, and immoral."

Vane snatched Reggie's hand, forcing him to turn around. "Martin came from the descendants of my village. I spotted him doing work in the woods, and, as far as he told me, they are looking for him. So I have to leave."

"I see. You know I fancy you, so you come to me for help?" Just like he said, his hand melted through Vane's hand, turning into the black fog and composing itself as scratching at his own chin. "I do like you, but not enough to warrant trying to smuggle an entire house worth of documents for you."

"Is there any other choice? If they find me, I will slaughter them all. Then vampires will come for you, as you allowed for this under your nose. Don't you own this region as property?"

"Are you my property too? For if they will come after me as you say, you would be under me. Otherwise they would come for you."

"They will never find me. Neither will you. I will bury myself for a decade and take Martin with me. And I will turn each and every last one of them before I do."

Reggie thought for a moment, sitting beside Martin as he tapped his hands on the stone bed. He gazed beyond them, around the room, anywhere but looking Vane in the eyes. "Vane… You are a dark soul, like me. We should marry, which would solve your problems, but you will not have me. Why."

"Why?"

"Yes, why? I mean, we have the dog," he said, gesturing at Martin. "You have power beyond imagination. And I have power beyond your specific imagination."

Vane lowered his gaze. "I am not marrying you. Never in either of our lifetimes."

"That is a very long time… But I will respect it until the next time." He knocked on Martin's head, which had him wake. "If you will not marry me, will you give me a thrall? There is a particular breed of man I want to tie to my wall in my chambers."

"We are monsters of mankind, but we do not need to be like a field vampire, now," Vane said as he crossed his arms. "And, beside that, I cannot give you my own thralls."

"Very well," he sighed. "Come, then, when you will. I suppose you want to get your things and have me take you to a new home, as you said. I will allow you to once more grace my halls."

"Grace the halls of my own house, you mean," Vane smiled as he walked off. "You know whose influence owns the hall of my manor."

"Your manor… Well, my manner is what owns that manor, I'll have you know, and those who live in that house will have nothing to do with you."

Part 3:

The things that Vane let this man do… Martin had to carry all the things inside, as Reggie wasted no time with toting Vane all over the house. It was Vane's original home as a vampire, but Reggie took it over just fine. There was artwork, modern furniture and other pieces. Some things were of the kind that he never even considered. He was not unfamililar with video, for example, but he belonged to the cinema of old. The television above the mantle showed an old movie that was popular when he was young. Yet it was… different.

Even when he was done being marveled by his past and what was done to it, Reggie would not give him space. His hands remained around him and his personal space, or he just implored him to try a certain food or look at a hallway. Once he even tried to nip at his neck, which earned him a quick scratch on the face.

Finally, when it was daytime, Reggie had decided to leave him to rest while he went out for a walk in the morning air.

"Master," Martin muttered, tugging at the blanket on the bed as he crawled in beside him.

"Hm?" Vane turned to Martin, who sat up in bed looking around at the walls. "When did we leave? I don't… remember. Why?"

"I fed on you as Reggie took us. I wanted you drowsy, but I must have failed." He ran his fingers across Martin's bite on his neck. "How are you?"

"Why are we here, Master Vane?"

"We are at my… hm… my lover's home. Does that suffice?"

"Where is… your lover? Who is it?" Martin tilted his head down under the heavy curtains, bearing only a sliver of light into the room as he peeked out the windows. "I do not know of this place… Are you sure?"

"Naturally. We will be married soon… At least, that is what is likely. You and I will stay here for a long time, so I want you to eventually get comfortable with my friends that live here, too."

Martin frowned. "You were fighting back at… the other home. You said you did not want to get married."

"A lover's quarrel. And besides, I can't go against him in the end. I am more powerful than he, but he is more powerful than my power. This is my house, something I own and want to reside in, so I returned. Is that so strange?"

"No, sir." Martin said, gingerly leaning against Vane's side. "When are you getting married, if that is what is to happen?"

"Someday… in the future. I don't make the date."

When he settled down enough, he turned to Martin and pulled his collar down. "He wants me to make more thralls, can you imagine? That monster was ruined by power when I bought the house…" Vane smiled. "He made a horrid butler, you know. I should have bit him when I could."

Vane pushed his hair back and wiped at his gums as he drew his fangs. "Stay still for me," he commanded, smiling for just one moment before he bit him.

But Martin took him by the throat first, a gentle push away. "Master, wait. Do you want me to protect you?"

Vane stopped mid-bite, almost closing his mouth. "Protect me? What…"

"I want to be a vampire… And I will still serve you, I promise, but…"

"You can never protect me," Vane hissed, biting down with more force than necessary.

Martin grabbed him back, gently easing him away. "Please… let me protect you…" he hissed under the bite, his eyes becoming hazy as he felt his breathing grow heavier. "M…m…"

Before he knew it, Martin was sleeping in his arms, to which he left him alone to rest.

"That wasn't nice of you," whispered another person from the doorway. At the sound of the voice, Vane's eyes opened wide.

"Ferrow! Out, now!" he snapped, getting up from the bed and clutching the young man around the neck.

"Master… It is good to see you."

"You are supposed to be dead, like I left you to wait. Why are you alive again? I told you better than that." Vane grabbed under his collar, inspecting the series of bites all up the sides of his collarbone. "What have they done with you to make you wake so soon?"

"Master Vane… the 'other' Vane… he said he got a letter and you would want to see me…"

Vane wasted no time in biting him again, this time exposing the scalp and biting into the flesh near the end of the spine. His fangs bit very shallow, but the effect was immediate.

Ferrow let himself fall against the wall, mumbling to himself as he slid down to the floor. "Master… Vane…"

"When you wake up, you will only be loyal to me. Do I make myself clear?"

Ferrow let out a whimper before he fell asleep. When he did, Vane placed him on Reggie's couch in the living room.

Martin stumbled down the stairs. "Master?… You left the… the room?"

"This is Ferrow," Vane interrupted. "You will speak and play with him like a brother. Is that clear?"

Martin did not respond. He stared wide eyed at the man on the couch from where he braced himself against the railing.

"Very well," Vane said, grabbing his hand and leading him over to him. "Rest, now. It is the dead of day."

Part 4

Ferrow swept the floor while he cooked meals and seamlessly spoke to Martin at the same time. Meanwhile, Martin was clumsy and seemed tuned into two different lives at once.

"Your name is Martin. My name is Ferrow," said Ferrow. "Our master is Master Vane, and not Master Georgis Vane."

"Georgis… is that the one with the dark hair?" Martin said over a cup of water.

"Yes. He has been waiting every day and tinkering in the house section by section for about twelve years. I worked under him without saying a word the entire time, but now my Master is back."

"Where did he go?"

"I do not know. He abandoned the house and had attacked me and stolen the blood from my body before he did."

"Truly? How did you revive, then? You should be dead."

Ferrow smiled. "I am very much dead. But Georgis Vane brings things to life. I think that is why he looked at me like that."

"Georgis?"

"No, our Master Vane. When he made you lose consciousness for that moment in your shared room. Which, by the way, would be Master… um… Master Georgis' room."

Martin tilted his head to the side. "Master is to be married, he said. But he is being married to someone who wants to hurt him."

"Master Georgis would never hurt Master Vane. Push the thought from your mind. Even if they wanted to hurt each other, they couldn't lay a finger on the other. Our master has extreme political standing with the kin of good taste, and Master Georgis has magic that makes him untouchable."

"Mhm…" Martin downed the rest of his water and began to raid the cabinets. "What do you eat here?"

"You are hungry? I just served you a moment ago."

"No… well, yes, but… It's a particular thing I need, I can't name it. I feel it in the back of my stomach."

"Oh, I see." Ferrow came over at once and bore his arm out for him. With an ultra-precise slash, he drew just the thinnest trail of blood across his arm without even a wince. "Try. I think this will soothe you."

Martin hesitated as he watched Ferrow take his other hand and catch the blood that dripped freely. The man had no expression of pain, and he felt bad enough that he decided to lean in. When he did, Ferrow must have sensed his hesitation. He took his arm and forced it closer to him.

"For a spawn, you are very uncoordinated," Ferrow chuckled. "It comes with time, but you act as if you haven't done this before."

Martin, who had been so reluctant, suddenly grabbed at Ferrow and all but pulled him down. He held his mouth across the wound, suckling like a mewling kitten at even just this bit of tainted and still blood. Ferrow braced himself against his shoulder, watching the door.

"You have done this before, haven't you?" Ferrow whispered as he took his arm after a time.

"Give me," he rasped, crashing into Ferrow's chest as Ferrow stands taller to catch him. "No, Ferrow.."

"Quiet. I see now." Ferrow tilted his head backward into the light, gently lifting his upper lip just a little. "You have no fangs. That is quite unusual… Master Vane is holding you in a state. Why?"

"Why…? …No.. just…!" Martin tried to fight against Ferrow, but Ferrow held him steady. He let go of his jaw, however, but moved to look at his neck.

"I could complete it myself… but Master Vane would kill me once again if I tried…" Ferrow narrowed his eyes and let him go. "You're a lucky man in that I have been alive so long. I will help you, Martin. Will you accept that help?"

"…Yes, but what do you mean? What could you complete?"

"I am a vampire. If I turned you, you would become a vampire. But a spawn can only make more spawns for Master, as far as Vane's bloodline is concerned…"

"Turn me," Martin whispered closely. "I'll do anything."

"Then ask Master."