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A new nation. A new race. A new destiny.

T hey are making a noise upstairs . Lots of noises, actually. Loud thumping ones from the music, sharp cracking ones from the firearms, and other, smaller, more desperate noises that come from the hunger they are now feeling.

Of course, I know the world above my bunker is filled with halfbreeds. And I’ve been perfectly OK with this since Lucia started collecting them, but that’s because I never thought I’d actually have to deal with them myself. Not like this.

But—I sigh, resigned to my fate—it is what it is.

I straighten up, then turn to face the side of my cavern that leads to the bunker. I am leaving. Something I have not done in a very long time. Years. Probably decades, at this point, but I haven’t been keeping track.

Halfbreeds. What a nuisance.

However, they are part of the plan. One of them, at least. Otherwise Paul would not have tolerated them.

Paul is… missing. Kind of. I’m really not sure what happened during Ryet’s ascension—he didn’t come back with my promised blood, so something happened—but that blood was for storage and experiments. It wasn’t anything necessary for my present objective.

Paul does not require a babysitter and I am not about to spend time worrying about him. He can figure it out himself.

Ryet and the little witch have gone east to his home. A home Paul provided him. A safe haven where Ryet can retreat and have space to think. All part of the plan and, like the whereabouts of Paul, none of my concern.

I have one goal now and I am focused.

I come out of the bunker and enter Paul’s bedroom, stopping short in front of a full-length mirror. It’s one thing to see your reflection in a rippling dark pool of water and quite another to get all the details presented to you in glass coated with silver.

I am dirty and naked. My hair is a darker blond, than I remember but the body is in good shape for my age. I’m still tall and muscular, but in a lean way. Attractive.

Of course, all vampires have this look once they master the monster stage. We all end up pretty much the same. Different versions of this. Paul is a special shade of beautiful, but that’s another story for another time.

We are in the middle of the greatest ascension in history. If we pull it off, and there is no reason to think that we won’t at this point, we will change the world. Every last inch of it.

Ryet was the bottleneck. Getting a scion to transform into a vampire with only two fathers was a feat. There were many mistakes and it took us hundreds of years, but here we are.

The birth of a new nation. A new race. A new destiny.

The American Vampires.

I shower, and when this is done , I walk over to the door, still naked and still wet, and open it up.

The thumping of music has been non-stop for weeks already. But once the door is open, it’s much louder than I can stand. So I close my eyes, find the vibration, follow it backwards to the source, and then cut the power.

The lodge goes quiet for a moment, but then the protests from the halfbreeds fill in the silence. They are yelling and screaming for someone to turn the music back on.

I open my eyes and find a young woman with pink hair standing in front of me. Her eyes are wide and blue, her mouth open in shock. She blinks. “My… lord?”

“If you insist.”

Her brow furrows. “What?”

“I will be your lord if you insist.”

“Are you… Josep?”

“I am. Who told you about me?”

“Ryet. I called him. Paul is missing. Did you know? Do you know where he is?”

“We don’t need to concern ourselves with Paul at the moment. He can take care of himself. What we need to do… what is your name?”

“Echo.”

“What we need to do, Echo, is release these halfbreeds.”

“Release? I don’t understand.”

Echo has a very appealing face and I am pleased that she is the halfbreed waiting outside Paul’s door. It feels like a reward. “No, Echo. You were not meant to understand. You were made to obey. Will you obey me?”

She nods her head enthusiastically. Then bows it and falls to her knees, pressing her forehead onto my bare feet. “I’m at your service, my lord.”

“Of course you are, Echo. You have no choice in the matter. Now get up. We have a lot to do before we can leave.” I take her back in the bedroom and motion to the bed. “Have a seat.”

She looks at the bed, then at me—eyes falling down my body to my cock, then back to the bed—only then meeting my eyes again.

“Don’t be a fool. I am not interested in having sex with you, Echo. You are not my type. But you need to feed, do you not?”

Echo blinks at me. And I can see the greed in her eyes. Halfbreeds don’t need the blood. Normally. But if they’ve been feeding on it—and she has, it was planned that way—then they do crave it something terrible. It’s an addiction.

“Go on,” I encourage her. “Lie down. This feeding, it’s going to take a little while. So you might as well get comfortable.” Then I turn, close the door, and by the time I turn back, she’s on the bed. Flat on her back, eyes already begging for that blood.

She will do anything for it.

I walk over to the bed, lie down next to her, and turn onto my side so I can see her better. I consider making myself at home with her body. Stroking her a little. Making her moan. But there’s no time. I bite the fleshy part of my palm and put it up to her lips. The moment she tastes my blood, she is gone.

Not dead. Just somewhere else. A place called Bliss, I suppose.

As she drinks, I let my thoughts wander back to Paul and our history together.

It was his idea to make Syrsee for Ryet to feed on specifically. It took decades to collect the right blood to breed her. We were hunting down the donors for more than a century. There were many clans of Black witches in America when we arrived, but they were well hidden in the native tribes. They did things differently than in the Old World and it took us a while to form our own little coven to use as breeding stock. We needed genetics from all over the continent. We went up as far as the Arctic and as far south as we could without impinging on the territory of the Amazonian vampires.

Every Black witch we had was used to make Syrsee’s genetics. And once we had that, we made Ryet. This was a much more difficult task than making Syrsee. We used one of our most precious Black witches as a surrogate and it didn’t exactly go as planned. She was not going to make it through her third trimester, so we tried something very unconventional to save the experiment—we turned her halfbreed and fed her our blood until Ryet could be born.

This had never been done before and so we were not sure if he was the one.

Not until now, that is.

It worked. And it worked beautifully.

But Ryet’s ascension is just the first phase of the plan.

There is much, much more to come.

Echo stops drinking and when I look down at her, she’s completely unconscious. But I don’t require her to be conscious for what comes next, so I lean over, place my mouth on her neck, wait until I can feel the pulsing of her blood through her jugular, and then I bite her and drink.

Her blood is bitter and I pull back, letting it drip out of my mouth and onto her neck. It’s been so long since I had to kill a halfbreed, I guess I’d forgotten how bad they taste. Almost as bad as a pureblood human.

But it’s the only way, so I press my mouth back onto her neck and take her blood, sucking it out of her as fast as I can, just to get it over with.

Minutes later, she is drained, and pale, and limp. But this process is just getting started. I don’t bother trying to rouse her, she’s gone. I just bite the palm of my hand and let my blood drip into her mouth.

After a minute or so, she stirs. Moaning.

My reply to this is a whisper, low and sweet. “You’re fine. Just keep still for another moment now.”

I doubt she can hear me, but she doesn’t try to wriggle away when I lean into her neck and take another bite.

This time she tastes a little less sour. Not good, by any means, but it’s better than it was on the first round. After I’ve drained her a second time, she is much more eager to drink me back. And after the fifth round of performing this little ritual she tastes almost as good as Lucia once did.

At this point, I know I’m done. I’ve always compared Lucia’s blood to a weird appetizer served at an elite party, something meant to spur conversation, if only to discuss how gross it is. So Echo’s blood—while better than it was when we started—is by no means tasty.

And I have halfbreeds to kill.

I pick her up and leave the bedroom. There are many people downstairs and they stare up at me as I descend, looking confused.

One of them—a tall man with many tattoos—opens his mouth like he is going to speak. “No,” I say, looking right at him. “You will not talk to me. I am not interested.” My gaze sweeps around the room, and as I do this, they all go silent.

I have pushed the mute button on the whole lot of them. That’s what Paul once called my power of silence. That was decades ago now. But the name stuck in my mind for some reason. So ‘mute button’ will go down in vampire history.

A chuckle escapes as I picture future generations of American Vampires learning their history and how they will snicker at the name of this power I will pass on to them. Mute button. How fun.

I paid a pretty price for the mute button but in this particular moment, it still feels worth it.

“I have a present for you.” I declare this loudly to all the halfbreeds around me, my voice echoing off the high wood-beamed ceilings. “Her name is Echo. Do you know her?”

Of course, they can’t answer me. The mute button is still very much pressed. But it was a rhetorical question anyway. Of course they know her.

I walk to the center of the foyer and set Echo down on the wood-planked floors. Then I look up at the halfbreeds that Lucia has been collecting since we arrived in the New World. None of these specific halfbreeds were there at the time. Their lifespan is only a few decades. But Lucia made them constantly. It was the gift the Darkness gave her. The only gift she had, so I can’t really blame her for using it.

“Are you hungry?” I ask them.

They nod, enthusiastically, and I can only imagine the noise they’d be making if I hadn’t rendered them silent. But they are anxious and eager for blood, so when I don’t immediately explain, they shuffle their feet, becoming restless as their gazes wander up to my neck.

“Oh, no. You have misunderstood. I will not be feeding you.” I point to the girl on the floor at my feet. “She will. But don’t worry and don’t make faces at me. I have given her some of my blood, so you will all get the proper dilution to ease your cravings and slip into bliss. How does that sound?”

I smile at them. Radiating warmth and compassion. Giving off a paternal vibe.

It’s all lies, of course.

Because this is how I’m going to kill them.

They begin to rush forward but I put up both my hands, palms out, and push them back as I turn in a circle. “Do not. Rush me. Do not touch me, do not look at me, do not do anything without permission. Do you understand?”

They do. Or probably not, actually. They are addicts seeking a fix. Since when do addicts understand anything but their own lust?

The power of compulsion is what I use to keep them away. Passed on to me through the blood, just as I will pass on the mute button. The important thing is, the halfbreeds do not rush in like a horde and rip little Echo to pieces.

I hold up a finger and point it at the zombie-like creatures in front of me. “One at a time. You.” I point to the one right in front of me. A woman, early thirties, maybe. Which makes her old compared to the rest, who all appear to be just a bit older than teenagers.

The woman comes forward, her eyes not on me now, but locked on Echo’s body. Her only thought in this moment is the blood.

I can relate. I was hungry like that at one time, as well. But never as a lowly halfbreed.

“Kneel,” I tell her. She does, looking up at me, practically salivating. “One. Sip. Do you understand me? One. There are dozens of others who need blood as well. If you are greedy, I will cut your head off. Do you understand me?”

She nods, but she’s not really agreeing. She’s not really capable of that. Not when the hunger is this bad. But I like giving them warnings like this so they know what to expect. I look at the rest of the horde and repeat my caution. “Do you all understand? One. Sip.”

They nod, or don’t. Doesn’t matter.

I return my attention to the woman kneeling at my feet in front of Echo and nod my head. “Proceed.”

The woman, whose face is gaunt but not ugly or evil-looking, attacks Echo’s neck with a ferocity that surprises even me. Three seconds pass and she’s already taken far more than just one sip. I reach out, grab her by the hair, fling her backwards into the crowd—which disperses in a disturbing silence—and then I reach down, grip her fragile throat in my hands, rip it out of her neck, and then, with my other hand, I pull her head off and drop it on the floor at the feet of a rough-looking man.

He’s still looking at the head when I speak. “You’re next.” He looks up at me, eyes wide. Blinking. “Do not take more than your share. Do you understand?”

This one nods yes as he looks me in the eyes. I have his full attention. The blood can wait. He’s listening for the rules.

“Good.” I pan my hand at Echo’s body. Part of her neck is missing and we’re just getting started. But one does what one must. “Proceed.”

This halfbreed is smarter, or better behaved, or has a much more developed sense of self-preservation than the last. Because he takes a deep breath as he approaches Echo, then lets it out slowly as he kneels down in front of her body.

He gives me one more glance, nods, and then bends down with his mouth open, going for the other side of Echo’s neck.

He bites, he sips, he stops. He remains absolutely still for a few moments, then looks up at me for approval. I nod, then point in a random direction. “You may wait in the…” I’ve never actually seen the finished house. My bunker was completed first, before the lodge renovation. So I take a guess. “The… dining room.” Surely, there must be one of those. Or something like it.

Surely. Because the man gets up, licking his lips—already craving that next drop—and stumbles off, deeper into the house.

“Very good. Who’s next?” If they could speak, they would be shouting and begging. This is why I silenced them in the first place. Well, one of the reasons, anyway. I’m not in the mood to hear their voices, but everything I do has multiple goals. So I point at another random man, snap my fingers in the direction of Echo’s body, and instruct him to repeat what he just saw.

When he’s done, I send him to the dining room as well.

I do this several more times before one finally comes back, waving their arms at the hungry, waiting horde. Trying to warn them.

Reason number two for the silencing. I don’t want them to be warned. This do-gooder came back from the dining room—probably because when she arrived there, she found a bunch of dead bodies. Perhaps they were sitting at a table, all slumped over? Or maybe they just fell face-forward onto the floor? Doesn’t matter. The point is, they are dead.

Because that is the whole purpose of this little ritual.

I’m not feeding them. I’m killing them.

However, despite the fact that this disruptor is unable to communicate through speaking, the horde—which still consists of several dozen halfbreeds—takes notice of her distress and begins to look at me with suspicion.

I don’t even bother caring. In fact, I take myself over to a leather-covered bench made of logs—Ryet’s handiwork, no doubt—and take a seat. I cross my legs and smile at them.

What will they do now? Come at me with vengeance?

No. They all understand that something is very wrong here. But Echo’s body has been bitten many times now. She’s bleeding onto the floor. The scent of it alone is enough to drive them mad. The only reason they’re still in control is because they think I will tear off their heads if I do not constrain themselves.

But now, with me seated, comfortable, seemingly uninterested in keeping order—along with the silent rage and caution, not to mention visible weakness and stumbling, of the halfbreed disruptor—they begin to care less and less about my threats as the seconds tick off.

What is happening, they ask?

They don’t know. They have no idea. All they know is that they need blood, there is blood in a body on the floor, there is a vampire with considerable power in charge, and there is a friend in some kind of distress.

It’s the distress that actually breaks the hold I have on them. Well, that and the fact that I’m sending off a vibe that I no longer care what they do.

And then there is a collective… pause . Where they do nothing, and don’t move or think. It lasts for about three seconds.

Then they all come to the same conclusion at once.

They need blood and everything that is happening in these moments is telling them that they might not get this blood.

This is why they attack Echo’s body on the floor.

And ‘attack’ really is the right word here. In less than a second, she is covered in halfbreeds. All of them trying their best to get a piece of her.

They take much, much more than a sip. And of course they do.

But the important thing is, as they’re doing this—as they’re in this feeding frenzy—they fail to notice how quickly the other others around them are dying off.

One sip of my blood—even diluted with Echo’s—is really all it takes to kill a halfbreed. That’s why I had to behead that first little rebel. If I had let her live for just a few more seconds, she would’ve died right in front of us.

That would’ve caused suspicion amongst the horde. Things could’ve gotten messy.

Not that they aren’t messy now. There are already at least thirty dead bodies strewn across the foyer floor and the blood, my God. It’s a wonder they ingested any at all, it’s just everywhere.

It takes another couple of minutes for the struggling and gasping to stop and the foyer to fall silent.

I get up and walk over to the center of the floor where I placed Echo less than ten minutes ago. I can’t even see her body at the moment, there are so many dead halfbreeds piled on top of her.

But I kick them off, drag them off, and finally find the pink-haired girl underneath.

She is in tatters. Literally. Her body looks like someone tried to flay her. Her eyes are dead and black. Her clothes ripped off. Bites all over her body.

I bend down, slip my arms underneath her, and pick her up. Then I carry her back upstairs.

When we get to Paul’s bedroom I don’t place her on the bed. I take her into the hallway that leads to my bunker. Her body flops as I descend back into my sacred underworld and the scent of dirt swirls around us.

When we get to the bunker the purple mist appears, billowing up from my feet as I walk forward into my cave.

I stop here, just past the threshold, and let out a breath. Happy to be home.

Then I kick the door closed behind me and the outside world disappears once again. In the new, comforting darkness I carry the ragged remains of Echo’s body over to the pool near the waterfall and descend into the water. I settle us on a flat rock ledge, keeping what’s left of her head above the water. Then I bite the palm of my hand and set it on top of the remains of her lips, letting the blood drip onto what’s left of her tongue.

It takes a while. I don’t keep track of time down here, but a good amount of it passes before she starts to show signs of life again.

Life, though? Is it life? It isn’t. She has not been a living thing since the day she was made. Still, it’s all she has.

She can’t die, not the way the halfbreeds did in the foyer. Because she had an exchange with me and they didn’t. The exchange is what matters. It’s how you create things, it’s how you change things, it’s how you do everything in the world of vampires.

All those halfbreeds did was drink poison. I am poison. Perhaps they could’ve drunk Ryet the way they probably drank Lucia on occasion, because Ryet is new and his blood is still developing. Lucia was never a vampire. She and Syrsee share some similarities, but Syrsee is a pure Black witch. Lucia is the equivalent of a witch-vampire halfbreed and her blood is not poison to her little minions.

She was also giving them blood from the feeder. A no-no in our world—our old world, the one across the ocean. But this was part of Paul’s plan, or else he would’ve stopped it.

He didn’t like the fact that she did it, especially when he was not directing it, but ultimately, he didn’t push back much. It was, after all, necessary to create this moment with Echo right now.

She stirs in my arms. Her skin—all of her skin—is still tattered, but even as I watch the skin begins to mend. She will not remember what happened. Not directly. So she will have some peace. This is how I’m going to repay her for doing me the favor of killing Lucia’s horde.

There is a chance that her memory of the ritual will come back, but I doubt she will live that long. I can’t let her die, not yet. She has yet another job to do for us.

But once that is done she will be on her way to Hell.

As I’ve been thinking this her body has been repairing itself. And by the time I’m done, she is looking much, much better. Still more deathlike than lifelike, but she’s making progress.

I resituate her in my lap so I can swipe the hair out of her eyes. I like to watch the life come back into them. Also, her eyes will turn color. They were blue, but they are not blue now, nor will they ever be blue again. They will be orange or yellow, or something in between.

She stirs again. A good sign. And then, abruptly, she’s back. Eyes fly open—gold, very nice—and she gasps. Her lips are a luscious pink color, her pale cheeks become flushed and rosy right before my eyes, and her hair—which was pink and cut into a bob before the horde tore it from her scalp—grows back right before my eyes. Long, then longer. And not pink, since that was not her natural color. It’s more gold than blonde, just like her eyes.

I smile down at her. “Welcome back, little baby.”

Echo is sitting next to me in the pool of water now. She’s mostly naked, but not entirely. What’s left of her clothes hangs on her upper arms and around her waist. She’s staring straight ahead at the waterfall, saying nothing. She has not quite come to terms with things just yet.

But she will. She has no choice, really. She will accept what happened, though she won’t remember it. And she will move on and proceed to live out the rest of her life, which will be short.

“What—” This single word of hers comes out as a croak. She coughs and clears her throat. Tries again. “What happened?”

“They attacked you.”

“What?” She turns her body to look at me. “Who?”

“The horde, of course. Lucia’s minions.”

“They—” She squints her eyes. “They attacked me?” She’s making a face of severe confusion.

“They did.”

“But… why? I don’t understand.” Now she’s shaking her head. “I was very popular. Everything was under control. We were?—”

“Little baby.” I turn towards her and place my hand against her cheek, gently stroking it with my fingertips. Her skin has healed nicely. Spectacularly, actually. She looks like a little porcelain doll. “They were addicts. Who can predict the behavior of addicts?”

She’s still squinting her beautiful golden eyes. My blood really made nice improvements on this one. I’m actually impressed with myself. She’s… well, ‘spectacular’ really is the only word for her. “But… we were going to…” She can’t finish her sentence because she can’t remember.

“We were going to release them, Echo? Do you recall when I said that to you?”

She shakes her head no. And of course she doesn’t. Because I never said that to her, and even if I did, she would not be able to remember it.

“I, since I am old, and a vampire, and contain the power of the Darkness inside me—I could release them from this blood lust they had.”

Which is not even a lie, when you think about it. I did release them. From… life. This thought delights me, causing me to internally chuckle.

“They are… dead?”

I nod at her. “They are, little baby. I’m very sorry if they were friends of yours. But they attacked you.”

“Why?”

“Because I fed you, remember? You had my blood inside you and… well, they wanted it. They were eating you. When I killed them.”

“That’s…” Her face scrunches up as she finds my eyes. “That’s gross .”

“It certainly is. But it’s over now.”

She blows out a breath. Then looks up at me. “Well, what’s next?”

“We need to find Paul.”

This makes her happy. She even smiles. “Yes! We do! I really, really need to find Paul.”

I furrow my brow. “Do you love him?”

“Uhhhhh…” She makes a face of uncertainty. “Well, I’m not sure about that, but I do like him. And he’s nice to me. And… I miss him. He disappeared from the castle room.” She makes a vague motion with her finger pointing up. “Do you know what happened to him?”

“Lucia, that’s what happened to him. And Syrsee, I imagine.”

“The woman? The one they were feeding on?”

“Yes. Her. She’s rather important in the grand scheme of things. But don’t worry. We’ll catch up to her later. Paul comes first.”

“Will we punish her?” I do believe that I detect some hope in Echo’s question. She certainly is loyal to Paul.

“It’s a nice thought, isn’t it? But don’t get your hopes up. As I said, she’s important. Also powerful. So if you ever come up against her, don’t challenge her to a fight. She’s a little bit dumb, I imagine, as she was kept ignorant on purpose.” I take a moment to stroke Echo’s cheek here. Because she is rather ignorant as well. “But she’s capable of hurting us, little baby. Even without the knowledge of how to do so.”

“OK. But how do we find Paul?”

“We will have to look in the mist, of course.” When I say this word Echo looks up at the mist that floats all around us. “Yes,” I tell her. “That mist. But not this literal mist. Not here, in this cavern. We must go deeper into the dirt where the mist comes from. There are pathways under the earth.”

“Like tunnels?”

“Y…yes. Sure. Like tunnels.” I smile down at her. “Once we find these tunnels, they will take us places. Places where Paul might be.”

“Will he be OK?”

“I’m sure he will. He’s Paul, after all. Quite a powerful monster.”

“If he’s so powerful, then why can’t he find his way back? Why is he lost? And how did he get down in those tunnels?”

I hold up fingers so I can tick off answers to each question. “It’s complicated. The mist is deceptive. And I already told you—Lucia and the little witch did some magic on him.”

“What happens then?”

“Then?”

“After we find Paul in the tunnels?”

“Then…” I pause to smile as I picture what actually comes next. “Then… a new nation. A new race. A new destiny.”

She doesn’t understand, but that’s OK. I stand up in the water, extending my hand down to her. She hesitates, but only for a moment. Then she places her fingers across my palm and squeezes her hand, helping her rise.

Since she is mostly naked, and since she has taken my blood—quite a lot of it now—her breasts are a sight to behold. I let my gaze linger on them. Then down between her legs where there is a bit of blonde fuzz to entice me. “I would like to fuck you, but I’m afraid there’s no time.”

She scoffs. Like she wants to point out that she wasn’t offering herself up. But she knows better and leaves it at that.

We walk towards the back of my cavern together. She’s still fairly amicable, but when we arrive at the entrance to a tunnel that glows with a lavender mist, she hesitates. “Now where are we going?”

“Into the earth, little baby. I’ve explained this.” I grab a hold of her arm—just in case—and tug her into a passageway where, at the end, there is a large tapestry covering the wall of rock.

When we get there, I keep a hold of her with one hand and use the other to pull the tapestry away, revealing a dark hole in the side of the earth.

“What’s in there?” She’s facing the hole, nearly under the threshold, when she says this. So her question bounces off the ceiling of the new cavern.

“Our destination, love.”

I push her forward and she stumbles, then turns, trying to get past me. I grab her, hard, and push her up against the wall. “I just explained to you that you’re coming with me. There is no way out, little baby. None at all. So stop. Because if you resist, you will piss me off .” This last part comes out mean, almost a growl. “You’re not going to die. You’re already dead. And I will be with you every step of the way.” I reach down, making her flinch, and swipe a strand of hair away from her sweaty face. “Do you understand?”

Echo forces herself to take a deep breath, then nods her head as she presses her lips together. She’s terrified. And she should be.

Because while I will be with her every step of the way, we will certainly be parting ways once we arrive at our destination.

She must read my mind because she makes one last attempt to get around me. But this time I am forceful and committed. I grab her wrists, spin her around, and then shove her forward.

She screams when she realizes there’s no earth under her feet. And I have just enough time to grab her tight around the middle, and unfurl my wings, before we start falling.

With the wings comes the transformation. It creeps across my skin like a spider weaving a web of death. Turning it blue-black. Making my teeth grow into long, sharp fangs, and claws appear at the end of my hands and feet.

This is why I didn’t bother putting on clothes.

When one goes into the dirt, one must become one’s self.