The Anatomy of Vampires: Volume 1 by Alistair Vlain Page A

know you’re afraid to put your work into the hands of monsters. But you really must—”
    “And how do I know you are not one of them, or working for them, or sent here to trick me into handing over this most valuable information?” I muttered, continuing to pack my things and adorn my coat.
    She looked slightly insulted, her eyebrows furrowing over her glasses and then said, “No, my son. But I do believe I have a keen understanding of right and wrong. There are still many things out there that you do not know exist. There are still many secrets and souls who are in grave danger. And I was taught to believe if someone needs your help, and you’re in the position to help them, then you’d better.”
    I stopped moving. The stern look in her soft, blue eyes suggested her sincerity. I nodded. “I’m not ready to open the letter yet, sister. But when I do, I swear to you, I will do everything in my power to do what is right.”

 
     
     
Chapter Eight
     
    Dark Secrets
     
     
    “A thing such as magic is an endless frontier of question, knowledge, secret, and truth. Even the light at times seems dangerous and thorny, but we proceed.”
    ~Maldimor Foulhorn, a Phaser and scholar
     
    It was months later I finally felt I was able and ready to open the mysterious Vampire’s parchment letter. I journeyed through cities and countries, on trains and in carriages. I spoke to many a creature. I took many a note, filling the pages of my book. And all the while, the strange letter from the strange man was burning a hole in my pocket. But I needed his warnings. I did not open it, until I felt my work was done, though in truth, the knowledge was never-ending.
    It must have been damned near eight months later I finally sat down, alone with my thoughts, and the continuingly worsening pain at the side of my throat. I thought back to the man in the tavern near Mae’s Massage Parlor. The scar he had at the side of this neck. Mine was beginning to look like his—red and inflamed.
    With my nearly filled journal and in the company of dust and loneliness in a dingy inn room, my mind and stomach turned in an old motel room by the sea. The foghorns blared early in the morning paired with the dinging of the bells, signaling the arrivals of the fish boats. It was there I tracked a most interesting creature—one I hadn’t heard much about before, but fleetingly in casual conversation with a rogue Phaser. Most of my friends had become the disguised people of the Occult, but I digress.
    There, by the docks, the Phaser had told me of creatures who possessed the voices of angels, though the flesh of something most sinister. “You’d do well to keep away from the waters, lad,” he warned. Late at night, as I was closest to dreaming, I could hear the ethereal sounds of women singing among the crashing waves. Sirens, he called them. Devilish beings who fed on the flesh of mortals. They live hidden deep within the tides. It had been a few weeks since I’d made any sort of breakthrough with the truths about the Regime, the Vampires, and what would eventually come to pass. In the absence of any revelations, I decided to go ahead and investigate these rare and dangerous creatures. For perhaps, they might lead me to another piece of the puzzle. Or so was my logic.
    I was sitting with silence on the flimsy decaying mattress. I’d just come up from the bar, and my liver was doused in gin. It was just enough to take away some of my fears about finally going down to the docks to explore. But before my courage was completely mustered, I recalled the lingering letter. Pulling it from my coat pocket, it felt just as real and dangerous in my hands as it did the night I received it. I turned it over and over again, recalling the words spoken to me by the cursed man. I realized, perhaps in a drunken stupor, that everybody who was mortal died. Everybody had their time. Eventually, mine would come also. And so I decided finally, it was the time to open and