Part 1

I can’t remember how long Ive been living this unlife, but I do remember hearing about the inquisition beginning on one of my first journeys, so that would make me more than 775 years of age. Being kindred and living through the inquisition seems to quite an accomplishment these days.
I opened my eyes to behold what I had done. She was dead, very dead. I dont know why I had done it… The night before I had gotten all the blood I wanted from a young beautiful woman, so it wasnt the marvelous taste of blood that drove me it was something else, something else that drove me to brutally murder that woman, or should I say: rip apart, it was difficult to tell whether she was ripped, cut or even bitten apart.
The last thing I remembered were my teeth puncturing the skin of her neck, and her blood flowing softly down my throat in short bursts, following the rhythmic pounding of her heart… I must now state how exquisite and sensual a sensation it is to feel the blood of kin leave their body, and almost leaping into your mouth, as if it longs to leave their weak bodies.
As you must have realized, I enjoy feasting on the blood of kin. I take it very seriously; you might say my behavior when eating is bordering on ritualistic, which, actually, is the perfect description for the preparations I make.
Before each of my dinners I make a comprehensive background check of the victim, making sure that theyve had a good, safe upbringing, a good education, and, preferably, a less extensive prison record. All those things may seem useless and/or unnecessary to a mere mortal, but to a kindred, it means everything, for those things can result in better quality blood, which means more time between feedings, which results in more time to find the good blood.
I would never kill an innocent person, but if I find out that a person has done something absolutely horrible, like killing or raping someone, their friends and relatives will be able to read about their untimely death in the obituaries. This, however, is a rare thing, as it raises unnecessary attention.
But now, the story must go on!
As I said I never kill kin, at least not the innocent, so the thought that I would have done so, was preposterous.
I knew that something was wrong, now I just had to find out what.
I had no idea where to start, until I looked around me again, and saw the carnage I had caused. That had to be dealt with before I could continue the search for truth.
About an hour later, I had finished the cleaning, not a single drop of blood had been left behind, (in all my years, I had become quite skillful at cleaning up in a hurry.)
During my cleaning I thought of a way to get, at least, a little closer to the truth: My personal library.
As I calmly stepped into my apartment, I took of my suede coat and smoothly laid it on the luxurious chair. There was no reason to throw my coat; after all it was my favorite coat, given to me by a dear friend about 150 years ago.
As I entered my library, I took a deep breath, smelling all the scents in the air… Oh, how I love the smell of old books, it really takes me back to the old days… But enough of that, I really had to get to the bottom of the problem at hand.
Although I myself had written many of these books, I could barely remember half of them, so I though I could look there for inspiration.
As I read some of my books, I saw theory after theory about what we really are.
In a period of time I wondered if we were a decease, a blood born virus of some sort. That must have been in my depressed period, I thought, and I must have been fairly young, since I hadnt given it more consideration, because if it was a disease, someone definitely would have found a cure, or at least an antidote.
In one of my later books I, apparently, was under the influence of Mr. Charles Darwin, since my theory then was: evolution. That we were the next link in the chain of life, but I ran into an obstacle: Evolution cant be forced, or given.
The most credible theory I came up with, was not my theory, but just old superstition. Our blood has a curse, a curse placed upon our forefather Cain, by God, as a punishment for slaying his brother Abel out of rage.
After reading just about every book in my library, (just the relevant ones, Im not a fool,) I fell upon the prophecy of Gehenna, where the ancients will rise and consume kindred and kin alike; that part had no relevancy, but the fact that it said the ancients and Cain had the ability to control the blood of their children, that part intrigued me. Could I have been a victim of ancient manipulation? Could all these years I spend on strengthening my mind, have been a complete waste? Could it really be that we can be left with no control what so ever, just because someone older than us wants us to? Does it all just come down to blood?
If this was so, I was technically not guilty of slaying that young woman, but that doesn’t mean that I didnt do it… I killed her.