Rouge de Sang: Chapter 1

Chapter 1.

“Fair peace becomes men; ferocious anger belongs to beasts.” – Ovid

Jamaica, Queens, NY May 17th, 2004


It was mid-day; the sun was gleaming at its highest zenith in the sky. Julien made his way on foot to the work center across town. He didn’t like the feel of the sun on his face; his skin was thinner and more translucent then the most fragile piece of tissue. He burned very easily, and whenever he was exposed to the sun for more then a few minutes he felt it. His eyes would strain and his skin would become smoldering to the point of being hot to the touch. It was cool inside the office, just the way he liked it. As he neared the front desk his eyes darted at the young secretary; he immediately noticed her bright wavy blond hair, and her silky dark skin, perpetrating out of the sides of her hair were two long, mucronate elfish ears. She fit the description of a pointu, automatically deeming her an enemy.

Julien knew the elf had already figured him out by the way her welcoming smile faded into antagonistic scowl. She strained to see inside of his mouth, hoping to discover a pair of jagged canines, but her attempts failed when Julien smiled fiendishly – showing off a perfect set of dazzling straight edged teeth. Of course he’d remembered to file them down; he thought it ill-minded to go out during the day with his fangs brandishing his mysterious existence. ‘No I’m not that stupid.’ He though to himself as he smiled at the secretary. "Hello sir. Welcome to Queens Workforce Career Center. What is you're first and last name?" she asked in a monotone sequence. Julien smiled at her discomfort and answered. “Julien Mendez."


Julien left the stiffness of the work center and walked to his favorite bar. He found it to be a relaxing place of comfort and conveniently right next door to his apartment. He had spent several hours doing his paperwork at the work center, considering he’d just lost his old job; he needed employment, and fast. It took him another hour to walk all the way to the bar, and by this time the sky was an orange-purple color and much more dimmed then it had been earlier.

Onlhar could already sense the half-breed as he entered the bar; he fidgeted in his barstool until turning his head curiously to scan the face of the newcomer. He turned back around and took a sip from his drink, placing it down with a sigh. Julien took in the scent of the bar. Most people would pick up the sweet smell of spice rum, or smoggy scent of cigarette smoke, however, Julien sensed only the contrasting aromas of blood in each of the people near him. To him, it felt as though each heart beat delegated from their chests and into the floorboards, where his feet picked up the motion and vibrated every so often. Julien turned toward the bar and sat down next to Onlhar who was already eyeing him intensively.

As Julien sat he felt rage pulse through him, he was suddenly overcome in anger. He leaned over and rested his head in his hand, rubbing his burning temple with his fingers. “Can I get a napkin please?” Julien asked the red-headed bartender in annoyance. He wanted to rid the droplets of sweat on his brow which were beginning to form. "Make that two." The young man on the left of Julien spoke up; breaking the silence of the ambient surroundings. Julien looked up then back down in disinterest. "The names Onlhar, You?" The voice rang in Julien’s ear causing his headache to strengthen. He knew now why he'd gotten such a surge of pain as soon as he walked into the bar. ‘Too many pointu's for one day.’ he thought. Játékos or "pointu's" for slang, were the only real things that could kill a vampire without a stake to the heart. Sworn enemies for thousands of years, játékos and vampires seem to overpopulate the world and live together in some sort of "harmony." Even if Julien didn't have any hatred toward a certain Pointu, he'd fill with rage whenever he came across one... some sort of Vampire "instinct." He'd try to avoid them as much as possible; however they seem to be popping up out of no where.

“Julien." He said bitterly, taking his napkin and wiping his entire face with it. Onlhar smiled mischievously and took his napkin and pattered at the sides of his mouth. Onlhar’s features were very juvenile, his hair was dark and choppy and his skin tone was uncanny for a pointu. It radiated a warm but subtle off-yellow hue. Most pointu’s had a deep copper or sepia tone. "You seem like you haven’t hunted in awhile." He said placing his napkin on the counter and staring into Julien’s dark hungry eyes.


*

“Name is a fence and within it you are nameless.” - Samuli Paronen


Seathwaite, The Lake District, Britain October 23rd, 1768


It was six years since his abandonment, the exigency to know the answer as to why she had done it, haunted Elijah. But it had escaped his mind for the most part, only showing up when he was feeling melancholy; which was most of the time. Life in the clan was rough, training all day, and working all night. Sleep was scarce; however, Berusai had told him and the other boys they wouldn’t have to worry about that soon. They couldn’t quiet fathom what he had meant by that. Berusai was one of the top trainers in Frăţie de la Liliac. Frăţie de la Liliac was the real name for the ‘clan’. The boys were perplexed by his anomalous strength and exceptional agility, let alone he had the stamina of a bull. The man’s physique seemed to be built from the ground up, when he stood erect; he resembled a sturdy tree in almost every aspect. As though his legs grew straight out of the dense, callow earth he stood upon. His skin, the same pale white as almost every elder in the clan and his eyes were almost always a piercing bright azure. The color changed. His eyes could one day be a dull, deep cerulean; the next a mirror like dazzling blue. It all depended on the length of time since he’d last eaten.

This day was special for the young boys, mostly for Josiah – the eldest.
It was the day of végtelen kor – endless age. Berusai had told them that this would be Josiah’s final birthday. ‘His final birthday’ Elijah thought. ‘It reminds me of death.’ There was another ritual though, it was just as important for all four boys; the celebration only happened every ten years. They called it éjjeli de név. Berusai explained to them that éjjeli de név was meant to rid the soul of foul and un-sought memories and strengthen their most concentrated trait. Both Nikolai and Thaddeus held fearful opinions on the upcoming event, Elijah however, was merely curious. He was only sixteen at the time, but he held no fears… no fears that he knew of.

Elijah had becoming exceptionally close to his younger companion, Nikolai. The two boys were only a year apart, Nikolai being fifteen. They agreed on most everything they talked about, not that there was much to talk about. Nikolai could at least hold a conversation unlike Thaddeus, who would end up drifting off into an endless slumber in mid-conversation, and Josiah; who wouldn’t even let the other speaker get a word in as he bantered on about himself in a narcissistic sort of way.
Elijah and the other boys lived in a small cottage by the river in the middle of Lake District, England. The place was un-chartered, and undisturbed. The boys didn’t have any sort of contact with anyone other then Berusai, and occasionally Eleanor Williams from across the river that owned the cottage and befriended Berusai many years before.

Éjjeli de név started at twilight, when the moon was highest in the sky.
Berusai rounded all of them around him. He took Josiah first, considering he was the oldest. He said a few things in Hungarian which none of the boys could comprehend and then gave Josiah a new name. Josiah was not Josiah any longer; he was to be called Zarico. The name only made him look more intimidating then he already was which Elijah concluded was the reason why they’d given it to him. Thaddeus was next; Berusai repeated his Hungarian rant and deemed Thaddeus, Razaru. Nikolai gave Elijah a look of concern as Berusai seemed to snatch his attention back with his glare. In a matter of moments Nikolai was now Canivar. Elijah was last, He wasn’t scared but he felt unusual; the idea made him reminisce about his mother. Much to his surprise he kind of enjoyed his new name, it made him feel powerful, like a new person even. It was as if he was born again, beginning his life as a new man, a man called Rishic.