Matter of Time

I was part of the “scene”, this self-glorified pathology the academics in our mix liked to call a “subculture”. The Hunters. Vampire hunters. Humans, whose live revolve around killing the most dangerous prey that exists. Intelligent, nearly invincible, ageless, prey. Whit powers that operate entirely out the know laws of physics. I was a member for ten years, about, no ceremony or anything, it’s all very informal in the Clubs. Left, ten years ago.

That part was very, very, much clear cut. No shady transition. If you catch my drift.

Math is easy in that case, 10 years means I left 4 years before the Opening. The year when vampires stopped hiding from humanity. Became part of normal world. With diplomatic and legal aspects. They own journalists, media, and artistic community. In the open.

As much as anything involving govern ever is.

If you did caught my drift a moment ago you understand I could not during those 4 years walk in a place like that. Hunter Bar. Matter of fact, make it 5 years, because that first 1 year was what we call the Mad Year. All bets where off, what had always been taken for granted stopped making sense. No one knew what would stick, what rules applied, survival was contingent on your ability to “play by ear” the melody of day and night.

Six years after the end of the secrecy, still feels strange for most people.

You became a Vampire Hunter for vengeance, usually. There was a sort of tradition, people only used to tell who they lost and how to you after they share a few couple hunts. Some serious moments, the kind that leaves you shaking for days.

The old timers, those who less everything and met everyone, do not care about anymore. We all kind of shared their tales. Just survive to see the colour of your hair moving to grey in that ghetto is something like a miracle. More supernatural and hard to believe than any spectacular crap about vampiric special powers.

Don’t expect me to tell you my “tale”. There is nothing special about it, not to anyone but me. I can tell you something else. How I changed sides, from being a Vampire Hunter to being a Noble Vampire. Latest Child of the Night of Black Rose Family.

Was a matter of time and scale.

I just mentioned the old timers of Hunter community. People who managed to reach 50, 60, in some cases even near 80 years. Hunting vampires or teaching new generations how to organize their lives around doing that. Swallow the pain, the tragedy, and keep going. Now let me talk to you about my new family.

We are currently under the rule of our seventh Patriarch. However, the father founder himself is still around. He just does not have a mind for politics anymore. Leaves that to others.

This man goes for the name of Ektor nowadays. He has been a vampire for over one million years. One million! The homo sapiens was not even nearly to have been evolved when he was born as some other sort of talking humanoid.

I watched a soccer game in the TV with this individual hours ago. Sitting in the same room. Do you understand what I am saying.

Ektor is surprisingly mundane and inconspicuous. He has oil paintings and charcoal sketches of his own face as it used to be for most his life. But his vampiric powers allow him to reshape his appearance at will. He looks like an ordinary 12 years old boy, talks like a grandfather. What gives the impression of a young boy who expends too much time with his grandparents. Is funny.

Granted, that is not a typical vampire. He is somewhere in the list of the 100 oldest vampires still around on this world. Still, one MILLION years! That is an open possibility, for any one in our community.

So, you see? Vampires never see themselves decay with the passage of time. Time only makes us stronger. Time really, literally, is on our side.

Feels really, truly, good! To be playing in the same team, that has Time itself as a player.

Of course, most hunters hate me for it. I am their favourite villain, the traitor who turned sides by choice. For purely selfish reasons, no less!

I saw some being corrupted by mind-control under ****. I saw others being broken by the chains of compulsion of vampire blood. Discipline and techniques can take you a long way in the middle of fights but when vampires capture a hunter and can work her art slowly, there is little chance of any resistance hold. If those are Noble Vampires, with access to a variety of supernatural powers. No human mind in that strong.

On the other hand, in the opposite ****, there are some hunters who have settle to sell themselves for a place under a vampire, as blood-thralls. Just because it would give them the cure for cancer. More years, centuries, to live.

Being competent in killing vampires, actually killing, for good. Vampires who had between one and three thousand years. Is sometimes enough to get you a better deal.

I was such a hunter, by the time when I changed sides. However, the deal I got was way better than anything my skill as a hunter could justify. What happened was that I got lucky in the blood-seeds lottery. A vampire Apprizer tasted my blood and really liked the potential vampiric powers waiting to be unlocked in it.

Instead of just being accepted in the border of the immortal core of the family, I was offered the rare opportunity to marry one of the living daughters of the main branch of the living side of the family. We should have children, least two. Meanwhile, I would have children also with some of the bridesmaids. Nine cousins of my wife, from lesser branches. To raise the chances of having more people with the blood-seed in future generations.

All that happened in secret, while I was still a hunter. Then came the actual moment of decision. The transition from human to vampire.

When I was starting to put myself together again, came the Mad Year.

Discussions in the Nocturnal Court was brutal.

To the Hunter Clubs, was worse. A lot worse.

The community broke. Those who embraced the new reality and adapted became a sort of living memory. Places like that are like temples for those people, drink and breath the nostalgy of lost times. Those how stay true to the old ways, are terrorists now, hunted as such. By humans and by vampires, both. There are, of course, the posers now. Those who imitate the surface of Vampire Hunter community. As it used to be, when the normal person didn’t believed vampires could possibly exist.

In a place like that, in a normal Friday night, you always can spot half a dozen posers.

We didn’t used to have those in Hunter Clubs back in my days.

There was no people like me either. Like what I am now, I mean.

Tonight I see two other vampires. One is a former hunter like me, century older than me, probably. Possibly a lowlife vampire too, but I will not dig in that and instead will pretend I believe he is a Noble Vampire. Otherwise I would need to call a hunt or try to end his existence myself. The Nocturnal Court demands that, core part of vampiric law. Not to allow Low Vampires to stay in existence.

The other fellow is clearly a Noble Vampire, five years as a nocturnal child, tops. Shouldn’t be walking around without supervision like that. Some vampiric family really got lazy tonight.

This fellow was never a hunter. That’s obvious.

I wonder what kind of trouble will find him before the night end.

We can live for millions of years, maybe more. And still, there is nothing keeping anyone of us to die before this night end. Like that fellow will, more likely than not.

He likes fake Hunter Bars, more likely than not. Saw familiar visual identity.

Didn’t realized the difference.

Not my business, but I wonder who is the negligent older sibling who was supposed to be looking after this fellow and screwed up. Not that many families in town. Has to be someone I know.

Old and important vamps do not get that kind of task.

That ring in his finger, that is the Green-Claws crest of arms. Means this is a main-branch member. Born in the family, and from the best parts of it looks like.

I hope his babysitter is not Katherine Green-Claws! Would not be the first time she does something like that. And I would rather not walk into her any time soon. Or last conversation didn’t end exactly in the most diplomatic way possible. She is a bit too good in go under my skin, I must admit.

Coming to think about that, I had all the nostalgy I really needed tonight. Better to leave this place, before the worse. Only one way in and out available for clients…

Oh, fuck! Of course. Had to be her.

Time may be playing in my team but let me tell you. Sometimes Father Time really sucks as a teammate.