~ Vampires are not meant to be trusted. Or befriended.
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Moonlight seeps through the window and illuminates the large room filled with antiques, books, test tubes filled with the blood of innocent humans and their bones transformed into personal decorations. The vampire's reside. The sound of classical music emerged from the gramophone propped to the side and filled the air, gradually becoming more distorted as the vampire carefully set its glass down on a small coffee table. It stood up from its seat and unveiled a chalkboard with several black and white photographs of many different people, some crossed over, some not. All had lines going to different categories and people. A devilish grin formed on the vampire's lips.
"All of mankind shall be terrorized. Under my will. My law."
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YOU ARE READING
Crimson Hunt
ParanormalWARNING: this contains themes of blood and violence. Swearing is also contained. If you are uncomfortable or triggered by any of those, feel free to skip this story. In the year 1885, an outlaw has been searching for a close friend who has been miss...
