The Crimson Flow

1.0 - MASSACRE - PROLOGUE

Music: SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL || The Rolling Stones

Luke Dubois' "life story" was unusual, to say the least. Quite how or why he'd survived that fateful day, remained a mystery to him, but he believed he was spared - for some reason, whatever that was.

Born into an opulent lifestyle, Luke was the third son of the corrupt and brutal Theodore Dubois. His father was a drug baron, money-launderer, human trafficker, pimp - oh the list was endless to his glorious and lengthy criminal career. The riches Dubois amassed through others' misery was plain vulgar - nevertheless, the family revelled in the spoils.

Granted, Luke had not actively taken part in any of his father's business dealings. It was no secret his father was ashamed of him; Luke was unnatural in Theodore's eyes. The head of the family preferred the boy stayed out of the family's 'transactions'.

His inheritance was non-existent; father had seen to that little detail too, even though he would throw him the odd grand or two to indulge his 'peculiarities' - back in the day - as long as it was in private.

Everything had changed though after the foreigner arrived — the man called Cain.

There was something about him which instantly attracted Luke. It was more than just sexual - it was primal, profound, esoteric even.

Unable to resist the allure of the tall, athletic, long-haired stranger, Luke found himself doing everything he could to end up in his company. Even the dark-eyed glares from his father didn't quell his need to be near the exotic individual. Daddy's henchmen were a different matter though - Luke knew not to piss his father off to the point he had them 'teach his son a lesson'.

Of the times he was allowed to be within touching distance, he'd hung on Cain's every word, not that they were many, but, what he did utter was fascinating. Luke latched onto snippets about places and peoples the man had seen. His tales seemed to cover umpteen lifetimes - or perhaps he'd just misinterpreted the stories, but he'd thought not. He'd sensed there was something very unique about him, but equally dark, unfathomable, mysterious. 

Father must have seen some potential in Cain. Soon after his arrival, he was drafted into the Dubois empire, which in itself was highly unusual. Theodore typically had a myriad of checks run on new faces before inviting them on board. Yet, no-one questioned it and Luke, for one, welcomed the 'oversight'.

But, only days later, Cain had erased the entire family; well almost all. For some bizarre and inexplicable reason, he'd allowed Luke to survive.

During the massacre, Luke had tried to remain hidden, observing all, witnessing how his family, their henchmen and faithful servants were all 'dispatched' - rapid, precise, exquisite.

Then Cain found him and dragged him from his hiding place into the hallway. Luke was terrified yet equally in awe of the sheer power this man possessed; tenacious, fast, deadly - in complete control and without fear. He was intoxicating. Far superior to his father, without a doubt. This man could rule the world.

His eyes skittered over the carnage. Even the dogs suffered the second they had tried to attack Cain. The hounds were left in a bloodied mush - the humans, however, were drained, bloodless; mutilated, torn; and not one drop of their blood tainted the premises. Impossible though it seemed, Luke then understood their recent house guest was a vampire.

Cain had held him by the throat in a taloned hand, glaring down at him, his eyes black with flecks of crimson swimming within. His mouth was coated in blood - Dubois blood - and the boy saw the glint of sharp canines shining through the red. He felt almost drunk by Cain's presence - insane though it was, the fear he felt at that moment was the best high he had ever experienced.

"You see what happens when you defile the human race?" Cain had said, turning Luke's head to ensure the boy understood the slaughter. "Those who cause such suffering shall suffer agonies tenfold at my hands."

Luke nodded, unable to speak. Then Cain's fangs penetrated his neck; the blood sucked, greedily into the vampire's mouth. Luke was helpless, near fainting. Ludicrous though it seemed, he found something decidedly erotic about the act but tried to repress such thoughts by reminding himself death was imminent.

Cain had drunk plenty of him and yet he'd stopped, hesitated, drew back. Why?

A shot had rung out, the crack of the weapon resounding around the hallway. Luke was cast aside as Cain swiftly moved to confront a weakened Theodore. The old fool had fired his prized musket rifle at the vampire. He should have used a more reliable firearm; Luke mocked internally, not one which needed reloading after every shot. But, his father's arrogance knew no boundary; he'd thought he was untouchable, immortal. He soon learned he was not, in his overblown opinion of self, he'd only guaranteed himself a harrowing demise. A fitting end for his father, the boy thought. No love was lost there.

As he'd laid in a heap gasping, Luke noted only the foreigner's blood, from the gunshot, stained the walls and floor of the hallway. Beneath him, a small stain of his own life's essence had formed, but it was minimal, barely a drop. He'd wavered in and out of consciousness - how often he knew not, but he'd doubted it had been for long for distantly, he'd heard sirens. The authorities would be there soon. How on earth was he going to explain the massacre? He would no doubt be accused of the slaughter, being the only survivor, and the shamed third son of the notorious Theodore Dubois.

Gathering all the strength he had left, he'd pushed himself up into a kneeling position and checked all around him. Bodies lay strewn, haphazard, broken, but there was no sign of the vampire. Cain had vanished.

His eyes drifted to the small crimson puddles on the floor. He was drawn to them; just like the time when he'd first saw liquid mercury when his older brother, Anthony, had accidentally smashed the thermometer in the vestibule and its silvery component pooled on the floor. He was smacked across the ear by his mother and told not to touch it. Well, no-one was left to reprimand him now, were they? He'd thought.

Before he'd known it, he was lapping the floor and the walls like a dog. But, the spoils did more than sate him. As he'd licked and slurped with increasing enthusiasm and zeal, he realised the blood of the foreigner infused him with a newfound vitality. 

Pain, unlike any other, also accompanied his euphoria, yet, somehow it registered that it was all part of whatever the elixir could offer him.

He gritted his teeth and bore it, for he had to get away before the police arrived. With one final push, he rose to his full height and made his escape.