March 10, 2005, 7:10 p.m. Miami

Frank stood next to me as we looked down toward the old building cross the street. There was Peco’s cafeteria facing it, and there was the girl who, in my memories, helped a dying Erika with her cell phone. I knew what was about to happen. We watched as a vehicle parked in front of the building and two men stepped out. They looked dangerous and quickly got inside the building.

 What are we doing?” Frank asked.

I waited for a few moments.

“Now, let’s go down,” I said.

I grabbed Frank, and both of us leaped off from the building rooftop, landing softly next to the building cross the street. With ease, we entered the old facility; and once inside, we heard an argument.

“What do you mean this is your money, motherfucker?” an unidentified male shouted.

In silence and amazed with this "new" reality I remembered the entire conversation. Even thou, for Frank and the men this was the very first time these events happened each word echoe inside my memories like a lucid dream. 

“You want to know what’s yours?” the voice inside a room at the end of the corridor said.

There was a strong odor of tobacco in the room.

“You want me to give you what’s yours?” the voice at the end of the corridor persisted.

I stopped walking, holding Frank next to me.

We heard more shouting coming from the unidentified voices, followed by a series of gunshots, and then silence.

We heard someone approaching, and I quickly pulled Frank into one of the empty rooms in the corridor. Soon we saw Newyorico Grill walking briskly toward the room at the end of the corridor; he was carrying a gun.

We waited for a few moments.

“I’ll give you the money!” Newyorico Grill said.

We heard fast movements, and then a blazing shootout; and then in seconds, there was just silence, again.

I moved fast, entering the room and grabbing Newyorico Grill by his neck, overpowering him with ease. He was in shock when he saw my anger. My eyes shifted back to Frank.

“Feed!” I ordered as I threw the body of Newyorico Grill in Frank’s direction.

Newyorico Grill fell hard against the floor, and he dropped his handgun. Frank looked at me, hesitant.

“Now!” I urged him.

Frank looked down and immediately jumped on Newyorico Grill, going for his neck. Newyorico Grill shouted and tried to fight Frank off, but it was a useless struggle.

“It is a shame. We could have had so much fun together,” I said out loud, remembering what Newyorico Grill had said to Erika in that same room in a world and time that only exist inside my mind.

Frank sank his fangs deep and ruthlessly but enjoying every second of it. 

As I stood there and watched Frank drain the lowlife scum in fact killing him twice, I felt happy. 

*******

April 8, 2005, 9:10 p.m. Miami

Lucy’s baby was born on a clear night in April 2005. Almost eight pounds and with snow-white skin, she was the perfect portrait of health.

I waited a couple of days to go and see her after my initial visit at the hospital. It had been an interesting experience, taking Lucy to the hospital to give birth. That night, I had to stay inside a waiting room next to Stephen, as some husbands do. We both waited for the outcome in silence. Lucy and I discussed the possibility of me being in the room with her, but we desisted from that idea because of the blood factor and because of Stephen. She was torn between Stephen’s father’s right to be there at the moment of childbirth and her peace of mind in not seeing him there.

In the end, it was Stephen who suggested that he should stay out of the room. It was Lucy’s mother who came down to be with her on such an important night instead. Mercy was a sweet-looking lady, completely delighted at the prospect of the new family addition.

A few days later, in the middle of the night and back in her place, Lucy was alone in her room when she showed me her baby girl. I smelled the newborn’s scent and kept my distance. Lucy understood and held her daughter close to her.

“She’s perfect,” I said

Lucy looked at her and smiled. I found Oso in the cradle, next to a new teddy bear brought by Stephen, who showed up the day before to be with his daughter.

“Have you finally decided on a name?” I asked

She looked at me with the brightest of expressions. “Ava. Her name will be Ava,” she said.

I nodded at her decision. “Ava is a strong and noble name,” I said.

I sat on a chair next to her bed, and we talked. We discussed the future, my decision to leave to New York for a while, and my initial investment in her brand as an artist.

Lucy asked me if I wanted to be Ava’s godfather.

I promised her that despite my future travels, the distance between us, and beyond whatever the future might hold for both of us, I would always be a phone call away. I promised to be by her and the baby’s side always and forever. Lucy knew that coming from me, those words were true.

“I should know by now that in the end, true Gypsies always walk away,” she said while holding little Ava wrapped in a blanket. .

Before the night was over, I let her know how easily her heart had always awed me.

My words and my good-bye made her cry.

*******

August 13, 2006, 2:08 a.m. New York

It was great spending time with Jason, being able to talk to him like before, and sharing again the experience of “almost” losing him. He read my mind and understood my emotions. What he didn’t want to understand was Frank and the reasons I had to turn him. He suspected, and he was right, that I never considered spending time mentoring the old man, that instead, I was setting everything up so I could drop the responsibility of tutoring Frank on his lap. My stepson was not happy with the arrangement, but I knew he would get over it.

Our nights became a give-and-take among the three of us. Jason and I were very careful with Frank and respected his ability as a killer. Frank was the perfect vampire in many ways. In other words, he was a major risk; but then again, so was every one of us.

Things turned weird when I made the necessary arrangements to have a steady supply of blood at home. Several calls to my lawyers and from my lawyers to a group of special people took care of the arrangements. A specific temperature-calibrated storage unit had been built and installed in my place in Manhattan.

The expression in Jason’s eyes when he saw me for the first time sucking blood throw straw inserted in a blood pouch would stay with me for a long time.

It took me weeks, but I perfected the temperature level to keep the blood supply to my liking, and I was surprised to find out how convenient everything turned out to be.

The flashing lights and images coming from the TV set distracted me, taking my attention away from my reverie to a commercial about some kind of “miracle wrinkle cream.”

I needed that type of recreation after leaving Miami, after everything I experienced.

Suddenly, I couldn’t help feeling that I was just a tiny part in a bigger scheme. I felt cheated, and I wanted to understand. For the first time, I began to legitimize the old man’s words. “It is counting on your stubborn nature,” he said, and he was right. The thing that wanted to destroy me, whatever it might have been, got my number.

There was a tornado of memories inside my head, disturbing my peace. Among them were the ones that my impostor had stolen from Hunter and that now lived inside my mind.

I could still see the vigilante driving around the city, wondering if I was like him. By now, he must have known that I was not. Now I had become his goal, maybe his prize. In a way, that was good because I was more at peace knowing that the soldier was tracking me down and not Jason.

There had been other trackers before him, but he was special. Hunter had a secret that made him more human than human. My own private Van Helsing, if there ever was one.

And then there were the other memories, the ones that hurt deeply in me, the ones that followed me even to my place in New York. However, that night, I believed I had found a way to make them stop.

*******

November 03, 2006, 11:07 p.m. South Carolina

It took me less than two hours to spot it. It looked smaller than I remembered it.

Again, those memories were not mine.

In the last weeks, I had felt torn, angry, and incomplete. I knew it was because I needed to come here, to this place.

I watched the small house from above, letting my hatred build from my core to my limbs. Slowly, I lowered myself down to the ground, taking my time, savoring the moment until my feet reached it; and then I walked, again, slowly. Time was on my side.

It always is.

The night was cold, and the artificial lighting was scarce.

I was home. 

I still believe there’s neither a god nor a devil. At least not the human idea of what god or the devil is. I don’t believe in heaven or hell, but I’ve learned that there are forces out there willing to challenge us, to tempt us, even to destroy us.

Everything ends, except life . . . “and nothing is inevitable.”

I stopped at the front door and firmly knocked once. There was only silence. I knocked again, this time twice. I heard noises inside, the voice of a man familiar to me. I heard him walking slowly, stumbling around. I balled my hands into fists, only to reopen them. I bit my lower lip, drawing a little of my own blood. I almost couldn’t contain myself for not tearing the door down with one blow.

The door opened. The man was not tall. He tried to look at my face, but it was too dark for his old and tired eyes.

“Know thyself,” the Greek once said back in those long nights in Larissa. Easier said than done. I have had dozens of aliases and more than a hundred enterprises. I have loved and hated in over seven languages, and I have lived over thirty years with the ancient ones, learning the mysteries of the night. And through all of it, I have always used my real name.

Through it all, I’ve always known who I am and why I’m here. I’m here to take and to give life.

I’m a man, but I’m also more than a man.

I’m terror. I’m evil and sometimes I’m a savior.

I’m death and I’m eternal life.

I’m Immortal . . .

I stood there and looked at this sorry excuse of a man, remembering the words spoken by Frank: “Maybe life had no choice but to let evil loose so there could be a balance in the world.”

 I felt the urge to bring balance that night. Using all my speed, I extended my right hand and, with all my strength, grabbed the man’s neck.

I felt his shock and sudden fear.

“Hello, Dad,” I whispered.

“What the hell?” the man said with extreme difficulty.

I eased the grip on his neck, letting him breathe a bit. I wanted to hear him scream.

“Who are you?” he asked, trying to remove my hand from his neck.

Slowly, I lifted his body off the ground, choking him.

“What do you want?” he screamed in terror.

His screams made me smile and my fangs visible.

“Everything!” It was my answer.

“Know thyself,” said the Greek . . .

Amorgos once told me about the first time he saw that inscribed in front of the temple of Apollo, when it was still complete, not the modern version that scholars around the world teach nowadays. The entire quote was “Know thyself, and you shall know all the mysteries of the gods and of the universe.”

All of us hide secrets. Time is nothing but a lie. Everything we take for granted could disappear in an instant. It has happened, and it will happen again . . .

Effortlessly, I lifted both of us off the ground, heading to the dark skies.

The scared man used both his hands to grab mine, trying to hold on. I felt his panic when he realized that we were flying. I sensed his wild heartbeat. I wanted him to understand, to feel the most intense terror.

“Know thyself.”

I’m the myth.

I’m the horror.

I’m the urban legend.

As we flew high above the clouds, I felt complete. I felt myself again. As fast as my speed allowed me, I challenged the cold wind, flying high, passing the shore, entering deeper over the black ocean.

Slowly, I lifted the man to the level of my head and waited for him to see my eyes; and when he did, he froze. Quickly, I opened my hand, releasing his body, letting him fall. I heard his screams fading slowly in the cold night.

As I watched Erika’s father disappear on his long way down to the dark waters of the Atlantic, I felt at peace. I waited, knowing that I was too high to hear the impact of his body against the waves. But I waited nevertheless.

I could feel whatever was left of Erika inside me leaving.

Closure at last . . .

As I flew back west, I grew stronger, feeling more alive than ever before. I watched the tiny artificial lights coming from the hotels and condos all over the shore announcing my proximity to land; and I changed my path, heading north. I felt the wind hitting my face and smiled. I smiled because I believed I had done something good, because a good girl had been avenged; but above all things, because I was still me.

“Know thyself.”

They call me, the Blood King.

THE END

*Note: Thank you for reading this Wattpad exclusive version of "Eternal Darkness, Blood King." As I work in new stories it will be great if you can take the time and let me know how much you like it or what would you like to "see" in future Renzo's adventures. 

RENZO WILL RETURN.