The Immortal Kiss

Chapter 1-Jin

I licked my lips, savoring the metallic tang of the blood that lingered on them. The dim blue light cast a strange, almost romantic aura over the macabre scene.
Bodies lay scattered like discarded dolls. Women motionless, men bleeding out, their life force seeping into the floorboards. The scent of death was intoxicating. I straightened my tie, then ran my fingers through my hair, allowing a smirk to settle on my lips. Satisfaction pulsed through me.

I stepped over the bodies with casual indifference, the last whispers of life fading from the room. The silence was hauntingly beautiful. But the night wasn't over yet. As I strolled out of the building and into the chilly night, I heard the distant wail of sirens. Typical. They were too late, as always. Not that it mattered. Humans never learn. Luckily, vampires can't be seen on camera, only caught as faint, subtle shadows. And shadows don't have faces, do they?

I slid into my car, the leather seats cool against my back, and drove off. The city lights blurred past me, and the fun of the night began to fade. A cold bath was all I craved now, something to cleanse the remnants of blood and chaos clinging to my skin. As I neared home, though, I felt the familiar itch of annoyance rising. The evening, it seemed, was about to become a lot more bothersome.

When I opened the front door and stepped inside, I hadn't even taken my shoes off before I saw him the old man, standing like a sentinel, his cane in hand, eyes narrowed, ready to strike.

I sighed deeply, suppressing the urge to roll my eyes.

"I already know what you're going to say, old man," I muttered, kicking off my shoes lazily, "but put the damn cane down. I'm too tired for this."

His expression remained unchanged, that same infuriating calm masking the brewing storm. I shoved past him, my shoulder bumping into his frail frame, but he barely moved. He was stronger than he looked-always had been.

He tapped his cane on the hardwood floor, and instantly, the world froze. The air thickened, the hum of the city ceased, and time stood still. Everyone stopped, except for us. And just like that, I felt it. The crushing weight on my chest, the familiar suffocation. Oxygen disappeared from the room as if the very essence of life was being drained out of me. I dropped to my knees, gasping, nails scraping against the floor as the pain shot through me.

"Fuck! Fine!" | groaned, wheezing between ragged breaths. "Old man, just... Jesus... fine!"

He tapped the cane again, and the world resumed its normal pace. Air flooded back into my lungs, and I collapsed, coughing and rubbing my neck. The old man stood over me, his eyes still cold, filled with disappointment. Of course. He was always disappointed.

"I was just out with some friends... and women." I finally managed, forcing myself to stand.

His silence spoke volumes, but his wrinkled face betrayed the faintest hint of frustration. A father's disappointment, as eternal as death itself. "You claim you were with friends and women," he said slowly, his grip tightening on the cane, "but I smell blood on you. The hydrogen peroxide cannot mask it."
I rolled my eyes, unbuttoning my bloodstained shirt. "Human blood is better than animal blood, old man. You know that. Give me a break. How long do you expect us to keep feeding on animals?
You're going to single-handedly drive them to extinction." I joke.

He chuckled dryly, the sound devoid of humor, and turned, heading toward the living room. I watched him for a moment before heading upstairs, exhaustion dragging me with every step. I shrugged off the rest of my clothes and finally sank into the cold bath. The water instantly turned crimson, swirling like liquid art. It was oddly mesmerizing and beautiful even. Blood had a way of doing that.

A few hours later, I found myself lying in bed, scrolling through my phone. The world continued spinning, unaware of what l'd done. The news anchors droned on about the scene I'd left behind-five women found dead, six men torn limb from limb, their bodies brutalized beyond recognition. A massacre, they called it. Horrific, senseless. They had no idea just how deserved it was.

I couldn't help but grin as I watched the coverage. That group of people had been a festering wound in the city. Vile bullies who thought they were untouchable. It didn't take much to make them targets. A college kid, desperate for revenge, had reached out to me with an offer I couldn't refuse. A vendetta, but more importantly, a feast.
The price was right. And the taste?
Exquisite.

As the images of the crime scene flashed on the screen, I couldn't help but feel a swell of pride. It was beautiful, in its own twisted way. The kind of work that left a mark quite literally. The authorities would clean it up, the world would move on, but the shadows would always remember. And so would I.

I stretched out on the bed, my body finally relaxing. The old man's disappointment was already fading into the background. His rules, his code or whatever. They didn't apply to me, not really. He was stuck in his outdated ways, clinging to some moral high ground that didn't exist anymore. The world had changed, evolved. And so had I.
Let him be angry. Let him tap his cane and freeze the world. In the end, I knew what I was and I was damn good at it.

The night was young, and so was the hunger.