Bloodlines Legacy Arc 1 Eternal Night

Chapter:9 First Glimpses

Violet moved swiftly through the halls of the Blackthorne estate, her mind fixated on one thing—the old book. The conversation with the Cleaners had stirred a long-forgotten memory, something buried deep in the extensive library of the estate. She knew the answers were there, hidden in the dusty pages of ancient texts.

The Blackthorne library was one of the largest private collections in the vampire world, filled with centuries of knowledge about their kind. Each family had its own records of history, but the Blackthornes had always been meticulous in their documentation of vampire powers and lore.

Pushing open the heavy wooden doors, Violet stepped into the dimly lit room, the scent of old paper and leather-bound books thick in the air. The walls were lined with shelves that reached from floor to ceiling, filled with volumes detailing the history of their kind. She made her way to the far side of the room, where the oldest books were kept.

Her fingers grazed the spines of the ancient tomes until she found the one she was looking for—an old, weathered book, its cover barely legible. The binding creaked as she opened it, the brittle pages yellowed with age. This was it—the book that chronicled the earliest days of the vampire world, back when the first vampires were still learning to control their powers.

Violet's eyes scanned the pages, flipping through the early accounts of vampire abilities. She found what she was looking for—a description of the ancient power to drain life completely from a victim, leaving them a twisted husk. The text confirmed her fears: Cedric, Ivan, and Saraphina, three of the original five leaders, had possessed this ability. It was a power they had learned to control, but in the beginning, it had been wild, uncontrollable.

She continued reading, her fingers tracing the names of those who had wielded this terrifying power. Cedric, her father. Ivan, the Russian leader. Saraphina, the Eldredge matriarch. But as Violet turned the page, her heart skipped a beat.

The next page—the one that should have listed the remaining names of the original vampires—was gone. Ripped out.

Violet stared at the torn edges of the book, a wave of confusion washing over her. Who had taken the page? And why? The names of the original five leaders were well-known, so why would someone go to such lengths to hide the rest?

Her thoughts raced as she pieced together the mystery. The original five leaders were the founders of the vampire world, their power unmatched. But if someone had erased part of their history, it meant there was something—or someone—left out of the story. Someone who didn't want to be found.

Violet closed the book, her mind swirling with questions. The ripped page wasn't just a missing piece of history—it was a clue. But to what? She would need to investigate further, but for now, there was no time. She had to focus on the present dangers. Someone was using ancient powers, and they had to find out who before it was too late.

Meanwhile, across the city, Olivia Brooks stood outside the modest home of Margaret Shaw, the widow of Thomas Shaw.

The house was small, tucked away on a quiet street. Olivia hesitated for a moment, her hand hovering over the doorbell, before finally pressing it. After a few seconds, the door opened, and Margaret stood before her, a tired woman with weary eyes and the weight of grief hanging over her.

"Mrs. Shaw?" Olivia asked softly.

Margaret nodded, stepping aside to let Olivia in. "Please, come in."

The interior of the house was simple, cozy, but there was a heaviness in the air—a sense of sadness that clung to the walls. Olivia followed Margaret into the living room, where they sat across from each other.

"I appreciate you speaking with me," Olivia said, pulling out her notepad. "I know this must be difficult."

Margaret nodded, her hands folded tightly in her lap. "It is... but I need someone to listen. No one else will."

Olivia leaned forward slightly. "I want to help. Can you tell me what happened the night your husband died?"

Margaret hesitated for a moment, her eyes flickering with something—fear, perhaps. "The police said it was COVID," she began, her voice trembling. "But I know that's not true. Thomas... he was murdered."

Olivia's heart skipped a beat. "Why do you think that?"

Margaret's expression hardened, her grief giving way to something more determined. "Because I know what he was involved in. He didn't talk about it much, but I know. He was smart—good with numbers. There was this underground Russian gambling ring... he went there sometimes, to make extra money."

Olivia raised an eyebrow. "A gambling ring? You think that's connected to his death?"

Margaret nodded. "I'm sure of it. He wasn't just gambling—he was helping them. He would calculate the odds, give them tips on how to win. But recently, he seemed... off. Nervous. I think he got in too deep."

Olivia scribbled furiously in her notepad, her mind already racing. "Do you know where this gambling ring is?"

Margaret's eyes flicked to the window, as though she were afraid someone might be watching. "It's underground, hard to find. But if you want answers, that's where you'll find them."

Olivia nodded, her pulse quickening. This was the lead she had been looking for. "Thank you, Mrs. Shaw. You've been very helpful."

Margaret smiled weakly. "Please... be careful."

As Olivia stood and made her way to the door, she couldn't shake the feeling that this story was about to take her down a very dangerous path. She stepped out into the cool night air, her mind buzzing with questions.

But just as she was about to leave, something made her stop. She froze in place, a shiver running down her spine. She felt it—that strange, unsettling feeling of being watched.

Her eyes darted around the street, scanning the shadows, but there was no one. She glanced up, and for a brief moment, she thought she saw something. Glowing red eyes. Watching her from the rooftop across the street.

Olivia blinked, her heart pounding in her chest. But when she looked again, the eyes were gone, leaving only darkness.

She shook her head, trying to dismiss it. "It's nothing," she whispered to herself. "Just the dark playing tricks on me."

Still, as she walked away from the house, a chill lingered in the air, and Olivia couldn't shake the feeling that something—or someone—was following her.