Hope

Phase I: Gentleman, Jacob.

Chapter One

The cool of the early evening was one of the first signs that winter was on her way. The wind nipped at the skin of the civilians of London, or at least, the skin of people's faces. They were clothed properly, as they knew the cold weather was setting in. Women's cheeks were red, while their lips a tone or so under their normal hue. Men's cheeks were also pink, but maybe not entirely from the cold. At this time men would head to the inns and pubs for their evening drink; that is what Jacob did. After his six or so hours of hard work at the smithy, he would make his way to the local tavern named The Sweet Rose Inn. There he would order a big mug of warm mead, and sometimes, if he had a few extra coin, he would by himself a little meal of bread and cheese.
But tonight was not a normal work night for him. On his journey to the inn, he had stumbled across an unfathomable sight. One that everyone knew of, but very few had seen.
On his brisk walk, hands in his coat pockets, a cigarette in between his plump lips, he had stopped in the middle of the roadway due to his hat falling off of his head from that cool autumn wind. When he had knelt down to retrieve it, a dark ebony carriage had almost hit him. Poor Jacob had received such a fright that he had fallen onto his bottom when two dark horses loomed over him. His dull, green eyes had seemed to go even duller when his soul was scared right out of his person.
When he got back to his feet, he took one – maybe two – steps back, waiting to see if the carriage driver would say anything. The driver said nothing. He had looked almost dead, long and dark black hair tied into a tight ponytail revealed a pale face; dark blue bags under his eyes further exposed how lifeless he had looked. Jacob's eyes flicked from the driver, and to the door that suddenly swung open. The people around had also stopped, watching in awe as a gentleman stepped out the dark stagecoach. Jacob glanced at the man's shoes. They were formal dress shoes, much like any nobleman would wear, and they were polished to perfection. Upon closer inspection they were detailed with fine lace-like patters round the toe of the shoe. The man's pants fit perfectly, much like the coat that he wore. Black gloves covered the man's hands, and a wine toned scarf kept his neck warm. Finally, Jacob looked at the man's face. It was like porcelain, in colour and texture. He had not a single blemish on his face, nor a sign of blood under his skin. He had a sharp and angular face; it was harsh. His lips were small, with the top lip being ever so slightly thicker than it's lower counter part; they were the only part of his face that seemed to not be pale, as they were a gentle rose colour. His eyes revealed who and what he was, a vampire. He had piercing amber eyes, which seemed to be the main thing that frightened and amazed Jacob all together. What made the man look even more pale was his platinum blonde hair, which was the only thing that can be described as untidy, but even that seemed to make his overall appearance look perfect.
Jacob watched him, stunned, frozen. The vampire stared at him, as if also shocked by something. Finally, Jacob had mustered up an apology, to which the vampire replied,
"Are you blind?" His voice was smooth, but that factor was overlooked with how cruel he sounded.
"No, I'm not, sir. I had simply dropped my hat, is all." Jacob replied, gripping the headpiece into deformity. The tangerine eyes looked at the common hat.
"Do not get in my way again." He commanded, and looked at his horses, that seemed to be at disease. He stepped to them, and stroked the one's neck, instantly calming both the beasts.
"Now get out of the way." He added before stepping back into the carriage. Jacob did just that, and watched as the carriage rode off.
Everyone around began to talk of who the man was. Whispers of his name reached Jacob's ear. He had learned that he had just gotten in the way of the royal Prince of Heart, Dirk Strider. Though, he had not heard that name before, and it had no meaning to him, he still felt the awful feeling of dread hang over him. With a pale, scared face, he made his way to the Sweet Rose Inn, where instead of mead, he had ordered whiskey instead. Not a social word slipped out of his mouth. The barman looked at his loyal customer and frowned,
"What is the matter, old chap? You look like you saw a ghost or something of the similar sort." He spoke. Jacob looked at the man before downing the liquor, and licking his cold, fat lips."Aye. Bumped into a vampire."
"Ah, those creatures," the barman started, "they are pouring into this city faster than rats at a pile of garbage, I tell ye! Everywhere I turn my ear to, all I hear are stories about these vampires."
Jacob held his glass out for a top up of his drink, "Like what?"
"All the sorts. Of how this one vampire killed a man's poor wife, or how this woman vampire seduced that fella before ripping his throat out. People are always complaining, being bitter about them, but nothing is being done about it."
Jacob turned to a man at another stool of the bar as he spoke, "There is a hunter association down near the outskirts of London, you know."
"Aye, but what are they doing about it? Nothing, I tell ye. They go about with their fancy badges, but when they hear a man has been slaughtered, they do nothing to solve it." The barman replied. Jacob only drank his drink when it was refilled. He had always heard stories of these beasts, and of the hunter association, yet always in the back of his mind he refused to accept they were real. He saw them as only myths, as city legends told to youngsters to scare them. He felt like he was young again, with his fear coating his skin like the cold.
He had soon left the two men to continue bickering about the undead creatures, as he needed to head home. He had his grandmother to get back to.