The Savages

Chapter 1: Stephen

Ricky Stephen Savage was his full name. By the age of one, he knew what he was, and he knew why his older brother had kept it a secret ever since his creation in 2015. His eyes bore witness to all the innocent people he'd slaughtered in a bloodthirsty rage, watching their souls leave their bodies whilst he felt nothing but indifference. His hands were always covered in blood that wasn't his. And wherever he went, people looked him up and down, immensely repulsed by what they saw. He was a monster; a blood-sucking demon whose fate had already been determined by those like him in the past.

"Don't worry about what anyone else thinks about you," Teemu told him on a weekly basis. "In the end, it's your happiness that matters."

And so he tried to live by his older brother's words of wisdom, only selecting those who to deserved to die by his own hands. Over the months he wiped out pedophiles, rapists, murderers, drug addicts and child molesters, earning himself a good reputation and saving more lives than he took. He often killed in the shadows, dragging them kicking and screaming into the forest where no one else would hear their desperate cries for help. After he was done with them, he returned the bodies home, where his youngest brother, Rebel, burnt them to ash.

He always desired to be more than what he was cursed with. He wanted to be normal like everyone else, with a loving partner to support him every step along the way. He craved it so much that each night he walked the streets of Manchester, seeking out potentials. It just so happened that on one certain night, a young woman with flowing honey blonde hair caught his attention.

She was in her mid-thirties, wrapped up in a buttoned pink woollen coat and a black and white chequered scarf. Her lips were coated a succulent shade of brink pink, her bright blue eyes focused straight forward on the footpath. She had no knowledge of the vampire watching her from the shadows, sizing her up, inhaling the sweet scent of perfume wafting off her clothes. He could hear the blood pumping in her veins, beckoning his name in the form of little whispers. Out of habit, his tongue brushed the side of his contracted fang, imagining just how delectable her blood would taste. Just one taste, he promised himself.

"Excuse me, miss," He emerged from the alleyway, pushing his hands into his pockets. "Are you lost?"

She stopped in her tracks and turned to face him. Her soft, oval shaped face looked the least bit surprised, her eyes tracing up and down his body with minimal interest. He saw something else behind them; some unfathomable emotion he couldn't quite place his finger on. "No, I'm not. What's a man like you doing out here all alone at this time of night?"

Her smooth British accent carried a lot of sass behind it. Stephen got the feeling she wasn't easily fooled, and was more than capable of standing up to a challenge when faced with one. He decided to play into the small game she started, figuring it would give him the amusement he needed before he decided whether or not she fitted into one of his categories.

"Just out for some fresh air on this lovely night," he shrugged, glancing skyward at the full moon shining down on them. He pictured his twin brother at home looking up at the same moon, trying his most desperate attempt not to howl at it. He'd had enough difficulty ignoring the urge earlier after their unforeseen encounter with the mysterious vampire. "What's your story?"

The girl tucked a strip of her hair behind the curve of her ear, preventing the wind from playing with it any further. He noticed then that her hair was medium-length, elegantly framing her face. A few stray strands brushed forward over the top of her shoulders, lightly whipping her neck and jaw.

"I don't know how else I should deal with a breakup," she glanced away from him, averting her eyes up to the starry night sky. "Unless there's some book out there called 'Breakups for Dummies' that you know of?"