Bloodstained Souls

Chapter 1

           

Staring at the next assignment my father handed me, my stomach churning in dread, it was a miracle that I managed to keep a straight face. The first photo in the file was of a little boy, Jeremy, who couldn't be much older than 5 years old; his smile wide, and his soft, gentle brown eyes filled with happiness and life. It must have been windy when this photo had been taken because his lengthy caramel colored hair was flung across his face. In his small arms, he held a puppy toward the camera. The chihuahua puppy in his arms did not look as ecstatic as he did, the expression on its cute face being rather unsure and cautious, too shy to properly handle the boy's overflowing excitement. It must have been the boy's birthday because behind him was a table covered with a red tablecloth and a large, round cake decorated with a Spiderman theme laid upon it. My eyes shift toward the photo beside it.

The second photo was dark and rather difficult to make out. The joy that was in the first photo had been replaced with shadows. This photo was taken by security cameras on the outside of a hardware store located on the edge of town. At the very edge of the photo, a woman's body lay prone on the ground upon a puddle of blackness: her own blood. Her head was turned to the side and her terrified, blank expression stared endlessly. The visible side of her neck was ripped open gruesomely. I purse my lips tightly to keep from dry heaving. Information at the bottom of the photo stated her name to be Abigail S., age 19; a year younger than myself.

Looking back at the photo, I examine the small figure crouched over her body. The little boy's long, flowing caramel hair was just as wild as in the first photo, but had been weighed down from the woman's blood matting the ends of it. And his adorable face...Blood was smeared all around his mouth and cheeks, running down his chin and neck. His mouth, smiling in the first photo, was now snarling at something I could not see. And his eyes...No longer were they soft and joyful as they had been in the first photo. They were lifeless and cold, almost black. His little hands were also coated in blood, his small fingers curled up like claws. Small pointed teeth could be seen through his sneer.

I glance up at my father, frowning. "He's five years old."

My father is a tall, lean, muscular man in his mid-forties. Dating back to my childhood, I don't believe I've ever seen him truly smile. His mouth was always curved downward in seriousness or sometimes, smirking with cruelty. His eyes were a beautiful blue-gray color, but they were as cold and hard as ice. He had frown lines on his cheeks and around his mouth and his forehead was wrinkled, due to his constant somber expression. He keeps his brown hair short and it was starting to recede, as well as fall out in the back. Besides inheriting the color of his eyes, and his sunk in cheek bones, I hardly resemble my father.

He sighs, looking up from the text that he's currently studying. "How unfortunate that his life was ended so early and so tragically. The sooner you put him out of his misery, the sooner his family can get a break and move on." His tone holds no sympathy or sorrow, and his expression was just as empty. Sometimes, I truly despise my father.

"I suppose you're right." I copy his tone and expression, something I had to practice as I grew up, not perfecting it until a couple of years ago. "How was this covered up? The cameras show everything."

"The council and I will take care of that problem, Mystery. Do not let it concern you. Your only concern is to go out tonight and rid this city of that vampire before it poses any more of a problem."

I want to voice that this vampire was once as human as we are. And that despite the gruesome murder he committed in these photos, he still has far more innocence than I, or any of my family, will ever have again. I bite my tongue instead.

Standing up, I set the file back down on my father's desk. "Is that all you've called me in here for?" I stare at him, keeping my expression calm. If my expression were to reveal how much I want to escape this room and get away from him, he'd be insulted: insulting my father is not an option.