A Little Less Sixteen Candles... Continued

William Beckett Was Once Human

William Beckett found many ways to emphasise his leadership status. On hunts, he always walked in front, and not a drop of blood would be spilt until he gave the signal. He liked to be called Master, even when he wasn't present. Some aspects were subtle reminders of his status – for example, the fact that only he had his own office. No matter how high-ranking a member of his coven, Beckett kept the luxuries for himself and himself alone. There were many communal rooms in the mansion; dozens of rooms that, for the most part, lay idle and empty. Each vampire, even Brendon, was expected to find his own solitude and hope that it was respected. If it was, it was by chance. With the sheer quantity of rooms, it was possible to find privacy and remain undiscovered, but, somehow, it was rare.

Brendon sat alone in what would once have been a drawing room. He wasn't old enough to remember such things in day-to-day use, but Beckett was. Beckett's family had been rich, remarkably so, even for their day. This had been their home. William had been a boy in this house and grown into a handsome, intelligent and astute young man. Then came that one fateful night when everything was turned inside out and his world changed forever.

Brendon was fairly certain that Beckett had never told anyone else the tale of how he had been turned. But, the memory of it left Brendon in no doubt why all of Beckett's coven were handpicked. Chosen for their handsome, classic features and timeless good looks; it was as if he were reliving it over and over again. Now as he sat alone in the drawing room, Brendon found himself unable to stop himself remembering Beckett's words.

The first I knew of it was a crash as a water jug was hurled with such violence across what I realised immediately was my parent's room, smashing against the wall into a thousand tiny pieces. I was awake in an instant, and out of bed before it even registered that there could be danger. The curtains in my room were open, but it was a new moon and so dark, I could barely see a hand in front of my face.

I could hear screaming and crying, the household was awake but as I made my way into the darkened corridor, I was surprised to find myself alone. There was an uneasy stillness to the air and I knew something was very wrong.

Suddenly, I could hear nothing, no more crying or screaming and it frightened me. I'd never felt such an unnatural stillness. As my eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, I saw... and I still remember the horror of seeing, one of our maids lying lifeless at the top of the stairs.

One by one, I found the bodies; their neck's torn and mutilated. It was all I could do not to be violently ill; they were my family and all our servants – everyone! I was alone in the house, or that's how it seemed. I'd searched everywhere and all I'd found were bodies. I found the last of them, my father's manservant downstairs near the main door. I imagine he was the first to die. There was a discarded doctor's bag next to his body. I guessed that whoever had killed my family had pretended to be a doctor calling on someone in the household.

All I could think of was that, whoever it was, he had killed everyone I had ever loved and then left without a trace. Luck or cruel fate would leave me alive to face the world alone. I couldn't have been more wrong. I sank to my knees, my eyes filling with salt water as the full realisation of what had happened finally hit me.

"Don't cry."

Still on my knees, I turned and looked up, raising my hands defensively, but my tear-filled eyes barely allowed me to see.

"You're too beautiful to cry."

Wiping the tears from my eyes, I scrambled to my feet and took several steps back.

"Who are you?"

In my terror, it was all I could manage. He merely stared at me, lovingly, as if I was his son and he was proud.