It was about two years ago, on Mary's and my wedding anniversary when I found out. I was resting on a beach in some far of country admiring the distant waves and watching them reflect the sun's rays. The thought had been brewing in my mind for the past few days due to the recent appearance of a blood bag with unknown origins, but I just thought it was paranoia. I was relaxing in a light brown lounge chair covered in a red silk cover eating a ham sandwich. Mary was just a few feet away at the bar ordering a drink, something alcoholic I bet. Anyways, it was a long wait. Every once in a while, I would see her turn her head around, smile, and do a small wave.

She returned about ten minutes later carrying two bottles of whiskey, "we will not be seen drinking this so you can relax." It was such a disreputable drink, but it tastes so good so I would normally drink it in the privacy of my own home, but very rarely in public. She sat down, looked off into the distance, gave me one of the drinks, then rested her hand gently on my shoulder. "There's something I need to tell you."

She seemed scared and full of doubt, questioning if she should tell me, stuttering with every word till she finally gathered the courage to say it. "Sweety, do you know the bags, the ones in the basement? I got that blood from the victim's of the killer you've been hunting for the past few years." It took longer than I'd like to admit to figure out what she meant. When I did, however, I was overcome by a feeling of both confusion and emptiness.

"You're joking, right? I mean you! You wouldn't hurt a fly, you wouldn't hurt another person!" but by the look in her eyes and the way her body shifted back and forth uncomfortably told me all I needed to know.

I didn't know what to do at first, the news made me speechless, something that at the time was very rare. It was about midday and we had a meal to get to. I had made reservations at a fancy restaurant, so I drank the whiskey in one gulp and placed the glass on the small table to my left.

Back in the present, I was in the basement investigating the wooden draws, Percival was of looking at himself in a mirror he found. The letter was a confession she had prepared in advance to control events like this. The writing its self-was not joined or slanted in any way but it was neatly written in black ink. It read.

"To whoever reads this. Hopefully, it's Rory.

I want to start off by apologizing, I haven't been thinking properly for the past few days and at the time, the day after you told me about Harry's suspicions it seemed like the best choice. If you are reading this then I did something to anger you and I'm sorry. But you went to Percival and you told the truth so I had to run. Harry will be dead in three days and there's nothing you can do about it.

But on to more important matters, somewhere in this basement is a document. If you want to separate I would understand." That part of the letter was damp." I have already signed it. However, if you still see a future between us you will meet me in enders alley in three days."

It was clear she wanted to talk so I thought, and I'm sure some of you would agree she at least deserves a chance to explain her actions to both me and Percival as I fear Harry will not live to see the day. The basement was in two parts separated by a wall and a green wooden door with a glass window at the top. It was the first time I had ever been in the basement as access was normally controlled by Mary so not even I knew what was behind that door. Taking a quick peek around the corner.

Listen to the background sound revealed a quiet, depressing melody that played on repeat upon finishing. The room itself was dark, with only the outline figures moving to guide my path. In the centre of the room, or close enough anyway there was a piano being played by an almost see-through man with a waistcoat and the rest of a suit minus the jacket.

"I've been waiting for you for a long time." As he spoke In a soft hollow voice I started to notice others like him, just wandering around the room.

"What are you?"

"We are a reflection of the people your wife and you have killed. We are there their ghosts."

"What do you mean ghosts? Ghosts aren't real. There is no life after death."

"You exist as proof against your own belief. You have powers beyond even your own comprehension." Being near this man, fascinating as his appearance may seem made me feel unwell like he wasn't natural but he spoke in such a soft voice that calmed me at the moment of distress.

"Tell me, why do you need all these blood bags? Why did we have to die for some blood?"

"My grandfather was a scientist, but a crazy one. His main goal was to extend human life beyond death. He failed and one of his experiments created the family curse." He stopped playing the piano and walked towards a cabinet.

"What a sad story. Shame it's wrong."

I think he was trying to anger me by saying everything I knew about my condition was wrong.

"Your grandfather wasn't a scientist, he was a madman looking for power who made a deal with the devil."

This news at face value would have scared anyone, having even a vague connection with the devil would cast a shadow over all good in the victim's heart. This news, however, didn't surprise me as I knew my grandad was an outcast. The only reason I could keep my head on my shoulders is the fact that no one knew it was genetic.

"What does that have to do with you." He was hiding the truth I could tell. "I'm not done yet." He seemed to get more frustrated by the second "as you know all the people here are your victims. All the lives you've taken to live with the curse." He seemed upset.

"My time down here, no matter how traumatizing it might be, gave me time to think about my life." He gestured towards Percival "I never trusted him in life or death and I don't think you should either " I have known Percival since I was twenty-four years old yes

, I thought his name was pretentious he seemed like a nice person. William added "he is one of the most corrupt people in England. You saw what he did at the restaurant." I had seen it before and on a few occasions smelled it on his breath. He was a drinker who took drugs quite possibly the most disreputable list of things someone could be but he used his power and money to make those who found out disappear.

So I approched him for a chat. When I was about three or four steps away he said" so you're a...." the last word was stuck on the tip of his tongue so I finished " vampire yes, but I'm weak." That conversation was quickly changed due to the questionable nature of the thing that had just started playing the Piano again. "I'll round up some witnesses to help find Mary. I'll keep your involvement a secret. A scandal like this would give the press weeks of material."