Subscribe to my newsletter to be notified of new episodes: https://leopagefiore.beehiiv.com/subscribe

CONTENT WARNING: Although the Eidolon City series contains positive themes like hope, redemption, humor, and frequently focuses on romantic subplots, I must stress that this story is a dark urban fantasy that will feature elements of horror and tragedy, which may be too upsetting for some. So please be mindful of this story’s darker aspects before reading.

This series occasionally includes the following adult subject matter:

- Adult Language

- Sexual Content

- Mental Health Topics

- Substance Abuse

- Emotional Abuse

- Physical Abuse

- Sexual Violence

- Physical Violence

- Blood/Gore

- Death on Page

- Self-Harm

- Suicide

I will mark episodes accordingly using Tapas's Mature Content feature.

Chapter 1

Death and the Maiden

Sunday, October 24, 1999

11:45 p.m.

Arnold tried to wash the blood from his hands, but a stubborn red film remained. He cursed and wiped his hands dry with several paper towels. He brushed his oily bangs from his pale face and checked his reflection. Four red lines ran across his cheek and nose where Molly had scratched him. “Bitch,” Arnold muttered. He pulled on his jacket and left the washroom.

No one was around as Arnold wandered from the rest stop into Briarthorne Park, following a brick path lit by the occasional decorative lamppost. He suspected the police were already at Molly’s apartment. She had screamed loud enough to stir the entire building. Arnold contemplated what to do next as he went farther into the park.

I didn’t even know Molly, he thought. So the police shouldn’t suspect me. Arnold’s hands trembled, and he folded his arms to keep them still. Then again, maybe I should take a hike for a while. Just until things blow over. He checked his pockets and produced a couple of crumpled bills he’d snatched from Molly’s purse. Not enough. Looks like I’ll have to hitch.

The sound of dress shoes against the pavement caught Arnold’s attention. He glanced back through the darkness and discerned a figure in the distance. He hid behind a hedgerow as the shadow came closer. Arnold could just make out that the stranger wore an expensive-looking suit, trenchcoat, and fedora. He reached into his jacket and pulled out his Glock 19. He smiled, expecting a big payoff from this well-dressed victim. Then the stranger passed beneath a flickering streetlight, and Arnold noticed an odd smirk on his bearded face.

What’s he smiling for? Arnold wondered. The figure walked past, and Arnold stepped out from behind the hedgerow. He pressed the gun into the gentleman’s back. “Give me all your money,” he demanded in as tough a voice as he could muster.

The stranger released a scornful laugh. He was brawny and stood at six and a half feet, towering over Arnold. He whirled around in the blink of an eye, black trenchcoat billowing with the movement, and grabbed Arnold’s arm, effortlessly snapping his wrist. Arnold screamed in pain, the gun falling from his limp hand.

“Little pissant,” the large gentleman sneered, seizing Arnold by the shoulders. His hate-filled eyes shifted from a cornflower blue to an infernal red, and his lips parted to reveal a pair of razor-sharp fangs.

“Oh my God!” Arnold cried.

The gentleman paused a moment, as if waiting to see if the youth’s invocation would have any effect. He grinned and embraced Arnold. “It seems God has forsaken you.”

“No, let me go!” Arnold sobbed. “I don’t want to die!”

“Neither did Molly,” the vampire whispered, and he sank his fangs into Arnold’s throat.

*****

The sublime taste of blood flooded Ezekiel’s mouth, and his jaws tightened on Arnold’s neck. The young man struggled to break free, but he couldn’t escape Ezekiel’s iron grip. He writhed in agony for several moments, then wilted against Ezekiel’s chest. The vampire drained his victim to the very last drop, then let Arnold slip dead to the ground. A clock tower chimed in the distance, signaling the turn of midnight.

Ezekiel trembled in ecstasy as Arnold’s blood filled his being. He lifted his gaze to the overcast sky, and for a split second, the moon peeked through a slight break in the clouds. Vampires thrived in the light of a full moon, and Ezekiel’s skin tingled with pleasure when the numinous glow fell across his face. The dull chest pain he had felt for the past week faded away, his heart beating with new vigor. Ezekiel had no need for breath, but heaved a sigh of relief all the same, pressing a gloved hand against his chest. 

Ezekiel looked down at what remained of Arnold Cline, committing his name to memory. He made it a point to know all his victims’ monikers, having always regretted that he failed to learn the name of his first kill. Murder was a wicked business in any case, but Ezekiel felt that not knowing the names of those he slew somehow made the deed crueler. It wasn’t hard to glean their identities. Ezekiel could read minds, plucking his victims’ names from their thoughts as easily as picking up one of the autumn leaves scattered around his feet.

What a feeble creature you were, Ezekiel thought, nudging Arnold’s body with his toe. And yet you fancied yourself the predator. Ezekiel sniffed in disdain and dropped to one knee, scooping the lifeless body into his arms. And now comes the chore.

There was a fenced-off precipice nearby, overlooking the Briarthorne River. This waterway and the surrounding park were named for Patrick Briarthorne, a young boy who drowned in the river over a century ago. Ezekiel surveyed the area to make sure no one else was around, then leaped over the ten-foot screen in one bound, clearing the barbed wire on top. He alighted at the edge of the cliff, the roiling river twenty feet below.

Before disposing of the body, Ezekiel touched Arnold’s neck and used his alchemic power to heal the torn flesh, hiding the telltale bite mark. Most humans thought it was the bite that turned one into a vampire, but the curse was, in fact, spread through the consumption of vampiric blood. So Arnold would never trouble the world again.

“Thank you for your services,” Ezekiel said to the body in his arms. He tossed it from the high precipice, and Arnold’s remains splashed into the churning river. The corpse resurfaced momentarily, bobbing face down in the murky water, then vanished under the surface as the current whisked it away.

Ezekiel stood at the cliff’s edge for a few moments. The excitement of the hunt faded, and a bout of melancholy settled over him. He looked out toward the city, his gaze absorbing the beautiful neo-Gothic edifices with their pointed arches, ribbed vaults, and flying buttresses. There was light coming from countless faraway windows. Ezekiel longed to know the people within those bright windows. Were they alone this evening, as he was? Did they long for companionship, as he did? Ezekiel looked down at his hands, his black kidskin gloves hiding the inhuman claws and fur that would have exposed him for the monstrosity he was. He could feel the blood of his victims oozing through his veins, and his chest tightened with remorse.

“Bah!” Ezekiel snarled, repressing his insufferable guilt. He fixed his eyes on the cityscape before him. He’d spent the past four months establishing his dealership in town, putting down roots, and now the citizens of this city would henceforth be his people. It was time to introduce himself to his new community. Soon, there would be no more loneliness. Ezekiel held his arms out as if beckoning the populace of Eidolon City to his loving embrace.

If you're enjoying this series, please be sure to Like, Subscribe, Share with your friends, and leave a Comment. Thank you, and have a wonderful day!