The club Red Velvet was an old one, just out of town and perfect for any guest. Young adults and teenagers alike gathered on the dance floor. Rave music pounded the walls, as the ever-growing mass of people moved like slaves to the beat. Next to the entrance was a bar filled with youth, drinking their troubles away. Amongst them was an old man, tapping the rim of his glass to the rhythm impatiently as he waited.

Where is he? the old man thought. He sighed as he ran a hand down his wrinkled face. He hated being around this many people.

“Long time no see, old man,” said a voice that suddenly came from behind him. The old man groaned at the comment.

“Took you long enough, you know I hate places like this. Why did you ask me to meet you here of all places?” the old man asked frustrated as he turned around to face a young man, who took a seat next to him.

“Oh come on you know why, this is the safest place to talk about all this,” answered the young man as he tied the front of his bright auburn hair back so that it wouldn’t get in his face and then ordered them each a drink.

“No place is safe to talk about this, this is a dangerous and delicate subject,” the old man argued back as the bartender poured them their drinks.

“Don’t be so paranoid, old man,” said the young man as he downed the dark red liquid. “What with all the other vampires and lord knows what else lingering around, no one will pay attention to us. Plus we’re welcome here,” he finished setting down his glass.

After a few minutes to consider, the old man downed the red drink as well.

“How is Xander’s plan panning out?" the young man asked. 

The old man held up his hand to quiet him.

“We will get to that in a second,” the old man informed. “First I need to ask you a question.”

The young man sighed. “Well get on with it,” he said before ordering two more of the red liquors.

“Do you know where vampires come from?” the old man inquired. The young man looked back at him confused as the bartender poured their drinks.

“No one knows for sure…” he answered unsure of himself. At this the old man pulled out an old tattered book; the cover was made from genuine leather.

“Lately I have been doing some research and I happened upon this,” The old man said opening the book’s weathered pages. “It’s a journal of someone who claims to be the first vampire. I couldn’t decipher the first couple of logs, but later the language changes to one that I could identify. As far as I can make out it’s a story about three vampiran countries. The leaders were the Author, a man named Adam, and a woman named Lilith. The two men fell in love with Lilith and the two countries fought. Finally, the Author killed Adam and Lilith wept. She loved Adam and not the Author. That night Lilith prayed to the angels over Adam’s body. They granted her wish but at a great cost. Adam and all his people were no longer immortal and all their powers were taken away.”

The young man took a second to soak the story in.

“So then, Adam’s people became human?” the young man pondered. “Then what about Vampires, wasn’t this story about our past?”

“Yes I was getting to that,” the old man continued. “The angels were angry at the Author and his people for starting a petty war and for killing Adam. Their price to pay was more than 'becoming human'. The people and their leader began to hunger for blood. They became beasts who could not resist themselves; they tore at each other trying to calm their hunger. Only when half of the population died off did they figure out they needed the blood of humans. Temples and other holy ground became their enemy. They were cursed men, no longer welcome in any holy place. They kept their immortality so that they could live with this curse for all time. They started this petty war, and now they would have to fight it for all eternity; that was to be their curse,” the old man finished. For a while, both men sat in silence when suddenly, the young man began to laugh.

“What is it?” the old man asked.

“Not only did vampires come from the vampiran race, We came from the same race as humans.” The young man replied. “It’s kind of funny when you think about it.”

“I don’t see how…” the old man said eying his drink. The young man downed his glass before saying anything else.

 “Vampires treat humans like they are lesser, and yet we come from the same race. The common vampire is prideful and thinks they are at the top, but the vampirans are actually the oldest and we have been hunting them down for years. They’re all nearly extinct.” The young man replied chuckling.

“I still don’t see how that is funny,” the old man said swirling the red drink around in his cup. “I just wanted your opinion first, I think I will show this finding of mine to the council,” the old man said finally downing his glass as well.

“Well if it is true it’s pretty ironic considering how vampires think.  Anyway-” he said, waving the subject off. “- Can we talk about what we came here for? Wasn’t it you who didn’t want to be here?” the young man finished.

The old man chuckled at this.

“Well, I just wanted to share my findings. Now about the plan, nothing on my end has changed, but how about you?” the old man asked leaning closer to the young man.

“The bodyguard is dead, and from what I hear the girl has gotten herself into some trouble”.

The old man lifted a brow at this comment, “What sort of trouble?”

“My source wouldn’t say,” the young man replied as he sighed.

“Some source”.

“She can’t go through this again, we need to stop Xander,” the young man said, his throat tightening in anger. He handed his empty glass to the bartender for another drink.

“We just need to get to her before Xander or the guardians do,” the old man said also giving his glass to the bartender. “She has to choose her own path; if she wants to go through with it then she needs to do it her own way and we need to be there for her,” he said, placing a hand on the younger man’s shoulder.

“He can’t just force that on her!” the young man shouted, snatching the cup of red liquid from the table where the bartender set it; and then he turned around on the bar stool to face the crowd. “You know what he did to her, what she’s been through,” he said, studying the crowd with his intense emerald eyes as he sipped his drink. “He treats her like a-” Suddenly, his eyes caught an unexpected sight and he dropped his glass in surprise. Without a word, the old man followed his gaze to a young woman with amber eyes like glowing ember. She was anxiously twirling a strand of her long dark red hair, hair as dark as a pool of blood. Almost as soon as the old man had recognized her, the girl was pushed into the crowd.