Virginia - 1763

Five years had passed since Alexander’s trek into Venezuela. He left with the knowledge he sought and now turned his attention toward his goal. But with his new passion came an unforeseen challenge. The relationship with his son.
     Zachary knew of his father’s obsession; however, chose not to involve himself. He had already made peace with his mother’s death, but it was Alexander’s prerogative to continue grieving. Zachary begged to know the truth about the years concerning his father’s disappearance. When he did, it left him feeling even more estranged.
     Upon his return from Venezuela, Alexander left his house in Williamsburg and moved twenty miles west where he constructed a new house. Hunters, sympathetic to his cause, came to live at the house, as well. Alexander’s vision was coming into its own.
     A carriage and six riders approached the new house. Alexander stood on the veranda and waited. As the carriage and riders came to a stop, one man dismounted and reported to Alexander.
     “We killed four as they slept,” he began, stepping onto the veranda, “but a female escaped. I wouldn’t be too concerned about her.”
     Alexander waved the carriage and riders away. They continued on and headed for the stables behind the house.
     “Where is my son?”
     “He wished to remain in town,” the hunter dared to explained. “He said that he will return before sunset.”
     Annoyance settled within Alexander. “I told you not let him out of your sight.”
     “I am sorry, but he was determined on spending some time there.”
     At the age of twenty, his son was showing the maturity of a two year old. And with all of the agonizing arguments and attempts to give his son structure, Zachary continued to withdraw further from his father’s rules. Solace was an object Zachary found away from his home.

Zachary Ingram. From child to man, he carried great strength of heart and loyalty to those he saw fit. But to his father he was ungrateful at best, nothing more than a stubborn whelp, showing insurmountable ignorance toward the world around.
     He stood a few inches taller than his father and carried the same long, dark hair as his mother. The passion for a life of gentry had become a side thought. He, of course, knew when to don his proper facade in the right company. But the company Alexander now kept were those of a curious nature.
     His blatant act in disobeying his father’s orders wasn’t rooted in personal gain. But he knew that his father would become furious. On the other hand, he could see this from a different perspective. It was a chance to live outside of his father’s odd obsession.
     Zachary spent his time meeting with friends and acquaintances. As the sun neared the horizon, he remember his father’s words on the importance of staying indoors at night. He didn’t dispute the overzealousness for safety, only that others could live their lives without the true knowledge of the world and survive to be none the wiser. Zachary wanted to live that way, but he couldn’t forget the things he had seen.
     The death of his mother was the beginning of this new life. That night remained as vivid as any memory could. And he had seen many horrific scenes since then. Including the early morning hours this very day. He never acted in the killing of the creatures. He merely aided in preparing the weapons and disposing the bodies. He hated living in The Colonies.
     Many times he wanted to live with his grandfather in England. But as correspondence would mention of Edric’s failing health, Alexander was against any trip to England. Zachary became confused by his father’s lack of compassion. Alexander replied by mentioning Edric’s disappointment and disapproval. After the death of Abigail, it was Edric’s hopes that his son and grandson would live at his estate in England. Alexander’s response was adamant. Edric saw this as an abandonment of complete rationality.
     Zachary sat straight in his saddle as he began the long ride back to his home. He didn’t allow himself to become nervous at the thought of riding alone. It was the setting sun that caused his stomach to twist. He urged his horse into a fast trot.
     Six miles from the house, Zachary sent his horse into a full gallop. The whole act of disobeying Alexander was starting to seem childish in his eyes. The sanctuary of the house beckoned him. There he would feel safe among the many hunters.
     Zachary pulled back on the reins. The horse came to a reluctant stop.
     A woman stood before him on the path. She wore a light blue dress, that of upper class, and fine jewelry. Aside from her wealthy attire, her hair was disheveled with loose strands hanging in front her eyes and framing her face. Her lifeless eyes gazed upon the rider.
     One half of Zachary wanted to help the woman. She could have been a lost traveler or someone who fell into ill fortune. But the other half kept him at a distance. For a well-dressed woman, the empty countryside was no place for her, ill fortune or not.
     The horse began to snort the air and paw at the ground.
     “I remember your scent,” the woman began, “and the others… I remember, as well.”
     Zachary recalled the morning of their planned attack. On the outskirts of Williamsburg, they had watched the house for two weeks until they were secure in their course of action. The morning went off as scheduled. The vampires slept in the cellar, leaving them with no escape. As the hunters entered and began, one of the female vampires ran for the exit and into the morning sun. Several hunters searched for her in the surrounding woods but found no trace.
     And now, looking upon the woman, Zachary could see burn marks on her skin. He then noticed the dirt on her hands and dress where she had desperately dug in the ground to hide from the sun.
     Zachary turned his horse sharply and headed away from the vampire. A few strides into fleeing he felt a strong pressure on his shoulders, pulling him to the ground. The horse reared up and lost his balance.
     The weight of the animal fell onto Zachary. He lay there, afraid to move.
     The horse let out a guttural scream as he began to thrash about. The horse stopped moving. In pain, Zachary squirmed free as he struggled to stand. His eyes landed on his horse. He froze.
     The woman knelt by the animal’s belly, her hands covered in blood. The horse’s insides spilled out before her feet. She looked at the defenseless human.
     Forcing himself to move, Zachary stumbled back, his body abandoning him. He tried to run but the pain in his legs and waist became to great. With each step he knew that he had no chance of survival.
     A pair of hands gripped onto the back of his coat and flung him into the base of a tree. Zachary rolled to his side and began to cough as his breath left him.
     The vampire didn’t allow the human anytime to recover. She threw a hand around his neck and forced him up, his feet dangling above the ground.
     “If curiosity is a trait unto you, then know my name as Nora,” she said, sneering.
     Choking under her grip, Zachary held onto her wrist in an attempt to relieve the pressure. But his own strength couldn’t compare to the vampire’s. He was going to lose this battle, of that he was certain.
     The vampire continued talking, her fangs now visible. “But from this night, and ever night henceforth, you will address me as you master.” She threw her hand to the side, sending Zachary into the air. His body landed on the ground.
     Zachary felt the vampire turn him over and her weight upon his stomach and chest. He struggled to break free but her hand was at his throat once more. With a violent tug, she ripped away the gathered collar of his shirt and forcefully turned his head. Her lips drew back as she bit into him, tearing his skin. The pain in Zachary’s legs became overshadowed by the fierceness of her bite. She buried her teeth in as deep as she could then pulled away, ripping through his flesh. Her mouth returned and she began to drink feverishly.
     The agony in his body faded and his struggling decreased until he lay motionless. He felt his heart slow along with his breathing.
     This was his death.
     A flash entered his mind. It was the night of his mother’s death. He looked into the eyes of his dying mother, then the eyes of her killer. It was her death and now it was his. He could see Abigail smiling. He could see her approval. Then peace. Zachary was ready to see her again.
     The pressure on his neck eased as a new one came from behind his head, lifting him up.
     Mother?
     He opened his eyes against a sea of white light. A brilliant form appeared from its depths and took him into its arms. Zachary held onto her—his mother. With hands of comforting light, she caressed her frightened child. The light dimmed.
     His senses returned with cruelty. The form of his mother blended into the cold shape of the vampire. He wanted to push her away but his arms wouldn’t move. He felt his head guided toward her.
     She placed Zachary’s mouth to the base of her neck. Blood passed through his lips, quietly calling him to drink. One of the things he learned from his father was to never take in the blood of a vampire or werewolf. Though his mind obeyed that rule, his body wanted to live. Zachary began to drink.
     Jumbled thoughts and emotions surged through him like a flooded river. He could feel her hatred and pain fueled by the death of her children. It was revenge she sought. He knew that now. In her eyes he saw himself as the monster—he and the other hunters who stormed into their sanctuary, killing with prejudice. To survive and avenge their senseless deaths, it was what drove her into the morning light.
     His body took over and pulled her close as he placed one hand around her back and the other the side to her neck. The strength returned fast to his arms and his grip on the vampire increased.
     A new pain enter him. It started out mute, deep within his gut. He ignored it and continued to drink.
     The vampire grabbed a fist full of his hair and ripped him away.
     Zachary collapsed to the ground. The pain moved inside, creeping its way toward his limbs. As the pain reached its height, he found himself giving in. His eyes closed as he accepted his death.

Water. Dripping water.
     Zachary’s eyes fluttered open then closed. He was still alive.
     Where he once felt pain, he felt a cool numbness. His hands touch solid rock beneath him. He was in a cave. At least he assumed he was.
     A warm pressure pushed against his body. The force kept him from opening his eyes. This warmth sung to him, telling him to sleep.
     What was happening?
     The sun. That was the answer.
     Then his acceptance came true. He was dead. It wasn’t the death he had chosen but it was bestowed upon him, nonetheless.
     He continued his sleep.
     The hours passed by within seconds. Though his eyes remained closed, he could feel the vampire move towards him, her bite returning to his neck as she began to feed, once more. When she finished, she placed her open wrist to his mouth.
     With her blood came more of the same heavy emotion. Both moved within him, filling his inner core. He began to grieve amidst her pain. Their actions against her children were unforgivable. It was becoming clear to him.
     The vampire pulled away and left his side.
     Another day would come and go, followed by a third. Each night she would feed from him and he from her, and each time he saw more glimpses of her pain, her anguish. They needed to feel her what she felt, to know what he knew.
     The hunters had to die.
     Alexander had to die.

Night fell upon the manor.
     The searching for Alexander’s son had to wait for a fourth night. But with each day yielding no results, they began to lose hope.
     Alexander blamed himself. If anything had happened to his son… He didn’t want to image the possibility. Zachary was alive. He could feel it.
     He wondered if this was Zachary’s way to place a little fear in him. With all of the arguments they’ve had, it wouldn’t surprise him much. As a result of one argument when Zachary was sixteen, he headed for a town north of Williamsburg. He returned a day later. This frightened Alexander to the point where they had no arguments for two months. And perhaps this was the same.
     Alexander closed the door to his room and took a seat at his writing desk. There were many letters he needed to finish.
     Outside of the manor, two hunters stood guard. They kept their conversation low and their ears sharp. Nothing of danger ever came to the people here. But it was the constant threat that called for the guards. But on this night, no guards could stop the force coming their way.
     As Alexander finished his last letter, a light tapping sounded throughout the room. He opened the door, expecting to see one of the hunters, but his eyes fell onto his son.
     “Zachary?” he asked as if doubting his own vision. “Where have you been?”
     He looked at his son’s clothing and saw stains of dirt and blood. His hair was loose and unkempt, spilling freely over his shoulders. But it was his eyes that caught his attention. Once youthful and blue, his eyes were now a cold, glazed over. They were lifeless.
     “I know now, father,” Zachary said. “You are the weak one.”
     A slew of emotions welled up within Alexander: rage, sadness, anger, and disgust. It was as he feared. This wasn’t his son.
     As Alexander threw the door closed, his son advanced forward, slamming his weight into him. The force of the hit caused Alexander to lose his footing and stumble.
     Zachary closed the door. His eyes searched the room for his father. He found the trembling man standing with a pistol aimed at his son’s chest.
     The pistol fired.
     Staggering back, Zachary felt the bullet rip into his chest and through his heart. The bullet was silver, meant for the body of a werewolf, not a vampire. The ball of metal only slowed Zachary for a moment. But in this moment, Alexander tossed the weapon to the side and grabbed a crossbow.
     Zachary knew of his father’s next course of action. Rushing forward, he attempted to disarm him, but found the tail-end of the crossbow smashing into his face. He fell to the ground, cradling the pain.
     Alexander took this time to set and load the crossbow. As the arrow slid into place, Zachary’s hands found his father’s shoulders and pulled him close. The bite came quick. His teeth pulled at the skin as he began to feed.
     This was what Zachary wanted. He had chosen his father for his first kill. And with this choice, his sire would be proud.
     A muffled snap came between their bodies.
     Zachary removed his teeth and found himself unable to swallow. He stepped back, his eyes dropping to his chest. Sticking out of his body from an odd angle was the end of an arrow. The pain started off quiet at first. The arrow had entered near his lower ribs and stopped just as the tip pierced his heart. His legs grew numb.
     Zachary looked up at his father and backed away, not out of shock but fear. As his legs left him, his body collapsed to the floor. Alexander’s blood moved within him, awaking fragments of his mind that were sealed away. The memory of the past three nights crawled forth. She did this to him. With her blood, she bound him to her. He was her puppet—her ghoul. But the delicate strings of her command severed under the sharp pull of his father’s blood.
     Alexander reloaded the crossbow. He watched as Zachary rolled onto his side and removed the numbing arrow from his chest. He remained on the floor with his eyes staring beyond his father. A few gasps of unneeded air enter his parted mouth.
     “Zachary…” Alexander began. His mind was a jumbled mess, as well. This was his nightmare in its truest of forms. “No… No. You’re… my son.” He raised the crossbow and took careful aim through his forming tears. “You understand. I have to.”
     Zachary lay motionless. His eyes returned to their youthful blue, but the two menacing teeth remained visible, still glistening with blood.
     The crossbow lowered.
     “She sent me,” Zachary whispered through the returning pain. “She sent me here. I remember clearly. You sent the hunters who killed her children. And it was her plan to send me.” He sat up and wiped the away blood from his mouth. He then realized how close he came to fulfilling her wishes. “Oh God. I could have… I almost—”
     “Killed me?” Alexander assumed correctly. He raised the crossbow. “I am sorry.”
     “No. I am sorry.”
     Before Alexander could react, Zachary was upon him once more. He tore the crossbow from his father’s hands and pinned him to the wall.
     “If you coming hunting for me, I will think no ill of you. But know that I will never again seek you out. To you, I am dead.” He released his father and stepped back, appalled at his new strength. He then headed for the door and out of the manor.

His son was dead. As agonizing as the realization had been, Alexander accepted the truth. He sent no hunters after him, nor secretly wished for his return. That part of his life had come to an end.
     Two nights after the attack, the body of a female vampire was found on the road leading up to the manor. Her head had been severed and placed along side the body. There were no signs hinting toward her killer, but none where needed. Alexander knew this Zachary’s doing. As he looked upon the vampire’s corpse, he understood what it meant. Zachary would be no threat to him or any of his men.
     Alexander continued on with his crusade, drawing attention from those he hunted. Rumors began to spread through the human communities—rumors mentioning of devilish acts being preformed within the house. The rumors soon grew and triggered fear within the humans.
     On one spring night, eight years after the death of his son, a group of humans, armed with muskets and pistols, set fire to the house. Several of Alexander’s hunters were killed in the attack.
     For twenty-one years, Alexander traveled up and down the east coast, looking for others who shared his same cause. Time came when he began searching for a new place to call home.
     It was in 1791 when he turned his attention west. He became drawn to the seclusion of the Allegheny Mountains. He wanted to abide his time, to properly establish himself. Aging was no longer an obstacle to him. The man in Venezuela saw to that little problem. Alexander had all of the time he needed.
     His traveling took him to a young town called Lewisburg. Guided by the help of several local trappers, he headed northwest for two days. At the end of the second day, he found the site for his new home.
     Many who lived in Lewisburg saw Alexander as a foolish rich man. If any house were to be built, it would be close to a town and not two days away. Some also tried to frighten him by telling stories of vengeful Indians and spirits. But Alexander turned his ears from them.
     With as much supplies as he could order, he began the construction of his new hime. Those whom he met on his travels helped in his endeavor, along with some men looking for work. Alexander paid them well. Money was no worry to him. His father’s death left him with plenty.
     It would take Alexander many years before he became comfortable enough to fully spread his wings. This was when he met a group of eager hunters.
     Victor, Ethan, Nathaniel, Stephen, and feisty Emily. It was a new partnership that would change the face of Alexander’s cause.
     Working well into the late 19th century and beyond, his reputation began to grow. But with his notoriety among other hunters, he had to forge his secrets carefully. To those within SEVEN, he was the descendent of Alexander Ingram. But to some living within his manor, his past was well-known.