"When you first wake up a vampire, you remember being human, clear as day. You're angry, and if you were a good person, you don't want the bite. You vow to never kill a human being as long as you are a vampire. You set out to be a 'tame monster.' And it works for a while... But then the hunger hits you. Not right away, but it grows. It grows and tears at your stomach lining like acid. All the while you're becoming weaker, disoriented. Like you haven't slept in a week. You stumble around until you can't suppress it any longer," Nate tensed up as he spoke; the final sentence was spoken through his teeth. His hands curled into fists, and I swore his eyes flashed red again.

Nate released his breath slowly, let his body relax, and hung his head. "One night, you forget your promise to yourself and attack. The hunger keeps you from letting go. It was a one-time mistake, one slip up, but it happens again, and again... until you've lost all the humanity you had dearly clung to. You step away from humanity because they are a cure to the hunger, a means to an end.

"Sooner or later a newly turned vampire will meet another. In this city they are recruited, sometimes by small factions. Occasionally, brawls between groups arise, generally over hunting territory. But all of them operate under the instructions of that man you had the pleasure of meeting earlier," his voice became grave. "Sir William Elliot Blackbourne, self proclaimed duke of this metropolis. He created a hierarchy of bloodthirsty vampires and took over the city nearly two hundred years ago. And vampires gotta eat. You can't control any army without feeding them. The 'gang violence' shit that's been all over the news, it's all vampire activity. A cover-up. Given to them by the corrupt officials and law enforcement. Some of them are nightwalkers. Others turn their backs, paid to ignore the truth. I don't blame them. A slow, painful death is granted to anyone who doesn't cooperate, and their families, too. Who'd believe them anyway?" Nate trailed off, realizing he was ranting.

"And he's been doing this for two hundred years?" I asked in disbelief, "That's impossible. Wait, how old are you?"

"It's entirely possible. Night walkers live hundreds of years, sometimes thousands. Blackborne has been alive longer than anyone knows. Born in Europe, he was an immigrant to this town, a mere trading post then, before reinventing himself to take power," He replied. I noted that he purposely avoided my latter question.

He sighed, took a seat on the couch across from me, and put his head in his palms. "He'll be after you."

"Him? What would an ancient vampire in control of an entire city want with me?"

"Blackborne doesn't like being made to look weak. He won't stand for a defeat. He'll want us both dead." Nate explained, troubled with the thought. I thought back to when the man bit my neck and became nervous.