Excerpt from "IN THE BLOOD: Jacyn's Journey - Book One"

          I sat outside that night, alone, as I usually was, trying to find something in the darkness to console my ailing spirit. I was still struggling with this strange identity, even though many months had passed. I felt as though I still just didn't know me, as if I'd become a completely different person, if I were really even a person at all. I was still alive and breathing, my heart still beat hard enough for me to feel it in my temples when I thought too much, and I felt enough to know that I hated what I had become, and I could do nothing about it. I knew what I was, and I also knew that pretty much everything I'd ever read about my type was just a concoction of imaginative fabrications. I knew what I was, but I didn't know who I was anymore.

          I sat in the brisk cold of the night, gazing into the somber gloom of the sky, watching, as an occasional cloud would partially eclipse my view of the moon and stars. I remembered back to my childhood, that time of wonder and innocence, when everything was new and the world was so large, when anything was possible and I believed. The moon and stars held such mystery and magic all those years ago, and I would wish upon stars and talk to the moon as if it could hear me, as though it was some great wise thing in the sky I could confide my juvenile angst in. I used to believe that the moon was alive, and it could hear me, and it was the only one that truly understood me.

          The night sky had become just a big nothing. My adolescent playground of dreams had become a bland, silent sheet of coldness and meaningless little lights. There was no comfort or solace to be found in the night, at least not like I had hoped. I was just cold and disappointed and hungry. I had instinctively looked around to make sure I was alone, and then tugged a cigarette between my lips from the pack and lit it, blowing a plume of light gray smoke out into the air in front of me. I had resolved that I had grown up, that nothing was ever going to be what it once was, and that I was foolish for ever thinking that I might be able to find even a smattering of the joy of boyhood after all that had happened. Not then. Not ever.

          I looked back up to the sky once again, as though something might have changed while I had looked away to light the cigarette, only to be disappointed again. There was nothing about the moon that seemed wise or understanding now. It was just a cold fucking rock out in space, and the stars, which had long served as an anonymous audience to my "moon confessions", were now just twinkling small pieces of worthless decoration not even meriting a solid look.

          It hadn't taken me very long to realize that there was nothing special about the night for my kind. It was all just a distorted falsehood, another element of the nightmarish tales of cursed men and women. It was one more myth for me to discover and discard, and I left the night feeling no more at peace than I had started it. I only felt more alone and more inclined to maintain my tacit distance from others. I felt as though the hurt would never end, but only get worse.

          I glanced around the park again and took another drag from the cigarette, and after I let the smoke escape from my lips and nostrils, I suddenly felt an odd presence, and quickly spun on my left heel, my right foot landing about a foot-and-a-half behind my left. My legs were bent slightly and most of my weight rested back on my right leg, my left arm was in front of me and bent with my fist at waist height, my right fist was pulled close to my ribs. The unexpected and fast shift in my posture had been enough to startle the presence I had spun to face, and she quickly stepped back away from me while squeaking out her alarm.

          “WHOA!” she screeched, her hands quickly coming up before her in fear. “I didn’t mean to startle you, vampire-man.”

          She was anything but threatening, and I quickly felt stupid for reacting as I had, but she had indeed startled me. With my senses as heightened as they were, I thought it was impossible for anyone to sneak up on me as she had, but when she had moved close enough to me by bringing herself within about six feet, I simply knew that she was there.

          “What did you just call me?” I queried, relaxing from my stance and drawing another drag from the cigarette that was still squeezed between my lips. I was still trying to figure out how she had gotten so close without me noticing, but I was distracted by something else about her that I couldn’t quite put a finger on. For a moment, I could’ve sworn I heard her heart beating.

          Before me stood what could easily have been a teen beauty pageant winner, a prom queen, or a professional model. She was none of those things, through no fault of her own. She stood five-and-a-half feet tall, with a lithe, slender form that did not lack in femininity at all. Her complexion was an alabaster crème and unblemished, and her hair, which was straight and long enough to cover the small of her back, was naturally a dark brunette, though she had bleached it to a very pale blond. Her breasts were ample but not large, and her backside was firm, tight, and perfectly rounded. Her legs were long and toned, though a pair of thigh-high black leather boots occluded most of them from view. Her face was the image of girlish innocence; a small, pert nose, full, pouty lips, and bright, beautiful eyes, which were a deep brown, contrasting brilliantly against her pale skin and even paler hair. She wore a studded black leather jacket over a red-and-black lace corset top and a layered lace skirt that didn’t quite cover the upper halves of her thighs.

          “Don’t be alarmed, Nosferatu of Kung-Fu,” she giggled out. “I know who you are and what you are. You don’t have to hide it from me. I’m one, too. My name is Brooklynn, Brooklynn Marie Downey.” She flashed a bright smile at me, and even in the dimmer moonlight, I could clearly see her smaller fangs.