A Thorn in the Night

Artwork by Nadjellah Mendoza

Two Nights Ago 

The sun sank beneath the skyline taking the light with it. Darkness was fast approaching, and with it all that thrived in the night. One such night inhabitant was strolling unconcerned down the cobblestone streets past tall concrete buildings. He didn’t appear much older than seventeen, his hair as black as a raven's wing, and skin as pale as the moonlight. He wore a dark coat against the chill, yet he didn't feel cold. He hadn't in a long time. 

The boy walked into a narrow alleyway between the twelve-storey buildings, stepping onto the darker cobblestones while avoiding the piles of rubbish, which a rat scurried out of. As the boy neared the other end of the alleyway, a man dressed in an overcoat stepped in to block his path. The boy stopped. The man's skin was less pale than the boy's: more natural. The man knew this. The boy met the man's glare in silence, waiting for him to state his intentions so he could move on. 

‘I know what you are,’ the man stated. 

They were silent for a minute before the boy let out a sigh, ‘You're one of those people.’ 

The man withdrew a thin silver stake from his coat, brandishing it against the boy. 

‘I'm the one who will end your reign of terror.’ The man lunged. 

They were the same words the boy had heard them all say before. And just like all the times before, he sidestepped the man’s lunge while grabbing his outstretched wrist. The man grunted at the boy's unnatural strength, kicking at the boy's legs to try and free himself. The boy anticipated it, however, moving in front of the man. He snapped the man's wrist, causing him to howl and drop the stake. The boy kicked it across the alleyway before grabbing the man by the back of his coat, ripping it in half. Silver stakes fell out, dropping onto the cobblestones.  

The man tried to reach with his good hand for another stake before it rolled away, but before he could the boy threw him against a wall and sank his sharp fangs directly into the man's throat. The man struggled against the bite but was no match against the inhuman strength that pinned him in place. The boy sucked in the thick and bitter taste of the man’s blood. He'd prefer something sweeter, but this would have to do for the night. He drank until there was little blood left in the man, ripping skin from the throat and spitting it onto the street, before throwing the man onto the cobblestones along with it. His head lolled to the side at the impact revealing white bone against the red blood pouring out of the man's exposed throat. Lifeless eyes reflected the moon shining on his corpse. 

Satisfied the man was dead and wouldn’t be coming back, the boy’s eyes returned to the silver stakes littering the ground. He licked his fangs, pulling out a napkin from his coat to wipe away the blood from around his mouth. Once clean, he used the bloodied napkin to pocket one of the silver stakes before turning to walk away, his eyes slowly turning back from red to black as he re-emerged from the dark alleyway into the brighter night. 

One Hundred and Sixty-Two Years Ago 

Someone was watching him. He had felt the presence not long after leaving the island where he had lived his whole life. His shadow. He had always found comfort in the shadows, but lately they seemed too dangerous to offer reprieve. 

After quiet contemplation, he swallowed and mustered the courage to say, ‘Show yourself.’ 

At first, he thought it might just be his paranoia when only silence answered – everything still and quiet – until the shadows started to move on their own. The boy took a startled step back, his back hitting the hard concrete wall of one of the many buildings of the city. The shadows peeling from the walls and streets to form a humanoid shape midair. 

‘Shadow demon,’ the boy breathed. 

Not long ago, this city had a shadow demon infestation. Soldiers along with most of the city’s vampires had worked hard to eliminate those dangerous creatures of chaos. Clearly traces of them still survived. 

The shape twisted and turned until it revealed a girl who looked around the same age as himself. It no longer looked like the creatures made of moving shadow: without a mouth and eyes, hair or skin. Instead, her eyes, hair and clothes were all black, the tone of her skin warmer than his deathly pale. 

Amid the boy’s fear and panic was a trickle of confusion. He had never seen a shadow demon that looked human. 

‘What are you?’ the boy managed, his voice coming out high-pitched. 

‘I am what you said I was.’ The girl’s voice was no more than a whisper, yet the boy heard it clearly. 

‘But you look human,’ the boy pointed at her, as if it wasn’t obvious. 

‘What did you expect?’ Her voice was soft, like feathers falling. 

‘A monster,’ the boy said, immediately tensing and expecting retaliation. But the girl only tilted her head at his words. 

‘Your kind are expected to be monsters too,’ she said, stepping closer. The boy wanted to retreat to keep their distance but couldn't with the wall at his back. ‘Why did you kill those humans?’ 

The boy drew in a sharp breath, ‘They tried to kill me,’ he said, voice hoarse. ‘They wanted to hurt me.’ 

‘Why?’ 

‘They thought I was the monster’ – a single tear escaped the boy's eye – ‘they tried to hurt me just because they wanted to, and yet they called me the monster.’ 

They were silent for a moment before the girl said, ‘We didn't choose to be different.’ 

‘I should've been more careful,’ the boy said, swallowing a sob as he tried to stop the memory of that night from rushing back. ‘If I had been paying attention, I never would've been changed.’ 

‘Why are you blaming yourself for someone else's actions?’ 

The boy opened his mouth, but nothing came out, his thoughts spiralling. He had asked himself that same question but never found an answer. He returned his attention back to the shadow demon, deciding to ask her an easier question than trying to answer hers, ‘Why have you been following me?’ 

‘You are a curiosity,’ she answered. ‘You always hid in the shadows, sought out the comfort of darkness. Plus, I have no reason to be in this world other than to avoid those capable of killing me.’ She was close enough to touch him now. The boy recoiled at the thought, which made the girl take a few steps back. ‘If I wanted to hurt you, I would've already done so. I understand the pain of being changed.’ 

‘You weren't always a shadow demon?’ he wheezed. 

She shook her head, ‘It was not my choice. And turns out they made a mistake.’ 

The boy shuddered at the implications – had never thought much on whether shadow demons were turned or born. All he knew was their purpose was to cause chaos and destruction. 

‘What did you do?’ 

‘My creators are dead now.’ She caught his eye at his sharp inhale of breath, ‘Would you like to do the same?’ 

Would he? Against his will, his thoughts catapulted him back to that night almost a year ago. His surprise at the stranger’s sudden appearance. The hopeless struggle against a strength he knew he couldn't beat. The sudden feeling of emptiness and loss after the deed was done. Of how he felt like he was a different person – the boy he was before dead, killed by the vampire who thought he was letting a boy live. A cruel mercy, one the boy knew the vampire gleefully made him live with. 

Amongst the fear and confusion of his memories, anger reigned. That vampire did this. And he would pay for turning him. 

The girl was waiting for his answer. After sorting out his thoughts, voice firm and clear he said, ‘I will find the vampire who turned me. And I will kill him.’ 

Yesterday 

All chattering stopped when the boy entered the mansion's ballroom. Even the music paused at his appearance. The boy said nothing and kept walking, passing other vampires giving him a wide berth and ignoring their stares of fear or disgust, until he reached the three vampires he was looking for. 

‘Viscount,’ the boy greeted, nodding once at the Viscountess and their son. 

‘Thorn,’ the Viscount said tightly, giving him a smile that didn't reach his eyes. ‘What a pleasant surprise. If I remember correctly, you refused our invitation last month – what changed your mind?’ 

The Viscount beckoned for the music to resume before waving at a servant with a tray holding glasses of blood. The Viscount took one, offering it to Thorn. 

‘I already ate,’ Thorn said curtly. The Viscount shrugged and drank the glass. When he was done, Thorn said in a matter-of-fact voice, ‘You wanted to see me.’ 

‘I see you had your shadow demon spying on us again,’ the Viscount's son said with a smile, and making a show of looking around. ‘It's not nice to spy on people.’ 

‘Neither is planning someone's death.’ 

‘Now, boy, this is hardly the first time we planned to kill you,’ the Viscountess dismissed. 

‘It is the first time someone I didn't know ordered it.’ 

‘You may not know him, but Scullen has been a vampire for at least a century longer than you, if I’m not mistaken.’ 

‘Then how come I've never heard of him?’ 

‘You might have seen him’ – the Viscount’s son said, absent-mindedly swirling his glass – ‘he was active in the time you got turned. Known for turning people against their will. I’m certain he recently told us he was on that island of yours at one time, in fact.’ 

Thorn stiffened, looking up at the familiar smiling lips of the Viscount's son.   

‘Looks like I’ve finally got your attention,’ the Viscount's son continued. ‘You've reached the end of your hunt, Thorn.’ 

‘Where is he?’ Thorn said, voice low but clear. 

The Viscount took another drink from the tray. ‘Last I saw him, he was staying in one of those abandoned mansions due to be demolished. A pile of rubbish, that place was.’ 

‘Which one?’ 

‘Blackwood.’ 

Thorn turned to leave, the other vampires still in the same positions from when he entered. As he reached the main door to the ballroom, the Viscount’s exasperated tone called out, ‘Keep your vengeance off the streets, please.’ 

Thorn opened the wooden double doors to outside, descending the stairs down to the cobblestone path leading through the gardens and to the front gates. He passed through them and straight towards the nearby buildings before finally reaching an alleyway where a girl leaned against the wall, her black hair and clothing blending in with the shadows. 

‘You heard?’ Thorn asked her. 

She nodded. ‘He looks to be waiting.’ 

‘So, I will come,’ Thorn kept his voice calm, but his face twisted, betraying over a century of rage burning inside. ‘I'll see you there.’ 

He turned to leave when the girl said, ‘You sure it's him?’ 

‘Even if it’s not,’ Thorn said, back still turned, ‘it's still worth a shot.’ 

‘So, you wouldn't mind if we check again?’ 

‘You think it's a trap?’ 

‘Why wouldn't it be?’ 

Thorn was silent, thinking through his options before he made a decision. ‘Very well. We'll meet again at Blackwood tomorrow night.’ 

He left the alleyway as the girl melted and became the shadows, returning to a shadow demon's true form. 

One Hundred and Fifty-Nine Years Ago 

The boy stood surrounded by corpses, covered in blood that wasn't his own. Before him were three other vampires. A man, woman and boy who looked a few years older than himself. For a moment they just stared at one another, a dishevelled boy clutching the body of a woman whose neck he had just snapped before being interrupted by the more put together vampires. 

‘So, you're the one responsible for all the massacres. You could've just drunk their blood and left,’ the man said, disdain dripping from his features. 

The boy growled, baring his bloody fangs, ‘And turn them into vampires?’ 

‘Well, there are other ways to get food,’ the woman said. ‘Ones that don't involve turning or killing.’ The woman waved toward their surroundings. 

The boy threw down the dead woman with the rest of the bodies. ‘You still take their blood.’ 

‘What's your name, boy?’ the man asked after a pause. 

‘Don't have one. The name I had belongs to a dead boy.’ 

The woman sighed, ‘Your bloody killings are giving us a bad reputation.’ 

‘A deserved one,’ the boy replies. 

‘The point is you’re making our lives harder.’ 

‘We don't have lives; we're already dead. The only reason you keep going is to eat humans’ – the boy looked down at the gore he had caused before meeting their eyes once more – ‘or to force others to share your suffering.’ 

‘Not all of us are suffering,’ the man said. ‘You'll tire of making a spectacle out of this. Sooner or later, you'll stop altogether.’ 

‘I won't stop until I find the one who turned me,’ the boy hissed. 

‘Well, wasn't us,’ the boy spoke, grinning. ‘We aim to make everyone happy.’ 

The boy didn't relax. ‘And I aim to make sure they're dead.’ 

‘You don't have to be a thorn in our side while you're at it,’ exasperates the woman. 

‘Ooh, thorn! We should call him that!’ The other boy clapped his hands eagerly. ‘What do you think, Thorn?’ 

The boy walked away. ‘Call me whatever you want. It doesn't change anything.’ 

Last Night 

Thorn stood before the gates of the abandoned mansion, its walls a mouldy colour that might have once been white, now covered in overgrown vines that tangled over the dusty windows. Something moved between one of the cracked panes. There and gone in a flash, making Thorn wonder if he imagined it. A chill went down his spine, reminding him of the same feeling from over a century ago – of being watched. But what awaited him now wasn't a shadow demon. 

‘What did you find?’ the shadow demon asked, appearing out of nowhere. 

Thorn tugged at his gloves, keeping his eyes on the mansion. The silhouette was back, watching him from one of the windows. Taunting him. 

Without another word, Thorn ripped the gates apart as if they were merely twigs, passing the front lawn to kick down the front doors, one of them falling out of the hinges to hit the floor with a crack, which reverberated around the empty entryway. He froze when he saw the familiar face that haunted him for over a century. 

Grinning, Scullen said in a smooth and all too familiar voice, ‘Hello, child.’ 

One Hundred and Sixty-Three Years Ago 

‘Hello, child.’ 

The boy turned, startled. A figure stood in the corner of his family's shed, smiling. Moonlight from the small windows above illuminated the man's unnaturally beautiful face. 

‘What are you doing here?’ the boy asked cautiously, taking a step back. His mind screamed at him to run, but found the man had soundlessly moved to now block the door. 

The man grinned, revealing sharp teeth. Before the boy could think of what to do next the vampire had him pinned against the floorboards, the wood cracking beneath the force of the push. Inhaling to scream for help, the boy felt the sharp bite of teeth on his neck, cutting off the building scream. He tried to push the man off, kicking and clawing against the body, but the man didn't give any indication of noticing the boy's struggles beneath him. 

As the bite sank deeper, a strangled cry escaped the boy’s lips, which the vampire quickly muffled with an arm. The boy bit the arm as hard as he could muster in his panic, but once again there was no reaction. The man simply kept drinking his blood, only removing his bite to mutter, ‘Always a joy to hear their struggles.’ 

It was over as quickly as it started, the boy barely able to draw breath. He felt the vampire’s weight leave his bleeding body. The blood wasn't just flowing from his neck – his entire body ached, the vampire not satisfied with taking from one place, biting wherever was uncovered. 

The boy was fast losing consciousness, but the vampire’s sultry voice still got through the haze, ‘Now that wasn't so bad, was it? I look forward to seeing you again. Maybe then you'll last longer than you have tonight.’ 

Midnight

‘Well?’ Scullen tilted his head when Thorn still stood frozen on the spot, his mind momentarily returning to that night over a century ago. Scullen appeared exactly as Thorn remembered him: dark hair grown past his ears and a beautiful face that hid the ugliness underneath, which could be said for most vampires, but especially for this vampire in particular. Who had taken his humanity and forced him to be a creature of the night. 

At that reminder, the fire that had been keeping him going relit and burned away the old fear that had resurfaced. This was the moment he had waited so long for. Thorn bared his fangs in a hiss, shifting his stance. 

Scullen's grin widened. 

‘My, you have grown child’ – he shifted his stance to match Thorn's, though kept his arms behind his back – ‘but will it be enough to match me?’ 

‘I spent over a century hunting,’ Thorn growled, ‘and here you are handing me my vengeance on a silver platter.’ 

‘Vengeance?’ Scullen said in mock offence. ‘Why, you should be thanking me child! You were nothing before I turned you! I made you powerful, or so I have heard from your reputation as a thorn in the side of vampire society.’ 

‘I never asked for it.’ 

‘You have to admit you enjoyed it though, don't you?’ At Thorn's glare, Scullen added, ‘Or perhaps you enjoyed it more when I first turned you. It felt good, didn't it? That was what your screams were for right?’ 

Thorn lunged, but Scullen anticipated it, whipping out a sheet of fabric from behind him and throwing it at Thorn. Thorn, momentarily blinded by the silk curtain, looked up to Scullen lunging for him. Thorn had always felt shorter compared to other vampires and was reminded of this point as the much taller Scullen pinned him to the rotting floor. For a second, Thorn’s mind transported him back to that fateful night – they were in almost the same position as that first time. 

Scullen bared his fangs in a wide smile but froze, looking down at his chest to the now buried silver stake impaled into his heart. 

‘Thought I'd return it,’ Thorn said as Scullen's smile fell, eyes widening in disbelief. ‘You left it with that hunter, right?’ 

Scullen went still, slumping over Thorn before he could respond. Thorn pushed the dead vampire off him, rising. Scullen’s shock now forever etched into his still open mouth. 

‘He's dead,’ the shadow demon said beside him, voice stoic as usual. 

‘I'm not taking any chances, Shadow. Cut off his head please.’ 

She gathered the shadows into the shape of a sword, then sliced Scullen's head off. It rolled away, blood seeping into the floor. He had eaten recently, probably turning another against their will during the process. 

‘How do you feel?’ Shadow asked after a moment of silence. 

‘I'm glad he's finally dead,’ Thorn said slowly, trying to untangle his racing thoughts. His century-old hunt was finished. He always believed it would be freeing, a heavy weight that would finally be lifted off his chest after over a century. But as he stood over his tormentor’s corpse, Thorn didn’t feel much different. He realised then it didn’t actually change anything. He'll still be a vampire forever, just how Shadow was still a shadow demon. She had warned him vengeance may not remove the hollowness in their bones. He didn’t expect the words to be true. 

Scullen deserved a much bloodier end, but Shadow’s own story of how she had almost died attempting to make her creators suffer before death went as a warning. She only managed to kill them because of a backup plan they didn't see coming, taking advantage of their lowered guard thinking they’d had her defeated. There was at least comfort in the fact Scullen died forgotten and pathetic. 

‘What will you do now?’ 

‘I should repay the Viscount and his family for their tip. Maybe find human volunteers to get blood the clean way for them,’ he paused. ‘I haven't really thought that far ahead. A part of me didn't think I'd ever find him.’ 

Shadow shrugged. ‘No need to rush. We have time.’