6 Blood Runs Thick Here

1984 October

She ran before they could find her.

The violin was limp and lifeless in her hands, but the eight-year-old played it beautifully nonetheless. Tartini's Violin Sonata purred beneath her fingers in G minor. It fitted for how she felt. If a devil existed, it would surely mock her at this moment. The landlord had found her mother in a pile of her own excrement and called the authorities shortly after informing Linda. She had heard the words from Linda's mouth and, deaf to her instructions to wait in her apartment, she grabbed her belongings and left.

London was a large city, and she had often strayed from the beaten path. Hiding from childcare services was new, but they were predictably reluctant to waste resources on finding a single runaway. Her usual haunts were known only to her, and this was one of the few rare times she had brought the recognisable violin out of its case. Even the library she did not dare enter so soon. A last pain-filled trill sounded through the air as the piece ended.

"Merci beaucoup," she bowed in thanks and placed her violin gently back in its case.

"Tu joues très bien." The words were almost lost amongst the dispersing crowd. You play well. The girl's face flickered with a ghost of appreciation at the compliment, but the remnants of the score's emotion refused to let her go so soon.

The days passed quickly and quietly for the eight-year-old. She constantly moved, breaking into abandoned and not so abandoned buildings when the need arose. Life without a guardian was harsh for a minor. Aquarius was quickly developing a talent for devouring doors and locks. The girl made sure she was off the streets by nightfall and on again by daybreak. She was determined to make the most of the daylight hours as Winter neared. She was fortunate enough not to have any encounters with authorities.

Alana sped up her pace as the sun set on the city. She had not expected it to fall so soon and the streets were far riskier at night. She ducked into a side alley with little hesitation, knowing from experience that it was empty at this time.

She was wrong.

Barely two steps in she felt the telltale prickle on the back of her neck. She was being watched. Her steps sped up, and her grip tightened on her violin case as she rounded a bend and pressed her back against the wall. The feeling was gone, and she closed her eyes to breath a quiet sigh of relief. It was too close. She opened her eyelids to a vision of red.

Though, perhaps red was too shallow of a description for the pools of blood that surrounded the man's dilated pupils. Alana froze like a deer caught in headlights only she felt the driver of this vehicle would not hesitate to run her over. The man himself was tall and slender with black velvet strands caressing pale cheeks. He wore casual black clothes as if they were the garments of a king and not humble streetwear. His figure stood ramrod straight almost three metres away, but she could have sworn he was mere centimetres from her throat. She held her breath and hid her expression as the being examined her.

"You have not played this week," he spoke in soft syllables, seemingly upset. His accent was a thick french wine. She paused, unsure if he wanted an answer or if one that would satisfy the man even existed. Her silence didn't seem to bother him in the least as he pinned her with a steady gaze. His eyes, however, soon dipped to a rather interesting place. If it were her non-existent chest then perhaps Alana could have calmed her nerves, but the direction was unmistakable. Jugular veins appeared to be in vogue these days.

She shuffled to the side but tensed when his eyes followed the movement like a sniper's scope. Use your martial Arts, you say? What martial arts? The man was clearly not human. Several warning alarms were going off in Alana's head that screamed submit or risk bodily mutilation and death. She had not reacted so strongly to any presence before and was not inclined to find out the reasoning behind it. She wasn't prepared to die today. Slowly, she placed raised a hand in supplication.

"If you go for the jugular it will get awfully messy." The words were spoken with unexpected calmness and a sheepish face. He only cocked his head and forcefully dragged his eyes from her jugular to her own molten irises. She flicked her gaze to her wrist and offered it hesitantly. His eyes followed the limb.

"You would offer this of your own free will?" The eagerness in his voice was barely disguised, and she blinked in surprise at it. She doubted he would have asked had he initially intended to end her life.

"If it will not kill me," she decided swiftly and offered the limb again with more confidence than was probably healthy. The growl that ripped from his throat was animalistic, but she didn't flinch. Sharp incisors were on her wrist in mere seconds, and her blood siphoned off shortly after. She fell back on the concrete wall for support when the first wave of dizziness hit and started to pull away after the second. Vampire. She had had her suspicions but to have them confirmed… She growled in frustration before he finally loosened his jaw. There was only a flash of red eyes, and he was gone.

Alana pressed a hand to the wall while checking her arm. She found two small incision marks where teeth had entered her skin. Vampires. Of course, there just had to be bloody vampires. He didn't even say thank you. With a shake of her head, she shoved the encounter to the back of her mind and continued her journey back to her shelter for the night. Next thing you know she'd be seeing unicorns and dragons.

1984 November

The room was nice, tidy as well. Definitely worth the break-in. She leaned against the bed and patted Aquarius on the… slime? She didn't think slimes had a head or genitalia for that matter. Or did they? Was she technically groping it when she hugged it? Who knew? Her eyes eased shut for a few minutes before the prickling began again. It was the fifth night he'd crept into her territory. To do what exactly? Watch her sleep? Fat chance of that when his mere presence set her senses on edge. She could only ignore him for so long.

"If you want blood then ask. I don't appreciate being watched while I try to sleep," she spoke to the empty room for the first time since he had started the routine. She looked for all the world like a loon. She felt significantly better when Count Stalker materialised from the shadows. How'd he do that? Maybe she ought to make a teleporting creature. Hm… She gave him an appraising look from her seat on the bed as he restricted himself to the other side of the room. Why had she thought him being visible would make her feel better?

He wasn't moving an inch, so she resigned herself to crossing the distance herself. She inched her way to him with cautious steps. She'd adjusted slowly to his heavy gaze these past nights. Her wrist was in front of him already, and he grasped it so gently you would think she had been offering him gold. She tilted her head to watch his strange behaviour. Granted, she didn't think many people willingly gave their blood to vampires, but blood banks were a thing you know?! The second time he fed was easier than the first with significantly less lightheadedness. The third and fourth time in the coming month would show steady improvement as well.

…

Ding!

Notification: Level up!

Library System: Capricorn III is now level 11 and capable of stronger mind defence, quicker complex thought and processing of 6,100 words per hour.

Ding!

Notification: Level up!

Library System: Aquarius II is now level 19 and capable of storing up to 7 objects. Summoning cost decreased.

Alana flipped to the next page of the rather dull home economics book she'd plucked of someone's shelf. Vincent de Azrael. That was the name of the incredibly old vampire who had taken to her. She was rather concerned about how quickly her body had adjusted to the routine feedings if she was honest. Human blood donations were nowhere near as frequent or as large, yet a nights rest was all she needed, and she was ready to go. She quietly glanced at the vampire across the room before returning to her text with furrowed eyebrows. That was the other thing: he had taken to keeping watch over her at night. Even more concerning was the fact that she felt this to be perfectly natural. In what universe did relaxing in the presence of a natural predator become natural?

"What troubles you, mon ami?" Vincent asked softly, clearly sensing her uneasiness. She startled at the unexpected endearment.

"You. Is it not unusual that you spend so much time around me?" She answered with no preamble. Her speech pattern had also changed with Vincent as her only company.

"It is not." The reply was curt and unlike him. "Your blood is valuable to me. Naturally, I would protect the source."

A half-lie. She gave him a knowing look. He was avoiding many explanations with minimal words.

"Is it because I have a magic core?" Alana asked as she flipped the page and entirely missed his eyes snapping to her in an instant.

"You know this and still give me blood?" His tone was incredulous and suspicious. She met his eyes with intense curiosity.

"Is there a reason not to? There aren't any weird blood rituals going on, are there?"

"No… It is only unusual. The wizarding world of Britain has long since abandoned their relations with my kind. Blood sharing is frowned upon by most."

"I know very little about the wizarding world, Azrael. Neither of my parents had any magic that I know of."

"I believe the term they use for one in such circumstances as yourself is muggle-born."

'Muggle-born… As in Harry Potter…' Eyes wide Alana clasped her hands tightly to restrain herself. She couldn't react in front of Azrael. But the man was already beside her peering curiously at the child's expression. It was the closest he had dared come of his own volition she realised.

"This word means something to you?" He inquired gently, not quite daring enough to initiate physical contact.

Alana closed her eyes to take a deep breath before she replied, "Some things are better off forgotten. That word is one of them." She smiled shakily. The vampire gave her an evaluating look before nodding at her resolve.

"As you wish, mon ami."

1984 December

It took a week to come to terms with her new reality. It took another to reign in the desire to scream profanities at the heavens and whatever messed up deity ('Death I know it was you') decided to drop her in this particular godforsaken universe. Her memories of Alexis only fueled her ire. She had hated the Harry Potter series intimately. In fact, the only reason she had read the novels in the first place, after being explained the plot, was because she refused to believe such a series was so popular. She also refused to let the first object of her newly found levels of hatred be hated ignorantly. It wasn't the world that twisted her gut - well actually she thought the world-building left a lot to be desired - it was mostly the book's black and white categorisation of characters. You were either dark or light, good or evil, sane or insane. It was as though the author had given up on writing half of the characters. They lacked depth.

Voldemort was insane because he threw his soul through the shredder, but he somehow managed to make servants of debatable loyalty out of an aristocracy that had ruled for years. Dumbledore was good, but he supported a utilitarian government *cough* dictatorship *cough* and allowed the abuse of multiple students under his purview. Harry Potter was… just disappointing really. He had so many resources at his fingertips but lacked the initiative, knowledge, and ambition to use them. His goals were simplistic and ultimately, forced on him by others.

Alexis had baulked at the books and handled the decent fanfictions appreciatively. That being said, just because someone hates something does not necessarily mean they want to change it. If Alana could find a large enough rock in this world, she would crawl under it with pleasure. Vampires, dragons, unicorns, ogres, death munchers, and the order of fried chicken. Her triskelion blazed with memories that refused to be forgotten. She was well and truly fucked!

Azrael had taken the younger female's recent mood swings with infinite grace. Her face went through several emotions a day, ranging from happiness to disgust and then furious loathing. It was a bit of unusualness the ancient being could have gone without, but he considered the blood and violin playing well worth it.

He had left France decades ago to take residence in Britain. The move was one many had considered foolish as Britain welcomed no covens amongst its people unlike the rest of Europe. The silence, however, was what Vincent de Azrael had craved. One of his few regrets, however, had been the loss of magical musicians. France had been abundant with them, yet Britain had halted the practice of teaching their young with the passing of the founders of Hogwarts. It was a small relief to find a player no matter how young. Although, to find a witch willing to part with their blood was worth even more attention.

The small girl was barely 8 years of age and had offered her wrist to a non-human. The action was not without consequences as he had already explained to her. With her blood being regularly taken, her magic core would be forced to adapt her body, thus strengthening it somewhat. Then there was the attachment forming between them. Blood was a powerful force, even more so for magical beings, so it was little surprise that he had developed a need to be near her and her, a level of instinctive trust. A new vampire-wizard bond had not been formed in Europe since the last bout of coven wars and to find such a young magical being willing and capable of forming such an attachment was indeed a first for the dark creature.

"Would you care to take up residence with me in London?" The question tumbled from his lips against his own volition, and he started at the forwardness. She had already switched her focus away from her most recently acquired piece of literature. With her appetite for books, she would surely adore his collection, no matter its volume. She stared at him for several seconds expressionless, and he considered asking a second time. The suggestion was actually rather appealing now that he thought about it.

"I would like that." The answer was simple, and the corners of her lips lifted with a trace of happiness. His own eyes glittered with pleasure.