Chapter 1: Mama's Boy

The dream always begins the same; the smell of freshly cooked potatoes and carrots flooded his senses while; the warm rays of sun beamed across his mother’s red dress as she worked in the kitchen. Her beautiful brown hair flowed down her back in elegant ringlets, and her emerald green eyes complimented her rosy cheeks. James Granton, a young boy no older than six, waited for his late lunch. His messy brown hair covered his similar green eyes as he wiggled excitedly in his seat. Strings of spices lined the wooden walls and ceiling, where sigils meant for protection are etched into its surface. Both of them exist within the comfortable confines of their home.

“How much longer, mother?” he asks impatiently from his seat.

His mother smiled to herself and shook her head. “Now James, we talked about this. Patience is…?” she began while looking over her shoulder, lifting her hand softly to prompt James to finish her sentence.

James let out a small sigh. “Patience is an important virtue; what we want will always come to us if we practice and wait,” he said with hopeful eyes.

She smiled at him approvingly and nodded. “Very good, James.” She then served a bowl of fresh potato and carrot soup in a simple ceramic bowl and brought it over to James. “Here you are, my boy. Eat up,”

James smiled excitedly and grabbed his fork. “Thank you, mother,” he said before finally digging in. The familiar taste of his mother’s hand-grown vegetables and spices flooded his mouth, and he couldn’t help the excited wiggle and smile that spread across his face.

His mother grinned again as she served herself a bowl as well before sitting at the small table next to him. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. The clouds outside became thick and gray as James and his mother shared concerned looks.

“I’ll be right there,” his mother said as she stood. But she would never make it to the door.

The shouting and barking of dogs cut through their quiet afternoon. Large red and orange flames spread across the windows and blocked all of their exits. Smoke began to fill the room, and bright flashes of red and orange blasted in through the windows at the two of them as they cowered under the table. Tears streamed down James’ face as he looked at his mother.

“M-Mama- I’m scared- we’re going to die,” he said as he leaned into her embrace. He gripped the skirt of her dress as he coughed from the black smoke filling his lungs, his rib cage aching with each breath.

“You’re going to be okay, James, I promise.” His mother held him close, taking off a necklace from around her neck before bestowing it around him. It was a beautiful blue bead, painted into the form of an eye, with a piece of rose quartz embedded into the center of the bead.

“Take this for me, I was going to give it to you on your birthday, but I guess I have no choice now.” She then began to cough, the smoke finally flooding her senses and mouth.

James’ eyes widened as he watched his mother start to choke. “Your necklace? But mother, I- I don’t understand- M-Mama, you’re choking!”

James tried to pull his mother down lower, but he soon felt himself become increasingly warmer. Like a comfortable familiar hug, a strange light emanated from his body. The smoke no longer reached his lungs and he gasped to take a deep clear breath. But before he could do anything else, James’ mother carefully held her son’s face and pulled it close, kissing his forehead.

“Keep it safe, James.. And it will keep you safe…”

The roof began to cave, and at the last moment, she pushed her son out of the way. He watched as his mother was crushed beneath the weight of the roof. James cried out in anguish, the rubble around him flying away. That’s when he felt hands around him, pulling him free of the rubble…

**

James was suddenly jostled awake, the newspaper in his hand almost falling out of his hand as he quickly re-engaged his grip, looking down to read the front of it, Lloyd’s Evening Post, November 9th, 1780. The car he is in came to an abrupt halt outside of a large, imposing building. His driver called out to a group of rambunctious children, yelling at them to stay out of the road or something similar, but he wasn’t really paying attention. James looked up from the paper and out of the window at the dark oak front doors to the bureau, and he gritted his teeth.

“Here already…” he said under his breath.

The door was then opened for him, and he exited, leaving the newspaper behind. Carrying his briefcase with him up the stairs. He closed his deep gray coat around himself to keep the warmth in and the cool London air out before continuing.

Walking into the Vampire Investigation Bureau was like walking into a museum of death and horror. The newly installed lights illuminated the building as the echo of James’ black boots made contact with the floor, and the sound flooded his ears in that terribly familiar way. Hallway after hallway of tokens and treasures taken from the supernatural world filled the walls with the names of hunters inscribed on plaques on each pedestal and portrait. He turned right down a hall to see countless people gawking at trophies and treasures won from previous supernatural beings; a tooth from a werewolf, the candelabra thrown by a ghost, a stake that drove through the chest of a vampire. James remembered receiving all of these, all of the trophies from his first kills. As he walked past, whispers filled the air.

“It’s him-”

“Look, It’s James Granton.”

“He looks so tired..”

“He’s rather handsome-”

“I heard his mother was a witch.”

James merely tensed and continued his pursuit. Those people could think whatever they wanedt. He was there on business, not to entertain a bunch of nosey humans or to answer all of their pestering questions. He walked up a small flight of stairs, his shoulder brushing with someone as they passed, but he couldn’t care less about it, only taking note of the man’s black hair before he came across a door. The name outside of it read Stanley Shepperd, and his heart rate picked up.

“G*d d*mn this…” James thought as he took a shaky breath. “Just take it one step at a time…Take it with patience…”

His mother’s words rang out through his ears once again, and it gave him the strength to push the panic back down. And without knocking or any more warning, he walked right into the man's office.