2 The darkest of nights follow

THE SUN WAS ON THE VERGE OF RISING, morning making its way to bring light and rid of the darkness that surrounds Grayson.

He had made it through the night, another night of simple freedom. No one there to command him, to force his hands into doing evil deeds.

But no matter the small taste of freedom, he wasn't free because even he knew that he was bound to have a little run ups with Marcel's people , they would do anything for their Master. 'Soul sucker' he never hated anything more than them, especially him the devil himself, a wicked and corrupted man who only thought about himself and nobody else, a person who had stolen his life and made him into something monstrous, something that is not supposed to exited in this world. A freak of nature that's what he was. A freak.

Marcel had said it was something glorious, but it didn't all that glorious, but then again what does Grayson know, he was just a pawn in Marcel's bigger plan.

New Orleans that was his next destination was, a city with dreamy dreams and harsh realities, a place filled with vampires, shapeshifters, werewolves, witches... 'Welcome to New Orleans' the sign said, catching his attention as he drives over the recommended speed limit. The engine roared as he applied pressure on the pedal, the air around him felt thick as he breathed in, sucking the whats left of oxygen.

Grayson had "borrowed" the old rusty truck from a person, he shall return it after his done with it. If he is done with it.

Maybe this time he will have some luck, he had tried to find a witch that could help him with the answers to his questions but every time he came close to finding a witch he would find them brutally murdered, ripped to shreds.

He knew Marcel was behind this, he had to be who else would just kill witches randomly. That was a crime, it was treason. Maybe it could of been a sociopath... He didn't believe that was true though, but maybe it could of been- who knew.

Every time he came a step closer to finding something, he would take two steps backwards and end up with nothing right were he first began, his luck sucked at this point, left without any answers and a list of question to be answered. All he wanted is to find out where he'd come from, who he was. It's sad to know he didn't even know where he'd come from or who his parents were.

The lights were so illuminating and bright as he drives through the sleepless city, the jazz meets the morning air and the birdsong like old acquaintances. They know how to play nice, how to bring harmony to the city.

The notes rise in the dampness, the soft breeze, and are somehow different than they would be in the heat of the day will follow. His mind slipping into a familiar trance as his mind starts to calm and relax, tiredness consumed him, he had been driving non-stop all night long... he had to find a motel. He needed rest.

Grayson casted his tired eyes around the room, places like these he called them home, it was the closes thing he had to an official home, he never knew of his birth parents, heck I don't think that they even cared that he was alive, they left him- he was alone in the world.

There on the far corner on the right laid a bed, a decent queen sized bed... Every minute or so he would scrunch up his nose couldn't bare the stench of the different mixture of smells that filled his room, making it hard for him to breath, it was thick and heavy to inhale, but he knew motels were one of those seedy places men with beer guts went to and bang other men's wives, with promises they couldn't afford to keep. Or else the hooker's brought their John's there and paid for rooms by the hour.

His body flopped with a thump, the hard mattress came in contact with his bare arms as he raised his musclier arms over his head, as his eyes began to slowly fluttered shut, unbothered by the fact that he didn't take his shoes off he was just to tired to do anything- just wanted to rest and not think about anything to do with Marc-

HIS HEART RATE RAISED, it pounded against his chest so aggressively, so fast, his blood boiled in his veins. A burning sensation burned his throat, breathing suddenly became harder, "You really thought you had a chance-" rage and furiousness was visible in his tone, he held Grayson by the throat, tightening his grip as anger consumed him.

A thunderous laugh made its way out, his wicked smile broad, echoed within his feature, " Are you really that stupid!," another laugh escaped.

Grayson felt mocked, but he knew better than to speak.

"Did you really think that you can stop me!" His violence did not only lay within his action, but in his words.

Marcel knew everything about him, every perceived flaw, every vulnerability and he knew where to put the pressure. Like twisting a finger in a bullet hole he reminded Grayson of his pains, his worst memory.

Grayson could feel his blood boiling hot in his veins as he thought over what just had happened, Grayson had made a stupid mistake, he didn't indent this to happen, "I am centuries old! I can not be stopped!" His pupils turned a shade darker, almost completely black.

The stare he received intensified, his emotions were on full display. Something so odd to see from Marcel, he was always so devoid of emotions, dead even. Ironic since he was dead, and yet so alive.

Black dotes began to take over Grayson's vision, darkness slowly turned the corner, it began to slowly near him, calling his name, it felt too inviting to resist. Made its way closer with each second that pasted.

"Marcel. Stop-" his voice was rough, scratchy even as he forced his words through each breath, he so desperately tried to inhale.

Struggle, was visible in Grayson's eyes as battled to stay conscious, to stay alive.

"Please." Begging was something he mostly despise, but he knew if he didn't he would not live to see another day.

Grayson always felt hated, he felt it, Marcel's hatred for him seemed to blind his vindication of why he needed the Grayson, with that thought he started to gain some sense, dropping his hand away from his throat as he took a few steps away. If he'd stayed any closer to Grayson he sure would have slapped his tinny neck, without a second thought.

The cold oxygen felt good, as he inhaled it with fast intake of breath as he fell to his knees, relief flooded him within,"You got off easy this time but-" Grayson could feel the tension and hear the intensity in his tone, "if you ever try to even attempt in killing me, I will without any hesitation ripe your heart-

His eyes shot wide open as he jolted upwards. He knew he was scared when those old fears run through his head, when he heard the taunting laughter of years past, when he was tormented. He wasn't going to deny that he wasn't still scared when those bad memories cut loose their chains and invade his confidence, eroding the person he has built since those dark days.

The fear came mostly when he was tired and flees in the nighttime, vanquished by the time he awaked. So when his thoughts tumble into that abyss and the rope ladders burn, he stayed there, lying down as those fears faded.

He was only thirteen at the time when he had enough, hating the torment he had received from that man... He was a fool for thinking he would kill him so easily and run as faraway as he could get. He was no longer sane.

That night he felt that warn, that was given to him. That night had kill the hope within him, the hope of ever escaping. That night he'd changed.

In that moment, that flash of anger that seems to reside within him, gave him protection from the pain. If he were to relive it, he would try to summon more strength. He'd failed himself far too many times, and there came a point to where the line was crossed.

The voice inside his head craved destruction and blood. It only wanted to see blood. It was furious, it hated being helpless and weak, it craved power to the point where he struggled to control his own actions at times. No longer he was that innocent kid- no longer weak and defenceless.

He hated himself for who he was, but then again this is about survival and in surviving he had to do the things that lacked the benefit.

Rubbing the sleep of his eyes, stress was quickly eating him alive. There wasn't a single second of the day were he would not be trying to puzzle things together, things that never made sense in the first place. What did Marcel want from him? Why did he keep him locked up all this bloody years? Only to keep him under his control, but then again it didn't surprise him, he knew he was one of his pawn in one of his sick games that he liked to play, he took joy from other peoples pain. That much Grayson knew.

Grayson likes to think he knew him, but even he knew that there was more to Marcel's, the secrets that surrounded Marcel had Grayson intrigued, he wanted to know his motives, there has to be a motive to all this?

He had spent enough time with that man to know he wasn't someone one to mess with but if anyone ever did, Marcel wasn't one to play around. He stayed two steps ahead of his enemies, he craved to be on top of everything. He was Power hungry.

He sighed a sad sigh. His lack of sleep, made his limps tired as he dragging his legs taking long steps towards his duffel bag that laid on the floor untouched.

He pulled at its zipper, opening it with speed, revealing the many knives and loaded guns, ready to be used.

He mostly loved his knifes as they satisfied him the most when he finished his kills, he would rarely used guns he preferred knives or anything with a sharp, pointed edge.

The knife was silver dual blade with a black handle.Everything about it was precise. It was the kind of knife yuppies carry when they want to look tough on their one hour hike in the park.

He turned it over in his hands, feeling the weight of it. His face lifted from a frown to neutral - the greater smile he'd worn since Jay was alive, his greatest friend had fallen after Marcel had gotten his hands on him, it had be six months since his death. It was time for this tool to lived up to its promise.

He knew what he had to do next.