Thirty souls did congregate within that empty palace on the outskirts of New York, well, perhaps I should correct myself, twenty-nine souls for I was one among them and the undead have no souls. Ten men as angelic as Lucifer before the fall stood around conversing near the banquet table filled with fresh meats and very poor Cabernet Sauvignon. Blood red wine was quite appropriate for these so-called vampires convening together for a night of orgy and bloodletting. I could not help but be touched that they, like myself, appreciated the fruit of the vein. The other nineteen stood there as well, absolute Venuses and buxom goddesses that neither time nor weather had appeared to touch. I always enjoyed these sort of celebrations, they always humored me with their stories of how they “fell” and of course there were those with their ceramic tooth implants and red contacts. Those that were too cheap had plastic teeth, but it was no matter for in a few hours they would all be mixing pain and pleasure in a truly artistic way.
The young lady that approached me went by the name of Nightraven. Her tan Spanish complexion was further complemented by the black silk she wore flowing about her otherwise naked form. She wore her hair down and her black locks extended down from her head to her backside. She stopped to ask for a drink and I couldn’t help but notice the bulbous vein throbbing in her vibrant neck. Her chest might as well have been exposed for the world, but as we spoke she loosened the robe little by little. Riding her dress up further and further to expose her inner thighs she allowed more than a glimpse as she guided my hand to massage her now moist womanhood. As I gently drove my fingers first around and then inside her exposed orifice, we embraced passionately. I stared deep into her eyes and found blue instead of red. A single tear fell from my flame colored eye as I continued with more and more vigor to bring her to climax again and again and again. I kissed her and slowly worked my way towards her neck. Noticing my movement she offered it freely to me.
Piercing her flesh I drunk in deeply the life-force that had sustained me for more than 500 years. No, I would not kill this one! I set her down on one of the sofas near by and allowed her to sleep peacefully. The blood continued to trickle from her neck but the people, engrossed in their own fantasy, paid her no attention. At last one man raised his glass and staring about the room pointed at me to tell my story of “the fall” that brought me into darkness and shadow. I arose from the sofa, grinned a rather pointed, bloody grin and decided to tell something they had never heard before at their vampire gatherings: a non-fiction.
“When I was but a boy, being orphaned and alone, I was taken under the wing of a local mosque in Spain and taught the true faith. More important than that, however, I was taught to fight and bleed for Allah. It was at the age of fifteen that I wielded the crescent blade for the first time but at twenty-six I was called upon to use it in battle. The Muslim Empire in Europe was collapsing around us, falling at the hands of the Crusaders. I did not know or care for their Christ but I knew of the sacking of Constantinople and feared these savages that would conquer their own peoples.
