Luther couldn't contain the impulse to strike; to feed. He needed substance. 

There was a problem;  the night was soon turning into morning.  Luther could see the beginnings of a sunrise peeking out over the horizon.  He had about forty minutes, maybe less, to get back.  He cursed for having wasted so much time trying to pry information from that useless vampire.  And still, he was no closer to finding the Stones of Arachai. 

He had been searching for them most of his vampire life - about twenty five years.  He had heard about them only a couple of years after his re-birth when he came across a couple of his own kind, speaking in hushed tones in the dead of night, and listened in on their conversation.  They spoke of great power associated with the Stones, ecspecially in the hands of a higher being, such as themselves.  The flithy humans just believed it to be folklore, but Luther knew better.  He had made a promise to himself to find them.  Then he would find his Creator and get revenge.

A few months back, mention of the Stones had resurfaced after years of dormancy.  Luther searched out every minute detail he could; who was talking about them, what they were saying and why.  He thougt he had been on to something with the last lead, but it was a dead end, as always.

Luther made it back to his humble little shack of a house and settled down into his box in the basement to sleep out the day.  He would be weak when he woke; he would have to feed first thing.

* * *

Luther awoke from his unconcious slumber.  Shoving the lid to the box aside, he readied himself to climb out in his weakened state.  With an abrupt movement, however, he was across the room in a fighting stance. 

"Now, now.  No need to be frightened my dear Alexander."  There was someone else in the room, sitting quietly with his legs crossed, waiting.  He was one of Luther's own kind.

"What do you want?" Luther asked, baring his teeth.

"I just want to talk, of course."  Luther peered at him suspiciously. "I can see you are weak," It spoke again. "Let me help." He motioned to a lump on the floor behind him.

Luther had been too caught up with the intruder to notice it.  On the floor was a girl, no more than twenty years old, rolling in and out of conciousness.  She had a bite on her neck.

"I only drank a little.  I've saved the rest for you."  The Vampire smiled at him. "Go ahead." He encouraged.

Luther was hesitant but his hunger could not hold him back any longer. He pounced on the girl and began feeding on the succulent flow of warm blood.  She didn't scream. Luther was relieved; he hated it when they screamed.  The girl emitted only a low guttural moan. 

When he was finished, he rolled himself off her body, avoiding having to look at it.

"Now, back to business."  The vampire stated.  Luther could see he was older, more experienced than himself. "My name is Jack Mare.  You may have heard of me referred to as the Consort of Wallachia."

Luther remained silent, waiting for Mare to get to the point of his being there.  Mare stared back at Luther, waiting for a reaction.  When he realized he wasn't getting one, he went on.

"How old are you?  Since your rebirth, I mean."

Luther couldn't find anything particularly odd about the question, so he answered. "Twenty seven."

Mare smirked inwardly.  Just a baby, he thought.  "Well, no matter." He waved the thought away with his hand.  "I need your assistance."

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