Prologue - Interview Between Two Vampires (1)Mature

You cannot return to the light once you have delved into the darkness.
Learn the story of Daniel Giroux, a young vampire slowly working his way through the nights who is approached with an irrefusable - and extremely dangerous - bargain, one that will change his "immortal" life... forever.


Toronto. The most diverse and cosmopolitan city of Canada. Its landmarks gaze solemnly at the bright full moon; the silver satellite slowly awakens Toronto’s nocturnal denizens: yes, the bloodsucking, undead creatures best known as “vampires” arise from their havens - their “coffins,” as the mortals would fable.

At the heart of the city, one of these creatures rings the bell of 383 Sherbourne Street. The door opens. The shadowy vampire enters quickly and ascends the stairs to the first floor. Once there, he notices a dim light coming from a slightly open door. With a smile on his face, the vampire walks silently up to the door. He is about to knock when a voice on the other side stops him. 

“Hold it, Kindred. Who are you?”

“It’s me, Monsieur Giroux.,” said the vampire. “Peter Simmons.”

There was silence for a moment. “You are Mr. Simmons?”

“Yes, I am, Monsieur. May I come in?”

“Yes, you may… but no sudden moves.”


“Or your head will look like Swiss cheese in the glimpse of an eye.”

The mysterious vampire chuckled as he walked into a tiny studio with beige walls and carpet floor. Its furniture consisted of two mahogany bookshelves standing on either side of a cheap white desk; before the desk was a comfy white armchair, while behind the desk was a black ergonomic chair. A wide window behind the ergonomic chair revealed outside’s nightlife to the minuscule room; a large mirror opposite to the window reflected it.

“Welcome to my humble office, Mr. Simmons.” Seated on the ergonomic chair, a young and unusually pale man gestured at the vampire to sit down on the white armchair. The young man was dressed neatly, as if he planned to go to the nightclub afterwards: the crimson buttoned shirt, the black tight jeans, and the black canvas sneakers made him look like some sort of popular artist. Perhaps his most striking feature, however - besides his apparently frail frame - was his straight, dark brown hair: its highlights formed a gaudy gradient that started with golden streaks and ended in crimson red.

The End

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