Grayson heard another disturbing noise coming from the other side of the door he was leaned up against, but it didn't bother him much anymore. All afternoon, his friend Ethan had been trying to get out, but the door that was a steel and titanium alloy was too strong for him to break down.

Even his new superior Vamp form that spontaneously appeared after his seizures wasn't enough to get out.

A couple days ago, Grayson had went to Ezra for help. He had knocked on his door in the middle of the night with an unconscious Ethan hanging over his shoulder.

"What happened with him?" Ezra had asked, noticing there was something off. It wasn't just obvious in the way his fangs stayed visible so long after feeding, or how his skin looked pale, almost corpse-like. What set him apart the most, was the smell.

Ethan's blood had a foul scent that made both of them uneasy.

"I was hoping you'd have the answer to that," Grayson had said before he brought him inside and laid him on a table so Ezra could examine him. As he looked over the body, he noticed something else. Nails, sharp as knives were breaking through the skin on his fingertips. Blood dripped from the broken skin, but it wasn't a deep red like it was supposed to be.

The tips of his fingers were oozing black, like ink was draining from his body.

Edric looked uneasy while he examined the body. Something was very wrong, and neither of them had a clue on how to fix it.

"Do you have any idea what could have caused this?" Ezra had asked him while wrapping Ethan's arm around his shoulder. After lifting him off the table, he headed towards the back room.

Grayson followed while he explained, "A couple days ago Ethan had some kind of seizure. I didn't think about it much at first, but then last night he attacked that woman and he couldn't stop. I've never seen anything like it. It was almost like he was possessed or something. When he finally calmed down, I thought it was just a sudden blood lust, but then . . . he attacked me.

"A couple times when he came at me, I thought I was done for, but I was able to snap his neck before he could snap mine."

The placid look Ezra had confused him. He seemed too calm about the information he had just received. This made Grayson question his old friend, but everything usually worked out when he was involved.

"You sure this room will hold him?" Grayson asked. Ezra only shrugged in return.

"Let's hope so."

A shadow came over Grayson and the memory faded. The vulgar screams of his friend still echoed through the thick walls and the pounding against the door could still be felt as a small vibration on his back.

Ezra looked down at him thoughtfully. He was a lot older than most of their kind. The silver streaks in his originally blond hair and the wrinkles above his brows didn't diminish the power that he had. Even though he had more years on him before he turned, he was still a force to be reckoned with.

"You need to feed," he told Grayson after looking at the state of his body, worry filling his dark eyes. "You've barely moved in the past couple of days. A little bit of rest would also do you some good."

A heavy sigh left Grayson before he spoke, "How can I rest when I know Ethan is locked up in here? I'm the one who turned him. Anything that happens to him is my fault."

"All these years I've known you," Ezra chuckled heartedly, "you constantly blame yourself for every little thing that goes wrong to the people around you. Even when you have no control in the matter, you always thought something was your fault." He held out his hand to Grayson, who reluctantly took it and was lifted from the ground. "One of these days you just have to realize that you aren't in charge of everything that happens.

"Even Hell can slip through the cracks of Heaven."

Grayson found himself smiling at one of Ezra's dramatic quotes, he missed them more than he realized. This shattering truth guided Grayson from even the darkest times in his life. When knowing someone who has lived so long, it was ignorant to ignore such council.

"We can't just keep him hauled up in there," Grayson said, placing his palm against the door that refused to give way from Ethan's constant attacks. "The less blood he consumes, the weaker he gets."

"Right now," Ezra chose his next words carefully, "that might not be our worst option." Before Grayson can argue, he adds, "We won't starve him. Just keep him weak. I've never seen anything like this before in all my years, and you know as well as I do that I've had plenty. Plenty of time for me to see what has needed to be seen."

An apprehensive expression claimed Ezra before he turned away.

"But this is new to me entirely."

Silence robbed Grayson of his much needed sleep that night. Every time he turned uncomfortably on the couch he was reminded of the deafening silence that overtook the room.

He hadn't slept for days, but sleep evaded him. Stress clouded him with fear about what could happen next. Nothing could prepare him for what would have to be done if his friend didn't get any better.

Grayson sighed and pulled the blanket that was covering him away. Rubbing his eyes, he got up and walked toward the suspicious silence that came from the room where he and Ezra forced his friend into. Only an hour ago had the constant banging on the walls and door keep Grayson up, but after the silence came, that's what kept him from getting any rest.

The door -made from a steel alloy coated with platinum- was cold to the touch. Grayson rested his hand upon the door for a while before the banging started again. His friend was aware of his presence even though he didn't make a sound.

A shiver ran down Grayson's spine as he heard a hissing noise coming from the other side of the door.

That's definitely not normal, he thought to himself.

Quickly, as if the door burned him, he pulled his hand away. Sighing, he ran his hair hand through his hair as he breathed deeply. In and out. The attempt to calm himself down wasn't working.

Leaning against the door, he sank down to the ground, ignoring the cold as his bare back was exposed to it. That didn't bother him as much as the noises that continued on the other side of the barrier, or the thoughts that had been keeping him up all night. The idea that Ethan was not the only one experiencing this disease, or whatever this was, was unsettling.

It was unlikely that he was the only case, but Ezra had never seen something like this before, so it's possible that Ethan was one of the first cases. Ezra was one of the oldest of their kind that Grayson knew about, and him not knowing what this was put a whole new definition of the word uncertainty.

Grayson hadn't lived as long as most of his kind in the world, only being a couple decades over three hundred. Life had shown him many things in that time, but he never saw Vampires ever change their form in any way.

Something new was coming, and from the looks of it, nothing good.

Running always made Slade feel so free.The feeling of the wind against your face and the comfortable chill that comes with it makes everything seem so much more possible. Like taking on the world isn't the obstacle you actually think it is.

Slade knew better than to think that perfect piece of fiction was anything other than that: Fiction. There was no getting out of problems before facing them, only running from them. Like he'd been doing for years now.

That was the opposing feeling that also accompanied running was helplessness.

Whether it was from Edric, or his twin sister, or his past, all he ever did was run. He knew that he needed to stop and finally face everything that had been chasing so closely behind him, but fear ate him up inside.

Fear tore him apart from the inside out, and he felt like a coward for letting that fear be in control of his actions. For too long he had been a slave of his own worry, and the hesitation to do something about it was overpowering.

From Edric's warning earlier, it was obvious that Arella was hot on his trail. Slade knew Edric's game play, he would have told his sister exactly where to find him. His sister loved the hunt, because she claimed that was part of the fun. After the twins turned they found a new sort of competition against each other.

When their mom died, Edric was the only one that could take care of them and teach them the ropes. The rivalry didn't take long to develop and as Arella and Edric grew closer, Slade grew farther away, separating himself into a different world. While Arella took lots of pride in their newfound abilities, Slade found shame. The way they had to take blood from others to survive was not what he signed up for. In fact, him turning wasn't even by choice.

Arella pleaded for Edric to turn Slade too, even though he wanted him dead. That was the last time she ever stood up for her brother. Once the nature of their kind finally took over Arella's mind, she slowly started to stop seeing reason. All she cared about now was the hunt. Slade couldn't lie and say he didn't feel great when he tore into someone neck and took away their very source of life, but at least he felt conflicted about it.

Now, not so much, but at first empathy was his biggest enemy. An enemy he sometimes still dealt with, but he pushed it far back into his mind.

His mind that was now as cold and dark as his sister's heart.

Pulling the blanket over his head, Slade closed his eyes and pinched his tongue with his teeth, attempting to keep his mind on physical pain instead of mental. Physical pain could always be healed, but mental stays with you forever.

It had been a day since Edric paid him a visit. He had woken up in the same alley, his neck sore. No doubt Ric had killed him, but their kind didn't stay dead for long. For them, snapping a neck was just a way to knock someone out for a few hours, leaving them with a killer headache when they woke up.

The blanket wasn't doing a good job of shielding Slade from the outside world. All noises outside his window were intensifying with every moment that passed. Stress had been eating away at him for hours in the empty motel room, making even the most normal sounds -wind, or the hoots of an owl- chill him to the core.

He couldn't act this way. His sister shouldn't be the reason that he's freaking out. Yes, she was a force to be reckoned with, but he couldn't let the fear of her finding him run things.

With a huff of newfound energy, Slade got to his feet and started packing his bag. Arella would not have the upperhand this time around. This time, Slade would be the one to come out on top.

And the only way to do that, was kill her before she killed him.

Blood.

No matter how much he tried to push that thought in the back of his mind, he couldn't. Of course, he could control the constant hunger, because he is the hunger. He is the blood. He is everything that is to be feared.

With every passing moment, he was becoming stronger from the withdrawal of sanity from the others.

His army in waiting.