#adalon

He threw a glance acrossed the crowded rooms to check if his date, Jordan, had noticed his absence. Although Abe doubted it since Jordan was three drinks in by the time he had chosen to make his move. From the fumes wafting off the cup of jungle juice in his hand he doubted Jordan would be noticing anything for the rest of the night. Just the smell was making him nauseous and he left the highly caloric cup in an opening on a side table before squeezing his rail thin form between a couch and a couple making out against the wall.

Past the couch and sliding down the hallway between partygoes like a paper flower between the pages of a book he arrived at the end of a year long search. A seemingly dark oak door boasted a paper sign with the words "Do Not Enter" printed on it. Abe entered.

In the dark, unoccupied study, Abe began his search. His phone became a flashlight as he scoured the spines of shelved books.

There near the corner on the lowest shelf, where Abe had to drop to his knees to see clearly, was a maroon book bound in a strange material. The spine was blank, giving it the appearance of a journal. Pulling it out, the cover was blank too, except for a small red stamp in the bottom left corner. It appeared to be a small star with 8 points, the triangles that made up the points each having two small dots in them, and in the center was a swirl made of 3 lines. Abe had found his quarry.

His flashlight became a reading light as he poured over the contents of the journal whilst sitting on the floor. He flipped frantically through pages only half reading one before moving on to the next until he found the ritual he was looking for. He then rose from the ground and crossed the room to the desk.

On his way he saw a flash of light and jumped. He turned his flashlight only to see a small mirror on the wall of the study and within the mirror a reflection of himself. Skinny, not a healthy skinny but not as skinny as he would have liked. Black painted nails with the middle finger painted electric blue. Messy black hair. He knew if you looked closely enough a small line of black eyeliner could be seen under his eyes. Hazel eyes like his sister's. He scowled at the mirror then turned back to the journal, back to his ritual.

He lifted his shirt revealing a thin hidden travel bag underneath and began pulling things from it as he read the instructions from the ritual. Many of the components he had been able to ascertain from his previous findings but only now did he have the full ritual. He began mixing things in an empty ash tray on the desk, grinding them together with the butt of a small pocket knife he had brought with him. A reddish paste emerged and using the edge of his knife Abe began to draw with it upon the mirror.

Symbols to match those depicted in the book. Strange words that felt foreign to his tongue became easier to pronounce as the ritual progressed. What little light there was began to fade from the room. In deep shadow Abe scraped and muttered as the faint ruddy glow of the runes reflected from the lightless depths of his scorned canvas. Then silence.

The light of the runes blurred, twisting themselves into the void upon which they had been painted. Then they reached. They reached from the mirror to the reflected soul who stood before them. Abe reached back.

Tentacles of red mist coiled and tugged. Extending like an umbrella from their canvas they enveloped the seeker embracing him in ruby darkness.

Abe felt from deep within him his soul pulled into a hug that seemed to lull him to sleep. He blinked slowly, lazily. Once, then twice, then again. Then he saw.

Before him, amidst pools of ruby light, was a short but grande staircase that led to the base of a throne that stretched up into the darkness, and sat upon that throne was a pale figure dressed in reds and blues, and blacks, with their sweeping robes flowing to cover their feet and the ground before them, but open enough to reveal their chest though not their gender, and neither did the face framed in silken silver hair reveal itself to be male or female, kind or cruel, angry or compassionate, it simply gazed upon the mortal soul that had trespassed into its domain. It called to Abe.

"Who are you?"

The voice was soft as silk as it flowed around and filled the space like waves of water.

"I am Abe."

"What do you want, Abe?"

"I want to become a vampire."

The figure leaned forward, it's robes swaying as if legs were uncrossed but the skirt continued to shift and twitch as if it held a life of its own. Piercing eyes bore into Abe's as the deep, silken voice flowed through the space once more.

"Why come to me with such a request?"

Abe swallowed, feeling pressure unlike any he had faced in life before. He opened his mouth to recite a speech practiced 100 times, nay 1000 times, but paused. The consequences of all he had done, or rather all he had failed to do in his 26 years of life lay before him. The force of the entity's gaze squoze from his tattered soul the last few drops of honesty. Tears began to fall from his face.

"I want the pain to end. Every day I see my failures. I am hungry and do not feed. I stretch and stretch myself to fit another's frame. I paint myself to hide my scars. Every time I look in the mirror I see my sister in my eyes. Recently they've started to look like her's right before her final breath."

Abe wiped away the tears and met the steely gaze.

"I don't want to die. I don't want to see my scars. I don't want to see her in the mirror, or in my dreams. I want to be a vampire, because vampires don't have reflections. Vampires can't see their scars or flaws, so they can't see the pain behind them. They can forget and move on. Vampires are free from finding beauty in one's self."

The being nodded, and rose. It glided down the stairs it's skirt slithering like tentacles bound together by flowing fabric. The soft voice flowed as It approached Abe.

"Then from your reflection I will set you free. May your time with immortality allow your scars to fade, and your bleeding heart to heal. Although I warn the memories and their lessons never will. I shall give unto you what you seek and with it the gift of a name by which I shall call you by."

A gentle hand caressed Abe's face and found a grip within his hair, the otherworldly being's thumb pressed just before his ear. Then it tugged.

Abe winced expecting piercing teeth and flowing blood but was met with a hug. Gentle but strong arms and a cold chest with no heartbeat. An odd material wrapping itself around him, and clouds of inky darkness enveloping him. Then he felt the bite.

Pain pierced his heart for a moment but he felt no tearing of flesh, as if he had instead been struck in his soul. He gasped and pulled away from his entanglement. Stepping back and opening his eyes, he saw his reflection in the moonlit study mirror.

The pain began to fade as quickly as it came and he yanked at his shirt to reveal his chest in the mirror. Upon his chest, above his heart, was a blood red mark. A symbol, as if an eight pointed star, with each triangle of the star having two dots within it and the center being a swirl made of three lines. He raised a hand to touch the mark, but although he felt his hand make contact with his chest, he could not see the action reflected in that hated looking glass. His eyes widened, or at least he felt them widen, as his reflection revealed nothing to him anymore. The glassy mirror showing only an empty moonlit study.

Abe patted himself down, his body still the same it seemed but now reflectionless. His ritual complete he tucked his knife and journal within his hidden bag. Then slipped like a paper flower back into the crowd, a hitherto unseen, honest smile upon his face.

As the door closed behind him a silken voice flowed through the crack and found his ears, and he heard his name.