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him. Suddenly he realized he was completely alone. The mob had all run off, leaving the dead strewn about the property. The only sound was that of the roaring fire still engulfing the house.
    The Inquisitor hugged himself fiercely as he looked around nervously. He needed to return to the road that would take him to the docks where his ship was moored, a road that would take him directly past the place where he had left Alphonso’s body. Arriving at the location all he found was a small puddle of blood.
    Fear grabbed hold of the Inquisitor as he desperately began to survey the grounds for any sign of tracks indicating whether someone had taken the body away or…. Finding no telling sign of what might have happened, panic replaced fear and the Inquisitor broke into a run for the docks and his ship. He arrived with a face completely white from the fear and exertion, yet, he still managed to give the orders to launch for Spain immediately. When the Captain protested they hadn’t had time to take on enough provisions for the journey home, the Inquisitor insisted he leave behind however many members of the crew weren’t necessary for an immediate departure. Reluctantly, the Captain complied and the Spanish galleon set sail for Spain.
    Two days later the Spanish galleon passed less than one hundred yards from an isolated sandy beach near the cliffs of Dover. The blood drained bodies of the Inquisitor and the majority of the crew were all heaved over one side of the ship while a lone passenger dove into the water and swam toward the beach. The relieved crew immediately turned the ship for open sea and headed home.
    When the ship finally made it back to Spain the remaining crew members were immediately taken into custody. All spoke of a stowaway who slaughtered and feasted on the blood of officers and deck hands and had tortured the Inquisitor for nearly two full days before he let the man die. When asked for details about the stowaway, the terror in their words revealed superstition. Some spoke of a demon, others described a vampire, while several spoke of Lucifer himself. The one consistency among all of the descriptions was that the stowaway was very tall with long, snow white hair.

    Part II: Stasis

    Chapter 5
    Los Angeles. The Sunset Strip. 11:23 P.M.

    The night was cool, dry and pleasant. Another perfect evening in Southern California where a slow, steady breeze flowed in from the ocean; the same breeze that pushed the day’s automobile exhaust out of the area and into the San Fernando Valley. The sulfurous cloud would rise like a phantom, waft over the hills, and take one final bite at the Earth’s ozone layer before it disappeared into the upper atmosphere.
    The city was alive at this hour, with neon and otherwise illuminated lights pulsing like a nervous system. Expensive cars acted like red blood cells carrying their cargo of people through arterial freeways toward their various organic destinations. As in any living body system, the city too had a core or “heart”, the only difference being this city’s heart could be found at a different location every six months or so.
    The heart in this concrete and steel carcass would be whichever nightclub was “in” or the “place to be.” Lines of people and limousines would extend for city blocks waiting for the opportunity for passage into its hallowed chambers. For the past eight months this centralized hot zone was The Inferno . Entrance was controlled religiously, with celebrities and high rollers given instant access. Single women who were dressed to impress, which really meant “stripper formal with loose morals”, were scrutinized by the various bouncers, but also given immediate access. These were not absolute entrance requirements; rather they were the subjective perceptions of the four well-dressed and highly imposing men who blocked passageway into this modern-day cathedral.
    Unnoticed by most were two ferocious looking gentlemen, also serving as security