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the
slaughter.
    "Oh–I'm a little hurt by
that." Brenna's voice was child-like, small and soft.
    "Get away from me!" Stone
shook his head, trying in desperation to free his mouth from the
blood that dripped from Brenna's wrist. He hoped he had not taken
enough to change him, as the strange tingling he felt earlier had
subsided.
    Brenna pulled away. She
cradled her wounded arm against her chest and played with a pendant
that rested above her breasts. She looked at him with such
disgust.
    "Why don't you want to be
my child?" she snapped at Stone.
    "Because you’re horrible
and vindictive, why would anyone want to be like you?” his words
cut like a knife. Stone held her cold gaze. But she wasn't going to
let him win this battle. Brenna turned and stormed out of the
room.
    The door slammed behind
her, and the lock turned before the sound of her footsteps faded
away. Stone's body relaxed and his breathing calmed. While still
lying on the dwarf-sized bed, his ankles bound by long chains
bolted to the cement walls, Stone tried to sit up. He reached up to
feel the new wounds that now accompanied the old bite marks on his
neck and the insides of his thighs and wrists.
    As the sun rose he made his
way to the small window just above the bed to watch its ascent.
With each passing night and with each of Brenna’s visits, it seemed
the sun became harder to look at, stinging his eyes. He feared that
he was turning into a vampire. And even more horrifying to him was
the idea that he was turning into a half-breed, able to walk in the
sun, but with a thirst for human blood. The very idea of it
frightened him so much that his body began to tremble as he wept.
He curled up into a ball. He had no fight left.
     
     
     
     

Chapter 3
    (Eme – November 14 -
December 11, 1999)
     
    Without a thought Eme wiped
away the tiny beads of crimson sweat that trickled down her face.
She had retreated to the jungles of Brazil. It had been at least a
thousand years since she had traveled to the mystic and beautiful
jungles. Long ago Eme found this place by accident through her
travels of South America. Now she went there with purpose, in
search of a tribe she prayed still existed. Eme also hoped that
their magick had been passed down over the centuries. In her weary
mind their keen ability was key to helping to protect her family
from what she feared was the Blood God calling upon her; this time
in spirit form. Even though Eme felt she was losing her mind, she
had to have faith in herself. Faith in her instincts and that her
will to survive was stronger than what the voice in her head was
driving into her.
    A hunger she could never
appease was coupled with the constant feeling of someone, or
something, trying to enter her thoughts and manipulate her soul. It
was trying to awaken the demon within her that she had fought to
tame one too many times. But she would not let it win. Over all,
that was why Eme had fled from Chantonnay without a
word.
    And so after a long flight
and a tedious trek through thick jungle, she couldn’t help but
smile as the torchlight of a village came into view. The kindly old
woman had been right, despite doubting her own memory–fifty
kilometers Northwest of Manacapuru and just fifteen kilometers
south from the Rio Negro, there was the village of the Touguraco
and Peruvcia tribes. They lived as they had for thousands of years.
Modern conveniences did not plague their village. They had their
own priests and priestesses, a medicine man and their own gods
functioned as judge and jury. In their minds, the living could
never punish them as harsh as their gods could. Any mortal crime
they may commit while on this earth, they would pay dearly for in
their afterlife.
    The tribes knew of the
modern world, as many missionaries had come and gone. They had
tried their best to bring Christ into their lives to ‘better’ them
and to make them less ‘savage’. But the tribes held strong to their
heritage and now on the verge of the year