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Dorian looked around as they
moved out of the clearing and into the woods.

He
heard a low growling sound coming from directly behind them. His father didn’t even seem to notice, so intent was he on finding that doe. There was no sign of her.

“Father
,” Dorian whispered.

“What
is
it?” his father said impatiently, turning to face his son. His entire body froze; his mouth hung open when he saw the four wolves approaching them.

Maybe they wouldn’t attack
, thought Dorian. Wolves normally didn’t attack without reason. He saw their ribs and hips bones protruding. They were starving and that was reason enough for them to strike. Add the scent of blood from his father’s wound and they were as good as dead.

Dorian loaded an arrow into his bow and took aim at the one closest to them. Its fur was a sharp ridge along its back and it was poised to jump. The snout crinkled,
its eyes glittered like that of a demon and its mouth dripped with saliva. The other three strategically circled them.

Just as one leaped into the air
, Dorian let the arrow fly. It whizzed swiftly with a zinging sound and found its mark in the wolf’s throat. It went down with a soft thud on the snow-packed ground. Clawing at its neck and whimpering, it sounded helpless now.  Dorian had little time to watch the creature draw its last breath. He re-loaded his bow and turned his attention to the other three. They hung back a little, as if assessing the situation.

How long would they stay back until they attacked again?
Dorian thought.

“Father
, behind you!” Dorian shouted as the smallest of the three leaped onto his father’s back. Once the man was down the other two pounced as well.

Dorian looked on in horror as they tore at his father’s coat, pants
and head. He swung his arms every which way, trying to get them off. It was futile. They may’ve been weak with hunger, but then again, so were he and his father.

He
aimed his arrow at them, finding it difficult to get a clear shot. The wolves were biting, growling and clawing at his father. Bright red blood began to seep from underneath his body onto the white snow.

He
looked back toward the house for a moment, trying to judge the distance between where they stood and refuge. There was no way they both could make it back.

An image flash
ed into his mind of his mother lying upon her death bed without a husband at her side, and his sister, Naomi, they needed him!

An
unwanted and terrible thought came to him. He could very well make it while the wolves were busy eating his father. He looked back at the scene, heard his father’s high-pitched screams and lowered his weapon.

Suddenly, all was quiet
. The snow continued to fall, heavy and silent. He watched as his father lifted his head up. His eyes met Dorian’s. The look in them was something that would plague him for the rest of his days. The realization of what his son meant to do. Or more to the point, what he meant
not
to do.

“Dorian
,” he whispered, holding out a bloody hand to him. “Please . . . .” His eyes pleaded with him not to do this thing.

He knew his father wouldn’t live even if he brought him home. His wounds were too serious. 

“I’m sorry father.”  He turned and ran.

He saw the steam of his breath
as he lumbered through the snow. It had become cumbersome and hard to run through. There, in plain sight was his home. He was almost there. He heard no more screams. The wolves must’ve finished his father off.

Oh God
that meant
. . .

He turned, feeling as if he were moving in slow motion and there
stood one of the wolves, the fur around its mouth soaked with blood. It snarled and drooled.

Dorian fumbled with the bow and arrow and finally shot at the thing, but it was too late. The wolf pounced on him. He fell onto his back
and tried to shield his throat from its gnashing jaws, all the while trying to push it off.

He felt its teeth sink into his cheek and shouted for “help.” A f
oolish gesture in the midst of the barren woods and he knew it. He was going to die. He was quickly losing blood and consciousness when he felt a peculiar thing. The weight of the wolf was suddenly gone. He heard a whooshing sound and what sounded like a man’s voice. And that was all he remembered before the world went black.

When he regained consciousness, his eyes fluttered open and he saw the flames of a fire
burning in a hearth. He heard the crackle of kindling and the sound of the wind blowing fiercely outside. His head ached as he turned side to side to better view his surroundings. He was lying on a floor beside the warming fire. He saw a man’s boots, the tails of his coat and a glimmer of the side of his face as he knelt down and stoked the kindling. The fire roared.

“Where am I?” Dorian’s voice cracked with thirst and he felt a sticky warm
fluid on his neck. Every movement was agony. Then he remembered; he’d left his father to die out there in the woods.  He hadn’t even tried to help him. How could he have done such a thing?

“You could not have saved him.”
A voice came, low, calm and soothing.

“How d
id you know . . . ?”

“I hear your thoughts.”

“Where am I? Who
are
you?” He became fully alert and struggled to sit up. The room pitched around him as wave upon wave of dizziness caused him to lie back down. His head pounded and his limbs trembled.

The man knelt down next to him and
he finally got a good look at his savior. He was a young man, about the same age as he with shoulder length blonde hair and large dark brown eyes. His facial features were perfectly proportioned. He wore a black velvet jacket and at his wrists was a hint of an embroidered linen shirt beneath.

Dorian
couldn’t speak. He stared at this stunningly handsome man who was no doubt an aristocrat, judging by his manner of dress. These were not the kind of clothes one went hunting in. So, what was he doing in the stark, remote woods on such a miserable day?

“My name is Malachi
.”

Dorian was
startled by the softness of his voice. He attempted to get up and extend his hand to him. “Thank you for saving my life.” He felt dizzy and weak from the small exertion.

Malachi grasped his upper arm before he fell and gently released him back onto the plush pillow and bear rug
on the floor.

“You’ve lost a great deal of blood and still
it pours. In your present condition you won’t live long.”

Dorian was alarmed. “What is this place and why did you bring me here if I am beyond all hope?”

“This is one of my dwellings. I have many. And you are not beyond hope. There’s a way for you to live, my friend.” He knelt down and presented Dorian with a silver wine goblet. “Drink.”

His thirst
was unbearable. He took a large swallow and grimaced at the taste. “What is this?” It was warm, thick, sweet and had a coppery scent. Could it be what he thought it was?

“Yes, it’s exactly what you think it is.” Malachi’s eyes locked on
his. His stare was unnerving.

“You
. . . gave me
blood
to drink?” Dorian was mortified.

Malachi nodded.

“Why would you do that? Whose blood is it?”

“You
’d be dead now if I hadn’t. It’s my blood.  It will buy you a little time, but not much. I’m offering you a way to live. Shall I go on or allow you to die?”

Dorian thought of his mother
and sister. His mother’s death was coming soon and his sister was slowly starving to death. The guilt of what he’d done, leaving his father to be eaten alive by wolves weighed heavy on his conscience. He knew neither he nor his father would have lived if he’d tried to help him, still the knowledge did not quell his conscience.

He
couldn’t die and leave them alone. He had to take care of them. There was no-one else. And yet, he feared this man who promised him life in the face of death.

“What are you?” Dorian’s voice was but a raspy whisper.

“I’m a vampire.” Malachi’s face was no more than a few inches from his own.

“That’s
impossible
! There’s no such thing!” Dorian’s fright returned ten-fold.

“Ah, but there is
. And as fate would have it, I’m the only thing standing between you and death. Will you die or accept the new life I’m offering?”

Another wave of dizziness came over Dorian. He felt his body becoming weaker. Even in his poor physical condition, he struggled to clear his mind and weigh the options set before him.
A new life
,
yes I will take any kind of life over death
.
I must!

He didn’t need to speak the words. Malachi heard his thoughts.

“Very well, but you’ll have to do something you might find distasteful. You must drink directly from my throat. That is where the powerful blood which makes us what we are comes from.”

Dorian gasped. “I
can’t do that!” The notion of biting into the flesh of another human being was not just distasteful, it was sickening. Then again, if this creature was what he claimed to be, he wasn’t human.

“You can
Dorian. I chose you because you’re strong in mind and body. With your intellect and keen intuition you will thrive in this new life. You have no idea under Heaven what you’ll be capable of. Your family, they are of great importance to you, are they not? There will be nothing you can’t give them. You’re also unusually beautiful and as close to perfection as a human male can be. You’re absolutely exquisite!”

Malachi unbuttoned the collar of his shirt as he spoke, exposing his throat. A large vein pulsed on the right side of his neck. In th
e dark chamber, Dorian couldn’t see how pale Malachi was. When the creature put his hand behind his head, pulling him close and his lips brushed the skin of his neck, he felt how cold and hard his flesh was.

“Do it now Dorian! If you hesitate any longer, it will be too late.”

“What will I become? A monster who feeds on the blood of others to live? I cannot!”

“Things aren’t always what they seem.
I see you’re repulsed by the feel of my flesh. I’m cold because I’ve not yet fed. To the outside world you and I will pass as humans, as long as we feed. All will be explained to you once the deed is done. I will be by your side as your friend and teacher. I promise. Now
drink
!” Malachi pushed Dorian’s face against his throat and threw his head back.

T
entatively Dorian bit down lightly.

“You must bite down hard and keep your lips on the wound until the blood ceases to flow.”

Dorian closed his eyes and did as he was instructed. He would take this new life, whatever it was and embrace it. He didn’t know where his strength came from, but his mind was clear and focused as he bit into Malachi’s throat. He felt the skin break. The blood flowed from the wound much quicker than he’d thought possible. Within mere seconds his mouth was flooded with it. Surprisingly, the liquid was not cold. It was warm and somewhat pleasant. He swallowed as fast as he could to keep up with the steady stream. Finally it slowed down and stopped.

Dorian leaned away from Malachi. He felt
a measure of vigor come back to him. And the strength kept coming, wave after wave of it until he felt invincible. He was overwhelmed by it.

He was at once in awe of his power and the promise of immortality.
There must be a price to pay for this gift
, he thought.

He turned his attention back to Malachi who was speaking quietly to him.
“You’ve almost passed over. Although, it will take many years for you to gain the powers I possess. I will school you in all you need to know to live in this new life. Look at your mortal wounds from the wolves attack and you will understand what you’re becoming.”

Dorian tore
his shirt off quickly so he could examine his upper body. There was nothing there. No wounds or blood. Not even a blemish. His skin was perfect.

He gasped as a stabbing pain took hold of his stomach
. It was the most intense pain he’d ever felt in his life.

Malachi reached out to steady him
. “Your body is dying. You must rid it of all that you consumed as a human being. Come.”

He led him to a small room with nothing in it but a dresser table w
ith a small wash basin and cloth on top of it. A wooden box with a hole was fastened to the floor.

I
mmediately he emptied his body of all food and liquids. His stomach roared as he vomited the last of its contents.

Once this was accomplished, he felt better than he’d ever felt in his entire life. He was
so strong! He could literally feel the muscles rippling in his arms, his chest, his torso and his legs. He felt the powerful blood coursing through his veins.