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“The experiment was a success,” Dr. Grant concluded. He put the pointer down in the trough of the chalkboard and pushed the glasses back up the brim of his nose. “On that note, I think we should test further.”

The man at the other end of the table eyed him coldly and silently, his bony fingers laced on the faux mahogany grain. His hair was white and wispy and was combed back, and his wrinkles, though numerous, had an elasticity to them rather than a loose sag. As if he was born with them. The eyes that regarded Dr. Grant were those of a demon--a pale gold, with pupils sharp and narrow as knives. He was dressed sharply, as well, his suit black and neatly pressed with a blood-red bow tie. Even if the scientist wasn’t aware of the man’s inhuman nature, he would have been able to candidly pick him out as a vampire. He just fit the part.

“Test further,” Malachi repeated. “As in?”

“As in, find another specimen to test on,” Dr. Grant explained. “Preferably one a bit more...intact than Mr. Ketterer was when we brought him in.”

“You mean, don’t send a werewolf out to retrieve him this time,” Malachi stated flatly.

The doctor felt the blood drain from his face. “Yes, sir,” he said. “Before Ketterer, the specimens we had used were deceased, and they all failed. We had hoped that Ketterer would die before he was possessed, leaving the otherworld entity--”

Malachi rolled his eyes. “‘Otherworld entity’,” he scoffed. “All this science mumbo-jumbo. Call it what it is.”

“Very well. Leaving the ‘demon’ to exist alone in the host’s body. The hope was to use a body that had recently ceased living, but it seemed that the presence of the host’s soul was necessary for proper compatibility.”

Malachi nodded, the first good sign Dr. Grant had all night. “I’ll have Zane go and retrieve some homeless fellow for you. When would you like this done?”

“Actually, if I may.” Dr. Grant opened the file folder he’d had sitting on the table, and pulled out a paper. “This is the medical records of a specimen we’ve had our eyes on for a while. He has family, but we’ve taken measures to deal with them. He’s here in the city on a family trip from Japan. Perhaps…”

Malachi gave the paper a cursory glance, his eyes lingering on the photo stapled to the top. “Very well. Give me the address and the time, and I’ll have Zane go out and retrieve this...Sugihara.”

“That’s actually his surname. In Asia, the order of given and family names are switched, so…” Dr. Grant drifted off when he saw the disinterested look on Malachi’s face warning him not to waste time with semantics. He nodded. “All right. The address to the place he’s staying is in this folder. It’s a hotel right by Hobble Creek, as luck would have it. As for time, as soon as possible would be best.”

Malachi gave an affirmative dip of his head. Getting up, he slid the paper back into the folder and tucked the entire folder under his arm.

“You will have your new test subject by ten PM,” he stated flatly as he left the room.

Dr. Grant sighed in some relief. He’d been stressing out over this meeting for days; now that it was over, he felt like a weight had been lifted.

And soon, he could get back to work. He smiled at the thought. For so long, he’d been pondering over the paperwork. The notes. The formulas. The results and the conclusions. Soon he would be able to actually work. And he was looking forward to playing with this new specimen.

He headed out of the room and down to the lower level. It was in a similar room, five years ago, where he’d seen his first positive result. He’d set one boy down on the circle carved into the concrete, and watched as he regrew limbs and regained consciousness from a near-death state. It had been fascinating to watch the wounds knit back together without so much as a scar.

Soon he’d set another specimen in the circle and watch what unfolded. He was quite looking forward to it.

*

“Ryū? Where’d you run off to?”

Taka ran through the streets, panic beginning to set in. He’d looked away from his younger brother for what felt like two seconds, and when he’d turned around the toddler was gone, swept up in the chaos that was the crowd of Hobble City, Utah. Being from Shibuya, Taka wasn’t a stranger to crowds, but this place and its people were a lot different from what he was used to. He didn’t know why he’d thought it would be okay to glance away for a second.

He pushed his way through the throngs, ignoring the dirty looks cast his way. “Gotta find him,” he muttered to himself.

Someone grabbed his hand, and for a moment he was relieved. Ryū had found him after all, and judging by the strength in his grip, he was scared and about to ask his big brother to take him back to the hotel. But as Taka looked down, that relief vanished. The hand wrapping around his was pale, in complete contrast to Ryū’s dark complexion. The nails were painted black, the polish chipped badly around the tips. Gold rings decorated the bony knuckles. Most importantly, the hand was that of an adult.

Taka looked up into the face of the person who’d grabbed his hand. The face was just as bony as the hand and framed with long and greasy black hair, silver eyes underlined with heavy bags and thick black eyeliner, mouth twisted into a sinister smile.

Taka’s heart stopped when he saw the fangs peeking out between the stranger’s lips.

He said something in English. Taka’s English wasn’t very good, but he caught his name in between the barely-familiar syllables.

This man knew him.

He wrenched his hand away, his search for Ryū temporarily forgotten in light of a new goal--to escape. Whatever this man wanted from him, he didn’t want to find out. He broke free from the crowd and nearly ran into someone else.

“ Sumimasen ,” he said, trying to skirt around the man, but was again stopped by a hand, this one on his shoulder. The man looked to be in his teens--he was stocky and shorter than the other, with dirty blond hair styled in a mullet and a denim vest over a black band T-shirt.

Taka moved to pull away from him, then saw the eyes staring him down from a deadpan expression. They were the same color as the other stranger’s.

He said something, but Taka was in a panic now and he ripped away from the man’s hand, barely able to make out what was said. Unbalanced, he stumbled and fell, wincing as the impact sent a sharp pain up his backside. In any other situation, he might be humiliated, falling on his ass in front of a complete stranger.

The blond hauled him up by the front of his collar. Out of the corner of his eye, Taka saw the dark outline of the first stranger separating from the crowd.

Then something knocked into his head, and his vision went dark.

*

When he opened his eyes, it was still dark. Taka felt like he was inside, but the swirling motions in the near-black suggested clouds. He made an attempt to get up, but found himself completely frozen.

It was familiar, though. He distantly recalled feeling unable to move like this before. The surface of his skin tingling, almost vibrating. The weight of something sitting on his chest. The absolute inability to move even a finger, no matter how hard he willed it to just twitch. A thrumming in his ears, sounding like someone’s speech recorded and played through a speaker right beside his ear, too loud to make out any real words. He knew what he’d see if he tilted his eyes downward, and just to prove to himself that he would, he did just that. After all, whenever he saw it, he always woke up. So maybe, if he looked at the thing sitting on his chest, he’d wake up back in the hotel room, with his brother curled up next to him and the steady, light snoring of their mother in the other bed.

So he tilted his eyes downward and saw it.

It was just a shadow, a strangely elongated shadow of a person. Taka never could figure out whether it was male or female, but he didn’t think it mattered. Two sickly yellow slits cast faint light around the eye area, almost distinguishing the shape of a nose between them.

It took Taka a moment to realize he wasn’t waking up. He was staring, taking in the hazy shape of the shadow and trying to move, but he wasn’t waking up. He felt nothing but the solid surface beneath him and the weight on his chest, and as he stared, he realized that the shadow was getting closer.

The thrumming near his ears grew louder, and the staticky noise shrouding the words began to clear. He heard, clear as day, the voice of the shadow, and though it was speaking in English he understood every single word.

“Your body is mine now, boy.”

He opened his mouth, and before he could be surprised that he was able to open his mouth the shadow surged forward. He felt it breach his mouth and gagged as it tore down his throat, and the tingling and the thrumming overpowered his frozen body as he felt himself being crumpled up and stuffed down like a piece of paper in the wastebasket.

He couldn’t even scream.

Description
“The experiment was a success,” Dr. Grant concluded. He put the pointer down in the trough of the chalkboard and pushed the glasses back up the brim of his nose. “On that note, I think we should test further.”

The man at the other end of the table eyed him coldly and silently, his bony fingers laced on the faux mahogany grain. His hair was white and wispy and was combed back, and his wrinkles, though numerous, had an elasticity to them rather than a loose sag. As if he was born with them. The eyes that regarded Dr. Grant were those of a demon--a pale gold, with pupils sharp and narrow as knives. He was dressed sharply, as well, his suit black and neatly pressed with a blood-red bow tie. Even if the scientist wasn’t aware of the man’s inhuman nature, he would have been able to candidly pick him out as a vampire. He just fit the part.

“Test further,” Malachi repeated. “As in?”

“As in, find another specimen to test on,” Dr. Grant explained. “Preferably one a bit more...intact than Mr. Ketterer was when we brought him in.”

“You mean, don’t send a werewolf out to retrieve him this time,” Malachi stated flatly.

The doctor felt the blood drain from his face. “Yes, sir,” he said. “Before Ketterer, the specimens we had used were deceased, and they all failed. We had hoped that Ketterer would die before he was possessed, leaving the otherworld entity--”

Malachi rolled his eyes. “‘Otherworld entity’,” he scoffed. “All this science mumbo-jumbo. Call it what it is.”

“Very well. Leaving the ‘demon’ to exist alone in the host’s body. The hope was to use a body that had recently ceased living, but it seemed that the presence of the host’s soul was necessary for proper compatibility.”

Malachi nodded, the first good sign Dr. Grant had all night. “I’ll have Zane go and retrieve some homeless fellow for you. When would you like this done?”

“Actually, if I may.” Dr. Grant opened the file folder he’d had sitting on the table, and pulled out a paper. “This is the medical records of a specimen we’ve had our eyes on for a while. He has family, but we’ve taken measures to deal with them. He’s here in the city on a family trip from Japan. Perhaps…”

Malachi gave the paper a cursory glance, his eyes lingering on the photo stapled to the top. “Very well. Give me the address and the time, and I’ll have Zane go out and retrieve this...Sugihara.”

“That’s actually his surname. In Asia, the order of given and family names are switched, so…” Dr. Grant drifted off when he saw the disinterested look on Malachi’s face warning him not to waste time with semantics. He nodded. “All right. The address to the place he’s staying is in this folder. It’s a hotel right by Hobble Creek, as luck would have it. As for time, as soon as possible would be best.”

Malachi gave an affirmative dip of his head. Getting up, he slid the paper back into the folder and tucked the entire folder under his arm.

“You will have your new test subject by ten PM,” he stated flatly as he left the room.

Dr. Grant sighed in some relief. He’d been stressing out over this meeting for days; now that it was over, he felt like a weight had been lifted.

And soon, he could get back to work. He smiled at the thought. For so long, he’d been pondering over the paperwork. The notes. The formulas. The results and the conclusions. Soon he would be able to actually work. And he was looking forward to playing with this new specimen.

He headed out of the room and down to the lower level. It was in a similar room, five years ago, where he’d seen his first positive result. He’d set one boy down on the circle carved into the concrete, and watched as he regrew limbs and regained consciousness from a near-death state. It had been fascinating to watch the wounds knit back together without so much as a scar.

Soon he’d set another specimen in the circle and watch what unfolded. He was quite looking forward to it.

*

“Ryū? Where’d you run off to?”

Taka ran through the streets, panic beginning to set in. He’d looked away from his younger brother for what felt like two seconds, and when he’d turned around the toddler was gone, swept up in the chaos that was the crowd of Hobble City, Utah. Being from Shibuya, Taka wasn’t a stranger to crowds, but this place and its people were a lot different from what he was used to. He didn’t know why he’d thought it would be okay to glance away for a second.

He pushed his way through the throngs, ignoring the dirty looks cast his way. “Gotta find him,” he muttered to himself.

Someone grabbed his hand, and for a moment he was relieved. Ryū had found him after all, and judging by the strength in his grip, he was scared and about to ask his big brother to take him back to the hotel. But as Taka looked down, that relief vanished. The hand wrapping around his was pale, in complete contrast to Ryū’s dark complexion. The nails were painted black, the polish chipped badly around the tips. Gold rings decorated the bony knuckles. Most importantly, the hand was that of an adult.

Taka looked up into the face of the person who’d grabbed his hand. The face was just as bony as the hand and framed with long and greasy black hair, silver eyes underlined with heavy bags and thick black eyeliner, mouth twisted into a sinister smile.

Taka’s heart stopped when he saw the fangs peeking out between the stranger’s lips.

He said something in English. Taka’s English wasn’t very good, but he caught his name in between the barely-familiar syllables.

This man knew him.

He wrenched his hand away, his search for Ryū temporarily forgotten in light of a new goal--to escape. Whatever this man wanted from him, he didn’t want to find out. He broke free from the crowd and nearly ran into someone else.

“ Sumimasen ,” he said, trying to skirt around the man, but was again stopped by a hand, this one on his shoulder. The man looked to be in his teens--he was stocky and shorter than the other, with dirty blond hair styled in a mullet and a denim vest over a black band T-shirt.

Taka moved to pull away from him, then saw the eyes staring him down from a deadpan expression. They were the same color as the other stranger’s.

He said something, but Taka was in a panic now and he ripped away from the man’s hand, barely able to make out what was said. Unbalanced, he stumbled and fell, wincing as the impact sent a sharp pain up his backside. In any other situation, he might be humiliated, falling on his ass in front of a complete stranger.

The blond hauled him up by the front of his collar. Out of the corner of his eye, Taka saw the dark outline of the first stranger separating from the crowd.

Then something knocked into his head, and his vision went dark.

*

When he opened his eyes, it was still dark. Taka felt like he was inside, but the swirling motions in the near-black suggested clouds. He made an attempt to get up, but found himself completely frozen.

It was familiar, though. He distantly recalled feeling unable to move like this before. The surface of his skin tingling, almost vibrating. The weight of something sitting on his chest. The absolute inability to move even a finger, no matter how hard he willed it to just twitch. A thrumming in his ears, sounding like someone’s speech recorded and played through a speaker right beside his ear, too loud to make out any real words. He knew what he’d see if he tilted his eyes downward, and just to prove to himself that he would, he did just that. After all, whenever he saw it, he always woke up. So maybe, if he looked at the thing sitting on his chest, he’d wake up back in the hotel room, with his brother curled up next to him and the steady, light snoring of their mother in the other bed.

So he tilted his eyes downward and saw it.

It was just a shadow, a strangely elongated shadow of a person. Taka never could figure out whether it was male or female, but he didn’t think it mattered. Two sickly yellow slits cast faint light around the eye area, almost distinguishing the shape of a nose between them.

It took Taka a moment to realize he wasn’t waking up. He was staring, taking in the hazy shape of the shadow and trying to move, but he wasn’t waking up. He felt nothing but the solid surface beneath him and the weight on his chest, and as he stared, he realized that the shadow was getting closer.

The thrumming near his ears grew louder, and the staticky noise shrouding the words began to clear. He heard, clear as day, the voice of the shadow, and though it was speaking in English he understood every single word.

“Your body is mine now, boy.”

He opened his mouth, and before he could be surprised that he was able to open his mouth the shadow surged forward. He felt it breach his mouth and gagged as it tore down his throat, and the tingling and the thrumming overpowered his frozen body as he felt himself being crumpled up and stuffed down like a piece of paper in the wastebasket.

He couldn’t even scream.