“Here they come,” Detective Bowder commented to Detective George, his partner. It was early in the morning and the humidity weighed upon them like a guilty conscience. The air held the promise of sweat and discomfort. A craft flew in above their heads and lowered to the ground with minor disturbances; quieter than the wind. It was the length of a bus and twice as wide. A soft breeze from the landing blew the hot air of April towards the detectives. The sun glinted off the metallic, windowless tomb-like vehicle as it hovered off the ground. Even within their vehicle, the vampires would not want to touch the sacred and holy ground of a cemetery.
  The human detectives stood there arrogantly, awaiting the vampires at the crime scene. A door opened off the side and two vampire detectives left the craft. They wore heavy silk robes, one of a bright blood red and the other a gold. The bright red detective had an old wooden helmet that covered his head. It resembled a face, and the eyes were ruby color lenses. The outdated and vintage wooded helmet made him iconic. The second vampire wore yellow silk robes with a more modern helmet of plastic and metal with a reflective surface. Both vampires had on thick leather gloves, matching the color of their outfits, and had with their hoods up.
  The two vampires made their way to the detectives, floating off the ground to avoid the horrible pain if they touched it. The vampire dressed in gold had his hands resting on his arms and hidden in his bulky sleeves, while the vampire in red had his arms by his side.
  All the humans stared at the two. Their simple presence was a reminder of how different they were. Their thick and heavy outfits contrasted with the humans wearing short sleeve shirts to help with the heat and sweat. Heat does not bother vampires, but the sun does. Their eerie motionless movement, as a spectral and unholy entity that defied the natural world, sent shivers to most of the humans’ watching. As though they brought an aura of coldness that the heat and humidity could not touch.
  “What abominations,” Detective George commented to Bowder, indifferent if the vampires heard him.
  “Look, a couple of stiffs,” Detective Bowder said towards the vampires.
  “Bowder and George, you two are aging faster than I realized. Were you two here picking out your graves when you came upon the scene?” said Detective Millard, whose voice echoed from underneath the wooden mask.
  The two human detectives always made jokes but never could take the insults in return. Their smiles of mockery turned to anger.
  “It’s up the hill. Be careful, you don’t burn up,” Detective George said, smirking and envisioning their demise.
  “Bowder, your heart beat seems slower. You should eat healthier and take better care of yourself,” Detective Millard told them as they went past the two humans and up the hill. Bowder went white and clutched his chest, trying to feel a pulse.
  Vampire detective Rawlins, that wore the gold, spoke in the ancient vampyr tongue, “You show your age by participating in their childish game.”
  “They think you are weak and daft, even though you are older than I,” Millard responded in vampyr. Millard spoke of age, but it was more than just age and seniority. Rawlins greatly out ranked Millard in the vampire hierarchy of families and the color of their cloaks spoke of such. Mortals knew little of vampire hierarchy and those who knew were usually scholars.
  “You know that does not matter while in service,” Rawlins replied in vampyr.
  The viewpoint of the crime scene was picturesque. It was at the top of the hill that overlooked the cemetery with the skyline of the human city. A corpse laid with their feet pointing towards the sunrise. The charred remains of charcoal black bones had enough fleshy tissue to keep the corpse in a rigid state. The prominent fangs and sharp points on their brow and chin marked the victim as a vampire. That was the reason Millard and Rawlins were called in. Which the humans only did, so they did not have to work.
  A protocol of being a vampire, especially in service of the Vampire Community, was to limit vampire technology in front of humans. After seeing that the body was a vampire, Rawlins requested the helper droid from their vehicle via his helmet that connected to it. The limited technology of Millard’s mask prevented him from doing that. The droid came out and hovered along the ground to the corpse. It scanned and analyzed the crime scene.
  “It looks like the Cult of the Sun’s doing,” Rawlins commented in vampyr. Millard hunched down toward the ground and did so without touching it. “This would have been the sixth this month,” Rawlins said.
  “This man was killed and then placed here,” Millard told Rawlins in vampyr. “The body is flat on the ground. The Cultists of the Sun peer into the sun. It is part of their redemption.”
Rawlins’ silence spoke volumes of accusations. The Cult of the Sun teaches vampires to atone for their sins from killing themselves by sunrise. They are not spoken of, but well known in the higher vampire hierarchy. The Book of the Sun is heresy via the Vampire Council and vampire society. Millard ignored the silence. He read the book only to comprehend the reasoning behind the suicides. Especially since he investigates vampire killings and deaths. It is his duty to the vampire society to understand the crimes. Rawlins investigates, but does not acknowledge the book. And keeps pure to vampire society.
  The droid was a marvel of technology to all humans as it scanned the ground and the corpse. It’s robotic arms, lights and sounds amazed them. It has one main eye and simple rod arms with grabbers that come straight out of any ordinary science fiction story that humans create. For vampires, it was a tool only. Millard got closer and saw under the burnt ash of the ground underneath the bones that there was something odd there. He reached down with tweezers and pulled out a bullet that was laying between rib bones. Not any ordinary bullet, but a silver bullet with etchings of the cross and a blessing in Latin. He quickly placed it in a bullet analyzer device; in vampire speed that no human eye could witness.
  Rawlins saw the bullet and commented, “Murder,” in the ancient tongue. The bullet analyzer was the size of a pillbox and detailed its findings to Rawlins’ helmet. It gave the type of gun used, and that it was clean of fingerprints. “Clean,” he replied to Millard about the prints. Even though they could not see one another’s face, they still shared a look.
  Along a paved road in the cemetery, at the bottom of the hill of the crime scene, a police officer sits in his car with his door open to try his best to keep cool and out of the sun. The radio host mentions a heat advisory warning for that morning and to be inside before 10 am. “Everyone knows there was no global warming. It was always this hot,” one officer spoke that was standing outside the patrol car to other officers standing around. They were waiting for the vampire detectives to finish their work.
  “What about evidence of cities being underwater?” another officer replied.
  “Everyone knows that is liberal propaganda.” She quipped back, shrugging it off like a fly in her face. “Oh, what do you know? A group of people walking through the secured perimeter,” she said, commenting on a group of humans not a part of law enforcement, “I hope they won’t cause a scene. Hey, you get it? Crime scene. Cause a scene?” She chuckled at her own bad joke.
  A younger officer stepped closer to a police veteran and said, “Shouldn’t we do something?”
  “Like what? Join them? Don’t be stupid,” the veteran responded, dismissing the rookie.
  The droid had finished and returned to the car. Rawlins sent a message to their vehicle for the vampire corpse to be picked up. At that moment, the civilians that passed by the police gathered in front of the vampire’s craft and blocked the entrance. They placed their hands together and started praying, which was an assault upon the vampires. Millard stood up and faced the detectives, and Rawlins turned his attention toward them as well. George and Bowder placed their hands together and prayed with the civilians. Their faces held sympathetic and sarcastic looks upon their faces of: ‘I wish I could help, but I am powerless to do anything.’ The looks actually conveyed purposeful pitiful pleas that teased the vampires rather than offer them sincere apologies. The English prayers weakened the vampires. Latin would have been worse. The other vampires, picking up the body, emerged from the craft carrying a stretcher. They wore heavy bright grey cloaks, almost white colored. The color represented not their house, but that they were low in their family and mere servants to serve the Community. It is an honor to serve as them, but the bright grey still represented they were underneath the detectives. They also wore helmets similar to Rawlins, but a lower model, and hoods covered the top of the helmets.
  The crowd allowed the vampires through, but still hindered their movement. Their pace slowed from the praying. One person even grabbed an arm of the bright grey clad vampire. He tugged it free from their grasp easily but shaken that someone would grab them and sternly peer into their helmet.
  The prayers weakened Rawlins and Millard as well. They shared a look with each other about the disobedience of the police. The rest of human police quickly joined in the prayer. All except the rookie, whose face held an uncertain and nervous look.
  The bright grey clad vampires collected the remains of the vampire on a metal stretcher and sealed it up. When Millard noticed they finished, he made the decision to end the humans charade. He charged through the group of the humans praying at a blinding vampire speed and knocked several down, making a path for the grey clad vampires. Those vampires quickly floated down the hill, but only at a quick human pace. George and Bowder protested by yelling at Millard, and Millard only looked back at them. Rawlins, very stoic, slowly glided down through the crowd of the praying humans. The ones that were knocked down picked themselves up or were helped to their feet. One was angry and grabbed Rawlins arm, hoping to provoke him. The group that had gathered peacefully began shouting in protest of being knocked down or ‘attacked’.
  Rawlins looked at the person who grabbed him and spoke in a stern and commanding tone,        “Release me,” he spoke in clear and loud English. The person grew afraid of him and let go of   Rawlins. Rawlins did not use any vampire powers on the person. His tone worked and provided a path through the humans, yet they protested and shouted at him. The praying weakened him more than he allowed to show and even more since he was older. He did a good job of projecting strength in front of the humans and the bright grey clad younger vampires. Only Millard knew the truth.
  With the crime scene investigation complete, the hover craft took off in silence and flew away. The humans still gathered around and returned to singing an anti-vampire hymn or AVH.
The female driver expertly flew the vehicle back to the vampire police station, which was completely separate from humans and in vampire territory. A few greys looked at a video feed of the city where they used to live. Watching the humans commute in traffic in their automobiles; mostly hybrids cars, with small portions of electric and full gas.
  “Lord Rawlins, if I could approach and speak…” spoke up one of the grey cloaked vampires.
  “That title has no meaning here. You do not need to ask to approach or ask to speak,” he spoke as if to an audience, but there were only five there in the back of the hovercraft. Rawlins was not acting out. It was just his way. “We are servants here to serve the Vampire Community. You know this,” he spoke all of this in English. Few grey or new vampires knew the vampyr.
  “I only wished to…” the same one stammered on embarrassed, “… to inform you it is an honor…”
  “Groveling is not required. Do you wish to speak to me or simply pay homage? Which is not allowed,” Rawlins continued.
  “I… did you have a good evening?” the grey said, wanting to say something to Rawlins. Rawlins was part of a very famous and powerful house. He intimidated most of them after learning the vampire history at their houses after becoming a vampire.
  “Yes,” Rawlins replied. Rawlins realized of the awkward silence on the way back and decided to share something with the lowly servant, which was all they wanted. “I reread one of my favorite books of poems. It is a stereotype for old vampires to enjoy the gothic, but alas, Edward Allen Poe. Have you read of him?” Rawlins trying to form a bridge of friendship in only a polite way with the grey robbed man.
  “I have not. I don’t read,” he replied.
  “Ah!” Rawlins said.
  “I... the praying... I was not expecting that. They teach all about restraining the need to feed with so many humans around: restrain, restrain, restrain. I was not thinking they would be there to pray. It was shocking. It felt like almost an attack upon us.” A different grey clad male vampire stated.
  “A joke by Detectives George and Bowder,” Millard stated.
  “A joke?” the grey clad vampire asked, inquisitively.
  “Words are not an assault in their legal system. They are not required to stop them. They invited them knowingly it would harm us,” Millard told him.
  “One even grabbed me,” the grey clad male said.
  “Humans are vile creatures,” Rawlins told the grey male.

  Back at the vampire police station, Millard and Rawlins are sitting in their office discussing the case. Their outfits for outside locked away in an old wardrobe. “Is this a hate crime?” Rawlins asked in vampyr.
  “All crimes are of hate in one form or another,” Millard responded in vampyr. They typically speak their ancient vampyr tongue when among themselves.
  “The evidence, as you so correctly stated, points to him being killed elsewhere and placed there. The humans think it is another Cult of the Sun,” Rawlins said.
  “They enjoy winning,” Millard stated. “It makes them feel good.”
  “Always the biggest question: was it human or a vampire that killed Matt?”
  “It can be either. Matt was a young vampire from a loose family,” loose family implies it was not a family of tradition but was made outside community standards or the human was turned vampire against his will. This is, in human concepts, the only way vampires are created, but actually is rare and illegal in vampire society. Loose family is the term he had no vampire family. Vampire hierarchy and society are very conservative and only rarely make vampires. Even after being revealed to humans, vampires choose to keep their population low. “We are hunting down his creator now. He was of no one of importance in his human life. Just an average man who worked a boring job. His human girlfriend, Amie, was a liberal, so not strong ties to wanting to see him killed. She does not know what happened to him. He just left her life. He did not return to her, perhaps his creator’s order.”
  “Who is the creator?” Rawlins inquired.
  “Her name is Rachel. She was found guilty before of being a loose family, and she was made loose as well. She was convicted and placed under tight supervision under a family.”
  “Which family?”
  “The Blacks,” Millard said.
  “Did the Blacks allow Rachel to turn Matt?”
  “I contacted the Black family. They claim she was a runaway.”
  “And since it is an embarrassment to claim someone has forsaken their family,” Rawlins stated.
  “They kept it quiet and did not contact vampire police,” Millard finished his statement.
  “Families keep their problems and issues close. Black is no different. I investigated into the Black’s family security. I found out they were investigating her location. He was monitoring her. She was living among humans,” Millard said.
  “Disgusting,” Rawlins stated.
  “He did not feel any reason to retrieve her,” Millard said.
  “Unforgivable and intolerable. Vampire Law requires all members of their family to reside under their household.”
  “Indeed, that is the law,” Millard stated. “Black’s security must have had orders to keep her out. Being forced to accept a vampire from a loose family, regardless of Vampire Law by our courts, was a disgrace and is unacceptable by our society.”
Rawlins was quiet at Millard’s observation because it was true.

 

​

  “Rachel, did you turn Matt without his permission?” Millard asked.
  “Yes!” Rachel replied.
  “Do you understand you broke Vampire Law by stating this?” Rawlins replied.
“I don’t care! Being a vampire is boring! I thought it was all about sex and feeding and parties every night. They took me to the Black family and everyone rejected me. Even the servants who are human rejected me! My food would come in and sit down and they thought it was beneath them to allow me to eat on them. They never said this, but I knew. Do you know what it is like to have even your food reject you? Being a vampire sucks and it’s not like the movies! Vampires are supposed to be sexy! Not ugly, grey skinned, and hairless like you!” Rachel said, indicating Rawlins. The insult did not upset Rawlins.
  “Why did you leave Rachel?” Millard asked.
  “I didn’t leave. They forced me out. They practically allowed me to leave. I was told to be kept under strict supervision. I remember the reading the court gave me. They told me how strict it was going to be. I was to be treated like a prisoner by the Black family. It was not like that at all when I got there. I was relieved at first, but then I realized they wanted me to go. They encouraged me to go without breaking ‘Vampire Law’,” Rachel stated the last part in sarcasm. “So, I left. I went and tried to track down my first one, but I couldn’t find him. I searched for him everywhere. Black’s security did not care that I was there. They made no attempt to retrieve me. We even sat and talked a few times. I think he had a crush on me.”

 

​

  “Is it true that the Black family allowed Rachel to leave the Black’s Manor?” Millard asked.
  “Who is Rachel? I don’t know a Rachel,” the security man employed with the Black family stated.
  “Rachel was ordered by the court to be entered into the Black family,” Rawlins told him.
  “Why is that?” he asked.
  “She was a loose family,” Rawlins told him.
  “If that is the case, then she is at Black Manor under strict supervision,” he told them.
  “Do you know this?” Rawlins asked.
  “I know the Law and that is the Law,” he stated.
  “Have you seen her at Black Manor?,” Millard asked.
  “No, I work outside for the Black Family. I am not a guard.” (Outside implies outside where vampires are not allowed, among humans)
  “Have you talked with Rachel outside?” Millard asked.
  “How can I talk to Rachel outside? You just said she was entered into the Black Family under court orders. That means she is at Black Manor because that is the Law.”
  “Can we see her at Black Manor?”
  “You know that the Black Manor is not a tourist destination and people are only welcomed by invitation.”
  “Am I invited?” Millard asked.
  “You are asking the wrong guy. I only work for the Black Family as security. I am not a Lord or Lady of Family Black.”

  “So they killed Matt to cover up for Rachel. Do you think they intend to kill Rachel soon?” Millard asked.
  “Millard, you are accusing a very powerful and well respected Vampire Household of cover up with no actual proof. You need to be careful.”
  “The bullet that we found in Matt. That was supposed to be a weapon used by the humans. Now vampires are using them. What does that mean for us?” Millard asked rhetorically. Rawlins felt uncomfortable at the last part.


  Millard returned to his house, a large manor that houses fifty individuals (both vampires and their food). Massive thick stone walls with minimal widows and excessive stonework on the exterior. Most of the vampires at his house had not awakened yet, and the sun was just setting. Millard did not sleep. He blamed it on his job with the odd hours, but it was his choice. Vampires do not require sleep as humans, but it can be helpful. Millard wonders if he should sleep to sweep away, making wild accusation as he did. To accuse a powerful house like Black of cover up and vampire killing. Rawlins was right. He had to be careful. They destroyed the bullet and logged it as Cult of the Sun suicide killing. Millard belonged to an old and well-respected house. He had to look out for them and their status, as well as his own deathlihood.
  He called down for his own House Security to come upstairs to talk to him.
  “How is she?” Millard asked.
  “She is the same,” the woman replied, “her daughter came to see her today. It made her happy.”
  “Good” Millard said. It was the best news he heard all day.
  “You can go now,” Millard told her.
  Millard had to think about her, Vivian, above all else. He ventured to the tower that was heavily tinted with fortified glass. The sun was setting and Millard stood in front of it, thinking and drinking. He drank a warm mixture of alcohol and blood. He loved his house and his family. It was a beautiful old mansion with dozens of large and eloquent rooms. Decadent, beautiful wood, lush thick carpets, and gold engraved lightly everywhere one would look. It was a magnificent house, but not as great and rich as the Black’s Manor. Three times as large and decadent. He loved Vivian more than himself, his family, and the house.
  The blood mix boiled at a low temp within the glass vase on a table to his right. Blood is best warmed. He refilled his glass holding the hot glass vase. It slightly burned his hand, but it did not hurt him. He stared out at the sunset, that held an orange and reddish glare, but the tint made it look bluish and purple. It made the dark wood and dark room look lovely. He hurt and the blood mix helped some. His heart yearned for Vivian. He fell in love with her after being a vampire for over hundreds of years and the first time he saw her; she was only twenty. He did his best to keep her safe, and he even helped her once in a while financially. She eventually found a mediocre man who did not really love her but said he did and broke her heart all the time. She had three children: two boys and a girl. Her daughter looked a lot like her, but it was not Vivian. Vivian was now ninety-six years old, and he knew she would not live much longer. Perhaps another month or two. He saw after her family now: grandchildren and children. He would help them until he could no longer.
  He did not know what was more painful. Her existing and not being in his life or she was about to die forever. He never brought himself to speak to her. He knew she could never love him and he could not let his love for her go.
  “Why do you drink in front of the sun alone? What ails you, Millard?” asked Sophia. Sophia was his sister in his vampire family and was his closest friend he had. They care for each other, but he could never tell her the whole truth about Vivian.
  “The sun frightens me so. Even with the tint up. I know it would burn me. I can not stand in front of it,” Sophia told him.
  “I guess because I envision breaking the glass and the sun killing me,” Millard told her.
Sophia felt sad for her dear friend and occasional lover, “Why think of such things Millard?”
‘Because,’ he thought, ‘all I know is pain and burning from the sun can not be as painful as what I feel.’