Chapter 1: Blood and Rain
The world exploded into my senses all at once—cold rain slicing across my face like needles, the metallic tang of blood thick enough to taste, and screams that echoed off narrow brick walls like a symphony of horror. I hit the French Quarter alley hard, my knees scraping against wet cobblestones that gleamed crimson under flickering streetlights.
What the hell—
A blur of motion to my left. Fangs. Actual fangs, attached to a face that had lost all pretense of humanity. The thing that used to be a person lunged for my throat with inhuman speed.
[SYSTEM: Oh, brilliant. You pick a vampire war zone to pop into. Health: 100%. Try not to die before breakfast.]
The voice in my head was sardonic, clinical, and completely unhelpful. But something else kicked in—a sudden flood of information, like downloading a Wikipedia page directly into my brain. Vampire. Speed: Superhuman. Weakness: Wooden stakes, decapitation, fire.
And then I was moving.
Not my movement—something borrowed, stolen from the very creature trying to kill me. My body became liquid mercury, slipping past claws that carved gouges in the brick where my head had been a heartbeat before. The world slowed to honey-thick frames as I rolled behind a dumpster, my borrowed vampire speed making every raindrop visible, every scream sharp enough to cut glass.
"Jesus Christ," I whispered, staring at my hands. They were steady. They shouldn't be steady. I should be pissing myself, not performing Neo-level acrobatics.
Another vampire rounded the corner—this one female, her designer dress soaked in rain and something darker. She paused, nostrils flaring. "What are you?" Her voice carried a European accent, maybe Romanian. "You smell... wrong."
Before I could craft a witty response about my deodorant choices, she was on me. This time the borrowed speed felt natural, like muscle memory I'd never built. I ducked her swipe, pivoted on wet stone, and somehow ended up behind her.
"Look, lady, I'm having a really weird day—"
Her elbow caught me in the ribs, launching me into a brick wall hard enough to spider-web the mortar. Pain bloomed across my back like spilled acid, but I was already moving again, the vampire speed making me a ghost in the narrow alley.
That's when the punishment started.
My hands began to glow. Not metaphorically—actual light poured from my palms like I'd stuck my fingers in a nuclear reactor. The female vampire froze, her predatory confidence cracking.
"What trickery is this?" she hissed.
[SYSTEM: Look at you, sparkling like a cheap disco ball. Keep it up, hero.]
The glow intensified, and suddenly I was hiccupping. Violent, chest-jerking hiccups that made my ribs scream and lit up the alley like a strobe light. The vampire took a step back, confusion replacing hunger in her dead eyes.
"Are you... are you drunk?" she asked.
HIC "No, I'm having an existential crisis!" HIC "Could you maybe give me five minutes to—" HIC
A new scream cut through the rain, closer this time. Human. Terrified. Without thinking, I launched myself toward the sound, leaving the confused vampire behind. My glowing hands and rhythmic hiccups made stealth impossible, but the borrowed speed carried me to the mouth of the alley where a young woman cowered against a wrought-iron fence.
Three more vampires circled her like sharks. One looked up as I approached, and his face broke into a grin that showed far too many teeth.
"Another snack," he said in what might have been a New York accent. "How thoughtful."
I stepped between him and the woman, my hands still radiating enough light to make the vampires squint. The hiccups had stopped, but my chest felt like I'd been kicked by a horse.
"Let her go," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "She's not part of whatever psycho vampire rave you've got going on here."
The lead vampire laughed, a sound like breaking glass. "And what exactly do you think you can do about it?"
Fair question. I was a twenty-eight-year-old office worker who'd never thrown a punch in anger. These were supernatural killing machines with centuries of experience. The math was not in my favor.
But I had their speed now. And apparently, jazz hands that could blind aircraft.
"I don't know," I admitted, shifting into a stance I'd never learned. "But I'm about to find out."
The first vampire moved like liquid lightning. I moved faster. My fist caught him in the solar plexus with enough force to launch him backward into a parked car, crumpling metal like aluminum foil. The sound echoed off the buildings like a gunshot.
The remaining two vampires exchanged glances.
"Well," one said. "That's new."
"Run," I told the woman without taking my eyes off the vampires. She didn't need to be told twice. Her footsteps splashed through puddles and faded into the maze of French Quarter streets.
That's when I heard the slow clap.
A man stepped out of the shadows at the far end of the alley, and every instinct I'd borrowed from the vampires screamed apex predator. He was tall, wearing an expensive coat that somehow remained dry despite the downpour. His eyes were the color of cold honey, and when he smiled, it held all the warmth of a shark sizing up its next meal.
"Magnificent," he said in an accent that spoke of centuries and old money. "Simply magnificent. Though I do wonder..." He took a step closer, and the remaining vampires actually backed away from him. "What manner of creature are you, exactly?"
[SYSTEM: Meet Klaus Mikaelson. Original Hybrid. Daddy issues. Anger management problems. Try not to piss him off.]
Too late for that advice. My glowing hands were already dimming, the borrowed vampire speed stuttering like a dying engine. The adrenaline that had carried me through the fight was fading, leaving behind the cold reality that I was a very normal human standing in front of something that could probably bench press a city bus.
Klaus stepped closer, his movements predatory and precise. "You move like a vampire, yet your heart beats. You smell of magic, yet you cast no spells. Most curious."
"Look, Klaus—" I started.
His smile turned arctic. "How do you know my name?"
Oh. Right. I shouldn't know that. The system voice was helpful for keeping me alive but terrible for social situations.
"Lucky guess?" I tried. "You've got that whole 'ancient evil overlord' vibe going for you."
One of the remaining vampires snorted with laughter before Klaus's glare shut him up.
"Seize him," Klaus said softly.
The vampires moved as one. This time, I had no borrowed speed to save me. No superhuman reflexes. Just a rapidly fading glow and the dawning realization that I'd made a terrible mistake.
Strong hands grabbed my arms, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. Klaus approached until I could smell bourbon on his breath and see the predatory intelligence behind his eyes.
"Let's have a little chat," he said, his voice silk over steel. "I have so many questions."
As they dragged me deeper into the French Quarter's shadowed streets, I caught a glimpse of movement on a nearby rooftop. A figure in dark clothing watched our procession with interest before melting back into the night. Something about their posture, their stillness, made my skin crawl in ways that had nothing to do with the vampires currently hauling me toward what I suspected would be a very unpleasant conversation.
The rain continued to fall, washing the blood from the cobblestones but not the memory of fangs and screams from my mind. Whatever this place was, whatever I'd stumbled into, one thing was clear:
I was in way over my head.
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