Blood Poison (Part 4)

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Fingersmith and Sneaksman

After months, of my preying, upon the villagers and those of the local market town, my father talked of sending me off to a boarding school, to brake me, of my new wayward ways. When his intentions became clear to me, I took to the roads, and headed for London, but before I did there were a few things that I had to do. On the night that I left, I settled accounts with my brother. That done, I disappeared into the underworld, of London, where I became an accomplished fingersmith and sneaksman. There my food was plentiful — sweet, tender things that resided in the houses, that I sneaked. They were left weak and tormented, by guilty dreams, but alive. As the nights grew longer and the new century approached, I discovered my folly! Folly of all Follies! I was changing, not to become a man, but that which I preyed upon, this has meant that I have never had to shave and that my voice has never broken. After I had discovered my stupidity, I tried to drink the blood of men, again, but each time I tried it, I became ill — what I guess that you might call it is food poisoning.

Too late, I met another, of my kind; initially his reaction was to kill me, but, after his mind grabbed mine, his reaction changed to one of pity. After that night for many years, he protected me, from the others of our kind, who would have killed me. But I was truly an outsider, for those who take the fiery path, are outlaw amongst other vampyres. We, vampyres, are what we eat.

Over time his pity turned to friendship, and he educated me in, our lore. Some of our lore, I knew to be untrue, for my birth was not planned as others were and my trade was not followed, by those of the blood. This education was a two-way affair, for he was astonished that I still ate normal food. Over the time of our association, I learnt the full extent of my limitations and powers, from him. Soon after our first meeting, he liberated my mind, from the constraints, that I had been brought up to have. With his help, I learnt to pass, as what I had become. Seven or more years, it took me, to accept my fate, not male, not female, a vampyre outsider, on the fiery road. My cousin “Roberta” had been another, for she had once been my mysterious, bad boy ancestor — Robert. Over all those years, my vampyre mentor and I spent many an hour together. It is mainly, thanks to him, that it came about, that I no longer needed to practise my criminal trades — apart from to feed, when the need for blood became unbearable.

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