The Helsing manor was a large, luxurious castle, filled with wonder, and dark, dark secrets. It was rather plain as far as castles go; on the outside. It was made of stone, and had been built long before any of the towns people could remember. However, not even the oldest resident could remember anyone ever living there, other than the one occupant. The old men of the town said how the used to see him, a tall, white haired man of about 19. He was deathly pale, and only came out during the evenings, when not many people were around. However, the old men only remembered seeing him when they themselves were young, younger than that man.. "He must be dead by now, but none of the maids have stopped working." The old men would whisper, as the maids walked in and out of the castle, followed by the eyes of the townspeople.

But, what they didn’t know, was that the occupant of the manor had in fact not died, nor had he aged. Takaji Van Helsing was still that boy, the tall, white haired, deathly pale boy. He hadn’t aged, of course, because he was a vampire. He had grown tired of being followed by the prying eyes of the townspeople, and had quit going out. However, tonight was different.

He sat sideways in a overstuffed armchair, his head propped up on his elbow, staring at the black night outside, listening to the hard rain pound on the castle ceiling and the thunder rumble overhead. He sighed. It had been so long since he had seen what was beyond that window. He thirsted for fresh blood, for fresh air, for anything but the stuffiness of the old castle. The maids were not any company, for they were too afraid of him. His only friend in the castle, Walter, had died many years ago. ‘Stupid mortals’ he thought to himself angrily. ‘Why must they always perish?‘ He scoffed at himself for thinking like that, and sat up. Taking a last longing look outside, he made his mind up. He stood up, taking a black trench coat from a rack by the fireside and wrapped it around himself, walking out the door into the dismal night.

He walked down the street sullenly, wondering why he had chosen to even come out. It had been at least 30 years since he had been out, what would the townspeople think? He scoffed to himself. It was past midnight, there was no way any of those law-abiding fearful townspeople would be out this late, in this weather. Yes, not even one of those gawky love-struck teenagers would be out this late.

His train of thought was interrupted as a girl ran past him, crashing into him and rushing past in her haste. He looked up and saw her running down an alley, clutching her head in her hands and stumbling quickly more than running. He raised an eyebrow and decided to see just why such a silly girl was out so late. ‘So much for that last thought.’ He said to himself.

He turned down the alley and looked around, seeing the girl crouched away from him in the mud, the rain pouring down onto her as she continued to clutch her head. He took a few steps closer, and he could hear her low moans and groans. Taking a few steps closer, his advanced ears picked up her breathing. She was breathing quickly, in pants. She let out a small scream and fell to her knees. Mildly concerned, he took a step closer.

"Are you ok Madame?" He asked quietly, in a gentleman-like tone. Her head snapped around to look at him, her eyes wide and fearful.

"GET AWAY!" She screamed at him. "DON’T LOOK AT ME! JUST GO AWAY!" With that, she let out a scream again, and he distinctly heard a popping noise. He sniffed the air, and caught a distinct smell coming from the girl.

Werewolf blood. He now understood why she had been clutching her head and groaning. She had been resisting the change. His vampire instincts flared, and he fought back the urge to raise his vampiric claws and slay the girl for what she was. He forced his mind to think. Why had she been resisting? ‘Probably out on a date and she forgot it was a full moon’ he thought to himself. Stupid teenagers, they need to learn responsibility for what they are. His eyes widened as he heard a scream, which turned into a deep, baying howl. He snapped out of his thoughts and looked at the girl. Her clothes were torn now, and she was growing larger. Her eyes were a deep shade of crimson, and her hands and feet were quickly turning into clawed and deadly paws. He gasped lightly, and lunged at her, tackling her to the ground and holding her there.

"You shouldn’t change here, its not good." He said, his eyes boring into hers. She got one of her paws loose and slashed him across the face. His eyes suddenly turned blood red and he rolled over, throwing her against the wall of the alley. She let out a weak little squeak and fell to the ground, motionless. Takaji sat up, brushing the mud off his trench coat as he looked at her. He stood up and loomed over her body, as he heard a police siren go off not far from where they were. He looked in its direction, his eyes changing back to gray. He glanced down at her again, and picked up her body, running in the direction of his home.

He closed the iron gates of the castle behind him, holding the girl in one arm. He looked down at her face. It was covered with blood and mud, but her could see her lips moving with every breath. He smiled lightly. Good, she was alive. ‘But’ he thought as he looked at her, ‘she’s still a werewolf, the enemy of my kin. I can’t have her wake up and attack me..’ He sighed and walked to a room, opening a thick iron door and setting her into the dark, shapeless room. He closed the door behind him and locked it. ‘She may not be comfortable, but she is safe.’ He thought as he laid in his armchair again, closing his eyes warily.