The Donor to a Vampire (Donor #1)

Prologue

The metal trolley and its' small four wheels rattled, making an uncomfortably loud sound in the otherwise noiseless night. The unevenness of the marble ground made the numerous objects on the trolleys' metal shelves shake and collide with dull thunk sounds. Even artworks adorning the walls seemed distastefully awakened as though the raucous disturbed them from their graceful slumber. It didn't help that the hallway was spacious and vast; it had an unfortunate affliction of making the sounds carry. 

If it were daytime, the footsteps of the man pushing the trolley along would be masked by the sounds of the outside woodland and many animals that lived there. Yet the night didn't allow such noises, especially if there was a new moon in the night sky, providing no illumination.

The man and its' trolley seemed to know the house's layout by heart since there seemed to be no need for any light to show the path. Slowly they made their way through the hallway and soon reached their destination. The objects stopped shaking as the man opened the heavy, old wooden door, which, surprisingly, neither squeaked nor cracked but opened soundlessly.

The light of fire embers in the room gave a slight crackle as though tiredly welcoming the man from the hallway, whose dark skin was now visible.

Pushing the trolley to the middle of the room, the dark-skinned man closed the door behind him and faced the space slightly more alight than the hallway.

Shadows reigned the room, and only the small space in front of the fireplace was visible. The firelight bounced off the objects on the top shelf of the trolley. On one side were empty plastic bags filled with empty tubes and carton boxes filled with gloves, needles, packaged gauzes, and alcohol swabs. While on the other, there were numerous upright plastic tubes filled with dark liquid, equipped with labels.

"Must I?" A disinterested male voice asked from the darkest corner of the room.

The darkness in that part of the corner of the spacious room was so thick that if the person didn't pose the question, no one would suspect that there was anyone in it.

"Those are the orders, Sire," the man flatly but amiably answered, holding the trolley rail, not showing any emotions he might have on the subject.

"Abide by the rules; it appears that I must," the person hidden by the shadows remarked. The sentence was slightly tinged with mockery.

"No one seems to find your..." the dark-skinned man paused, searching for the right word as he fumbled with objects on the metal trolley, "impulsiveness and wild behaviour credible, it seems, Sire."

Humourlessly, the man in the shadows snickered, "Ah... and now that my unfortunate affliction seems to have passed, I am to be put into a tight and confined mould of the Stainless."

"It appears to be so, Sire."

"Hmph."

The conversation was dropped, and none of the two inclined to continue.

Picking up objects from the trolley, the dark-skinned man collected three blood vacutainer tubes, a needle and a tube holder. When he reached for the carton box containing gloves, he was interrupted.

"Give it to me; it's my blood, after all, that will go into those containers and be paired to some stranger," a tanned hand extended from the dark corner into the faint light of the dying fire, waving the other man closer.

After a second of deliberation, the dark-skinned man shrugged, took a few paces and placed the object into the opened palm without another word.

"Thank you," kindly remarked one man to the other, and a smile was heard in his words. But the kindness was replaced with a cold tone flavoured with bitterness as he added, "I might as well draw blood myself, and at least I will have an illusion of control over that."

Another hand joined its' sister in the firelight, quickly and quite expertly assembling the blood-drawing kit with the swiftness of a professional. As the skin was pierced by a metal needle and vacutainer connected to a tube holder with a soft click, viscous blood started to flow and coloured the plastic tube red while quickly filling it.

A soft snarl vibrated from the corner then two glowing green orbs pierced the darkness. They were at the same height as where the man's eyes would be.

Once the first container was filled to the brim with blood, a second and then the third followed.

The dark-skinned man turned his back and silently crouched by the fire, poking the blackened logs with a poker, stirring the ember sparks to fly into the air. He waited patiently, adding wooden logs to the fire, carefully nurturing it, and trying to revive the flames. Just as he was about to be successful, something whistled past his left ear. Like an arrow, the object stabbed the burning wood, and its' force almost splintered it in two. The needle was almost fully immersed into the log while its' plastic tube holder was shrinking and melting. Slowly popping and sizzling, it started to give an unpleasant smell of burning plastic.

"Anything else? Left kidney, perhaps? It's no skin off my nose," snidely, the man in the shadows rhetorically asked.

"No, Sire."

"Well then, I trust you will deliver these."

The three vacutainers were thrown to the dark-skinned man who expertly caught them and labelled and put them in their place on the cold metal trolley. With a bow of his head toward the occupied corner of the room, the dark-skinned man pushed at the trolley and wheeled it out of the room.

"I pity the person who will be paired with me... as my Donor," the man in the corner murmured with a hint of sympathy, withdrawing into the shadow as the door softly closed.