Prologue

“There is neither destiny nor fate. Our future is determined by how we choose to live our lives; make no mistake, how we live has nothing to do with how we will die.” Katherine Pettigrew

Fall 1898 San Francisco; six dark figures move through the shadows of the cemetery bordering the city’s mission district. One can be seen directing the others; he is of average height and build but the others appear gaunt and tall with long appendages. Under his guidance the party fanned out in multiple directions as they crossed the broad street and walked towards the district 500 yards east of them. The long ones had a retarded gate to them resembling a slow shuffle. This part of the district had very poor street lighting so their movements could not be detected by the naked eye from a distance. They each made their way into the district using the cover of the early morning shadows.

In 1898 the city is as rambunctious as ever and there are multiple parties going on this brisk October evening. A typical night for the patrolmen gathered at a local tavern in the mission district. Men too busy imbibing whiskey and beer to realize a couple in a deep and heated discussion. This couple went on for a good five minutes back and forth with accusations and allegations, until the woman had enough. She stood and slapped the man and then stormed out into the cold darkness. He gathered his wits and when he noticed that the patrolmen were now looking at him, the man pulled together what remained of his pride and ran after her.

The woman bolted from the establishment and turned towards the high street to get a coach if at all possible. Main street was a good three to five blocks to her right heading east but she was heading south in the wrong direction, towards the cemetery. There was energy and purpose in her steps as she continued to talk to herself about the goings on in the tavern. Her inattentiveness and otherwise neglect to pay attention to her surroundings made it easy for those lying within the shadows to notice and track her. Ten minutes passed from her exit of the tavern to where she stood now; away from the lights of the mission district and next to the cemetery.

“Oh this cannot be right at all. The high street should be here. Oh dear, there are no lights or coaches. I must have taken the wrong turn when I left.” She thought and turned heading east towards the lights. This route took her through a multitude of side streets and closed shops. Her mind was set, so there was no retreating back to the tavern for her. So she hurried along the dark abandoned streets.

The doors to the tavern fling open once again, and this time the lover exits and gives chase. He assumes she has headed in the direction of the carriages for hire, so he heads there. Running at top speed he reaches the high street; a marvel to behold with a long line of steam coaches all gleaming under the gas lanterns. He begins to inquire if any of the cabbies have seen her. Most of the men are done for the day however there still were a few steam coaches warmed and ready. None of the men saw a woman approach the high street at all. Now he is confused. Maybe she didn’t come this way but where did she go? He pondered as he ran back to the tavern.

This time making sure to look at each side street he passed in case he caught a glimpse of her. To increase his odds, he started to call out for her. A man calling out for a woman is not irregular, however it’s 1am in the morning and a young man yelling Pauline at the top of his lungs is a disturbance. Two vendors ran to see what the commotion was about. They acknowledged that a young woman had strolled by in the direction of the cemetery. The young lover (Jack) thanked them and took off in that direction.

Jack again took note of the side streets, pausing at the end of two intersections looking up and down. Then at the next one he saw what looked to be a group of men moving swiftly in the shadows. Jack tilted his head to the side and could see the silhouette of his Pauline through the lights of the broad street. He turned and ran towards her and the men seemed to part in front of him, but then he saw them run towards her. He was steps from her when they rushed her away into a nearby alley. Her screams were faint.

Jack could hear the ripping of garments. Four more steps and he was where they had abducted her. He gasped at the site of her naked body now being bitten and ravaged by these…. men? They gorged themselves on her flesh and blood; these sub humans even began to rape her. As the life ebbed out of Pauline, a lone attacker grabbed her by the neck and bit into her hard severing the jugular vein and neck at simultaneously.

“Pauline.” the words eased out of his mouth and then realized he was next. He stepped back into the waiting clutches of the leader of the crew. Jack fought him off and then ran towards his dead lover. Why he did this made no sense to the predators as they encircled him and began to hound him like hyenas attacking a weak and vulnerable kill. He looked and saw her mutilated body. The silly spat and how it could have been averted filled Jacks thoughts. Rage began to overtake his grief and just as it did, they were on him, and he did not fight.

The leader instructed the minions to lay the bodies together and within minutes they had slithered off back into the cemetery and beyond. Their purpose for tonight was not clear as yet, but in a few hours a solution will be summoned and that will signal the beginning of their end.