A chill comes over me almost instantly as I stare down the corridor realizing I’m in another secret passage of this trick house. I start making my way down yet another hallway appearing the same as the others. The decor in these underground areas is much different from the quaint farmhouse upstairs for sure. Dark stone walls, in every hall lined with torches. Not electric torches for show, but actual flaming torches. Someone has a flair for the dramatic because each of the torches has a different face carved into the handle, even if they have been smoothed by time. The screaming eventually stops, but that just makes me more nervous. Someone was in pain here just a few minutes ago. Were they at the end of their road? I pause at the end before the hallway joins with several others and forces a right turn.

Peeking around the corner the scent of copper wafts through the air, and I know that danger isn’t far away. I slide around and stay low, watching for anyone or anything. Still, another staircase leading down is all that awaits me in this room. No door this time, I walk right into the next area and my heart drops. I recognize what kind of operation is going on right away. Suddenly everything makes sense, from the abductions, the screams, hidden rooms, and even the somewhat chilly temperature down here.

Dozens of people strapped into chairs with long curling tubes stretching from their veins and streaked with red. This is an underground blood bank, where they force you to make deposits. This isn’t the kind where people donate blood to vampires for some quick cash or just a taste of the vampiric lifestyle. This is where they just drain the people until there’s nothing left then toss them in the trash or sell to the next highest bidder. Still, they had to have been down here for ages without being noticed. I make my way to the first person and cut the leather straps from her ankles and arms. I press my finger down where the needle is in her vein and remove it slowly. She’ll bleed for a few minutes, but it’s better than being held captive and drained completely.

“Are you able to walk,” I ask her, looking into her sunken eyes. She’s been here for a while.

“I think so,” she mumbles through a dry voice making it clear they haven’t been taking care of these people. Probably sustained them with magic.

“How long have you been here,” I ask trying to gather some information.

“What’s the date,” she responds palming the arms of the chair and lifting herself up.

“June ninth 2019,” I respond.

“Then I’ve been here for maybe four months, but some of the people in the back have been here longer than I have. He keeps us awake with some kind of shots. We can’t even sleep because that’s how we die. What is he?”

“Alright, just, calm down. I’ll get them out. You just try to make your way to the surface. Take your time, just follow the hallways. They all link back to same place eventually,” I say making my way to the next chair.

This time an older man who smells of feces, meaning he probably couldn’t hold it when he was abducted, and they didn’t care to give him a change, heartless. Again, I try to get as much information as I can. He doesn’t have much for me that I don’t already know. I appreciate the shots they keep speaking about, as everyone is wide awake. I repeat the process another eight times before moving to the next room. More of the same. More people, different ages, races and genders. Not just human, but a few elves, two dwarves, a goblin and even an Orc. Everyone bleeds, that’s one of the indisputable truths of life.

This is the work of one of the vampires from The Primeval breed of vampires, it’s too obvious the more I go along. They’re said to be the first of the vampire kind, at least they believe it and act that way. In my opinion, they’ve been watching too many old films. Many of the big leaders are around 150 years old and think they’re carrying on Dracula’s legacy or something. Dracula was is a myth, used to spread panic among humans. It kept us away from places vampires were likely to be hiding way back then. Now, not so much. Still they all maintain those 1800s mannerisms and organize themselves in houses. The whole thing is stupid when they’re far from the strongest of vampires. The one thing they have going for them is after 100 years it isn’t strange that many of them can develop special abilities that other vampires don’t have. A survival trait I suppose, when there are other vampires who can walk around in the sun and the Primeval breed can’t even use magic. They’re garbage but view everyone who isn’t them as subhuman. Nutjobs running around yelling about phrenology, but vampires are proof that it’s bullshit; they’re the only ones believing in stuff that their existence disproves.

I imagine whoever is in charge of this operation has some kind of mind control ability. They could turn the hostages into thralls but they choose to rely on Strigoi? No, that would take some kind of mind control. So, they had to use the Strigoi to clear out the werewolves. The Primeval don’t usually work in groups despite their love of medieval house hierarchies, so there’s just one behind this for sure. Probably used some of the people who have been here the longest, or are just flat out dead now, to build the tunnels below the house. The cold temperature was to keep the blood down here refrigerated. The only question left is why they got so sloppy with the abductions all of a sudden. I make my way to final room and free a few more.

I arrive at the last chair. I’ve seen some young people in here, but this one is younger than the others. They really had to be low on opportunities, or in a hurry to start taking teenagers. He doesn’t wakeup when I cut his straps or remove the needle from his vein. He doesn’t even bleed when the needle comes out, he’s almost empty. That’s why you don’t take minors, and this one has to be maybe thirteen. I check his neck for a pulse, it’s weak, but still there. He’s got a chance if we can get him some medical attention right away. I pick the kid up and place him on my shoulders in a fireman’s carry. He doesn’t weigh much of anything at this point, if he ever did. I wonder how long he’s been here. Some of the other people have been here two or three years, but judging by his condition, he’s been here the longest. Amazing the kid hung in there this long.

I make my way out of the room still being cautious. I haven’t seen anyone down here that wasn’t strapped down, but there has to be someone close by probably lurking in the shadows with a cape and gaudy jewelry. Someone has to be around to take care of the equipment and some of the bags looked almost full so they’d have to be here to switch bags sometime soon. I just hope I didn’t miss a trap door somewhere.

Almost on cue someone drops down from the ceiling and smashes directly into my chest. I fall to my back and drop the boy. He rolls lifelessly across the stone floor like a child’s discarded play thing. If he wasn’t near death before, he is now. I clutch my knife and slide my fingers into my brass knuckles. It was too much to wish this night could end without another fight. That’s just my luck. I rise to my feet and brace myself for another attack from my unseen opponent. I got caught slipping before, but it won’t happen again.