That would do the trick, Blaine thought, no one would ever be able to identify the man's – Billy Shawn's – body if it was found. The sea creatures that lived near the shore were known for attacking every thing that lived, they sucked the blood out of the victim's body until there was nothing left, they could be killed by fire or heat and therefore the only time of day that they went out for blood was near midnight.

Blaine had received the order - message, he thought (he had refused to be one of those killing machines of such a man) – earlier that day. Normally it had the name, profession and the address of the victim, sometimes included with deadlines.

This time it was "Billy Shawn Jr. Drug dealers. Number 7 of Falaeri street", written with the word 'urgent' in a vicious red, placed at the bottom of the message. Blaine had memorized everything before he dumped it into the sink, the paper soaked with water melted and disappeared.

Planning his murder was an easy job, making it pass the guards and dogs outside however, was tough nut to crack. Fortunately he still had a chest full of drugs and charms that were given to him months ago, with a small dose of sleeping drug inside the dead rats – for the dogs – and needles soaked with poison – punctuated in the guards' necks, Blaine was able to get in the garden freely. He had to wait until Billy Shawn sent the girl out to make a move. The rest was history.

Torturing someone was not one of Blaine's hobbies. He liked to drink coffee, to read books in his school's library and to play his guitar. Apparently all he did now was to kill. And he hated it. Not his life, no, Blaine loved his daily life, the thing he hated was his nightly activities. When he should be doing his school work and hang out with friends.

Friends, Blaine thought as he sucked in the sea's air. May be he should call them sometimes, to inform them that he was doing fine, he should not cause any suspicion of his absent lately. Ever since his father's disappearance, Blaine had worked hard to come up with stories covering it – the fact that his father was kidnapped – stories he had told, none of them was true, yet Blaine was able to not bat an eye. He was thankful for his father's early training, otherwise the police would be running around looking for a middle-aged man a long time ago. Three days after the kidnap, Blaine had been searching for places he knew his father would be if he had gone missing, none of them was a correct answer. Day four, Blaine was contacted by one of the kidnappers and the only way for his father to come back, alive, was that Blaine work for them.

Most people right now would have been accustomed to the idea of having magical creatures living among them. Vampires, werewolves, demons, witches and wizards lived peacefully with human under The Government's laws. The Government was made with 12 members. Each of them was a leader of their respective clan or tribes. The one that held highest status was the Vampire's King who ruled over all the vampires that roamed the lands.

The Government system was built hundreds of years ago and managed to survive after the battles of tribes and clans, until twenty years ago, when the current Vampire's King – King Aaron – was murdered. His body was not found, and while many of the royal vampires believed King Aaron had a son, none of them could trace down this boy. What came afterward was the battle for the throne. Vampires were divided into three clans: the ones that had faith in the royalties and the rumored prince were called the Legalis, while their opposites were the Crudeus, the rest stayed neutral.

Although James Anderson was one of the soldiers of King Aaron in his golden days, James and his son – Blaine - were one of those who did not take sides. Blaine knew his father did this to save him from being discovered, after all, a half-breed like Blaine wouldn't be alive if any one to know of his nature. Growing up, Blaine was trained by his father both physically and mentally.

He was taught to do sword fight, hand-to-hand combat, self-defense skills and poisoning. While other children were playing in the sand playground, Blaine Anderson had already learned how to slit a person's throat. James had also taught his son how to stay away from curios eyes, to not stand out too much. Blaine was homeschooled until the age of fifteen, when he was sent to a private all boy school – Dalton Academy for magical creatures. It was not the education, however, for James to risk exposing Blaine, because Blaine had known far more than any kid his age, even more than any older vampire, about the world he lived in and how to protect himself. It was a reality test for him, a good student couldn't be fully qualified if he had not survived the real world.

Three years in Dalton and Blaine had proven his ability to blend in. He attended night class like other night creatures and slept in his own bedchamber in mornings. Blaine hated the idea of trapping himself inside when the sun was out, being a half-breed, he could freely walk under the sun without any difficulty. The teacher who taught them about vampires' nature had said, being a vampire, it was impossible for any of them to expose themselves under the sunlight without turning into ash, especially for minors like them. The ones that lived to hundreds years could endure one or two hours, but the aftermath was sunburned skin and weakened bodies. Powerful vampires, however, had proven that they could endure staying outside for three or four, still, none of them could retain their original strength.

Ever since he was a child, Blaine could run outside in the afternoon sun and play like any normal kid. Of course he would never go around and boast about this fact. Half-breeds were not allowed to live if they could not survive the attack of one hundreds man combined, even then their life would be placed on a platter, ready to be judged by The Government. To make it short, none of the half-breeds could stay alive if their identities were known publicly.

So instead of sleeping like a corpse inside his bedchamber, Blaine pretended to be asleep until the hall guards had checked his room, then woke up to do his daily exercise and researched about the human world. Blaine was fascinated to learn about the other world. Yes, he lived among human, but he was never allowed to play with human children, and never went to public school. The more he learned about them, the more he wanted to actually live with them. He could endure drinking blood vitamins, or draining blood from the wanted criminals. Because unlike other vampires that needed blood in their system twice or thrice a week, Blaine could hold his thirst for much longer, he could also consume food and water. In short, he could pass for a perfectly normal man.

He joined the school's fencing club, football club and choir club. While the earlier two was compulsory, joining the Warblers was his own choice. Being chosen as their lead soloist wasn't in his plan at all, and he had sleepless nights thinking if it was pulling too much attention. After consulting with his father, James had said yes, and Blaine couldn't be happier.

"Be careful, Blaine", his father had said in one of their rare weekends together. "You don't really know how dangerous the world around you until you live it. And for years I had done any thing in my power to hide you, I gave you sword and shield, now you'll be using it to live, don't disappoint me."

Blaine had nodded, eyes casting down the carpet underneath his feet. It took him two hours to drive back from Dalton to his house, so Blaine was tired and only wanted to take a long sleep.

"And Blaine?" He was ready to stand up and climb the stairs to his room when James called him back.

"Yes, father?"

"Whatever choices you make, just know that I'm very proud of you, and that I'll stand by you when you make it." James smiled, the first time ever Blaine saw his father smile at him, a genuine smile without any snarky comment about his sword fighting skill or his failed potions.

Blaine nodded.

And that was the last time they had spoken to each other.

Next weekends found Blaine in their house, looking for James but without any hopeful signs. He had to lie to his friends that his father was sick, which explained why he didn't attend his own son graduation ceremony.

James was in danger. Blaine was in danger too. He had questioned himself, why did the kidnapper choose him? Had they found out that he was a half-breed? Had they known any thing about his training or his skills? Which clan were they from? Either they were the Legalis or the Crudeus, the neutral ones wouldn't pull something like that off.

It had been four months since he worked for them. After each kill he would be sent a letter, a video or a voicemail that showed James Anderson was alive. The first time had been a letter, written by his father's own hand and ended with a blood signature. The second time was a phone call, in which they had James read the newspapers and told Blaine that he was in fine. Blaine could tell from his voice that his father was truly perfectly alive. The third time was a video Blaine found when he was checking his mailbox online. It had James sitting on a wooden chair behind a table, reading The Times and confirming his health. While his voice didn't quiver a single bit, his facial expressions showed he was not getting enough blood.

Blaine clenched his teeth, remembering the promise of another video of James, he ran into the darkness, let himself be covered by the shadow of the night.

When Blaine got back to his apartment, he immediately stripped naked, silently appreciated the feeling of being free from the uncomfortable clothes. He took off the gloves and threw them together with his jumpsuit, placed his boots by his shoes and launched himsself in the bathroom.

He let cold water ran down his curly locks of hair, down to his face, neck and torso while he recalled the victims by order. Some of them he had never met, some he had heard of, it was Billy Shawn that Blaine actually knew. Every body knew Billy Shawn - family from father to son had been a line of drug lords underground, his blood was that of a human and a quarter of a giant, he traded slaves and imported illegal drugs – some feared him, some were just disgusted at the man's lifestyle. Blaine had tried to find the commons between his victims, their victims, but couldn't link any of those people together.

Blaine squeezed the water controller a bit too forcefully, he was angry at himself and the kidnappers. He had come to a conclusion long ago that they possessed no knowledge about his human mother. Every order was made at night and there was no one following after him every time he went out for school. It could only be inferred that they were trying to have James Anderson and his son to take their side. He laughed hollowly at the thought, In your fucking dreams, bastards.

The bathroom door opened with Blaine clad in only a towel, his bare, toned chest exposed to the room's air, hair still damped with droplets of water running down his curls, some lingered on his long eyelashes. There, on his neck was a necklace, a small glass vial that contained small amount of blue liquid dangling on it. Blaine made a grab for his nightclothes and threw the towel into the laundry basket.

He made it to the fridge and poured himself a glass of cold water, downing it in one gulp. Blaine was going to take a very long sleep, at least, after he checked his mailbox for the video.

There was none.

May be they didn't know that he had finished that little so-called mission, Blaine thought to himself, the other times they always sent the confirming mails hours later. May be he'd received the mail tomorrow morning, after that sleep.

So he slumped on his featherlight bed, pulled the comforters close to his body and slowly relaxed.

The mail would come tomorrow, Blaine was sure of it.