A Year in Haven

Quick notes: Title change, because this isn't just the story of Graves, but more of a few people.

Prologue: The World Between

Chapter 1: Renold Graves

January 19th

10:05 P.M.

            The train rattled along the tracks, the light coming from the train illuminating little of the darkness around the cars. It barreled through the heavy mass of nothing moving ever closer to its final stop in Haven. The cars moved from side to side as they ran across the tracks.

Renold Graves sat in the back of the car, his eyes closed for a brief moment. The long days had proved hell for his system, and he could feel the lack of sleep finally drawing down upon him. A jerk of the train lurched him forward a bit in his seat. His eyes opened and he rubbed the heels of his palms into them, trying to stay awake.

He wore black trousers and a white shirt. A black coat was hung over the seat in front of him. His hair was jet black, with graying temples. To those who saw him he looked to be in his forties, or well aged fifties. Very few could see the centuries that were behind his eyes.

He tried to keep his mind active, to stay alert as the train rocked back and forth, as if lulling him to sleep. His eyes wandered over the car, it was mostly empty, a handful of people: old, young, man and woman. What were they’re storied, he wondered. Why where they taking a train across country to a Midwestern city like Haven.

His eyes traveled the train, looking from one to the other, details of who they were filing in, and probably soon to be forgotten. He paused for a moment. Someone one was missing, an old man. The man had been staring at him strangely for most of the train ride. His stomach felt uncomfortable. It seemed to lurch with the train knowing the old man was gone. He couldn’t explain why, but he knew nothing good was going to come of this.

That did nothing to stop time catching up with him though. His body was tired. He had been awake for days. No sleep had found him for days, and it was finally catching up. The rocking of the train did little to help him keep his mind operating. It wanted that relief of nothingness. The unease he felt swam away from him as everything faded into darkness as he fell asleep.

The Room was impossibly black. Nothing existed outside the circle of light that shone down around Renold. He slowly turned around in place, letting his mind catch up to where he now stood. When he returned to his starting position a woman was standing before him. She had platinum blonde hair cascading down her back. A wind Renold couldn’t feel passed through her hair, as well as the snow white dress she wore.

She moved towards him. “There is great danger for you in Haven.”

“I am aware.” Renold replied. This seemed to be how all their conversations began, her restating the obvious. “I need to be there. My death has little consequence.”

“You are important.” She said, and Renold always careful to watch her lips, they didn’t always match the words that she said. “Do not treat your life so.”

Renold shook his head and looked around him once more. “Is there a real reason you’re inside my head? A reason you had me fall asleep in such an unprotected place.”

The woman smiled and nodded. “You are safe there. I have seen that. My dear Renold, I want to show you something. It will be important.”

A room slowly appeared around them. It wasn’t as if a light was turned on, more as if it grew from the darkness to form its current shape. They were now standing in a luggage car. Renold could feel the rocking of the car beneath his feet. The door slid open and an old man stepped inside.

“Him,” Renold said calmly, walking towards the old man. This was the old man who had been watching him. He looked frail now. Something was bothering the old man. “I couldn’t get a good read on him, thanks to the smell of diesel this train puts out, but he is not human.”

Renold could hear the woman chuckle behind him.

“What?” he asked, annoyed with her. She kept secrets from him. It was her nature. He could never know the full truth, at least not until after it had happened. 

“Watch. This is important.”

Renold turned to the old man who was now slumped over in pain. “What…” he traied off as he saw the eyes of the man. Their color changed to amber, the pupil growing into a slit. “A wolf.”

“A werewolf changing in the luggage car. It is of importance, is it not?”

“Like you need to ask the question.” Renold scowled at the woman once more, and turned his attention to the old man once again. He was hunched over, fur growing on his face and arms. “Why is he doing this?”

The woman walked up next to Renold and guided him to stand behind the changing werewolf. “He knows someone is after him. He knows that they will be here soon and he wishes to draw them out, hopefully to kill them.”

“Seems overly...dangerous.”

The woman just smiled.

And everything skipped, as if the train hit something on the track and bounced everything into a different place. The old man lay on his stomach, no longer mid-transformation, just an old man, blood covering his back.

Renold frowned, kneeling next to the body. “He was stabbed.” He looked back to the woman. “Why didn’t you let me see who did this?”

“You can’t stop this crime, my dear Renold. But it is important. It will set in motion many things in Haven.”

Renold stood up, the room faded back to the darkness and it’s singular light. “Then what do you expect of me? What do you want me to do?”

She smiled, and put her hands on his shoulders. “I expect you to be prepared, as you have always been. There is more here than a simple death. A great many things will come to light, and you must be ready for them.”

“Then show me who did this.” Renold was annoyed. He knew he was a puppet, her puppet, but that was not a reason to just accept it. It also made him feel better to fight back against her.

She shook her head. “No. If you knew the killer now, that would not stop the events that will unfold, and only remove you from their happenings. That is something we cannot have.”

The two stood in silence, and Renold wondered what strings of his she was pulling; pride, justice, or guilt. He opened his mouth to speak, he had so much he wanted to say, to yell, and the woman raised an eyebrow. “Never mind,” he muttered under his breath. “I’m sure if you want me to know something, you would tell me.”

She gave him a slight smile. “I am here to guide you along. It is up to you to learn what the future will hold.” A brief silence came over the two again. “When you arrive in Haven it would be in your best interest to seek out my priestess there, as soon as you are able. She can help you.”

Renold gave a hollow laugh, and he woke up.

The train had come to a stop, and everyone was gathering their belongings. Renold stood and stretched out his back, feeling it crack into place. He picked up his coat and watched the other passengers make their way from the train. Despite all the movement, every noise seemed muffled, silenced by some outer force. The only thing he could hear was a heartbeat.

A tall man at the other side of the cab was staring him down, he was well muscled, and every inch of them were tense, ready for some threat. Renold felt anger, even hatred from the man who was staring him down.

Finally, he recognized the man. Devlon West, land developer, entrepreneur, a rich man for a rich age. Renold had seen the old man and West talking earlier, he remembered that now. The two had known each other.

The man continued to stare down Renold, setting the man’s teeth on edge. Was he the killer? It was a possibility, but if anything was clear from what he had seen, he shouldn’t be guessing wildly.

After several moments, Devlon West’s eyes flashed to Renold and a grimace crossed his face. He turned abruptly and left the train.

Renold stood in silence for few moments longer. It was a new year, with a new home, but that darkness around him had the same old heavy. He sighed and walked from the train.

January 20^th

12:28 A.M.

Haven is a cold city in the middle of winter. The city isn’t far south from Lake Erie, nestled in the North Western corner of Pennsylvania. The city itself shows its roots the English finding new hope in the new world. It was a city founded by Vampires and other supernatural creatures of the world, escaping Europe, looking for a new hope and home in the Americas. It didn’t work as much as they would have liked, but it became their new Haven. They still kept themselves hidden from the world of mortals, even in their new home.

Renold wasn’t bothered by the cold air. Being among the “undead” had some benefits, tolerance to a wider range of temperatures was among them. He still pulled the long coat around him tighter, emulating the human motions to the best of his ability. Mortals had become more and more self-absorbed as centuries had past, but even they would notice something odd if he didn’t shiver from time to time, or expel and breath of mist every so often.

The streets were mostly empty at this time of night, and it didn’t help that a cold rain had started to fall. No snow, thankfully, but sometimes the freezing rain was worse. It fell to the ground and froze, and people wouldn’t notice in the morning without the tell-tale white powder.

A quick turn down into an alley, and Renold found himself at the entrance to a hidden bar. It was an old place, dating back to prohibition era, hidden from the world so those who wanted to drink could do so. It served a similar purpose now.

Renold rapped his bare knuckles on the metal. He felt the faint sting of cold and felt the flesh tear slightly. A slight curse crossed his lips, even if the pain was slight, it was a waste of energy to heal himself from minor scrapes like the raw frozen knuckles. He should have worn gloves.

The panel in the door slid open and mean eyes stared back at him.

“Password.” Came a brute guttural sound. It didn’t sound all that human.

“Vampyre.” The name of the bar. It wasn’t the best password, but the place wasn’t exactly about keeping people out. If you knew the name, you knew what it was.

A long moment past, the man was looking over Renold. Renold could tell the brute recognized him, he wasn’t stupid. But the door finally swung open, and the brute stood just enough out of the way to let Renold pass.

Like any bar of this type, the clientele stopped talking and gave a quick look at the new comer. Some went back to their drinks and colleagues, others continued to stare. Renold had friends, and enemies everywhere. And even more knew his name. He wasn’t universally liked. But they all respected him, at least they respected his abilities, and knew not to challenge him.

He found an empty seat at the bar, and the man behind it gave him a wary look. Renold tapped the bar with his middle and forefinger. The smell of blood in all the glasses in the place was starting to get to him. He didn’t realize how hungry he had been. Even the scrapes on his knuckles were taking their time to heal over.

The bartender continued to give him a look, before reaching into one of the alcoves beneath the counter. He pulled a bottle and poured a drink. He passed it down the row to Renold.

It smelled of pig. The cheapest, and easiest stuff to find, what vampires with a conscience drank before blood drives and the Red Cross made human blood available without direct attacks. The pigs blood was a slight, Renold could tell, but it wasn’t worth his time to get angry. The blood would do fine for what he needed it for.

His drink was interrupted by the crackle of a radio from behind the bar

“Situation. Sol Reporting. Woman running across rooftops. Supernatural abilities. Unknown origin. Assistance needed at 23^rd and 4^th…now 5^th.” By the end of the report Renold had finished his drink. “And she’s naked.” The entire bar had stopped to listen, this apparently was a semi-common occurrence.

Before the bartender could reach down and grab the handset, the piece was already in Renold’s hands. “Copy. On the way.” He dropped the set and tossed down a few bills onto the counter. Standing in a quick motion he moved to the door.

“Wait. Who was that?” came the voice from the radio.

The brute didn’t stop Renold, those his muscles were tense. Renold had broken protocol. Things were supposed to work in certain ways, and Renold Graves was refusing to acknowledge them. But no one stopped him.

There were benefits to being one of the oldest Vampires still alive.