"I wonder what brings such a distinguished guest here today?"
The voice echoed through the lobby from a hidden speaker, smooth and controlled, yet carrying a faint edge of caution. Locke tilted his head slightly, his eyes flicking toward the surveillance camera mounted high above, immediately understanding the situation.
Eldridge wasn't coming out.
For someone as cautious as him, facing an unknown variable like Locke was enough to keep him hidden behind layers of security. The irony wasn't lost on Locke. This was a man who had once stood in front of the Blood Ancestor—a creature that treated human life like dust—and still dared to negotiate for his own gain.
And yet now, faced with another human, he wouldn't even show his face.
It was almost amusing.
Around him, the remaining security personnel slowly backed away, clearly having received orders. None of them dared to step forward again, the earlier display of force still fresh in their minds.
Locke didn't move to pursue anyone.
Instead, he spoke calmly, his voice carrying through the empty hall.
"Do you really think the Blood Ancestor is going to grant you immortality?"
There was a pause.
Then—
"You know about the Blood Ancestor?"
Eldridge's tone shifted instantly, the calm façade cracking just enough to reveal tension underneath. The memory of Locke's earlier speed clearly hadn't left him untouched.
"He was badly injured by me," Locke continued, his expression indifferent. "I don't know where he's hiding right now, but I'm sure you've noticed something. He hasn't contacted you in a while, has he?"
The silence that followed was heavier this time.
"...You injured the Blood Ancestor?"
Shock bled into Eldridge's voice.
Locke didn't answer immediately. Instead, he rolled up his sleeve under the camera's watchful eye and sliced open his fingertip with a precise motion.
A single drop of blood fell.
Pale.
Clear.
Almost crystalline.
"What…?"
The sound of sharp breathing crackled through the speaker.
"Eldridge," Locke said, a faint smile touching his lips, "one more thing you should know."
"I'm not a vampire."
The effect was immediate.
The silence broke, replaced by a subtle shift in tone—less guarded now, more… respectful.
"Escort this gentleman to the top floor."
Two guards stepped forward from a concealed position, their expressions tense as they gestured for Locke to follow. There was no resistance in them anymore, only unease.
Moments later, the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. The reinforced alloy panels reflected Locke's still expression as he stepped inside, ascending toward the upper levels.
When the doors opened again, the atmosphere changed.
The entire floor resembled a private medical ward, sterile and quiet, filled with the faint scent of antiseptic. At the center of the room, lying on a white hospital bed, was Eldridge.
He looked like a man already halfway to the grave.
His face was gaunt, his skin pale and stretched thin, his body frail to the point where even sitting up seemed impossible. Yet his eyes burned with something far stronger than his failing body—desire.
Locke's gaze drifted briefly to the ultraviolet searchlight positioned beside the bed.
He chuckled softly.
Then he stepped forward.
Without hesitation, he walked directly into the beam of ultraviolet light. The purple glow washed over him, illuminating the dark windbreaker he wore. The fabric itself showed faint scorch-like marks—residue from earlier encounters—but his body remained completely unaffected.
Eldridge's breathing grew heavier.
"How… how is that possible?"
He struggled to sit up, but his strength failed him halfway, forcing him back against the bed.
Locke didn't answer right away.
Instead, he studied the man in front of him carefully. For all his power and influence, Eldridge was still just a dying man clinging desperately to life. And in that moment, it was obvious.
Sometimes, humans were far more terrifying than monsters.
Without Eldridge's support, the Blood Ancestor would never have spread the infection this quickly, this efficiently. The entire outbreak bore his fingerprints.
And now—
He wanted more.
Locke reached into his coat and pulled out a small vial filled with pale liquid. Under the bright lights, it gleamed faintly, almost unnaturally.
Eldridge's eyes locked onto it instantly.
"What… do you want?" he asked, his voice trembling despite his attempt to stay composed.
That single vial contained what he had been chasing for years.
White blood.
Locke held it out, placing it within reach.
"This will free you from the Blood Ancestor's control," he said evenly. "And if things go the way I want… you'll have a steady supply."
Eldridge didn't hesitate.
His trembling hands snatched the vial, his entire body shaking as he carefully applied the liquid to his eyes. The moment the last drop was used, he leaned back, closing his eyes tightly.
Seconds passed.
Then—
Color returned to his face.
The lifeless pallor faded, replaced by a faint flush of vitality. His breathing steadied, his body visibly recovering, if only slightly.
Locke watched silently, a flicker of interest passing through his gaze.
"So little… and the effect is already this weak?"
Eldridge opened his eyes again, confusion mixed with lingering excitement. The change wasn't as dramatic as he had hoped, and that alone told him something important.
"This came from ordinary vampires," Locke said calmly. "Extracted directly from them."
Eldridge froze.
"Those creatures… can produce this?"
His eyes lit up again, brighter this time, as a new idea began to take shape in his mind.
It didn't take long.
"Then… the Blood Ancestor…"
His voice trailed off, but the implication was clear.
Locke smiled.
"You're quicker than I expected."
For a moment, Eldridge simply stared at him, the thought fully forming now. The memory of being discarded—of being treated as nothing more than a tool—burned in his mind.
Resentment.
Greed.
Desperation.
All of it twisted together.
"I need your help," Locke said finally.
"What do you want?"
Eldridge's response was immediate.
"Make sure the Blood Ancestor can't escape the sewers," Locke said, his tone carrying quiet authority. "Lock him underground."
Eldridge didn't answer right away.
Instead, he slowly pushed himself up from the bed, his frail body trembling as he stood. His eyes burned with renewed life as he stared at Locke.
"Why do you have white blood?" he asked instead.
The question hung in the air.
Compared to draining the Blood Ancestor, something else had captured his interest.
Becoming like Locke.
Locke stepped closer, his expression unreadable.
"Greed," he said softly, "is humanity's original sin."
He sat down beside the bed, his movements unhurried.
"I'm not human," he continued. "Think of me as something that stands above judgment. Any power born from darkness… I can turn it into my own."
Eldridge's eyes widened.
"Can I… become that?"
Hope—no, obsession—flashed across his face.
Locke shook his head slightly, a faint smile lingering.
"You're just an ordinary man," he said bluntly. "And you're already reaching for something divine?"
He paused, letting the words sink in.
"You can think of me as an angel," he added, his tone almost casual. "Very different from the Blood Ancestor's kind."
The rejection stung.
Eldridge's expression darkened for a brief moment, his pride taking the hit.
But Locke wasn't finished.
"I can give you a chance," he said, his voice steady. "A chance to stay human… and live forever."
Eldridge's gaze snapped back to him.
"Whether you can take it… that depends on you."
Behind Locke, several medical staff had quietly raised their weapons, aiming at his back with tense expressions. The air grew thick with silent pressure.
Locke didn't even glance at them.
Eldridge watched him carefully.
Then, slowly, he lifted a hand.
"Stand down."
The weapons lowered immediately.
The anger on his face vanished, replaced by something else—anticipation.
Under Locke's calm gaze, Eldridge nodded.
Once.
Firmly.
....
Join my exclusive P@treon community for 60+ thrilling chapters!
Link: pa*treon.com/MidnightWonder (Remove the *)
If you join now you will get 2 Chapters for free as well.
Don't miss out, join now!