Chapter 1

After living for a thousand years, this was the first time I'd ever wanted to call the police.

And it was not because someone threatened me with a peach wood stake. It was all because of a food delivery guy.

He knocked on my door and handed me a cold pizza.

Then he suddenly grabbed my hand and jabbed my fingertip with a portable gene sequencer.

He said, "Sir, your longevity gene is 98.7% pure."

He flashed a professional smile and handed me a business card. "Interested in a membership?

"Our company offers full identity concealment, blood product transactions, and anti-tracking services. New customers get 20% off their first order."

I stared at the company name printed on the card. It read: [Dracula Security].

It was exactly the same as the company I'd set up on a whim centuries ago.

*****

I slammed the door shut with a heavy thud.

I pressed my back against the door, breathing hard, cold sweat running down my forehead and soaking the collar of my cotton shirt in seconds.

The black business card with gold lettering in my hand felt like it was searing right through my palm.

Dracula Security.

Centuries ago, I threw together this fake company for a handful of silver coins, just to hide the fact that I was immortal.

Back then, it was nothing more than a few old pieces of parchment. Nobody but me even knew it existed.

I wondered how it ended up as a multinational giant offering a full suite of identity-hiding services.

I also wondered who this delivery guy was.

The portable gene sequencer he had was freakishly precise. There was no way an ordinary salesman would have access to something like that.

I'd been living incognito in this quiet suburban town for ten years, always careful to play the part of an ordinary guy.

I wondered who blew my cover wide open.

"Marty, who was at the door?"

I heard soft footsteps coming from the bedroom.

My wife, Willow Bell, groped her way out of the shadows.

She was wearing a thin silk nightgown and holding a cup of steaming milk.

Her eyes, pale and clouded from her condition, stared blankly in my direction.

A pang of sour regret and guilt welled up inside me.

Ten years ago, she was a girl on the verge of losing her sight to a terminal illness.

I hid who I really was, settled down with her in this quiet town, and gave her the peaceful life she'd always dreamed of.

I quickly crumpled the business card and stuffed it into my pocket, then hurried over and gently took her arm.

"It's a delivery guy who got the address wrong. Just ignore him," I said.

I took the milk from her and bent down, kissing her forehead.

Willow snuggled into my arms, a peaceful smile on her lips, just like a docile cat.

"Why are your hands so cold?" Willow asked.

She fumbled for my hand, her blind fingers accidentally gliding right over the spot where the sequencer had jabbed my index finger.

I tensed up, instinctively yanking my hand back.

"It's just the wind. Opening the door let in a chill," I said.

Willow didn't press further. She reached into her nightgown pocket and pulled out a delicate little pillbox.

She said softly, "Take your vitamins for today. The doctor said your rare anemia still needs to be managed, so make sure you don't miss a dose."

She expertly poured out two white pills and gently held them to my lips.

For ten years straight, her care for me never wavered.

I used to take those pills without hesitation, completely wrapped up in the comfort she created for me.

But now, the delivery guy's words, "Your longevity gene is 98.7% pure", kept stabbing at the back of my mind like a poisoned thorn.

I had lived for a thousand years. I was a mutant with nearly flawless self-healing. I wondered how I could have anemia.

I stared at those two pills, my heart pounding so hard it felt like my blood was freezing in my veins.

"Okay, I'll take them," I said.

I opened my mouth, let her put the pills in, and took a big gulp of milk.

As she turned to set the cup down, I quickly hid the pills under my gums with my tongue.

Willow smiled contentedly and reached out to gently stroke my cheek.

"Get some rest. You've got to mow the lawn tomorrow," she said.

It was late at night, and the house was dead silent, only the ticking of the wall clock broke the stillness.

I quietly slipped out of bed, tiptoed to the bathroom, and spat the pills that had started to melt under my tongue into my palm.

The pills had a weird, bitter taste, definitely not the usual sugary coating of regular vitamins.

I grabbed a small glass bowl, poured in some water, and dropped the half-melted pills inside.

The pills dissolved almost instantly, turning the water a cloudy white.

Our cat, Pudding, happened to wander over, sniffed at the bowl, and took a few licks.

In less than thirty seconds.