Someone was ringing the doorbell. Repeatedly. As well as banging on the door. I checked my watch to find that I had only been granted three hours of sleep. Whoever was causing this disturbance was about to have a shorter life than they expected.
I levitated toward the door, radiating malice visibly as I illusioned crimson fog rolling across the floor. With eyes glowing and fangs snarling I threw open the door and… dropped back to the ground.
“You're early,” I growled as I waved away the fog, “An entire week early, nephew.”
A gangly, unshaven man stood slouching on my porch. He was in fact my great (of the 31st generation) nephew, Sebastian Vasile, of my late sister's posterity. A lucky bunch that survived the Holocaust. Sebastian was unfortunate to have been bitten, but lucky that he had been in his late twenties at the time.
Once I found the offender, they were promptly displaced from their undead life.
“Aw, come on Uncle Juls,” he whined, “I came to help you move in.
“As if!” I laughed, “You've brought a suitcase. You've been evicted, haven't you?”
“That doesn't mean I didn't come here to also help you move in,” Sebastian counteted, pushing the door open and walking in.
I, of course, let him do so. While he had less class than an elephant attempting to waltz, he was family. He was also the reason I moved out to this noisey city.
Sebastian was...having trouble with his immortality. It had taken decades of convincing for him to accept that vampires were not of the devil, and I could only fathom how many centuries it would take to get him used to living indefinitely.
“Alright,” I sighed, closing the door, “I do suppose you can come live here a week early.”
“You really are a saint,” he declaimed dramatically, bending down and kissing me on the cheek.
“Yes, yes, alright,” I rolled my eyes, letting out a yawn, “Just let your poor old uncle get some sleep. I've been up for what feels like days.”
“I'll just pick myself a room then?”
I pondered for a moment. “...no,” I finally said, “I haven't decided how to I want to use the layout yet. Whatever room you sleep in, do not become attached to.”
“Alrighty then, Uncle Juls,” he huffed, “I'll just...crash on the sofa then.”
“Fine by me,” I yawned again, “Just not the velvet one. Xanadu's claimed it as her own and she's been rather upsetted by the move.”
Sebastian shivered at the mention of my cat.
“You couldn't pay me to go near her in any mood.”
“Good night, nephew,” I smiled, choosing a different sofa to sleep one, “See you tomorrow.”
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