After hearing the ethereal singing, Alex did not go back to his room, but instead wandered the streets hoping to hear it again and discover the source. To his disappointment the voice never materialized and after walking through half of London he started back towards the inn. Passing down one narrow alleyway he noticed a figure slumped between a couple of barrels, his clothes were torn and filthy and his hair overgrown and disheveled. The man was obviously not a vampire so Alex paid little attention to what he assumed was nothing more than a passed out drunk.
He was almost to the other side of the alley, when the slumped over figure suddenly looked up with bloodshot eyes and seeing the hunter, instantly began to shout profanity in his direction. Alex turned and realized that the man in question was the same one he had met in the tavern a few weeks ago. Clearly the man's situation had not improved. If the vulgar language was not enough the man began throwing rocks, garbage and anything else he could get his hands on at the hunter. The only exception was the bottle of alcohol that he held tight in his other hand.
"You bastard!! This is all your fault!! You lied to me! You told me that vampires could be killed but it didn't work! I've lost my fortune, my work, my home, my friends and even my own mother!" Emile pulled himself up and tried to attack Alex, but he was so drunk that his steps were wobbly and when he tried to land a punch he only managed to miss and fall against his opponent.
"Don't blame me for your own stupidity, you sot. I have nothing to do with your present state." Alex responded then took a step back allowing the man to fall to the ground. "I tried to warn you that vampires could only be stopped in very specific ways, but you wouldn't listen. You knew better." The hunter knelt down to the drunk laying in the mud, a bit curious to know what sort of misbegotten scheme he tried and failed at. "Tell me, how did you try to kill the creature?"
"I shot him," he answered, managing to pull himself up to his knees, His hand still holding tight to his liquor bottle. "I pointed my gun right at him and it was as if the shot passed right through him." Emile stared into space, remembering that night. He had been so careful. He was supposed to be St. George destroying the dragon, but he missed. How could he have missed? "The demon thinks he has won, well he hasn't. I'll find him and I will make him pay for what he has done to me." He started to raise his bottle to his lip, only to find it was empty. Frustrated, he tossed it against the wall, smashing it. "I'll kill that whore too. She thinks she can make a fool of me, well she's wrong. Stupid little bitch."
"Your shot did pass through him. If you had fired a silver bullet then you would have temporarily injured him. If you had been lucky enough and such a bullet had managed to pierce his heart then he would have died." Alex laughed at the notion that this idiot had ever believed himself smart enough to stop a vampire. There had been plenty of hunters throughout time that were better educated, sounder of mind and far more physically fit that had still ended up slaughtered by the nosferatu. "You'd have been better off encircling him in fire, shooting him with a silver bullet and then driving a stake through his heart. Something tells me though, that those three things are far beyond your ability."
Angered by this statement the drunk spit in Alex's face, but the hunter was not bothered. He reached in his pocket and took out a hand full of coins and held it out to the man. If there was one thing a man such as this couldn't resist, it was the chance to buy more alcohol. With enough booze, he could drown himself in an imaginary world where he was king. Emile attempted to take the money but Alex pulled his hand back. This was not charity. If he wanted the coins then he was going to need a detailed description of the vampire and his 'whore'. This was a deal that the drunk readily agreed to.
For the next several months Alex Mabon spent his time pouring over books on the undead. Such tomes were held in small, hidden and sacred libraries within the most prominent churches all over Europe. These places were so well guarded that more often than not, the ArchBishops themselves had no key with which to access the ancient volumes. That a group they perceived as insignificant as the Templars should have access often upset the church leaders. Alex, of course, paid no attention to them or their complaints.
In order to access these books the hunter had traveled to Canterbury and the oldest church in the United Kingdom. The Church of St. Martin had been built using parts of Roman structures and even predated St. Augustine's mission to convert pagans. Within the church was an old wooden cupboard that held the sacred documents. Carefully Alex took the old writing from their place and carried them back to his room at the inn to study. Seated on his bed he gently began to turn the pages reading the illuminated writing.
The earliest record of night creatures started with Adams' beautiful first wife Lilith, and her desertion of him and the Garden of Eden. God barred her from ever returning and she never did. Instead she became lovers with the Archangel Samael bearing him daughters and becoming the queen of demons. She and her offspring preyed upon the populace feeding upon the flesh and blood of humans. Included with the text were drawings depicting Lilith or Lilitu as she was called in Mesopotamia.
One of her daughters, called Gallu, fell in love with a human man. Namtar was Handsome and strong and each night Gallu visited him and gave herself to him. When she learned that he was to marry the daughter of a wealthy family, the demoness' anger and jealousy burned white hot. Determined that he would be hers and no one else's she concocted a plan to ensure he would belong to her for all eternity. On the night before he was to be married she slipped into his room and drank some of his blood as he slept. When he suddenly awoke she told him he was ill then tricked him into drinking her blood by telling him it was a cure. At that moment the first true vampire was born. Together they began creating vampire offspring throughout the ancient world. Whether the couple still roamed the Earth or not, no one knew.
Different ancient writings spoke of Namtar. They always spoke of his formidable strength, handsome face, and of course his paramours. It was said that those who went into his arms found only death. So much mythology rose up around him that it was difficult at times to ascertain what was accurate and what wasn't. Sometimes seen as the personification of death and sometimes seen as the giver of disease. Templar historians tended to dismiss the notion that he brought about sickness, but conceded that this was probably how vampirism and plagues got linked.