Fall of the Jaguar

I could have lived out the rest of my days in Rio. Had I stayed another month there, or perhaps another week, I may never have left. Lost in one consciousness, pulled out of it by the other, in the end I was called back into the life I had left behind. After one last hunt to which the South American jaguar finally fell, I returned to England.

To be more specific, I returned to the Talamasca. I documented my experiences in Brazil, for which they were very grateful, and I became a member of the order. I gave the best years of my life to the Talamasca, and slipped easily into the comforts they provided. So easily, in fact, that many years later I found myself situated in the office of Superior General.

I returned to the South American jungles once, towards the end of my mortal life, to accompany a young friend on an expedition to retrieve a number of precious artefacts. If she hadn’t meant so much to me, I would never have done it. Yet, one might imagine my hungering to be immersed in that part of the world once more. If only I had foreseen the chain of events that would follow, my childish thrill might have been tempered by wisdom and better judgement. But that wasn’t to be.

Before and after that short-lived return, I took my residence in the London motherhouse of the Talamasca. I oversaw many fields of study and inquiry, but there was one in particular that succeeded in capturing the best part of my attention- that of the immortal blood drinker. The vampire. Our files overflowed, our vaults were filled with artefacts that these elusive creatures had left behind over the many centuries of their existence.

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