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Base: Edmonton, Alberta, Canada

Date/Time: February 14, 2003/7:00 p.m.-8:00 p.m (approx.)

Incident: The fact that I'm submitting this report while being an "agent" isn't a coincidence: I've been searching for any sign of evidence of this type of activity in my hometown, and I may have found it.

For the past several months I've been traversing across the older parts of the city, bracing myself against the chilling temperatures and the sinister feeling that I may be in over my head. I checked everywhere I could think of-old buildings, abandoned factories, every decrepid house I stumbled upon and was brave enough to go into-and found nothing. After three months of this I was ready to give up. It was foolish, wasting time looking for vampires after reading some Kay-Fab ridden Web site.

But it occurred to me that in a city like this it's rare for a person to be murdered or go missing without being reported. If there was any truth to the rumour, I had a feeling I would find it if I looked in the vicinity of the abductions. I visited a missing persons Web site and acted on the first case I thought might have some substance to it. The entry is unedited, except for a few necessary blackouts:

"Ref 143. searching for Evan Eugene *****. Last seen on Jan. 25\2003 in Edmonton Alberta Canada, around 150th Ave and 94th street. Family is desperate to find him. He could be with a girl named Christine. If you have any information please contact (***) ***-3178 or internet us at sharvey@***"

It seemed real enough, though I don't really know what I was thinking, going off by myself into a seedy part of town like that. I arrived in the area long after sundown (night comes by at most five in the winter here), and began looking around. I was scared out of my mind, though less by the thought of monsters than by the ghetto-like surroundings. As I walked the area of the disappearance, I noticed several buildings that fit descriptions of vampire "nests." However, peering through each frost-streaked windows yielded nothing more than the sight of a few drunken squatters trying to find a warm place to spend the night. But then, when I looked into perhaps the tenth building of the night, I saw something which no Web site could have prepared me for and which will plague my mind for the rest of my life.

The room was dark, and the pale light that the street lamp illuminated what looked like crumpled clothing and linen all over the floor and walls. The cracks in the window allowed the smell of rotting wood and urine to reach my dripping, wind chilled nose, but there was another smell as well; something I couldn't place, something darker, more primal. Just as I was about to dismiss my feelings of unease and leave, a car drove down the pothole-covered street and for a split second its headlights shined directly into the window. In that moment, I saw something I hope I never see again. Before me, reflecting the car headlight's glare, were a pair of catlike eyes. I saw them before I saw anything else the dreadful house could offer and in a way they were the worst surprise I received that night. They're still in my head, burned there the way spots of light will remain after looking at a bright light.

When headlight's yellow glow filled more of the room, I saw the rest of the picture. The linen I had spotted moments earlier was still there, but now it was soaked in blood, brown with age. Strewn around in an unattended ring of sorts were the bodies and limbs of men and women in various degrees of decay, sprawled out like discarded trash. They obviously had been there for some time. From their clothes I guessed they had been homeless: unwanted and unmissed. Through the pile of corpses a path had been made, which led to a crude chair. As I looked on, horrified, I saw the genesis of the madness. A man, cut and bruised in every way imaginable, was strapped to the chair. I took him for dead until I saw his damned eyes open, and look towards me with an expression of such terror that it almost eclipsed the visage of the monster looming above of his almost lifeless husk.

All of this I saw in mere seconds, but the sights were lasting, none more so than the owner of the afore mentioned eyes. I only caught a glimpse of this creature, but it seemed to be a terribly misshapen old man. He was dressed in rags and had torn sheets wrapped around his diminutive form. He hunched over as he stood, his spine curved downwards at such an angle I doubted that it could support him. His hands were gnarled into points, like garden spades. This grotesque form was capped by a bald head, with thick veins running across it like the roots of a tree. His nose and ears both ended in edged points, and his mouth hung open like a poorly carved Jack-o-Lantern, with jagged slashes at both cheeks. All of these features accented the deep pockets of blackness that were its eyes. I looked right into those eyes and didn't see anything remotely human.

My gaze was broken a second later when the old Chevy turned the bend, and I was left with my hands pressed against the window of an old house, the beads of sweat on my brow freezing in the cold air. Suddenly I heard a crash from inside the house and, thinking of that thing down there, seeing me and wanting my body to be strewn out with the others after I had spent my last breath in the dank of it's lair, I immediately turned and flew to my car without looking back. When I reached my parked car, I stabbed the key into the door, jumped in and started the engine before I could take a breath.

I drove home without the radio, knowing that nothing could drown out the images in my mind. When I got home I lied in my bed for hours before finally giving in the nightmarish sleep that followed, the events of that night playing over and over.

That was about two days ago. I haven't dared to go back; it's still too fresh. Was it a vampire? Or was my mind just letting me see what I was looking for? All I know is that when I looked into the eyes of that thing, it was looking straight back at me. It knows I saw it, and I don't think something like that will let me rest easy with that knowledge. One way or another, something's going to happen.