Intro to a Steam-punk vampire

The following is the first paragraph or so of the prologue of my Novel.

The door to the dark back-alley Alehouse flew open. The man ran out, turning left now a dark lane, he splashed through the puddles, evidence that it had rained earlier that day. Taking a left, he realised he was lost, but knew he had to keep running or else, whoever, whatever was chasing him would find him. At this thought, he sprinted, taking lefts, rights, pretty much anything to throw of his pursuers. The town houses and shops passed him by, Apartment block, cafes, mechanics, all hurtling past, he paid them no heed. But when something is chasing you at high speed in early hours of the morning through the dark alleys and forgotten areas of London that tends to happen. The man ducked into a small alcove just outside a shop to catch his breath, He looked down at himself, leaning on his knees. He was drenched in sweat, his short dark hair, plastered to his scalp, and, he stunk. Once his breathing had died down, the man came to a realisation; there was no sound, no footfall, and no shouts of pursuit. In fact, if anything, there was merely an absence of sound, none of the usual sounds of London could be heard, late night carriages taking their drunken patrons home, no distant thrum of machinery under his feet. It was dead silent.

Tyler Morrisson
Monday 21st Feburary 2011