Lilith

By Alexi Berry

Chapter 1

Tonight  is  a  good  night  for  a  kill.  Clear  and  cool   are  the  night’s  October  winds  as  they  run  over  my  face   while   the   moon   shines   brightly   above.   It   seems   like   ages  since  the  sky  was  so  clear,  the  moon  so  beautiful.   Yes,  tonight  is  a  good  night  for  a  kill.  Below  me  lie  the   streets   of   the   city,   crawling   with   people   going   to   and   from  who  knows  where.  All  have  their  agenda,  as  do  I.   I  stand  from  my  terrace  and  watch  the  moon  casts  its   ghostly  glow  down  upon  us  all,  bathing  us  in  its  light,   making  the  city  so  much  more  beautiful  than  it  actually   is.   The   weekend   is   here.   It’s   a   time   for   play   and   unwinding.   A   time   for   those   who   can’t   live   forever   to   try   and   do   their   best   for   three   days   of   the   week.   For   centuries  I’ve  done  this  and  it  never  gets  tiring  for  me.   While  it  is  easier  in  some  aspects,  it’s  also  a  challenge.   Gone   are   the   days   of   hunting   for   your   prey   like   some   animal  through  fields  or  forest.
Now  I  can  simply  walk  into  one  of  many  social   clubs  where  they  all  gather  and  play  their  games  in  the   hopes  of  finding  someone  to  make  their  weekend  that   much   better.   Some   so   eager,   so   desperate   to   find   someone  and  take  them  home...so  easy  a  prey  they  are.   Even  now  I  can’t  help  but  smile  as  my  eyes  close  while   the   wind   caresses   me,   soothing   to   the   touch   like   the   hands  of  a  lover.  Mmmmm,  yes,  a  lover  is  something  I   could  use  tonight  also.

From  where  I  currently  reside  the  clubs  are  just   a   brisk   walk   away.   Even   now   I   can   already   hear   the   hard,  loud  thumpin  beats  of  the  rhythms  of  music  they   have  blasting,  and  I  haven’t  gotten  within  sight  of  the   clubs  yet.  Already  I  can  smell  the  sweat  of  those  out  on   the   dance   floor.   Those   who   are   nervous   of   showing   their  fake  ID’s  for  the  first  time  to  the  bouncer  at  the   door  and  others  who  simply  can’t  wait  to  enter  the  fray   that  lies  inside.  It  only  makes  me  thirst  for  my  future   prey   that   much   more.   After   a   couple   of   minutes   I   make  it  to  one  of  the  most  upscale  clubs  in  all  of  Los   Angeles.   No   need   for   me   to   wait   in   line   since   the   owners  already  know  me.  In  a  land  where  looks  count   above   everything   else,   it   pays   to   have   the   looks   of   a   five   foot   seven,   raven   haired   women   with   emerald   green   eyes   who   looks   all   of   nineteen   or   possibly   twenty.   Slender   with   some   curves,   all   in   the   right   places,   you’d   be   surprised   how   many   doors   will   open   for   you.   As   I   pass   I   can   sense   the   vicious   stares   from   the  ones  in  line.  The  “Who  does  she  think  she  is?”  look   they   give   is   funny   and   it’s   all   I   can   do   to   keep   from   laughing  hysterically  as  the  head  bouncer  is  more  than   happy  to  show  me  inside.

Inside,   the   music   envelops   me   as   the   smells   of   the   club   tackle   my   senses.   The   perfume   and   cologne   mixed  with  sweat,  along  with  the  aroma  of  alcohol  and   just  a  hint  of  cigarette  smoke  from  those  bold  enough   to  sneak  a  drag,  although  they  know  very  well  that  it’s   not   allowed,   fill   the   air.   The   club   itself   is   alive   with   prey  as  they  scatter  about,  laughing,  dancing,  touching   and  yelling  to  be  heard  over  the  blaring  music,  trying   to  be  in  the  moment.

As   you   enter,   the   lighting   reveals   you   to   everyone  and  you  don’t  need  to  see  who’s  looking  for   you  can  feel  their  eyes  on  you.  Ahead  are  a  small  group   of   stairs   that   lead   you   to   a   second   level   where   the   lighting   is   somewhat   darker   and   the   room   splits   into   two   halves   and   a   center.   One   half   is   where   the   bar   awaits  you  to  your  left,  and  on  the  right,  tables  where   one  can  sit  if  they’re  coming  off  the  dance  floor  or  not   in   the   mood   to   dance.   A   few   steps   more   forward,   the   floor   sinks   and   turns   into   the   place   to   dance,   where   multicolored  lights  adorn  you  and  whoever  else  is  out   there  putting  their  pent-‐up  energy  to  good  use.  Off  the   floor,   groups   and   couples   gather   together   around   the   small   tables,   some   have   moved   to   the   corners   shrouded   in   semi-‐darkness,   talking   of   what   they   will   do   or   want   to   do.   What   fun   they’ll   have   with   each   other  and  how  they’ll  go  about  having  such  fun.       It   is   all   one   large   game   really.   A   game   to   see   who   will   be   and   who   won’t   be   lonely   this   night.   A   game   to   see   if   life   can   be   more   exciting.   The   games   they  all  play  with  each  other  are  similar  to  what  I  do.   It’s  all  about  mind  manipulation.  One  trying  to  get  the   other  to  do  what  they  want  for  their  own  needs.  How   things   have   changed.   So   similar   to   how   I   live,   this   social  club  scene  is.  Years  ago  all  that  was  required  was   for   one   to   be   caught   unawares   and   that   was   it.   Your   life,   your   blood   was   mine.   True   I   could   still   do   those   things,  but  I’ve  found  that  it’s  so  much  more  fun  to  do   it   this   way.   To   get   them   to   where   they’re   practically   begging  you  to  take  them.  Sometimes  it’s  just  so  easy   you  almost  feel  sorry  for  them.  Almost.

It’s  the  hunt  of  it  all,  you  see.  Much  the  same  as   predators  in  the  jungles  tend  to  wait  to  pounce  rather   than   just   rush   madly   into   the   fray   of   whatever   they   happen   to   be   stalking.   The   older   you   get   the   more   challenge  you  want.

As  I  come  to  a  stop  just  before  where  the  floor   sinks,  I  pause,  scanning  for  whomever  I  will  choose  to   take   tonight.   The   laser   lights   bounce   off   of   my   jet-‐ black  one-‐piece  dress.  Black  is  always  the  color  to  wear   when  going  for  a  kill.  Light  colors  give  you  away  if  you   have   to   make   a   quick   departure.   You   never   know   whether  or  not  blood  will  get  on  you.  Each  kill  is  never   the   same.   Some   go   quietly   while   others   fight.   The   fighters  are  the  ones  who  usually  make  things  messy.       Out  of  the  corner  of  my  eye  I  spot  him.  Leaning   sideways   talking   to...to   his   fiancé,   about   their   future   plans,   about   the   future   in   general.   Hmmm,   that’s   interesting   though.   Something   I’m   sure   he   doesn’t   have  the  heart  to  tell  his  lady  love.  Through  narrowed   eyes   I   just   stare   at   the   two.   He,   facing   sideways   with   his  elbow  on  the  bar,  one  hand  holding  her  so  lovingly   as   the   other   lifted   a   glass   of   a   watered   down   scotch   with  just  a  hint  of  lime  to  go  along  with  it.  The  smell   of  the  drink  was  what  caught  my  attention  in  the  first   place.
He  looked  like  a  businessman,  in  fact,  a  young   lawyer  with  a  button-‐down  plain  white  shirt  and  black   slacks.   The   light   from   behind   the   bar   reflected   off   of   his  skin.  A  wonderful  tone  it  was  with  a  kind  of  bronze   glow   to   it.   Short,   dark   hair   with   matching   dark   eyes   and   a   gorgeous   smile   to   go   along   with   the   chiseled   features  of  his  face.  He  looked  down  on  her  with  those   eyes,  being  a  good  five  or  six  inches  on  her  in  height.   And   her,   with   blonde   hair   that’s   as   real   as   the   age   I   give   people.   It   was   in   little   curls   resting   comfortably   on  her  shoulders  that  were  covered  by  a  red  shirt  that   barely   went   past   her   belly   button   while   her   skintight   jeans  showed  her  contours  and  matched  well  with  his   black  slacks.  I  can  feel  the  corner  of  my  lip  curl  up  as  I   stare   at   the   both   of   them.   Yes,   he   will   be   the   one   tonight.
Slowly   I   make   my   way   to   where   they   are,   careful  not  to  show  that  I’ve  noticed  him.  Let  him  see   me  first.  That’s  how  I  always  play  it.  Behind  the  bar  the   bartender   works   feverishly   as   orders   come   from   all   sides.   He’s   angry   that   his   help   is   late   again.   Twenty   minutes  late  last  he  looked  at  the  clock.  Behind  me,  a   man  makes  moves  on  a  young  coed  while  at  the  back   of   his   mind   he   wonders   whether   or   not   he   remembered   to   get   that   toy   for   his   son   like   his   wife   reminded  him  to  before  he  gave  the  tired  excuse  that   he   was   going   out   “With   the   guys”   tonight.   With   time   you   can   filter   out   just   what   you   pay   attention   to   and   what  you  don’t.  To  read  one’s  mind  doesn’t  take  great   skill,  it’s  just  what  you  want  to  hear,  what  you  think  is   interesting  to  you.  Sometimes  you  can  pick  up  on,  for   better   lack   of   a   term,   vibes,   and   look   into   a   mortal’s   thoughts.

That’s  how  I  came  upon  the  Romeo,  still  trying   to   work   his   magic   on   the   coed.   If   I   hadn’t   of   already   picked   out   my   prey   for   the   night   he   surely   would   be   the  one  to  go  for.  Not  because  he’s  cheating,  or  trying   to   anyway,   on   his   wife,   but   simply   because   the   ones   who  have  done  the  most  wrong  put  up  the  best  fights,   as   if   they   know   what   lies   ahead   of   them   in   the   next   life.   I   don’t   mind   those   who   go   quietly,   but   like   the   predators  of  the  jungle,  sometimes  the  battle  is  just  as   much   fun   as   the   hunt.   But   as   I   said,   I’ve   picked   my   prey  for  the  evening.
“Oh   excuse   me,”   the   blonde   says.   She   bumped   into  me  as  I  put  up  my  hand  for  a  drink.  With  a  smile   as  fake  as  most  of  the  people  in  this  city,  I  gingerly  nod   my  head  to  her.

“It’s   okay,”   I   say.   I   notice   the   sizable   diamond   on   her   ring   finger   and   make   my   move.   “My,   that’s   a   huge  rock.  May  I  see  it?”
With   a   school-‐girlish   giggle,   she   can’t   wait   to   shove  her  hand  in  my  face  as  she  completely  turns  to   me   while   her   young   fiancé   looks   on,   a   casual   grin   of   pride  displayed  on  his  face.
“It’s   beautiful,”   I   say,   stealing   a   glance   at   her   man.   I   try   to   be   as   interested   in   her   and   her   ring   as   much   as   possible   for   she   is   the   key   to   him.   I   lift   my   hand  and  take  the  first  two  fingers  of  hers  before  she   jerks  back.
“Wow,”   a   giggle   still   in   her   voice,   “your   hands   are   cold!   Well,   you   know   what   they   say,   right?   Cold   hands,  warm  heart!  Haha!”
“Yes,”  I  said,  “they  do  say  that,  don’t  they?”       Her   perkiness   was   starting   to   wear   on   me.   Blatantly  looking  over  her  shoulder,  I  raise  my  eyes  to   her  beau.

“And   are   you   the   one   who   gave   her   this?”   He   only   nods   as   he   takes   another   sip   of   his   drink   and   scans  the  club,  acting  like  he  didn’t  want  to  partake  of   the  girl  talk.  “Well,  you’re  one  lucky  woman.”       “Yes,   I   know.   He’s   amazing,   and   he   also   does   talk.”  She  playfully  elbows  him  in  the  stomach.  “Say  hi   to   the   girl,   William.”   With   a   chuckle   he   sits   the   glass   down  and  places  his  hand  out  in  front  of  me.  I  release   hers   and   take   his,   and   like   her,   he   flinches   from   the   coldness  of  my  touch.
“Wow,   you   weren’t   kidding   about   her   hands   were  you,  honey.”  His  grip  was  firm  but  gentle.  I  let  go   and  focus  on  the  both  of  them.
“So  when  is  the  big  day?”  I  ask.
The  young  lawyer  looks  at  her;  obvious  she  was   the  one  to  do  all  the  talking.

“Next   summer   sometime.   Not   soon   enough   I   think,  but  it’ll  have  to-‐”  She  breaks  from  finishing  her   thought  when  she  notices  two  friends  behind  me.
As  if  I  wasn’t  there,  she  raises  her  arms  out  and   wide   with   mouth   gaped   open   and   screams   as   she   brushes  by  me  and  runs  to  them,  both  of  whom  were   just  as  blonde  and  irritating  as  her.  William  shakes  his   head  while  picking  up  the  half  empty  glass.
“I’m  sorry,”  he  starts,  “that’s  just  the  way  she  is.   Her  mind  is  all  over  the  place.  Short  attention  span.”     “Yes,”  I  say  as  I  look  back  at  the  three,  “must  be   one   of   her   most   endearing   qualities.   So   tell   me,   William,  how  long  have  you  and  her  been  an  item?”       He  finishes  the  last  of  his  drink,  wiping  off  what   drops  remain  on  his  lips.  “About  a  year  and  half  now.”   Again  I  turn  to  see  that  she  was  still  caught  up  in  the   moment  with  her  friends,  so  I  moved  closer  to  him.       “She  seems  like  a  nice  girl.”  I  make  sure  that  the   tone   of   my   voice   doesn’t   match   the   words   that   lie   within  it.
“Are   you   sure   about   that?”   he   asks   half   offended.
He   bit,   just   like   I   knew   he   would.   Now   here   is   where   the   manipulation   starts.   I   make   sure   to   look   him   dead   in   his   eyes,   unflinchingly,   with   a   straight   face  as  I  give  him  his  answer,  “About  as  sure  as  you  are   on  whether  or  not  you  want  to  spend  the  rest  of  your   life  with...”
“Belinda.  And  who  are  you  to  insinuate  that  I’m   having  second  thoughts?  You  don’t  even  know  me.”       I’d   struck   a   nerve,   revealing   to   him   what   he   didn't  want  to  admit  to  himself.

“I   don’t   have   to   know   you   when   I   can   see   it   plain   as   day   in   your   eyes...when   you   look   at   her.   As   you’re   looking   at   her   now.   She’s   more   involved   with   her  friends,  not  even  taking  the  time  to  introduce  you   to  them  yet.”

He   tries   to   masks   his   irritation   with   me   by   giving   a   laugh   while   turning   back   towards   the   bartender   with   his   hand   raised   signaling   for   another   drink.
“I’m  sorry,”  I  say  as  I  turn  my  eyes  from  him  to   the  giant  mirror  behind  the  bar  where  the  reflection  of   bottles   holding   alcohol   of   all   sorts   adorn   a   mantle   in   front   of   it.   They   shine   and   gleam   as   if   they   had   just   been   made   brand   new.   And   yes,   I   can   also   see   my   reflection  there  also.
“Perhaps  I  was  wrong  in  saying  that.  But  let  me   ask  you  this,  William.  Do  you  love  her?”
He   completely   faces   the   bar   now   as   he   leans   with  both  elbows  on  the  counter...and  hesitates.       “Yeah,  yes  I  do.”
With  a  half  smile  I  let  it  drop,  “Okay  then.”       “Why  do  you  care  anyway?  What  business  is  it   of  yours?”
“I  don’t  and  it’s  not.  I’ve  just  seen  people  exactly   at  where  you  are  now,  and  I’ve  watched  them  regret  it   later.  But  you  say  you  do  love  her,  William.  You  would   know  better  than  anyone.”
The   bartender   takes   the   lawyer’s   order   and   finally   gets   to   me,   but   I   tell   him   I’m   not   thirsty   anymore.   Not   that   I   ever   really   was,   at   least   not   for   that   kind   of   drink   anyway.   His   lady   love   does   eventually   return   with   friends   in   tow   and   introduces   the   both   of   them   to   us.   William   tries   not   to   let   the   frustration  of  the  sudden  knowledge  that  he  is  on  the   verge  of  making  a  mistake  show  to  his  lady  love.  As  he   struggles   to   put   on   a   brave   front,   I   move   off   to   the   dance   floor,   giving   him   a   provocative   look   while   his   girl  isn’t  paying  attention.

For  the  next  hour  and  a  half  I  watch  and  catch   him   watching   me   at   times   while   I   dance   with   a   few   people.  After  a  while  of  that  I  decide  to  retreat  to  one   of  the  tables  in  the  darkened  part  of  the  club,  and  as  I   did,  I  made  sure  he  saw    where  I  went.  From  there  I  sit,   watch   and   bide   my   time.   The   seeds   of   manipulation   have  been  planted.  Even  now,  as  I  watch  him,  I  see  the   work   I   had   laid   start   to   pay   off.   You   see,   each   person   has  a  certain  button  you  need  to  push  to  get  them  to   do  what  you  want.  For  some  it’s  their  pride  and  others   courage.   And   for   others,   others   like   William,   it’s   forcing  them  to  look  into  themselves  and  see  the  part   of   them   that   they   don’t   want   to   face.   For   the   young   lawyer,  it’s  being  the  fool  attached  to  the  idiot.     The   four   of   them   hadn’t   moved   from   that   bar;   and   while   Belinda   was   having   a   wonderful   time   with   her   friends,   William   was   starting   to   waiver.   He   was   tiring,  of  the  club,  of  the  music,  of  Belinda’s  friends,  of   the  atmosphere  and  of  Belinda.  Minutes  continued  to   tick   away,   while   I   shooed   off   those   who   came   to   ask   me   for   a   dance   and   for   other   things.   The   more   time   passed  the  more  his  eyes  would  find  their  way  to  mine.   The  corner  I  was  in  was  dark  but  light  enough  for  the   both  of  us  to  see  one  another.  It  was  half  past  three  in   the   morning   now,   and   I   had   spent   the   whole   night   waiting  for  the  inevitable  moment.

When   I   finally   do   get   him,   it   will   be   all   the   sweeter.  His  lady  love  and  friends  break  for  the  ladies   room,  and  as  soon  as  they  disappear  behind  the  purple   colored  doors  I  spring  from  my  chair,  my  eyes  connect   with  his  while  I  walk  right  passed  him  without  saying   one  word.  The  look  I  gave  him  said  it  all.  If  his  love  for   her  was  real,  he  would  stay  right  where  he  was  and  not   give   me   anymore   thought.   But   if   the   manipulation   worked,  if  I  had  gotten  to  him  and  showed  him  what   he  didn’t  want...

The   rush   of   the   cool   air   from   the   outside   washes   over   me,   and   I   welcomed   it   as   it   played   with   my  hair  and  brushed  the  smell  of  the  club  from  me.  It   was   a   soft   gust   lifting   the   straight   strands   of   hair   up   and  off  my  shoulders,  suspending  it  in  the  air  for  all  of   a  second.  Inside  the  club,  the  air  had  grown  stale  and   bitter,   like   it   does   once   the   excitement   of   the   night   calms.   The   sound   of   the   blasting   music   fades   with   each   step   I   take   away   from   it   while   behind   me   I   can   hear  the  sound  of  fast  pacing.
“Wait,”  a  voice  calls  out.  Stopping  in  my  tracks,   I  turn  slightly  and  see  William,  in  a  half  run  half  walk   mode,  behind  me.
“What’s   this?”   I   ask,   trying   my   best   to   appear   confused  to  him.
“You   were   right,”   he   says   to   me   with   a   boyish   look   of   defeat   painted   on   his   face.   The   kind   of   look   one  would  show  to  their  mother  after  loosing  a  game,   hoping,   needing   to   get   that   “It’ll   be   alright,”   kiss   and   hug  from  her.  “You  were  right.  I  don’t  know  how,  but   you  were  right.”
I   peered   around   his   shoulder   and   saw   no   sign   of-‐
“Belinda  left.  I-‐I  told  her  maybe  we  should  give   this   some   thought   first.   She   didn’t   take   hearing   that   too  well.”
Here  he  was,  a  stranger  surrounded  only  by  me   and   other   strangers,   as   the   night   surrounded   us   all,   talking  to  me  as  if  we  had  known  each  other  for  years.   I  stepped  closer  to  him,  my  arms  crossed,  a  mixed  look   of  sadness  and  concern  on  my  face.
“I’m   sorry.   But   now   you   finally   know,   don’t   you?”  I  asked.
He  lowered  his  head,  wounded  and  heartbroken,   he   could   only   accept   it   now.   “I   can   give   you   a   ride   if   you’d  like.”
I  shake  my  head  no,  knowing  he  wouldn’t  take   the  first  as  a  definite  answer.
“Are  you  sure?”
For  a  few  seconds  I  pause  before  finally  answering.   “I  don’t  live  that  far  from  here,  but  I  guess  it  would  be   okay.”
Minutes   later,   as   the   four   o’clock   hour   drew   near,   we   pulled   up   to   my   apartment   and   the   beaten   look  was  still  fresh  on  his  face  as  I  opened  the  door.       “Would  you  like  to  come  up?”  He  pauses,  but  I   already  know  what  the  answer  will  be.

Seconds  later  we’re  at  my  front  door.  He  begins   to  turn  away  as  I  place  my  keys  in  the  lock.  In  the  span   of  a  second  I  unlock,  open  the  door  and  grab  his  hand.   At  the  end  of  the  hallway  where  I  live  is  a  window.  The   moonlight   pouring   through   it   highlights   his   eyes,   giving   a   kind   of   a   champagne   sparkle   to   them.   I   can   feel  his  hand  flinch  again,  all  be  it  not  as  much  as  the   first  time.  I  could  feel  his  hesitation  when  I  drew  him   near  to  me,  but  I  could  also  sense  in  him  the  fight  he   puts  up  is  more  for  show  than  anything.

A  soft  kiss  finds  its  way  between  the  both  of  us,   and   the   warmth   of   his   kiss,   the   heat   that’s   channeled   through   his   entire   body   from   his   lips,   wraps   around   me   in   a   dizzying   embrace.   Through   it   I   can   feel   everything   he   wanted,   needed   and   yearned   from   me.   His  fight  to  resist  is  over  when  I  feel  both  of  his  hands   around  me,  pushing  me  into  my  doorway,  all  the  while   our  lips  never  separating.

We   completely   leave   the   hallway   and   enter   inside  my  home,  and  there  I  break  from  him,  walking   backwards,   keeping   my   eyes   on   him   the   entire   time   before  rounding  a  corner  to  my  room.  I  only  wait  a  few   seconds   before   he   follows.   No   lights   are   on   in   my   home,   only   the   light   from   outside   played   a   role   as   shadows  from  my  furnishings  draped  the  walls  around   us.   Between   us   no   words   are   said   as   we   fall   onto   the   foot  of  the  bed.  Everything  is  acting  and  reacting  now.   The   only   sound   in   the   air   was   the   quick   pacing   of   breathing,  the  faint  sounds  of  lips  on  skin  and  of  two   bodies  together.

I  lay  there,  feeling  his  lips  between  my  legs,  the   force   of   him,   pushing   me   further   and   further   up   towards  my  headboard.  As  he  pushed  me,  I  placed  my   hands   on   him,   caressing   his   hair   and   guiding   him,   telling  him  what  to  do  without  saying  anything  at  all.   Soon  I  could  feel  him  move  upward  until  his  eyes  were   locked   on   mine.   They   were   tense   with   the   night’s   emotion,   energy   and   thoughts   running   through   his   soul  as  sweat  rolled  passed  them,  tracing  the  perfectly   lined  contours  of  his  face.
We   moved   as   one,   our   bodies   locked   together,   the   warm   sweat   of   him   falling   on   me,   adding   to   the   sensations  I  felt  throughout  my  body.  I  could  feel  the   beating   heart   within   his   chest   on   mine,   his   fingers   running   through   my   hair,   moving   in   perfect   tandem   with  one  another  as  we  moved  rhythmically  together.   Soon   the   feeling   came   to   me;   and   I   closed   my   eyes,   letting  it  take  me  with  a  sensual  rapture  that  sends  my   body   to   trembling.   He   follows   suit   as   he   has   his   moment,   his   entire   body   turning   stiff,   his   muscles   seemingly  buckling  from  the  extreme  pleasure  of  it  all.   And   slowly   he   falls   onto   me,   placing   his   head   passed   mine   while   my   hands   travel   up   and   down   his   back,   feeling  the  last  of  the  tension  leave  his  body.

Slightly  I  turn  his  head  kissing  his  neck,  catching   the   salt   of   his   sweat   on   my   tongue   and   slowly   move   my   way   down   to   his   chest   feeling   that   he   uses   what   energy   he   has   to   lift   himself,   letting   me   find   my   spot   on  him.  My  nails  softly  play  across  the  smoothness  of   his   back,   and   I   find   my   place.   I   kiss   him.   Then   I   kiss   him   again,   slow   and   drawn   out,   sinking   my   teeth   in   the   middle   left   part   of   his   chest,   hearing   a   low   moan   escape   from   him   as   I   do.   The   blood   from   him   pours   down  my  throat  like  a  crimson  waterfall,  the  warmth,   sweet   taste   and   power   from   the   force   of   it   cascading   into   my   mouth   is   more   intoxicating   than   any   drug   known   to   mortals.   I   feel   the   beating   of   his   heart   against   my   lips,   pumping   every   last   drop   from   him   into  me  as  he  goes  quietly  into  forever  in  my  arms.       And   when   it   is   done,   I   roll   him   onto   his   back   and  just  look  at  him.  It’s  something  I’ve  always  done-‐ admiring   my   prey   the   way   artists   admire   their   work   after   they’ve   finished   with   it.   The   bronze   tone   of   his   skin   shows   itself   to   be   slightly   pale   now   as   the   dying   light   from   the   moon   shown   down   upon   his   body.   Dawn  would  be  here  soon,  and  I  would  have  to  be  rid   of  him.

Living   near   an   ocean   is   very   convenient   when   you’re   a   Vampire.   The   ocean   is   a   vast   being,   holding   many   mysteries.   It   also   takes   care   of   itself.   Cleaning   itself  of  things  it  knows  shouldn’t  be  there  through  the   help  of  the  creatures  that  reside  in  it.  Things  like  dead   bodies.  The  moon  disappears    from  view  as  the  colors   of  a  very  faint  purple  and  orange  of  the  coming  dawn,   sending  the  tide,  and  anything  that  might  be  caught  in   it,   out   to   the   waiting   sea.   The   creatures   within   it   will   see  to  it  that  the  young  lawyer  won’t  stay  in  its  graces   too   long.   As   for   his   car...A   top-‐of-‐the-‐line   BMW   with   the   keys   left   in   the   ignition   is   left   out   in   a   neighborhood   known   for   making   expensive   cars   vanish  without  a  trace.

I  make  it  home  just  as  the  first  rays  of  the  new   day  appear  from  over  the  horizon.  I  sought,  found,  and   savored   my   kill.   In   the   end   that’s   all   he   was   to   me.   That’s   all   everyone   I   pursue   is   to   me.   Nothing   more.   Nothing  less.  Yes,  one  could  say  it  was  cruel  what  I  did   to   him.   What   I   did   to   the   both   of   them.   A   man   throwing   away   his   lady   love,   his   lady   love   losing   her   future   husband.   But   that’s   how   things   can   end   in   my   world.   One   who   leads   the   life   I   lead,   who   is   like   me,   (and   there   are   many)   can’t   rationalize   what   they   do.   They  can’t  dwell,  explain  or  define  it.  Nor  should  they.   It’s  how  we  survive,  and  in  the  end...survival  is  all  that   matters  to  me.

Chapter 2

The  times  and  thoughts  of  people  have  changed   from   the   time   I   originally   came   from.   The   people   today  are  so  bold,  so  fearless  to  the  point  of  arrogance   it  makes  killing  them  that  much  more  of  a  pleasure  for   me.  Gone  are  the  days  of  my  time  when  you  knew  you   were   as   mortal   as   God   made   you.   The   days   of   simplicity,   when   the   world   was   still   young,   big   and   mysterious   to   all   who   lived   in   it,   where   knowledge   wasn’t  as  abundant  as  it  is  now.  Those  days  are  forever   gone   and   now   there   are   moments   where   I   long   for   those   times.   Those   years   before   the   world   seemed   so   small,  before  I  became  what  I  am  now...

I  was  born  in  Manchester,  England.  Long  before   it  became  a  broken  down  industrial  city,  rotted  out  by   the  very  industries  and  companies  that  helped  it  thrive   for   so   long.   Lined   with   dirt   roads   and   quaint   little   homes   beneath   the   gray   skies,   Manchester   was   all   I   knew  of  the  world.  In  the  first  year  of  my  life,  1329,  it   was   a   growing   town,   evolving   steadfastly   from   the   village   it   had   been   from   centuries   before.   My   family   was   a   part   of   the   poorer   class.   My   father   worked   as   a   carpenter   and   my   mother   doing   what   so   many   other   women  did  in  that  time  which  was  simply  attending  to   their   man.   My   father   was   a   drunkard,   spending   more   time   with   a   brew   in   his   hands   than   his   own   wife.   Despite  this,  he  was  a  loving  man,  full  of  life  and  more   humor   than   most   would   think   by   looking   at   him.   A   rotund,   balding   man   with   a   dirt   colored   beard   to   go   along  with  the  constant  smell  of  alcohol,  or  the  metals   and   wood   he   had   been   working   with,   layered   upon   him,  and  you  have  an  idea  of  the  sort  of  man  my  father   was.   My   mother   was   an   Irish   immigrant.   She   held   down   the   house   and   saw   to   it   that   my   father,   no   matter   how   drunk   he   got   himself,   always   stayed   on   track   when   it   came   to   the   family.   With   a   thick   Irish   accent,   she   was   short   and   chubby   as   the   years   and   gravity   had   taken   away   her   shape.   But   she   had   been   stunning.
At   least   that’s   what   my   father   would   say   with   pride   to   his   friends   during   one   of   his   many   drunken   storytelling  sessions.

“When  I  met  her,  she  was  the  prettiest  girl  in  all   the  land,  and  still  is.”
I   would   hear   him   boast   from   my   room   above.   With  a  gleeful  personality,  she  was  just  as  loving  as  my   father,   if   not   more.   She   had   big   green   eyes   that   were   calming   and   soothing   when   I   looked   into   them.   Her   hair   was   adorned   with   bright,   reddish   blonde   curls   that  went  the  length  of  her  back.
I   was   the   only   child   of   my   parents,   and   they   both   made   it   a   point   to   give   me   everything   though   they   knew   it   would   mean   putting   what   they   wanted   aside.   We   lived   in   a   small   two-‐level   shack   of   a   home,   having  only  the  necessities  within  it-‐a  bed,  a  table  for   eating   and   some   chairs   for   sitting   in.   The   upstairs   level,  which  wasn’t  even  that  really,  was  mine.  A  room   big   enough   to   take   twenty   spaces   in   either   direction,   where   you   had   to   somewhat   crouch   instead   of   standing   fully   erect,   was   where   I   spent   many   days.   I   had  hardly  any  room,  but  I  had  a  grand  view  of  all  the   world.  At  least  the  world  I  knew  of,  where  just  outside   the  town  lay,  trees  and  a  graying  sky  that  covered  the   horizon   while   some   spots   of   blue   peeked   through   at   you   and   down   upon   the   town.   I   dreamed   of   leaving   and   venturing   out   into   it.   Around   my   eighteenth   birthday  is  when  I  came  into  my  own,  at  least  so  said   my  mother.  I  was  a  woman  then  with  a  woman’s  body.   Slim   but   curved   where   it   counted   with   proportions   that  caught  more  than  some  men’s  eyes.
Soon   my   father   found   himself   taking   a   second   job   keeping   the   men   of   the   town   away   from   me.   Sometimes  it  would  go  as  far  as  him  taking  one  of  his   hammers,   that   he   would   use   to   fashion   metal   with,   with   him   as   he   insisted   on   walking   me   to   and   from   where  I  had  to  go.  That  was  life  to  us,  life  to  many  in   Manchester   at   that   time.   But   around   us   came   rumblings,   rumors   and   horror   stories   from   travelers   who   had   been   abroad   telling   of   a   pestilence   killing   tens   of   thousands.   Of   course,   stories   were   what   they   all  were  to  many.  We  felt  it  was  something  we  needn’t   give   any   attention   too.   Why   should   we?   The   menace   was   so   far   away   from   here.   What   harm   could   it   possibly   do?   But   to   our   horror,   attention   is   exactly   what  we  would  have  to  give  it  in  the  near  future.
By   the   spring   of   1348   the   pestilence   was   very   real   and   on   its   way   here,   arriving   in   Paris,   moving   closer   and   closer   to   us.   The   black   death,   the   plague,   the   gift   from   hell,   God’s   wrath,   whatever   you   wanted   to  call  it,  it  had  one  and  only  purpose-‐to  kill.  I  had  just   entered  my  nineteenth  year  and  was  unsure  if  I  would   make   it   to   my   twentieth.   Many   people   left   amid   the   chaos   and   panic   that   had   set   in.   Those   who   stayed   behind   made   it   a   point   not   to   go   out,   except   only   when   they   needed   to.   Strangers   who   were   new   to   Manchester   were   quickly   chased   out   for   fear   they   would  bring  the  monster  among  them.
By   the   fall,   the   town   of   Manchester   had   been   decimated  as  the  plague  had  hit  England  full  on.  Most   of   the   people   I   knew   had   perished   from   it,   but   oddly   enough,   my   family   had   not   fallen   victim.   My   father   seemed  to  revel  in  it,  seemingly  daring  it  to  come  into   our  household  as  he  refused  to  cower  in  fear  from  the   monster.   He   would   often   leave   the   house   and   travel   the  countryside,  going  to  other  towns  looking  for  food   since  most  of  the  local  markets  had  either  been  closed   or   the   owners   had   long   since   died.   I   can   distinctly   remember  him,  in  one  of  his  drunken  stupors,  raising   his  fist  to  the  outdoors  one  gray  morning,  saying  in  his   Manchestrian  accent,  “Damn  ya,  come  ere  if  ya  waan!   Ya  don’t  scare  me.”  It  seemed  the  more  he  dared  it  the   more   we   became   immune.   Perhaps   it   was   his   plan   all   along.   A   form   of   reverse   psychology,   or   a   form   of   reverse  luck.
I  can  remember  spending  countless  days  in  my   room  with  no  candles  to  keep  it  lighted,  just  the  light   from   the   moon   and   stars   outside   when   the   clouds   would   break   in   the   evening.   I   was   afraid   to   go   downstairs,   let   alone   go   outside.   I   would   just   spend   most  of  my  time  looking  outside  through  the  shutters   of  my  doors  to  my  window.  But  on  one  night,  one  star-‐ filled,  moonlit  night,  I  saw  him.  Coming  down  the  dirt   covered   roads,   carrying   a   satchel   over   his   shoulder   with   the   clothes   of   a   laborer   on   him.   A   traveler   who   had   come   to   seek   sanctuary   from   the   horrors   that   he   had  seen  from  the  nearby  villages  and  towns.  From  my   window  I  watched  him  pass  through  until  he  stopped   right   beneath   me.   As   if   he   knew   I   was   there,   he   stopped   dead   in   his   tracks   and   looked   up   to   where   I   was.   I   couldn’t   see   him   clearly,   just   what   the   soft   moonlight   and   stars   allowed   me   to   see.   The   ghostly   light   shown   his   shadow   upon   the   ground,   while   I   could  see  a  faint  reflection  of  hair  from  that  light,  that   seemed  as  black  as  the  night  that  surrounded  him.  He   stood   quietly   outside,   looking   up,   waiting   for   something  to  happen,  waiting  for  me.  I  crouched  back   into   a   corner,   half   terrified   and   half   intrigued.   Who   was   he?   Could   he   see   me?   Did   he   carry   the   monster   that  could  wipe  us  all  out?  Slowly  I  peered  out  again.   He  was  still  there,  and  he  spoke.
“You  have  no  fear  of  me,  my  lady,  I  don’t  carry   the  Black  Death,  I  assure  you.”
His  voice  was  mildly  deep  with  an  accent,  one  I   wasn’t   familiar   with.   Within   it   was   a   kind   of   compassion   that   could   be   felt   when   you   heard   him   speak.  He  spoke  softly  up  to  me  in  the  stillness  of  the   night   and   his   voice   granted   me   action   to   move   the   doors   that   I   had   peeked   through,   revealing   myself   to   him,   not   fully   understanding   why.   There   was   something   about   him,   something   I   couldn’t   quite   place.
“Tell   me,”   he   began,   “do   you   know   a   place   where  one  could  rest?  It  will  be  dawn  soon,  no?  I  have   traveled  the  countryside  of  this  land,  and  my  feet  have   grown  weary.”
I   felt   my   voice   start   up   in   my   throat,   but   the   words   I   had   wanted   to   say   fled   from   me   and   all   that   was  left  was  a  kind  of  high,  inaudible  sigh.  From  below   I  could  hear  him  chuckle.  If  the  light  were  brighter  he   would  have  seen  that  I  had  turned  as  red  as  a  rose  in   the  spring  morning.
I   took   in   a   breath   and   began   to   speak   again   when  the  creaking  sound  of  a  door  was  heard  and  the   sight  of  a  dim  candlelight  gave  highlights  to  the  man’s   skin.  I  could  see  it  was  a  kind  of  yellow  with  a  hint  of   darkness,   like   a   mild   tan.   It   was   clear   he   wasn’t   from   these   lands.   My   window   sat   directly   over   the   front   door   of   our   home,   and   my   father   no   doubt   heard   the   man.
“Ooo  goes  there?”  I  could  hear  the  sound  of  my   father’s  half  asleep  voice  asks  as  the  man  took  a  couple   of   steps   back.   I   quickly   shut   the   doors   to   my   window   in  the  hopes  not  to  get  the  stranger  into  trouble.  From   outside   I   could   hear   the   conversation   between   my   father,  who  was  in  one  of  his  rare  sober  states,  and  the   stranger.
“Forgive  me  if  I  have  disrupted  your  rest.  I  was   wonder-‐”
“Ooo  are  ya,  boy?”
“Please,   before   you   send   me   away   from   your   town,  I  do  not  carry  the  black  death.  All  I  wanted  was   to  find  a  place  before  dawn  crept  upon  me.  That  is  all.”       The   seconds   of   silence   seemed   like   an   eternity   to  me.  I  could  envision  my  father  standing  there  in  his   night  ware,  one  arm  placed  on  the  door  and  the  other   on  part  of  the  doorway,  looking  at  this  stranger  as  the   flickering  candle’s  light  shown  behind  him,  giving  him   an  angelic  glow,  although  an  angel  was  far  from  what   my   father   was.   I   bet   my   father   was   standing   there   trying  to  size  him  up,  seeing  if  he  was  telling  the  truth.   When   my   father   was   actually   sober   enough   to   communicate   with   others   in   a   normal   fashion   he   was   quite  civil.
“Arn   ta   many   places   aron’   ere   ta   stay   for   sheltah,  boy.  ‘Cept  for  the  empty  homes  of  those  who   had  tha  illness.  Sign  yer  own  death  warrant  goin’  inta   one  of  those  places.”
I  peeked  through  the  doors  of  my  window  once   again  to  see  the  stranger  nod  in  agreement.
“I  see.  Thank  you  for  your  help  anyway.”       “Be  careful,  boy,  bad  times  ta  be  wanderin  out.”       “Yes,  sir.”
“Nite  ta  ya,  boy.”
With  that,  the  glow  of  the  candlelight  vanished   and  again  the  moonlight  bathed  him  in  its  beam.  The   stranger  would  vanish  also,  but  not  before  looking  up   at   my   window   once   more   before   he   disappeared   into   the   hills   just   outside   of   town.   The   next   night   I   sat   in   the   darkness   of   my   room,   half   hoping   to   see   the   stranger  again,  and  to  my  astonishment,  he  appeared.   It  was  a  cool  October  night  out,  and  again  the  sky  was   decorated  with  stars  that  danced  above  so  beautifully.   Again   I   found   him   right   beneath   my   window   looking   up  at  me  with  a  smile.  This  time  he  was  hesitant  to  say   anything.   He   was   smart   enough   not   to   test   his   luck   with   my   father.   He   motioned   with   his   hand   that   he’ll   be   right   outside   of   town,   amongst   the   trees   and   hills,   and  then  he  left.

I  can’t  tell  you  what  possessed  me  to  go  to  him.   Amidst   the   madness   that   was   happening   all   around   me,   I   quietly   and   carefully   stepped   out   from   my   window  and  followed  a  narrow  path  on  the  roof  from   it.   When   I   found   a   suitable   location   where   I   knew   I   could   do   no   damage,   I   jumped,   landing   easier   than   I   expected.   I   ran   through   the   night,   my   mind   racing   with  fears  of  the  illness,  imagining  it  like  some  sort  of   demon   on   my   trail   following   me   into   the   forest,   and   he,   my   only   hope   of   salvation   from   it.   I   ran   through   the   town   in   my   little   rags   of   a   dress   and   shoes   that   were  falling  off  of  me  as  the  sounds  of  my  racing  steps   echoed  throughout  the  empty  streets  and  roads.  I  ran   into   the   forest,   my   heart   pounding   against   my   chest   feeling   as   if   it   would   explode.   I   had   no   idea   where   I   was  going,  just  thinking  and  hoping  he  would  hear  me   approaching.
The  forest  is  a  truly  terrifying  place  to  be  in  the   dead   of   night,   running   like   a   mad   woman,   the   sound   of  my  feet  gliding  over  the  fallen  and  dead  leaves  only   adding  to  my  fear,  towards  a  man  I  didn’t  really  know.   Small  beams  of  moonlight  cascaded  through  the  trees   from   above,   giving   false   specters   and   images   of   demons   and   all   things   evil   that   made   my   heart   race   even   more.   The   forest   seemed   to   be   alive   as   the   branches  of  the  trees  extended  out  in  front  of  me,  and   I   was   sure   one   would   reach   out   and   grab   me,   pulling   me  into  the  dreaded  abyss  of  some  underworld  where   I  would  be  tormented  for  all  eternity.  Then  something   did   reach   out   and   grab   me,   and   I   began   to   scream,   louder  than  I  thought  capable.  Barely  a  second  passed   before  I  felt  a  hand  on  my  mouth  muting  my  scream.       “Shhhhh!  It’s  alright,”  He  said  to  me.       I  recognized  the  voice.  It  was  the  stranger.       “I’m  not  going  to  hurt  you.  Promise  you’ll  stop   screaming?”
I   nodded   yes   as   I   felt   my   heart   pounding   hard   enough   that   I   was   sure   he   could   hear   it.   He   slowly   moved   his   hand   from   my   mouth   and   let   go   of   me.   I   was  winded  and  tired.  Hunched  over,  trying  to  regain   my  breath,  my  eyes  locked  with  the  earth  of  the  forest   as  I  placed  my  hands  on  my  knees.
“Are   you   okay?”   the   words   from   him   floated   over  me  along  with  everything  else  at  that  moment  as   half  of  me  hung  low  to  the  ground.  That  accent  of  his,   where   was   he   from?   Finally   getting   some   wind   back   into  my  lungs,  I  stood  upright  again.
“Where  are  ya  from?”  I  asked  him.
Through   the   trees   peered   the   light   from   the   moon,  hitting  his  face  dead  on.  A  beautiful  face  made   even  more  beautiful  from  the  luminescent  glow  of  the   light.   His   features   were   prominent   but   at   the   same   time   not   overbearing.   He   couldn’t   have   been   much   older   than   me.   Not   much   older   than   twenty-‐two   or   twenty-‐three,   at   the   most.   He   had   dark   eyes   that   sparkled   in   the   light   while   his   black   hair   went   to   his   shoulders,  pulled  back  in  a  ponytail.  He  smiled  at  me   with   a   little   laugh.   His   smile   was   a   perfect   match   for   the  rest  of  his  face;  a  charming  and  hypnotic  smile  that   added  to  his  features.
“I’m  from  many  places.  I’ve  seen  many  things,”   he  said.
That  I  believed  as  it  sounded  like  his  accent  was   a  mixture  of  many  cultures.
“My  name  is  Mical.”
I   nodded,   finally   getting   most   of   my   energy   back   to   me.   “My   name   is   Lilith,”   I   said   to   him.   He   cocked  his  head,  a  kind  of  wonderment  set  in  his  eyes   as  a  thin-‐lipped  grin  slowly  formed  on  his  face.       “It’s  nice  to  meet  you,  Lilith.  Honestly,  I  didn’t   think  you  would  come.”
“Neither  did  I.”  Neither  of  us  knew  what  else  to   say  for  neither  knew  that  the  other  would  go  this  far.   It  was  crazy.  We  were  crazy.  Surrounded  in  the  forest   by  the  night  and  all  it  hid  from  us,  seemingly  unaware   of   what   was   happening   around   the   land.   Not   really   caring,  just  being.
“Lilith.”   He   repeated   my   name   in   a   melodic   tone.  Every  letter  of  my  name  coming  off  his  tongue  in   a   whisper   that   gave   me   chills   down   my   back.   I   stood   there,   breathless   once   again,   searching   for   something   to  say.  Searching  to  find  some  logic  in  this.  How  did  I   know   he   wasn’t   lying   to   me   about   not   carrying   the   illness?   How   did   I   know   he   would   not   rape   then   kill   me  outright?  Soon  my  fears  would  be  put  to  rest.
We   walked   along   the   hills,   and   through   the   countryside,   through   the   blades   of   dying   grass   that   had  started  to  brown,  showing  that  winter  was  quickly   approaching.   A   cool   wind   blew,   soothing   and   soft,   carrying   with   it   the   wonderful   smell   of   fall   air   in   Manchester.  It  was  crisp  with  just  a  hint  of  sweetness   while   you   could   hear   it   whistle   through   the   trees   in   the  distance.  We  talked  as  if  we  had  known  each  other   all   our   lives.   I   listened   to   him   tell   of   where   all   he’s   been   and   what   he   did.   How   he   came   about   here.   Indeed   he   had   sought   refuge   from   the   sights   and   sounds   of   the   black   death.   He   told   me   terrifying   stories  of  crates  full  of  bodies  being  rolled  away  to  be   placed  into  large  pits.  Mass,  unmarked  graves  were  to   be   their   final   resting   place,   for   the   church   yard   cemeteries   had   been   filled.   Tales   of   how   the   dead’s   houses  were  left  opened,  all  their  valuables  left  for  the   taking   and   none   daring   to   go   near   the   residence   for   fear  they  would  catch  the  illness  also.  How  the  dead’s   homes  were  marked  in  black  letters  on  their  doors  to   let  it  be  known  that  one  who  had  the  plague  perished   there.  Manchester  was  hit  hard,  but  not  nearly  as  hard   as   London   according   to   Mical.   You   could   hear   the   monotone  chill  in  his  voice  in  describing  what  he  saw.   When   I   asked   him   how   could   he   have   seen   all   that,   experienced  it  all  and  not  come  down  with  the  illness   himself,   he   hesitated   as   his   eyes   dropped   to   the   ground,   only   stating   it   was   by   luck.   As   dawn   drew   near,  he  brought  an  end  to  our  talk.  But  he  promised   we  would  meet  again  the  next  night.  I  left  him  within   the   forest,   unsure   of   exactly   how   he   lived   there,   or   where  he  slept.
My   feet   touched   the   dirt   roads   that   made   up   the  streets  of  Manchester  as  the  sun’s  first  rays  peered   from   over   the   horizon.   A   beautiful   array   of   colors.   Starting  with  the  fading  blackness  of  night  giving  way   to   a   dark   blue   that   turned   into   a   softer,   lighter   blue.   The  colors  changed  as  if  they  had  been  shown  through   a   giant   prism   as   a   light   pink   gradually   turned   into   a   red  and  finally  the  yellow  of  the  sun  itself.  Before  the   monster   took   hold   of   the   town,   the   streets   would   be   full   of   people   by   this   time.   But   now   most   were   either   holed  up  in  their  homes  or  dead  or  had  moved  away.
I  couldn’t  remember  the  last  time  I  felt  so  small   at  the  site  of  the  size  of  the  town.  The  sound  of  my  feet   beating  against  the  earth  floor  kept  me  company  while   I  felt  the  warmth  of  the  new  day’s  sunlight  lay  on  my   golden   curls.   I   was   only   a   few   yards   from   my   home   when  I  heard  something.  A  door  I  was  walking  passed   was  open.  I  stopped  and  listened.  There  it  was  again.  I   didn’t   move   as   I   shifted   the   focus   of   my   eyes   entirely   on   the   door   ahead   of   me,   and   within   it,   blackness   peered  out  at  me.
I   felt   my   heart   start   to   race   as   I   stepped   away.   When  I  did,  the  sound  was  clear  to  me.  It  was  that  of   someone  coughing  and  it  was  actually  coming  from  in   front  of  me.  Something  inside  me  told  me  to  just  run.  I   should’ve   listened.   God,   why   didn’t   I   listen?   I   turned   my  head  and  picked  up  my  pace  when  a  man  appeared   in   front   of   me.   He   had   left   his   house,   plague-‐ridden,   looking  for  help  only  to  find  the  cold,  cruel  reality  that   there   was   none   for   him.   He   reached   for   me,   only   landing  a  finger  on  the  sleeve  of  my  rags.  The  man  had   blackish   sores   all   over   his   arms   and   his   face   red,   swollen  and  pus-‐ridden.  My  eyes  grew  wide  with  terror   realizing  what  had  happened  to  him.  I  dodged  and  ran   away   from   the   man   toward   home,   not   looking   back.   All   the   while   I   could   hear   the   sound   of   his   weakened   voice,  “Help  me!  Please,  help  me!”
As   I   ran   to   my   house,   I   tore   at   the   part   of   my   sleeve   the   man   had   reached   for   and   threw   it   to   the   ground.   I   bursts   through   the   door   in   a   fright   and   rushed  inside  where  I  could  see  my  parents  still  asleep   in  their  makeshift  bed  placed  on  the  floor  of  the  home.   When   I   entered   the   house   I   was   half   panicked   but   tried   to   mask   it.   I   stood   in   the   doorway   with   the   morning’s   rays   gliding   past   me   and   filling   the   darkened   house.   My   racing   heart   returned   to   normal,   and   with   the   fear   subsiding,   I   quietly   shut   the   door   and   ran   up   to   my   room,   somehow   not   managing   to   wake   my   parents   in   the   process.   Once   there   I   fell   to   my   bed,   still   a   little   scared   at   what   happened,   but   I   thought   for   sure   there   was   no   way   he   could've   given   me   what   he   had.   I   turned   over   onto   my   back   and   watched  the  tiny  beams  of  sunlight  sneak  through  the   shutters   of   the   doors   on   my   window   and   paint   the   ceiling  of  my  room  a  golden  white  while  I  thought  of   the  night  before,  about  Mical  and  what  would  happen   the  coming  night.

I   awoke   later   on   in   the   day   when   the   sun   had   begun  its  decent  past  the  horizon,  beckoning  the  night   to   come.   Downstairs   I   could   hear   my   mother   and   father  talking.  Talking  like  they  once  did  when  I  was  a   child,   where   the   conversations   sounded   somewhat   normal.   Not   just   my   mother   talking   and   my   father   responding   with   grunts   and   incoherent   speech,   but   actually   going   back   and   forth   with   each   other.   Rubbing   my   eyes   as   I   sat   up   to   open   the   doors   of   my   window,   I   felt   a   slight   tickle   in   my   nose.   I   paid   no   attention   to   it,   giving   it   a   light   rub   as   I   gazed   on   the   sun  setting,  seeing  almost  the  exact  colors  I  saw  from   the  sunrise.  A  sneeze  left  me.  Followed  by  another  and   another  in  a  rapid  succession.  Not  only  that  but  I  felt   something  beneath  the  pits  of  my  arms.
“NO,”   I   thought   aloud.   It   couldn’t   be.   It   just   couldn’t   be.   He   had   barely   laid   a   finger   on   me.   I   started  to  shake  uncontrollably  with  fear,  reaching  my   hand   into   the   pit   of   my   arm   hoping   and   praying   I   wouldn’t  find  what  I  had  feared.
But  I  did.  I  felt  it  lined  beneath  the  skin.  A  lump   raised,  feeling  swollen  beyond  fathom,  and  no  sooner   did   I   find   it   did   the   headaches   come,   followed   by   another   sneezing   fit.   Silence   is   all   that   came   from   downstairs   now.   They   had   heard   me.   My   breath   quickened   and   my   heart   filled   with   fright   when   I   realized  that  I  had  become  infected.  I  felt  the  warmth   of  my  tears  run  down  my  face  before  I  knew  I  had  even   started  to  cry.  I  sat  in  my  bed  with  my  head  buried  in   my  hands  drenched  in  tears  from  my  sobbing.  If  I  had   only  stayed  here.  If  only  the  stranger  didn’t  show.  The   familiar   pounding   of   my   father’s   footsteps   echoed   up   the   corridor   to   my   room   and   I   quickly   threw   myself   beneath   the   cover   of   my   bed   with   just   the   top   of   my   head   peeking   out,   fearing   that   he   would   see   the   sickness.  The  door  swung  open  so  quickly  that  I  could   feel  the  wind  from  it  pass  over  my  head.
“Are  ya  okay,  Lilith?”
I   could   feel   his   eyes   on   me,   feeling   them   as   if   they   could   pierce   the   covers   that   hid   me   as   he   asked   the   question.   I   wiped   off   the   tears   and   tried   to   find   some  composure  in  my  voice  before  answering  him.       “Yes,  yes  father.  Just  tired.”
“Ya  ave  been  up  ere  all  day,  girl.”
“I   know,   father,   but   I’ve   only   slept   little   more   than  a  few  hours  of  it.  Please,  lemme  get  some  sleep.”       From   beneath   the   covers   I   heard   the   sound   of   his   breathing,   knowing   he   was   putting   his   mind   to   work   trying   to   figure   out   whether   I   was   telling   the   truth  or  not.
Beneath  the  covers  I  could  feel  those  eyes  of  his  trying   their  best  to  pierce  the  covers  I  lay  under.
“So  be  it,  girl.”
The   door   shut   slower   and   silently.   I   lay   there   trembling  for  my  life,  unsure  of  what  to  do,  unsure  of   where   to   go.   I   stayed   there   beneath   those   covers   for   hours,  still  unmoving  like  a  statue.  I  had  no  idea  how   much   time   had   passed,   but   I   knew   that   night   had   finally  fallen  on  Manchester.  I  heard  Mical’s  voice  from   outside,   whispering   up   to   me.   I   stayed   a   statue,   sure   the   more   I   moved   the   worse   it   would   get.   He   was   persistent  but  finally  he  went  on  and  I  was  left  in  the   darkness   of   my   room   again,   alone   and   terrified.   I   drifted   into   sleep   and   awoke   the   next   morning   to   a   strange   taste   in   my   throat.   I   sat   up   coughing   harder   than   I   could   ever   remember.   On   my   fifth   cough   is   when   I   felt   and   seen   a   small   pool   of   blood   leave   my   mouth.  It  fell  in  my  lap,  soaking  the  cover  of  my  bed,   painting  it  the  color  of  death  as  I  sat  there  wide-‐eyed   and   in   shock.   I   just   stared   at   it   feeling   a   long   line   of   blood  course  down  my  jaw.
“Hon,   hon,   are   ye   alight?”   it   was   my   mother.   Her  Irish  accent  filled  with  worry  behind  my  door.  “Do   ye  na  hear  me?  Lilith??”
I   didn’t   respond.   I   didn’t   even   look   up   at   my   door.   I   just   stared   at   the   blood   on   my   covers.   Soon   I   felt  another  cough  coming  and  as  it  started  my  mother   opened  the  door.  She  caught  sight  of  me  in  time  to  see   me   cough   up   more   blood   onto   the   floor   of   my   room.   My   mother   saw   this   and   backed   away   from   me.   She   clutched  the  crucifix  around  her  neck  in  a  vice  grip  as   she  drew  in  a  shocked  breath.  Her  eyes  were  wide  with   horror  and  confusion  as  her  face  turned  as  pale  as  the   walls  around  me,  like  the  blood  had  drained  from  her   in  an  instant.  All  she  did  was  shake  her  head  no  while   her  lips  trembled  with  a  sadness  and  fright  I  had  never   seen  from  her.
She  nearly  fell  back  down  the  stairs  in  her  rush   to   turn   and   run   from   me.   I   was   half   out   of   my   bed,   hunched   over   onto   the   floor,   lines   of   blood   and   spit   running   from   my   mouth   and   pooling   on   the   floor   while   it   felt   like   my   muscles   were   beginning   to   burn.   My   arms   were   littered   with   black   marks   that   weren’t   there   the   day   before   while   I   could   feel   my   neck   and   parts  of  my  legs  and  face  swell.  Soon  my  father  rushed   up   the   stairs   and   saw   the   sight,   the   sad   sight   I   now   was.  And  like  my  mother,  he  shook  his  head  also,  but   unlike  my  mother,  he  began  to  curse  and  scream.  His   voice   boomed   with   anger,   telling   me   to   leave   and   remove   myself,   and   the   illness   I   carried,   away   from   him  and  his  wife.  I  tried  to  raise  myself  up  and  talk  to   him.  More  now  than  ever  I  needed  him.  I  needed  them   both,  but  I  could  barely  stand.  And  when  I  finally  did   try  to  take  a  step  toward  him,  that’s  when  I  heard  and   saw   the   overwhelming   fear   he   had   harbored   for   me   then.  He  screamed  for  me  not  to  come  near  him  as  he   backed   away.   That’s   when   I   realized   that   I   was   no   longer   his   daughter,   but   the   specter   of   death   incarnate,  come  to  drag  him  into  the  unknown.  Still  in   shock,  and  barely  alive,  I  left.
As   I   walked   out   the   door   of   my   home   for   the   last   time   I   could   see   my   mother   standing   in   the   farthest   corner   of   the   house,   crying   as   my   father   continued   the   verbal   assault   upon   me.   I   stepped   into   the   outside   afternoon,   and   not   three   steps   out   of   the   house   did   the   door   to   my   home,   to   my   family,   to   the   life   I   had   known,   close   forever   to   me.   A   thunderous   slamming   hard   enough   to   make   you   think   the   home   would   crumble   to   its   foundation   from   it.   The   streets   were   bare   and   the   wind   blew   up   the   dirt   around   me.   The   town   smelt   of   emptiness   and   blood…my   blood.   I   had  become  drenched  in  it  as  I  started  to  vomit  it  up,   raining  the  red  life  within  me  onto  the  ground,  on  me,   and   my   rags   of   clothes.   As   I   left   I   felt   the   eyes   of   the   remaining   residence   there   on   me.   Felt   their   eyes   on   me,  searing  my  flesh  with  the  looks  of  fear  and  hatred.     Somehow,  I  had  made  it  just  outside  the  forest.   I  had  no  idea  why,  but  I  thought  Mical  would  be  able   to  help  me.  But  I  knew  then  that  there  was  no  one  to   help   me.   I   had   vomited   more   blood,   most   of   which   now   covered   my   clothes   and   body,   on   the   way   there   and   was   sure   I   was   a   ghostly   pale.   A   dead   being,   not   realizing  she’s  dead  yet.  Finally  I  dropped  face  first  to   the  earth,  the  impact  engulfing  me  in  a  small  cloud  of   dust.   How   fitting.   My   body   was   done,   and   I   could   go   no  further.  Hard  breaths  led  to  me  coughing  up  what   little   blood   I   had   left   until   it   formed   a   crimson   trail   from   my   mouth   to   a   small   rock   a   few   feet   away   from   me.  This  was  it.  I  was  dead  and  was  ready  for  death  to   take  me.

I   awakened   to   find   a   line   of   ants   swimming   in   the   trail   of   blood   I   had   coughed   up.   Some   had   even   taken   up   habitation   in   mouth.   I   just   had   enough   energy  to  cough  them  out,  but  to  my  surprise  no  blood   had   come   out   with   them.   It   was   night   again.   I   had   actually   made   it   into   night.   But   it   was   a   cloudy   night   and   no   moon   was   in   sight.   Many   sounds   came   from   within   the   forest   that   I   lay   just   at   the   edge   of.   Any   minute  I  expected  some  animal  to  appear  from  it  and   deliver   me   from   this   peril.   I   closed   my   eyes   and   awaited   my   end.   What   came   for   me   wasn’t   death,   instead,  I  felt  cold  hands  grip  me  and  a  familiar  voice   ask   what   had   happened.   It   was   Mical.   I   found   myself   rising   from   the   ground,   and   for   a   brief   moment,   thought  it  was  my  soul  climbing  to  heaven,  the  angels   relieving  me  of  my  pain.
Then  I  realized  it  wasn’t  angels  or  the  hands  of   God   guiding   me   towards   eternity,   but   Mical’s   hands   lifting  me  from  off  the  ground.  I  was  barely  conscious   as  he  carried  me  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  forest.  We   came   to   a   small   cave   that   went   in   far.   Inside   I   could   hear  the  faint  echoes  of  water  droplets  play  a  soothing   song  as  he  laid  me  down  onto  the  stone  floor  and  held   my   head   in   his   hands.   He   was   talking   but   now   the   words   as   well   as   everything   else   were   all   a   mumble   that  grew  fainter  and  fainter.  I  was  in  the  final  stages   of  the  illness  and  everything  around  me  was  starting  to   fall   away.   He   leaned   into   me   and   placed   his   lips   on   mine.  I  felt  him  jerk  and  within  seconds  I  tasted  blood   in   my   mouth   again.   But   this   time   the   blood   wasn’t   mine   it   was   his.   He   pulled   away   from   me   with   pain   evident  on  his  face  as  blood  trickled  down  his  bottom   lip.   That’s   when   I   felt   it.   Almost   instantly   I   felt   a   sensation   unlike   any   I   had   felt   before.   My   muscles   began   to   tingle   and   my   chest   began   to   freeze.   I   was   paralyzed   with   a   frighteningly   amazing   feeling   inside   me.   Then   the   feeling   was   gone   along   with   everything   else.  I  had  no  sensation  of  touch  or  smell.  But  I  could   still  see  and  now  more  clearly  hear.
All   the   pain   I   had   was   gone.   No   headaches   or   muscles   feeling   like   they   were   on   fire   inside   me.   Nothing.  I  lay  as  still  as  the  dead,  suspended  in  time  it   seemed.   Then   I   heard   myself   exhale,   take   in   a   breath   and   exhale   once   more.   I   realized   that   I   had   stopped   breathing   during   all   of   this.   But   now   I   could   feel   the   air  in  my  lungs  as  a  coldness  swept  over  my  body  like   the   wind   from   a   December’s   night.   All   at   once   my   feeling   and   ability   to   move   returned,   and   I   slowly   turned   my   head   to   Mical.   The   look   in   his   eyes,   I’ll   never  forget  that  look.  His  eyes  reflected  the  confusion   and   utter   amazement   at   what   happened,   as   if   he   hadn’t   planned   for   this   to   happen.   But   what   did   happen?  Why  did  he  have  that  look  in  his  eyes?  What   did   he   do   to   relieve   me   of   the   pain?   Slowly   I   turned   onto  my  side,  lifting  myself  up  to  sit.  Every  part  of  my   body   shook   uncontrollably,   as   if   someone   had   placed   me   within   a   giant   ball   and   bounced   me   off   the   walls.   My  hands  trembled  as  I  ran  them  through  my  hair  and   when   I   brought   them   out,   that’s   when   I   noticed   the   black   marks   and   lumps   that   had   formed   on   my   body   had  vanished  as  if  they  were  never  there.  My  face  and   legs   were   as   they   were   before   as   the   swelling   had   vanished.  I  didn’t  know  what  to  make  of  it.
I  could  see  that  he  saw  it  in  my  eyes,  the  terror   of  it  all,  the  unknown  of  what  happened.  I  looked  over   my  body  and  found  no  signs  of  the  illness.  I  placed  my   hands  in  the  pits  of  my  arms  to  find  no  lumps  and  felt   my   energy   return.   I   was   dead.   I   should’ve   died.   But   I   hadn’t,  and  at  the  same  time...I  had.

Chapter 3

I  sat  at  the  mouth  of  the  cave  listening;  from  off   in   the   distance   the   sound   of   thunder   echoed   some   untold  miles  away.  The  wind  blew  harder,  bringing  the   leaves   alive   into   twisting   and   turning   motions   while   the  branches  they  were  attached  to  swayed  in  the  dark   night.  I  sat  there  with  my  hands  folded  in  my  lap,  still   trembling,  listening  to  everything  that  surrounded  me,   the  sounds  as  clear  as  I’ve  ever  heard  them  before.  My   sight   was   better   than   I   could   remember.   I   peered   through   the   darkness,   passed   the   trees   and   into   what   seemed  infinity,  and  I  sat  quietly,  trying  to  make  sense   of  it  all.  Behind  me,  Mical  hadn’t  moved  from  his  spot,   still  kneeling  on  the  dirty  cave  floor  looking  at  where  I   had  lain.  His  eyes  seemed  locked  into  position  there  as   if   he   couldn’t   move   them.   I   don’t   know   how   long   either   us   stayed   in   our   collective   spots   of   the   cave,   time  seem  to  stand  still.  There  was  so  much  more  now,   more  for  me  to  understand  and  see,  although  I  had  no   idea  of  any  of  this  yet.
As   the   first   drops   of   rain   came,   I   backed   into   the   cave   slightly   while   wrapping   my   arms   around   myself.   I   began   to   rock   back   and   forth,   humming   something   I   can’t   quite   remember   now.   I   do   know   it   was   something   my   mother   sang   to   me   as   a   child   whenever   I   swore   something   in   the   darkness   of   my   room  was  sure  to  take  me  into  the  night.  It  calmed  me   from   fright   then,   but   not   now.   I   was   scared,   more   scared   than   I   could   ever   remember.   That’s   when   I   noticed  it.  For  all  my  fright,  there  was  no  pounding  in   my   chest.   I   gasped   and   shot   to   my   feet   placing   my   hands  all  over  my  chest  trying  to  find  something  that   resembled  a  heartbeat.

“Where  is  it?”  I  said  aloud.  Finally  Mical  spoke   to   me.   And   the   sound   of   his   voice,   the   calm   and   sadness   within   it   when   he   explained   to   me   what   happened  still  haunts  me  to  this  day.

He  told  me  what  he  was  a  Vampire.  A  creature  I   had  heard  of  when  I  was  a  child,  but  never  had  I  dared   think  actually  existed.  But  here  he  was,  as  real  as  day,   as   real...as   me.   Slowly   he   got   to   his   feet   and   stepped   towards   me,   and   I,   still   trembling,   mind   racing  trying   to   understand   and   comprehend   what   has   happened,   just   stood   there   and   shook   from   the   cold.   He  told  me  he  was  the  first  of  his  kind  and  how  long   he   had   lived.   He   told   me   these   things   slowly,   the   words  seemingly  crawling  out  of  his  mouth  at  a  snail’s   pace.   He   placed   his   hands   on   my   chest   and   the   cold   from  them  shot  chills  through  my  entire  body.       “Your  heart  does  not  beat  for  it  is  dead.  For  you   are  dead,  Lilith.  You  shall  never  know  the  touch  of  old   age.  As  you  are  now,  you  shall  be  for  always.  But  along   with  that,  you  will  never  know  a  day  that  isn’t  made  up   of  the  night.  The  sun’s  light  shall  never  grace  your  face   again   for   the   sun   is   the   one   thing   that   can   truly   kill   you.  If  you’re  ever  caught  out  in  it,  you  will  die.  Also-‐”       I  didn’t  let  him  finish.  My  fear  had  fled  from  me   and   fury   filled   my   soul.   Anger   took   the   place   of   the   fear   I   had.   I   still   trembled   now,   but   not   from   cold   or   fear,   but   from   pure,   unimaginable   hatred   at   what   he   had  done  to  me.  This  was  his  plan  all  along,  I  thought   to  myself.
“Why?   Why   did   you   make   me   like   this?   Why   didn’t  you  just  let  me  die?”
“Lilith,  I  didn’t  try  to  make  you  like  this.”       “Liar!   You   made   me   like   you   on   purpose!   That   was   always   your   plan!   To   make   me   a   monster   like   you!”
He  reached  out  his  hand  to  me,  and  on  his  face   although,  I  was  too  angry  to  see  then,  looking  back,  I   saw  it  all.  He  so  wanted  to  help  me,  to  show  me,  teach   me  all  that  I  needed  to  know,  but  most  importantly  he   never  intended  for  me  to  be  as  I  was.
“Lilith  please-‐”
“How   many   others,”   I   screamed.   If   the   rain   hadn’t  poured  down  so  hard,  I’m  sure  my  voice  would   have   carried   clear   to   the   outskirts   of   Manchester.   “HOW  MANY?  How  many  have  you  made  like  me?”

He  lowered  his  hand  and  dropped  his  eyes.  His   face   became   still,   statuesque,   losing   all   emotion.   The   booming   of   thunder   from   the   storm   hung   over   the   both  of  us.
“Well?”
He  raised  his  eyes  so  slowly,  as  if  they  were  two   huge  stones  set  within  his  head.  He  looked  at  me,  and   in  a  deadened  voice  he  spoke  one  word.  The  answer  I   couldn’t   and   wouldn’t   believe   for   centuries   after,   but   have  since  come  to  accept,  “None.”
I   can’t   tell   you   exactly   what   I   thought   at   that   moment.  Honestly  I  can’t  tell  you  if  I  even  thought  at   that   moment.   I   do   remember   laughing.   Laughing   hysterically,   perhaps   the   only   emotion   to   which   to   comfort  myself  with.
“You’re   a   monster,”   I   said   to   him,   the   hateful   sting  in  my  voice  did  its  job,  striking  him  in  his  dead   heart.   It   may   not   have   beaten,   but   he   could   still   feel   with  it.  “You’re  a  monster  and  you’ve  cursed  me  to  be   one  also!”  I  laughed  again  as  I  backed  away  from  him   before   turning   and   running   to   the   outside   where   the   storm  waited  for  me  to  enter  into  it.  I  laughed,  a  mad   cackle   of   a   laugh   for   no   reason   other   than   that’s   all   I   felt  at  the  moment.  I  ran  away  from  his  pleas  for  me  to   return  and  not  go  into  the  storm.  Running  away  from   his  words  as  if  they  were  chasing  me,  I  ran  and  left  him   behind.  It  would  be  centuries  before  I  ever  saw  Mical   again.   I   ran   through   that   terrible   night,   away   from   him,   through   the   rain   that   poured   down   upon   me,   seemingly  washing  away  my  mortality,  baptizing  me  in   the  new  life  I  was  about  to  undertake.

I   ran   into   the   unknown   not   having   an   idea   where  I  was  going,  just  running.  I  had  no  sense  of  how   long  I  ran,  but  I  had  come  upon  a  village,  abandoned   or   the   inhabitants   of   it   long   since   succumbed   to   the   plague.  As  the  storms  faded  and  dawn  began  to  break,   I   found   myself   wandering   the   quiet   streets   looking   into  homes  seeing  if  there  were  any  signs  of  life  only  to   find  none.  I  crept  inside  of  an  old,  broken  down  home   where   cracks   lined   the   roof   and   the   floors   creaked   with   every   step   I   took.   The   cool   fall   winds   blew   strongly   through   the   place,   cold   drafts   keeping   me   company   within   the   broken   down   place,   as   the   gray   dawn   finally   appeared.   In   a   darkened   corner   I   knelt   and   eventually   fell   to   the   floor.   I   lay   curled   in   a   ball   with   my   legs   pressed   against   my   chest   and   arms   holding  them  there  with  only  the  soaked,  bloodstained   rags  of  my  clothes  to  keep  me  warm.  Throughout  the   day  I  faded  in  and  out  of  consciousness,  every  now  and   then  awakening  to  the  sound  of  rain  outside  and  small   droplets   sprinkling   my   face   through   the   cracks   of   the   roof   above   me.   How   soothing   the   sounds   of   the   raindrops  were  to  me.
They   seemed   to   be   the   one   thing   that   hadn’t   changed   in   the   course   of   a   night.   In   some   way   they   seemed   to   tie   me   to   the   life   I   had   known   only   a   few   days  before.  Now  I  didn’t  know  what  lay  ahead  of  me.  I   awoke   in   time   for   the   beginning   of   nightfall.   As   the   skies  darkened  and  the  rains  ceased  I  rose  to  my  feet.   My   legs   shook   beneath   me,   wobbling   as   if   they   had   become   rubber   as   I   shivered   with   cold.   I   was   cold,   tired  and  dirty.  The  stench  of  my  own  blood  still  filled   the   air.   As   quietly   as   I   had   crept   in,   I   crept   out.   No   reason   to   be   so   quiet   honestly,   not   as   if   I   was   disturbing  anyone.
But  quiet  I  was  as  I  stepped  bare  feet  onto  the   muddy  ground,  my  shoes  had  since  fallen  apart  on  me.   Feeling   the   earth   parting   beneath   my   feet   and   the   sound   of   it   squashing   between   my   toes   brought   a   slight   smile   to   my   face   and   for   a   second   I   had   forgot   my   problems.   Soon   my   stomach   would   remind   me   of   those   problems   again.   I   walked   on.   Leaving   the   small   village   behind   me,   venturing   into   the   countryside   where  the  mud  eventually  turned  to  wet  grass.  As  the   night   went   on   I   found   the   mists   of   a   light   fog   surrounding   me   as   a   sprinkle   of   rain   proceeded   to   accompany   me   on   my   journey   to   lands   unknown   to   me.  My  legs  were  ready  to  give  out  when  I  finally  came   to   another   village,   a   village   that   seemed   to   actually   have   people   living   there.   Perhaps   the   plague   hadn’t   made   its   way   there   yet?   No   doubt   as   soon   as   the   people  there  saw  me  in  the  state  I  was  in  they’ll  as  sure   drive   me   out   if   not   stone   me   on   sight.   I’d   have   to   be   careful  and  use  the  mists  to  my  advantage.
Carefully   I   made   my   way   into   the   village.   A   sleepy  little  place  it  was,  a  bit  claustrophobic  where  it   seemed   all   the   homes   were   packed   tightly   together   and   what   streets   there   were   had   been   very   narrow,   hardly   any   room   to   pass   a   horse   with   a   carriage   through.   Clearly   the   people   were   fast   to   bed   for   most   of   the   candles   were   now   dormant   in   their   windows,   although,  from  a  few  homes  you  could  still  see  the  soft   golden   light   flicker   quietly   in   the   misted   night.   From   one   of   those   windows   I   saw   my   chance   at   something   more  than  the  blood  covered  rags  I  had  been  wearing.   Quiet   as   could   be,   I   made   my   way   to   the   window,   hunched   over,   hanging   low   to   the   ground.   Too   low,   actually,  as  bits  of  mud  kicked  up  from  my  feet  landed   here  and  there  on  my  face.  Nevertheless,  I  went  on  to   the  bottom  of  the  mouth  of  the  window  and  listened.   No  sound  from  what  I  could  hear.  I  looked  behind  me   and   then   ahead   of   me   before   I   finally   started   up.   The   light   from   the   candle   painted   the   top   of   a   dirt-‐filled   blonde  head  revealing  it  clearly  to  anyone  who  might   be  in  that  very  room  I  was  about  to  look  in.  I  looked  in   and   saw   a   lone   candle   setting   on   a   table   in   a   small   room  big  enough  for  maybe  two  people.
It   was   a   small   table   where   various   tools,   from   scissors,   to   cloth   to   stitching   needles   lay.   Whoever   it   was  apparently  made  a  living  or  had  made  a  living  off   of   fashioning   clothes   for   people.   In   the   light   I   could   see  it  there.  It  looked  to  be  made  of  some  of  the  same   material  as  my  clothes;  a  soft  red  color  adorned  it  and   was  a  perfect  match  for  me.

The  shadows  jumped  from  the  dancing  flame  of   the   candle,   giving   the   illusion   that   the   objects   were   alive   and   moving   on   the   walls.   This   made   me   very   nervous  for  I  knew  any  one  of  those  shadows  could  be   an   actual   person.   Taking   in   a   deep   breath,   and   using   what  strength  I  had  left  in  my  legs,  I  leapt  up  and  in.   My  feet  hit  the  floor  with  all  the  sound  of  a  whisper.  I   was   nervous,   my   throat   dry   and   palms   that   should’ve   been   sweaty   were   cold   as   ice.   That’s   when   I   noticed   again   the   lack   of   an   excited   beating   of   my   heart.   The   reminder  of  what  I  was,  right  there  kicking  me  in  my   head   again.   I   fought   back   that   feeling   and   moved   forward   toward   the   dress.   The   table   couldn’t   have   been   more   than   three   or   four   steps   ahead,   but   it   seemed   to   take   an   eternity   for   me   to   make   it   there.   I   reached  out  my  hand  and  grabbed  the  dress,  the  fresh   and  new  feel  of  it  against  my  dirty  and  cold  hands  felt   fantastic.   I   stepped   backwards   to   the   window   and   without   hesitation   leaped   back   out   into   the   mists   of   the  fog  that  awaited  me  and  disappeared.
As   morning   approached   I   snuck   inside   an   empty,   little   home,   new   dress   and   all.   It   was   just   as   broken   down   as   the   last   one   I   had   slept   in   with   the   exception   that   the   roof   had   no   cracks.   No   cracks   but   part   of   it   seemed   to   cave   in,   giving   me   the   uneasy   feeling  that  it  would  fall  on  me  any  second.  Again  I  fell   to   my   knees   before   placing   all   of   my   body   in   the   middle  of  the  dust  covered  floor,  where  the  stench  of   dead   animals   that   lay   someplace   I   couldn’t   see   them   waited  for  me.  It  occurred  to  me  that  for  some  reason  I   had  instinctively  hid  from  the  day.  I  paid  no  mind  and   closed  my  eyes,  slipping  into  dreams.

I  awoke  to  a  searing  pain.  My  eyes  popped  open   to  catch  the  sight  of  small  drifts  of  smoke  coming  from   my   right   arm.   I   started   to   cry   out   loud   in   agony   but   caught  myself  for  fear  someone  would  find  me.  A  lone   beam  of  sunlight  had  found  the  pale  skin  of  my  right   hand,  forming  an  inch  wide  hole  on  it.  I  retreated  back   further   into   the   shadows   of   the   house,   cuffing   my   burned  hand  with  my  other  as  an  unbelievable  rush  of   pain   took   hold   of   me.   I   felt   as   if   my   entire   arm   was   afire.   The   smoke   from   the   wound   continued   to   pour   from  the  gaps  in  my  fingers  and  the  sickening  smell  of   burning   flesh   began   to   envelope   the   place.   As   fast   as   the   pain   came   it   had   started   to   vanish,   and   when   I   looked   at   the   wound,   I   had   found   that   the   hole   itself   began  to  disappear  as  well.  For  the  longest  time  I  had   held   out   hope   that   what   Mical   said   to   me   was   just   some  insane  lie,  and  in  the  back  of  my  mind  I  was  still   every   bit   as   human   as   I   knew   I   had   been.   But   seeing   what  had  happened  to  me,  the  effect  of  the  sun  on  my   skin,  the  rapidness  at  which  it  healed  and  the  lack  of  a   beating  heart  brought  it  to  realism.  I  was  a  monster.  I   was  a  Vampire.

I   cowered   in   the   farthest   corner   of   the   home   and  waited  for  the  sun  to  finish  its  decent  beneath  the   horizon   before   venturing   forth   into   the   night   once   more.  Despite  the  new  change  of  clothes,  I  still  looked   like  death  had  found  and  left  me,  job  undone.  Outside   I  could  hear  footsteps  of  those  who  lived  in  the  village,   many   of   them   scurrying   off   to   their   respective   homes   for   the   night.   When   most   of   them   faded   I   finally   left   the   house   and   set   out   for   something   to   eat.   My   stomach   had   been   having   a   voice   of   its   own   for   the   past  few  days  and  it  was  time  to  quiet  it  down.  I  wasn’t   out  of  the  home  for  a  few  minutes  when  I  caught  the   aroma   of   a   fresh   made   stew   that   had   settled   in   the   evening’s  air.  It  took  hold  of  me  and  I  gladly  followed   the   smell   and   found   myself   at   the   exact   same   place   I   had   been   the   night   before.   The   maker   of   clothes   had   made   it,   and   I   stopped   dead   in   my   tracks   on   sight   of   the  home.
“So  you’d  be  the  one  to  take  my  dress,  yes?”      The   voice   startled   me,   and   I   swore   I   jumped   five  feet  in  the  air  when  I  heard  it.  I  turned  to  see  an   old  lady  behind  me  with  her  arms  crossed  and  a  slight   smile,   showing   many   discolored   and   missing   teeth   as   big  brown  eyes  looked  on  me.  I  wanted  to  run,  but  my   legs   had   done   this   much   to   carry   me   here,   I   knew   it   was   no   use.   I   wanted   to   speak,   but   I   hadn’t   the   strength  to  do  that  now.
“I  saw  you  coming  from  a  ways.  May  be  old,  but   still  got  the  eyes,”  she  said  as  she  shuffled  towards  me   as  the  long  pea  green  dress  she  wore  moved  back  and   forth,   almost   completely   covering   her   shoes.   As   she   approached,  the  silver  mane  of  hair  atop  her  head  had   shown  brightly  in  the  candlelight  from  her  house.       “Come   now,”   she   said   to   me   as   she   placed   her   trembling   hand   on   my   arm,   turning   me   to   walk   with   her.  “Let’s  get  you  something  to  eat.”
She   led   me   into   her   home.   Inside   awaited   a   bowl  of  the  stew  she  had  made  at  the  very  same  table   where   I   had   found   the   dress   the   night   before.   The   home   of   the   woman   was   small,   but   more   than   adequate  for  someone  like  her.  There  wasn’t  much  to   it  as  it  was  with  many  homes  of  the  poor  back  in  those   times.

A   simple   place   with   simple   furnishings,   but   unlike  the  rest  of  the  places  I  had  been  inside  of  in  the   past   few   nights,   this   one   had   a   much   more   welcome   feel  to  it.  Warm  and  comforting,  it  was  a  much  needed   and   welcome   change   of   pace.   The   main   room   was   slightly   bigger   than   the   room   I   had   found   the   dress,   with  a  tiny  fireplace  where  the  stew  was  cooking.  From   there  was  a  small  bedroom  in  the  back  right.  Straight   ahead  where  I  had  entered  was  the  sewing  room.  She   sat  me  down  and  I  watched  her  place  the  bowl  of  stew,   still  steaming  with  heat,  in  front  of  me  with  a  wooden   spoon   beside   it   along   with   a   cup   of   water.   It   was   a   vegetable  mixture  of  stew,  not  my  favorite,  but  I  wasn’t   going  to  be  picky.  This  was  both  her  sewing  room  and   eating  room  apparently.  As  I  began  to  eat  she  watched   me  with  a  soft  smile.
“I   saw   you   last   night,   dear,”   she   said   to   me.   I   could  hear  her  accent  was  a  pronounced  London  type.   I  wondered  how  long  she  had  been  here.  I  was  far  too   busy   enjoying   the   meal   to   pay   any   attention   to   what   she   said.   The   meal   was   a   long   awaited   relief   to   my   hunger  and  she  could  obviously  see  that.  It  took  me  all   of  five  minutes  to  finish  it.  When  I  was  done  she  took   the  bowl,  her  hands  still  trembling  and  looked  at  me,  a   warm   look,   the   kind   of   look   a   mother   gives   to   her   child.   In   the   full   light   of   the   candles   that   surrounded   us   I   saw   her   face   decorated   with   the   lines   of   age,   but   lines  that  rested  gracefully.
“You  said  you  saw  me?”  I  asked.
“Yes,  dear.  Last  night  I  saw  you  just  as  you  left.   Watched   you   run   away.   I   saw   the   state   you   were   in   and   knew   you   were   hungry.   I   thought   the   smell   of   food  would  get  your  attention.”
A  wash  of  guilt  overcame  me  as  I  quickly  turned   from   her.   She   could   see   it   and   shook   her   head   while   placing  her  hand  on  my  shoulder  again  where  I  could   feel  the  trembling  of  it  settle.
“It’s   alright,   child.   I   don’t   mind   you   taking   the   dress.”
She  disappeared  from  sight  for  a  second  to  get   more   food   as   I   sat   there   staring   out   the   window.   Outside  the  skies  of  the  star-‐filled  night  grew  hazy  and   started   to   vanish   as   clouds   from   another   storm   approached.  Rumblings  of  thunder  could  be  heard  far   off.

The  sound  of  a  door  opening  at  the  front  of  the   home  caught  my  attention.  I  listened  to  find  a  voice  of   a   man,   a   man   younger   than   the   woman   who   had   fed   me.  Heavy  steps  echoed  from  the  main  room  signaling   he   was   headed   towards   me.   Seconds   later   a   balding,   middle-‐aged  man  looked  into  the  sewing  room  where  I   was.  His  dark  eyes  looked  me  over  as  a  bit  of  a  twisted   frown  took  shape  on  his  lips.  With  a  scoff  he  snorted   and   disappeared   from   view.   I   could   hear   the   two   of   them,  him  demanding  who  I  was  and  her  telling  him  I   was   in   need   of   help.   They   went   back   and   forth   for   minutes.   Finally   silence   took   over   as   the   sound   of   a   door  shutting  slowly  and  carefully  signaled  the  end  of   the  conversation.  The  woman  reappeared  with  a  bowl   filled  with  new  servings  of  stew.
“My   son,”   she   starts,   “he   comes   here   now   and   then   to   check   up   on   me.   You   must   forgive   him.   He   doesn’t  take  to  well  to  strangers.”
“Have  you  done  this  before,  taken  someone  in?”       She   laughed   a   beautiful   laugh,   soothing   and   wonderful  to  anyone  who  was  in  earshot  of  it.       “Yes,  I  can’t  help  it.  I  see  something  or  someone   in  need,  and  I  just  have  to  provide  for  them.  Just  like  I   saw  you  last  night.  Where  are  you  from,  child?  Where   are  your  parents?”
I   froze   for   a   second   before   I   came   up   with   a   suitable  story.
“My   parents   came   down   with   the   plague.   They’re   both   dead   now.   I’ve   spent   the   past   weeks   going  from  town  to  town,  living  off  what  I  can.”       The   woman   put   her   hand   to   her   mouth,   her   eyes   dropping   like   rain   from   a   cloud   as   she   gave   a   small  gasp.
“I’m  sorry,  dear.  If  you  need  a  place  to  stay,  you   could-‐”
“I  couldn’t  do  that,  really.”
“Oh,   I   won’t   hear   of   it.   And   don’t   worry   about   my  son  he  only  looks  mean.  He’s  harmless.”       “Really,”  I  said.  “I  couldn’t.”
“No   more.   Understand,   Child?   You   will   stay   here  for  tonight  at  least.”
She   took   down   her   hand   from   her   face   with   a   smile  returning  to  her  as  she  cocks  her  head  and  looks   into  my  eyes.
“I’ve   not   much   here   to   sleep   on,   but   a   few   chairs.  You  could  share  my  bed  if  you’d  like.”       “No  I  couldn’t  do  that.  But  thank  you.  I  promise   I’ll  be  out  of  here  before  dawn.”
“Oh   you   can   stay   here   as   long   as   you   want.   At   least  until  you  get  better.”
“Better?”
“Yes,  child.  You  look  a  bit...”  She  hesitated,  and   I  was  sure  the  thought  of  horror  that  I  might  have  the   plague  ran  through  her  mind.  “a  bit  pale  is  all.”

I   finished   the   second   serving   of   the   meal   and   she   took   it   away   from   me,   her   smile   still   fixed   as   she   disappeared   from     the   room   again.   She   was   so   kind,   and   for   a   second   I   wished   she   could   have   been   my   mother.   But   I   saw   why   she   was   so   eager   to   take   someone   in.   She   was   a   lonely,   old   woman   who   obviously   wasn’t   as   close   as   she   liked   to   be   with   her   son.  A  part  of  me  went  out  to  her  in  sadness.

As   the   night   wore   on   we   talked,   the   way   mothers   and   daughters   talk   about   many   things.   We   talked   and   with   each   passing   minute   my   worries   drifted   and   for   the   first   time   in   days   I   felt   like   myself   again.   As   the   night   progressed   she   retreated   to   her   bed,  and  I  was  left  in  the  main  room  where  I  sat  in  a   chair  with  a  cover  draped  over  me.  I  sat  there  looking   out   the   only   window   in   that   room,   seeing   it   was   starting  to  sprinkle  outside  and  I  knew  I  couldn’t  stay   here  much  longer.  Dawn  would  be  here  in  a  matter  of   hours  and  as  much  as  I  hated  it,  hated  to  leave  her,  I   knew  I  would  have  to.  I  was  lost  in  thought,  my  mind   dizzy  with  the  events  of  the  past  few  days.  For  the  first   time   I   had   really   had   the   chance   to   think   about   all   that’s   happened   and   still   really   couldn’t   comprehend   it.   What   was   I   to   do   now?   Where   was   I   to   go?   I   was   scared.   Scared   to   acknowledge   really   what   happened   to  me.  What  I  was  now.  What  monster  was  waiting  to   come  out  within  me?
I   had   eaten   and   drank   but   still   there   was   a   thirst   unlike   any   I   had   ever   felt   before.   My   thoughts   drifted   from   me   like   a   dream   after   waking   when   the   door  slowly  opened.  Quietly,  the  balding  man  stepped   inside,  his  dark,  callous  eyes  laying  on  me  instantly.       “Still   here   are   ya?”   He   loomed   over   me,   and   I   couldn’t   help   but   feel   a   bit   intimidated.   He   stood   there,   looking   down   on   me,   and   while   I   didn’t   dare   look   back   on   him,   I   could   feel   his   eyes,   feeling   as   if   they   would   burn   a   hole   through   my   skin,   like   the   beam   of   sunlight   did   earlier.   The   sounds   of   thunder   grew  louder  now.  With  a  grunt  he  looked  around  the   house,  “Where’s  my  mum?”
Trying  not  to  show  my  nervousness  too  much  I   pointed  a  slightly  shaking  hand  to  the  closed  door  that   was   off   to   my   right   and   behind   me.   He   stepped   away   from  me  and  to  the  door.

I  peeked  behind  to  see  him  crack  open  the  door   and   look   in.   I   could   hear   her   deep   breathing   from   where   I   sat   and   knew   she   was   fast   asleep.   He   closed   the  door  just  as  silently  as  he  had  cracked  it  open.  As   he  did  I  quickly  turned  back  around,  afraid  to  let  him   see   that   I   was   looking   at   him.   The   floor   seemed   to   moan   beneath   the   steps   of   his   feet   and   they   grew   louder  as  he  approached  me  again,  back  to  his  space  in   front   of   me,   kneeling   down   where   his   eyes   settled   on   my   face.   I   felt   the   feelings   of   fright   and   anxiousness   grow  within  me.  If  I  were  still...human,  drops  of  sweat   would’ve   been   pouring   from   me   by   then.   I   could   feel   those   dark   eyes   scan   me,   going   up   and   down   as   his   hands,  that  looked  big  enough  to  twist  the  head  off  of   a   small   cow,   griped   the   arm   of   the   chair   I   was   in.   He   whispered   to   me   and   as   he   did   I   felt   and   smelled   the   warm  stench  of  brew  on  his  breath.
“My   mum   is   a   very   caring   lady,   but   a   bit   naive   about  people.  Some  of  them  tend  to  take  advantage  of   her.  You  aren’t  one  of  those  people,  are  ya?”       “No-‐no,  sir.”
One  of  his  hands  shot  over  to  mine  and  clasped   it  with  a  grip  that  I  thought  would  crush  my  bones  to   powder.
“Good   to   hear.   Although,   I   never   seen   mum   take  anyone  like  you  in  before.”
I  gave  a  smile,  praying  he’d  let  me  go.  He  took   his  other  hand  and  ran  it  through  the  tangled  curls  of   my  hair,  and  now  I  knew  he  could  sense  the  fright  in   me.
“Yes,  you’re  very  nice  indeed.”
“Please,  sir,  would  you  let  go  of  m-‐”
I   didn’t   get   the   chance   to   finish   as   I   felt   his   hand  take  hold  of  the  curls.  I  tried  to  scream  out,  but   before  I  could,  his  hand  that  was  clasped  around  mine   now  covered  my  mouth.  Head  first  he  threw  me  out  of   the  chair  and  onto  the  floor.
Before  I  knew  it  he  was  on  top  of  me,  his  weight   alone   ending   any   kind   of   struggle   before   I   had   a   chance   to   start   one.   My   screams   died   beneath   a   mammoth  hand  and  fingers  while  the  other  tore  at  my   waist,   ripping   the   dress   up   between   my   legs.   That’s   when   I   noticed   it.   The   thirst.   The   thirst   seemed   to   overwhelm  me.  It  was  a  kind  of  thirst  I  had  never  had   before.   A   thirst   no   water   or   wine   or   any   drink   could   squelch.  A  thirst  no  hunger  could  compare  to.  Outside   the   rain   poured   fourth   and   the   sound   of   the   drops   hitting  the  ground  was  like  that  of  cannonballs  hitting   the  walls  of  a  stone  fortress.

The   thunder   seemed   to   shake   every   bone   within  me,  and  the  flashes  of  lightening  seemed  to  be   greater   than   the   light   of   day.   I   could   sense,   feel,   hear   and   smell   things   greater   than   before.   Greater   than   back  at  the  cave.  I  had  closed  my  eyes,  afraid  of  seeing   the   son’s   face,   but   now   I   opened   them.   When   I   did   what  he  saw  gave  him  pause,  and  I  clearly  saw  a  terror   take  hold  of  his  heart  like  none  before.  He  had  almost   finished  making  a  tear  up  the  mid  of  my  dress  when  he   just  stopped.  He  looked  at  me,  his  face  pale  and  mouth   open,  not  knowing  what  to  make  of  what  he  saw.       “My   God!   Your   eyes,   girl!   What   happened   to   your  eyes?”
I   saw   myself   in   his   eyes.   My   reflection   showed   my  eyes  that  were  once  so  green  had  now  turned  the   deepest  of  silver.

He   screamed.   He   never   got   the   chance   to   ask   another   question   as   by   pure   instinct   I   took   my   left   hand   and   placed   his   head   back   with   ease.   I   felt   him   struggle  but  it  was  too  late  as  I  sunk  my  teeth  into  his   jugular.   The   smell,   taste,   warmth   and   feel   of   it   going   into   me   was   amazing.   A   rush   unlike   any   other   I   had   ever   felt.   His   throat   collapsed   under   the   pressure   of   my  teeth,  and  as  it  did  I  bit  down  even  harder.  Blood   showered   down   upon   me   and   everything   beneath.   Hoarse   screams   were   all   he   could   manage   now,   but   soon  those  too  would  fade.  In  a  matter  of  seconds  his   lifeblood  was  drained  and  all  that  was  left  was  a  mass   of  a  broken  body  with  most  of  its  throat  torn  out.     The  door  to  the  old  woman’s  room  swung  open.   She  saw  what  had  happened  and  ran  as  fast  as  her  frail   legs  could  carry  her.
“What  did  you  do?”  she  screamed.
She  fell  to  her  knees  beside  her  son’s  body.  I  sat   up   and   scooted   to   the   wall,   wiping   the   last   drop   of   blood   from   my   lips.   In   those   few   seconds   that   I   had   him  in  my  arms,  draining  the  very  life  from  him,  I  felt   whole,   alive,   and   more   powerful   than   anytime   in   my   life  before...and  I  enjoyed  it.
The  woman  clutched  her  son  in  her  arms  as  his   dead  eyes  stared  up  to  the  heavens.  Over  and  over  she   asked   me   what   had   I   done   to   him,   but   I   couldn’t   answer.   I   was   savoring   the   taste   of   blood,   which   was   still  wet,  still  sweet  and  pure,  in  my  throat.  I  couldn't   answer   because   I   had   no   answers   for   her.   Then   the   guilt   came   over   me.   Not   for   what   I   had   done   to   him,   but  what  I  had  done  to  her.  I  wounded  the  one  person   who   seemed   to   care   about   me   in   the   world   now.   The   guilt   began   to   be   too   much   to   bear,   seeing   her   there,   utterly   destroyed   by   what   I   had   done   to   her   son.   I   knew   then,   looking   at   the   sight   of   her   clutching   that   body   in   her   arms   that   trembled   uncontrollably,   that   whatever  I  had  been  was  no  more  and  what  I  was  now   I   would   always   be.   I   accepted   it   with   open   arms.   Accepted  it  as  much  as  I  accepted  the  blood  of  her  son   into  my  body.  I  shot  to  my  feet,  and  with  energy  I  had   never  felt  before,  left  the  old  woman  and  her  screams   of  “why?”  behind.  Again  I  ventured  forth  into  the  night   and   the   storm   that   awaited   me,   running   once   more   into  the  unknown.

Chapter 4

New   York   City.   A   city   abuzz   with   life,   as   the   world   around   you   moves   at   a   breakneck   pace,   and   if   you’re  not  used  to  it,  you  surely  will  be  washed  away.   Here,   amongst   buildings   that   tower   above   everything   else,  touching  the  sky  with  the  tips  of  their  roofs  while   one   who   would   look   down   from   them   would   see   thousands   of   people   in   the   forms   of   dots   scurry   like   ants  to  and  fro.  Here,  where  people,  cars,  bikes  and  life   move   about   the   gray,   concrete   streets,   littered   at   points   with   half   eaten   food   and   scattered   paper   that   blow   about   the   legs   of   pedestrians   who   pay   them   no   mind   as   they   head   on   their   merry   way.   Here,   in   the   thick  of  the  city  where  the  congestion  of  traffic  fills  the   air   with   exhaust,   giving   it   the   slight   mixture   of   a   metallic  taste  and  gasoline.
The   sounds   from   the   traffic   of   cars   stopping   and  going,  starting  and  stopping,  the  feet  of  people  in   a   hurried   pace   and   voices   of   people   talking   on   their   cell   phones,   to   the   person   next   to   them,   or   just   thinking  out  loud,  are  the  soundtrack  to  the  everyday   life  within  this  vast  metropolis  where  one  such  as  I  can   blend  in  as  easy  as  a  blade  of  grass  in  a  field.

It  is  here  that  I  return  after  being  gone  too  long.   I   had   forgotten   how   much   I   had   missed   my   beloved   New   York.   The   city,   the   people,   the   life   and   feel   of   it   came   to   me   all   in   a   rush   as   I   stepped   foot   back   onto   the  streets  that  I  haven’t  seen  in  so  long.  It  was  almost   one   in   the   morning   now;   the   red   eye   from   L.A.   had   done  its  job  in  getting  me  here  on  time.

The  feel  of  the  stale  air,  the  slight  salty  smell  of   the   Atlantic   from   clear   across   Coney   Island   that   the   wind   sometimes   blows   in,   that   only   one   with   senses   like  mine  could  smell,  even  drew  a  smile  on  my  face.  I   welcomed  it  all  for  I  had  missed  it  so.  The  life  of  L.A.   was   beginning   to   bore   me   and   I   needed   to   get   away   from   it.   New   York   had   always   been   fun.   And   like   before,   it   will   be   so   again.   While   I   waited   for   the   taxi   driver   to   remove   the   last   of   my   luggage   from   the   trunk,   I   looked   up   at   the   grand   tower   where   I   would   be   staying.   The   night   made   it   look   like   a   black   monolith   of   a   building   whose   glass   seemed   to   reflect   every  light,  billboard  and  banner  advertisement  in  the   vicinity.  It  was  the  darkest  of  the  night,  but  it  was  the   weekend.   Another   Friday   to   be   exact   and   the   people   were  out  in  force.

I  was  a  week  removed  from  my  last  kill  and  the   urge  to  drink  was  returning.  But  it  could  wait.  Despite   popular  belief,  most  Vampires  can  go  for  long  periods   of   time   without   the   taste   of   blood.   When   the   driver   was   done,   I   gave   him   his   tip   and   he   was   on   his   way.   Next   was   the   bell   hop,   a   child   of   a   man,   eighteen   or   nineteen  with  still  a  few  pimples  scattered  on  his  face,   working   his   way   through   college,   he   tells   me,   on   our   way   to   the   apartment   I’d   be   staying   in.   A   couple   of   minutes   later   I   find   myself   at   the   doors   to   my   residence.   I   unlock   the   doors   with   my   own   key   and   after   a   soft   click   the   door   gives   way   to   a   lavish   room   where   snow-‐white   carpets   stretched   from   one   corner   to  the  other,  touching  matching  cream  walls.

The   bellhop   and   I   stopped   just   short   of   stepping  in  when  we  saw  a  sign  placed  on  a  very  large,   black   table   with   gold   trim,   ahead   instructing   of   us   to   remove  our  shoes.  I  did  so  and  the  bellhop  placed  the   luggage   in   the   room   without   even   stepping   inside.   Minutes   later   his   job   was   done,   and   I   tipped   him,   sending   him   on   his   way.   The   warmth   of   the   room   wrapped   itself   around   my   bare   arms   as   soon   as   I   had   dropped  my  leather  trench  coat  onto  one  of  the  chairs   of  the  table.  The  smell  of  vanilla  incense  clung  to  every   inch  of  the  apartment,  filling  my  lungs  with  that  sweet   smell.   She   had   always   loved   that   smell.   So   this   is   where  she  lived  now.  She  had  come  much  farther  than   where   she   started.   Besides   the   sign   lay   a   note   written   in   that   fast   and   fluid   style   of   writing   she   had   always   used.

Make yourself at home, but do not touch the wine until I get there. We’ll celebrate your return together. Understand???
Love, Serena

Her  apartment  was  spacious,  bigger  than  some   homes   I   had   seen   and   been   in.   From   the   ceiling,   a   chandelier   hung   with   crystals   stacked   upon   one   another,   where   the   lights   shown   through   them,   illuminating   the   room   in   a   spectacular   prism   effect   that  decorated  everything  below  them  as  the  table  lay   underneath  with  matching  chairs.  Past  the  table  was  a   huge   widescreen   TV   with   the   top-‐of-‐the-‐line   theater   system   to   accompany   it.   Most   would   have   had   paintings  from  long  dead  artist  litter  the  walls,  but  not   Serena.  Her  love  for  the  golden  age  of  Hollywood  was   clearly   visible   as   posters   were   everywhere.   On   the   right   of   the   room   were   endless   images   of   old   movie   posters   encased   safely   in   glass.   From   Humphrey   Bogart   to   Marilyn   Monroe   along   with   James   Cagney,   Marlene  Detrich,  Betty  Davis,  James  Dean  and  Tyrone   Powers;   Images   of   actors   long   gone   from   a   time   long   ago.  They  lined  the  three  walls  of  the  main  room.  But   the  obvious  centerpiece  was  of  Vivien  Leigh  and  Clark   Gable   locked   in   that   now   immortal   embrace   from   Gone   With   The   Wind   placed   just   above   the   television   on  the  wall  in  front.  It,  like  the  rest  of  the  posters  was   worth  more  than  this  apartment  I  imagine.
The   entire   main   room   was   like   a   winter   wonderland  as  white  mostly  ruled  the  decor.  Only  the   table  with  its  gold  trim  and  matching  chairs  stood  out   to  go  with  the  black  theater  stereo  equipment.  A  snow   white  chair  sat  in  front  of  the  Theater  system  while  on   the   other   side   of   the   room,   the   back   of   the   room,   far   left  from  where  you  enter  is  a  kitchen,  that  looked  as  if   it   had   never   even   been   used.   The   fourth   wall   of   the   main  room  was  composed  entirely  of  glass.  From  this   view,  everything  west  of  you  in  the  city  could  be  seen.
The   lights   of   far   off   homes,   businesses   and   passing  cars  decorated  the  night  below  showing  off  the   life  of  the  city  on  the  weekend,  and  I  longed  to  be  out   in  it.  But  I  had  to  wait.  Soon  she  would  be  arriving  and   I   had   to   be   here   for   her.   How   long   had   it   been,   fifty,   sixty   years?   It   only   seemed   like   days.   For   us   it   can.   Time  has  no  meaning.  Fifty  or  sixty  years  might  as  well   be  five  or  six  days  to  us.  For  a  while  I  just  stared  and   looked   at   awe   at   how   much   New   York   had   changed   since   I   had   last   been   here.   Cleaner   and   more   family   friendly   they   say   it   is   now.   From   what   little   I   saw,   I’d   have   to   agree.   My   eyes   focused   on   my   reflection,   my   dressed  for  L.A.  not  New  York  look  staring  right  back   at  me.  Plain  Jeans  and  a  black  tank  top  was  what  I  had   on.  Foolish  of  me  to  think  New  York  would  have  L.A.’s   warmth   in   November.   I   clearly   had   been   gone   too   long.
I   stand   there,   lost   in   thoughts   as   time   continues   to   pass  until  finally  that  sound  of  the  soft  clicking  of  the   locking  mechanism  brings  me  back  from  them.       “Lilith?”
The  familiar  voice  came  from  the  entranceway;   the   voice   that   I   had   gone   so   long   without   hearing   gains  my  full  attention  now.  So  soft  and  still  so  young,   pure  and  innocent,  just  like  it  was  when  I  found  her.       “Lilith,”  She  screams  to  me  with  arms  raised  out   in  front.  She  runs  from  the  door  as  it  shuts  behind,  a   blur   of   white   leather   and   auburn   coming   at   me   with   excited  speed.
“Hello,  Serena.”  My  greeting  is  drowned  out  by   a   high-‐pitched   scream   of   delight   and   happiness.   She   embraces   me   as   the   longtime   friend   she   has   been.   As   a   daughter  would  embrace  her  mother  after  being  gone   from   home   too   long.   And   oh   how   I   missed   it,   her   caring   and   love   for   me,   the   warmth   of   her   embrace   around   my   body   as   all   five   foot   nine   of   her   frame   squeezed   me,   and   I   did   the   same   for   some   untold   number  of  minutes.  We  were  making  up  for  time  lost   to  us.
“How   are   you?”   she   asks   as   she   pulls   away   far   enough  for  me  to  see  her  ivory  colored  skin  and  deep   blue   eyes   that   seemed   to   shine   behind   the   few   bangs   that  rested  just  over  them.
She  still  gripped  my  waist  as  a  smile  like  that  of   royalty  seemed  to  blind  me  with  its  beauty.  I  nodded  a   yes   letting   her   know   I   was   perfectly   okay.   More   so   than  I  had  felt  in  years  now.  The  look  on  her  face  left   me   speechless   with   nothing   but   a   smile   of   my   own.   We  hugged  each  other  again  and  longer  than  the  first   time.  It  had  truly  been  too  long  since  I  had  seen  her.
Minutes  later,  Serena  gave  me  a  guided  tour  of   the   apartment.   Huge   and   lavish,   much   of   it   was   just   like  the  main  room.  Serena  had  always  had  a  place  in   her   heart   for   the   snow   color   and   throughout   the   apartment   it   laid   and   sat,   stood   and   folded   into   different   things.   From   cabinets,   hampers   to   benches   and  everyday  accessories.  A  snow-‐white  palace  it  was,   complete  with  a  matching  queen-‐size  bed,  made  of  the   purist   of   porcelain,   covered   with   white   Japanese   silk   sheets   that   had   sprinkles   of   gold   dust   on   them.   And   just   like   the   main   room,   more   posters   of   Hollywood’s   yesteryear  decorated  the  walls  of  her  bedroom.

The   only   signs   of   other   colors   were   from   the   small  black  and  gold  entertainment  center  she  had  in   her   room.   An   apartment   like   this   must   have   cost   a   fortune,   and   it   did.   More   than   some   houses   cost,   but   she   didn’t   care.   This   was   her   home,   and   she   loved   every   part   of   it,   and   you   could   see   she   put   a   part   of   herself  in  every  room  in  the  four-‐bedroom  home.  The   other   rooms   were   like   hers,   just   smaller   and   the   beds   matched  the  size  of  the  rooms,  nowhere  near  as  close   as  hers,  but  big  enough  for  most.
A  couple  of  hours  later  we  found  ourselves  back   at  the  table  in  the  main  room,  a  bottle  of  1927  red  wine   more   than   half   empty   now.   We   sat   in   the   room   with   only   a   small   table   light   and   the   lights   of   outside   illuminating   us.   We   talked   of   what   we’ve   done   and   what  we  plan  on  doing.  Serena  was  now  a  supermodel.   One   of   the   most   wanted   and   highest   paid   models   at   that.   Of   course   she   would   be.   She   was   always   so   stunningly  beautiful,  and  always  stood  out.  That’s  how   I  noticed  her  all  those  years  ago.
“Oh,”  she  yells  as  if  she  had  found  the  answer  to   a   question   that   wasn’t   asked.   “Guess   who’ll   be   here   Sunday?”     The   wine   had   taken   its   effect   on   her   as   she  was  giggling  through  every  other  word  now.       “Who,  Serena?”
“Olivier.”
Serena’s   giggles   stop   cold   when   she   sees   the   expression   on   my   face.   I   give   a   slight   raise   of   one   eyebrow  as  eyes  formed  tight  slits.
“He’s  here?”
Quieter,   with   the   playfulness   completely   gone   now  she  answers,  “Yes.  He’s  here  with  his...”  Her  eyes   turn   away   from   me   and   focus   on   the   table,   the   black   paint  showing  her  reflection  back  at  her,  “his  wife.”       Although   I   try   not   to   show   it,   a   tiny   gasp   of   disbelief   escapes   from   me   as   I   lean   back   in   my   chair.     “You-‐you  didn't  know,  Lilith?”
I  don’t  say  anything.  The  expression  in  my  eyes   said   it   all   to   her.   I   didn’t   know,   and   how   I   wish   she   hadn’t  told  me  at  all.

She  goes  on  to  tell  me  how  he’s  throwing  a  gala,   a  celebration  of  his  wife’s  birthday.  Serena  was  invited   because   she’s   a   friend   of   the   planner   of   the   party.   It’s   supposed  to  be  taking  place  this  Sunday.  We  continue   to   talk   about   Olivier   and   other   things   until   dawn   broke,   and   soon   the   both   of   us   retreat   to   our   respective  rooms.  In  the  stillness  right  before  morning   I   lay   quietly   in   the   guest   room,   covered   to   my   ears   with   those   snow-‐white   blankets   that   Serena   had   laid   out  for  me.  My  mind  awash  in  thoughts,  as  much  as  I   didn’t   want   to,   I   kept   drifting   back   to   him.   How   long   had  he’d  been  married?  Should  I  go  to  the  ball  Serena   told   me   he   was   throwing?   How   would   either   of   us   react  upon  seeing  the  other?  In  the  next  room  I  could   hear   Serena   stirring.   Another   myth   is   that   Vampires   cannot  walk  in  the  light  of  day.  For  most  of  us  that  is   true.   But   for   a   very   rare   few,   like   Serena,   the   sun   has   no  effect  on  them  at  all.  There’s  no  explanation  for  it.   It’s  just  how  it  is.

The  door  to  the  room  slowly  opens  and  in  steps   Serena  in  an  extra  long-‐night  shirt.  With  an  uncertainty  in   her  approach,  she  climbs  into  the  bed  and  beneath  the   covers.  I  slightly  turn  my  head  back  to  her  as  she  slips   her   arm   around   me   while   laying   her   head   on   my   shoulder.   She   lay   against   me   covering   my   back   as   we   both  lay  on  our  sides.
“I  missed  you,  Lilith,”  she  says.
I  catch  the  fleeting  sweet  aroma  of  red  wine  on   her   cool   breath.   And   almost   instantly   she’s   gone   into   the   world   of   dreams.   Her   hand   rests   on   my   stomach   and   I   reach   down   and   take   it   into   mine   and   squeeze.   Although  I  know  she  can’t  hear  me,  I  say  the  same  to   her.
“I  missed  you  too,  Serena.”
Here   we   were   again,   like   the   days   of   old.   I   felt   her   chest   rise   and   fall   against   me,   and   again   I   find   myself  drifting,  drifting  back  to  England.

London,  England  of  1648  would  turn  out  to  be  a   great  place  for  me  to  be.  It  was  there  that  I  would  meet   Serena.   Actually   I   would   meet   her   at   a   gathering   of   aristocrats  and  the  insanely  rich.  The  most  elite  of  the   elite   were   at   a   manor   about   the   size   of   a   small   castle   right  on  the  outskirts  of  London.  I  had  spent  the  past   few   centuries   learning   and   finding   new   powers.   And   like   my   skills,   I   to   had   evolved   from   roaming   the   countryside  and  fields  killing  cattle  like  some  common   animal   to   moving   amongst   mortals,   learning   patience   and   waiting   for   the   right   time   to   kill.   Going   from   a   scared   young   girl   of   a   Vampire   to   one   who   was   growing   into   her   powers   and   just   discovering   the   complexities,  or  lack  thereof,  of  mortals.

For   the   first   few   years   of   my   immortality,   I   spent  much  of  it  just  watching  and  learning,  taking  in   the   fears   and   hopes   of   mortals,   how   they   acted   and   what   they   did   and   used   that.   I   studied   them   as   one   would  study  a  book.  Through  this  I  began  to  use  what   weaknesses   I   found   to   my   advantage,   using   them   to   gain   wealth   and   power   at   their   own   expense.   Men,   especially  married  men,  were  the  easiest  to  get  what  I   wanted.  And  when  I  was  done,  and  I  got  what  wanted   from   them,   life   for   them   was   over.   I   learned   quickly   from   my   first   kill   of   the   old   woman’s   son   how   much   the   taste   and   need   for   blood   drove   me   in   those   days,   much  as  it  drives  me  now.

I  entered  dressed  from  ankles  to  shoulders  in  a   long,  strapless,  white  and  gray  dress  of  the  day  that  fit   you  like  a  vice  from  the  waist  up  and  loosened  on  the   way  down.  The  blonde  curls  that  had  once  adorned  my   head   were   now   straightened   and   pulled   back   into   a   twisted   bun   atop   the   crown   of   my   head,   leaving   two   ringlets   dangling   freely   before   either   ear.   I   had   come   into   the   gathering   of   the   wealthy   there   with   an   identity  of  a  fellow  wealthy  aristocrat,  the  daughter  of   a   Duke.   I,   or   his   daughter   had   been   away   in   Italy   for   sometime   so   no   one   knew   what   she   looked   like.   My   supposed   father   was   to   accompany   me,   but   he   died   suddenly  and  tragically  from  pneumonia,  at  least  that’s   what   I   told   them.   Truth   be   told,   I   had   killed   both   he   and  his  daughter  and  burned  the  bodies  weeks  before   and  a  day  after  I  found  the  invitation  to  this  small  get   together.   He   had   met   me   only   days   before   his   wife   died   of   a   heart   attack.   A   middle-‐aged   fool   who   was   vulnerable,  and  I  leapt  at  the  chance  to  take  advantage   of   him   and   his   fortune.   His   daughter   showed   and   immediately  took  a  disliking  to  me.

I   had   found   the   invitation   and   saw   my   chance   to  move  elsewhere,  along  with  the  money  he  was  more   than  willing  to  give,  so  I  disposed  of  the  both  of  them.   Which   brings   me   to   here.   It   was   the   fall   months   and   the   November   rains   rapped   softly   on   the   windows   of   the  manor  as  guest  took  comfort  in  the  warmth  of  the   many  fireplaces  and  candles  that  were  throughout  the   miniature   castle.   From   the   main   room   to   the   smaller   rooms   were   people   gathered   around   Parisian,   Victorian   furniture   and   fresh   oil   paintings,   many   of   which   took   up   entire   walls   and   looked   more   life   like   than  many  that  attended.  The  darkness  of  the  ceilings   gave   way   to   the   soft   golden   glow   of   the   candles   that   were   all   around,   throwing   the   shadows   of   the   inhabitants   on   the   wall   where   they   played   to   each   other   like   that   of   an   old   movie.   All   around   me   were   the   richest   of   the   rich,   and   one   of   them   I   would   take   for   me.   I   went   from   room   to   room,   mingling   and   looking   on,   trying   to   see   which   one   I   would   choose   when   I   saw   her.   Standing   alone   in   a   corner   of   the   room,   the   candles   in   there   casting   moving   shadows   across   her   face,   while   she   held   her   eyes   toward   the   floor,  as  if  she  knew  she  would  turn  to  stone  if  she  laid   them   on   someone.   She   was   a   frail,   young   thing,   the   twenty-‐four   year   old   wife   of   the   man   who   was   throwing  this  gala.

From   the   entrance   way   I   stood   and   watched   her,   watched   her   in   a   long   blue   gown   that   fitted   her   tightly  showing  every  accent  and  curve  she  had,  and  it   was  low  cut  to  reveal  her  chest,  bulging  outward  from   the  corset  beneath,  moving  slowly  up  and  down  as  she   took   long,   drawn-‐out   breaths   that   showed   just   how   miserable  she  was  there.  Most  of  her  auburn  hair  was   held  up  in  a  bonnet  as  little  ringlets  danced  about  on   both  sides  of  her  head.  She  stood  in  that  corner,  so  sad   and   frightened,   with   her   pink   lips   pouting   with   sadness.   My   eyes   glued   to   her,   I   glided   through   the   small   maze   of   people   who   were   about,   not   noticing   any   of   them,   but   all   noticing   me.   I   lifted   the   glass   of   wine  in  my  hand  to  her,  offering  a  sip.  The  girl  looked   up   at   me   startled,   not   knowing   what   to   make   of   it.   I   can   feel   she   wanted   to   run   away,   not   wanting   me   to   focus  the  attention  on  her.  She  wasn’t  used  to  it.  That   or  her  husband  didn’t  want  her  to  have  any.       “Why  doesn’t  the  lady  of  the  house  have  a  glass   of  wine  for  herself?”  I  said.
Her   eyes   scattered   all   over   the   room,   focusing   on  everything  but  me.
“I’m  right  here,”  I  said  waiving  my  hand  in  front   of  her.
“P-‐please,  leave  me  be?”
Her  voice  trembled  with  fear.  Her  husband  had   trained   her   to   be   a   servant,   only   speaking   when   spoken   to   and   to   be   fearful   when   talking   so   she   wouldn’t  speak  that  much.
“What  is  it  about  talking  to  me  that  makes  you   so  uncomfortable?”
“And  who  is  this,”  a  voiced  boomed,  filling  the   room  with  its  presence.
I   turned   my   head   ever   so   slightly   to   see   him,   the  husband  and  man  responsible  for  this  gala.  He  was   an   old   man,   early   sixties,   thin   and   weak,   whose   only   real  power  came  from  the  money  he  possessed.  He  was   caked   in   make-‐up   and   wearing   a   wig   much   to   big   for   his  head  that  it  sat  upon,  like  some  giant  albino  animal   shot   dead.   In   a   silver   cloak   that   covered   a   black   vest,   partially   wrapping   itself   around   the   matching   pants   and  boots  that  went  the  length  of  his  calves,  he  made   his   way   over   to   us,   his   strides   towards   us   slow   and   exaggerated  to  show  he  was  the  man  of  the  hour.

I  turned  back  to  the  girl,  where  I  could  see  that   the   very   sight   of   him   made   her   eyes   wide   with   fear,   causing   her   heart   to   race   twice   as   fast   than   seconds   earlier.
“Hello,   Madame,”   he   says   rushing   over   to   me,   hugging   me   as   if   we’ve   known   each   other   forever.   Quickly   his   smile   fades   to   a   somber   frown   and   the   boastful  glee  that  was  in  his  voice  just  seconds  before   is   replaced   by   that   of   such   fake   sadness   that   it’s   all   I   could   do   not   to   laugh   in   his   face   and   call   him   on   it.   “I’m  so  sorry  to  hear  of  your  father’s  passing,  my  dear.   If  there  is  anything  I  can  do...”
“Thank   you,   sir.   It   is   much   appreciated.   I   was   just   speaking   with   your   wife.   She   doesn’t   seem   to   be   one  for  conversation.”
His   hazel   eyes   turn   on   her   with   such   intensity   that  one  needn’t  wonder  what  he  thought  then.  I  look   to   see   her   head   drop   to   the   floor   once   again   as   she   swallowed   hard,   fighting   back   nervous   tears   that   had   started  to  show.
“Yes,”   he   said   coldly,   “I   am   sorry   about   that.   Serena-‐”
I   jumped   in   before   he   started   on   tearing   her   down  for  his  own  amusement  in  front  of  everyone.       “It’s   quite   alright...”   I   paused   waiting   to   hear   him  say  his  name.
“Andalas,  dear.”
“Andalas,   yes,   must’ve   slipped   from   memory,   sorry.   It’s   quite   all   right.   I’m   sure   she   meant   no   disrespect.”
I  turn  to  her,  “Serena  is  it?  If  it’s  alright,  could   you  show  me  the  house?”
Slowly   she   raised   her   head   again,   looking   to   him  for  approval.  He  nodded  and  she  agreed.

Soon   we   were   out   of   there   and   headed   for   the   main  room  once  again.
When  I  was  sure  we  were  out  of  ear  shot,  “Tell   me,  why  do  you  let  him  treat  you  like  that,  Serena?”     She  kept  stride  with  me,  step  for  step,  and  for  the  first   time   I   could   see   she   was   actually   taller   than   me   now   that  she  wasn’t  hunched  over  anymore.  She  turned  to   me  with  a  questioning  look  on  her  face  I  could  see  as   clear  as  the  glass  in  my  hand.  I  cocked  my  head,  giving   a  small  smile.

“Well?”
She  faced  forward  again,  “Why  wouldn’t  I?”  she   answered  back  timidly.
I  nodded.  Understand  now,  in  those  times  men   viewed  woman  more  so  as  property,  not  as  people,  and   certainly   not   as   equals.   I   was   fortunate   enough   to   be   brought   up   not   to   accept   that   from   anyone,   though.   While  I  had  seen  many  a  woman  just  like  her  and  went   about   my   way,   there   was   something   more   to   Serena.   Something   that   reminded   me   of   myself   centuries   before.   Perhaps   that’s   why   I   would   decide   to   free   her   from   her   life,   or   the   sad   excuse   that   it   was.   As   we   walked   from   room   to   room   my   mind   was   at   work.   I   was   just   discovering   new   powers   never   dreamed   of,   but   hadn’t   developed   the   skills   of   reading   minds   as   clear   as   I   can   now.   I   could   sense   what   they   thought,   what  they  felt;  and  I  knew  how  she  felt  about  him.  We   climbed   the   long   staircase,   wide   and   grand   it   was   as   paintings  hung  on  the  wall  to  the  side  of  it.
“How  long  have  you  been  married  to  Andalas?”       Serena   stays   quiet,   counting   the   time   off   to   herself.   “I   don’t   know   really,”   she   says,   “over   a   year   now?”
“Do  you  love  him?”
She   stops   in   her   tracks   just   as   we   come   to   the   top  of  the  staircase.  “Excuse  me,”  she  says  with  a  voice   half  shocked.
I   smile   as   I   take   a   sip   of   wine   from   my   glass,   wiping   off   a   rolling   drop   from   its   side.   “Do   you   love   him?”
With   a   flustered   look,   she   storms   away   from   me,   down   one   of   the   many   long   corridors   of   the   manor.  Upstairs  seemed  to  be  a  forbidden  place  from   the   other   party   guests   and   my   questioning   probably   threw   her   from   her   train   of   thought.   Odds   are   she   didn’t   even   know   she   was   leading   me   up   there.   But   there   we   were,   the   two   of   us,   with   me   following   behind   her   as   she   walked   ahead   of   me   angrily   with   arms   crossed.   I   seemed   to   have   touched   a   nerve.   The   candles   that   lined   the   hallway   seemed   to   make   her   dress   glow   in   the   darkened   halls   and   she   looked   the   image  of  a  ghost  storming  away  from  me.

“What   is   it   about   that   question   that   bothers   you,   Serena?”   my   voice   echoed   in   the   corridors,   catching   her   and   stopping   her   once   again.   We   had   paced  away  from  the  party  now.
All  that  was  around  us  were  windows  decorated   with   the   streaking   raindrops   of   the   outside   as   the   candlelight   gave   its   presence,   surrounding   us   in   their   incandescence   and   slight   warmth.   I   drew   beside   her,   lifting  my  hand  to  her  face.  When  I  did  so  she  flinched   with  a  gasp  as  if  expecting  a  punishing  blow  from  me.  I   could  see  then  that  the  husband  had  done  more  than   just   a   mental   taming   of   her.   She   slightly   turns   away   when  I  bring  my  hand  back  up  to  her.  I  feel  her  shiver   from   the   coldness   when   it   makes   contact.   Carefully   I   placed   it   on   her   cheek,   and   almost   instantly   I   felt   a   rush   of   pain   resonating   on   my   back   and   sides.   Pain   like   that   of   slaps   and   punches...slaps   and   punches   he   had  given  her  only  days  before.
“He   treats   you   like   an   animal   and   yet   you   still   stay   with   him.   Is   money   that   important   to   you,   Serena?”
Her   eyes   become   glassy   as   she   slaps   my   hand   down  from  her.  “You  have  no  idea  what  you’re  talking   about,”  She  says  in  an  angry  whisper.

From   downstairs   comes   the   loud   laughter   of   Andalas,  no  doubt  entertaining  the  crowd  below  with   some  wild  story.
“Tell  me,  what  don’t  I  understand,”  I  said  to  her   in  a  voice  just  as  quiet  as  hers.
“I   do   believe   your   tour   is   over,   madam,”   she   says  while  turning  back  to  head  toward  the  stairs.       “Tell   me,   Serena,   are   you   his   former   wife’s   daughter?”  She  became  a  statue,  freezing  in  her  tracks,   the   folds   of   her   gown   flowing   then   coming   to   a   halt   like  sails  of  a  boat  after  the  wind  has  fled  from  them.   That   was   the   first   time   I   had   some   kind   of   clear   look   into  the  mind  of  a  mortal.  For  a  slight  second  I  could   see   it   all   within   her,   reading   it   like   a   sad   novel,   and   then  it  was  gone.
“He   was   married   to   your   mother,   she   dies   and   he   chooses   you   to   take   her   place.   Is   he   your   true   father?”

She   turns   back   and   rushes   towards   me   with   arms  stiff  by  her  side  and  extreme  disgust  showing.       “NO,”  she  says,  keeping  her  voice  from  rising  to   a  level  to  be  heard  downstairs.
“Stepfather.  Well  at  least  it’s  not  that  sick.”       She’s   almost   running   as   she   approaches   now,   coming   within   an   inch   of   my   face,   her   eyes   full   of   anger   as   beneath   her   lips   her   teeth   grind   with   rage,   rage  she  had  been  holding  in  for  far  too  long.       “What   if   I   told   you   that   you   could   leave   all   of   this   behind,   Serena?   What   if   I   offered   to   help   you,   would  you  let  me?”
The   rage   in   her   eyes   slightly   faded,   replaced   with   that   of   intrigue.   I   could   tell   I   had   peaked   her   interest  at  that  point.
“I  could  never  leave  him,”  she  insisted.

I   took   her   by   the   hand   and   with   the   other   placed  the  glass  to  my  lips  and  finished  the  last  of  the   wine.  After  I’m  done,  I  lower  the  glass  again  and  hand   in   hand   we   walk.   The   fact   she   willingly   walked   with   me   now   showed   that   she   really   didn’t   want   to   stay   with  him.  If  so  she  would  never  entertain  the  thought   of  such  a  thing  like  leaving  him.  We  move  through  the   winding   corridors,   each   one   looking   like   the   other   in   the  dark  candlelit  night,  until  we  get  to  her  room.  As   soon  as  she  opens  the  door,  the  smell  of  vanilla  fills  my   lungs.  Her  room  was  a  reflection  of  her.

Solemn  and  dark,  with  only  a  couple  of  candles   lighting   the   spacious   place   and   a   fireplace   where   the   blue  and  orange  flames  had  begun  to  burn  itself  out.       “You  don’t  share  a  room  with  Andalas?”  I  ask.     “Sometimes   I   need   to   sleep   alone   in   bed,”   she   answers  softly,  “Usually  I  wait  until  he’s  asleep  beside   me  in  our  room  before  I  come  in  here  to  sleep.”       Beside  the  fire  was  a  lone  chair,  no  doubt  where   she  had  spent  many  nights  crying  in  misery  about  her   situation.  I  lead  her  there  and  motioned  for  her  to  sit.   She  did  so,  sitting  at  the  edge  with  back  straight,  knees   together   and   hands   resting   on   them.   The   perfectly   chased  woman.

I   threw   the   empty   glass   I   had   been   tiring   of   carrying   into   the   fire   and   watched   the   shards   of   it   become  one  with  the  flames.  She  looked  up  at  me,  her   eyes  slightly  wide  as  the  little  ringlets  of  hair  swung  in   and  out  of  view  of  them.
“Tell  me,”  I  start,  “What  does  he  let  you  do?”       Serena  shakes  her  head,  “I-‐I  don’t  understand.”       “What  freedoms  does  he  allow  you  to  have?”       “I...  don’t  know.”
“If   you   can’t   think   of   any   it’s   probably   because   you  have  none.  Doesn’t  he  let  you  do  anything?”       “Only  what  he  wants  me  to  do.”
“And  what  does  he  want  you  to  do  most  of  the   time?”
She   hesitates   as   once   again   her   head   lowers   to   the  floor.  Her  hands  come  together  to  form  a  nervous   ball  that  bounces  up  and  down  on  her  knees.  From  her   I  felt  a  deep  resentment  and  hatred  for  him.       “I  can’t  really  discuss  this  with  you.”
“Why?  Is  it  that  bad,  Serena?”
I  felt  her  emotions  break,  and  slowly  tears  finally   fall   from   her   eyes   as   the   dying   flames   of   the   fireplace   give  highlights  to  glowing  streams  of  silver  white  running   down  her  face  and  crashing  to  the  floor.

Slowly   she   gathers   herself,   wiping   the   tears   away   fast   as   she   can,   as   if   they’re   only   for   her   own   viewing.
“He  makes  me...makes  me  do  things  with  other   women.   Whores   who   come   at   his   beck   and   call.   Watches   them,   watches   us   do   things   I   don’t   want   to   do.  Most  of  the  time  he  just  watches.  Sometimes,  he’ll   join.  And  all  the  time  I’m  dying  inside,  but  I  don’t  dare   let   it   show.   If   I   let   it   show   he   will   beat   me.   So   I   go   along.   Pretend   to   show   that   it   feels   good   while   his   whores  use  me.”
She   buries   her   head   in   her   hands,   letting   go   with  her  emotion,  the  pain  of  it  all  finally  surfacing.  As   the  raindrops  ran  down  the  windowpanes  of  the  room   so   did   the   tears   of   Serena   roll   down   her   face,   sprinkling   the   floor   in   little   dots   of   pain   and   sorrow.   For  the  first  time  in  years  I  felt  something  I  hadn’t  felt   for   another   living   being…compassion.   I   knelt   to   her   level  and  placed  my  hands  on  her  knees.
“I   could   take   you   away   from   all   of   this.   You   could   come   with   me,   become   what   I   am   and   never   worry  about  these  things  again.”
She   lifts   her   head   from   out   of   her   hands,   the   tips  of  her  fingers  touching  her  mouth  as  the  remnant   of  tear  streams  still  lined  her  face.
“Become  what  you  are?”
I  took  her  hand  and  held  it  gently,  all  the  while   looking  her  in  the  eyes  that  were  red  and  raw.       “I   can   take   you   away   from   all   this,   if   you   want   me   to.   I   could   promise   you   everything   you’ve   ever   wanted.   Everything   you’ve   ever   dreamed   of,   all   your   heart’s  wants  brought  to  light.”
Through   the   sadness   she   manages   a   laugh,   again   shaking   her   head.   “No   one   could   do   that.   Not   you.  No  one.  How  could  you?”
“Do  you  want  that  chance,  Serena?  Would  you   like   to   leave   him   behind?   Would   you   like   to   venture   out   in   the   world   that   is   waiting   for   you?   To   see   what   all   you’ve   been   missing,   what   you’ll   be   missing   if   you   stay  with  him?”

For  a  long  time  she  stared  at  me  unwaveringly,   seeing  if  I  was  truly  the  mad  woman  she  thought  I  was.   Who  was  I  to  offer  such  things?  How  could  I?  Neither   of   us   said   a   thing   as   we   both   remained   there,   seemingly   frozen   in   time   as   we   stared   at   one   another   with  the  crackling  of  what  flames  that  were  left  in  the   fireplace  to  play  as  our  soundtrack  to  the  moment.       “I  do  so  want  to  leave  this  place.  Leave  him,  his   sick   needs,   this   manor,   these   memories   that   fill   this   place  and  haunt  my  every  waking  moment.  But  I  can’t.   I   wouldn’t   know   how   to   live   out   there.   This   is   all   I   know.”
“Come   with   me,   Serena,   and   I   promise   you,   survival  won’t  be  a  worry  for  you.”
Again   a   laugh,   a   nervous   laugh   full   of   fleeting   hopes  and  doubt  as  she  jumps  from  her  chair  and  over   to   her   bed,   pacing   beside   it,   all   the   fears   and   second   thoughts  taking  over.
“Madness,”   she   says   through   a   twisted   grin.   “This   is   just   madness.   What   could   you   possibly   offer   that   is   so   great?   So   grand   and   amazing?   I   don’t   even   know   you.   How   could   I   know   to   trust   you?   Besides,   Andalas  would  never  let  me  leave.”
“In  the  end,”  I  say  as  I  fold  my  arms  and  take  a   couple  steps  toward  her,  “trust  is  all  you  can  ever  have   of  anyone.  Without  that  you  are  doomed  to  be  weary   of  all  you  encounter.  Your  weariness  of  me  will  doom   you  for  sure  by  keeping  you  here  with  him.  If  it’s  your   worry   over   Andalas   letting   you   leave   that’s   stopping   you,  I  can  assure  you,  I’ll  see  to  it  he’ll  let  you  go.”

Chapter 5

That  night  I  left  her  with  directions  to  meet  me   after  Andalas  had  fallen  asleep.  In  my  mind  I  started  a   plan  to  get  her  freedom  from  him.  I  could  sense  from   Andalas   that   he   had   found   an   interest   in   me.   The   man’s  loyalty  to  his  wife  was  as  limited  as  his  options,   and   I   would   use   this   to   my   advantage.   The   following   nights   I   would   come   to   the   manor   and   together   we   met   in   secret.   While   she   still   showed   more   than   enough   doubt   in   me   we   devised   a   plan,   although   the   final  part  of  it  I  would  withhold  from  her.  I  would  have   to  or  she  would  never  go  along  with  it.  A  week  passed,   and   on   a   cool   fall   evening,   as   the   wind   blew   gently   across  the  landscape  of  the  sleepy  land  that  the  manor   stood  upon,  I  approached  with  plan  in  place.  The  blues   of  the  sky  had  turned  to  a  deep  black  with  some  of  the   first  stars  of  the  evening  peering  out  through  the  light   overcast   of   clouds   that   flew   overhead.   The   sound   of   my  feet  stepping  on  small  stones  and  rocks  that  led  up   to  the  two  large  wooden  doors  of  the  manor  gave  away   my  presence  to  one  of  the  servants  waiting  there.  The   doors  slowly  opened  as  an  old  woman  stood  behind  it,   half   of   her   face   obscured   by   the   door   while   the   other   half,  with  graying  eyes,  stared  back  at  me  along  with  a   smile.  I  made  my  way  in  and  realized  just  how  big  the   manor  was  when  there  wasn’t  an  assemblage  of  people   inside  of  it.
“The   master   is   expecting   you,”   the   old   woman   says  as  she  led  me  to  the  master  dining  room.

Serena   had   told   Andalas   that   I   had   a   fondness   for  him.  This  immediately  peeked  his  interest.  He  sent   word   that   he   wanted   me   to   join   him   and   his   lovely   young   wife   for   dinner.   So   far   everything   that   I   knew   would   happen   unfolded   without   a   hitch.   Serena   said   the  servants  would  retire  for  the  evening  an  hour  after   nightfall.  All  I  had  to  do  now  was  wait  for  his  servants   to  leave  before  the  full  plan  could  be  enacted.     I  entered  the  dining  room  and  found  that  it  was   as   big   as   a   main   hall   of   a   cathedral.   And   this   is   what   they   called   a   small   manor.   I   stepped   into   the   room   where   a   table,   long,   wooden   and   newly   polished,   awaited   as   Serena   and   Andalas   sat.   Serena   sat   in   the   middle   on   the   side   with   just   a   humble   white   dress,   while  Andalas,  in  all  of  his  wanted  grandeur,  sat  at  the   head   in   a   polished   cloak   and   red   vest.   I   removed   my   coat,   revealing   a   low-‐cut,   strapless,   formfitting   red   gown.  Andalas’  eyes  widened  for  a  split  second  before   composing  himself.  I  could  read  him,  his  sick  thoughts   towards  me,  what  he  had  planned  and  what  he  wanted   me  to  do  to  him,  to  his  wife,  to  the  both  of  them.  All   the   while,   I   smiled   at   him,   only   making   minimal   contact  with  Serena;  afraid  if  I  looked  at  her  too  much   she  might  just  have  second  thoughts.
If  she  panicked  now  all  would  be  lost.  On  both   sides  of  the  room  were  two  giant  windows  that  looked   down  on  us,  letting  the  night  peek  in  while  the  curved   domed   ceiling   hid   from   the   warm,   yellow   glow   of   candle  light.  Candles  were  lined  along  the  walls  and  on   the   table,   sitting   in   golden   holders   that   seemed   to   reflect   everything   around   them   clearly.   The   candles   kept  a  nice  and  wide  presence  in  the  room,  their  light   touching   most   of   what   wasn’t   high   above   us.   From   that   light   I   could   look   into   Andalas’   cold,   hazel   eyes   and  see  all  the  thoughts  that  went  on  behind  them.       “I   trust   your   journey   was   fine,   my   dear?”   He   asked   as   his   servants   placed   a   plate   of   some   kind   of   fish  in  front  of  me.
I   nodded   yes,   stealing   a   quick   peek   to   see   Serena   with   her   head   down,   eyes   locked   on   the   table   while  keeping  her  hands  in  her  lap,  acting  as  if  she  was   terrified  she  might  give  away  the  plan  if  she  looked  at   me.
“Serena,”   Andalas   said   scornfully   toward   her,   “Where   are   your   manners?   You   didn’t   even   welcome   our  guest.”
“Oh,”  she  says,  her  voice  low  and  timid,  with  a   hint   of   fright   I   detected   in   it.   “Forgive   me.   Welcome   Li-‐”  She  catches  herself,  her  mouth  gaped  open  as  her   face  turns  pale  like  the  blood  had  left  it  instantly.  “I-‐I   mean,  Elizabeth.”
I  quickly  turn  my  eyes  on  Andalas  and  see  him   look   towards   her,   the   questioning   and   wonder   in   his   face   as   his   lips   tightened   and   eyes   narrowed   just   slightly   showing   the   lines   of   his   age.   White   wine   poured  from  the  servant’s  bottle  besides  me,  splashing   inside  the  glass,  a  sprinkle  of  it  hitting  my  bottom  lip.   With  the  tip  of  my  tongue  I  removed  the  sprinkle  with   my  eyes  still  focused  on  Andalas.

Whatever   questions   he   had   towards   Serena’s   nervousness   soon   vanished,   replaced   by   a   smile   showing   teeth   that   were   chipped   and   crooked.   Minutes   later   the   three   us   sat   eating   the   meal,   while   Andalas  and  I  did  the  talking,  Serena  spent  most  of  the   time  slowly  taking  small  bites  from  her  plate,  her  head   still   down,   refusing   to   look   at   me   anymore.   I   could   sense  the  fear  she  had  within  her,  sense  it  boiling  over   like  water  in  a  heated  pot.  I  went  on,  trying  not  to  pay   it  any  attention.  Andalas  and  I  locked  eyes,  engaged  in   trivial   conversation   on   this   and   that.   The   state   of   affairs   and   the   state   of   England,   nothing   really   worthwhile,   just   idle   chatter   that   meant   nothing   to   either   of   us.   Finally   the   old   woman   who   had   let   me   into  the  manor  appeared  in  the  doorway  of  the  dining   room  announcing  that  she  and  the  rest  of  the  servants   were   retiring   for   the   night.   With   a   ginger   nod   he   excused   her   from   his   sight   and   duties.   Now   the   plan   could  go  into  full  effect.  I  caught  Serena  staring  at  me   from  out  the  corner  of  her  eye.  She  knew  it  was  time,   and   I   could   sense   her   heart   start   to   race.   I   slid   the   plate   of   the   half   eaten   meal   out   in   front   of   me   while   leaning  back  in  my  chair.
“Certainly   a   wonderful   meal,   Andalas,”   I   said.   “You   have   to   thank   your   servants   on   my   behalf   when   you  see  them  again.”
With  a  half  smile  of  pride  as  if  he  were  the  one   to   have   slaved   over   the   preparation   of   the   dinner,   he   raised  his  glass  of  wine  that  still  had  little  more  than  a   swallow  left  inside.
“I   shall   do   that,   my   dear   Elizabeth,”   he   said.   “Come,  let  us  take  our  leave  of  this  place,  I  think  we’ve   all  had  our  fill  for  the  night,  don’t  you?”
I  nodded,  thinking  to  myself,  if  he  only  knew.

Serena  quietly  pushed  her  chair  from  the  table   and  stood,  her  form  like  that  of  a  statue  struggling  to   move  as  she  stiffly  picked  up  the  plates  from  the  table,   starting  with  his  then  coming  down  to  my  side.  As  she   lifted   my   plate   I   could   see   her   arm   tremble   beneath   the   long   coverings   of   the   gown   she   wore.   The   poor   thing   was   getting   more   and   more   terrified   by   the   minute.   How   she   managed   to   keep   it   from   her   husband   still   escapes   me.   After   she   disappeared   to   dispose  of  the  plates,  Andalas  rose  from  his  seat,  glass   of   his   unfinished   wine   still   in   his   hand.   Slowly   he   made   his   way   to   me,   his   shadow   thrown   by   the   candlelight   growing   on   the   walls   as   he   approached.   With  hand  extended  he  took  mine  and  lifted  me  from   my  chair.
“Come   this   way,”   he   started.   “Serena   will   meet   us  soon  enough.”
He   led   me   out   of   the   dining   room   while   I   looked  for  Serena.  No  sign.  “And  where,  pray  tell,  shall   we  meet  Serena?”  I  asked.
With   a   smile   that   showed   he   was   hiding   something   he   merely   shook   his   head.   “You   shall   see   soon  enough.”
But   I   knew   what   he   had   planned   and   counted   on   it.   We   walked   towards   the   steps   that   led   to   the   upstairs   chambers   but   stopped   just   short   of   the   first   one.   He   turned   to   me,   the   grip   he   had   on   my   hand   tightened  a  bit  as  he  stared  at  me,  as  if  in  a  trance,  his   eyes   traced   every   feature   of   my   face,   taking   it   in   and   studying   it   like   an   artist   studying   a   model   he   would   sketch.   In   a   low   voice   that   had   a   hint   of   seduction   to   it,  he  took  his  free  hand  and  with  the  back  of  it  ran  it   down  the  side  of  my  face,  the  warmth  of  it,  the  blood   and  life  that  ran  through  it  stirred  my  thirst.       “You  truly  are  a  spectacular  creature,”  he  says  in   a  whisper.
“And   what   of   your   wife,   Andalas?   What   would   she  say  about  such  a  compliment  towards  me?”       Again   the   grin   returns   to   his   face   before   he   leads  me  up  the  stairs.

Slowly   we   ascend   them,   the   soft   glow   of   the   candles  that  lined  the  way  up  bounced  off  of  our  skin,   and   in   that   light   you   could   see   what   kind   of   man   he   once   was   in   his   youth.   The   soft   lighting   gave   hints   about   him   by   removing   some   of   the   wrinkles   and   other  ravages  of  aging  that  normal  light  was  more  than   happy   to   show.   Hard   as   it   was   to   believe,   he   actually   looked   as   if   he   could   have   been   very   attractive   in   his   prime.
“Serena  told  me  that  you  have  a  liking  for  me,”   he  says.
I   try   to   act   shocked   as   I   come   to   a   standstill   before  we  reach  the  top  step.
“What?”
“Oh,  it’s  quite  alright,  Elizabeth.  No  need  to  feel   embarrassed.”
I  lower  my  head  from  him,  making  sure  to  give   a  shy  smile  before  it  fades  from  his  view.
“The  feeling,  Elizabeth,  is  mutual.”
A   quick   raised   head   on   my   part   to   show   satisfaction   and   surprise   by   what   he   said.   My   acting   job   to   this   point   was   convincing   enough   to   the   old   man.   Of   course   he   was   convinced,   he   couldn’t   see   anything  past  his  own  needs  and  desires  at  that  point,   and   what   he   thought   he   would   get   before   the   night   was  done.

We   began   our   trek   again,   moving   down   the   long   halls   until   we   reached   two   doors.   The   smell   of   vanilla   poured   from   behind   them.   He   let   go   my   hand   and  opened  both  doors  at  once.  When  he  did,  what  I   saw   behind   them   was   enough   to   cause   me   to   slightly   drop  my  jaw.  I  knew  what  awaited,  but  seeing  it  there   with  my  own  eyes  still  brought  some  amazement.  The   master   bedroom   of   the   manor   was   lavish   and   decadent.   A   silver-‐white   marble   floor   lay   out   in   front   of  me  as  we  entered.  Snow  white  walls  and  old  wooden   furnishings  decorated  the  room  with  candles  placed  all   around,  lighting  it  in  a  golden  hue.

Centered   in   the   middle   of   it   all   was   Serena,   sitting   up,   placed   in   the   center   of   a   king-‐size   bed   where  a  cream  colored  canopy  rested  above  and  sheer   white   shades   dropped   from   it,   surrounding   the   entire   bed.   She   sat   there,   such   a   beautiful   sight,   completely   naked   with   only   white   sheets   from   off   the   bed   wrapped   around   her   for   cover.   They   were   held   tight   against  her  in  a  ball  covering  most  of  her  body  as  milk   colored   thighs   that   crossed   each   other   and   shoulders   managed  to  peek  out  from  them.
She   had   let   her   hair   down   and   it   fell   in   waves   around   her   like   an   auburn   waterfall,   covering   every   inch   of   her   upper   back   while   parts   and   strands   went   forward,   dangling   around   her   neck   and   chest,   slowly   moving  side  to  side  as  she  peeked  up  at  me  with  eyes   that  seemed  to  glow  an  ocean  blue,  standing  out  in  the   sea  of  white  that  surrounded  her.

She   looked   amazing   to   me   with   all   the   light   from   the   candles   seemingly   bathing   her   in   a   Preternatural   glow,   like   that   of   a   fallen   angel   waiting   for   redemption.   Behind   me   I   heard   the   doors   close,   but   I   continued   to   stare   at   her,   I   continued   to   stare   despite  feeling  the  hot  breath  of  Andalas  on  the  back   of   my   neck.   His   rough   and   chaffed   lips   played   kisses   down  my  back.

I   could   feel   his   aging   hands   around   my   waist,   working   their   way   up   and   down   as   they   drew   me   closer  to  him.  Slowly  his  kisses  found  their  way  to  the   sides   of   my   neck;   there   he   worked   his   way   up   and   down  slowly  cupping  his  hands  around  my  breasts.  All   this,  and  I  paid  no  attention  to  him.  The  only  thing  I   had   any   interest   in   at   that   moment   was   Serena   as   we   kept   ours   eyes   locked   on   each   other.   So   caught   up   in   the  moment  with  her  was  I  that  I  didn’t  notice  that  my   dress  had  left  me  until  I  felt  it  as  a  pile  of  cloth  at  my   feet.   There   I   stood   with   just   my   corsage   that   Andalas   was   prying   off   of   me   as   fast   as   his   old   and   trembling   hands   would   will   it.   And   once   that   too   left   me   I   was   bare   to   everyone   and   everything   around   me.   In   a   whisper  I  heard  him  say  to  me,  “take  her.”

With   a   gentle   push   forward   from   him   I   made   my  way  over  to  where  she  sat,  entering  the  shades  and   sliding  into  bed  with  her,  placing  my  left  hand  on  her   right  thigh  as  the  other  went  to  her  face,  lifting  it  and   turning   it   towards   me.   She   looked   at   me   with   those   blue  eyes  of  hers,  a  mix  of  terror  and  calm,  at  the  same   time   intrigue   at   what   awaited   at   the   next   moment.   I   could  sense  from  her  that  she  didn’t  view  me  as  one  of   the   many   whores   she   had   been   with   before.   She   viewed  me  as  something  else,  ready  and  willing  to  do   with   me   whatever   we   wanted   and   waited   with   anticipation   as   to   what   we   would   do.   I   ran   my   finger   down   the   side   of   her   face,   ending   its   journey   at   her   lips.   They   were   pursed   and   warm   as   I   ran   my   other   hand   up   her   thigh.   She   jumped   from   the   coldness   of   my   hand   as   it   disappeared   beneath   the   sheets   that   covered   her.   Andalas   sat   down   in   a   chair   besides   the   bed  and  looked  on  at  the  two  of  us.  His  hands  cupped,   bringing  them  to  his  mouth  and  breathing  into  them,   concealing   the   smile   I   knew   he   had   behind   them.   Beside   him   was   a   freshly   chilled   bottle   of   wine   that   Serena  had  brought  up.  That,  she  thought,  was  part  of   the  plan.
I  leaned  into  her,  placing  a  soft  kiss  on  her  neck   and   felt   her   shiver   from   both   the   sudden   chill   of   my   lips   on   her   and   my   hand   finding   its   way   between   her   legs.   The   hand   on   her   face   went   to   the   small   of   her   back   where   the   tips   of   my   finger   nails   ran   up   and   down,   feeling   every   muscle   in   her   body   tense   and   buckle  as  my  kisses  ran  down  to  her  chest,  causing  her   to   let   go   the   ball   of   sheets   that   had   covered   her,   revealing   her   entire   body   to   me.   Her   skin   was   so   soft   and   so   warm;   through   it   I   felt   every   ounce   of   tension   slowly  leave  her.  My  other  hand  caressed  her  between   her  legs  until  I  felt  the  moistness  between  them,  then  I   began   to   draw   them   in   and   out   to   the   rhythm   of   her   breathing.   It   was   heavy   and   course   with   a   mixture   of   low   moans.   She   took   her   hands   and   placed   them   on   me,   picking   my   head   up   and   sending   me   in   a   rush   towards  her  mouth.

Our   lips   met   and   in   that   instant,   all   the   fear,   nervousness  and  second  thoughts  she  had  were  gone.  I   felt   her   body   relax   and   all   the   anxiousness   within   it   vanquished.  She  fell  back  onto  the  bed,  taking  me  with   her.  I  lay  on  top  of  her  staring  into  her  eyes.  We  were   together;  almost  unaware  that  Andalas  was  looking  at   us  from  the  side.  I  sprinkled  kisses  on  her  from  her  lips   to   her   chest   to   her   breast   to   her   abdomen   and   up   again.  Our  bodies  moved  against  each  other  in  rhythm   with   the   sound   of   our   breathing   playing   as   the   soundtrack   to   our   actions.   I   could   feel   the   slight   shivers   of   both   the   pleasure   she   was   feeling   and   the   coolness   of   me   echo   within   my   body.   My   eyes   stayed   locked  with  hers  through  the  auburn  strands  that  were   scattered   about   her   face.   Her   eyes   stayed   focused   on   mine,   unwavering,   following   my   expressions   as   I   looked  at  her.  We  spoke  to  one  another  without  saying   a  word.  Our  hands  ran  the  gambit  of  motions  over  the   other’s  body,  hers  caressing  every  part  of  me,  from  my   face  to  my  shoulders  to  my  back,  thighs,  and  between   my  legs.
Her  fingers,  smooth  and  soft  like  silken  gloves,   ran  up  and  down  to  the  back  and  front  of  me.  I  slowly   pried   the   auburn   hair   from   her   eyes   so   I   could   stare   into  them  clearly  as  my  other  hand  held  her  in  intense   ecstasy  as  I  felt  her  legs  close  around  it  while  her  hips   raised   forward   and   up,   lifting   both   her   and   I   off   the   bed.  Her  arms  were  wrapped  around  me  now,  holding   her   body   to   mine   so   I   could   feel   every   tremor,   every   constriction   and   release   so   that   the   pleasure   I   had   given  her  would  resonate  in  my  body  also.

Her   bottom   lip   vanished   behind   the   front   top   teeth   as   she   bit   down,   the   sound   of   a   pleasure   filled   pant   escaping   from   her   as   again   and   again   she   sunk   into  then  rose  from  the  mattress,  each  time  seemingly   higher   than   before   until   finally   she   rises   from   off   the   bed  with  me  still  partly  on  top  of  her.  As  she  does  she   freezes,  her  hands  and  arms  locked  around  me,  mouth   open,   taking   short,   sharp   breaths;   but   throughout   all   of   it,   she   never   took   her   eyes   from   mine.   And   for   a   brief   moment   we   were   lost   to   each   other,   lost   in   our   own   world   together.   Then   she   slowly   fell   again   into   the  bed  like  a  feather  falling  to  the  ground,  softly,  with   barely   any   kind   of   rustle.   Her   body   went   limp   and   melted   into   the   mattress   as   one   long   breath   of   relief   floated   from   her   open   mouth   while   her   arms,   that   once   held   a   vice   like   grip   around   me,   slowly   slid   off   and   fell   out   to   her   sides.   I   brought   my   hand   from   between   her   thighs   and   slowly   moved   it   up   her   body   that   was   drenched   with   sweat,   the   back   of   it   gliding   over  the  contours  of  her  stomach  to  her  chest,  where  it   rose  to  meet  my  hand,  shivered  and  heaved,  then  fell;   and  I  felt  the  pounding  of  her  heart  beneath  it.
I  leaned  in  and  kissed  her  on  the  lips  where  the   warm  breath  of  her  awaited  and  passed  over  me  like  a   soft  spring’s  breeze.  To  the  side  I  could  hear  the  slow   breaths  seep  from  Andalas  while  he  held  a  newly  filled   glass   of   wine   in   his   hand.   Serena   turned   her   head   to   the   side,   away   from   him   and   took   my   hand   in   hers.   I   looked  over  to  where  he  sat  catching  the  glimmer  of  a   sick  and  wanting  need  fulfilled  to  a  point.  He  wanted   to   join   us   but   was   waiting   for   the   right   time.   I   gave   him   a   glance,   showing   a   smile   that   told   him   his   wait   was   almost   over.   Then   I   moved   down   beneath   the   covers   where   Serena’s   thighs   were.   What   a   sight   it   must’ve  been  to  him,  seeing  his  wife  suddenly  tense  up   with  a  sheer  look  that  mixed  pain  and  pleasure.

From  beneath  the  cover  I  heard  her  give  a  high   gasp,  sounding  like  someone  had  taken  the  air  out  of   the  room,  robbing  her  of  her  breath.  For  some  untold   number   of   seconds   her   entire   body   became   stiff   as   a   board  before  finally  relaxing  again.  It  wouldn’t  be  long   before   Andalas   would   notice   the   sudden   paleness   of   his   wife.   I   had   to   act   quickly.   I   crept   from   the   sheets   and  made  my  way  to  Serena’s  face  again.  There  I  took   her   and   placed   a   soft   kiss   upon   her   lips,   drew   back,   and   went   in   again.   This   time   though,   I   pierced   my   bottom   lip   creating   a   huge   gash   where   more   than   enough   blood   would   run   from   it.   I   kissed   her   again,   deep   and   slow   while   holding   her   head   against   mine,   making  sure  she  would  swallow  all  of  the  eternal  life  I   could  give  her.  Somehow,  instinctively  I  knew  when  to   stop  and  let  her  go.  Her  head  fell  back  on  the  bed,  all   the   life   in   her   blue   eyes   drained   from   her,   placing   a   dead  stare  at  me  as  a  lone  drop  of  my  blood  found  its   way  to  the  corner  of  her  mouth.  I  could  feel  her  heart   stop,   and   I   just   watched.   Watched   as   she   seemed   frozen,  unmoving  like  a  statue.
Was   that   what   I   looked   like   to   Mical   when   he   did   the   same   to   me?   Then   without   warning   she   exhaled,  took  in  a  deep  breath  and  exhaled  again.  She   began   to   tremble,   and   I   quickly   placed   my   hands   on   her   face,   giving   her   a   smile   to   let   her   know   she   was   fine.  In  her  eyes  though,  I  saw  it  all.  I  saw  exactly  what   she  was  thinking  and  feeling.  What  had  I  done  to  her?   What  had  she  become?  Why  did  she  feel  so  different?   In  her  eyes  I  saw  and  felt  all  the  things  I  had  felt  at  the   moment  I  had  became  what  I  am  now  all  those  years   back.  I  sensed  Andalas  wondering  what  was  happening   and  knew  the  time  had  come.  Slowly  I  rose  from  off  of   Serena,  getting  on  hands  and  knees,  I  reached  for  him,   grabbing  him  by  the  collar  and  dragging  him  from  his   seat.   The   glass   of   wine   fell   from   his   hand   and   hit   the   floor.

From  the  corner  of  my  eyes  I  could  see  Serena   not   even   bothering   to   move.   Andalas   took   his   hands   and  placed  them  on  my  shoulders,  gracing  me  with  a   smile   of   anticipation,   like   a   child   before   opening   his   gifts   on   Christmas   day.   I   lay   down   beside   Serena,   bringing   the   old   man   on   top   of   me   and   kissed   him   from   the   chest   up   while   letting   the   tips   of   my   nails   gently   play   at   the   back   of   his   neck   before   bringing   them   to   the   front.   His   hands   were   all   over   me,   constantly   moving,   never   lingering   on   one   spot   for   more  than  a  few  moments.
I  took  my  fingers  and  placed  them  beneath  his   jaw,  lifting  his  head  seeing  all  the  lines  that  time  had   left  behind.  There  still  was  his  smile,  and  as  I  brought   my  hand  down  to  his  neck,  feeling  the  jugular  beneath   it,  he  kept  that  smile.

I   returned   his   smile   with   one   of   my   own   right   when  my  nails  ripped  through  the  skin  and  severed  his   jugular.   Red   ran   over   the   white   sheets   like   a   flood,   cascading   on   both   Serena   and   me   as   it   shot   in   multi-‐ streams,   spraying   the   walls   and   bed,   even   extinguishing   some   of   the   candles   that   surrounded   us.   Andalas’   smile   had   now   turned   to   a   twisted   frown,   a   grimace   punctuated   by   clinched   teeth   and   bulging   eyes,   accompanied  with  a  gargling  scream.  It  would  do  him   no   good.   His   scream   was   barely   a   whisper.   I   quickly   placed  my  mouth  over  the  streams  of  blood  and  took   in  a  fair  share  before  pulling  back.  The  blood  started  to   trickle  now,  soon  it  would  be  gone,  most  of  it  wasting   away  on  the  floor  and  bed  and  us.

I   looked   into   Serena’s   eyes,   which   were   wide   with  horror,  the  likes  of  which  I’ve  never  seen,  even  in   the  prey  I’ve  had.  Without  saying  a  word  I  grabbed  her   and  shoved  her  head  to  his  throat.  I  felt  her  try  with  all   her  strength  to  push  away  from  him.  Soon  she  stopped   and  began  draining  what  blood  was  left  of  the  old  man   until  he  became  as  white  as  the  sheets  of  the  bed  that   weren’t   drenched   in   blood.   When   she   was   done   I   let   her  go  and  she  slowly  pulled  away  on  her  own.  Serena   fell  back  onto  the  bed  with  eyes  closed  and  a  face  full   of   blood,   some   of   which   had   gotten   into   her   hair,   dampening   the   ends   as   they   clung   to   her   shoulders   leaving  crimson  streaks  when  they  moved.
I  dropped  what  was  left  of  the  old  man  on  the   floor   and   watched   him   land   like   a   puppet   whose   strings  had  been  cut.  Arms  and  legs  sprawled  out,  skin   a  ghostly  pale  while,  his  eyes  and  face  were  locked  in   that   last   moment   of   life   that   he   had.   I   laughed   at   the   sight.   Don’t   know   why.   It   struck   me   as   funny.   I   removed  the  blood  stained  cover  that  lay  at  the  foot  of   the  bed  and  placed  it  over  him,  turning  back  to  Serena   in  time  to  see  the  bite  marks  I  left  on  her  inner  thigh   where   I   drained   her   disappear.   My   eyes   traced   her   body   to   her   face   where   she   stared   dazed   into   the   air,   half   out   of   it,   not   fully   understanding   what   had   happened.

I   lay   down   besides   her,   wiping   away   the   trace   lines   of   blood   that   decorated   her   face.   When   the   tips   of   my   fingers   touched   her   now   ice   cold   skin,   she   jumped  back  to  reality,  out  of  the  dreamland  she  had   apparently  been  in.
“What-‐what   did   you   do   to   me?”   Her   voice   was   trembling   with   fear   and   unknowing,   much   like   mine   when  I  had  been  reborn.  “What  did  you  do  to  me?”       She   began   to   scream   as   her   body   shook   from   it’s  new  state  of  life,  the  cold  sensation  finally  working   its   way   up   her   spine   where   it   would   rest   inside   her   chest   for   a   few   minutes   where   a   deathly   chill   would   stay,   before   it   would   leave   and   the   normal   sensations   of  warmth  would  once  again  reign.
“I-‐I  drank  his  blood!  I-‐”
“Shhhhh,”   I   told   her   placing   my   finger   to   her   mouth.  “You’re  alright.”
“No!  I’m  not  alright,”  she  objected.
I  could  feel  her  try  and  push  me  off  of  her,  but   in   her   state   she   was   nowhere   near   strong   enough.   I   held   her   arms   down   and   waited   for   her   to   stop   her   tantrum   before   I   spoke.   When   she   was   finished-‐   “Are   you  done?”  I  asked.
Her  breath  was  panicked,  strong  and  fast  like  a   spring  storm.  If  her  heart  still  beat,  it  would  be  racing   like  a  rabbit  by  now.
“Serena,   I’ve   given   you   everything   that   you’ve   wanted.   You   are   free   of   the   chains   that   bound   you   to   Andalas,  of  the  limitations  that  life  had  placed  on  you.   Now  you  can  do  any  and  everything  you’ve  wanted  to.   Everything  you  knew  no  longer  matters,  and  I’ll  teach   you  everything  you  need  to  know.  Together  we’ll-‐”       “WHAT  DID  YOU  DO  TO  ME?”
Her   screams   were   ear   piercing.   I   placed   my   hand   over   her   mouth.   I   couldn’t   let   her   stir   the   servants  awake.  It  was  then  I  knew  she  was  much,  too   much   like   me   at   that   point   in   time,   when   I   become   what  I  am.  She  wouldn’t  listen  to  anything  I  said  to  her   now.  I  would  have  to  wait  for  the  shock  to  sink  in  and   for  reality  to  actually  hit.
I  let  go  of  her  and  she  wasted  no  time  pushing   me  off,  leaping  from  the  bed  and  covering  herself  with   the  remaining  sheets.
“What  are  you?”  She  asked  demandingly.  “What   are  you?  Truly,  you  can’t  be  human?”
With   a   subtle   smile   I   looked   down   on   myself,   seeing   the   blood   of   Andalas   staining   my   body,   beginning  to  dry  while  most  of  it  pooled  on  the  bed.  I   could   feel   her   staring   at   me,   waiting   for   an   answer,   needing  an  answer.  So  I  gave  her  one.  Not  bothering  to   look  her  in  the  eyes,  I  gave  her  the  answer  she  sought.       “You  are  now  as  I  am.  You  are  a...Vampire.”       I   was   expecting   to   hear   the   same   maniacal   laughter  I  had  laughed  all  those  years  ago  back  in  the   cave   when   Mical   told   me   what   I   was.   I   had   prepared   myself  for  her  to  take  her  leave  of  me  in  that  instant.   Instead  she  did  the  one  thing  I  hadn’t  expected  her  to   do-‐nothing.   I   could   hear   her   breathing   calm,   but   I   knew  what  I  had  said  affected  her.  I  looked  up  at  her,   seeing  she  was  doing  what  I  had  done  seconds  before,   scanning   her   body   for   the   drying   blood   that   had   painted  her  skin.
She  kept  the  sheets  around  her,  clinging    to  her   top   as   the   rest   fell   about   her   legs,   forming   a   train   behind  her  feet  as  she  moved  to  where  Andalas’  body   was.   She   rounded   the   bed   and   looked   down   at   the   bloody   cover   that   was   now   soaked   through,   showing   the   partial   outline   of   the   horrific   image   of   his   face   caught   in   that   final   look   of   death.   She   didn’t   say   anything,  just  stared  at  the  image  as  if  expecting  it  to   change   before   her   like   some   dream.   But   it   didn’t,   it   wouldn’t.   That’s   when   it   hit   her   that   her   life   had   indeed   changed.   For   better   or   worse   she   wasn’t   sure   then,  but  she  knew  she  had  a  second  chance  now.  No   longer  was  she  condemned  to  be  the  young  wife  of  an   old  man  to  use  and  abuse  as  he  saw  fit.  No  longer  did   the  rules  of  life,  of  mortal  life,  apply  to  her.

In   some   way   I   could   sense   from   her   she   knew   this,  and  I  knew  she  needed  me  to  help  her.       “You   do   understand   now,   don’t   you   Serena?”   I   asked  her  in  a  whisper.
She   remained   staring   down,   frozen   like   a   statue.   I   rose   from   the   bed   and   moved   to   her,   taking   her   hand   and   leading   her   away   from   the   remains   of   her  husband  to  the  foot  of  the  bed  where  I  placed  my   free  hand  beneath  her  chin  and  forced  her  to  look  me   in  my  eyes.
Again   I   asked,   “You   do   understand,   don’t   you,   Serena?  You  do  understand  why  I  did  what  I  did?”       No   answer,   just   a   blank   stare.   I   could   sense   nothing   from   her   as   if   she   was   only   a   shell   and   whatever  it  had  been  that  made  her  what  she  was  had   now  vanished.  I  placed  my  fingers  on  her  face,  guiding   them  over  the  edges,  tracing  her  lips  and  eyes  hoping   she   could   hear   me   through   whatever   she   was   going   through.
Finally  she  did  speak,  “You  said  nothing  of  this,   Lilith.   You   said   nothing   of   making   me   like...this.   Nothing  of  killing  Andalas.  You  said  we  were  merely  to   knock   him   out   with   the   wine.   That   the   potion   would   be  sufficient  enough  to  put  him  out  for  hours.”       “If  I  had  told  you,  gave  you  a  choice,  would  you   have  said  yes?”  I  asked.
Her   head   tilted   onto   my   hand   with   her   eyes   closing  peacefully.  “No,”  She  answered.  She  was  scared   and   unsure,   but   I   didn’t   feel   from   her   the   things   I   thought   I   would.   There   was   no   anger   or   feelings   of   betrayal  from  her.
“It’s   alright,   Serena,”   I   assured   her,   placing   my   arms  around  her.  I  could  feel  her  place  her  head  on  my   shoulder,  resting  it  as  her  body  still  trembled.     We   stood   there   for   some   untold   number   of   minutes,  but  I  knew  that  time  was  of  the  essence.  We   had   to   be   far   from   there   within   hours.   The   stench   of   blood   had   taken   over   the   room   and   had   become   too   much   for   even   me   to   stand   as   it   started   to   burn   my   lungs.
“We  must  leave  here  now,  Serena,”  I  whispered   to  her,  backing  away  from  her  and  finding  my  clothes   where  they  had  fallen.
“We   can’t   go   like   this,”   Serena   said   looking   at   the  both  us.  “And  what  about  Andalas?  We  can’t  leave   him  like  this.”
“Yes  we  can,  and  we  will,”  I  tell  her.
With  an  unsure  look  sneaking  through  her  eyes   she  turned  back  to  where  Andalas  was  then  back  at  me   before  nodding  in  agreement.
“Come,”   she   said,   “we   have   to   rinse   this   blood   from  off  of  us.”
Serena  left  from  the  room  with  me  behind;  but   not   before   I   heard   one   last   gurgle   from   Andalas,   no   doubt  his  body  not  realizing  he’s  dead.  Still,  I  couldn’t   help   but   laugh   as   if   he   knew   I   had   taken   his   little   plaything  away  from  him.

Chapter 6

Serena   found   life   as   a   Vampire   hard   getting   used   to,   as   would   anyone   in   her   situation.   She   had   been   two   weeks   removed   from   her   life   as   a   mortal   living   on   the   outskirts   of   London   in   a   manor,   living   within   a   dull   and   abusive   world   and   being   the   sexual   amusement   of   an   old   and   withered   man.   When   we   arrived   in   London   her   head   was   awash   with   the   sounds  and  sights  that  awaited  her.  The  size  and  look   of  the  city,  the  town’s  people  going  from  place  to  place   and  the  streets  packed  with  them  doing  so.  Large  and   grand   buildings   towered   over   her.   Most   of   the   time   clouded  skies  provided  a  less  than  interesting  view  of   what  was  above  with  the  occasional  clear  night  coming   in.   It   was   a   kind   of   shock   to   her   system   for   she   had   never   left   the   small   and   comfortable   folds   of   the   cottage  she  was  born  in  then  or  the  manor  she  would   eventually   move   to.   In   the   two   weeks   she   had   only   ventured   forth   once   from   the   loft   that   I   had   bought   with   the   money   that   I   had   taken   from   the   duke.   The   loft   itself   over   looked   the   city,   a   grand   and   beautiful   view  it  was  to  match  the  lavish  and  large  living  space   that   was   my   home.   Most   nights   she   kept   to   herself,   barely  saying  more  than  two  or  three  words  to  me.  She   was  still  in  shock  at  her  new  world,  not  really  knowing   what   to   do   or   how   to   act.   Not   really   grasping   the   points   of   the   life   and   the   lack   of   rules   that   had   now   graced   her.   I   knew   though   that   eventually   her   thirst   would  give  way  to  her  having  to  go  out  into  the  night   that  awaited  with  open  arms,  so  I  said  nothing  about  it   and  waited,  waited  for  things  to  take  their  course,  as  I   knew   they   would.   We   lived   in   the   more   comfortable   places  in  London,  a  step  below  the  elite  and  a  couple   above  the  lower  class,  which  is  exactly  how  I  wanted  it.   Near  the  middle  of  things  as  far  as  I  was  concerned.

Every   night   I   would   go   out,   leaving   Serena   to   her  thoughts  and  growing  thirst.  Most  nights  I  would   go  and  prowl  the  streets  of  London,  not  for  a  kill,  but   to  just  be  out;  looking,  watching,  studying  how  people   act  and  go  about  things.  It’s  what  I’ve  always  done,  for   people,  like  seasons,  change  so  quickly.  One  has  to  be   on  top  of  these  things.  For  years  and  years  I  had  lived   my  life  in  the  shadows  of  the  very  streets  I  now  walked   on,  still  trying  to  get  bearings  on  what  I  was,  how  I  was   to   blend   in.   It   took   me   almost   a   century   to   learn   the   game  as  it  is.

Instead   of   hiding,   bearing   down   on   someone   like   some   animal   and   taking   them   into   the   shadows   with  you  where  you  feast  on  them,  I  had  learned  that   patience,   manipulation   and   the   oh-‐so-‐mortal   quality   of  wanting  to  be  wanted  was  actually  the  right  way  to   go.  Not  to  mention  that  it  made  things  more  fun.  In  a   city  such  as  London,  its  many  sections  scattered  about,   it’s  easy  to  take  someone  and  not  have  anyone  notice   their   absence   for   a   long   while.   I   spent   the   better   part   of  many  nights  doing  nothing  more  than  watching  and   studying.
As   dawn   approached   I   went   home,   leaving   the   cold  November's  night  and  the  slight  fog  that  danced   over  the  city  behind.  I  entered  the  loft  to  the  familiar   smell   of   vanilla   and   a   few   lighted   candles   around   the   room,   giving   the   place   a   dim   glow.   Serena   stood   staring   out   the   window   in   a   silken   white   gown   with   strands  of  auburn  hair  draped  about  it,  the  little  light   that   was   in   the   room   reflected   off   of   her   gown   like   light  off  a  silver  lake.  Her  reflection  from  the  window   looked   back   at   me   and   in   her   eyes   I   saw   that   same   overwhelming  sadness  I  saw  the  night  I  had  met  her.

I  could  see  and  sense  it  all  from  her.  Again  her   emotions  were  like  a  book  that  was  open  and  eager  to   be  read.  I’m  sure  she  knew  it  as  I  did  but  didn’t  care.   She  had  regretted  her  choice  and  lacked  the  words  to   tell  me.

“What  would  you  have  me  do,  Serena?”  I  asked.       She   stood   there   like   a   sullen   statue,   her   back   staring  at  me  while  from  her  reflection  I  could  see  she   had   her   hands   to   her   face,   her   eyes   staring   out   that   window,   into   the   skyline   of   London   where   a   clouded   sky  and  haze  filled  streets  stared  back  at  her.  She  was   quiet   with   only   her   breathing   seeming   to   speak   for   her.  I  shook  my  head  with  irritation  beginning  to  think   that   maybe   I   had   made   a   mistake.   Indeed   what   had   I   been   thinking   to   make   her   like   me?   Had   I   been   thinking   at   all?   Had   a   part   of   me   wanted   someone   to   share  my  adventures?  I  thought  for  sure  Serena  would   take  to  such  a  life  like  this  when  compared  to  her  last   one.  But  I  could  see  that  she  had,  for  some  perverted   lack   of   a   better   sense,   grown   accustomed   to   the   life   she   had   lead   before.   Whether   or   not   she   would   actually  admit  it  aloud,  I  didn’t  know.

“How  do  you  do  it?”  she  finally  spoke.  Her  voice   was  deadened  as  if  the  emotion  had  been  taken  out  of   it   completely.   “Go   through   night   after   night,   never   seeing   another   sunrise,   never   feeling   the   warmth   of   sunlight  on  your  face.  Never  seeing  the  glow  it  makes   on  others  faces?”
I   stayed   in   my   place   and   heard   myself   answer   her  with  a  tone  almost  as  dead  as  hers.
“You  just  do.  In  time  you  will-‐”
“And   what   if   I   don’t   want   too?   What   if   I   don’t   want  to  live  forever?  To  live  as  you  do,  feeding  off  the   blood   of   other   people   or   animals,   like   an   animal   myself?”
Her   words   rang   with   a   catastrophic   irony,   as   those  were  the  very  words  I  had  wanted  to  say  to  Mical   for  so  long  after  I  had  become  a  Vampire.  I  stood  there   with   jaw   dropped,   my   eyes   lowered   to   the   ground   wanting   to   raise   them   but   couldn’t   as   they   seemed   shackled   to   the   ground.   I   had   become   to   her   what   Mical   was   to   me   for   so   long-‐a   monster.   Somehow   words  managed  to  seep  from  my  mouth  with  a  pace  of   a  snail,  trying  my  best  to  find  some  kind  of  comfort  in   them  for  her.
“I-‐I  thought  you  would  take  to  your  new  life.”       She  finally  turned  to  me,  and  I  could  see  anger   behind   those   eyes,   as   they   burned   right   through   me,   into  whatever  there  was  of  a  soul  I  had  left.  I  could  tell   she  wanted  to  say  so  much  to  me,  perhaps  cast  me  out   of  her  life  the  way  I  had  done  Mical.
“Serena,”   I   started.   “if   you   only   knew.   All   the   things  that  made  you  what  you  were  no  longer  matter   now.  There’s  an  entire  new  world  out  there  for  you...if   you   choose   to   go   out   into   it.   It   seems   you’ve   been   so   afraid   to   live   this   life   that   you   don’t   want   to   give   it   a   chance.   You,   Serena,   are   something   so   much   more   than   them,   than   those   mortals   can   ever   aspire   to   be.   The  sooner  you  realize  that  the  better  off  you’ll  be.”       The   fire   behind   her   eyes   dimmed   a   bit   as   she   lowered   them   for   a   second.   For   minutes   we   stood   across  from  each  other  on  opposites  sides  of  the  room,   neither   looking   at   the   other   and   neither   bothering   to   move.
Finally   her   eyes   met   mine   again.   “So   show   me.   Show  me  fully  what  it  is  to  be  what  we  are.”
And  so  my  teachings  began.

The   next   few   nights   I   introduced   her   to   life   in   London.   Showed   her   there   were   things   she   had   to   know   and   understand.   As   the   nights   went   on,   her   thirst  that  she  had  tried  so  hard  to  put  aside  started  to   take   over,   and   I   could   see   it   in   her,   feel   it   in   her   as   plain  as  I  could  feel  mine.  The  time  was  nigh  and  soon   she  would  have  to  take  someone.  The  night  she  would   have   her   first   real   kill   would   also   be   the   night   she   would  discover  her  life’s  passion.  The  theatre,  I  would   find,   would   have   a   very   tight   grip   and   profound   influence  upon  Serena’s  life.  That  night  we  caught  the   comedy   Much   Ado   About   Nothing.   The   entire   performance  we  sat  there  entertained,  Serena  more  so   than   I,   completely   immersed   in   it   all.   As   she   sat   spellbound   by   the   play,   I   had   searched   the   surrounding  audience  for  a  potential  candidate  for  her   first  kill.
Towards   the   end   of   the   performance   I   found   him.  A  young  man,  baby  faced  and  fresh  in  life,  ready   for  whatever  lay  ahead  of  him.  A  slim  faced  man,  plain   dressed,   vacant   of   all   the   pomp   and   circumstance   of   the   dressing   in   that   time   with   only   the   barest   of   essentials,  which  included  slightly  over  the  ankle  black   boots   and   the   typical   brown   drawstring   pants   and   a   full-‐bodied   off-‐white   shirt   that   was   slightly   trimmed   and   covered   by   a   dark   cloak.   He   was   presentable   enough  but  it  was  clear  he  was  poor.  Even  better.  The   poor  were  rarely  sought  after  if  they  became  missing.  I   turned   to   see   Serena’s   eyes   wide   with   a   childlike   wonder  as  they  scanned  the  stage  in  front  of  us  while   actors   spat   their   lines   with   flare   and   comedic   timing   that  I  thought  could’ve  been  better,  but  Serena  seemed   to  be  enthralled  with  it  all.  Fair  enough.
When   the   play   was   done,   I   took   Serena’s   hand   and   made   our   way   through   the   crowd   towards   the   young   man.   I   looked   over   to   her,   saying   nothing,   as   she   knew   as   well   as   I   did   that   the   time   was   coming   close.   Soon   she   would   have   to   quench   that   thirst   of   hers.   The   young   man   stood   ready   to   leave   when   he   caught  a  glimpse  of  us.  What  a  sight  we  must’ve  been   to  him,  two  women  pacing  their  steps  towards  him  in   near   matching   puritan   style   dark   dresses   that   flowed   the  length  of  their  bodies.  Finally  wading  through  the   crowd,   we   came   up   to   him,   Serena’s   and   my   hand   locked  in  each  other’s.
“Hello,”  I  said  to  him  in  a  voice  masked  with  a   bit   of   innocence   and   shyness.   “My   sister   here   has   a   liking  for  you.”
Serena  looked  at  me  through  auburn  curls  that   dangled   in   front   of   her   eyes,   trying   not   to   show   the   surprise   that   was   written   just   beneath   the   surface   of   her   face.   The   young   man   looked   at   the   both   us   and   just  stared  while  a  grin  skated  across  his  face.
Little   more   than   an   hour   later   all   three   of   us   were   in   the   loft.   There   I   had   purposely   made   myself   somewhat   scarce   from   them.   Serena’s   first   kill   would   have   to   be   something   she’d   need   to   do   on   her   own.   I   watched  them  as  they  looked  out  into  the  night  where   the   sky   was   unusually   bare   of   clouds   for   that   time   of   year.  I  sat  in  a  chair  in  the  corner  of  the  room,  partially   in  shadows,  quietly  looking  on  as  the  moonlight  came   through   the   window   and   highlighted   them   and   the   royal   blue   of   the   couch   they   sat   on,   making   them   brighter  than  any  of  the  surrounding  candles  could  do.   They   sat   immersed   in   conversation,   every   so   often   Serena  looking  past  him  to  see  if  I  were  still  there.  The   young  man  was  actually  an  understudy  at  the  theatre,   having  dreams  of  being  on  stage  himself  one  day.  The   two  of  them  had  talked  well  into  the  night  about  such   things.

Serena  asked  question  upon  question  about  the   theatre,  “how  does  one  get  into  character,”  and  things   like   that.   She   had   fallen   for   the   theatre   in   one   night.   Through  all  of  it,  he  answered  her  questions  as  best  he   could,   never   really   paying   me   any   attention.   He   was   obviously   a   well-‐educated   man,   not   just   about   the   theatre  but  other  things.
Turns   out   his   family   had   once   been   one   of   the   wealthiest   in   London.   But   a   slight   resurgence   of   the   plague   both   depleted   his   family’s   funds   and   most   of   his  family.  He  had  spent  most  of  his  life  traveling  with   a  theatre  company,  growing  up  among  the  actors  and   stages.   Who   knew   what   he   could’ve   been   capable   of?   The  young  man  showed  promise,  of  that  there  was  no   doubt.  As  the  night  wore  on,  I  decided  to  go  back  into   my   room   thinking   Serena   would   handle   things   eventually.

I  hadn’t  been  there  for  more  than  a  few  minutes   when  the  sound  of  a  huge  crash  stormed  through  my   room.  I  ran  out  in  time  to  find  the  young  man  fighting   Serena  off  of  the  couch  then  throwing  her  through  one   of   the   wooden   tables   that   lay   just   to   the   side   of   the   door  where  he  then  made  a  mad  dash  for  the  door  as   she   had   tried   to   catch   him.   He   had   his   fingers   just   inches  from  the  door  handle  when  I  grabbed  his  hand.   I  could  feel  him  stiffen,  as  my  fingers  became  a  vice  on   the   back   of   his   neck.   With   one   arm   I   picked   him   up   and  slammed  him  to  the  floor.
Before   he   had   any   chance   to   gather   himself,   I   crawled  on  top  of  him  and  held  him  down  then  turned   to  see  Serena  slowly  rise  from  the  shard  remains  of  the   table  she  had  just  went  through.
“What  happened?”  I  asked  her.
She   merely   shook   her   head.   I   saw   a   small   dribble  of  blood  slowly  trace  its  way  from  the  corner  of   her   mouth   down   the   side   of   her   jaw.   I   then   looked   down  at  the  boy,  seeing  that  he  had  a  small  pen  prick   of  a  bite  wound  on  his  neck.
“What   are   you   doing?”   he   screamed,   trying   his   best   to   release   his   wrists   from   my   hand.   With   one   squeeze   I   turned   the   bones   in   them   to   powder.   The   beginnings   of   a   terrified   and   tortured   scream   started   to   leave   his   mouth,   but   not   before   Serena   jumped   down  beside  me  and  placed  her  hand  over  it,  muffling   the  screams  until  they  died  beneath  her  hand.       “I   tried,”   she   said   in   a   shaken   voice.   “I   tried   to   do  as  you  told  me,  but  I  couldn’t!”
I   didn’t   even   bother   looking   at   her.   I   felt   like   some   mother   lion   trying   to   teach   her   cub   how   to   kill   and  failing  miserably.  I  didn’t  say  anything  but  looking   down   at   the   man,   I   saw   the   horror   of   what   was   happening   to   him   reflected   in   his   violet   eyes.   They   were   wet   with   tears   and   wide   with   terror,   seeming   to   do  all  the  screaming  that  his  voice  couldn’t  do.

Beads   of   sweat   soaked   his   face,   running   down   both  sides  with  each  turn  of  his  head  as  he  tried  to  free   his  mouth  from  Serena’s  hand.
“Now,”  I  told  her.
“What?”  she  asked  me,  knowing  full  well  what  I   meant.

“Do   it   now.   Do   it   now,   Serena,   or   I   will,   and   you’ll   have   no   kill   and   no   way   of   calming   that   thirst,   you  know  is  driving  you  and  gnawing  at  you,  to  rest.”       I  threw  a  glance  at  her,  seeing  the  utter  horror   in  her  face  at  the  realization  that  this  is  what  must  be   done.  That  this  was  the  only  way  that  she  could  truly   ever   be   satisfied.   With   hesitation   she   knelt   down   to   the   man’s   neck,   looking   back   up   at   me   as   if   needing   my   permission.   Finally   she   did   what   needed   to   be   done.  I  could  hear  her  teeth  dive  into  the  flesh  of  the   man   and   feel   his   entire   body   convulse,   his   neck   turning   desperately   trying   to   retreat   from   Serena’s   bite.  His  body  continued  to  tremble,  then  turn  stiff  as   if   an   electrical   current   ran   through   him.   The   muffled   screams   slowly   faded,   turning   to   low   groans,   turning   into   whimpers,   turning   into   silence.   Before   my   very   eyes  I  saw  him  turn  the  a  color  of  paper  while  Serena   drained  him  of  his  very  life.
Slowly,  Serena  rose  back  up  to  her  knees,  more   lines   of   blood   running   down   both   sides   of   her   jaw   where   they   raced   down   her   neck,   disappearing   beneath  the  black  of  her  dress.  Her  eyes  were  shut  and   mouth   had   formed   into   a   line.   I   knew   that   face   for   I   had  made  it  many  times  before.  She  was  savoring  the   taste,  the  feeling  of  being  whole  again.  Of  being  strong   again.  Of  being  alive  again.  With  a  trembling  hand  she   wiped   the   blood   away   from   her   mouth   and   neck   and   fell  back  on  her  seat,  slowly  scooting  to  the  wall.  Her   eyes  opened  and  gazed  at  me  through  a  sleep-‐like  haze   while   one   curl   of   her   hair   rested   on   the   side   of   her   face.   Her   head   leaned   to   the   side   while   she   put   her   knees   to   her   chest   and   held   them   in   place   there   with   her   arms.   She   looked   lost   and   confused,   like   a   small   child  separated  from  her  parents.

“So   this   is   what   it   is   to   be   you?”   The   words   drifted  from  her,  seemingly  hanging  in  the  air  in  front   of  me  as  she  looked  at  the  body  of  the  young  man.  His   eyes  lay  open  along  with  his  mouth,  the  screams  from   which  had  long  since  faded.  I  slid  off  of  his  body  and   sat   across   from   Serena.   Neither   of   us   said   anything,   just   sat   there   while   the   candles   slowly   burned   themselves   out   and   all   the   light   that   remained   was   that   of   the   moon   from   outside   where   the   moonlight   scattered   about   the   main   room   of   the   loft   from   the   windows.   The   beam   of   light   fell   onto   the   eyes   of   the   young   man,   showing   a   violet,   lifeless   glow   in   them.   I   thought  her  first  real  kill  would  change  her  the  way  it   changed  me.  But  it  didn’t.  Unlike  me  she  managed  to   do  something  I  wasn’t  able  to  do...she  was  able  to  keep   some  humanity  within  her.

Days   afterwards   I   would   have   to   get   used   to   seeing   Serena   go   about   the   loft   as   if   she   was   in   the   middle   of   a   never-‐ending   dream.   Each   week   it   would   be   the   same   thing,   I   would   bring   someone   home   for   her,  and  each  time  she  killed,  it  was  as  if  a  piece  of  her   died  with  her  victim.  I  was  hoping  she  would  grow  out   of   it,   but   to   no   avail.   The   young   woman   I   had   met   who,   despite   the   fact   that   life   had   treated   her   coldly   and   harsh,   despite   her   husband   treating   her   like   a   whore,  despite  that  she  felt  trapped  in  a  vicious  circle,   despite   all   of   that,   still   held   out   the   slightest   bit   for   hope,   had   now   lost   all   of   it.   The   weeks   turned   to   months  and  the  months  would  turn  to  years  that  gave   way   to   decades.   In   the   early   hours   of   one   morning   I   had   taken   myself   to   bed,   safe   and   sound   behind   the   drapes  of  my  room  and  shut  off  from  any  sunlight.

From  outside  of  my  room  in  our  home  I  heard   Serena   pacing   back   and   forth.   I   tried   to   ignore   the   sound   of   her   feet   going   from   one   side   of   the   room   to   the  other  with  the  carpet  absorbing  most  of  the  sound,   but  still  it  was  annoying.  Then  I  caught  the  glimpse  of   sunlight   from   beneath   my   door   slowly   gliding,   creeping   its   way   through   our   home.   That’s   when   I   realized   what   she   had   planned.   I   leapt   out   of   my   bed   and  hurriedly  made  my  way  to  the  door.  The  smell  of   vanilla  was  thick  in  the  air  of  the  room,  hitting  me  full   on   as   I   saw   Serena   pacing   back   and   forth   with   her   silver-‐white   gown   covering   her   feet.   Each   step   she   took   was   calm,   her   stride   not   showing   the   anxiety   I   knew   she   held   within   her.   The   rays   of   the   sun   had   already   spread   upon   the   floor,   right   in   front   of   my   door   where   I   couldn’t   possibly   go   out   and   move   her,   slowly   widening   and   lengthening,   getting   closer   and   closer  to  her.  The  drapes  of  the  front  room  were  wide   open  and  Serena  had  placed  herself  just  at  the  edges  of   light  waiting  for  them.
“What  are  you  doing?”  I  yelled  at  her.       But  I  knew  as  well  as  she  what  she  had  planned.   She  couldn’t  live  this  life  anymore  and  sought  a  release   from   it.   She   knew   from   what   I   had   told   her   what   the   sunlight  would  do  to  her.  I  yelled  to  her  to  take  cover,   but  she  continued  to  pace  back  and  forth,  keeping  her   head  down,  only  every  once  in  awhile  looking  over  to   see  just  how  far  the  beams  were  getting.  I  could  see  in   her  eyes,  the  anticipation,  the  fear,  the  wonder  of  what   it  would  be  like  to  die  such  a  death,  and  as  the  beams   came   closer   and   closer,   her   pacing   quickened.   The   beams   were   already   to   far   across   for   me   to   do   anything,   all   I   could   do   was   watch.   One   of   my   hands   clutched   the   side   of   the   doorway   of   my   room   with   such   force   that   the   wood   began   to   splinter   while   my   other   hand   clinched   my   chest.   It   had   been   centuries,   and   yet   I   still   half   expected   to   find   my   heart   racing   where   my   hand   rested.   All   I   could   do   was   watch   and   wait   for   the   inevitable.   When   the   beams   came   too   close,   she   backed   herself   against   the   wall   and   looked   at  them  as  they  closed  in  on  her.
Her  eyes  widened  and  her  breath  became  quick   and   she   leaned   into   the   wall   as   much   as   she   could,   seemingly   trying   to   meld   herself   into   the   cream   colored  wall  she  was  against.  She  glanced  over  to  me,   her   blue   eyes   peering   at   me   through   tears   that   were   building   up   where   they   overflowed   onto   her   cheeks   and  ran  down  her  face.
“I’m   sorry.   I’m   so   sorry.”   Her   voice   trembled   raw  emotion,  a  mix  of  sorrow  and  fear.
She  then  lowered  her  head  where  those  auburn   curls   swung   downward   and   covered   most   of   her   face.   She  focused  on  the  beams  as  one  of  them  managed  to   reach   her   gown,   bringing   the   shine   of   the   silver   clothing  out.  I  think  we  both  held  our  breaths  at  that   point.   Then   her   head   flew   up   and   forward.   Her   eyes   weren’t   wide   but   were   still   filled   with   tears   and   red.   She  took  in  a  deep  breath  and  saying  nothing  pushed   herself  from  the  wall  and  ran  headlong  into  the  harsh   and  killing  light  of  the  sun.  As  much  as  I  wanted  to,  I   couldn’t  turn  away.  I  wouldn’t  turn  away.  She  ran  into   the  full  fury  of  the  day,  its  rays  bathing  her,  taking  her   into  them  as  if  they  would  take  her  into  the  sun  itself.   Her  entire  body  glowed  an  amazing  gold.
Her   hair,   which   ran   down   the   length   of   her   back   and   covered   parts   of   her   face,   seemed   to   shine   the   brightest,   brighter   than   the   silver   in   the   gown   which  shone  like  a  star  and  revealed  every  contour  and   curve  she  had.  Her  arms  were  held  up  and  out  to  her   sides,   welcoming   the   sunlight,   welcoming   her   doom   gracefully.   I   heard   myself   whisper   her   name   in   shock   and  awe  while  the  part  of  the  doorway  where  my  hand   had   been   had   now   crumbled   into   wooden   dust.   She   stood   there   in   that   position,   her   head   looking   up   in   the   sun,   eyes   closed   with   the   tears   streaming   from   them,  heading  towards  the  side  of  her  head.       She   looked   so   beautiful   to   me   in   that   moment   and   there   was   actually   a   part   of   me,   as   crazy   as   it   sounds,   that   wanted   to   run   out   there   and   grab   on   to   her,  holding  her  as  close  to  me  as  possible.  There  was   part  of  me  that  didn’t  want  her  to  go  alone.  But  I  knew   I  couldn’t  do  it,  and  even  if  I  wanted  to,  I  couldn’t  for  I   couldn’t   budge   now.   I   was   a   statue   looking   at   something  beautiful  and  terrifying  in  the  same  instant.   I   waited   for   something   to   happen.   We   both   waited.   For  the  smoke,  the  smell  of  burning  flesh,  the  screams   that   would   follow   from   her,   waited   for   it   all.   The   seconds   passed.   Nothing.   Seconds   became   a   minute.   Nothing.   I   looked   on   half   expecting   something   to   happen   and   half   in   shock   that   nothing   had   at   that   point.
Serena   stood   there   in   that   same   position,   refusing   to   move,   waiting   for   something   to   happen.   We  both  were  statues.  A  minute  became  two,  became   three,   became   four.   On   the   fifth   minute   is   when   it   sunk   in   for   both   of   us.   Serena,   a   Vampire...could   withstand  the  sun.

She  finally  opened  her  eyes  and  looked  outside   to   the   English   morning   where   a   blue   sky   and   a   few   clouds   that   were   scattered   about   floated   across   her   view.  She  had  since  lowered  her  arms  and  stood  there   in   the   light,   mouth   gaped   open,   eyes   staring   straight   into  the  morning.
The   tears   slowly   evaporated   in   the   morning’s   light  where  milk  white  skin  glowed  within  its  rays.  She   was   alive,   unhurt,   and   unsure   of   what   had   happened.   We   both   stood   there   looking   out   the   window,   not   knowing   what   to   say   or   do.   She   then   turned   to   me   with  trembling  lips,  shaking  her  head,  that  lost  look  I   had   seen   years   before   returning   again.   Then,   inexplicably   it   vanished.   She   turned   back   to   the   window  and  took  another  step,  then  another.

Soon  she  was  at  the  window  placing  her  hands   atop   the   glass,   tracing   her   nails   up   and   down,   then   rested   her   fingers   full   on   the   window.   To   me   she   seemed   like   a   child   born   into   a   world   that   was   somewhat   familiar   to   her   but   at   the   same   time   not.   She  turned  back  to  me  and  slowly  the  form  of  a  smile   took  shape  with  one  lone  tear  running  down  her  face,   finding  its  way  to  that  smile  before  vanishing.     “It’s  beautiful,”  she  said.
Even  her  voice  was  like  that  of  a  little  girl  then.   So  small,  fragile  and  innocent,  with  a  wonder  and  joy   I’ve   yet   heard   before   or   since.   It   was   beautiful.   From   behind,   her   shadow   cast   on   the   wall,   where   minutes   before   she   had   been   held   up   against   it   in   fear   of   the   very  thing  she  now  embraced  completely.
“M-‐maybe   it   was   just   a   fluke,”   she   said,   her   voice  carrying  to  me  while  she  still  faced  the  outside.  I   didn’t  know  what  to  say.  I  didn’t  know  what  to  do.  “If  I   can...”   she   started   then   paused.   Serena   turned   and   reached  her  hand  out  to  me  with  her  smile.

I   looked   down   at   the   beams   that   now   had   become   an   ocean   upon   the   floor   of   the   room,   the   instincts  of  fear  still  keeping  me  back  from  the  rays.       “Lilith,   if   I   can   withstand   it...I   mean   if   the   sun   has   no   affect   on   me,   perhaps   it   was   just   something   that  happens  when  you’re  new  to  it.  Maybe  your  body   needs  time  to  build  up  some  kind  of  immunity  to  it.”       For  the  first  time  in  decades  I  heard  the  sound   of   hope   resonate   in   her   voice.   Hope   for   her,   for   the   both   of   us.   I   let   the   dust   of   wood   fall   through   my   fingers   to   the   floor   while   I   slowly   slid   my   way   out   of   the   doorway.   My   breath   was   still   and   calm   while   slowly   building   myself   up   for   the   walk   into   the   day’s   light.   Finally   I   stepped   towards   her   with   hand   outreached,  my  own  smile  drawn  on  my  face  to  match   hers.  I  Leaned  forward  and  went  in  completely.  When   I  did  the  light  enveloped  me  in  a  pain  that  I  had  never   felt  before.  Smoke  instantly  poured  from  my  skin  that   was   exposed.   Not   even   the   first   time   the   sun   had   burned  my  arm  all  those  centuries  ago  did  I  feel  pain   like  that.  I  felt  my  entire  body  start  to  boil  and  pulled   back   from   Serena   and   out   of   the   grasps   of   the   light.   The   smell   of   singed   flesh   and   burnt   hair   filled   the   room   as   the   smoke   rose   to   the   ceiling,   the   rays   from   the   sun   passing   through   it,   as   if   it   were   telling   me,   giving   me   a   terrible   reminder   of   what   happened   and   what   would   happen   if   I   ever   ventured   into   its   graces   again.

I   fell   backwards   into   my   room,   immediately   bouncing  off  the  floor  like  a  ball  and  throwing  myself   onto   my   bed   and   quickly   burying   myself   beneath   the   covers   while   smoke   came   from   me,   pouring   from   the   cracks  of  open  spaces  that  were  left  by  the  covers.

“Lilith!”   Serena’s   frantic   voice   came   after   me   followed  by  her  hands  less  than  a  second  later.       She  pulled  the  covers  off  of  me  and  found  that  I   was  curled  in  the  fetal  position,  my  arms  covering  my   head  and  face,  my  hands  lost  within  the  burnt  strands   of   my   hair.   Smoke   continued   to   pour   from   me   like   ashes   from   a   fire.   While   I   can’t   remember   doing   so,   Serena  later  claimed  that  I  had  screamed  at  the  top  of   my  lungs,  a  deafening  and  pain  filled  scream,  which  I   can  believe.
“Lilith!”   I   heard   her   voice   again   but   the   pain,   the  white-‐hot  pain  searing  through  every  nerve  in  my   body,   shut   everything   out.   All   I   could   do   is   feel   pain,   agony,   nothing   else.   I   remember   her   trying   to   unlock   me   from   my   position,   trying   to   calm   me   and   comfort   me.  Then  nothing.

I   awoke   to   dusk,   my   eyes   slowly   opening   to   reveal  the  retreating  rays  of  the  day,  the  sun  that  had   horribly   tortured   me,   finally   disappearing   beyond   the   horizon  to  give  me  peace.  I  took  in  a  deep  breath  while   lying   still,   my   eyes   heavy   with   being   tired   and   somewhat   weakened.   I   felt   something   squeeze   my   hands   and   saw   the   small   hands   of   Serena   covering   mine.  It’s  then  I  realized  that  she  had  me  in  her  arms.   My   head   was   safely   tucked   close   to   her   chest   where   I   could  feel  it  move  up  and  down  while  she  held  the  rest   of   me   close   to   her.   She   had   fallen   asleep   holding   me,   protecting   me   from   the   pain.   Pain   that   had   now   ceased.   I   looked   over   my   body   expecting   to   take   inventory   of   burns   that   were   too   horrible   for   me   to   even  conceive.
I   found   nothing.   My   skin   was   like   it   had   been   before.   My   hair   had   regained   they’re   curls   again.   The   smell   of   burnt   flesh   and   hair   had   long   since   vanished   also.  I  was  whole  once  more.  I  tilted  my  head  up  to  see   Serena   still   deep   in   the   land   of   dreams,   her   head   turned  slightly  to  the  side  where  her  hair  fell  upon  her   neck  and  upper  chest.  I  thought  I  had  lost  her,  but  it   turned   out   she   had   almost   lost   me.   I   squeezed   her   hands  back,  turning  over  to  face  her  so  I  could  see  her   awake.  A  hint  of  ocean  blue  peeked  through  small  slits   before   fully   revealing   themselves   to   me.   Her   head   straightened  and  a  smile  appeared.
“Lilith?”  she  asked.
In  her  voice  I  could  hear  the  worry,  the  worry  of   someone  who  loved  and  cared  for  me.  The  irony  of  it   was,  I  had  for  so  long  been  the  mother  to  her,  teaching   her  in  the  ways  of  being  an  immortal  and  here  she  was   caring  for  me,  looking  after  me  and  protecting  me  as  if   it  were  the  other  way  around.  I  also  realized  that  after   all   this   time   she   never   truly   hated   me   for   what   I   had   done.   Never   despised   me   or   held   a   grudge   like   I   thought  she  did  after  that  first  kill.
“I’m  fine,”  I  told  her,  my  voice  half  horse,  more   than  likely  from  all  my  screaming  earlier.  Her  eyes  fell   on  me  with  relief,  bringing  her  hands  up  and  stroking   my   head,   removing   the   few   curls   I   had   from   my   face,   letting  a  smile  beam  down  to  me  as  she  did.       “I   was   so   worried,”   she   said   in   a   whisper.   “I   thought  I  had  killed  you,  Lilith.  I  truly  didn’t  know-‐”       “Shhhh,  it’s  alright.  I  know  you  meant  no  harm.   So,   what   will   you   do   now   that   you   can   walk   freely   in   the  day  now?”
Her  smile  softened  a  bit,  her  eyes  falling  further   off  of  me.  “I  don’t  know.  It’s  just  now  that  I  know  I  can   do   all   the   things   I   never   thought   I   could.   I   don’t   know.”
I   lifted   my   hand   and   ran   a   finger   down   the   length   of   her   face,   slowly   tracing   and   retracing   it   up   and  down.  “Suddenly  the  world  doesn’t  seem  quite  as   hopeless  now  to  you,  does  it?”
She  didn’t  answer  my  question.  She  didn’t  have   to.  The  smile  I  saw  from  her  that  morning  had  already   answered   it.   The   sound   of   hope   in   her   voice   had   answered  it.
“You’re   afraid   I’ll   leave   you   now,”   she   said   to   me,   but   it   wasn’t   a   question.   She   knew   what   I   was   thinking.  My  finger  stopped  its  trace,  and  I  placed  my   entire   hand   upon   the   side,   where   her   head   tilted   and   fell   onto   it.   The   ocean   blue   of   her   eyes   disappeared   behind  blankets  of  skin  as  she  closed  them.
“I  know  you’ll  leave  me  eventually,  Serena.  And   when  that  time  comes,  I’ll  be  alright  with  it.”       She  lifted  her  hand  to  mine  and  took  it  in  hers,   holding  it  in  place  on  her  face,  her  smile  staying.

I   had   realized   that   she   knew   how   much   she   meant  to  me.  How  much  we  meant  to  each  other.  She   now  knew  fully  the  chance  she  had  been  given,  and  in   her  own  little  way  thanked  me  for  it.  She  leaned  down   and  softly,  placed  a  kiss  on  my  forehead  before  taking   and   placing   me   against   her   in   a   hug.   She   placed   her   jaw  upon  my  head,
“I’ll  not  leave  you  yet,  Lilith.  I  promise.”       Her   voice   was   almost   barely   audible   it   was   so   quiet,   but   I   heard   it.   Within   it   the   hope   and   passion   she  had  as  a  mortal  coming  through  it  clearly  as  I  ever   heard   it   as   a   Vampire.   Indeed,   through   the   coming   years   she   would   stay,   ever   the   learning   daughter   she   would   be   to   me.   She   would   never   get   used   to   taking   the  blood  of  a  living  being,  almost  never  killing  them   except  in  extreme  cases,  unlike  me,  who  actually  took   pleasure   in   the   act   of   killing.   She   would   learn   to   live   with  the  differences  between  us  and  we  would  go  on.   The  fact  that  she  could  come  from  out  the  reaches  of   the  shadows  of  night  and  once  again  walk  in  the  light   whenever   she   wanted   to   saved   and   changed   her.   She   would  never  become  like  me,  as  cold  blooded  and  evil   towards   mortals,   but   she   knew   there   was   clearly   a   difference   between   them   and   what   we   were.   So   time   passed   and   decades   turned   into   centuries   and   again   we   would   change   with   the   times.   We   would   learn,   though,  that  the  times  would  change  us  more  than  we   could  ever  have  imagined.

Chapter 7

A  foggy  night  in  the  lower  district  of  London  in   the  year  of  1886.  It  was  a  late  evening,  close  to  closing   time  in  a  pub  that  I  found  and  frequented  for  the  past   couple   of   years.   It   was   full   of   drunkards   of   old   and   young   men,   with   the   occasional   prostitute   strolling   about,   looking   to   pick   up   on   any   of   them   to   make   a   quick  score  for  their  meager  living.  The  pub  was  a  far   cry   from   anything   most   would   think   to   see   me   in.   It   was  a  dirty,  smoke-‐filled  place  where  puddles  of  beer,   vodka  and  bourbon  lay  scattered  about  the  floor  while   the   ashes   of   men’s   cigarettes   decorated   the   faded,   wooden,   circular   and   scratched   tops   of   the   tables   of   the   place.   Many   a   night   you’d   find   the   local   regular,   some   old   man   from   who   knows   where,   passed   out   at   the  end  of  the  counter  top  of  the  bar,  usually  with  the   rim   of   his   old   and   worn   top   hat   covering   his   graying   beard   where   you   could   just   barely   see   the   aging   lines   that  shot  from  it  and  creased  their  way  up  and  over  his   face.   From   what   you   could   see   of   his   mouth   came   a   small  amount  of  drool  that  had  found  its  way  from  his   lips,  falling  upon  the  counter  and  gliding  to  the  cup  of   a   half   drunken   mug   of   beer   where   the   golden   texture   and   white   head   of   it   had   faded   and   turned   a   dirty   brown  while  passers  by  wood  dump  the  ashes  of  their   smokes   within   it.   There   they   swam   around   in   a   sluggish   circle,   slowly   falling   down   to   the   bottom   of   the   drink   where   they   would   come   to   a   rest.   It   was   a   place   more   so   for   the   poorer   and   middle   class   than   what  I  was  used  to,  but  there  was  something  about  it,   the   mediocre   lighting   and   smoke   filled   haze,   the   people  and  atmosphere  that  were  in  it.
The   place   echoed   with   the   loud   shouts   and   yelling   of   boisterous   men   playing   cards   and   laughing   at   the   drunken   antics   of   one   another.   A   place   where   the  men  wore  clothes  of  beaten  down  coats  and  pants,   as  if  they  had  been  stitched  by  their  own  hand,  and  the   women  went  about  in  dresses  covering  all  they  had  to   show   from   the   waist   down   while   the   top   displayed   cleavage   pressed   and   pushed   out   for   all   to   see,   demanding   to   have   the   attention   brought   to   them.   Indeed   it   was   a   far   cry   from   what   I   had   been   used   to   over   the   centuries,   spoiling   myself   with   the   upper   crust  of  English  society,  but  this,  this  was  something  I   thought   I   had   lost.   The   feeling   of   familiarity,   the   feeling  of  what  life  was  like  as  a  mortal  for  me  back  in   Manchester   all   those   years   ago.   That   is   why   I   came   back   here.   In   the   men   here   I   swore   I   could   see   little   bits  and  pieces  of  my  father  in  all  of  them,  and  I  loved   it  so  much.

I  blended  in  well  here  managing  to  find  some  of   my   old   self   within   all   of   them,   not   to   mention   that   usually  by  the  end  of  the  night  I  would  take  someone   here   as   my   kill.   That   was   my   plan   for   this   night   also,   sitting  at  a  table,  blending  in  with  the  crude  and  loud   men   about   me   in   their   game   of   poker   while   looking   ever  the  lady  in  a  low-‐cut  scarlet  gown.  A  fat  man  who   couldn’t  seem  to  stop  laughing  at  his  good  fortune  had   won  every  hand  thus  far  and  the  rest  who  surrounded   him  had  started  to  have  their  fill.  It  wasn’t  him  that  I   had   intentions   on   though.   It   was   his   sore   loser   of   a   friend,   a   middle-‐aged   man,   half   drunk   already   with   a   smirk  that  got  worse  with  each  losing  hand.  Every  now   and  then  I’d  catch  his  dark  eyes  tracing  the  contours  of   the   low-‐cut   portion   of   my   dress   then   quickly   retreating   when   I   looked   at   him.   They   all   had   their   dirty  jokes  and  they  told  them,  and  I  held  my  own  just   as   well,   being   just   as   rude,   crude   and   dirty   as   them,   bringing   loud   belly   laughs   from   them   all,   but   always   managing  a  hint  of  a  smile  from  my  would  be  prey.       “So   what’re   ya   goin’   to   throw   down,   girl?”   the   fat  man  asked  between  chuckles  with  his  eyes  focused   on  my  face,  trying  to  read  what  I  had  in  my  hand  from   my  expression.
I  placed  the  waves  of  my  hair,  which  had  grown   past   my   shoulders   to   this   point,   behind   them,   and   saying   nothing   and   showing   nothing   but   a   smile,   threw   ten   pounds   worth   of   coins   to   the   tabletop.   An   “Oooooooo”  came  from  all  of  the  men  except  from  the   smirking   half   drunk.   His   fingers   dug   in   his   beard,   hiding   then   reappearing   from   the   thin   brown-‐gray   bushels   of   hair   that   covered   his   face   while   heavy   coal   colored   eyes   looked   at   his   cards.   He   shook   his   head,   slamming   the   cards   down   to   the   table   with   a   frustrated   sigh.   Not   saying   anything   he   picked   up   his   mug   from   off   the   table   and   finished   what   was   left   of   his  ale  while  his  friend  looked  over  to  him  with  a  smile   showing  all  the  discolored  and  chipped  teeth  he  had.       “Guess  he’s  done  then,”  he  said  with  a  laugh.  “I   like   you,   girl,”   he   continued.   “Doesn’t   stop,   keeps   coming   at   ya.   How   about   the   rest   of   ya,   going   to   let   some  woman  put  your  cards  down  too?”
His   friend,   my   prey,   sunk   in   his   chair   and   looked  over  at  me,  that  smirk  growing  more  after  that   comment.   Two   of   the   men   placed   their   hands   down,   placing  them  out  of  the  game.

One   did   see   my   hand   along   with   the   fat   man.   The  first  guy  placed  his  hand  down,  giving  me  a  snide   look   through   the   wrinkled   folds   that   hid   his   aging   eyes.   Then   the   fat   man   followed   suit,   smile   wide   as   a   canyon.  His  hand  beat  the  other  man’s.  It  was  my  turn   now.  I  slowly  sunk  back  into  my  chair,  no  discernible   look  whatsoever  on  my  face  to  tell  them  whether  I  lost   or  won.  Slowly,  in  an  almost  teasing  fashion,  I  laid  one   card   after   another   down,   and   slowly,   as   all   the   men   saw  what  I  had,  gasps  and  mumbled  curses  left  each  of   them   in   their   own   way.   When   I   was   done,   the   fat   man’s   smile   had   fled,   replaced   by   that   of   a   grimace,   like  that  of  an  animal’s  snarl.
“Cheater,”   he   yelled   at   me,   slamming   his   hand   onto  the  table.
The   mugs   full   of   brew,   the   coins   we   were   all   playing   for   and   cards   went   upward   as   his   fist   landed   on   the   old   wood.   They   fell   about   themselves,   scattered,   slightly   displaced   from   where   they   were   before.
“Ya  cheated  us  and  ya  know  it!”
I  merely  shook  my  head  at  the  fat  man  while  I   caught   one   of   his   friends   from   the   corner   of   my   eye   looking  me  over  to  make  sure  I  hadn’t  kept  any  other   cards  on  my  person  without  them  knowing.
“I   assure   you,   sir,   I   did   nothing   of   the   sort,”   I   said  to  him.
He   wasn’t   in   the   listening   mood.   I   had   taken   almost  all  of  his  money,  possibly  for  the  week  and  he   was  far  from  happy  about  it.  He  stood  up,  the  chair  he   sat   in   shooting   across   the   scarred   and   dirty   floor   coming  to  a  stop  only  after  slamming  against  the  wall   behind   him.   Life   in   the   pub   came   to   a   standstill.   All   eyes  were  focused  on  our  little  table  of  players  now.  A   hint  of  a  smile  crossed  my  face  while  the  tension  from   the   fat   man’s   friends   could   have   weaved   itself   into   a   blanket  and  have  been  placed  around  me.

Suddenly  something  grabbed  me.  A  presence  of   something,  someone,  I  hadn’t  felt  in  centuries.  It  was  a   mad,  dizzying  rush  that  nearly  chilled  me  to  the  bone.   I  whipped  my  head  to  the  entranceway  of  the  pub,  and   there  he  was,  standing  in  a  dark  trench  coat  with  the   English  moisture  resting  upon  his  head  as  little  beads   of  water  ran  down  the  sides  of  his  face.  It  was  Mical.       “Ya   won’t   be   taking   my   money,   ya   whore,”   is   what  I  heard  a  second  before  I  felt  the  sweaty  hands  of   the  fat  man  on  my  wrist.
I   snapped   my   eyes   back   to   him,   without   thinking,  grabbed  his  hand  and  ground  the  very  bones   within  them  until  a  twisted  and  grotesque  mass  of  skin   was  all  that  was  left.  I  quickly  rose  from  my  chair  and   placed   my   hand   over   his   throat.   The   Vampire   within   me  at  that  point  wanted  to  kill  that  fat  man,  drain  him   clean  of  all  his  life  in  front  of  everyone  there.  And  even   as  his  friends  rose  to  try  and  help  him,  the  glare  I  gave   each   of   them   caused   them   to   pause.   With   barely   an   effort   I   sent   him   flying   to   the   floor,   took   my   money   and  made  my  way  from  the  fat  man’s  muffled  screams   and  headed  for  Mical.
I  left  the  table  of  men  to  their  friend  as  Mical’s   eyes   widened   at   the   sight   of   me.   I   could   see   it   all   within  them,  the  shock  that  I  had  indeed  survived  this   long   without   his   help.   Survived   and   thrived.   I   walked   right   up   to   him,   placing   my   lips   a   fraction   of   an   inch   away   from   his   ear   and   whispered   to   him,   “Not   what   you   were   expecting,   were   you,   dear?”   I   pulled   away   and  just  watched  him;  those  brooding,  dark,  deep  eyes   slowly   turn   to   normal   as   the   realization   that   it   was   I   sunk   in.   He   looked   exactly   as   he   did   in   Manchester.   That   strange   golden   tone   of   his   skin   seemingly   glowing   as   that   jet   black   hair   of   his   lay   flat   and   wet   upon  his  head,  shorter  now,  a  Caesar  cut,  the  cut  of  a   gentleman  of  that  time.
“Lilith,”  he  spoke.  The  accent  of  a  well  traveled   man   who’s   journeyed   to   many   lands   coming   through   just   as   strong   as   it   did   the   first   time   I   met   him.   And   the   way   he   said   my   name,   he   still   caused   me   to   feel   some  semblance  of  a  shiver  within  my  soul.  I  could  feel   the  entire  bar’s  eyes  on  us.  Without  saying  another  word,   I  took  his  hand  and  the  both  of  us  made  our  way  out   of  there  and  onto  the  streets  of  London.

The   fog   was   dense   that   night.   More   thick   and   full  than  I  could  ever  remember  before,  as  if  the  clouds   had   fallen   from   the   sky   and   taken   up   residence   upon   the   streets.   I   clutched   his   hand   in   mine   and   I   felt,   heard,   and   knew   every   question   he   had   for   me.   The   streets   were   mostly   bare   now,   with   hardly   a   soul   out,   but   my   thirst   was   fierce   and   needed   to   be   dealt   with.   Mical  let  go  of  my  hand  and  stopped  in  his  tracks.       “What   is   it?”   I   asked   him,   knowing   full   well   what  it  was  he  wanted  to  ask.
“How  did  you  survive  on  your  own?  Not  knowing   anything,  not  having  me  there  to  sho-‐”
“The   same   way   you   learned   when   you   had   no   one.   But   unlike   you,   I’ve   learned   to   love   what   I   have   become.”

He  lowered  his  head  for  a  second  before  raising   it  and  looking  away  into  the  fog  that  stretched  on  and   on.
“You  do  still  hate  it  don’t  you?”  I  asked  him.       “I  can  feel  it  within  you,  you  carry  your  hate  of   what  you  are  around  like  baggage  that  you  can’t  get  rid   of.   Why?   You   posses   so   much   power.   More   than   any   mortal  can  ever  hope  nor  dream  of  having.”       “Is  that  what  it  is  to  you,  Lilith?”  he  asked  me,   slowly  turning  his  head  to  face  me.
“Power   to   do   things   others   can’t?   Never   mind   the   fact   that   you   can   never   know   the   things   that,   mortals,  as  you  call  them,  know.”
I   couldn’t   help   but   laugh   at   him.   Here   he   was,   all  the  power  he  could  ever  want  and  not  even  know  it.   He   was   content   with   just   blending   in   and   getting   by.   In  the  distance  I  heard  the  soft  steps  of  someone,  more   than  likely  a  lady  of  the  evening  as  they  frequented  the   area  we  were  in.  Moisture  in  the  air  was  a  bit  salty  that   night,   the   fog   mostly   taking   away   any   kind   of   smells   and   perfumes   of   those   who   were   caught   out   in   it.   Without  realizing  it,  I  felt  a  smooth  grin  course  across   my   face   and   then   turned   my   head   towards   the   sound   of  the  footsteps  that  grew  louder.
“Let  me  show  you,  Mical.”  I  turned  and  walked   away   while   he   followed   after   me.   Slowly   the   outline   formed.   Through   the   soup   that   surrounded   us   I   saw   her,   a   young   thing,   maybe   not   older   than   17   at   most.   She   was   a   young   lady   who   had   taken   the   job   of   prostitution.  She  was  still  reasonably  new  to  the  world   that   she   had   taken   as   a   profession;   a   young   lamb   amongst   a   horde   of   would   be   wolves.   She   kept   her   head   down   as   she   approached   me,   most   of   her   hair   pulled   back   from   her   face   while   a   few   damp   blonde   locks   hung   over   her   forehead,   partially   shielding   the   pale   white   skin   that   shivered   from   the   cool   air.   She   clung  to  her  blue  sweater  tightly  with  both  hands,  her   knuckles   were   wet   and   trembling.   Her   royal   blue   dress,   that   had   probably   been   some   sight   to   behold   earlier  in  the  evening,  had  now  been  beaten  down  and   worn   from   condensation   of   the   elements   and   who   knows  what  else  through  the  course  of  the  night.       “Young  girl,”  I  said  to  her.  “What  keeps  you  out   on  such  a  dreadful  night?”
From  behind  me,  I  could  sense  Mical’s  questioning   of  what  I  had  planned.  The  girl  looked  up  to  me,  light   brown   eyes   peering   through   those   blonde   locks,   hopelessness   and   grief   coming   through   them   to   me   with  clarity  of  a  glass.
“I-‐I   was   going   home   for   the   night,”   she   said   to   me.
Her  voice  carried  with  it  the  tired  soul  she  had   been   at   such   a   young   age.   I   slightly   turned   my   head   over  my  shoulder  to  see  Mical  standing  there  with  his   hands  in  his  pockets,  chin  dug  into  his  chest,  trying  to   keep  his  head  warm.
“My...husband   and   I   were   wondering   if   you   would  care  to  join  us  for  the  night?”
The  sight  on  his  face  when  I  said  that,  even  now   still   brings   a   smile   to   my   own,   how   mad   he   must’ve   thought   me   then.   I   swung   back   around   to   meet   the   young  girl’s  eyes  again.  She  clearly  wanted  to  say  no  to   me,   but   ohh   that   ever   powerful   urge   to   make   money.   Regardless   of   times,   that   one   thing   has   always   stayed   with   people.   “I   see,”   I   said,   lowering   my   voice   to   a   casual   whisper.   I   opened   my   purse   and   the   reflection   of  the  coins,  probably  more  money  than  she’s  seen  at   one   time   in   her   life,   bounced   off   her   eyes   with   a   silverish   shine.   A   sort   of   glazed   look   came   over   her.   I   took  her  hand  and  led  her  to  an  ally.

Mical   trailed   the   both   us,   and   from   behind   I   could  feel  him  wanting  to  step  in  and  stop  whatever  I   had  planned  but  he  didn’t.  He  was  curious.  Curious  to   see  what  I  would  do.  Curious  to  see  what  I  had  become   in  all  the  years  that  had  passed.  In  the  shadows  of  the   ally,  cut  off  from  everyone  else,  I  placed  her  against  a   brick  wall.  From  the  corner  of  my  eyes,  I  caught  Mical   standing  a  few  feet  away  from  me,  feeling  his  cool  eyes   fall  on  me,  looking  at  me  with  some  kind  of  loathing  at   what  I  had  become.  He  hadn’t  even  seen  me  in  all  my   glory   yet,   and   he   had   already   judged   me.   The   girl,   looked  over  to  where  Mical  stood  then  to  me.     “What  about  your  husband?”  she  asked.       I  merely  smiled  at  her.  Her  baby-‐faced  features   were   flushed   with   red   now,   while   pale   pink   lips   quivered  as  my  hand  found  its  way  beneath  her  jaw.       “He,   he   just   likes   to   watch.”   Saying   nothing   else,  I  took  my  hand  from  beneath  her  jaw  and  glided   my  fingers  over  her  eyes.
When  I  moved  them  over  her  eyes  they  closed,   shut   tight   where   those   browns   hid   behind   soft   pink   folds   of   skin,   never   to   look   upon   the   world   again.   I   leaned   in   and   slowly   placed   my   lips   on   her   neck,   taking   my   time   to   place   my   teeth   in   it.   As   I   did,   the   warm   and   fresh   rush   of   blood   hurriedly   met   my   tongue   while   a   lone   drop   escaped   my   lips,   running   down  her  throat,  disappearing  into  her  dress.  I  felt  her   tense   then   relax   in   my   grasp.   There   was   no   struggle,   no  fear  in  her,  no  nothing.  As  if  she  welcomed  it,  she   slipped   into   the   dreams   of   forever,   quietly   and   peacefully,   like   a   child   falling   to   sleep,   she   fell   into   death   in   my   arms.   I   held   her   there   while   looking   to   Mical,   the   look   of   disgust   plainly   written   on   his   face.   That’s   when   I   saw   it.   In   all   his   time,   he   had   never   killed  another  human  being.  His  eyes  stayed  on  me,  as   if   they   were   witnessing   the   very   monster   that   legend   and   old   wives   tails   had   been   touting   forever.   I,   in   his   mind,   was   the   very   epitome   of   what   a   Vampire   was,   and   more   than   anything   that’s   what   made   him   hate   me.   That   and   knowing   he   was   ultimately   responsible   for  what  I  was.
“That,”  I  began,  “is  what  it  means  to  be  what  we   are.   A   shame   you   don’t   realize   that.”   I   said   as   I   dropped   the   corpse   of   that   girl   to   the   ground   and   walked  up  to  him,  getting  right  up  close  to  him,  close   enough   so   he’d   smell   the   blood   of   that   girl   on   my   breath.  I  wiped  the  traces  of  crimson  from  my  lips,  and   with   that   same   hand   touched   his   face,   caressing   it,   running   my   finger,   that   still   had   remnants   of   red,   under   his   nose   so   he   could   take   in   that   smell,   so   he   would  know  what  he  was  missing.  He  didn’t  remove  it   from   him,   he   didn’t   say   anything.   His   eyes   met   mine   unflinchingly  and  the  both  of  us  stood  there,  reunited,   but  separated  in  who  and  what  we  thought  we  were.  I   dropped   my   hand   and   he   watched   me   as   I   walked   passed  him,  leaving  him  with  that  body  to  take  care  of   himself.   I   walked   into   the   fog   of   the   London   night   where  neither  Mical’s  eyes,  nor  the  light  from  the  gas-‐ lit   lamps   that   lined   the   streets   could   follow,   disappearing  into  it.  Mical  could  keep  his  revulsion  for   me  and  what  he  was.  It  didn’t  matter.

I  had  entered  my  home,  placing  the  thoughts  of   Mical   behind   me   and   walking   in   on   Serena,   sitting   in   mostly  darkness  with  only  a  couple  of  candles  lit  with   her   silver-‐white   gown   glowing   in   the   dark   from   the   light   the   candles   produced.   She   sat   complacently   on   the  couch,  apparently  lost  in  thought,  staring  out  into   the   night.   I   felt   restlessness   in   her,   a   kind   of   longing   for  something.  For  what  I  didn’t  know,  but  whatever  it   was  had  kept  her  there  in  that  exact  same  pose  every   night   for   the   past   two   weeks.   Each   time   I   would   ask   her  and  each  time  she  would  say  it  was  nothing.  This   time  though  I  decided  to  let  it  pass.  I  figured  whatever   it   was,   she   would   tell   me   in   due   time   if   it   were   important   enough.   I   quietly   walked   passed   her   and   made  my  way  to  my  room  when  a  little  whisper  caught   me.  I  couldn’t  quite  make  out  what  it  was.
“Did  you  say  something?”  I  asked.
Her  head  was  placed  on  top  of  both  hands  that   were  folded  and  rested  on  her  knees  that  were  brought   up   to   her   chest.   Her   expression   was   calm,   almost   unreadable,  as  if  she  were  in  a  half  daze.
“Haven’t  you  tired  of  this?”  she  asked  in  a  slow   breath.  Her  words  seemed  tired,  bored  in  a  sense.  “Tell   me,  Lilith,  what  is  it  that  keeps  us  here?”
I   didn’t   say   anything.   I   just   stood   there   and   waited  for  her  to  get  to  her  point.
“Haven’t  you  wondered  what  it  would  be  like  if   we  went  elsewhere?”
“Like?”  I  asked.
“I’ve  heard  things.  This-‐this  America,”  she  said.       I   stood   there   in   the   shadows   of   the   room   and   watched   a   slight   smile   come   to   her   face   and   warmth   fill  her  when  she  spoke  the  word  of  that  country.  She   had   made   it   clear   that   she   wanted   to   move   on   from   London.
I,   on   the   other   hand-‐   “There’s   nothing   wrong   with  London,  Serena.”
“No,  not  at  all.  That  is  if  you  like  this.”  She  said   waving   one   of   her   hands   to   the   window   where   the   heavy  mist  of  the  night  waved  right  back.  “You  said  it   yourself,   we   can   do   anything   we   want,   but   when   it   comes  to  real  change,  when  it  comes  to  actually-‐”       “Are   you   saying   you   want   to   go   over   there,   Serena?  Leave  everything  we  have  here  and  go  to  some   place  neither  of  us  knows  anything  about.”
She   shook   her   head,   and   with   more   than   an   irritated   look   on   her   face,   angrily   shot   up   from   the   couch  to  make  her  way  to  her  room.
“Serena,   wait,”   I   called   to   her,   only   to   be   met   with  another  hand  waving  me  off.

I   followed   after   as   the   sound   of   her   door   slamming   shut   echoed   throughout   the   entire   loft.   Locked.  She  had  locked  me  out.  She  had  never  locked   me  out  before.
“Serena,   open   the   door.”   She   knew   a   simple   locking  of  the  door  wouldn’t  keep  me  out.  With  barely   a   nudge   I   managed   to   force   the   door   open.   “What   is   wrong  with  you?”  My  question  never  had  a  reply.  She   lay   in   her   bed,   staring   straight   up   with   her   hands   behind   her   head,   not   paying   me   any   attention.   “You   heard  me,  Serena.  What’s  go-‐”
“What   is   wrong   with   you?”   she   snapped   back.   She   sat   up   and   locked   eyes   with   me.   I   could   tell   she   wanted   to   just   let   go   and   scream   at   me,   holler   at   the   top  of  her  lungs  at  me.  But  composure  came  over  her   like   a   wave   and   the   anger   in   her   eyes   stilled.   The   tension  in  her  body  eased  and  she  sunk  into  her  bed,   again   laying   flat   on   her   back.   “The   whole   world   out   there   is   changing   and   it   seems   you   don’t   want   to   be   part   of   it.”   Her   voice   was   lower   now,   saddened   and   tired.  “You  can’t  possibly  tell  me  you  still  find  wonder   in   London,   Lilith.   Aren’t   you   tired   of   this   country?   We’ve  been  to  every  place  this  city  has  to  offer.  We’ve   been  to  every  city  and  town  this  country  has  to  offer.   We’ve  done  everything  and  seen  everything  there  is  to   see.  The  routine  is  old.  So  very  old.  Can  you  honestly   tell   me   that   you   still   hold   a   fondness   for   this?   Doing   the  same  thing,  going  to  the  same  places.”
“If  it’s  London  you’re  tired  of  we  can-‐”       “Not  just  London,  Lilith.  Europe.  I  want  to  go  to   this   land   they   call   America.   I   want   to   see   and   feel,   experience   it   for   myself.   I’m   tired   of   all   the   hearsay   from   travelers   who’ve   been   there.   I   want   to   do   new   things.  I  want  to  see  new  places.  Meet  new  people.”       During   her   whole   speech   I   stood   in   her   doorway,  the  shadows  of  night  covering  most  of  me  so   all  I  was  to  her  was  a  silhouette.
It   was   probably   the   best   thing,   for   at   that   moment,  I  felt  so  small  in  my  yearnings  to  live  in  the   past,  and  no  doubt  she  would’ve  seen  that.  Despite  the   fact  that  I  had  changed  with  the  times  there  was  still  a   part  of  me  that  liked  the  way  things  were  and  wanted   to   keep   it   like   that.   I   felt   safe   here   in   my   loft.   In   my   London.  In  my  Europe.  Everything  she  said  was  right.   Even  more  so,  she  knew  very  well  she  didn’t  need  me   to   come   with   her.   She   could   leave   on   her   own   at   anytime.  She  was  more  than  ready  to  leave  and  go  off   on   her   own.   What   she   was   doing   was   offering   her   hand  to  me.  To  pull  me  from  the  routine  I  had  settled   myself   into.   That   and   perhaps,   all   be   it   a   small   part,   but   a   part   of   her   was   afraid   of   going   out   there   to   unknown  lands  without  me  besides  her.

She  lay  there  silent,  and  I  stood  there  in  silence.   In  America  there  would  be  new  lands  to  discover,  new   and   extraordinary   sights   to   see.   I   turned   my   head   towards  the  living  room,  focusing  my  eyes  out  into  the   fog.  The  fog  that  I  had  seen  over  and  over  again.  What   was  holding  me  to  this  place  so?  Why  did  I  feel  like  I   needed   to   stay   here?   I   was   a   Vampire.   I   could   live   forever.   But   what   good   was   it   if   I   preferred   to   stay   in   the   current   situation?   That’s   when   everything   Serena   said   became   overwhelmingly   clear   to   me.   So   clear   it   was   painful.   I   felt   a   tremendous   sadness   at   the   fact   that  I  knew  the  time  was  drawing  nigh,  where  I  would   have   to   change   more   than   I   wanted.   More   than   I   thought  I’d  have  to  with  the  times.
I   felt   and   heard   my   words   leave   my   mouth   before   I   knew   I   had   spoken   them   “Perhaps,   Serena,   you   are   right.”   I   never   turned   back   to   see   what   expression  she  might  have  had.  Instead  my  eyes  stayed   locked   on   the   outside.   Locked   on   the   night   slowly   turning   to   dawn,   the   first   rays   of   sunlight   reaching   from   out   over   the   horizon   into   the   fog   and   slowly   burning   the   mist   away   for   the   new   day   to   shine.   America  awaited  us.  And  soon  enough,  we  would  go  to   it.

Chapter 8

Serena  and  I  entered  the  20th  century  in  America,   working   our   way   up   the   eastern   half   of   the   country.   Indeed  America  was  everything  Serena  had  declared  it   to   be   in   all   the   years   she   had   nagged   me   to   take   her   there.  The  people,  the  look,  the  feel,  the  very  smell  of   the   country   were   vastly   different   than   my   beloved   England.   Together   we   took   in   the   atmosphere   of   this   world   that   was   new   to   us.   Soon   we   even   took   in   the   American  accent.  Things  went  rather  smoothly  in  the   beginning.  It  wasn’t  until  New  York  that  things  started   to   go   down   hill.   The   two   of   us   were   already   vastly   different  in  our  thinking  to  begin  with  when  it  came  to   our   views   of   the   world.   But   with   New   York   those   differences   would   be   magnified.   New   York   was   the   mecca  for  the  changes  that  would  sweep  the  rest  of  the   country  it  seemed.  In  the  city  of  a  winding  metropolis   of  massive  huge  structures  that  stood  high  and  proud,   reaching  the  tops  of  the  heavens  and  busy  streets  that   seemed   packed   with   never   ending   souls,   I   began   to   lose   myself   within   the   city   itself   while   Serena   lost   herself  in  Broadway.  It  started  in  the  late  twenties  with   the  play  called  Dracula.

I  preferred  the  book  myself,  but  it  was  this  play   that   would   push   Serena   more   and   more   into   her   wishes  to  move  to  this  California.
“Why   don’t   you   think   I   could?”   she   asked   me   with  anger  seething  through  her  words.
We   had   gone   through   this   before,   by   now   the   routine  seemed  like  a  play  of  our  own  that  Serena  and   I   would   put   on   just   about   every   night.   Whenever   she   came   from   one   of   those   plays,   she   would   come   into   our  apartment  with  visions  of  being  on  stage  acting  in   front  of  audiences.
“You  know  what  I  think,  Serena.  You’re  a  Vampire.   You’re   not   one   of   them.”   I   said   to   her   while   pointing   out  of  the  window  I  stood  in  front  of.
Out   into   the   city   shrouded   in   darkness   while   she  stood  in  front  of  me  with  arms  crossed.  She  peered   at  me  like  a  little  child  not  getting  her  toy.  I  didn’t  care   though.   I   was   sick   of   it   all.   Her   foolish   dreams,   her   constant  nagging  of  wanting  to  go  out  west  to  see  the   world   of   this   growing   Hollywood.   Wasn’t   it   enough   that   I   had   come   to   the   states?   She   seemed   to   forget,   just  because  she  could  walk  in  the  day  didn’t  make  her   human.  She  would  always  be  what  she  was  now.       “You’ll  never  age,”  I  went  on,  “What  will  happen   if   you   do   decide   to   go   into   a   life   of   an   actress?   What   will   happen   if   you   do   find   that   fame   you’ve   been   wanting?   What   will   you   do   when   your   friends,   co-‐ stars,  fellow  actors  notice  how  you  never  age?  How  the   hairs   on   your   hair   never   turn   gray?   How   not   one   wrinkle   never   graces   your   face?   What   will   you   say   to   them?   And   what   of   quenching   your   thirst?   What   will   you   do   for   that?   Will   you   risk   exposing   what   you   are   for  your  dream?”

Time   and   time   again   I   had   pointed   out   those   questions   to   her,   and   time   and   time   again   she   never   gave   me   an   answer   to   any   of   them.   And   like   those   times  before  she  stood  and  stared  at  me  with  a  blank   look.  Her  eyes  kind  of  glazed  over  as  they  sunk  slowly   to  the  floor.  I  merely  scoffed  and  left  her  alone  in  our   apartment.   I   wasn’t   in   the   mood   to   see   that   reaction   yet   again.   Things   were   so   much   better   back   in   England.   The   arguments   were   far   and   few   then.   Now   though,   now   all   it   ever   seemed   to   me   was   our   conversations  consisted  of  arguments.

I   stepped   outside   into   the   cold   November's   night,  in  a  mood  with  my  need  for  blood  amplified  by   my   emotions   it   seemed.   I   didn’t   quite   care   how   I   got   my   taste   of   blood   that   night   as   long   as   I   got   it.   But   there   would   be   something   of   more   importance   that   would   grab   my   attention   before   the   sun   would   rise.   I   had   spent   over   two   hours   out   in   the   city   looking   for   someone   to   have   only   to   find   nothing.   It   seemed   everyone  had  decided  to  stay  indoors  that  night.  I  was   tired,  and  while  my  thirst  stirred  within  me,  I  knew  it   could   be   put   off   another   night.   I   was   headed   home   when   I   felt   it.   What   it   was   I   didn’t   know,   but   it   was   like   all   the   nerves   in   my   body   had   a   sudden   jolt   of   electricity.  I  could  feel  them  tingling  inside,  and  a  cool   feeling   in   my   chest   grew   from   out   of   nowhere.   I   had   felt   it   quite   a   few   times   during   my   many   years   in   England.  Even  then  I  didn’t  understand  what  it  was.

Then  I  saw  him,  rather  the  breath  that  left  him   and  escaped  into  the  night  as  he  exhaled.  Standing  on   the  opposite  side  of  the  street  was  the  outline  of  a  man   covered  in  shadows.  But  he  was  much  more  than  that.   I  knew  it  before  I  had  completely  realized  it.  He  was  a   Vampire.  He  knew  what  I  was  the  same  as  I  knew  what   he  was.  I  stood  there  and  watched  him  come  from  the   shadows   of   the   darkness   that   had   hid   him.   He   was   a   young  man;  at  least  he  was  when  he  became  like  me.

I  could  see  in  his  steps  towards  me  that  he  was   a   bit   ambivalent   about   what   he   was   doing.   He   didn’t   know   whether   to   continue   on   and   approach   me   or   turn  and  run.  I  could  sense  it  all  in  him,  he  was  new  to   my  world,  still  trying  to  figure  things  out.  Still  looking   for   someone   to   tell   him   what   he   was.   The   cold   that   had  turned  bitter  since  I  went  out  had  forced  his  hazel   eyes  to  water,  but  he  was  quick  to  wipe  them  dry  as  he   got   closer   to   me.   He   made   his   way   in   front   of   me,   picking   up   the   pace   while   crossing   the   street,   the   sound  of  the  soles  of  his  beaten  up  shoes  scuffing  the   road,   the   only   sound   to   be   heard   in   the   entire   city   it   seemed.  The  closer  he  got  the  more  I  could  see  that  he   obviously   had   no   place   to   call   home.   The   clothes   he   wore  were  worn  rags  for  the  most  part.  He  was  a  street   urchin.   When   he   finally   got   within   a   few   feet   of   me   I   could  see  the  pale  skin  peeking  out  through  dust  and   dirt.   I   couldn’t   help   but   be   taken   aback.   It   was   like   looking  into  a  mirror  from  centuries  ago.

“Who  are  you?”  he  asked  me.
My  eyes  narrowed  a  bit.  A  blank  stare  is  all  he   received  from  me  for  an  answer.  He  wrapped  his  arms   around  himself,  trying  to  control  the  trembles  of  being   cold.     “You’re-‐you’re  like  me  aren’t  you?”
I  looked  down  at  his  feet,  at  those  worn  down,   worn  out  shoes  that  looked  as  if  they’d  fall  right  off  of   his  toes  at  any  given  second.  I  placed  my  arms  behind   me   and   circled   him   slowly   while   he   stood   perfectly   still.
“You  do  know  what  you  are?”  I  asked  him.       He   shook   his   head.   Indeed,   I   could   sense   the   confusion  from  him,  living  who  knows  how  long  in  the   state  he  was  in.  No  longer  human,  no  longer  humane   in  some  cases.  He  just  existed.  I  found  myself  in  front   of  him  once  more,  looking  him  in  his  eyes  again.       “Who   made   you   what   you   are?”   He   couldn’t   answer.  He  didn’t  know.  His  eyes  fled  away  from  mine,   looking   any   and   everywhere   but   at   me.   “You   should   not   be.”   I   said   quietly.   He   revolted   me.   Revolted   me   because   he   shared   something   with   me,   something   so   powerful,  so  mystical  that  ones  like  him  didn’t  deserve   to   posses   such   a   gift.   I   acted   before   I   even   thought.   I   didn’t  even  know  I  had  done  it  until  I  felt  the  wetness   and  warmth  on  my  hands.  The  look  on  his  face  was  a   strange  sort  of  look.  Surprising  to  me  it  was.  A  look,  a   mixture   of   surprise   and   relief.   Of   grim   understanding   that  he  didn’t  have  the  right  to  exist  and  acceptance  of   what   has   happened.   I   looked   down   to   find   my   hand   buried  in  his  chest.  As  I  slowly  removed  it  he  let  out  a   drawn  out  sigh.
To  me  it  didn’t  sound  like  that  of  pain,  but  that   of   release.   My   hand,   freed   from   his   body,   clutched   in   it,  his  heart,  cold  and  stale,  dead...like  he  had  been  for   so   long.   The   man   fell   to   the   ground   without   making   another  sound.  I  looked  at  him,  studied  him  carefully,   waiting   to   see   what   would   happen   since   I   had   never   seen   a   true   Vampire   die   before,   but   only   what   I   had   seen  in  Serena’s  beloved  theatre  plays.  His  skin  turned   a   ghostly   pale,   then   gray   and   seemed   to   thin   as   the   skeletal   structure   beneath   started   to   show   through   until   finally   he   looked   like   that   of   a   corpse   that   had   been   dug   up   fresh   from   the   ground.   I   clutched   his   heart   in   my   hand   tightly,   looking   around   to   see   if   anyone   had   decided   to   show   up   at   that   moment.   Luckily   the   streets   were   still   scarce   and   I   hurriedly   made  my  way  home.

I   arrived   home   with   a   seething   anger,   just   waiting   for   the   right   time   to   show   itself.   When   I   stepped   in   the   door   I   found   Serena   lying   in   the   darkness  with  only  the  light  from  the  fire  she  had  built   in   the   fireplace.   Lying   peacefully   on   the   couch   with   her  eyes  closed.  I  slowly  walked  over  to  where  she  laid,   the   dead   Vampire’s   heart   still   firmly   grasped   in   my   hand  and  knelt  down.
“Serena,”  I  whispered.  “Serena  I  have  something   for  you.”  The  beginnings  of  a  smile  slowly  crept  across   her  face  while  her  eyes  stayed  hid  behind  the  folds  of   skin.  “Serena,  open  your  eyes.”  And  open  her  eyes  she   did.  The  second  she  saw  what  I  had  held  up  in  front  of   her   she   let   out   a   quick   gasp   and   practically   jumped   back  away  from  me  to  the  corner  of  the  couch.       “What  is  that?”  She  tried  to  scream,  but  caught   herself   and   letting   her   fright   come   out   as   a   strained   whisper.
I   lunged   at   her   and   with   my   other   hand   grabbed   her   by   her   cheeks,   digging   my   nails   deep   within   the   side   of   her   face.   Trembling   shades   of   crimson   mixed   with   tears   raced   down   her   face   while   her  eyes  struggled  to  turn  away  from  the  sight  I  had  in   my  hand.

“Look   at   me,   Serena!   Do   you   know   what   this   is?”  Heavy,  nervous  breaths  were  all  I  got  from  her,  but   no  firm  answer.  So  I  asked  again.  “Do  you  know  what   this  IS,  Serena?”
“No,”   she   struggled   to   say   between   the   tears   that  rushed  out  of  her  eyes  now.
“This,  this  is  the  heart  of  a  now  dead  Vampire!   A   Vampire   whom   I   killed!   Do   you   know   why   I   killed   him,  Serena?  DO  YOU?”
Serena  shut  her  eyes  as  tight  as  she  could  while   pleading   with   me   to   let   her   go,   to   remove   that   heart   from   her   face.   “This   Vampire,   Serena,   he   was-‐was   a   homeless  urchin!  He  was  something  lower  than  some   of   the   lower   class   mortals!   This-‐this   man   had   gifts,   powers  like  you  and  I  but  was  no  better  than  the  rats   and   other   filth   he   lived   with   on   those   streets!   He   didn’t   deserve   to   be   what   we   are!   What   WE   are,   Serena!”
I  drove  my  nails  deeper  into  the  side  of  her  face   as   deep   as   they   could   possibly   go.   A   scream,   dying   within   the   mouth   of   Serena’s   closed   lips   was   what   I   got.
Finally,   “Why   are   you   doing   this,   Lilith?   P-‐p-‐ please,  stop!”
“You   KNOW   why   I’m   doing   this!   You   KNOW   how  he  got  that  way!  You  KNEW  all  along  we  weren’t   alone!  You  knew...all...along.”
My   nails   slipped   from   her   face   and   fell   in   her   lap.   Serena   didn’t   move   at   all.   She   became   a   statue,   frozen  by  fright,  pain  and  shock.

“How   could   you   have   done   this?”   I   asked   her   half  hoarse.
Her   eyes   clinched   shut   while   one   lone   tear   rolled   down   the   side   of   her   face,   passing   the   already   healed  wounds  that  I  had  left  there  seconds  before.       “How   did   you   know   it   was   me?”   She   asked   calmly.
I  leaned  back  to  the  other  corner  of  the  couch,   still  clutching  the  heart  that  had  now  started  to  wither   and  turn  to  dust  in  my  very  hand.
“Because   I   would   never   waste   such   a   gift   on   anyone   like   that,”   I   said   quietly,   my   eyes   fixed   on   Serena’s  trembling  hands  that  sat  in  her  lap.       “How   do   you   know   it   wasn’t   someone   else?   How  did  you  know  it  wasn’t  him?”
The   questions   came   from   her   gently,   as   if   she   feared   I’d   erupt   at   her   again   and   didn’t   want   to   push   too  hard.

“Because  I  know...knew  Mical.  I  know  he  never   intended   for   me   to   be   like   him.   His   curse   is   my…our   gift.   I   know   he’d   never   intend   for   someone   to   go   through  the  life  that  we  lead.”
Auburn   curls   sloped   down   and   covered   those   deep   blue   eyes   of   Serena,   tilting   her   head   forward,   ashamed   of   what   she   had   done,   scared   of   seeing   my   reaction  to  what  she  would  say  next.
“I-‐I   needed,   wanted   someone   else   who   wasn’t   old   to   this   like   you   were.   I   needed   someone   to   understand   how   I   felt.   That’s   something   you   could   never  give  me,  Lilith.  So  one  day,  long  ago,  I  went  out   and  found  him.  He  was  so  beautiful,  lovely.  During  the   days   you   were   asleep,   I’d   go   out   and   meet   him.   He   reminded   me   so   much   of   you.   So   sure   of   himself,   so   full  of  vibrance  and  courage,  but  unlike  you,  he  never   held  himself  higher...”
“Go  ahead,”  I  encouraged  her.  “Finish  what  you   were  about  to  say.”
Serena  drew  in  a  deep  breath,  placing  her  hands   to   her   face,   brushing   the   curls   away   from   her   eyes   as   she  looked  back  up  towards  me,  her  eyes  locking  with   mine,   and   unflinchingly,   with   a   calm   and   silent   determination  she  started  again.
“He  never  held  himself  higher  than  anyone  else.   He   never   looked   down   on   those   who   might   not   have   been   where   he   was   in   life.   He   was...understanding.   Understanding   about   so   many   things,   and   yet   he   was   still  willing  to  listen.  To  learn  new  things.”
My   lips   curled   slightly,   trying   their   best   to   not   show  the  pain  I  felt  at  the  moment.  Her  words,  every   single  one  of  them,  were  like  daggers,  stabbing  me  in   my  chest.

“After   awhile,”   she   continued   on,   “I   decided   to   give  him  what  you  had  given  me.  Perhaps  I  could  be  to   him   what   you   tried   to   be   to   me.   So   one   night   I   went   out  and  met  him.  We  talked,  we  ate,  we  laughed.  Then   I  made  him  like  us.  He  was  shocked  and  scared.  But  in   time   he   accepted   what   had   happened   and   embraced   who  and  what  he  was  at  that  moment.  I  did  try  to  be  a   mentor  like  you  had  been  with  me,  and  he  took  to  his   role   well.   But   in   time   he   grew   wearier   of   being   alone   with   just   me.   He   thought   it   would   be   better   if   he   invited  others  to  join  us.  I  tried  to  stop  him,  but  it  was   too   late.   Within   weeks   time   he   had   turned   many   others.   Some   friends,   some   strangers,   some   family.   And  it  went  on  from  there.”
Her  eyes  fell  from  mine  once  more  as  she  went   silent   again.   She   leaned   back   into   her   corner   of   the   couch   and   shut   her   eyes   closed,   letting   out   a   breath   with   a   look   of   relief   draped   across   her   face   as   if   she   had  thrown  some  great  burden  off  of  her.
“And  now,  because  of  you,  we  have  the  likes  of   ones   like   this   polluting   are   kind,”   I   said   as   I   held   up   the   dead   Vampire’s   heart   in   my   hand   and   crumbled   the  remains  into  dust  and  watched  it  fall  through  the   cracks  of  my  fingers.  “I  hope  you’re  proud  of  yourself,   Serena.”
She   scoffed,   painting   an   almost   mocking   smile   on   her   face.   “This   is   why   I   left   him   behind.   He   had   become   too   much   like   you.   Believing   himself   to   be   a   god  amongst  everyone  else.  At  least  he  could  claim  to   be   such   a   thing   with   his   background   as   a   beginning   Vampire.   He   wasn’t   roaming   the   fields   of   England,   feasting   on   anything   that   moved   when   he   was   made   ne-‐”
I  didn’t  let  her  finish.  I  jumped  from  my  corner   and   placed   my   hands   around   her   throat.   “How   dare   you?”   I   screamed   at   her.   Her   eyes   shot   open   and   narrowed  into  slits.  For  the  first  time  Serena  stared  at   me  with  a  hatred  and  anger  I  knew  all  to  well.  It  was   the  same  thing  I  felt  towards  Mical  in  the  beginning.     “How  dare  I?”  she  asked  defiantly.  “You  criticize   and   hold   yourself   so   Goddamned   high   above   those   who   are   just   like   you!   You   think   yourself   better   than   someone   who   lived   exactly   the   way   you   lived   when   you   became   a   Vampire!   Why   did   you   kill   him,   Lilith?   Reminded  you  a  bit  too  much  of  what  you  were?”       I   let   go   her   neck   with   one   hand   and   raked   my   nails  across  her  face  with  a  fierce  slap.  I  could  feel  her   flesh   rooted   firmly   beneath   them,   but   I   didn’t   care.   I   did  it  again  and  again  until  finally  Serena  dug  her  nails   into   the   wrist   of   the   hand   that   held   her   down   and   pushed  me  off  of  her  to  the  floor.  I  barely  had  time  to   recover  when  she  pounced  on  me.  The  two  of  us  rolled   on   the   floor,   locked   in   the   other’s   grip,   like   two   animals  in  the  jungle  fighting  for  the  last  scrap  of  food.   My  nails  dug  into  her  face  and  head,  hers  into  my  hair   and   chest.   Furniture   moved   about   us,   objects   placed   on   tables   fell   on   and   around   us,   but   we   were   both   oblivious   to   it   all.   In   a   whirlwind   of   hands,   fist,   nails,   blood  and  screams  from  one  another  we  only  focused   on  our  anger.
I  finally  slammed  her  back  to  the  floor  and  with   one   hand   around   her   neck,   holding   her   head   down,   I   raised  the  other,  preparing  to  do  to  her  what  I  did  to   the   young   man   of   a   Vampire   on   the   street.   As   I   held   her   down,   watching   her   face   contort   with   anger   at   losing   to   me,   at   everything   that   had   just   happened,   I   lowered  my  other  hand.  Her  hands  fought  and  fought   to   release   my   grip   from   her   throat   while   in   her   eyes   water  started  to  pool  and  streams  of  tears  formed  until   they  escaped  to  the  sides  of  her  face.  I  pulled  my  hand   back   from   her   throat   and   let   it   rest   at   my   side.   Her   arms  fell  out  to  the  sides  and  there  we  were.  The  two   of   us   looking   at   one   another,   our   battle   scars   closing   up  until  there  wasn’t  a  trace  of  them  left  and  our  hair   that  had  been  torn  out  began  to  regrow  already.
I   shook   my   head   in   disbelief,   feeling   my   eyes   start   to   sting   with   tears   of   my   own.   “This   is   how   you   repay   me,   Serena?”   I   asked.   “These   last   centuries   all   I’ve  done  I  did  for  you.  I  took  care  of  you.  Raised  you.   Cradled   you   and   watched   out   for   you.   I   loved   you   in   every   way,   physically,   emotionally,   and   mentally.   I   loved   you,   Serena,   and   this   is   what   you   think   of   me?   This  is  how  you  see  me?  Everything  I  did  was  for  you.   For   us.”   I   couldn’t   hide   my   emotions   from   her   anymore   and   I   let   my   tears   fall.   With   a   laugh   mixed   with   tears,   Serena   laid   there   with   me   still   on   top   of   her,   her   arms   held   out   to   her   sides,   her   eyes   staring   around  me,  fixing  on  something  else.
“Please,   Lilith,”   she   began.   “Everything   you   did   was  for  you.  I’m  only  saddened  it  took  me  this  long  to   see  it.  The  world  isn’t  meant  for  us,  or  for  others  like   us.  It  never  was.  You  hold  yourself  up  to  be  this  figure,   this  thing  that’s  bigger  and  better  than  anything  that’s   come   before   or   will   come   after   and   it’s   not   true.   He   was  right,  you  know.  The  one  who  made  you  like  you   are.  He  was  right.  We  are  monsters.  Just  monsters  that   are   easier   to   look   at.   We’re   not   special   or   better   than   anyone   or   anything   else.   All   we   are   are   killers   who   don’t   need   to   kill   to   live.   That’s   all   you   are,   Lilith.   That’s  all  you’ll  ever  be.”
Her  words  numbed  me.  I  couldn’t  think  straight.  I   couldn’t  feel  anything  at  that  moment.  She  slowly  sat   up   and   placed   my   head   in   her   hands,   placing   her   forehead  to  mine  before  she  spoke  again.
“I   do   love   you,   Lilith,”   she   said   in   a   voice   shaking   and   saddened.   “Despite   how   I   know   you’ve   treated  me  and  how  you  think  you  have,  I  do  still  love   you,   but   I   can’t   stand   you   anymore.   I   can’t   stand   to   look   at   you,   to   be   around   you.   I   can’t   stand   to   know   you  anymore  or  know  you’re  around  me.”
Her   tears   flowed   from   her   now   and   her   words   struggled  to  leave  her  more  and  more.  She  placed  her   lips   on   mine,   and   again   on   my   forehead.   I   slowly   wrapped  my  arms  around  her  waist  and  we  both  held   each  other  there  in  the  middle  of  the  room  while  the   fireplace  highlighted  us,  casting  our  shadows  upon  the   surrounding   walls,   showing   them   embraced   in   one   another’s  grip.  This  was  the  end.  She  had  grown  apart   from   me.   She   had   simply   grown.   Our   time   together   was  over  now,  and  I  wouldn’t  do  anything  to  stop  her   from  leaving.  Despite  everything  she  had  said,  despite   the   pain   and   suffering   I   felt   at   that   moment,   I   loved   her  far  too  much  to  deny  her  what  she  wanted.  She  let   me  go  long  ago.  I  finally...did  the  same.

I   awoke   the   next   evening   to   an   empty   apartment.  Serena  had  left  to  lead  her  new  life  while  I   slept,   and   for   the   first   time   in   a   very   long   while,   an   emptiness   and   uncertainty   crept   into   my   thoughts.   What   was   I   to   do   now?   The   past   few   centuries   I   had   always  had  Serena  to  help  occupy  my  time.  We  always   had  each  other,  but  once  again  I  found  myself  on  my   own.  I  stood  in  the  doorway  of  my  room,  looking  out   into   the   rest   of   the   apartment   that   seemed   so   much   bigger,   so   much   lonelier   now.   I   stepped   from   out   of   my  room  and  to  the  window  that  looked  out  onto  the   city.   It   was   a   beautiful   night,   where   the   stars   shined   down   so   brightly   you   could   swear   they   were   close   enough   to   touch.   My   eyes   shifted   and   looked   at   the   skyline  of  the  city,  seeing  the  outlines  of  buildings  and   homes,  lights  adorning  some  of  them  as  people  below   me  walked  from  one  place  to  another.
In   all   that   Serena   was   out   there.   Out   there   on   her  own  for  the  very  first  time,  chasing  the  life  she  had   always  wanted,  a  life  where  I  didn’t  tug  on  her  pulling   her   back   from   it.   It   was   then   I   realized   what   I   had   done.  Serena  was  right.  Most  of  everything  I  had  done   was  for  my  benefit.  I  clasped  my  hands  over  my  mouth   and   shut   my   eyes.   Looking   back,   thinking   about   all   those  years,  I  knew  she  was  right.  I  had  been  and  done   wrong  to  her.  All  those  years,  I  held  her  here  with  me   when   she   wanted   to   go.   But   she   stayed.   She   stayed   because  she  knew  I  had  needed  her.  I  had  gotten  used   to  her.  She  sacrificed  so  much  for  me,  and  I  never  saw   it.  I  didn’t  see  it  until  at  that  moment  when  she  was  no   longer  there.
“I’m   so   sorry,   Serena,”   I   whispered   aloud.   “Please   forgive   me.”   I   backed   away   from   the   window   and   retreated   to   my   room.   For   the   first   time   since   I   was  imortal  I  stayed  and  slept  in  for  the  night.

The  passing  years  didn’t  fly  by  as  they  did  with   Serena,  but  with  each  one  the  loneliness  subsided  and   in   time   I   found   independence   and   ability   to   stand   on   my  own  as  I  did  before.  But  in  doing  so  I  had  become   even   colder   and   withdrawn.   Being   on   ones   own   can   sometimes  do  that.  Little  did  I  know  that  once  again,   I’d   have   someone   enter   my   life   that   would   have   a   profound  influence  on  it.

Chapter 9

The   1940’s   of   New   York   City   were   a   grand   and   interesting  time.  Many  had  said  it  was  the  greatest  city   of   its   time   long   before   then,   but   I’d   like   to   think   the   forties   was   the   decade   that   solidified   that   saying   for   the  New  York  everyone  knows  today.  It  was  the  fall  of   1946,  and  I  realized  soon  after  Serena  had  left,  the  fall   and   winter   months   can   be   the   most   hard   and   lonely,   but   I   had   ventured   out   on   my   own,   living   my   life,   going   out   and   associating   myself   with   the   fabulously   wealthy   of   that   time,   becoming   a   member   in   many   exclusive   circles   of   the   rich,   much   as   I   had   done   in   England   years   before.   This   time   around   I   didn’t   have   to   depend   on   a   fake   identity   to   make   my   way   within   the  populous  of  the  rich  now.  I  had  always  had  money,   but  now,  thanks  to  Serena  and  her  generousness  to  me   after   she   had   become   a   sort   of   star   in   Hollywood,   modeling,   having   small   parts   in   huge   films   and   becoming  friends  herself  with  some  of  the  time’s  most   powerful  people  out  there,  money  for  her  was  as  easy   to  come  by  as  it  was  for  me  to  find  a  victim  to  quench   my   thirst   when   it   came   upon   me.   For   some   reason,   one   that   I   still   can’t   figure   out   to   this   day,   Serena,   shortly   after   money   starting   falling   her   way,   sent   me   one   check   with   a   huge   sum.   With   the   money   came   a   simple   two-‐word   note...”Thank   you”.   I’ve   often   wondered   what   that   note   meant,   but   to   this   day   I’ve   never  asked  her  and  she’s  never  offered  a  reason.

The   money   she   gave   me,   which   was   a   lot   for   that  time,  and  with  the  help  of  some  people  who  knew   people   who   knew   people,   it   was   invested   and   I   made   even  more  of  it.  Remember,  the  years  after  War  World   II   was   some   of   the   most   profitable   for   many   who   played  the  stock  trade,  and  in  my  years  in  New  York  I   had   followed   that   game   very   closely.   So   thanks   to   all   that,   I   now   found   myself   at   balls,   debutante   coming   out   parties   and   parties   to   celebrate   someone’s   achievement  at  making  more  money.  It  was  at  one  of   these  parties  that  I  first  met  him.  It  was  a  week  before   Thanksgiving;   it   was   another   debutante   coming   out   party   for   a   daughter   of   someone   whom   I   didn’t   even   know.  I  was  merely  invited  because  my  name  was  now   known   in   the   circles   of   the   rich   and   nothing   more.   It   was   a   rented   ballroom   on   the   upper   east   side   of   New   York,   and   there   I   sat   at   a   table,   looking   from   atop   a   balcony  at  the  partygoers  below.
Through  a  light  veil  of  smoke  I  could  see  many   tiny  orange  and  red  lights  that  represented  the  myriad   of   cigarettes   from   which   the   smoke   came   from.   I   sat   there  with  my  glass  of  wine  resting  comfortably  in  my   hand,   pretending   to   be   listening   to   the   ramblings   of   some   rich   man’s   boring   wife   going   on   about   something.   Her   voice   irritated   me,   and   if   I   had   paid   attention   to   the  story  I’m  sure  I  would’ve  been  more  irritated.  This   party   had   been   like   so   many   others   before   it.   It   had   become   routine   to   me,   but   I   did   it   because   it   was   something   to   do.   Not   to   mention   there’s   always   hope   of   finding   potential   prey.   But   my   life   had   become   rudimentary,   boring   with   nothing   to   look   forward   to   but  the  occasional  kill.  I  had  begun  to  feel  like  a  lot  of   those  old  women-‐the  wives  of  the  rich  husbands.  They   shopped   and   looked   good   and   could   have   anything   they  wanted  with  a  snap  of  their  pampered  fingers,  but   I  could  sense  from  a  lot  of  them,  despite  all  they  had  it   was  still  not  enough  for  them.  They  felt  trapped  in  the   every   day   occurrences   of   their   lives   and   secretly   had   started   to   loathe   it.   I   had   become   like   them,   and   I   hated  it.
Little   did   I   know   that   my   salvation   from   the   mundane   would   be   found   that   night.   I,   like   most   at   that  table  had  started  to  numb  due  to  the  old  woman’s   never-‐ending   stories,   and   just   when   I   was   ready   to   reach   across   the   table   and   tear   her   throat   out,   saving   us  all  the  trouble  of  hearing  her  God  forsaken  voice,  I   felt  it.
That   sensation   I   had   felt   all   those   years   ago   when   I   had   encountered   the   young   vagrant   Vampire   on  the  street,  the  sensation  that  I  had  since  felt  many   times   after.   Normally   I   wouldn’t   give   it   any   thought,   but  I  had  never  felt  that  sensation  at  a  gathering  such   as  this.  I  cocked  my  head,  narrowing  my  eyes,  trying  as   best  I  could  to  focus  through  the  smoke,  filter  out  the   thoughts  and  feelings  of  all  around  me  so  I  could  find   him.   Whoever   it   was   had   blended   in   with   the   crowd   below.   I   had   started   to   rise   from   my   chair   when   the   lights   dimmed   and   the   music   started   up.   A   figure   stood  dimly  highlighted  on  a  stage  in  the  front  of  the   ballroom  and  a  soulful  voice  came  from  her,  filling  the   place,   accompanied   by   the   quiet   rhythms   of   the   big   band   that   she   fronted.   The   song   she   sang   was   a   Gershwin   ballad,   S’Wonderful,   I   do   believe   is   what   it   was.  The  floor  quickly  cleared  with  only  the  debutante   of  the  night  and  her  partner  alone  at  the  center.       A   lone   spot   light   shone   on   them   while   the   crystals  of  the  giant  chandelier  that  looked  down  upon   everyone   reflected   what   light   remained   across   the   entire   room   in   little   silver   sparkling   dots   across   the   walls   and   the   ivory   colored   floor.   The   two   of   them   stood  together,  the  debutante’s  dark  hair  shimmering   from   the   light   while   it   went   down   to   her   shoulders   where   the   tips   just   ended   at   the   straps   of   her   cherry   red   gown,   while   her   hazel-‐blue   eyes   seemed   to   glow   with   a   radiance   of   joy   at   her   shinning   moment.   The   man   held   her   closely   to   his   chest   as   she   looked   up   at   him   smiling   a   childlike   smile.   He   had   his   back   to   me   so  I  could  only  see  the  slicked  back  salt  and  peppered   hair  of  his,  and  the  back  of  his  tuxedo.  The  two  moved   together  with  perfect  timing  to  the  music,  their  hands   locked  together  in  one  another’s.

Finally   the   last   notes   of   the   song   were   played   and  the  music  came  to  an  end.  Mostly  everyone  within   the   hall   stood   and   applauded.   The   young   girl   giggled   with   embarrassment   and   buried   her   head   into   the   chest   of   her   dancing   partner.   I   quickly   got   out   of   my   chair   as   soon   as   the   crowd   began   to   gather   onto   the   floor   once   more.   I   left   my   table   behind   and   hurriedly   made   my   way   down   the   stairs   and   onto   the   floor.   Whoever   it   was   the   debutante   was   dancing   with   was   more   than   what   she   had   thought.   He   was   one   of   my   kind.
Within  the  crowd  I  searched,  with  all  my  senses   I  looked,  then  found  him  headed  towards  the  doors  to   the  outside.  He  was  the  only  thing  I  focused  on  at  that   point   and   everything   else   no   longer   mattered.   I   had   made  my  way  outside,  forgetting  that  the  evening  had   been  a  rain  soaked  one.  I  had  found  him  at  the  foot  of   the   steps,   gazing   into   the   city,   holding   a   hand   to   his   face,  cupping  his  hand  to  protect  his  cigarette  lighter’s   flame  as  he  lit  himself  a  cigarette.  He  flicked  the  top  of   the   lighter   down,   killing   the   flame   and   lowered   his   hand.   I   stood   quietly   behind   him,   watching   him,   wondering  if  he  even  knew  I  was  there.  He  took  a  drag   then  spoke.
“Funny,”  he  said  with  the  smoke  escaping  from   his   mouth.   “I   figured   I   was   the   only   one   like   me   who   hung  out  at  galas  like  this.  What’re  you  doing  here?”       He  knew  I  was  there.  He  knew  what  I  was.  He   knew  I  knew  what  he  was  also.  He  spoke  in  a  cool  and   confident   voice   while   tilting   his   head   and   moving   his   hand   to   and   from   his   face,   inhaling   and   exhaling   his   cigarette.  I  slowly  took  my  place  beside  him  at  the  foot   of   the   steps,   but   I   was   sure   not   to   make   it   a   point   to   turn  to  see  his  face  just  yet,  I  was  curious,  but  I  didn’t   want  to  seem  too  much  so.  I  looked  forward  onto  the   streets  and  watched  the  passing  cars  go  by.  Out  of  the   corner  of  my  eye  I  could  see  him  look  down  at  my  feet.   He   took   another   drag   and   emptied   the   smoke   from   out  of  the  corner  of  his  mouth  before  speaking  again.       “Kind  of  a  bad  night  to  be  wearing  white,  don’t   you  think?”
I  looked  down  and  saw  that  in  my  rush  after  the   mysterious   Vampire   I   never   bothered   to   lift   the   bottom  of  my  dress  over  my  feet.  The  rain  had  left  the   city  cool  and  damp  and  now  my  gown  acted  as  a  mop   with  a  good  collection  of  rain  soaked  dirt  gathered  at   the  bottom  of  it.

He   chuckled,   flicking   his   cigarette   to   the   ground  and  stamping  it  out  with  the  tip  of  his  leather   clad  shoe.  I  finally  turned  to  look  him  in  the  eyes,  and   as   I   did   I   was   met   with   two   deep   dark   eyes   of   brown   that   glittered   from   the   surrounding   lights.   He   was   middle   aged   when   he   was   made   a   Vampire,   probably   around  the  early  forties.  He  raised  his  hand  to  smooth   out   his   eyebrows   then   his   mustache,   all   the   while   keeping   that   smile   on   his   face.   He   had   a   prominent   face  I  guess  you  could  say,  his  features  were  manly,  but   at   the   same   time   smooth.   He   had   the   looks   of   the   movie   stars   of   that   age.   Serena   would   definitely   love   him  on  sight.  If  anything  I  guess  he  could  pass  for  an   Errol   Flynn   look   alike.   He   looked   every   bit   as   confident   as   he   sounded.   Besides   that   I   couldn’t   help   but   take   offense   at   his   amusement   at   what   happened   to  my  dress.
“You  think  that’s  funny?”  I  asked.
Without   hesitation   he   nodded   yes.   “I   think   it’s   damn   funny.   What,   you   never   seen   another   of   your   kind  before?”

I   wanted   to   tell   him   who   I   was   right   there.   I   wanted  to  take  that  pompous  attitude  along  with  that   smile  and  smack  him  over  his  head  with  it.  But  instead   I  waited.  I  wanted  to  know  what  all  he  knew.       “And  what  kind  would  that  be?”  I  asked.       He  scoffed  at  me  while  taking  another  Cigarette   out  of  his  inside  pocket  and  lighting  up  once  again.  He   took  a  long  drag  while  looking  back  at  the  doors,  as  if   he   was   expecting   to   find   someone   waiting   there   for   him.   Then   he   looked   back   at   me,   exhaling   before   placing  his  cigarette  back  in  his  mouth,  taking  another   drag   from   it.   The   glowing   orange   from   the   tip   of   it   drew  back  more  and  more  until  most  of  the  white  that   was   once   there   had   now   turned   a   dirty   gray   ash   and   fell   away.   Like   the   one   before   it,   he   flicked   the   cigarette  to  the  ground  and  stomped  the  remainder  of   it   out.   He   turned   away   from   me,   back   towards   the   street,  and  exhaled  a  long  breath.  A  pillar  of  smoke  left   his   lips   and   died   in   the   cold   November   night   as   he   began  to  speak.
“You  know  as  well  as  I  do  what  I  mean,”  he  said.      His   eyes   narrowed   as   they   fell   on   mine.   He   stared   at   me   with   a   blank   expression,   and   I   did   the   same  to  him.  Then  a  voice  from  behind  us  interrupted   our  staring  contest.

“Olivier?”   It   was   the   mother   of   the   debutante.   “We   wondered   where   you’d   gone   to.   You   plan   on   staying  outside  in  this  foul  weather  all  night?”       He  curled  the  right  corner  of  his  lip  then  turned   and  answered,  “I’ll  be  in  in  a  second,  just  needed  some   air  is  all.”
The  woman  nods  her  head  then  slowly  retreats   back   inside   but   not   before   she   takes   more   than   enough   time   to   look   me   up   and   down,   no   doubt   wondering   just   who   I   was   and   why   was   he   talking   to   me.

“She   thinks   you’re   a   little   young   for   me   to   be   consorting  with,”  he  says  as  he  begins  his  trek  back  up   the  stairs.
“Really?”  I  say.  “And  I  guess  her  daughter  is  the   exception?”
Without   even   turning   back   to   look   at   me   he   quickly   answered,   “Don’t   speak   on   things   you   know   nothing  about,  dear  girl.”
“You  can  read  minds  too?”  I  asked  him.       He   stopped   at   the   top   of   the   stairs   and   finally   looked  back  at  me  where  I  hadn’t  moved.

“I   figured   you   knew   what   she   was   thinking   without  having  to  read  her  mind  in  the  first  place,  but   I  thought  I’d  fill  you  in.”
“You  didn’t  have  to.  I  can  read  minds  as  well  as   you  can...Olivier.  What  kind  of  name  is  that  anyway?”      Again  he  chuckled  and  looked  at  the  bottom  of   my  gown.  “So  are  you  just  going  to  stay  out  here  and   soak  up  all  the  water  that’s  left  on  the  steps  or  are  you   coming  back  in?”
While  there  was  really  no  reason  to  bother  this   time,  I  lifted  the  bottom  of  my  dress  over  my  feet  and   ascended   the   steps   slowly   until   I   found   myself   beside   him  once  more.  We  walked  side  by  side  until  we  got  to   the   doors   and   he   opened   them   for   me.   Once   inside   I   found   myself   being   guided,   dirty   gown   and   all,   towards  the  young  lady  of  the  evening.  I  couldn’t  help   but   feel   almost   all   the   eyes   of   the   people   who   were   there   that   night   being   drawn   to   the   bottom   of   my   gown  and  know  what  all  they  were  thinking.       I   put   their   thoughts   from   my   mind   and   continued  on  as  we  got  closer  and  closer  to  the  young   lady   and   her   mother.   Once   we   did   get   there,   her   mother’s   eyes   fell   on   me,   and   while   she   was   quick   to   try  and  hide  her  disdain  for  me  up  close,  I  still  caught   it   right   before   she   hid   it   behind   a   poor   attempt   at   a   modest  smile.
“Well,   who   is   this   you   have   with   you   Olivier?”   she   asked   while   placing   a   glass   of   champagne   to   her   mouth   to   take   a   sip   while   looking   through   slightly   narrowed  and  irritated  eyes  at  me.
Placing   his   hand   on   the   small   of   my   back,   he   pushed   me   forward   so   instead   of   standing   slightly   behind  him  I  now  stood  right  next  to  him.  He  wanted   them   to   see   what   had   become   of   my   clothes,   to   embarrass  me.
“This  is,”  he  started  before  turning  to  me  with  a   cocky,  albeit,  kind  of  handsome  smirk,  waiting  for  me   to  finish  his  sentence.  I  turned  to  him  for  a  second  and   locked   eyes   with   him   and   gave   my   own   upturned   sly   grin   before   turning   back   to   the   debutante   and   her   mother.   Clearly   and   pronounced   as   I   could,   I   made   sure   that   my   fellow   Vampire   heard   my   name   without   question.
“Lilith,   Madame   Adamsworth.   My   name   is   Lilith.”
I  slightly  turned  my  head  to  catch  a  glimpse  of   Olivier’s   expression.   And   what   an   expression   it   was.   He  turned  as  pale  as  a  ghost,  something  I  didn’t  even   know   was   possible   amongst   Vampires,   but   there   he   was.   His   face   a   deadened   white   and   his   jaw   slightly   agape   while   those   dark   brown   eyes   of   his   grew   wide.   The  debutante  noticed  the  look  on  his  face  and  placed   her  hand  on  the  cuff  of  his  sleeve.
“Are  you  alright?”  she  asked.
He   turned   from   me   to   her   to   me   to   her   again   and   quickly   nodded   his   head   while   trying   his   best   to   regain  his  composure  and  digging  inside  his  tuxedo  for   another  smoke.

As  much  as  I  didn’t  want  to,  I  let  the  laugh  that   had  been  building  up  inside  of  me  from  the  moment  I   caught   his   expression   die   in   my   throat,   only   letting   a   fake  cough  slip  from  me  to  mask  it.
“Are   you   sure   you’re   okay?”   The   mother   asked   looking  at  the  both  of  us  with  utter  confusion.       Olivier  was  quick  to  assure  the  both  of  them  he   was  fine  as  he  finally  pulled  another  cigarette  from  his   jacket   after   struggling   for   seconds   to   get   one   out.   A   few  seconds  of  more  than  uncomfortable  silence  went   by,   but   the   debutante   managed   to   put   that   childlike   smile   on   her   face   again.   She   took   his   hand   into   hers   then  drew  him  to  her,  hugging  him  tightly.
“I’m   so   glad   you   came,   Uncle   Olivier.   It   just   wouldn't  have  been  right  without  you  here.”       Uncle?   Now   it   was   my   turn   to   be   shocked,   although,   unlike   Olivier,   I   did   a   better   job   of   keeping   the  surprise  just  under  the  surface  of  my  expressions.       With   his   unlit   cigarette   in   one   hand,   he   used   the   other   to   gently   rub   the   back   of   his   niece.   With   a   warm   chuckle,   he   kissed   the   girl   on   her   forehead   before   they   both   broke   from   one   another   slowly.   He   took  her  hand  in  his  now  and  looked  her  in  her  eyes.       “You  think  I’d  miss  my  niece’s  biggest  moment   of  her  life?”  They  both  laughed  before  she  hugged  him   once  more.
Then   she   was   needed   elsewhere.   Someone   on   the  upper  level  wanted  to  give  her  a  toast  and  as  much   as  she  wanted  him  to  accompany  her  and  her  mother   he  was  quick  to  say  no.
“No,   I   can’t,   Charlotte,”   he   said.   “I   think   it   might  have  been  something  I  ate,  but  all  of  a  sudden,   I’m  just  not  feeling  all  that  well.”
“Oh   my,”   the   mother   said.   “Perhaps   I   should   call  you  a  cab?”
Olivier   lit   his   cigarette   and   took   a   quick   drag   from   it   before   he   answered,   “No,   that   won’t   be   necessary,  I  can  drive  myself  home.”
“Are  you  sure?”  Charlotte  asked.
Again  he  nodded  yes  before  kissing  her  on  the   cheek  and  sending  her  and  her  mother  on  their  way.  I   stood   there   saying   nothing,   still   trying   to   figure   out   everything   that   I’ve   seen   and   heard   up   to   that   moment.

He  looked  on  as  they  went  up  the  staircase  and   waved  goodbye  to  them  before  they  disappeared  from   view.   Once   they   did   he   turned   to   me,   cigarette   in   mouth  with  a  look  of  concern  in  his  eyes.  He  removed   the   cigarette   and   exhaled   before   leaning   into   my   ear   saying   one   word   to   me,   “Lilith?”   In   the   questioning   I   heard   all   the   worry,   slight   fear,   and   even   a   trace   of   anger.  But  this  was  different.  He  wasn’t  fearful  for  his   own   well-‐being   but...for   someone   else.   In   the   years   since  I  had  known  that  there  were  others  like  me  and   Serena,  I  had  come  across  plenty,  and  everyone,  every   single   one   of   them,   upon   learning   who   I   was   seemed   to  cower  in  fear,  but  a  fear  that  was  brought  on  by  that   of   a   strange   kind   of   combination   of   respect   and   admiration   from   the   stories   they   had   heard   of   me.   “The  Mother  of  all  Vampires,”  is  what  they  called  me.   The  sound  in  Olivier’s  voice  wasn’t  any  different  from   that  aspect,  just  who  his  fear  was  for.

He   leaned   back   from   me,   and   I   could   see   his   face  turn  to  a  hard  scowl.
“Let  me  take  you  home,”  he  said  in  a  voice  that   had  become  cold,  almost  emotionless.
“I  can  take  myself  home  very  easily,”  I  said  in  a   voice  that  matched  his  tone.
“You’re  not  staying  here,”  he  was  quick  to  say.

“Who’re   you   to   tell   me   what   I   can   and   I   can’t   do?”
Just   then   the   sounds   of   the   big   band   kicked   in   once   more   and   the   entire   ballroom   filled   with   their   notes.   As   if   it   were   some   sort   of   cue,   Olivier   took   my   hand  and  dragged  me  through  the  dancing  crowd  and   to   the   outside.   Once   outside   I   broke   from   him.   Enraged  I  brought  my  hand  up,  ready  to  use  my  nails   to  cut  those  movie  star  looks  off  of  him.  In  mid-‐swing   he   caught   my   hand   and   almost   instantly,   his   eyes   turned   from   brown   to   a   cold   silver.   We   were   both   about  to  go  at  each  other  right  outside  the  doors  of  his   niece’s   party.   Before   another   move   could   be   made   by   either  of  us  though,  a  voice  from  behind  interrupted.       “Hey!  What’s  going  on  up  there?”
He  held  the  wrist  of  my  hand  that  was  ready  to   tear  at  him  while  his  other  rested  on  my  stomach.  By   this  time  both  of  us  were  semi-‐transformed  into  what   we   really   were.   Olivier’s   grip   on   me   loosened   enough   for  me  to  pull  away  from  him.  I  took  a  step  back  and   looked  at  him  unflinchingly  and  he  did  the  same.       “I   said   is   there   a   problem?”   the   voice   from   behind  us  asked  again.
The   sound   of   footsteps   from   behind   quickly   calmed   the   both   of   us   and   Olivier   turned   his   head   to   see   a   police   patrolman   quickly   headed   towards   us   up   the  stairs  with  nightstick  in  hand.  The  silver  in  his  eyes   faded   as   did   mine,   and   we   both   resembled   normal   people  of  the  night  once  again.
“No,”   Olivier   said.   “No,   officer,   there’s   no   trouble   at   all.   My...girl,   she   just   had   a   little   too   much   to  drink.  That’s  all.  I’m  ready  to  go  home  and  she  can’t   stand  to  leave  the  drinks  behind.  You  know  how  it  is,   Officer.”
Olivier   laughed.   A   well   acted   fake   laugh   to   try   to  take  some  of  the  tension  out  of  the  air.  The  heavyset   officer  now  stood  directly  to  the  side  of  the  both  of  us.   I  could  see  the  officer  look  at  me  with  his  head  cocked,   biting   his   bottom   lip   while   gently   rapping   his   leg   lightly  with  his  nightstick.  His  eyes  studied  the  both  of   us,   trying   to   see   if   Olivier   was   telling   the   truth   about   the  scene  he  had  come  across.
Finally,  “She’s  a  little  young  to  be  your  girl,  isn’t   she  mister?
I  couldn’t  help  but  let  a  little  laugh  escape  from   me.  Olivier  turned  around,  with  a  look  that  I  still  don’t   know  was  mocked  up  or  truly  one  of  offense.       “What  does  that  mean?”  he  asked.
The   officer   brought   his   nightstick   up   to   his   other   hand   and   placed   it   there   firmly   while   looking   hard  at  Olivier.
“It   means,”   the   officer   started,   “that   you   look   more  than  twice  her  age.”
“What  business  is  it  of  yours  anyway?”       I   quickly   spoke   up   for   myself   before   things   came   to   a   head.   “Actually   officer,   he’s   little   less   than   twice  my  age.  But  you  were  close.”
The   patrolman   walked   up   to   Olivier   and   as   he   did   I   moved   forward,   placing   my   arm   around   Olivier.   He   turned   to   look   at   me,   that   smirk   returning   as   he   did.

The   officer   looked   at   the   both   of   us   like   someone  trying  to  figure  out  a  puzzle.
Finally,   “Alright,   but   you   two   best   be   going   if   you’re  going  to  go.  Understand?”
We  both  nodded  yes  and  watched  as  the  officer   quickly  went  down  the  stairs  and  disappeared  into  the   night.  With  a  heavy  sigh,  Olivier  took  his  arm  from  me   and  looked  me  in  my  eyes  again.  This  time  though,  the   coldness   and   anger   that   had   been   there   before   had   now  vanished.  There  was  still  an  uneasiness  there  but   the  expression  in  his  face  had  softened.
“Come  on,  I’ll  take  you  home,”  he  said  quietly.       He   started   down   the   stairs   when   he   looked   back   at   me.   I   stood   where   I   had   been,   unmoving   and   unwilling   to   go   anywhere   with   him   until   I   found   out   what  he  was  doing.
“What  was  that  all  about?  Just  before  the  patrol   man  came  along?”  I  asked  him.
He   stopped,   one   foot   on   the   top   step   and   the   other   on   the   step   below   that.   He   looked   at   me   for   a   long   time.   There   wasn’t   really   anything   to   it.   It   was   just  a  stare,  no  emotion  in  his  face  or  eyes  that  I  could   read  unlike  moments  before.  Each  breath  he  took  and   exhaled   escaped   into   the   night   as   a   mist   as   he   stood   there   saying   nothing   while   he   stood   in   a   makeshift   spotlight   formed   by   the   lights   of   the   ballroom   windows  he  stood  in  front  of.  Finally  he  started  down   the  steps  again.  I  would  follow  him.  He  knew  I’d  follow   him,  and  yet  I  don’t  know  how  he’d  know.  I  was  always   the  one  who  had  men  follow  behind  her.  I  was  always   the  one  who  was  in  control  of  things.  I  was  always  the   one   who   pulled   the   strings   of   any   situation   when   she   chose  to.  But  now...
“Where  are  you  going?”  I  asked  him.
He  said  nothing  as  he  reached  the  bottom  step   with  me  following  a  few  feet  behind.  The  night’s  chili   air   had   started   to   get   to   me.   Olivier   had   dragged   me   out   of   that   ballroom   so   fast   that   I   left   both   my   purse   and  my  coat  I  had  brought  with  me.
“Answer  me!”  I  demanded  of  him.
He   still   said   nothing   with   his   back   still   turned   to   me,   heading   across   the   damp   street   with   hands   firmly   in   pockets   looking   forward,   ignoring   me   as   if   I   wasn’t  even  there.  Despite  wanting  to  stop,  to  jump  on   him  and  rip  his  throat  out,  to  turn  back  and  enter  the   ballroom   and   the   warmth   of   that   building,   I   followed   on,   like   a   puppy   after   its   master,   I   followed.   Despite   the   fact   I   felt   like   the   biggest   fool   and   knowing   full   well   he   was   playing   me   for   one,   I   followed   on   into   a   parking  lot.  Perhaps  it  was  because  he  was  the  first  to   ever   take   such   a   stance   with   me.   Perhaps   because   he   knew  who  I  was  and  yet  didn’t  show  any  fear  at  all  for   himself  that  made  me  follow.  Looking  back  now  I  was   more   intrigued   than   anything   about   that   man.   That   bold   and   brash   Vampire   that   he   was,   leading   me   without  hesitation  or  fear  of  what  I  might  do  to  him.     He   pulled   his   left   hand   out   of   his   pocket   and   pointed   straight   ahead.   “We’re   here,”   he   said,   still   in   that  soft  voice  of  his.
“And  where  is  here?”  I  asked  irritably.       “Here   would   be   my   car,”   he   answered   nonchalantly.
He  went  to  the  passenger’s  side  and  opened  it.   He   looked   at   me   once   more   and   again   that   smirk   returned   with   the   addition   of   one   right   raised   eyebrow.
“You   do   know   who   I   am,   don’t   you?”   I   asked   him   in   a   cold   voice   with   a   stare   that   was   equally   as   cold.
“I  know  who  you  are.  Get  in.”
I   slowly   made   my   way   inside   his   car,   brushing   past   him   as   I   did.   His   car   was   elegant   and   stylish,   a   classic  symbol  for  someone  who  had  more  money  than   they  knew  what  to  do  with.  He  was  quick  to  get  to  the   driver’s  side  and  let  himself  in.  I  watched  him  while  he   dug  in  his  pockets,  trying  to  find  the  keys.  And  when   he   did,   he   placed   them   in   the   ignition,   twisted   it   and   after   a   couple   of   turns   of   the   engine,   the   car   came   to   life  and  was  ready  to  pull  out  of  the  parking  lot.
“The  Reason  I  pulled  you  out  of  there  like  that   is   because   I   didn’t   know   what   your   intentions   were,”   he   said,   rubbing   his   hands   together   for   warmth.   “For   all  I  knew  you  could’ve  been  there  for  my  niece,  and  I   wasn’t   going   to   let   that   happen.   I   know   who   you   are.   Every  Vampire  who  walks  the  earth  knows  your  name.   Knows   what   you’ve   done.   Knows   what   you   are   to   them.  Which  is  why  I’m  wondering  what  you’re  doing   at  a  place  like  this.”
He  turned  to  me,  cocking  his  head  and  leaning   back,   watching   me   intently   waiting   to   see   what   I   would   say.   I   rubbed   my   arms,   flashing   a   smile   at   him   before  saying  anything.
“You   say   you   weren’t   going   to   let   me   at   your   niece?  Do  you  even  think  you  could  stop  me?  Do  you?”   He  said  nothing,  keeping  that  same  expression  on  his   face   the   entire   time.   “Of   course   you   know   I   wasn’t   there   for   your   niece,   or   for   anyone   else   there   for   that   matter.  Although,  I  would’ve  been  more  than  happy  to   make   a   meal   out   of   someone,   if   the   opportunity   presented   itself.   You   knew   that   the   second   you   grabbed   my   arm.   You   read   me.   In   all   my   experiences   with  our  kind  there  are  very  few  who  can  actually  read   one   another.   Is   that   why   you’re   taking   me   home,   because   I   no   longer   pose   a   threat   to   those   you   care   about?”
“That   and   just   incase   you   decide   to   become   a   threat.”

I  scoffed  at  him.  “In  which  case  brings  me  back   to   my   question.”   I   said.   “Do   you   actually   think   you   could  stop  me  if  I  really  wanted  your  niece  for  myself?”       He  turns  around  to  face  the  steering  wheel  then   pauses.   “If   you   ever   try   anything   we’ll   both   find   out...won’t  we?”
He   turns   to   me,   eyes   narrowed   with   a   seriousness  in  them  I  hadn’t  seen,  not  even  when  the   two  of  us  were  about  to  tear  at  each  other  outside  the   doors  of  the  ballroom.  I  sunk  back  into  my  seat  with  a   smile  and  looked  forward  into  the  night,  making  sure   he   heard   the   sound   of   confidence   in   my   voice,   “If   that’s  what  you  think.”

Chapter 10

Four   nights   after   my   encounter   with   Olivier   I   received  a  knock  at  my  door.  And  whom  should  I  see   standing  on  the  other  side  of  it  with  my  coat  and  purse   then  Olivier  himself.
“I  was  told  you  had  lost  these.  My  niece  found   them  and  remembered  your  name  when  she  looked  in   your  purse  to  see  who  it  belonged  to.”
With   a   soft   smile   I   leaned   on   the   side   of   my   doorway   and   crossed   my   arms,   “How   kind   of   you   to   give  them  back,”  I  said.
He   passed   them   forward   with   a   smirk,   “Least   I   could  do.”
I   took   my   belongings   from   him,   still   keeping   my  smile  while  he  stood  there,  hands  in  the  pockets  of   his   black   trench   coat   that   was   wrapped   around   a   pinstriped  business  suit.  His  eyes  searched  what  parts   of  my  apartment  he  could  see  while  a  look  as  if  he  was   expecting  something  grew  on  his  face.
Taking   the   hint   I   asked,   “Would   you   like   to   come  in?”
The  smirk  grew  wider  and  quietly  he  walked  in,   slightly   leaning   over   a   bit   while   removing   the   ivory   colored   fedora   he   had   on   his   head   and   placing   it   against   his   chest.   He   did   a   slow   circle   around   my   apartment  walking  from  one  corner  to  the  other,  as  if   he  was  inspecting  it  for  something.
“Looking   for   anything   I   should   know   of?”   I   asked   placing   my   things   on   the   couch.   He   merely   smiled  as  he  looked  back  at  me  and  shook  his  head.       “No,  just  looking  is  all,”  he  said.
He   then   moved   forward   again   to   the   window   and   dropped   his   hat   by   his   side.   A   drawn   out   whistle   left  his  lips  while  he  shook  his  head  again.
“Some  kind  of  view  you  have  here.”
He  turned  back  to  me,  that  funny  looking  smile   still  on  his  face  as  he  reached  inside  his  trench  coat.  I   stood   at   the   edge   of   my   couch,   arms   crossed   once   again,  eyes  narrowed  trying  my  best  to  shape  this  man   up.  He  pulled  out  a  pack  of  cigarettes  and  placed  them   up.
“Do  you  mind?”  he  asked  politely.
“No,”  I  said.  “Do  as  you  wish.”
A   single   nod   followed   by   a   quick   reach   in   his   pants   pocket   for   his   lighter   and   seconds   later   that   familiar  sight  of  him  with  the  orange  glowing  tip  of  a   cigarette  stared  at  me.  Saying  nothing  else  to  me  at  all   he  made  his  way  to  the  couch  and  sat  down,  crossing   his  legs  and  looking  over  the  place  as  if  he  owned  it.       “Please,”  I  scoffed,  “Make  yourself  at  home.”       Taking  another  drag  of  his  smoke  he  looked  at   me  arrogantly  while  letting  the  smoke  escape  from  the   corner  of  his  mouth.  “I  just  did,”  he  said  confidently.

I  found  his  attitude  refreshing  to  be  honest.  He   didn’t  seem  to  care  and  he  played  that  for  everything  it   was  worth,  and  admittedly  it  worked  for  him.       After  taking  another  drag  from  his  cigarette  he   looked   at   me   again   and   asked,   “Aren’t   you   going   to   offer  me  something  to  drink  too?”
I   rolled   my   eyes   before   sitting   down   next   to   him.   “What   do   you   want?”   I   asked   with   just   a   hint   of   irritation  coming  through  the  question.
He   chuckled   and   took   another   extraordinarily   long  drag  of  his  cigarette,  finishing  it  out  and  flicking   the   ashes   of   it   in   his   now   empty   cigarette   packet.   He   placed  it  on  the  coffee  table  in  front  of  him  along  with   his  feet  covered  in  two-‐toned  colored  black  and  white   leather   shoes   that   looked   newly   spit   shined,   leaning   back   into   my   couch   and   exhaling   a   long   breath   of   smoke   that   floated   up   to   the   ceiling.   As   much   as   I   liked   his   attitude   it   had   its   limits   and   it   had   just   reached  mine.
“I  think  it’s  time  for  you  to  leave,”  I  demanded,   getting   ready   to   stand   up   and   show   him   to   the   door.   When  he  stopped  me  with  what  he  said  next.       “Compared  to  you  I  haven’t  been  this  way...this   long.  It’s  been  a  little  over  three  years  now  and  I’m  still   trying  to  get  the  hang  of  it.”
In   his   voice   the   attitude   I   had   been   hearing   since  the  moment  I  met  him  had  fled.  In  its  place  was   that  of  someone  who  just  wanted  to  talk.  To  be  heard.   I   slowly   sunk   back   in   the   couch   and   leaned   back   and   looked  at  him.

His   expression   was   blank,   calm   and   collected   one   could   say   but   if   only   on   the   fringes   of   that.   He   placed   his   hat   on   his   knee   and   focused   his   eyes   on   a   spot  on  the  couch  next  to  where  I  had  sat  my  hand.  He   looked   at   it,   as   if   he   was   waiting   for   something   to   happen  there.
Finally,   “You   live   your   life   not   believing   any   of   that   stuff.   Monsters   in   the   dark,   the   boogieman   in   your   closet,   Frankenstein   and   Dracula.   They   can’t   possibly   exist.   Then   one   night   everything   you   believed   sorta...crashes   to   earth   around   you   and   your   left   with   this  questioning.  Why  and  how?”
He   looked   up   at   me   with   a   mixed   wonder   and   doubt  in  his  eyes.  Wondering  if  I  even  cared,  doubting   himself  and  whether  he  should  even  go  on.

“Continue,”  I  urged  him.
“I   was   born   into   what   I   have.   Luxury,   riches,   advantages  and  all  that  stuff  of  the  rich.  And  I  wanted   to  break  away  from  all  that.  So  that’s  what  I  did.  I  tried   to  make  my  own  way  in  life.  Traveled  the  world,  trying   to  see  what  I  wanted  to  do.  I  did  that  for  about  twenty-‐ two  or  so  years.  Finally,  when  I  settled  on  Wall  Street,   making   money   by   helping   others   make   even   more   of   it,   I   soon   started   to   regret   my   decision.   After   fifteen   years  of  that  I  needed  a  break.  So  I  took  a  vacation.  I   went   to   England.   I   had   been   there   as   a   teenager   and   always   had   a   fondness   for   it.   So   when   I   went   back   it   seemed  perfect  that  I  would  meet  this  interesting,  if  a   little   odd,   woman   there.   She   said   many   things.   I   thought   she   was   kidding.   Or   maybe   she   had   an   over   active   imagination.   She   said   she   could   do   all   these   things.   Said   she   could   live   forever   and   take   me   away   from   the   life   that   I   knew   and   all   I   had   to   do   was   ask   and  she’d  do  the  same  for  me.”
He   stopped   for   a   few   seconds   and   a   stillness   formed   on   him   as   a   smile   returned   to   his   face.   For   a   second  it  looked  as  if  regret  had  made  an  appearance.   A   brief   moment   it   was   or   Olivier   was   very   good   at   covering  it  up.
“So  jokingly  I  told  her  to  ‘take  me  away  from  all   this.’  How  was  I  to  know  that  she’d  be  a  woman  of  her   word?   The   rest   of   the   night   was   a   blur   to   me.   All   I   remember  was  waking  in  my  hotel  room  the  next  day.   Walking   out   into   the   day   lit   room   and   feeling   this   intense  pain.  It  took  me  quite  a  few  days  to  know  what   had  happened  to  me.  And  even  after  that  it  took  a  very   long  time  to  accept  it.  Hell,  I’m  still  trying  to  accept  it.   No  one  knows  what  I’ve  become,  what  I  am  now.  I  still   don’t  know  that  much  about  it  myself.”
I  looked  at  him  and  spoke  softly,  “But  you  know   enough   to   know   who   I   am.   You   know   enough   to   use   your   abilities   when   you   need   to.   So   you’re   obviously   getting  used  to  it.”
He  laughed  halfheartedly,  his  eyes  falling  to  the   floor.  “Perhaps.  But  there  has  to  be  a  better  way  than   this.  I  won’t  take  anyone’s  life.”
I   turned   toward   him,   biting   my   bottom   lip   before   asking,   “Then   how   do   you   take   care   of   your   thirst?  As  much  as  you  want  to  you  can  only  ignore  it   for  so  long.”
His  face  hardened  and  his  eyes  seemed  to  sink   further   away   from   me.   “I’m   not   a   killer,”   he   said   in   almost   a   whisper.   Then   his   eyes   shot   forward   and   his   face   cracked   with   an   uneasy   happiness.   “I’ve   found   ways   around   doing   such   things.”   He   then   turned   to   me,   his   smile   softening   a   bit   while   tilting   his   head   a   little   then   running   his   eyes   up   and   down   and   up   and   down  on  me  again  before  finally  stopping  on  my  face.   “I  want  to  show  you  something.”

Within   the   hour   we   were   at   his   home.   A   sprawling  estate  of  a  home  in  a  small  area  just  outside   of   the   city.   His   place   of   residence   was   a   four-‐story   Victorian   style   home   that   looked   every   bit   as   glamorous   as   one   might   expect   someone   with   money   to  have.  The  home  was  a  pearl  white  color,  which  I’m   sure,  had  an  amazing  glow  to  it  when  the  sun  hit  it  in   the  daytime.  A  flight  of  steps  leads  up  to  an  oak  wood   door.
“Excuse   me,”   he   says   searching   for   his   keys   in   his   pocket.   Finally   he   finds   them   and   after   fumbling   around  with  the  lock  he  opens  the  door  to  a  huge  front   room   with   marble   white   floors   and   a   wooden   spiral   staircase  just  off  to  the  right  as  you  enter.  “This  way,”   he  points  to  the  stairs.  “this  is  where  I  keep  them.”     He  leads  me  up  the  stairs  and  to  a  locked  door.   He  tells  me  it’s  the  door  to  his  office.  Despite  being  a   Vampire,  he  doesn’t  stop  that  from  letting  him  make  a   living.
“Nowadays,”   he   starts,   “I   have   to   make   a   few   well   placed   phone   calls   but   in   the   end   I   still   make   money  by  making  other  people  money.  A  few  of  those   people  are  pretty  high  up  and  when  you  make  friends   with   that   kind   of   clout   you   can   have   some   strings   pulled  for  you,  and  nine  times  out  of  ten  there’ll  be  no   questions  asked.”
He   opens   the   door   to   his   office   and   we   go   in.   There   really   wasn’t   anything   to   it.   A   typical   office   setup   with   your   desk,   phone,   charts   of   whatever   he   needed   charts   for.   But   next   to   his   desk   was   a   small   refrigeration  unit.
“What  is  that  for?”  I  asked.
He   knelt   down   and   merely   turned   back   at   me,   that   all   too   familiar   smirk   glowing   from   his   face.   He   opened  it  up  and  a  rush  of  cold  air  escaped  as  a  mass   of  foggy  mist  but  once  that  cleared  he  placed  his  hand   inside  and  pulled  out  a  clear  bag  that  was  filled  with  a   crimson  substance.
“What  is  that?”  I  asked  again,  though  having  an   idea  this  time.
He   stood   back   and   tore   the   packet   open   then   handed  it  to  me.  “Here,”  he  said.  My  eyes  narrowed  a   bit,  studying  the  back  intently,  then  my  senses  kicked   in.  That  smell,  that  sweet  and  bitter  smell  hit  me  and   sent  a  rush  through  me.  My  mouth  opened  a  fraction   and  I  felt  the  familiar  urge  to  drink  at  the  mere  scent   of  it.

It   was   blood.   I   slowly   reached   my   hand   out   to   his   and   took   the   bag   from   him.   I   placed   it   up   to   my   nose  and  took  in  a  deep  breath  of  it.  I  closed  my  eyes   as  I  savored  it,  taking  in  the  aroma  and  taste  before  I   even   placed   it   against   my   lips.   I   then   took   a   sip   of   it,   and   the   reaction   I   had   wasn’t   what   I   had   bet   on.   I   coughed   and   gagged   at   first,   which   only   got   a   good   laugh   from   Olivier.   It   was   cold,   dry   and   sort   of   stale.   Not  what  I  was  used  to  at  all.
“The   smell   of   it   is   deceiving,”   I   told   him.   “You   actually  drink  this?”
He   nodded   yes   before   taking   the   packet   from   me  and  taking  a  huge  swallow  for  himself.  “I  guess  for   someone   like   you   it   takes   some   getting   used   to.   They’re   from   blood   banks   from   around   all   the   hospitals   in   the   area   of   New   York.   It   certainly   beats   having   to   kill   someone   or   something.   Don’t   you   agree?”
He  held  the  bag  up  to  my  face,  but  despite  how   it  smelled,  the  memory  of  how  it  tasted  was  more  than   enough  for  me  to  quickly  decline.
“Suit   yourself,”   he   said   with   a   smile   that   was   hidden  behind  that  now  half  empty  bag  of  blood.     The   coming   nights   would   be   spent   with   him   going  from  one  side  to  the  other  of  both  the  city  and   state   of   New   York.   Our   relationship   progressed   quickly,  unbeknownst  to  everyone  he  knew,  of  course,   but  soon  enough  we  became  quite  the  pair,  something   I  didn’t  think  was  even  possible  for  those  like  us.  The   nights   would   stretch   into   months   for   us,   some   of   the   best   I   ever   had,   but   even   then   I   couldn’t   escape   it.   What  I  am  and  what  he  wanted  me  to  be.  The  longing   to   live   my   life   the   way   I   wanted   to   was   calling   to   me   and  it  was  getting  hard  to  ignore.

“Something’s   bothering   you,”   he   told   me   as   he   had   his   arms   wrapped   around   me.   The   both   of   us   stood  together  on  the  roof  of  my  building  celebrating   the  New  Year  that  was  now  three  hours  old,  staring  at   the  clear  sky  whose  pale  moon  stared  down  back  at  us.   He   had   me   buried   within   his   trench   coat   holding   me   against   him   as   I   tried   to   ignore   the   cold   that   hit   my   face.  Earlier  in  the  evening  we  had  been  to  the  movie   theater.   And   whom   should   I   see   on   the   screen,   albeit   in  a  very  bit  part,  but  Serena.  She  was  a  serving  girl  in   a  cafe  whose  only  line  was  “Thank  you,  sir.”  And  that   was   said   to   the   star   of   the   movie   himself.   It   wasn’t   much,   but   I   knew   somewhere   out   there   Serena   was   happy,  she  had  finally  made  it  in  her  heart.  But  seeing   her  for  the  first  time  in  all  those  years  brought  back  so   many  memories,  so  many  feelings  I  buried  so  long  ago.       “So  what  is  it?”  Olivier  persisted.
I   started   to   tell   him.   It   had   been   obvious   my   mood   had   changed,   and   amidst   the   celebrating   my   demeanor   was   less   than   happy   the   entire   night.   But   the  words  I  had  gathered  died  in  my  throat  and  were   replaced   by   nothing   more   than   an,   “I’m   alright.”   He   hunched   down   a   bit   and   leaned   forward   to   place   his   face  next  to  mine.  A  smile  found  its  way  to  my  face  as  I   closed   my   eyes   and   leaned   in   to   him,   taking   in   the   feeling  of  that  hardened  but  smooth  skin  of  his.       Soft   kisses   tickled   my   neck   and   slowly   made   their  way  to  my  cheek  before  finally  resting  on  my  lips.   I  turned  around  to  him,  placing  my  hands  on  his  chest   before   sliding   them   down   to   his   waist   and   placing   them   behind   his   back.   We   embraced   each   other,   pressing  our  bodies  to  each  other’s,  and  under  the  pale   light  of  the  moon,  and  despite  the  cold,  we  made  love   to  one  another  then  and  there.  As  grand  and  nice  as  it   was,   I   knew   that   it   wouldn’t   last.   It   couldn’t.   For   everything  Olivier  was,  the  overwhelming  fact  was  he   was   still   far   too   human,   especially   for   his   own   good.   He   didn’t   want   to   give   that   part   of   him   up.   That   and   the  longing  I  felt...It  was  only  a  matter  of  time  before  it   all  fell  apart.

The   spring   of   1948   would   be   one   of   great   change  for  me.  It  had  become  apparent  to  both  Olivier   and  I  that  our  relationship  was  at  its  end.  As  fun  as  it   had   been,   we   were   just   too   different   in   our   views   of   who  and  what  were  as  Vampires,  for  one  another.  New   York   had   begun   to   feel   closed   in   for   me,   and   I   had   started   to   tire   of   it.   It   had   been   years   since   I   had   traveled,  since  I  had  seen  something  different.  At  some   point   or   other   I   think   I   had   been   to   just   about   every   place  New  York  had  to  offer,  whether  it  be  the  bright   lights   of   Broadway,   the   high   social   gatherings   of   the   upper   east   side,   or   the   smooth   and   jazzy   settings   of   Harlem’s  cotton  club,  I  had  been  there  and  done  that.   As   great   a   city   as   New   York   was   it   was   beginning   to   bore  me.
“I  need  a  change,”  I  said  standing  on  the  terrace   of   Olivier’s   home,   overlooking   the   city   lights   that   flashed  and  shone  from  those  few  miles  away.       “You’ve   been   saying   that   forever,”   an   irritated   voice  came  from  somewhere  in  the  house.
We   had   become   like   an   old   married   couple,   Olivier  and  I.  My  wanting  to  break  free  from  all  of  this   familiarity   had   pushed   Olivier   away   from   me.   Deep   down   it’s   what   I   wanted,   what   I   needed   to   do   for   the   both  of  us.  Even  though  he  knew  our  relationship  was   at  its  end  he  still  tried  so  desperately  to  hold  on,  why  I   still  do  not  know.
“What  do  you  feel  needs  to  change  in  your  life,   Lilith?”  he  asked,  his  voice  getting  closer  and  closer.     Without  hesitation  I  answered  back,   “Everything.”     “Does  that  include  me,  also?”
I  remained  silent,  letting  that  be  my  answer  for   him.

“Interesting,”  he  said  plainly.
With  a  sigh  he  finally  took  his  place  beside  me,   leaning  over  on  the  rail  and  looking  out  into  the  night,   out  onto  the  lights  of  the  city  that  lay  out  there.  A  soft   wind   blew   through   while   in   the   distance   the   faint   sounds   of   thunder   from   a   coming   spring   storm   could   be   heard.   With   a   fresh   scotch   in   one   hand   and   a   cigarette  in  the  other  he  shook  his  head,  his  eyes  fixed   on  those  city  lights.
“You   want   to   change   things   that   don’t   need   it.   But  the  things  that  you  could  work  on  changing  you’re   happy   with,”   He   said.   His   voice   was   snide   with   that   arrogance  coming  through  it.
“What  is  that  supposed  to  mean?”  I  asked.       He   took   a   sip   from   his   scotch   and   quickly   followed  that  with  a  drag  from  his  cigarette.       “You   know   exactly   what   it   means,”   he   said   exhaling.   “You   think   I   don’t   know?”   He   stood   up   straight  and  finished  the  last  of  his  scotch.
“Know  what?”
“The  woman  and  her  husband  you  killed.  I  saw   what   you   did   to   them.   You   waited   for   them   to   leave   that   banquet   then   you   ambushed   them   in   their   car   when  you  thought  no  one  was  watching.”
“You  followed  me?  I  thought-‐”
“I   had   stayed   behind   to   entertain   some   of   the   guests?  I  saw  you  watching  them.  I  saw  you  pick  them   out   as   your   little   meal   as   soon   as   you   laid   eyes   on   them.”
“Then  why  didn’t  you  stop  me?”
“How  could  I?  I  know  how  you  are!”
“Then  you  know  what  I  am  also,  Olivier.”       “Oh  please,  don’t  use  that  as  your  crutch,  Lilith.   You  don’t  see  me  hunting  down  people  like  some...”  he   caught   himself   before   he   said   it.   But   it   was   already   implied.

His  eyes  glazed  over  and  his  lips  formed  a  tight   line.   His   face   hardened   like   rock   with   course   lines   in   his   forehead   and   cheeks   giving   definitions   of   the   emotions  going  on  within  him.
“Animal?”  I  finished  his  sentence  for  him.       “There   are   just   other   ways   of   doing   things,   Lilith.”

“Drinking   from   freezing   cold   bags   of   blood?   That’s   your   idea   of   doing   things   different?   I   always   thought   that   idea   was   sad,   pathetic   really.   Why   is   it   you   think   I   still   kill   when   I   can?   Anything   is   better   than  that!”
“You   kill,   Lilith,   because   you   can,   because   you   take  pleasure  in  it,  not  because  you  have  to.  You  are  a   killer   first   and   foremost.   It’s   been   proven   by   me   and   many  others  that  you  don’t  need  to  kill  to  survive;  yet   you   continue   to   do   it.   So   yes,   Lilith...you   are   indeed   like  an  animal.”
I  pictured  slapping  him.  Raking  my  nails  across   his  face.  I  pictured  a  number  of  things.  But  in  the  end  I   merely  smiled  for  I  knew  I  had  found  my  outing  that  I   had  been  looking  for.
“You  still  think  you’re  one  of  them.  That  is  your   weakness,   Olivier.   But   you’re   not.   You   never   will   be   again.   And   if   every   one   of   those   mortals   knew   what   you   really   were   they’d   cast   you   out   for   the   fear   you’d   instill  in  them.  They  would  think  of  you  as  you  think   of  me...a  monster.”

He  said  nothing  to  that.  All  the  emotions  in  his   face  fell  away  until  there  was  nothing  there  but  a  blank   slate.
“If   it   puts   you   down   to   such   a   level   to   be   with   me  then  I  will  do  you  the  favor  of  leaving  so  you  won’t   have  to  worry.”
Olivier  said  nothing.  He  placed  his  cigarette  in   his  empty  glass  and  stood  there  with  one  hand  on  his   side.
“Go   ahead,”   he   started.   “It’s   what   you   wanted   anyway.”

I  turned  from  the  lights  and  walked  slowly  into   the  darkened  house,  saying  nothing  at  all.  I  turned  my   head   and   looked   over   my   shoulder   to   see   his   silhouette  in  the  night,  turned  to  the  side,  glass  still  in   one   hand,   the   other   still   on   his   side,   a   finger   tapping   the   side   of   the   glass   while   his   head   turned   back   towards  those  city  lights.

I   left   New   York   that   night.   I   drifted   all   across   the   country.   From   the   north   to   the   south,   even   the   Midwest.   But   inevitably   I   found   myself   in   what   they   called  the  city  of  Angels.  The  year  was  1955.  The  glitz   and   glam   of   Hollywood   had   changed   immensely.   The   classic  beauty  and  glamour  of  Harlow  had  given  way  to   the  white-‐hot  temptations  of  a  sexed  up  Monroe.  The   cool   sensuality   of   Bogart   was   replaced   by   the   unbridled   tortured   soul   of   Dean.   The   golden   age   of   Hollywood   had   faded   away   and   the   town   was   going   through  a  kind  of  rebirth.
L.A.   was   more   laid   back,   more   involved   with   what  it  put  out  to  the  world  than  with  itself.  It  was  a   place   full   of   illusions,   built   on   illusions,   in   order   to   make   illusions   the   world   could   consume.   It   was   late   august  of  that  year  and  I  had  only  been  out  there  for  a   few  weeks,  but  I  had  quickly  acclimated  to  the  lifestyle   and   actually   berated   myself   for   not   going   out   there   sooner.  Everything  New  York  was  Los  Angeles  seemed   to  be  the  opposite.

In  L.A.  life  wasn’t  moving  at  the  speed  of  light,   things  didn’t  seem  so  important.  In  L.A.  image  was  the   most  important  thing.  And  if  you  didn’t  have  an  image   you  had  to  build  one  quick  if  you  wanted  to  be  noticed   and   make   it   here.   There’s   a   joke   that   just   about   everyone   who   lived   in   L.A.   either   wanted   to   be   an   actor   or   already   was.   After   just   a   few   days   I   realized   that   joke   had   a   lot   of   truth   behind   it.   If   you   had   any   aspirations  of  living  that  life  this  was  the  place  to  come   to  do  it.  My  first  few  days  there  I  often  wondered  if  I’d   run  into  Serena  and  indeed,  eventually,  I  would.       It   was   the   last   week   in   September   on   an   unusually   humid   night   for   California.   I   had   finally   moved   everything   into   my   newest   apartment   just   on   the   outskirts   of   the   city   itself.   I   had   been   throughout   L.A.   taking   tours   but   not   really   patrolling,   not   really   taking  it  all  in  until  I  had  moved  in  completely,  which   takes   time   when   you   do   your   moving,   unpacking   and   setting  up  at  night.  Around  nine  that  evening  I  left  my   home  and  made  my  way  into  the  city.  It  had  been  days   since   my   last   kill   and   my   thirst   was   budding.   Even   then   you   could   say   the   people   and   places   within   Hollywood  were...odd  at  best.

There  had  been  a  jazz  club  in  north  Hollywood   that  had  caught  my  attention.  That  would  be  my  first   stop   of   the   new   night   before   moving   on.   This   was   an   exclusive   club,   not   just   anyone   could   come   in.   It   had   been   host   to   some   of   the   biggest   stars   in   the   world.   And,  as  it  would  turn  out,  one  who  was  still  trying  to   get  her  star  to  shine.
“And  you  are?”  The  doorman  said  with  a  gaping   smile,  looking  me  over.  I  brushed  my  hair,  which  had   now   been   dyed   a   Bettie   Page   black   and   straightened,   back   with   a   smile   and   told   him   my   name.   He   was   quick   to   look   over   his   list   of   names   in   a   black   vinyl   notebook  before,  “Nope.  Not  on  here,  ma’am.”       I   flashed   a   candid   smile,   watching   while   some   of   the   biggest   names   in   Hollywood   walked   right   passed  me.
“I  wouldn’t  expect  you  to  know  me,”  I  said.  “I’m   new  here.  Just  moved  here  not  to  long  ago,  actually.”       He  chuckled  a  bit,  closing  his  notebook,  eyeing   the  crowd  that  surrounded  him  then  focusing  back  on   me.  “Do  you  know  anyone  who  could  get  you  in?”  he   asked.
“No,”  I  said  with  a  straight  face.  “I  do  not.  I  was   hoping  maybe-‐”
“Sorry,   ma’am,   can’t   do   that.   If   I   let   in   every   pretty  face  who  asked  me  I’d  be  out  of  a  job.”       “Of  course,”  I  said.
Keep  in  mind  I  could’ve  just  blown  passed  him   without   him   even   seeing   me   if   I   wanted   to.   But   why   should   I   have   to   do   such   things?   I   reached   into   my   purse   and   pulled   out   three   crisp   hundred-‐dollar   bills   and  held  them  up  to  my  chest.  His  eyes  lit  up  and  the   reflection   of   that   money   shone   in   his   eyes   like   a   gray   colored  mirror.  He  looked  about  the  crowd  again  and   then   at   me.   He   put   up   his   hand   towards   where   I   had   placed  the  money,  but  before  he  could  make  contact,  a   familiar  voice  called  out  to  me.  “Lilith?”

I   quickly   spun   around,   knowing   that   voice,   missing   that   voice,   and   loving   how   it   had   sounded   in   all  the  years  it  had  been  absent  from  me.
“Lilith,   it   is   you,”   Serena   screamed.   She   had   been   arm   and   arm   with   some   man   waiting   to   be   shown  in  with  some  of  the  other  Hollywood  giants.       “You  know  her?”  the  doorman  asked.       “Yes,”   she   quickly   answered.   “She’s...”   She   hesitated,   and   the   beaming   smile   that   had   been   painted  on  her  face  faded  for  an  instant,  in  its  place  a   look  of  resolve,  and  a  softer,  more  complacent  look  of   understanding   and   forgiving   emerged.   “She’s   an   old   friend.”
She  reached  out  her  silver  covered  gloved  hand,   to   go   along   with   her   silver   dress,   out   over   the   velvet   rope  to  me.  I  swung  my  head  around  to  the  doorman,   who   looked   as   if   someone   had   given   him   then   snatched   away   his   favorite   toy   once   I   replaced   the   money   in   my   purse.   With   a   wink   and   smile   I   turned   from   him   and   took   Serena’s   hand   and   we   were   together  again,  headed  inside  the  club.

Once   in   we   were   quickly   shown   to   our   table   then   her   date   excused   himself   to   the   men’s   room.   As   soon   as   he   vanished   from   sight,   “What’re   you   doing   here,  Lilith?”  Serena  asked.  She  looked  like  something   right   out   of   one   of   Hollywood’s   movies.   She   had   now   gone   to   a   Monroe   blonde   and   cut   her   hair   short   in   a   Monroe   style.   I   couldn’t   help   but   stare   at   her,   sitting   there  in  that  strapless  dress.  It  glowed  like  a  platinum   beacon   under   the   club   lights   and   those   ocean   blue   eyes   of   her   were   beautiful   to   see   again,   much   more   beautiful  than  I  could  even  remember.
“Got  bored  of  New  York?”  She  asked.       “Yes,”  I  said  with  a  slight  laugh.  “You  know  me   well.”     “Well   enough   to   be   shocked   it   took   you   this   long.”
I   tilted   my   head   a   little;   the   confused   look   on   my  face  was  obvious  to  her  so  I  didn’t  even  have  to  ask   why.

“Lilith,  with  the  exception  of  London,  you  bore   quickly  of  cities  and  towns.  I  half  expected  to  see  you   out  here  years  ago.  What  took  you  so  long?”       I  wanted  to  tell  her  what  had  happened.  How  I   missed  her,  what  I  had  done  since  she  had  been  gone,   and   more   importantly   whom   I   had   done   them   with.   Instead  I  answered  in  one  word.
“Life.”
Serena  leaned  back  in  her  chair,  arms  folded  in   her  lap  and  a  softened  smile  gracing  her  face.  She  did   know   me   well.   She   knew   me   well   enough   to   know   there   was   much   more   I   wanted   to   say   and   in   time   I   would  tell  her,  but  not  that  night.  She  understood  and   only  nodded.
“Life,”   she   repeated   after   me.   She   then   placed   her  hand  on  the  table,  taking  mine  within  hers.  “I  have   missed  you,  Lilith.”
I   smiled   at   her   and   looked   her   in   the   eyes.   I   didn’t   say   anything,   but   I’m   sure   she   could   see   everything   I   felt   and   thought   at   the   moment   through   my  own  eyes.
“Did  you  get  the  money  I  sent  you?”  she  asked.       “Yes,   yes   I   did.   I   would’ve   written   you   back   to   thank  you,  but  you  didn’t  put  a  return  address.  Serena,   why  did  you-‐”
“I’m   back,”   her   suitor   announced   fresh   from   whatever   he   had   been   doing.   Serena   quickly   let   go   of   my  hand  and  placed  it  back  in  her  lap.
I  sat  back  in  my  chair  as  the  two  began  to  speak   to   each   other.   She   told   him   some   made   up   story   of   how   we   met,   who   we   were   to   one   another.   I   admit   it   sounded   good,   it   was   apparent   she   had   spent   some   time   working   on   it,   just   waiting   for   the   day   when   we   would   meet   again   amongst   people.   I   tuned   them   out   though,   looking   around   the   club,   listening   to   some   swinging   jazz   groove   that   blared   through   the   smoke   that   filled   the   place   and   laughing   and   talking.   It   was   the   kind   of   club   with   soft   lighting,   the   kind   of   place   where   one   goes   to   be   noticed   but   not   relatively   seen.   All  around  us  celebrities  sat  and  stood.  Walked  around   us,   some   of   them   even   taking   the   time   to   wave   and   some   even   stopping   by.   With   each   one   that   went   passed   or   came   to   us   Serena’s   face   would   glow   like   a   child  on  Christmas  day  eager  to  open  her  presents.  She   was  still  in  awe  of  it  all,  despite  the  fact  she  had  been   there  for  years.  Again  her  friend  excused  himself,  this   time  to  go  to  another  table  to  talk  to  some  friends  of   his.
“Who  is  he?”  I  asked  her.  “Your  friend  there.”       She   leans   in,   as   do   I,   so   we   can   be   heard   over   the  music.  “He’s  a  producer.”
“Aren’t  they  all?”
“Lilith,  stop.  I’m  serious.  He’s  actually  going  to   produce  the  next  film  with-‐”
“So  how’d  you  two  meet?”
Serena  can’t  help  but  laugh.  How  could  I  be  so   jaded   with   all   this   royalty   around   me?   It   was   beyond   her.
“Fine,   fine,”   she   started.   “We   met   through   a   mutual   friend.   He   actually   got   me   a   role   in   his   upcoming  movie.  We’ve  been  friends  for  years.  He  also   got  me  my  first  role  in  a  movie.  I  don’t  know  if  you  saw   it  or  not.”

I  nodded.  “I  saw  it.  I  loved  it.”

She   smiled   and   lowered   her   head   down   from   my   view.   If   she   could’ve   blushed   I’m   sure   she   would   have.
“How   have   you   done   it   this   long?”   I   asked.   “How   have   you   lived   out   here   without   anyone   knowing  what  you  are?”

She   raised   her   head   back   up,   the   smile   still   there  but  not  as  prominent.
“It’s  hard,”  she  says.  “But  it’s  something  that  I’ve   gotten  away  with  so  far.”
“And  what  do  you  do  about  your  thirst?”

She   leans   in   closer,   “You’ll   never   believe   it,   Lilith.  But  I  know  someone  who  knows  someone.  I  can   get  it  here  from  medical  centers.  Frozen  bags  of  it.”         You  had  to  have  been  kidding  me.  Not  her  too.   Regardless   of   that,   from   that   point   on   Serena   and   I   made   it   a   point   to   keep   in   contact   with   each   other.   Her   plan   to   get   a   role   in   her   producer   friend’s   movie   fell   through,   and   in   time   she   tired   of   the   movie   path   and  moved  on.  Eventually  dropping  out  of  sight  for  a   few   years   only   to   re-‐emerge   as   the   grand   daughter   of   her   actress   self.   Confusing   I’m   sure   but   those   are   the   things  you  must  do  if  you’re  going  to  be  in  the  public   eye  and  be  a  Vampire.
As  the  years  went  by  I  moved  up  and  down  the   California  coast,  finally  settling  in  Los  Angeles  again  in   the   mid-‐eighties.   I   even   ran   into   Mical   again   during   that  time.  But  the  memories  of  that  time  fade  away  as   I  quietly  slip  into  dreams.

Chapter 11

Sunday   arrived,   and   I   was   more   than   ready   for   my   reunion   with   Olivier.   I   had   often   wondered   what   had  become  of  him.  I  had  heard  he  had  moved  away  to   Europe,   somewhere   in   Spain   during   the   fifties.   After   that   no   one   had   heard   from   him   again.   He   then   showed  up  again  in  the  late  eighties.  Pretending  to  be   a   distant   relative   of   himself.   I’ll   have   to   get   the   story   from  him,  but  apparently  he  was  able  to  fool  his  family   into   believing   it.   So   why   shouldn’t   anyone   else   who   had  known  him?
“Are   you   ready?”   Serena’s   voice   called   from   somewhere  within  the  apartment.
I   gave   myself   the   once   over   in   the   bedroom   mirror,  brushing  two  black  bangs  from  my  eyes  over  to   the   side   of   my   face,   admiring   how   well   the   one   black   Gown   Serena   actually   had   fit   me.   It   was   a   gift   from   some   French   designer   whose   clothes   sold   for   more   than   some   luxury   cars.   A   v   shaped   neckline   with   a   form-‐fitting   waist   that   was   highlighted   with   a   thigh   high   slit   on   the   right   side   is   what   looked   at   me   back   from  that  reflection.
“Well?”  she  called  out  again.
“Yes.”  I  answered  back.
I   went   into   the   front   room   of   the   apartment   and   looked   out   into   the   night.   I   stood   looking   out   those  windows,  down  onto  the  street  below  where  the   November’s   rain   had   made   them   damp   and   cold.   I   couldn’t  help  but  think  of  that  first  night  I  met  Olivier.   How  funny  it  was  that  I  was  going  to  meet  him  again   with   the   weather   being   almost   exactly   as   it   was   that   first  time.  Serena  emerged  from  her  room  decked  out   in  a  pearl  white  designer  dress  that  I’m  sure  was  worth   more   than   mine.   Hers   was   more   modest   than   mine   though,   going   for   the   more   classic   strapless   look.   We   both   headed   out   the   doors   as   Serena   gathered   our   coats  before  she  did  a  double  take  after  seeing  what  I   had  on.
“I   thought   you   were   going   to   where   the   other   dress  I  gave  you?”  she  asked.
I   looked   back   out   the   window.   “Given   as   how   the   weather   is,   I   think   I’ll   play   it   safe   with   the   basic   black  ensemble.”
She  sighed  and  shook  her  head  before  letting  a   smile  come  through.  “Fine.  I  figured  you’d  picked  that   one   anyway   between   the   two   I   gave   you.   We’ll   look   like   Yin   and   Yang   I   guess.”   She   handed   me   my   coat   and  we  were  off.

Traffic  was  light  so  the  limo  ride  was  relatively   brief.   Once   we   arrived   to   our   destination,   my   eyes   widened  a  little  bit.  It  was  the  exact  same  building  that   I  had  met  him  all  those  years  ago.
“Lilith?”   Serena   saw   the   expression   on   my   face   as  the  limo  pulled  up  to  the  building.
“I’m  fine,”  I  assured  her.
With  that  we  stepped  out  of  the  limo  and  made   our   way   up   the   stairs   and   into   the   ballroom.   We   entered  and  it  was  as  if  time  hadn’t  touched  the  inside   of  the  place.  The  look,  the  feel  of  the  floors  and  steps,   all   of   it   was   seemingly   the   same.   The   only   exception   was   the   smell.   Pretty   much   gone   was   the   stench   of   smoke  since  we  live  in  an  age  of  more  health  conscious   people  who  wouldn’t  dare  have  smoke  around  them  it   seems.  But  even  after  all  of  that  it  would  be  something   else   that   would   take   me   aback.   What   I   saw   when   we   entered   even   shocked   me.   I   had   heard   stories.   Tales.   But   I   never   actually   believed   that   such   a   thing   was   true.   All   around   us   was   a   mixture   of   Vampires   and   mortals   together.   Some   were   actually   arm   and   arm.   Some   hand   in   hand.   They   were   couples.   Couples   mixed  together.  I  was  in  awe  at  such  a  spectacle.  The   crowd  was  like  that  of  any  other.
All   around   us   conversations   were   being   held.   Everyday  conversations  about  everyday  things.  Mortals   drank   wine   from   fine   crystal   glasses   while   the   Vampires   drank   blood   from   crystal   glasses   of   their   own.   Around   us   was   laughter,   chatter.   But   soon   I   noticed   that   it   started   to   fade   amongst   some   of   them   and  whispering  took  its  place.
“Is  that  her?”
“It  can’t  be?”
“Is  it?”  were  the  most  prominent.
I   soon   felt   the   eyes   of   the   people,   mostly   Vampires,  on  me.  The  ones  with  the  mortals  on  their   arms   soon   took   notice   of   me   also.   I   felt   a   smile   grace   my   face,   relishing   the   feeling,   the   moment.   I   let   my   coat  fall  off  of  me  and  folded  it  over  my  right  arm  as  I   made   my   way   through   the   crowd   with   Serena   following  right  behind  me.  The  whispers  persisted  as  I   cut   my   way   through   the   crowd   of   people   slowly,   making  sure  everyone  had  a  long  look.
“How   do   you   think   he’ll   react   when   he   sees   you?”  Serena  asked.
“That’s  what  we’ll  find  out  soon  enough.”       I  made  my  way  to  the  staircase.  By  now  almost   the   entire   place   had   fallen   silent   accept   for   the   whispers  that  seemed  to  course  throughout  the  crowd.
When   I   got   to   the   top   of   the   staircase   with   Serena   right   behind   me,   I   turned   to   my   left,   walking   passed  the  pillar  that  led  to  the  tables  that  over  looked   the   floor   below.   And   there   he   was.   Sitting   in   the   middle  table,  adorned  in  an  ivory  white  tux,  complete   with  a  black  tie  to  finish  the  look.  Brushing  his  fingers   through  that  salt  and  pepper  hair  of  his,  less  slick  than   the  first  time  we  met,  before  they  moved  down  to  that   mustache  of  his,  finally  coming  to  rest  on  the  table.  He   folded   them   together   and   as   he   did   that   smile   of   his   returned.   That   arrogant,   know-‐it-‐all,   handsome   smile   of   his   that   I   didn’t   think   I’d   see   again.   I   could   hear   Serena   whisper   something   to   herself   about   his   looks.   She  was  taken  with  him;  as  I  had  been  the  first  time  I   saw  him.  I  turned  and  looked  at  her  and  she  at  me  and   we   both   smiled,   sharing   the   same   thought   knowing   the   same   thing   and   both   understanding   what   it   was   about   him.   He   stood   up   brushing   down   his   black   slacks  and  in  a  calm  and  reserved  voice  spoke.

“It’s  been  a  long  time,  Lilith.”
All  around  me  I  heard  gasps,  exclamations  of  “I   knew   it   was   her!”   and   the   like.   He   looked   down   at   a   woman  who  I  hadn’t  even  noticed  until  then.  She  had   short  gray  hair  and  light  brown  eyes.  She  was  old  but   had  aged  gracefully.  A  beautiful  old  you  could  say.  She   looked  up  at  him  then  turned  to  me,  greeting  me  with   a  smile  as  wide  and  nice  as  it  could  be.
“This  is  my  wife,”  Olivier  said.
I  could  feel  Serena’s  shock  reverberate  through   me   while   I,   on   the   other   hand,   caught   mine   and   pushed   it   back   down,   not   letting   it   come   close   to   surfacing.   My   eyes   fell   on   her,   taking   in   the   sight   she   was,   and   I   could   see   the   woman   she   had   been   in   her   youth.  More  like  the  woman  she  was  when  Olivier  met   and  fell  in  love  with  her.

“It’s   nice   to   meet   you,”   I   said   in   an   equally   reserved  voice.
She   nodded   to   me   while   one   arm   clutched   the   other   that   it   rested   upon   with   a   slight   tremble   from   age.   Olivier   looked   around,   the   smile   of   his   getting   bigger  as  he  did.
“What’s  everyone  so  quiet  for?  Come  on!  Come   on!”

He   leaned   over   the   railing   and   called   down   to   the   band   that   had   apparently   been   on   break   when   Serena  and  I  came  in.

“You  had  your  rest,  get  back  to  the  music.  Who   here  wants  to  hear  a  classic,  eh?”
The   crowd   seemed   to   calm   a   bit   and   a   few   nervous  laughs  seemed  to  rise  from  the  floor  below.
“Band,  how  about  ‘S’wonderful’?  You  know  that   one?”
The   bandleader   nodded   yes   and   almost   instantly  the  rest  of  the  band  followed  suit.  The  music   started   up   and   filled   the   ballroom.   Soon   the   whispers   grew   back   into   the   laughter   and   chatter   that   it   was   earlier.   Olivier   stood   back   up   straight   and   motioned   for  Serena  and  I  to  join  him.  We  made  our  way  to  his   table,  Serena  placing  her  coat  on  the  back  of  her  chair,   I   following   her   lead   then   we   both   sat   down.   Olivier   stared  at  Serena  for  a  few  seconds  before  finally  saying   something.
“You   must   be   Serena.   I’ve   heard   a   lot   about   you.”
Serena   looked   over   at   me   with   a   smile   before   turning  back  to  him.
“And  I’ve  heard  a  lot  about  you  also,”  she
said  in  return.
With  a  chuckle  he  nodded,  “Have  you  now?”       “She   is   so   beautiful,”   his   wife   said,   looking   at   me  while  she  spoke.
“Yes,”  Olivier  said,  “she  certainly  is.”  He  turned   to   her,   placing   his   hand   on   hers   that   she   still   had   folded  in  her  lap.
“It’s   okay,”   she   said.   “I   understand.   I’ll   be   fine.   Her  friend  can  keep  me  company.”
Serena’s   look   of   confusion   matched   mine   as   Olivier   stood   up   and   walked   over   to   me,   taking   my   hand  and  lifting  me  from  my  seat.
He  leaned  over  in  my  ear  and  quietly  said,  “It’s   alright.”   He   looked   back   at   Serena,   “We’ll   be   back   shortly,  don’t  worry.”

We   rounded   the   corner   but   instead   of   going   down  the  staircase  we  made  our  way  back  from  it  to  a   door   that   Olivier   opened.   I   didn’t   say   anything   I   figured   whatever   he   had   planned   would   reveal   itself   soon  enough.  The  door  led  to  another  set  of  stairs  that   led   upward   which   led   to   another   door.   Once   there,   Olivier   opened   the   door   to   what   was   the   roof   of   the   building.   We   both   made   our   way   outside   onto   the   roof,  the  door  shutting  behind  us  and  there  the  two  of   us  were.  The  breeze  that  had  been  circling  throughout   the   city   had   finally   died   down.   The   full   moon   had   peeked  from  out  of  the  clouds  that  had  dominated  the   night   and   its   light   shone   down   reflecting   off   of   the   puddles   of   water   that   had   formed   from   the   light   rain   earlier   in   the   night,   creating   an   almost   ghostly,   but   beautiful   glow   all   around   us   while   the   air   was   mixed   with   that   of   wet   pavement   and   new   rain   that   had   settled  in.
The  music  that  blared  from  the  ballroom  crept   through  the  door  and  managed  its  way  outside  where   we  were.  It  came  out  as  a  soft  muffled  tempo,  but  clear   enough.
“You   remember   how   we   used   to   do   this?”   Olivier   said   in   a   soft   voice   as   he   took   my   other   hand   into  his  and  brought  me  closer  before  placing  it  on  his   shoulder  while  his  hand  fell  to  my  side  and  cupped  it   gently.
I   closed   my   eyes,   and   nodded   as   those   memories   from   long   ago,   memories   of   dancing   on   his   terrace,   memories   of   dancing   on   the   roof   of   my   building   on   those  cool  summer  and  fall  nights  came  back  to  me  in   a  rush.
“I  never  thought  I’d  ever  find  anyone  to  do  that   with   again,”   he   said   as   his   eyes   looked   upward   to   the   moon  that  looked  down  on  us.
“But  you  did,”  I  said  assuredly.
He   laughed,   but   it   was   tempered,   a   kind   of   grateful   laugh   more   than   anything.   “Yes,   yes   I   did.   What   you   saw   in   there   tonight,   Lilith.   Was   that   your   worst   nightmare   come   true?   Mortals   and   Vampires   together?”
I   stopped   for   a   second   and   looked   up   at   him   only   to   find   that   smile   of   his   looking   right   back.   I   couldn’t  help  but  laugh.
“You   see,   given   the   time,   the   circumstances,   anything  can  be  achieved,  Lilith.  If  you  just  open  your   mind  up  to  it.”
I   began   to   move   in   step   with   him   again   before   speaking.
“And  that’s  what  your  wife  has  done  with  you?   She   doesn’t   see   you   as   a   monster?   Doesn’t   see   you   as   some  horror  movie  come  to  life?”
He  laughed  again,  this  time  it  was  loud  almost   infectious.   “No,   no   no   no.   She   definitely   doesn’t   see   me   like   that.   You   haven’t   changed   a   bit,   you   know   that,  Lilith?”
Our   barbs   weren’t   insults,   just   playful   ribbing   mixed  with  a  bit  of  seriousness.  We  both  knew  it,  and   we  both  knew  it  was  nothing  more  that  that.  After  he   had  calmed  from  his  laughter  I  could  feel  his  eyes  on   me  as  I  had  placed  my  head  on  his  chest.
“After  you  had  left  I  decided  I  had  had  my  fill  of   this   place   myself.   So   I   left.   Took   a   tour   of   the   world.   Finally   settled   down   in   Spain   after   some   time.   I   had   been   living   there   for   a   year   when   I   met   her.   This   beautiful   young   thing   she   was.   Flowing   dark   hair,   beautiful  brown  eyes  you  could  get  lost  in  and  golden   dark   skin.   She   had   to   have   been   the   second   most   beautiful  woman  I  had  ever  laid  eyes  on.  One  look  of   her  almost  made  me  forget  about  you.”
“Did  you  pursue  her  the  same  way  you  did  me?”       “More.  If  you  can  believe  that.  Spanish  women,   Lilith,   there’s   nothing   like   them.   After   awhile   we   became  pretty  much  inseparable.”
“And   how   did   you   break   it   to   her   that   you   weren’t  what  she  thought?”
He   became   silent   for   a   few   seconds.   Finally,   “Obviously   it   was   a   shock   to   her.   It   would   be   to   anyone   I   would   think.   But   I   showed   her   that   I   wasn’t   what  books  and  TV  shows  and  movies  made  me  out  to   be.   I   wasn’t   a   monster.   Far   from   it.   It   wasn’t   enough   though.   She   left   and   I   didn’t   see   her   again   for   about   four   years.   Then   I   ran   into   her   again.   She   had   grown   even  more  and  come  to  understand  what  I  had  tried  to   show   her.   She   wanted   to   learn   more.   If   anything   she   treated   me   as   if   what   I   had   was   some   sort   of   disease.   She   came   to   accept   what   I   was   as   long   as   I   didn’t   become  what  she  had  always  believed  us  to  be.”       I   chuckled   and   looked   up   at   him.   “You   mean   like  me?”
“Lili-‐”
“It’s  alright,  I  understand.  And  the  others?  The   other   couples   in   there?   Are   they   as   open   minded   as   her?”
“Everyone  you’ve  seen  here  tonight  is,  yes.  You   see,  Lilith,  it  is  possible  for  us  to  coexist.  If  you  want  to   that  is.”
I  looked  down  at  the  ground,  at  the  puddles  of   water   that   reflected   the   moon   around   us,   thinking   of   what  he  said.  Then  I  looked  back  up  at  him.       “Maybe  a  select  few,  Olivier.  Mortals  as  a  whole   will  never  accept  us.  They  can’t.  They  can’t  because  it’s   beyond  their  reasoning  that  we  even  actually  exist.”       Olivier   seemed   undaunted   by   what   I   said.   His   smile   beamed   down   on   me   almost   as   strongly   as   the   moonlight  did.
“Then,  my  dear,”  he  said.  “we’ll  have  to  agree  to   disagree.”
“Olivier,”  I  started  then  hesitated.
“What  is  it?”  he  asked.
“Did   you   offer   to   make   her   like   you?   Did   you   offer  to  make  her  a  Vampire?”
His   smile   faded   a   bit;   it   was   there   but   more   subdued.   His   eyes   fell   to   our   feet   and   I   could   already   tell  the  answer  before  he  said  it.
“No,”   he   finally   said,   still   looking   down   before   his  eyes  lifted  back  up  and  locked  on  mine.  “No.  And  I   think  if  I  did  she  would  never  accept  it.  And  I  wouldn’t   want  her  to.  Because  then  she’d  cease  to  be  the  woman   I   fell   in   love   with.   She   wouldn’t   be   different   in   trying   to  understand  me...she’d  be  just  like  me.”

We   both   stopped   and   stared   at   each   other.   In   his  eyes  I  could  see  all  the  love  and  compassion  he  had   for   her,   and   I   could   also   see   all   the   love   she   had   for   him.  And  it  was  then  I  understood.  She  was  the  thing   that   reminded   him   of   what   it   used   to   be   like   for   him   when  he  was  a  mortal.  He  saw  in  her  the  last  vestige  of   his  mortal  self,  something  he  never  saw  in  me.  Which   is   why   I   knew   he   would   always   love   her   more   than   anything  and  cherish  her  more  than  anything.     I   leaned   back   in   to   his   chest   and   asked   softly,   carefully,   “What   will   you   do   when   she   passes?   What   will  you  do  when  she’s  gone?”
Without   hesitation   he   answered,   “I   will   go   on.   Alone.”
Neither   of   us   said   anything   after   that.   He   had   found   his   happiness.   That   was   all   that   mattered.   The   both  of  us  danced  slowly  in  the  cold  November  night.

Chapter 12

I  sat  in  silence  during  the  ride  back  to  Serena’s   apartment.   I   sat   looking   out   onto   the   passing   dark   streets   that   were   quiet,   empty,   and   still.   I   Sat   and   watched   as   the   images   of   the   outside   passed   by   in   a   multicolored   blur   of   red,   green,   and   yellow   traffic   lights.  Stop  signs,  neon  lights  of  business  and  billboard   signs.   I   leaned   against   the   window   of   the   limousine,   ever   so   slightly   catching   my   own   reflection   staring   back   at   me   from   time   to   time.   As   I   did,   thoughts   ran   through   my   head.   Everything   that   Olivier   said,   the   events   that   had   led   up   to   it.   The   whispering   from   everyone   who   had   saw   me.   The   mixed   couples   of   Vampires   and   mortals.   It   all   ran   like   some   scattered   and   mixed   up   collage   in   my   head.   I   had   based   my   entire   immortal   life   on   the   belief   that   Vampires   and   mortals   were   vastly   different.   I   still   do   believe   it,   despite  what  I  had  seen  this  night.
But   I   couldn’t   help   but   think   of   what   Olivier   had   said.   His   words   running   through   my   head   over   and   over   again,   stuck   on   some   kind   of   loop.   You   see   Lilith  it  is  possible  for  us  to  coexist.

Could   it   be   true?   I   had   never   considered   a   mortal   anything   more   then   what   they   provided   me.   Meanwhile,   Olivier,   and   even   Serena   for   that   matter,   always  seemed  to  find  more  to  them.  More  there  than   what  I  was  willing  to  see  or  look  for.  For  the  first  time   in   memory,   I’m   questioning   the   very   thing   I   am.   The   very  things  I  believe  in.  Perhaps  I  was  wrong.  Perhaps   Olivier   was   right.   Perhaps   even   Mical   was   right   to   a   point.
“Lilith?”   Serena’s   voice   stirred   me   from   my   thoughts.   “Are   you   okay?”   she   asks,   putting   her   hand   gently  on  my  arm,  leaning  over  to  me,  placing  her  chin   on  my  shoulder.
I   could   feel   the   coolness   of   her   breath   on   my   neck  while  her  hand  stroked  my  arm.
“I’m   fine,”   I   said   in   a   faint   whisper.   “Just   thinking.”
Serena   scooted   over   to   where   I   was   and   wrapped   her  arms  around  my  waist  and  pulled  me  to  her.       “What  did  he  say  to  you,  Lilith?”  Her  voice  was   just  as  much  a  whisper  as  mine  was.
My   eyes   stayed   on   the   passing   streets,   not   turning  away  from  them  for  I  was  afraid  Serena  would   see   the   conflict   I   had   in   them.   I   had   always   been   the   one   who   was   so   sure.   Always   the   one   who   knew   everything  and  was  unwavering  in  what  I  knew.  What   I  thought  I  knew.  I  wouldn’t...couldn’t  let  her  see  how   that   had   changed.   In   one   night,   centuries   of   beliefs,   thoughts,   feelings,   and   everything   I   had   perceived   myself  to  be  had  now  been  questioned.  And  I  couldn’t   ignore  it.
“Do  you  think  me  a  monster,  Serena?”  I  finally   asked,  moving  my  hands  to  take  hers  in  mine.       “What?”  she  said  half  shocked.
“Serena,   I   kill.   I   kill   not   because   I   have   to,   but   because  I  want  to.  Because  I  like  to.  To  me  the  kill  is   just   as   much   the   satisfying   part   as   the   quenching   of   my  thirst.  Does  that  make  me  a  monster?”
Serena  said  nothing,  even  then  I  knew  she  was   trying   to   get   her   words   right,   I   could   feel   her   struggling  trying  to  say  what  she  wanted  to  say.  In  the   past   Serena   would’ve   been   easy   to   read,   although   I   never  did,  it  was  the  one  thing  I  granted  her  while  we   were  together.  Now  I  couldn’t  if  I  wanted  to.  She  had   learned  to  build  her  defenses  against  such  things.       “Lilith  you  are  who  you  are,”  she  finally  said.       “Does  that  make  me  a  monster?”
She   drew   in   a   deep   breath   then   sighed.   She   clutched   me   tighter,   and   I   tightened   her   grip   on   my   hands,   closing   my   eyes   and   turning   away   from   the   window   and   outside,   leaning   my   head   against   hers   as   she   leaned   hers   forward,   her   auburn   strings   of   hair   tickling  the  top  of  my  forehead  as  she  did.

“Tell  me  the  truth,  Serena.”
“For  a  long  time...for  a  long  time  I  thought  you   were.  For  a  long  time  I  blamed  you  for  my  misery.  For   a   long   time   I   thought   you   were   an   unfeeling   monster   that  cared  about  nothing  but  her  own  needs.  Your  own   wants.   I   was   just   along   to   keep   you   company   in   the   process.   I   realize   now,   despite   all   the   bad   things   you   do,  there  is  still  good  in  you.  There  had  to  have  been   for   you   to   take   pity   on   me.   For   you   to   take   me   away   from  the  life  I  knew  when  you  met  me.

The   Lilith   that   did   that,   that’s   the   part   of   you   that’s   still   holding   onto   your   humanity.   The   part   of   you,   as   much   as   you   want   to   deny   it,   that   still   cares   about  something.  It  took  me  centuries  to  realize  that.   It   took   me   leaving   you   to   realize   that.   The   money   I   sent   you   after   I   left   all   those   years   ago?   That   was   my   way   of   saying   I   understood.   Lilith,   you   hold   yourself   up  to  be  this  thing  of  perfection,  this  ultimate  Vampire   who   encompasses   everything.   But   Vampire   or   not,   powers  or  not,  immortal  or  not,  you’re  still  a  woman.   You’re  still  human  to  a  point.  If  you  weren’t  you  never   would’ve   saved   me   from   Andalas.   You   never   would   have  been  with  Olivier.

I   believe   you’re   a   killer   because   you   choose   to   be,  but  I  believe  something  happened  to  you  to  make   you  that  way  and  you  can’t  break  from  it.  As  much  as  I   wish  you  could,  you  can’t.  But  I  don’t  love  you  any  less   for  it,  Lilith.”

Her  words  poured  over  me  with  a  warm  fluidity   that  struck  me  to  the  core,  and  before  I  even  knew  it,  I   felt   a   lone   tear   streak   down   my   face.   I   had   indeed   chosen  the  life  I  now  lead.  Perhaps  if  things  would’ve   went   differently,   if   my   first   time   tasting   blood   wasn’t   from  someone  who  had  tried  to  hurt  me,  if  I  hadn’t  of   killed   him   in   the   process,   if   that   rush   I   felt   at   that   moment   hadn’t   filled   me   with   the   taste   of   life,   of   wonderment   and   the   feeling   of   power,   pure   unimaginable   power,   maybe   I   would’ve   turned   out   more  like  Serena.  More  like  Olivier.  More  like...Mical.   Serena   tilted   my   head   back   to   her   and   placed   a   soft   kiss   upon   my   forehead   and   placed   her   hand   on   my   face.  The  perfume  from  her  wrist  drifted  to  me  and  the   smell  was  sweet,  a  mixture  of  lavender  and  vanilla,  so   sweet  that  I  could  taste  it  on  my  tongue  as  her  silken   hands  played  gently  across  my  eyes.
“We’re  here,”  she  says.
I   hadn’t   noticed   that   the   limousine   had   even   stopped,   but   it   had.   We   were   home   now.   Morning   would   soon   be   here   and   Serena   actually   had   a   modeling   job   to   be   at   in   a   few   hours.   Once   we   were   settled   in   from   our   night   out,   I   took   up   residence   on   the  couch  of  the  front  room,  staring  out  of  that  wall  of   windows   to   the   outside   and   the   coming   dawn,   while   Serena’s  head  lay  in  my  lap,  my  fingers  running  softly   through  her  hair  as  she  was  off  in  the  lands  of  dreams.       I   sat   and   looked   outside   replaying   my   entire   life,   both   mortal   and   immortal   in   my   head.   Looking   out   into   the   world,   seeing   the   quickly   vanishing   dark   skies   give   way   to   an   orange   red   and   pink   of   the   approaching   morning.   Looking   out   there,   looking   out   to   the   future   that   awaited   me.   Wondering   if   I   was   fated  to  be  something  different  in  the  coming  years.  As   the  minutes  passed  and  the  morning  drew  nearer,  the   first  rays  of  sunlight  started  to  come  out.  I  withdrew  to   the  guest  bedroom  and  buried  myself  under  the  covers   of   the   bed,   my   thoughts   running   ramped,   my   emotions   more   mixed   and   alive   than   I   could   remember.

I   awoke   at   the   very   beginning   of   Dusk.   I   came   out  of  the  room  in  time  to  see  the  very  last  rays  of  the   day   melt   away   into   the   night,   and   standing   there   in   front   of   those   windows   I   watched   the   last   colors   of   that  day’s  sunset  disappear  into  the  dark  blue-‐black  of   the  night.  I  had  just  gotten  out  of  bed,  but  I  had  been   up   for   sometime.   Still   trying   to   come   to   grips   with   everything   that   had   happened,   still   wondering   where   the   coming   nights   would   take   me.   Serena   was   still   away  on  her  business.  She  said  she  probably  wouldn’t   be   back   until   later   on   that   evening.   I   decided   to   entertain  myself.  In  all  the  time  I’ve  been  here  I  really   haven’t   been   anywhere   in   the   city.   So   after   a   quick   shower  I  made  my  way  out  into  it.
I   took   to   the   streets,   wrapping   Serena’s   black   leather   coat   around   me,   despite   the   fact   I   had   also   borrowed   her   white   sweater   and   my   own   jeans   that   should’ve   been   enough   to   keep   me   warm.   I   walked   around   the   city,   fighting   back   the   frigid   and   biting   cold  that  had  crept  into  the  city  since  the  night  before.   I  walked  around,  not  really  going  anywhere,  just  going   from  place  to  place,  doing  what  I  had  done  so  much  in   the  past.  Melding  in  the  pool  of  mortals  that  were  all   around,   studying,   watching,   and   listening   to   them.   Hearing  their  thoughts,  searching  their  feelings,  seeing   how   they   acted.   As   I   looked   at   them,   walked   passed   them,  reading  their  thoughts,  feeling  what  they  felt  at   that  particular  time,  taking  them  in  as  one  would  take   in   a   book   and   tries   to   understands   what   it   means,   that’s   when   I   realized   it.   That’s   when   I   understood   it   all.  It  was  as  clear  to  me  as  it  had  ever  been.  As  I  had   ever  wanted  to  be.

When   Serena   returned   home   that   night   she   found   me   waiting   for   her,   a   glass   of   red   wine   in   my   hand,   sitting   at   the   table,   watching   one   of   her   classic   movies  playing  on  her  TV
“Lilith,   what’re   you   doing?”   she   asked   laughingly   at  the  sight.
“Serena,   sit   down,”   I   said   to   her,   motioning   to   come  over  with  glass  in  hand.
Serena  hung  up  her  coat  and  made  her  way  to   me  and  sat  down.
“What’s  going  on?”  she  asked.
I  muted  the  TV  and  looked  at  her,  a  small  smile   on   my   face   slightly   formed   on   me   before   I   finally   spoke.
“I  decided  it’s  time  I  went  home.”
Serena  cocked  her  head  and  her  eyes  narrowed   a  bit.  “Back  to  L.A.?”
I   slowly   shook   my   head   no.   “Back   home.   To   England.”

Serena   sat   back   in   her   chair,   her   mouth   was   slightly  gaped  open.  It  was  shock,  more  like  confusion,   but  at  the  same  time  understanding.
“Why?”   she   asked   gently,   as   if   she   were   afraid   I’d  be  offended  by  the  question.
“It’s  time  I  went  back.  I  haven’t  stepped  foot  in   Europe  in  so  long.  I  miss  it.  I  miss  the  gray  days.  The   mist  and  fog  of  the  nights  there.  The  smell,  sights  and   the  sounds.  I  need  to  return  to  where  I  began.  I  need   to  go  back  to  who  I  am.  To  what  I  am.”
Serena  began  to  open  her  mouth  as  if  to  speak.   Then  slowly  the  realization  came  on  her  face  and  you   could   see   everything   I   had   wanted   to   tell   her   take   shape  in  her  eyes,  and  in  the  end  I  didn’t  have  to  say  a   thing.  She  understood  completely.  She  understood  like   I  knew  she  would.
“When  will  you  be  leaving?”
“Tomorrow   night.   I   should   arrive   in   England   right   before   dawn.   Not   that   it   matters.   If   my   timing   should  be  off  I  know  enough  tricks  to  get  by  if  I  need   to.”
Serena  nodded,  forcing  a  smile  beneath  her  sad   eyes.   “Of   course   you   do,”   she   says.   “Are   you   sure,   Lilith?”
“Yes,  this  is  what  I  want.  What  I  need.”       Serena   reached   her   hand   to   my   free   one   that   rested   on   the   table.   Those   ocean   blue   eyes   of   hers   found   mine   and   there   they   stayed   for   some   time.   Neither  of  us  said  anything.  We  didn’t  have  to.

The  following  evening  I  was  on  a  plane  back  to   England,   and   thankfully   everything   worked   out   as   I   had   hoped.   I   made   it   to   London   around   six   that   morning,  right  before  the  sun  had  started  to  peek  over   the   horizon.   I   managed   to   find   a   hotel   before   sunrise   and   by   the   next   sunset   I   had   made   it   a   point   to   find   the  old  apartment  where  Serena  and  I  had  lived  those   many  years  ago.  Luckily  enough  it  was  still  around  and   even   renovated   and   empty.   Turns   out   the   owner   of   it   had  decided  to  move  to  America  to  pursue  a  career  in   acting.   Funny   how   some   things   work.   I   spent   the   following   few   nights   getting   used   to   the   world   that   was   England.   To   the   city   that   was   London.   London   had   been   my   second   home,   while   Manchester   was   nothing  more  to  me  than  the  memories  I  had  of  it.  It   would  be  here  where  I  would  call  home  once  again.       The  realization  I  had  in  New  York,  amongst  the   mortals   I   had   been   around,   was   that   perhaps   my   thinking   of   mortals   and   Vampires   may   have   been   flawed,   but   at   the   same   time   my   thinking   wasn’t   without   its   points.   What   I   felt,   what   I   read,   what   I   experienced   from   them   while   I   waded   through   them   on  those  city  streets  showed  me  that  mortals  may  have   more   to   offer   than   what   it   appears,   but   they’re   still   flawed.   Still   fearful   of   things   they   don’t   understand.   Still  ignorant  of  the  things  they  can’t  possibly  conceive   of.   And   most   of   these   mortals   will   never   open   their   minds  to  the  possibility  that  we  exist.  That  they’re  no   longer  the  superior  ones  of  all  species.  Indeed  most  of   them  are  too  wrapped  up  in  their  own  lives  to  care  of   such  things  and  even  if  they  should  come  face  to  face   with  it,  it  would  be  more  than  most  could  deal  with.

Olivier  may  be  right,  but  so  am  I.  For  centuries   I  have  walked  in  the  night.  For  a  time  I  crawled  in  the   shadows   of   the   darkness.   In   time   I   would   walk   the   darkness  of  night  and  control  it.  It  was  always  my  fate   to   do   such   things.   It   was   always   meant   for   me   to   be   the  way  I  am.  I  understand  that  now.  I  understand  and   accept  it.  Most  mortals  cower  in  fear  of  what  might  be   waiting   for   them   in   the   darkness   while   I   revel   in   it,   because   of   this   they’ll   never   be   what   I   am.   What   the   others  like  me  are.  I  am  a  Vampire.  I  have  a  thirst  for   mortal   blood.   Human   blood.   And   in   the   process   of   quenching   this   thirst   I   kill   more   times   than   not.   This   will   never   change   for   it   is   who   and   what   I   am.   It   is   what   I   became   all   those   centuries   ago   on   the   floor   of   that   home,   against   the   wall   of   that   home   as   the   old   woman   looked   at   me   in   fear   and   at   horror   at   what   I   had  done  to  her  son.

I  stand  in  front  of  my  window  with  it  wide  open   to   the   cool   English   night.   A   light   haze   has   drifted   down   to   the   streets   adding   a   bit   of   atmosphere   to   it.   It’s  something  I  didn’t  know  I  had  missed  until  I  see  it.   A   lot   of   additions   have   been   made   to   this   part   of   the   city   since   last   I   was   here.   Blocks   away   I   can   hear   the   faint  beat  of  a  nearby  club.  From  here  I  can  smell  the   mixture  of  perfume  and  cologne.  I  can  even  catch  the   hint   of   cigarette   smoke   drifting   on   the   night’s   wind.   Despite  the  slight  mist  on  the  street  below,  the  moon   shines   for   all   to   see   as   its   light   bathes   me   in   its   glow   and   the   cool   fall   air   caresses   me   like   that   of   a   lover.   Yes,  a  lover.  I  think  that  is  what  I  shall  have  tonight,  a   lover  and  a  kill.  Tonight  is,  indeed,  a  good  night  for  a   kill.