You know, just when I thought "Hey, I'm done! I finished my Noir three-part story!". Just when I thought now it's over, my Noir obsession had had its final toll, and that I could actually sit down and write my homework assignments instead of fanfiction. God almighty just had to plop out from the blue, planting a new story seed through my ears, into my brain and down my spine. So here I am, some months after finishing Sing for Me, I've found myself sitting down in front of my computer again, leisurely typing away all my troubles and not to mention my poor, neglected credits. Final exams are going to be a dark, dark period this summer. ^_^

For you Noir starved people, I have this multipart AU story to give. This time, I've chosen to feature the forming of the Noir relationship between Mireille and Kirika, but with our cute, cat-loving and cuddly genius as a vampire. I was always fascinated by how the relationship of those two developed all through the show and how it concluded, so I thought, "hey, let's give it a try on my own!" But re-writing the whole show would certainly be boring eh? So I decided to re-do it, and make it a vampire story instead, for reasons I have forgotten -_-;.

As usual, I have words of warnings.

This is AU, as in Alternative Universe, as in not in the anime world, as in that things will be a lot different. Take OOC into account but in final, I'm intending to stand true to the characters.

Those of you who are very *very* picky with your vampires, I am not, and do not intend to follow either Stoker's or Rice's vampire models. I run my own race in this story, please don't go "HEY, vampires CAN'T do that!!!". Vampires are fictional creatures, like ghosts, like poltergeists, and like Harry Potter. It's not like there is a standard and even if there were, I don't intend to follow them.

There will be no rainbows, flowers or pink bunnies here. This is Noir, the eternal darkness of human nature, vampire-styled.

With all that vented out, I hope you enjoy the show, wherever this is going.

Let the bleeding begin.

-Shigan Lee

***************

Noir.

A name bestowed by ancient fate,

Sacrifice given in death by wish,

The blood of lambs forever protected,

By tears staining the blackened path.

Prologue - Nightwalker

Another Parisian night.

A few cars passed in the almost empty street before once again disappearing into the dark, their spotlight beams temporarily revealing a lone figure beside the road. The figure, appearing female and in her mid teens, seemed to pay her surroundings no notice as she trampled on down the old, cracked pavement. She passed a few couples and drunks that were still out, trying to find their way home in the light fog that rested over the city of Paris. A dog wailed up some side alley, followed by the shouts of an arguing couple. The sound of shattering glass could be heard from behind a rusted steel door, but the dark-haired girl passing their window paid it no heed. She walked on, one second illuminated by the weak light given by a nearly broken streetlamp, swallowed by the night like a shadow that never existed.

She appeared to be in no hurry despite that this particular part of the city was certainly no place for a lady her age, especially at an ungodly hour like this one. Neither did she seem to be afraid or even slightly affected by the ruggedness of her surroundings; she merely walked on, appearing to ignore the jibes and whistles from a group of rowdy youngsters hanging at the entrance of a seedy pub. Truly, you could easily see that she was not from this part of the town. Her clothes were tidy, clean and looked expensive, not extravagantly so but spoke of far better wealth than those you would usually find here. A dark coloured parka covered her thin, almost petite frame, matched to a pair of black pants together with sturdy, yet graceful low-heeled boots; the whole attire serving her well in the means of camouflage along her journey through the night.

Her stride was steady, not stuck up but showed clear and inborn confidence. She kept her eyes projected downwards at the uneven road before but her shoulders were straight, stretched to their full width while carrying her indeed small, but still imposing figure to her body's fully erected length. She passed a young hooker dressed in barely anything; while fumbling with her makeup, the woman eyed the girl who was clearly out of this street's usual pack distastefully like a villager would an outcast. Nothing was said as both women crossed, each continuing down their own paths in life, fate bringing them together for one fleeting moment on this chilly night. The hooker, who called herself Katie tonight, suddenly shuddered, an unpleasant tingle running down her spine. She turned after the outsider, more by a hunch than really expecting something. To her surprise, the darkened street was already empty, even the clattering sound of fast paced steps already fading into the dark.

Katie shook her head in amusement. She must be going crazy to whip after some classy stash like that one. Even if she had to admit that the kid looked cute, she had caught a glimpse of fine Asian features, crowned by a mop of unruly, yet well groomed dark hair. Too bad the girl had kept her eyes down, hindering her from seeing the whole face. Innocence in any form came rare in these parts of town, rare enough for it to be an attraction anyway. Just too bad that she hadn't been here for business, the night was coming short and business hadn't been too good. Hell, she was tempted to drag someone for free just to get some warmth. Damn that Roberto and his fucked up business schemes, no bad about flashy vinyl but at three a.m.? She really needed a hook and fast, just some cash and a warm body.

She laughed. Yeah, sure thing, the kid had probably been some precious little princess from a sheltered family who fought with daddy and ran away from home. Aw yes, those cute little angry steps of hers, pat, pat, pat against the stone. Now that had been a good merit, banging papa's little lady could indeed add some interesting refreshment in this job. Sure, drunks, slobs and overhormonal teens paid fresh bills but five years in the business and you get tired of them. No steam at all.

"Oi lady, you free?"

Did she look occupied? Stupid kid, it was the same shit every night. Well, she wasn't really in a position to complain. She had clothes, she was fed and she even still looked pretty. That's hooker life for you; in all aspects she should really be happy. Turning around to face the leering, drunk looking boy behind her, she sighed. He couldn't be more than fifteen years old, the perverted little bastard. Putting up a bored smile was easy enough and this one didn't look all too poor.

Maybe this night wasn't all wasted.

A few blocks down the street from the back-alley where Katie usually took her customers, things were getting a little out of hand between two groups of streeters. Two young men, looking to be in their midtwenties, were going at each order in the middle of the street, hard. Both had knives in hand, glaring at each other to tease their deaths while throwing a few well chosen insults. Their respective mobs, under some conditions even called friends, were rounded up around them like vultures near a dying body. Yells of scorn and egging on rained down on the pair. Laughter passed between them, anticipation of violence hung in the air, so clear that you could almost smell it. Eyes that were emptied of hope, shimmering in stirred bloodlust, trapped the both men, hindering them from pulling out even if they had wanted to.

None of them noticed the girl who passed them by. Not even glancing at them as if she had seen this hundreds, if not thousands of times while continuing in her nightly stride. Like a shadow she passed, never even lifting her eyes to give the people around her a slightest glance, merely coming and fading into the shadows among the world of men. Ignoring the joys and sorrows around her alike, she seemed to be obvious to the muck of human behaviour around her.

The shouts of a pained scream from the loser went by her like a whisper in the wind. The victor raised his blade, letting the crimson liquid of his fallen opponent drip down his arm, a look of disbelief plastered in his maddened, unshaven face. It was a face of mad joy, joy to be the one who lived yet still unable to believe it.

The girl walked on.

… Even if for one brief moment, her demeanour changed. It had only lasted for a second but still so evident there if one simply looked. She drew a sharp intake of air, caused by the tremor that rocked through her body, stiffening her muscles and causing her to softly bite into her lower lips, sinking her white teeth into the soft flesh. Her pace picked up, away from the crowd of roughs which now celebrated, or mourned, a fellow comrade, following blindly the instincts that were given by the ancient laws of humanity.

Her quickened walking continued for another few minutes until she finally stopped in the corner of a square. You couldn't really call it a square, just a little opening between the rows of run down buildings around it. Trash littered the ground from a few overturned trashcans, giving the place a rather sweet smell of decay and rotting food. A stray cat shot its head up, eyeing the new company with a rather disinterested look before continuing its meal.

She released the breath she had been holding in a long, exaggerated sigh, lifting her head towards the clearing sky above the city. Her face softening into a relaxed expression as the moon came forth, as if upon her calling, bathing the girl in its pale dreamlike gaze. The motion made her hair fall back, revealing a pair of soulful maroon orbs stained in primal red.

It was a good night. Not too cold yet chilly enough to sting her pale, delicate looking skin. If just this annoying fog could clear away it would have literally been perfect. The moon was singing in the sky, inviting and tempting her with its cold light. Yet, she restrained herself, calming the excited jolt in her midsection with another deep intake as she closed her eyes.

She could still smell it, a few hundred metres away, the blood that was spilling on the pavement. The nasty, stinging smell of an unwashed human body was mixed into the delicious odour together with the owner's cheap deodorant. A suffocating stink of male that made her want to retch.

Another scream echoed through the night. Someone had apparently started a new brawl before the first body had even bled out. She could still hear it, the heart of the dying, or presumably already dead man on the ground. It was pondering, the muscle working itself into a frenzy to deliver the much needed blood to the rest of the body, causing even more of the precious liquid to spill from the wound, therefore killing its host even faster in the process. The men around the body moved, swishing sounds of clumsy movement, bone and flesh clashing into each other to bring pain and the excited, almost aroused panting from the onlookers, she could hear them all. It neither disgusted nor amused her, however; she had seen this before. The traits of humanity, hidden in the creation which they called civilization where they were expected to behave.

Humans were creatures of so short a lifespan, therefore they strived to seek their passions to such extremes; driven by their inborn knowledge that life was not forever. Her mother had told her so when she was still a newborn, still too baffled by her second birth to digest the elder woman's words to their full meaning. How long ago had that been? She could not remember, ages and eras could pass as one slept, and yet it was all still so familiar.

And her sleep had been long.

The world around her had changed when she awoke, called back from the darkness for reasons unknown. That happened, according to the calendar of men, a little more than ten years ago. Ten years spent on travelling and relearning a world which had changed beyond recognition. The sleep had its lasting effects on her. The unnatural rest had, by unknown ways, crippled much of her memories to a degree that most images and words that could be recalled were incoherent. But still to her great relief, some things did last through sleep that went beyond death, and such a thing was her name.

Yuumura Kirika.

She was named by her originated country, the eastern land today known as Japan. But whatever memory the place should have left her, she had clearly slept it away. None of it bothered her however since those who had known about her existence should all by now be dead, by passing of age or slain by her own hands. It happened a time so long ago that all she could recall was a whirlpool of mixed impressions; joy like sorrow, pain like pleasure, all mixed into one blur together with the sounds of fading voices, screams and pleads alike.

No, she would not dwell on it. Her forehead tightening at her path of mind, subconsciously reminding her of the discomfort the subject brought her. She could not remember why or what had happened. The only certain thing was that they were all gone. It was a quiet life she had awoken to, resting in an old stone manor surrounded by grapevines which time seemingly had forgotten.

She had been all alone. The whole building had stunk of ancient death so badly that she decided to leave as soon as her legs were able to carry her, wanting to put the biggest possible distance between herself and the wretched place. The path between the mountains had taken her to a demoted village by the frontier, a quiet and laid back town consisting of nothing more than farmers that lived by what the earth could bear them.

Driven by the mad thirst of being awake and unable to summon any sense of self-control in her shaken mind, she had fed. She had savoured their mortal blood as her own until her senses cleared again, finally revealing to her logical mind the gruesome deed she had done. Her heart had bore little regret however. Remorse had come hesitantly at the sight of their terrified, lifeless faces. But one could not deny the needs of one's body; she could only sincerely hope that their souls had reached, and wandered in paradise.

Strange. Was there still so much of a human left in her? No, not if one would judge the bloodbath committed at her hands. Fulfilled but a bit shaken, she had left the land, steering her path wherever her mind desired. But still, she had found her deed to be repelling, even gruesomely so when she recalled the faces of the children.

Some may have thought it funny for someone of her kind to be repelled at death, but Kirika did not favour the power of taking life. She did not enjoy the view of corpses nor did she like making them. The blood was after all most tasteful while flowing in a live body, its sweetness at best while still being warm. It was unfortunate that the host died in the process but there was simply no other way. She did not enjoy dealing in death but neither would she ever hesitate when the task was to be done.

Each kind had their instincts, and she was merely obeying hers.

Giving the shimmering moon above a last glance, she steered her feet elsewhere, turning onto another street to continue her nightly stroll. The blood smell was still sharp in her lungs as she tried to shut it out, calming the primal urge that grew stronger in her for every passing second. A coaxing feeling of need fluttered in the pit of her stomach as the familiar burning prickled down her throat, awakening the sleeping thirst that always seemed so close.

She was tempted. The temptation was always there, the craving for blood always threatened to take over, turning her into the monster with no remorse, one who killed and fed for the pleasure instead of need. Such was a common thing when one was still young, newborns still unaware of the unwritten laws and yet unable to control the thirst that followed. Kirika, however, was long since past the age of a sapling; she was sure that her wandering upon this world had been long, and a far one. Her human life had apparently been relatively short, however. Her features were still those of a youngster, a woman child of barely mature age. Her body had been on the brink of human adulthood upon her birth, giving her the body and curves that reminded her more of a girl than a woman. The length of her second life, however, lay faded in her memories, stolen from her by the depth of her sleep like the cause of the slumber.

Kirika was by all means, a fully grown member of her kind. Both her senses and powers had long since matured from the benefit of practice and age. She was a master of her kind, one who few of the chosen surpassed when it came to knowledge and experience. A few unlucky selected had gotten a first hand experience of her skills during those years she journeyed; they were those of her kind who still believed in true immortality, and unfortunately, none had lived to tell.

Time flew by while she had drifted from one land to another. Her clothes and attire were soon replaced by more modern ones. She crossed the continent, travelling with no real destination in mind until she reached the Far East, finally setting foot on the land that was supposed to be her birthplace. But nothing there had felt familiar to her. Neither the people nor the culture brought her any peace of mind. The cities had been like so many others, cramped, dusty and loud despite being the culmination of human civilization. Somewhat disappointed and frustrated, she had continued, crossing the sea towards the new continent.

The world had still been a pretty place despite all the pollution caused by human hands. Life itself was still a beauty beyond glory like she remembered. The knowledge had brought her some joy during her journey through the lands. Humanity was as soiled as ever together with those of her own kind. Greed, hate and darkness bred everywhere you wandered, like it always did. Such was the truth of this world, and it was not like she had the right to judge the corrupted.

Death had been her birth like blood was her call. She was a creature of sin with no hope for retribution.

No, it was not her place to judge the world. She was a dark stain in God's creation. That was and always would be her place among the living until her parting to the underworld.

She accepted that lot in life, and it wasn't like she had any other choices. But despite that, she couldn't help but sometimes feel an annoying emptiness around her existence. Over ten years had now passed since her awakening, but for what purpose? Was she now doomed to wander this earth until the dreaded sleep claimed her once again?

Shaking her head slightly, she walked on. The street she now tramped on literally took her back the same way by a few hundred metres. This had been her repeated nightly ritual since her return to Paris a few months ago, when her senses inexplicably once again called her back to France. Neither could she really place the foreboding feeling she got whenever day faded into night in this city; it had become stronger over the weeks but now it was barely tolerable. A nagging feeling of lacking that was driving her to constant distraction. Walking in the streets somehow helped; therefore, most of her recent nights had consisted of exploring the darker parts of the city, wandering among the street trash like a kind of dark therapy.

"You fucking bitch, just do it!" The thick, grumpy voice of a man came from a side alley to the street. There was a woman's wail among several other male voices.

"Forget it, Sean, let's just do her. Gary, hold the whore down."

The woman was crying, letting out small whimpers in dread that seemed to encourage the men even more by the sound of their laughter. The sound of hard leather against a body could be heard as she screamed in pain.

"Fuck, don't mess her up ya hear? I'm not into banging blue beaten hags." Someone snarled. There was more laughter.

Kirika walked past the alley, not giving a glance to the misdeed that was about to be done. It was, after all, none of her business. Those were human behaviours, as disgusting as they came, and she disliked meddling in human affairs. Another scream came from the alley; the woman was apparently fighting against the rape, but futilely so, as her struggle was only met with mocking snickers.

"Let's give her a little cut and see if she'll cooperate, shall we?" It was the same man again, his voice filled with malice and snide.

The words registered in Kirika's mind, cutting into her reason like a razor in warning, but too late - the thug had already acted.

A wail of pain and horror echoed between the walls when an edge cut into flesh, severing skin, veins and bodily tissue in a snappish wet sound. The woman screamed, and screamed like never before as pain shot through her body. Her otherwise pretty face twisted into a mask of horror at the touch of cold metal plunged into her arm. Red, hot liquid ran down her limbs, soaking her clothes and releasing a coppery smell into the air. The whore, which she indeed was, whimpered and kicked out, sending herself tumbling to the pavement while clutching her arm in cramped movements.

Katie was more or less scared shitless. Her aggressors were closing in. The man she had kicked was swearing and glaring at her with angry, mean eyes while pulling out another knife. The dread had since long stripped her of all rational thinking, she could only watch them get closer in shocked silence. So she did what any person would do in her situation. Pulling her knees against her chest with her other arm, she whimpered, like prey begging for mercy under the predator's claws.

"You're so fucking dead, you ugly bitch…" He snarled. The man was the oldest of them, probably in his early twenties with a spiky short hair and a face that reminded her of a rat. She didn't look up, merely continuing to clutch her bleeding arm while waiting for the blow in horrified stupor.

How could the hook have gone so horribly wrong? She closed her eyes.

Suddenly, there was a crack. The sound was reminiscent of when you snapped a fresh, thick stick in half, and echoed between the damp brick walls. A sick, gurgling moan from a crushed windpipe followed, accompanied by a clattering when a knife hit the grey pavement. The men turned around, only to be met with the horrid sight of their previous comrade. His face was twisted into a grimace of absolute terror while staring at them behind lifeless, frozen eyes. His neck was hanging haplessly, connecting his head and body in a sloppy way like a stretched rubber band. Despite that, however, his corpse still stood erect like a grotesque statue coming to life, held up by an unseen force from behind. Clouds of steam that briskly dissipated into the cold night air escaped his still widely gaping mouth, witnessing his last breaths in life while the bulging eyes stirred painfully one last time before going blank.

One of the men screamed in terror and threw up at his feet at the nightmarish picture, but was still unable to take his eyes off the unearthly sight. The leader with the ratface swore a long curse and reeled back, almost slamming against the wall where the woman still lay bleeding, her eyes also fixed on the horror before the trio.

The body fell to the ground in a jointless heap, hitting the pavement with a soft, fleshy thud to reveal the silhouette of a young woman standing behind. The shadows seemed to dance around her, covering her features from their mortal vision while she stepped over the body carefully. The corpse of their fellow comrade didn't distract the remaining two men for long, however, when they sensed the foreboding feeling of incoming danger.

They stood frozen in their positions, unable to move or flee from the impossible crushing presence of death that radiated from the girl before them. She seemed relaxed but her stride showed, even if just a little, restrained excitement. Her movement was fluid, and possessed an almost catlike grace while she glided towards the pair of terrified men in utter calmness, showing no wish whatsoever to haste her obvious deadly intentions. The leader suddenly jolted, tearing his limbs from the trance with a desperate cry as he flung out his arm, sending the knife toward her in a clumsy throw. The girl didn't even bother to flinch, however, as she simply brought up her hand and snatched the flying projectile out of the air while continuing her advance towards the two men.

Her face was serene and calm, almost childlike if it hadn't been for the deadly, almost sad blankness of her eyes.

She blurred before their eyes when her body suddenly exploded into action, impossible for the human eye to follow. Her movements were like a feline beast's that had been unleashed upon its prey in hungry fervour. The men never had a chance to scream as she was upon them like lightning, giving them no opportunity to react nor defend themselves. The younger one of them gave up a shriek and tried to run, but was thrown back immediately. The knife of his friend was now prodding out from his left eye socket, rammed in with an edge cutting precision, achieving an instant kill. The girl leaped over his tumbling, sprawling body in the same motion, landing in front of the remaining terrified man.

The last thing the leader saw in his mortified horror was a pair of red stained eyes, burning with a haunting look of hunger, unfamiliar to the human world. He swore, and mumbled a prayer, knowing that God would not heed his call. There was little remorse but an eager glow of excitement in her young, flawless face when the blow came, so powerful that it threw his head and body against the wall, crushing him against the grey cement like a child would crack a nut. 

The lifeless, broken body fell to the cold, wet ground with a sickening fleshy thud. Kirika gave it no second look as her eyes turned to the woman on the ground. She was staring at her with big, exaggerated eyes that shone of both horrified disbelief and mixed gratitude. She was cramped up against the wall, blood still spilling from her wound, but she seemed not to care less about it as her eyes remained transfixed on the Asiatic girl before her.

Katie swallowed hard and took a deep intake at the sight. It was the same girl who had passed her on the street before, the one who sent her musing just before the little pervert bought her. The same little pervert who now lay dead on the ground with his rapists for friends. The girl merely stood there, breathing evenly but literally brimming with rugged excitement as those bloodstained eyes graced her broken body. They were maroon, yet crimson glowing orbs in the dark; dangerous, unearthly and yet ravishingly attractive, like the eyes of a forbidden lover. No emotions or even the slightest hint of sympathy could be detected in them; they were like merciless jewels of the night, crowning the delicate features of a wayward angel.

She was beautiful.

Katie drew a deep, subconscious breath in visual pleasure at the sight before her. Logic and sense were long since gone from her already jumbled mind as she merely sat there bleeding, staring up at an ethereal face.

A hand came up, cupping her chin and she shivered in eagerness and pleasure, all sense of dread forgotten like the smarting wound on her arm. The girl leaned closer to her, tracing a pale finger against her red flushed chin. Her breath came now in deep, leisurely gasps as she shuddered at the softness of the touch, unconsciously giving in to the slow seduction of this child succubus.

Eyes even more deeply crimson than the colour of her spilled blood pinned her down, locking her by unseen, yet physically effective chains. She could only gasp as her mortal senses were overfilled by the power of an overpowering presence, basking her senses in a brief glimpse of something eternal.

The darkhaired girl before her parted her lips, but no speech came.

You have seen, I cannot let you live.

The thought pressed into her mind, briefly registering while she tried to grasp its meaning.

Bear me no hatred.

Kirika forcedly curled her pale lips in a small, sad smile, eyes softening temporarily at the frozen woman below her.

Walk rested, mortal woman. I take your blood as mine.

Katie found herself suddenly pulled upwards by petite yet strong hands. The girl had sneaked her arms around her waist and back, forcing their bodies together while she dived downwards and buried her head in Katie's neck. Katie opened her mouth in a silent cry at the waves of pleasure that ripped through her at the physical contact. Her vision went blank as she felt how the girl's lips brushed against the sensitive skin below her ear. A small, wet tongue touched against her perfumed skin, coaxing her to lean her head back, granting the girl better access to her willingly given flesh. Katie let out a soft moan at the heavenly ministrations. Hands roamed her back, holding her efficiently in position while massaging her muscles into a state of utter relaxation. She threw her head back, her green eyes rolling back in their sockets when the girl brushed her lips seductively against her collarbone, being eager to give this dark, childlike goddess all that she had to offer.

Kirika let out a needy whimper between her ragged breathing when the last of her restraints crumbled to her nature. The accelerated rage from the killing and the smell of blood was now overwhelming her senses completely; a small wail escaped her lips as she found the perfect spot she had been searching for under the red haired woman's left cheek.

Unable to wait any longer, she sank her fangs through the soft layer of flesh and skin, finally indulging herself in the taste of mortal lifeblood in blissful ecstasy. The feeling was one of release as the hot liquid flowed into her mouth, down her throat and settled into the flow of her own body. The warmth was heavenly. Letting out a small sound of delight at her victim's eagerness, Kirika gasped. Shots of electricity trembled through her body, urging her to hurry her task before the blood cooled. She tangled her hand into the woman's now dishevelled hair, sucking urgently against the pale skin to drain the greatest possible amount of the precious red liquid from the now sagging body.

Katie's blood was boiling in her veins, responding to the smarting movement against her neck that made her mind go white in pleasure. She raised her arms and reached around the girl's head, trying to press the girl even deeper into her task as her body craved more of the heavenly bliss. Her arms didn't obey however, neither was her mind longer coherent enough to register the reduction of mobility. Everything seemed to be moving sluggishly now as weak moans escaped her now and then and the feeling of draining took over. Even the action of breathing became heavier while her vision began to dim, sinking her senses deeper and deeper into a familiar darkness reminiscent of sleep.

She parted her now pale, bloodless lips one last time as the light faded from her eyes. Falling back lifelessly into the chocolate haired girl's arms, she came to rest, succumbing to her final sleep with a fulfilled smile on her peaceful, now bloodless face.

Kirika released the bite with a small growl, the sweet liquid still dripping from her lips as she carefully licked up the last droplets that spilled from the wound. She cleaned it thoroughly before releasing the woman. The blood had been good, not virginal but still young, not yet entirely fouled by the stink of sin and despair. She stood up, laying the woman's arms across her chest in a resting position before licking her lips clean.

Calming her breathing to a normal state, she savoured the warm feeling of satisfaction that made her limbs tremble. Her head felt numb in the dim of the aftershock, her senses still tingling from the previous pleasures. Power surged in her veins as she felt how the raw strength of living blood flowed, whirled and merged in her body, adding to her own strength by tenfold. She felt alive.

Leaving the bloodied alley behind without casting the bodies another glance, Kirika decided to continue her lengthened walk. The woman was, after all, only one among many. She had since long lost count of their numbers, the many humans that became relievers of her thirst, and she did not have any plans to start. It was simply a necessity of her kind.

Would a human question his ethics in eating a cow?

Of course not, so neither would she question about her own feeding. She had to admit that the act was enjoyable, addictively so, but Kirika learned long since to control the urge, or at least restrain it enough so she could dwell in the world of men without hassle. She gave in now and then, or her powers would slowly fade as the urge to feed became stronger. Like today, when the smell of blood became too strong to bear, sending her to react instinctually. It happened very seldom as she tried to keep the numbers down to a minimum, yet not even the strongest of her kind could entirely deny one's birth-given instincts.

Her blood stirred at the thought. Yes, her body was still craving more even as she walked. It had been months since she last indulged herself in the pleasurable act and her body was clearly reminding her of its needs. She licked her lips, the taste of the woman still lingering on them, teasing her with the coppery flavour. 

Yes, why shouldn't she? It was a pleasant night and still young.

Her lips twitched. One who looked would have seen a rather pleasant if not serene expression on her face. Basking her face in the pale moonrays, she felt completely at ease. The orbital lady above was calling, summoning her with its haunting hymn. She could feel herself give in as her mind and senses joined in the lunarsong, which forever baffled her by its semi-eternal beauty.

Drawing a deep breath of the cold air, she leaped towards the sky. The lights of the human world below her grew fainter, like a dirtied surface mirroring the star covered arc above. She left the rooftops behind. None of the muck could touch her here where she was alone in the emptiness, the moon and the briskness of the ice cutting wind being her sole companions. Her lips parted in silence as she mouthed the ancient words that echoed through space, her ears filling with the luminous hymn of the lunar orb, empowered by the screeching of the howling wind. Like in passing ages it had called her ancestors, it was now calling her. It was calling to its children to play, spurring the kindred of the night to the blood hunt.

Despite her usual aloofness, Kirika had to let out a shiver in anticipation, wrapping her thin arms around her frame as she contained herself completely in the flow of the song, to the degree where she found herself humming to it. She could feel how her mind dimmed as her senses sharpened to such an intense degree that her intellect became blurred. With a final twist of heart she gave in, seeing the futility of her rather childish stubbornness.

And like a shadow returning to the night, she was gone.

*{-------}*

Children born in the darkest of nights.

Eternity granted by an ancient fate.

Amidst the streets of Paris, our tale of nightwalkers begins.

****************

Living is learning. And I dare to say that in the recent few months, I have improved my writing some. I can not however, fully take credits for this as I have also learned another important lesson in life during the same time.

To write is to owe.

I owe this story to a few people, I still cannot say when it will be finished but your encouragements, critics and comments have been helpers as much as kickers. And it is much due to you, that I will keep writing on this and certainly do my best.

LeeT911- Comments engraved in gold. $_$

Sprite Speigel – Gaiman is God, yes? ´^_^`

BrokenSword – Simple yet absolutely *brilliant* sentence structures. *_*

Kuroshiro"Late" does not exist in this one's vocabulary. -_^

*Thank* you, for your hard work, kind words, well-deserved critics and hilarious remarks. I'm curious myself of where this will go, and you guys have been great helpers as the kick off. My gratitude knows no boundaries.

And of course, all of you read-thirsty bunch on ffonline, who knows just how much a few words can give. You know I love you all. ;)

TBC