True Vamp Chapter one: Dawn

I could feel it, when the sun set. Even asleep in my coffin, buried six feet under, I could feel it when that deadly, burning light was gone from my part of the earth. Opening them, my eyes took in the old, ancient wood about an inch from my nose. The air was stale, but I didn't mind. Only the old, musty scent of the bones, collapsed to ash under the weight of the years, held any bother for me.

Taking a deep breath through my mouth, I held it and pushed my arms up and out of the top of the ruined coffin I had 'borrowed'. Making sure my mouth was shut and eyes closed, I began to dig up, feeling the dirt that had been held up by the damaged wood falling in cascades down onto my face.

When I finally broke through to the surface, I opened my eyes wide and listened closely, making sure no mortals were around to see. Though it would have been an easy job to get rid of them, and it would get rid of the thirst burning my throat; making it ache.

Shaking the grime out of my black hair, I stood up without difficulty and, once again, checking that I was alone, quickly but carefully replaced the dirt over the grave I had slept in. Once it was done to my satisfaction, and I was sure no mortal would notice any difference, I glanced at the gravestone, curious:

'Here lies Reginald Walker, beloved Brother, Son, and Husband.'

I looked away, wondering in the back of my mind what the man had been like when he was alive. But then I shook my head. It was pointless to dwell on the living. Quickly dusting off my old-English clothes, I turned toward the forest. Leaping over the high, old-fashioned black-iron fence, I quickly sprinted into the cover of the trees.

I knew I was heading away from the city, but I also knew that there were houses that edged the woods that would be much easier to break into and get out of without attracting notice. As I ran, I listen to the sounds of the night around me tirelessly. There was nothing in the natural world that was not beautiful, to me or any other vampire of my race.

Yes, there were different races of vampires; my kind were the most ancient, the most powerful, with more strength, speed, and power of mind then any of the hybrids, no matter how young the fledgling. But our kind were dying out, only others of our kind knew about us anymore, and the few superstitious mortals only recognized the hybrids for what they thought they were.

Though weaker by far then us, the hybrids had three abilities we would never posses, and that was what had started their rise in population, and what made ours die out.

They could go out in the sunlight, without fear of burning. They could not sleep, and so were not trapped in the vulnerable state that we were during the day. And last but not least, they had no blood, and instead had venom, which they used to make their 'newborns', which in their first months of life were as strong as any of our kind.

No one but the most ancient of us knew how the hybrids had come about; some said they were descended from one of our kind who had mated with a human. And there were no Ancients left, no one to tell the tales of the ancient world, none that any I knew of, and some considered me an Ancient, though I had meet some older than me. 500 years is not old for an immortal.

Suddenly I heard a noise up ahead. I looked up and saw in the distance a male hybrid running toward me. He would not have spotted me yet; their eyes were weaker, and their ears not as sensitive. I quickly leaped straight to the top of a tree perpendicular to my original path.

As he ran toward and past my tree, crossing over my scentless trail, I examined his face closely. His hair was auburn, his skin a milky white, almost as pale as mine, but his eyes were the most interesting feature: they were gold; something I had heard of in hybrids, but had never seen, and they were filled with such a tortured light that I felt sorry for him.

As he ran past, I could hear dry sobs—(hybrids could not cry)—coming from his throat. What's with him? I thought as I looked after him. Then I shrugged. It didn't matter, because now I could hear the voice of a lone female mortal, calling out to the wind, (the hybrid could hear her, surely, so why did he not feed?) in her despair: "Edward!"

I smiled grimly at the prospect of a fresh kill. In a way, I did not enjoy killing, the taking away of a life, but the feeling of the sweet nectar that was blood rushing down your throat and filling your body with warmth; seeing normally white skin turn flush with the blood flowing under the skin, as it once had when you were mortal, feeling as if you were floating on the air…there was nothing like it, no words to describe it to its fullest.

I quickly decided to stay in the trees for an added advantage (not that I needed one) in the hunt. Quick as a flash and quiet as the wind, I leaped from tree to tree, following the female's cries as she stumbled in the forest ahead.

I quickly found the female, and circled in the trees around her to get the best angle of descent. I was about to leap down to end her life, as I had so many others, when I noticed something. She was crying quietly, laying on the ground in the fetal position. I was curious; what was wrong with her?

Quietly, making no noise, I jumped down from my perch and landed beside her in the grass, just watching her; head cocked to the side. "He's gone…He's gone…" she whispered in a heart broken voice. Suddenly I felt a flare of sympathy and loneliness engulf me. How long was it that I had wandered alone? For how many years have I walked this earth, with no voice other than my own thoughts?

I knew now, what I was going to do.

"Hello, mon ange mortel, les soins au gout enternity?" I whispered to her, slipping back into my native French. Below and beside me, the girl stirred at the sound of my voice, and slowly, she rolled over to look at me, just as, miles away in the distance, I could hear the howl of a wolf-pack, too low for a mortal to hear.

On the wind, the scent of an odd mixture of wolf and human scent that meant one thing: Lycans.