• Meetings

    Mirelle slowly regained consciousness. For a while, she lay blinking uncomprehendingly at the ceiling. Then, her memories came rushing back, and she gasped and sat bolt upright, staring wildly around her. To her right, the teenager who had stepped between her and the thug last night was sitting across the room on a chair, gazing at her with a mix of curiosity and distrust.

    “It’s alright, there’s nothing to harm you,” he said.

    Mirelle relaxed just the tiniest fraction. She glanced about the room, habit causing her to fix every detail in her mind. The room was very simply furnished: there was a desk at the foot of the bed, the two separated by a small gap. A wide window sat in the centre of the wall to the desk’s right. The door leading out of the room was in the back-right corner of the room, a wardrobe in the adjacent corner. And of course, there was the bed she was sitting on.

    “This is my bedroom,” the teenager added, rather unnecessarily.

    Mirelle nodded absently, trying to recall exactly what had happened last night. She fixed the teenager with a furious glare. “Why did you stop me?” she demanded.

    The young man shrugged. “I thought you were in trouble. Afterwards, I was just glad that a body wouldn’t be found. How would police explain that a man died through blood loss when clearly there was no blood to be found?”

    Mirelle growled. What did humans matter? They were inferior. Every newborn vampire was told so and every one of them lived up to it. Mirelle stopped growling as a new thought popped up. He couldn’t be that newborn…

    Seeing her change of mood, the teenager said, “I’ve refused to take any human lives. It’s the best disguise for a vampire.” He grinned then, showing his white teeth and two fangs. His grin was very quickly replaced by a snarl of menace. “But I won’t have any newborn jeopardise my cover here!”

    Mirelle cringed. The teenager looked at her with some disgust but stopped snarling. An awkward pause followed. Mirelle ventured timidly to ask a question. “You…are you that vampire who…escaped the palace?”

    The teenager gave Mirelle a wary glance, frowned, and gazed out the window. “Yes,” he answered eventually. “So they haven’t forgotten completely about me?” A wry smile tugged at his lips. “No, they wouldn’t, would they?” he murmured, more to himself than to Mirelle.

    Another awkward silence. The teenager seemed thoughtful as he continued gazing out of the window. Mirelle, made slightly bolder by the lack of a violent response, asked another question. “What’s your name?”

    The teenager’s eyes flicked towards Mirelle then back to the window. “Nathan,” he answered eventually. “I go by Nathan.”

    “I’m…Michelle.”

    The boy named Nathan nodded, accepting what he knew was a false name. True names gave someone power over another.

    For a while, they sat in silence, each pondering their own thoughts. All of a sudden, Nathan asked, “Are you an illusionist?”

    Startled, Mirelle instinctively answered. “Yes.” Her eyes grew wide. She had not meant to say that.

    “That would explain the gun,” Nathan murmured. He scrutinised her. “Do you feel alright? You’re not dizzy or anything?”

    Mirelle shook her head, swinging her legs off the bed and standing up. “I’m fine.” She hesitated. She added shyly, “Thank you for looking after me.”

    Nathan shrugged and escorted her to the door. “I just hope you don’t bring trouble after you,” he muttered. He shut the door after her.

    Mirelle stood for a moment, turning her thoughts over in her head. She turned away and gave the door a lingering glance before walking down the corridor to her apartment.

    * * *

    Samuel strode along the white, marble corridors of the palace. His long, white hair was pulled back into his usual ponytail. His shirt was pure white, and had it not been for his black cloak, pants and boots, he would have all but blended into the walls.

    Hung along the walls at intervals were artworks from various time periods. They covered the Renaissance to the Victorian and to the modern abstract painting. A rich, red carpet ran along the centre of the maze of corridors running through the palace. The occasional bracket for a torch spotted the walls. All in all, Samuel thought that the palace could pass for a medieval castle were it not for the marble walls.

    Samuel quickened his pace. He had received a summons from the ruler of this palace and the northern vampire clans, and he had the most unfortunate luck to be at one of the further parts of the palace when it had come. If he had not been passing the living quarters at the time, he would have run. Or maybe not, he thought. It would be undignified to run like a scared human. He had been embarrassed enough ten years ago.

    With that thought, Samuel’s mind strayed back to his memories of the young boy who had escaped him. It was unfortunate – he mused – that such a promising child had decided to deny his new identity. Samuel had searched for the boy for several months afterwards, thinking that a newborn vampire would leave a definite trail of unsolved deaths to follow. To Samuel’s annoyance, that had not been the case. Either the child managed to deny his thirst long enough to escape or his ability was more powerful than he thought, thought Samuel. In any case, the child will be dead by now. He could not have survived long. A very unfortunate loss…

    Impatiently, Samuel pushed these thoughts away. His pace increased again. It was dangerous to keep the king waiting. In a matter of moments, he stood in front of two thick, wooden doors, guarded by two sentries. Samuel’s lip curled. The sentries, in his opinion, were of the lowest forms of being – even lower than a human. They seemed human at first glance, but if you were to watch the way they stood stiffly to attention without a single twitch, you would sense something was slightly…different about them. Samuel inclined his head at them and the sentries pushed open the doors, revealing a large audience chamber.

    As Samuel stepped past the doors into the chamber, his quick eyes took in its furnishings. His footsteps were muffled again by a thick, red carpet which led all the way to the dais at the opposite end of the chamber. On the white, marble walls hung several tapestries depicting various ancient battle scenes. The roof of the chamber was curved into a dome and it was high above everything – a good way to intimidate newcomers.

    Samuel stopped before the dais and bowed low before straightening up with his eyes cast down. Seated upon the throne placed there was a man with long, unbound, black hair. The man’s eyes were shrewd and calculating and he was completely dressed in black. Slightly behind the throne stood a similarly garbed man, except for a dagger at his waist. Samuel could not see the man’s face properly for his eyes were also cast down. The man on the throne and the man beside him could easily have passed for twins. The man on the throne spoke.

    “Greetings, Samuel,” said the voice, soft, but clear.

    “You summoned me, my lord?”

    “I have news about a boy who I have only just discovered managed to escape from you ten years ago. Would you care to explain your silence on the matter?” The tone was still soft, but the words bit into the mind.

    Samuel flinched and involuntarily cringed at the malice in the voice. “My lord, I searched for him, and when I could not locate him I assumed him dead.”

    “Dead?” the voice thundered. The word resonated about the domed ceiling, making Samuel cringe again. “The boy is far from dead.”

    Startled, Samuel forgot himself and almost met the king’s eyes before he forced himself to look down again. Carefully controlling his voice, he said, “Might I request how my lord came by this knowledge?”

    The man behind the throne stepped forward. Samuel barely managed to stop himself from snarling. There was something unnatural about the man. When he spoke, the man’s voice was a sibilant hiss.

    “I see no reason to reveal my methods to you…Samuel,” the man said, sneering.

    Samuel lip lifted in a half-snarl. “How…predictable of you…Damian.”

    The king smiled in amusement. “I see you two have met.” He stood up. Immediately, Samuel and Damian bowed to him. “I’ll leave you two to…reminisce.” With that, he disappeared.

    The two vampires glared at each other.

    * * *

    A week later…

    It was the start of another school week. Nathaniel eyed the school building as he approached its front doors. He was once more surrounded by a chattering crowd. Over their voices, he heard his name being called.

    “Nathan! Hey! Nathan!”

    Nathaniel turned to see someone waving their arms at him and trying valiantly to squeeze through the crowd. Nathaniel stood aside and waited for the student to catch up. When he finally did, the boy threw an arm around Nathaniel and grinned. He was wearing a baggy, blue T-shirt, light-coloured shorts, and sneakers. He was rather tall and had short, stuck-up, blonde hair and blue eyes. He was a direct contrast to Nathaniel’s dark eyes, black hair and dark-coloured clothing; Nathaniel hoped to blend in by appearing to be an emo kid or a goth.

    “Yo, buddy! How’s your weekend been?”

    “Uneventful,” Nathaniel replied truthfully. “What about you, Tom?” Tom was one of very few people who Nathaniel called a friend.

    Tom sighed dramatically. “I’ve been trying to get that hot chick to go out with me but she keeps turning me down!” He snapped his fingers. “Hey, wait! You’re seeing a girl, aren’t you? Give me some suggestions, man. I bet you’re a natural at attracting the girls!”

    Nathaniel smiled thinly. Tom had somehow found out about Michelle and was pestering him about the details of their relationship. “I’ve told you, Tom, we’re just friends.”

    Tom snorted. “Yeah, that’s what they always say,” he said, rolling his eyes. “I bet she secretly has the hots for you,” he whispered confidentially.

    Nathaniel gently shrugged away Tom’s arm. “Get out of it, Tom,” he said, smiling widely now. “She’s three years older than me.”

    “Yeah. Right. As if that’d stop her!” Laughing, he followed Nathaniel to their first period class.

    From one of the classrooms, a teacher was leaning against a door, peering after the pair. Though he was dressed like any other teacher – light blue shirt, long, tan pants with a black, leather belt – almost all of the staff avoided him. His long, black hair was unnatural enough, but they were most afraid of meeting his eyes. His dark, crimson-tinted eyes.


    Go to: 1a39gr:7="http://www.gaiaonline.com/arena/writing/fiction/vote/?entry_id=100048941]Chapter 3, Chapter 5 (coming soon)