Prologue
At first the room looked abandoned. The floor was bare as if the house was uninhabited, but dust was nonexistent. Pale blue paint covered every surface except for a small portion of the Eastern wall where a glass door looked out to the Europan countryside. Through that balcony door the faint red glow of sunrise was beginning to crack over the horizon. The only sign of life was at the desk in the far corner. That faint sign was a candle, flickering, casting pale elongated shadows over the desk. Unsteady light illuminated the silhouette of soft auburn hair cascading over the back of a slender figure. The figure was obviously female, obviously in her late teens, and obviously sleeping.
An abrupt tapping suddenly rocked the window and caused the girl to bolt upright. Large green eyes cracked open to look at the man on the balcony. The first thing she noticed was the long tendrils of pale blond hair flowing like velvet in the night wind. The second thing was the pair of piercing green eyes glistening just below his hairline. Her slender fingers ran down the sides of her silk nightgown self-consciously as she moved to unlock the balcony door. As soon as her nimble fingers found the lock in the darkness and managed to turn it the cold wind slapped at her face. Her rosy cheeks were instantly met with another cold sensation a second after, this time the chill was not sharp but soft. This time it was the large hands of the man who had already made his way into her room and shut the glass door behind him. His thin green eyes were full of worry.
"Gwen," his voice was softer then anyone would assume upon looking over his obviously masculine frame. "You have to come with me, now. I don't have time to explain it but every intelligent vampire in the world is converging on Stonehenge and we have to join them. Now."
She looked up at him for a second in confusion, seemingly running the words over in her head until she finally understood them to the best of her ability. She still appeared completely lost. "If everyone is going to Stonehenge we'd want to go in the other direction, we don't do well in groups and if-"
Her lips were abruptly interrupted from there deduction by his. For a second he held the kiss, wanting nothing more then to permanently merge their lips until they died. Then he recalled that they might die in a matter of minutes if he let the kiss last that long. His world was reluctantly turned back into perspective. "The Elders are getting fed up with our numbers. They're bringing the population down to 500, today, tonight, as soon as the 500th one steps inside the area of the spell the others are gone. Gone. You don't have to understand, you just need to believe that I'm telling you the truth." He paused to catch his breath again. "Gwen, do you think I would lie to you about something like this?" His hands were gripping her shoulders gently now. His eyes were begging her to understand his urgency.
"No, you wouldn't." Her thoughts changed instantly as her eyes darted to the doorway leading into the main part of the house. "Gareth, if you're telling the truth then you need to get Sapphira there, please. I'll meet you there, just tell me how close to Stonehenge I need to be."
"If you can, poke it. I'm not leaving you here though, you're coming with me. Sapphira? It wouldn't be safe for her." Gareth was already tossing items from her closet into a bag he had brought in with him. He was picking up a yellow cotton top when her hand closed around his wrist, stopping him. Her hand was small, only able to grip around the top half of his thick wrist, nonetheless her point was made. He looked up and let there eyes meet, in the way that sent chills down his spine. Both eyes were green with hints of unnatural color to them. Hers were much more normal looking, a deep green that was almost brown in the right lighting. His were a sickly pale emerald, the dull edges of the pupil almost mixing with the milky white color of the main part of his eye. It seemed to dawn on him suddenly, like a light bulb had been turned on in his brain. "When did she...?"
"Recently, very recently, but that doesn't matter. If you trust me you'll do what I'm asking and take her to safety, that does matter." Her voice was even, almost devoid of emotion, but through the nonchalance there was emotion staining for freedom.
"You know I trust you, but I wouldn't feel right leaving you to fend for yourself . . . If I lost you I'd-" This time it was his turn to be interrupted by the merge of their lips. The feeling was unlike any other kiss he'd experienced, she was compelling him through touch, her lips almost saying ‘go' while entwined with his. The feel of her lips speaking to him like that was euphoric and he forgot the danger ahead for a minute. She had the ability to throw his mind for a loop, at present it was almost a deadly quality.
Or perhaps he was dreaming that the lips had been entwined with his while hissing for his departure, because when he found his way back to Earth their lips were no longer one and she was whispering "Go!"
This time Gareth couldn't deny her. He cast one more longing glance at Gwen before darting from the room and down the hallway. To the right were three doors, a small bathroom, Sapphira's room, and the linen closet. Without any hesitation he opened the second door and the obvious differences between Gwen and her sister were brought to life. Unlike Gwen's room this one showed strong signs of life, from the hand-drawn pictures upon the wall to the over stuffed baskets of laundry, to the small figure laying diagonally across the bed taking up as much room as physically possible.
Carefully making his way to the bedside Gareth leaned over the fragile creature in the bed. She could not have been more then twelve. Her hair was light brown string jutting in every direction and reaching her shoulders at the longest, about the same length as his. Her body was slender, she looked broken, as if she had just finished recovering from some fatal illness. With a gentleness that matched the way he first spoke Gareth picked the sleeping figure into his arms. "Sapphie, It's Gareth. We're going for a walk. You don't have to get up, I've got ya. Gwen'll be joining us real soon too, okay?"
The small bundle in his arms rolled so her cheek was comfortably nuzzling against his chest. She made a small sound that though undecipherable didn't sound like a complaint, so Gareth was off.
When he passed Gwen's room he saw she was already gone. He ran past the ajar door and down the stairs. It was a 20 minute run from Gwen's house to Stonehenge, more for him since he'd be using his arms to support Sapphira instead of as leverage. Gareth was glad Europe was so condensed at times like these. He couldn't run at inhuman speeds, but he did run very fast. Unlike the vampires of literature, Gareth could not fly or move at impossible speeds, he did however move at athlete speeds. For a vampire he was slow, but much more agile then most.
Once he was outside in the cool June morning wind his speed increased rapidly. His blond hair flowed behind him and the damp wind froze his clothes to his frame. It would be faster for him to ride but Gareth and horses never really got along, and that would require waking Sapphira up and waiting for her to become conscious enough to ride, or hold on very tightly. Even as he ran he could feel the taste of Gwen's lips upon his and that kept him going. He was less then five minutes out of the spell area when the first gunshot cracked through the air.
The second followed quickly with increasing volume. The third seemed loudest, or perhaps he was mixing the sound of the shot with the sound of his discomforted grunt. He couldn't be certain. Sapphira seemed to note the third shot as loudest, because as soon as that bullet lodged itself in Gareth's calf she was fully awake.
In one swift movement he had let go of Sapphira's feet, letting them fall to the ground while his other arm securely made sure her head didn't follow their descent. Once her feet were on the soil and she was standing on her own he was gone.
As he ran, at a marginally diminished speed, he saw the figure who had been shooting at him and found himself surprised. It was not the fact that the person before him was someone he knew that surprised him, but more it was the fact that the man was still alive. Gareth was sure he'd been killed by another vampire sometime before this. The hunter was good, but vampires actually teamed up when hunters were around. But of course Gareth didn't look into the fact that this hunter was different from his co-workers, because he was the same as his prey. The man before him was Lucian, the vampire hunter who just happened to be a vampire.
Lucian very much fitted the general look of a psychotic vampire hunter. Crimson red hair jutted upwards in wild natural spikes and jutted down onto the sides of his face creating thick whiskers along his jaw. As customary for hunters he wore long dark coats that always seemed to hide an unimaginably large number of weapons, and dark shaded glasses that hid his deep hazel eyes. He was intimidating even when he wasn't rapidly advancing on someone while waving a pistol before him. But that was exactly what he was doing.
Bullets could impair any vampire and knock them unconscious if hit fatal enough body parts, but the odds of a bullet successfully killing a vampire were slim to none. Many falsities had sprung up about vampires over the years, most of the legends held no base in fact. Humans seemed to have an inability to understand how to kill a vampire, in particular.
Vampires were once human and that human element, the mortal element, stayed within them forever, but it hid. Their mortality congealed itself around the bite wound that sired them. The ‘birthmark' as vampires came to call it. This small part of human skin is the only place a vampire could be fatally wounded. Most new vampires would frolic in garlic after learning this fact. They could sustain injuries anyplace else on the body, but at worst a vampire would fall unconscious as a result.
That was Lucian's fatal flaw, he had not the faintest clue where Gareth's birthmark was and his pistol only had three shots. None now. That didn't seem like a problem though once he produced a dagger from inside his cloak. Gareth had pulled a dagger from his own belt to match. A fields lengths away the two stared each other down. A few shadowy figures seemed to be watching in the distance, but neither of the two seemed to care. The viewers were most likely vampires moving towards Stonehenge and stopping to watch the show, which meant it was buying them more time.
Gareth and Lucian both held the same feline half-crouch, ready to pounce. The skin of their hands were taut over the bone, the nails of their fingers sharp and waiting. It happened instantly, one darted forward and the other followed suit. It was hard to tell who moved first. Perhaps it was simultaneous. Lucian was free of injuries and moving faster, but Gareth seemed to be a fan of subtle shifts in weight to dodge attacks. Lucian preferred moving constantly and as sporadically as possible. It was like a combination of two dances, a classical waltz for Gareth and a rhythmic jazz for Lucian.
The fight was as fierce as it was quick. Both men's hands were flailing constantly up and down. The right hands, which held the daggers, were slashing at any exposed location while the left hands and forearm caught the blaze. Neither bled though both now had wide slashes across various appendages. The only sound between the pair was a throaty growl coming from the depths of their stomachs. Lucian continued to slice wildly at Gareth who seemed to be aiming directly at Lucian's left thigh.
There was finally a grunt of pain as several specks of blood fell to the ground. The sound of the drops splashing to Earth echoed as both men froze and looked to Lucian's leg. The leg which now had a slice an inch and a half long across it. Both eyes looked up again and met. Lucian's dark shades were now broken on the ground, lost in the dance. Gareth's eyes were cool and confident. Lucian's were brimming with loathing of the deepest sort. Lucian's dagger had moved less then an inch before Gareth's hand closed around his wrist. "We could keep fighting and you could bounce around on that leg the entire time, get the blood pumping, spilling, littering the ground and subsequently summoning every vampire in the area directly to your birthmark, Hunter." This time his voice was a hissed whisper, amiable in tone but malicious in annunciation. "Or. You could stop trying to kill me, for at least a few years."
Lucian was silent, his eyes defiant and unbeatable. One thing Lucian always had and always would have was his honor. He would never give in during a fight, regardless of circumstance. He was a man who defined the deadly sin of pride.
"Or." This time Gareth drew out the ‘o' sound, "You could stand there like the stubborn man you always have been and let time kill you." The second this sentence was finished a powerful blow was struck to the back of Lucian's head. Gareth side-stepped his falling form and let him smash securely face-first into the ground. A heavy foot planted itself in the square of his back a moment later. A muffled cry escaped Lucian as Gareth's dagger sliced through his left Achilles tendon, then his right. It was painful, and incapacitating, but it would heal. On a vampire a cut like this would take about five days to gain sufficient enough use to walk, and two weeks before being back to normal. But not even a vampire could crawl himself to the spell perimeter within the time they had left.
Most of the spectators were gone now, figuring the fight to be over. Only two remained in the shadows, and then there was Sapphira a short ways away. Gareth decided to follow the crowds lead and head to safety now, he still had his mission from Gwen. He sheathed the dagger and turned to Sapphira, walking over and taking her small hand in his. They moved in silence. After six minutes the cool wind stopped abruptly and a warm chill ran over both of their bodies. As soon as they passed into the warmth people appeared, hundreds of vampires standing around the inside of the invisible perimeter. The shell of the spell itself hovered in mid air like a mist, distorting the fields behind it, letting in very little sunlight. They were in the warm patch of air now, they were safe now.
"Sapphie, I'm going to look for your sister. Whatever you do stay in the warmth, okay?" He had barely got the words out of his mouth when a small squeal came from their left. Gwen was already securely in the area and wrapping her sister in a tight hug. Her face was buried in Sapphira's shoulder for a long time before she stood erect. Her face seemed older, worried, and the faint traces of tears were evident in the steadily rising sun. "We didn't worry you did we?"
"No. Not at all." Her voice was a mix of happiness and sadness. Neither Sapphira or Gareth knew how to respond to this. After a few minutes the group was sitting in silence, waiting for something to happen. Every now and then a ripple would cut through the warmth to indicate another vampire had entered. "How will we know when there are 500 of us?"
Gareth paused faintly, by his estimate they should be at 500 now, or within the next few people. "We'll know." No sooner were the words out of his mouth then a quick succession of ripples struck. A vampire couple, from the feel of it.
The ripples didn't stop after time, they magnified, reverberated and pounded on the eardrums of everyone inside. The pounding became unbearable, Sapphira's hands were securely clasped over the sides of her head to try and block it out. And then every vampire in the area copied her motion as pain shot through the tip of the skull, finding a place in the center of the brain and making everyone keel over. Before blacking out Gareth allowed himself a brief chuckle, perhaps this would go down in history as the worlds best disguised mass vampire slaying.
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