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The sun never shone in the N109 Zone.
Shrouded in mist and darkness it was an ideal habitat for vampires. But the synergies began and ended there. The night walkers upset the delicate balance that Sylus had worked so hard to achieve and they were a never ending thorn in his side.
No matter how many times he thought he had exterminated them, they kept crawling out of the cracks and sewers at the most inopportune moments.
They were like rats, and Sylus culled them like rats.
Once a month, he would prowl the streets under the full moon when they were at their weakest and cut them down. Undisciplined hedonists, they often reproduced with unwilling victims once they’d been sated and newborn vampires were even worse. As individuals they were easy enough to dispatch, but in swarms they became a damned nuisance.
If he could, he would have delegated this undignified task to his henchmen but guns were useless against their cold, hard skin and very few of his men had any swordsmanship training. They were harder to kill than humans, but even vampires could not survive having their heads separated from their shoulders.
It was because of this that he found himself walking through shadowed alleys and haunts in the cold autumn evening, a silver longsword at his hip.
Typically, it only took a small cut on his throat to draw them out.
Predictable, really.
But tonight was unusually slow. He’d slew three, two younger ones and one grizzled one. He didn’t like to play with his prey and made quick work of them, decapitating them and crushing their remains with his Evol. No need to leave a mess.
There was no point in wearing any kind of armor or protective gear. The greatest weapon he had was his bait - fresh blood pulsing under warm skin.
His footsteps were nearly silent, padded by deliberate heel-to-toe movement to avoid alerting their keen ears. Vampires were slippery things. Although the young ones couldn’t imagine being prey, the elders survived only by knowing when to make a quick escape.
So, he listened intently as he walked along.
Most denizens of the N109 Zone knew better than to come out on a full moon. Although they were at their weakest - they were also their most desperate to seek out fresh blood and feed. Once they were frenzied it was easy enough for Sylus to distract them and make quick work of cleaving their necks.
The distinct squelching, vacuous sound of a vampire feeding echoed from a nearby alleyway. Low, fluttering groans accompanied a higher pitched purring sound that only Sylus’ draconic ears could pick up.
He stepped carefully, withdrawing the sword without a sound and approached the alley. He paused a moment to take in the scene before him, evaluating the best way to trap his target.
It was a female vampire. Her head bent over someone - a male human - who she had pinned up against the side of a brick building.
Her hair, long and dark fluttered in the wind behind her with an unnaturally bright sheen from the full moon’s light.
Sylus couldn’t see her face, but made out the long, pointed black fingernails protruding from pale, graceful hands effortlessly keeping her victim in place.
One hand turned his chin mercilessly to the side at an unnatural angle and the other crushed his shoulder against the wall, holding him upright even as he began to slump.
His head was thrown back in ecstasy as she drained him of his life.
Poor bastard.
Didn’t even realize he was about to die.
Sylus knew this was the time to move in. It was foolish to waste the element of surprise.
But something kept him transfixed, rooted to the spot. He watched in a stupor as her fangs retracted with a sickening wet noise and slid back into her mouth. Her delicate, taloned claws pulled back from the man’s chin and shoulder.
The man, now just a corpse, fell to the ground dead.
Detritus not worth her notice.
One taloned finger wiped the mess of blood from around her mouth and her long, forked tongue swirled around it once to clean off the remaining liquid.
In a flash of black and red mist, he materialized at her side, sword in hand and swung hard to slice through her neck and hit the brick wall on the other side.
But his sword doesn’t make contact with her neck, nor the wall. Instead, it was wrenched from his grasp in an effortless twisting maneuver.
She’s taken the sword in hand and kicked into his chest, hard. The air in his lungs punched out as she forced him to his knees.
The sharp tip of the sword is under his chin and all he can do is lean backwards to ease off of the pressure.
Her features are arresting and he can't help letting his eyes slide over her delicate cheekbones, full lips and mesmerizing garnet eyes.
Even for a vampire, she was remarkable.
Her ruby red lips, glossy with her most recent kill, pull back to reveal a dangerous smile.
This is not how he had expected his time on Earth to end but, he supposed, there were worse ways to go than at the hands of such a beautiful creature.
The tip of the sword presses harder into his throat and he steels himself to receive the treatment he would give her if the positions were reversed.
But she pauses.
“Your eyes.” She leans in and forces his chin further up, “are like mine. Beautiful.”
A shiver, unbidden, runs down his spine as her siren’s voice washes over him.
Another reason not to let vampires see you before you struck - their voices could sometimes compel humans.
The smile on her face is suddenly gone, replaced by a look of concentration. Her lips part and fangs slide out again, poking over her bottom lip.
A trickle of blood runs down his throat where the sword cuts into the delicate skin. She looks down in fascination and inhales deeply.
“You’ve had your fun.” His sentiment is clear. But she remains still, examining.
Pressing the sword into each side of his jaw, she turns his head this way and that, taking in every angle as if he were nothing more than a toy.
The moment, perhaps no longer than thirty seconds, but for Sylus it seems to stretch on for an eternity.
“Kill me.” His voice is low and demanding.
The smile that had faded with her curiosity returns in full force.
Despite himself, a second shiver ripples through Sylus. Not of disgust, necessarily, but something more deeply rooted in his psyche. The next time he blinks, the sword is gone from his throat.
As is she.
He exhales deeply and scrubs his hands over his face, falling to sit on the backs of his heels in the damp, dank alleyway. She had escaped. And took his sword.
She rarely sleeps, and tonight is no exception when she steps back into her velvet clad lair.
Over many years, she’s transformed her nest from something dark and musty into a haven to spend the majority of her time. Beautiful tapestries, thousands of books and strange art that seems to watch her move from room to room keeps her occupied.
The N109 Zone was not her first choice of residence, but humans had developed increasingly advanced weaponry and there were few places left for her to find solace.
The blood from the humans here was acidic, at best, and sickening at worst. Protocore modification and street stims made their veins run rancid.
Still, despite her advanced age, even she was not immune to the call of the full moon and had gone out tonight to feed. Turning the silver sword over, she considers it. The hilt was decorated intricately, more ornate than she would have expected of the Onychinus leader.
Yes, she knew who she laid eyes on tonight, though she suspected he did not know of her.
It was for the best.
She understood he did what he must to keep his own ‘lair’ balanced and did not resent him for it. He would kill her if he could, and, perhaps she would feed on him until he lay limp in her own hands one day.
Tonight was the first time he had seen her, but it was not the first time she had seen him.
It was a guilty pleasure to stalk the man from the shadows.
She had so few curiosities left after many centuries and she let herself savor it.
Strong, for a human, if he was one. His silver hair and red eyes seemed to indicate something else. And his blood, oh his blood, she had immediately siphoned it off of the tip of the sword as soon as she returned and bottled it with a precious crystal stopper.
The scent was divine.
It was only because he had allowed her to finish draining her meal that she had been able to control herself when his skin opened to her.
The vitality of it had waned as the temperature cooled and she swirled the container in her hands, considering how best to preserve its remaining life force.
“Shall I place it into a cryogenic freeze, Mistress?”
Natasha had been with her for many centuries, serving faithfully as a handmaiden. She had, perhaps, worked for her family when they were both mortal but neither could remember anymore.
Natasha knew of her mistress’ interest in this human. She neither encouraged it nor judged her mistress. It was not her place.
It was not the first human man she had taken a keen interest in, but it was the first who her mistress has stalked for more than a few weeks.
In fact, the elder vampire had taken delicate care to avoid drifting too close.
Sylus
She tasted his name after Natasha departed with the crystal decanting of his essence. Even the consonants were delectable.
When she did follow him, it was only at night in crowded spaces where she couldn’t make out his unique taste in the air from the many other humans surrounding him.
But now… she turned the sword over in her hands. The barest echo of his smell clung to the blade and she brought it up to the cold skin of her nostrils.
If she had been human, her breath would’ve condensed on the silver surface.
Could she leave him vulnerable to her fellow creatures who undoubtedly sought revenge for their fallen peers?
To be near him was to hasten his death, but perhaps, just this once she could allow herself to visit his own lair. Just to return the blade.
It’s darker the next night after the full moon. Wind rattles the many windows of the Onychinus headquarters and she stares up at the building.
Death for this mortal was inevitable. Entropy was the only promise for mortals.
Her presence in any human’s life inevitably meant it would soon end.
She would return the sword and leave. That was all.
It’s trivial to break into the onyx covered building. Slipping silently past the defenses like smoke, she’s able to easily avoid the security cameras and sentinels patrolling the hallways.
Directions are unnecessary. She needs no map or schematics of the building to find his personal quarters. His scent here is too strong to deny his location.
Like a shadow she flits through the halls and up the stairs to the upper most floor, pausing only when she reaches the double doors.
Thump, thump, thump
His heartbeat is steady, a melodious sound to her ancient ears as it plays slow and sweet on the other side of the wooden doors. Her clawed hand rests on the handle and for a moment, she feels doubt.
Does she really have this much control? Or will she snuff out his delicate life before she can stop?
The silver sword hangs cold and heavy on her back and she makes the decision, entering the oversized bedroom. The room itself is bathed in his scent and it makes venom pool in her mouth but she swallows it down.
The area closest to the door is a pseudo miniature armory and the place where his sword is meant to hang is obvious - an empty set of hooks above several locked cases of firearms.
Silently, she replaces the sword and turns. She should leave, but…
Would she ever get a chance to be so close to him again?
His breathing is velvety and ragged at the same time. Despite his otherworldly appearance, she thought, it seems he is just a human after all.
Floating to the center of the room, she indulges in a long look at his figure. He’s off to one side of the bed, sleeping on his back with one hand on his chest and the other stretched out toward the center of the bed as if reaching for an invisible lover.
How easily she could slot into his arms.
Before she can stop herself, she floats over to the bed and lies down. Her body makes no dent in the bed or the pillow when she places her head down to face him.
So beautiful.
His silver hair is spread out on his pillow, heavy brow relaxed and smooth. His long, slightly hooked nose calls to her and it takes every ounce of self control not to run a talon down it. His lips, rosy pink, are slightly parted as huffs of moist air pant out of his warm mouth. The slightest stubble dots his jaw and she longs to feel the rough of it against her skin.
Down his throat, she watches his jugular vein throb with hot blood - just a thin layer of skin between her and his life force.
Against her wishes, her fangs suddenly slide out with a metallic shing and he stirs in his sleep. His brows furrow and she has to hum lightly with her siren’s voice to soothe him back into his dreams.
Under her spell already, what could be the harm of just one touch?
Her clawed hand reaches out and a knuckle grazes the outside of his cheek as she continues to hum a lullaby. He whines ever so slightly.
His skin is warm. So warm. So wonderfully alive. She would love to turn him in this moment, to infect him with her cursed disease and keep him forever. But then he would turn cold, dead and damned like her.
No, better to let him live out his human life and watch from afar.
It’s a long while before she can summon the will to leave him. She commits every aspect of his sleeping form to memory, cataloguing every detail until there's nothing left to note.
She leaves him fussing and rolling over on the bed when her melodic humming ends.
He’ll find the sword the next day.
She hopes her lullaby will linger in his dreams.