This is part of a series of short stories I'm writing, with the help of a very good friend

He moved quickly through the streets of a nameless, faceless city. Taking in everything around him. A week ago the lights and commotion of the neon lit street would have appealed to him. This was the type of street he had spent so much time on growing up. A frantic static screen of people, cars, lights, and noise. He had always loved the noise of a city street on Saturday night.Bodies moving in every direction, some in the streetlight, others creeping in the shadowed periphery of the night. But with his newly hightened senses so on edge, he just longed for the quiet peace of his new Clan home. He slipped on his small pair of sunglasses and pushed on.

Peace and solitude were not for him tonight, tonight he was not a casual observer of those around him. Tonight he was trying desperately to blend in with what he no longer was. He had to try and fade into the crowd to become thuroughly unremarkable or else they'd spot him for sure.

"There are too many people around" he thought, "they know". He could feel it in their stares, they knew he was changed, was different. It was nothing you could see, sure he was a bit pale, but certainly no more so than the goth boyz who moped together in a little cluster that reaked of clove cigarettes, not ten feet ahead of him. And his dress was nothing that would raise an eyebrow out here. If anything he was a bit conservative in his black boots and jeans, crushed velvet dress shirt, and dark green leather jacket. His black hair pulled into a loose ponytail at the base of his neck.

He made a quick right turn and stepped into a busy pizza joint. It was loud and busy. Garish light poured over cheap plastic tables and chairs. Typical southern California, nouveau idiocy. To his newly awakened vampiric senses, the reek of garlic and grease was almost nauseating. "Man," he thought, "I used to eat this stuff?" He tried to appear casual and took the first empty seat he could find. Sitting alone in the corner he pretended to read from the menu on the table in front of him. "They'd never try anything in this crowd" he thought to himself "even if they did see me come in, they'll wait til I'm alone, til I make a mistake." As he tried to gather his thoughts, his mind drifted to the number of mistakes he had made in the last two days.

The first had been taking off on his own so soon. He had seen the others, watched them come and go as they saw fit. Without fear they went where they chose, did as they pleased. He was like them now, he was one of them, why shouldn't he do the same? "Because they are older, and smarter than you, genius." he ridiculed himself internally. "Less than a week undead, and you've run away from home and nearly gotten yourself killed. None of the others would have gotten themselves into this, no they know what they're doing, you just weren't ready, not for this."

But hindsight is always 20/20. A quick note and a rose for his dark lover, and he was gone 'Stir crazy, going to stretch my legs, I'll join you again soon'. No word of where he'd headed, just hitch the first ride he could catch and get dropped at the first place he found. Self sufficiant, alone, no one to watch over him, and no one to watch out for him. Why was he suddenly feeling such a need to prove something? he did not know, couldn't figure it out. There were friends, no, family for the first time ever. Brothers and Sisters in blood. And there was her.... the one who had taken him as more than brother, she had shared herself in ways he had never dreamed, why run from all this? "Definately mistake number one."

And the girl, she was certainly mistake number two. He should have known she wasn't what she seemed. She had been beautiful, nothing in comparison to the supernatural beauty of his beloved, but lovley none the less, and she had approached him, afer all. They had talked for awhile at the quiet bar with the lousey wine, until she was drunk enough invited him to her place. He was new to this feeding thing, and wasn't sure what to do, exactly. Was he supposed to hypnotise her with his undead gaze, like in a Lugosi movie? Should he have sex with her first? He needn't have worried about what to do with her. She had passed out on the couch before anything illicit had transpired. With no small bit of relief, he was about to help himself to her wrist when The door had exploded, and the room was all spotlights, and yelling.

Before he knew it the girl was up, sober and leveling the small crossbow at him. He scrambled against the window, covering his face, and tried to steele himself for the oncoming attack. He quickly realized he was surrounded, halogen lights glinted off polished wood, sharpened to pin points. he was half blind and scared out of his mind. Then there was the voice.

"This one's young... hardly even worth the cost of the stake." said the voice as it moved toward the door, "Nail 'im, and bring the body if there's one left, the doctors can study it. We don't see many this new out of the nest. Clean up here, I'll be downstairs".

That was it, in a blur he was through the window, and falling. The rooftop of the car exploded beneath his feet, showering glass all around. The shock wore off almost instantly and he looked up at the window, four floors above him, he grinned a bit to hmself when he thought that not a week ago, that jump would have killed him. Bullets (silver he assumed, idiots), whizzed past his head from the window above. He was on the ground and running in less than a heartbeat. tearing through the wet alleyways and into the churning throng on the screaming street. he had immediately tried to mingle with the crowd there, and put as much ground between himself, and those who had undoubtedly followed him.

Now he was alone, and scared. Now he was prey, the quarry of the haters. Those that would destroy what he had become.......Vampire hunters. They seemed to know what he would do, before he did. It stood to reason, they must have hunted hundreds, thousands of vampires in their time.

Stane alone was a legend, and it had been Stane's name the men in the room had said, Stane's voice that had sentanced him to the true death. Many were the stories among The Clan of how Stane had tracked and slaughtered dozens of dark children, bringing them down like animals in some forest primevil. And at least four others had rushed the room with Stane.

And now they were following him. ready to stake or burn him, to destroy him completely. WHY? What had he done to bring such wrath upon himself? He had not taken a single life, in the brief time he had been Kindred. He fed only from lovers, and friends willing to share themselves willingly with him. He had never taken from them more than he needed and caused harm to none of them for their trouble.

Yet her he was, running like a rabbit from the hounds. Lost, trying to find a place to be safe. He was too far away to try and reach his bretheren. Besides it would serve no good to lead the dogs to the burrow, that would only endanger the family that trusted him. No, he would rather they catch him alone, and be done with it. At least the others would avenege him, of that he held no question. For his Sires and and Siblings would not stand for another of their ever dwindling numbers to be eliminated without retribution. Maybe his death would spark an uprising of sorts, 'take back the night', and all that "fuck that" he thought, "I like being a vampire, and I like The Clan, fuck these guys. I just need to find a way out of town and home."

He was torn from his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder. He jumped out of his skin as the hand clamped onto his jacket. He was on his feet and shoving his assailant away in a blink, with embarassment he saw that he had pushed one of the gothboyz from outside. The indignant young posuer looked on the verge of tears, "I just wanted to bum a smoke, fuckin' wannabe" he snorted as he stalked toward the door.

As his eyes followed the boy to the door, every muscle in his body froze. He saw the tell tale collars on the three men squeezing into the pizza joint. The look on the face of the first one left no doubt, as their eyes met, he knew. They were Order of the Sun, Stanes boys. He had to get out, had to run, he couldn't let the slayer-priests get him or it was all over. No more relaxing by the fire, surrounded by his Clan. No more endless nights of talk, and wine, and laughter. No more waking on velvet sheets in his dark lovers arms. He had to get out.....

He found himself pushing through the crowd, past the counter, past the telephones, into the store room, and out the back door. In the alley there was nothing but trash cans and junkies.

No sooner was he in the alley than the men were around him. five in all, two were already in the alleyway waiting, and the three from inside had burst through the door behind him. In black fatigues and buzz cuts they could have passed for any elite corps in the military. Only the priest collars around their necks gave them away as being Order of the Sun. Fanatical priests, trained by the church to eliminate vampires the world over. They brandished only wooden knives (hardened and sharpend), ready to kill him him, they advanced from every side closing the circle around him. They were trained for this, he wasn't. What would Anna do? or Ash, or Storm?

What happend next was a blur of motion, as his attackers moved in slow motion around him, he lashed out with unreal force. Not since long before his being Embraced had he been in a fight. There was no grace to his movements, no sex in his violence. He struck fast and viscious, breaking bone as he punched and kicked. Slashing with sharp nails and and biting with new fangs there was blood everywhere. and then there was silence. Off somewhere else car horns and music blared, people yelled and partied in the street. He came to himself realizing that there was a definate pain in his right shoulder. One of his assailants had landed a spike at the joint. A quick, blindingly painful pull, and it was dislodged.

Panting, he moved off into the shadows and along the rainslicked brick walls. The fire escape ladder was within easy reach of his good arm and in a few agonizing seconds he was on the rooftops, where there was nothing to fear.

As his breathing leveled off, and he relaxed his muscles, he listened to the distant sounds of the street below. as he fished in his jacket pocket for a cigarette his vision heard the sound. It was the sound of a hammer pulling back on a pistol (CLICK). He didn't have to turn around to know it was Stane.

As if in answer to his thought the voice came "Not bad kid, you out manuvered my boys." There was a disgust in his voice at the incompidence of his men. "You're tougher than I gave you credit for."

The barrel of the gun was pressed into the back of his head as the young vampire listened, franticlly trying to think of what to do to save himself.

"You're young enough to be useful" Stane continued "Your going to take me to 'em, to the rats nest where you were made. I'm gonna take out those that took away your life, and made you the freak you are. Once you show me where they are, I'll put you down fast, no pain. If you try to play dumb I'll stuff your mouth with bible pages and stake you here for the sunrise. You'll burn slow and scream alot. Your call, freak."

Before the young vampire could frame a reply, there air was broken by a sharp whistling sound and a surprised grunt of pain. Hot rain spattered the fledgling's sleeve as he turned to look at Stane. Rain blinked. Stane was staring at the stump of his wrist, almost stupidly, as a shadow curled around him. The vampire, Anna, stepped into the reflected glare of the sulfur street light, a sword, of all things, held loosely in one hand. Like quicksilver, her hand snaked out and closed cruelly over Stane's wrist, staunching the spray of crimson. Rain didn't know whether to speak or start talking shit. He opted for silence.

For now. Anna's face was a sculpted mask of serenity as she turned the well built slayer into an anguished sort of marionette. In the blink of an eye, she was dangling the gaping Stane over the side of the building, implying an unlovely three story drop. Her spikey hair shone red-black in the darkness, her long limbs were relaxed and fluid. She made it look so easy, that strength and economy of movement. Stane's mouth was drawn in a tight, thin line, a rictus of pain and fear. In a very soft and quiet voice, Anna explained in great detail the ways and means by which she would deprive him of other parts of his anatomy should she see him again. Then released the stump of his wrist with out further commentary. Rain heard Stane's thin scream as he plummeted three stories into a dumpster.

Anna turned smoothly and in a flicker of silver, slid the sword into a sheath that hung across her back. He decided to ask about the sword later. From no where, she produced two cigarettes, lit them both and handed him one. She drew deeply on hers and watched him, saying nothing for a long moment. Then she spoke. "What the hell were you thinking?" Before he could answer, she continued. "You can shapeshift, remeber? You're stronger, faster and smarter. Stop thinking like a bleeder." She stood there, smoking and looking at him with her unsettling eyes, totally unconcerned about the approaching police sirens and the coming of dawn only an hour away. There was a long silence as rain thought things over. He wasn't sure if he should be offended or not. He gave her a grin.

"Can I come back with you?" He asked. "Its obvious I have a lot to learn about this whole 'walking dead' thing."

"Of course you can, you idiot." She said mildly, flicking her cigarette over the edge of the roof. "Your home is with us now." She laughed and her expression brightened. "You just have to pull your head out of your ass long enough to explore your talents." Anna touched his wounded shoulder, and smirked as he recoiled "That'll teach you a lesson. Your not invincible, but it should heal pretty fast, and you won't have a scar.

The elder vampire glanced up at the night sky. "Sun will be up in an hour or so, let's get out of here. I know a bolt hole where we can stay safely. Bit expensive, but worth it. Your treat. " She grinned and stooped to retrieve Stane's severed hand, dropping the grisly thing into her pocket. Rain stifled a shiver.

Anna winked at him and threw a slender leg over the eave of the rooftop. He watched a moment as she climbed swiftly down the faceless brickwork. Rain set his jaw determinedly and followed. Chagrined, he found the going easier than he suspected, even with the dull pain in his shoulder. He leapt the last eight feet to the ground effortlessly.

"What are you grinning at?" He asked as he reached the ground.

"I can't wait to see the look on Poet's face when she hears about your little safari." She lit another cigarette and slipped into the shadows.

Around the corner in the alley, inside a broken dumpster, a badly wounded Stane mumbled his pick up location into his walkie-talkie, through broken teeth.

~~~~ END ~~~


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