"Dear Sirs,"...

Beneath the professional salutation was very carefully scribbled "and madams" as if the author was not accustomed to including women in the text and only just recalled it.

"I trust the recent strain of deaths has come to your most distinguished attentions. I would hereby enjoy taking full responsibility for every murder, slaying, or otherwise snuffing out of the victims. Futhermore, I do not intend to cease. I have spent three hundred forty-seven years here and for each of those years, a person shall die. Thank you for your devoted time and attention to my cause, your efforts are heartily laughed at. Penned in mine own hand, Z."

The entire letter was scripted beautifully, the closing "Z" done in flowery elegance. The envelope contained neither a date nor an address. Splotches of black ink suggested a quill or faulty pen. There were no fingerprints to be found.

Within the time of the letter's finding at 4:30 A.M. and the following morning around 6:54, three more people were dead. Like the eight before them, these unfortunate victims were slain in the most brutal of ways.

Broken bones stuck out from limbs mashed into crimson pulps. Ribs were laid open like boat timbers. Face were mutilated. Blood splattered walls, the sidewalks, trashcans, mixed with dew and tainted the air with the sickly scent. The bodies still steamed. There were no sounds. No footprints, clothing scraps, skin cells, hairs, signs of sexual pleasures taken.

High profile citizens, homeless vagrants, quiet boulevards and slums. The selections were varied and no two victims related besides their deaths.

Stories flew high and wide. The streets were empty after nine and people moved in packs when walking. Safety in numbers. This had gone on for a week. Pedestrian eyes scanned papers that told of another dead, another unsolved murder, another strike from the silent night killer. Mad. Violent. Savage. It was the talk of the day and the whispered fear during the night.

Zesiro drummed glassy nails on the plastic sheet of the bus kiosk wall. Another night's work complete. Another three dead. He had cleaned up to an immaculate state and pondered upon his night's crusade.

First the men walking alone. Two broken necks, but he had proceeded to rip and tear at their flesh and paint flowers in their blood. A pretty scarlet daisy. Then that dumpy woman. She almost squeaked. They'd find the rest of her in a bush half a mile down the road.

He swallowed to a nasty lingering taste in his mouth. Blood from a few nights ago. The last time he'd eaten. A few nights ago. A rabbit he'd caught. He had not hungered in so long. Now he more enjoyed spilling the blood of humans than supping of it.

He had awoken alone. Stalked alone, hunted alone. There was no more Odion. There never would be again. And so the mortals would suffer for the lost soul of his slain brother. The fire had taken his bother. He could not heal as fast the flames seared his skin. Zesiro had felt it and not. Had sensed the last dying screams, and his body still shook in the core.

The kiosk stank of urine and cigarette smoke. No buses were coming for few enough people dared venture out at night. Zesiro buried his hands in his albaster skin, feeling tears and sweat on his face. The liquids were tinted pink with blood. He cried tears of blood.

His clothing was rumpled, worn the same night each night of the past week. The dye was gone, his hair was entirely black, neither washed nor brushed. Nothing mattered now that his brother was gone. Now that he was alone...

Haze had read of the murders. She had read down to every grusome detail. Bodies ripped in half by inhuman strength, cut throats, spilled insides. Spilled blood. People spread a rumon that a madman named 'Z' was killing everyone. They said he was to kill millions, and this had caused some of the city to leave. No one knew who was next, and all of them seemed to spring from hatred. Worse yet, Haze had a hunch to know who it might have been. Now she stalked the streets alone, looking for the killer.

A crime scene was set up on the street, and she went for a look. Man, broken neck, with a flowered grave. Flowers from blood. Haze watched as they took pictures, packed up the bodies, and left the bloodstained scene. A man came in with a blue light, looking for hairs or semen or any clue to lead them to the killer. An hour later, they rinsed the scene, and Haze moved on. She wanted to go move in, and didn't want to walk. Of course, the bus stop would be best. Where was the nearest one?

There was a kiosk a few blocks away, and Haze went towards it. She figured that the two bodies back there were enough for one killer for one night, and strode down the street carelessly. She was more excited at the fact that Christmas was coming and she had a home to celebrate in. But then again, she had so few friends to celebrate with. Grace and Zesiro... But both of them together would be catastrophic. She sighed, and walked into the kiosk, startled almost to death. A man with his eyes ripped out, leaking blood down his cheeks? No...

"Zesiro... Zesiro are you ok?"

She bent down and looked up into his eyes, worry shown across her face. He was crying. Crying blood. She frowned, and rested a hand on his knee, speaking up in a soft whisper.

"Zesiro... What's wrong? Why are you doing this?"

Zesiro sensed an approching presence. Should he kill it? No. It was pleasantly familiar. A soft weight on his bony knee. Familair smells and a familiar voice.

"Haze..."

He croaked and lowered his hands, staring at her with shimmering eyes.

"What are you talking about?"

He shot back and turned to glare out the tinted sheets of plastic serving for weak walls to his left.

Haze felt his words spit out at her like needles, and she couldn't help but feel like she was talking with a three year old. She answered in a slightly dry and matter-of-fact tone.

"Well, you are in the corner of a bus stop, crying blood, while murders have been comitted left and right by a 'Z' that leaves no trace. And, not one murder was commited at daytime. Not ONE. Zesiro... You have the world stumped, but it isn't fooling me. Please... Just tell me what is wrong?"

She looked at his eyes in the tinted plastic windows, and sighed. She moved from sitting on her heels to sitting cross legged before him, the curt and almost unfriendly look gone from her eyes. They were gray, but not the cold gray of cement. A softer gray, of clouds or goose down. Gray with sorrow.

"Why aren't you scared? The rest of this god-forsaken city is..."

He demanded, pulling himself into a fetal position and trying not to look at her. He did not know what he might do. This was all very frustrating. Why was she here anyway? She was supposed to be hiding behind locked and barred doors like everyone else.

"They took Odion..."

He said finally, though more to his knees than to her face.

Haze sighed, and took a minute to think about it. Why wasen't she scared? She had no idea why she wasen't. But she knew that she couldn't lock herself up yet because she hadn't been to her apartment yet, and if there was no door to lock, then there was nothing to hide behind, so she might as well be fearless. Foolish would be better put.

His comment of Odion made her feel a bit of remorse. She knew very little about Zesiro and his family, but aparently he and Odion had been sired together. They had been with each other for a long time, and this was basically all she knew of him. Then again, she knew that Odion and Zesiro must have been close. The vampire was crying in a kiosk after commiting at least two murders tonight.

"I am so sorry, Zesiro... But... Needless slaying isn't the way to solve this... Then again, I am not putting my neck on the chopping block to stop you. I did see a picture of a man ripped in half... I don't think I wanna know how much that hurt."

She tried smiling, but she knew it was more of nervousness than a joke. Zesiro wasn't himself. Well... She shouldn't say she knew him, but this wasn't the part of him she knew. Nor did she want to know it.

"He only suffered for an instant. I have an eternity to live without my blood brother. My baby brother... My Odion."

Zesiro pressed his face into his knees and sobbed again. Her words rubbed against him, angered him. He just knew she would not understand. Although what there was to understand, what he even meant, what he thought she should realize, this was never made clear.

"It is easy for you!"

He roared suddenly, flashing his pearly fangs.

"You don't know what this is like! All of the twisted mortals... they think a vampire's life is glamorous... All the time the voices.. the voices... and now I sleep alone. I am now alone. And your world that killed him will suffer for an eternity with me!"

He made as if to grab her, his claw-like hand stopped a few inches from her face.

Haze jumped back, and akwardly at this. Sitting cross-legged didn't offer much spring, and she was quickly finding herself falling backwards. Her hands did break her fall, and she looked back at him. He was angry. Rightly so, she hadn't been the nicest. Then again, she had said nothing of an easy life for him. She couldn't help but roar back at him.

"Mortal? MORTAL, Zesiro? I am a Goddess! I am no mortal! Not the kind you rip to shreads on the street! And as for saying your life is easy, I said no such thing, nor did I imply it. Hell, you have it worse than me for a number of reasons. You never see the light of day. You need to drink... Drink blood."

She shuddered at these words, and faced him again. He frightened her, his fangs and his clawlike hands scrathing out at her. The scariest part was the red stains running down his cheeks. She was a bit scared to try such a manuver, but she pulled a kleenex from her pocket and held it out to him. Her eyes were bright with fear, and she spoke in a whisper.

"Here..."

Zesiro withdrew his hand, pressing it against his sternum.

"No... you aren't a mortal. But you interact with them more than I do. I've never believed in gods and goddesses. I've traveled the world and studied many religions. Never believing a thing. I haven't seen the sun in over three centuries. That's a long time, Haze... A very long time. But I don't want your pity, or the pity of anyone else. I just want my brother back."

Of course, this could not be achieved by any power of the day or night. Zesiro sunk back against the bench and closed his eyes tightly. He opened them at her voice and hesitantly took the offered tissue.

"Thank you..."

He mumbled, equally as soft, and began trying to wipe the pink trails from his fine cheeks.

Haze rocked forward again as he drew his hand in. Still a bit concerned, she figured he would not attack her again if she kept herself quiet, did not argue, and heard him out. Oh, and not mention all the murders he has commited. She nodded every so often to his 'tale of woe', and frowned when he mentioned the loss of his brother again. She could not relate, and this hurt her, for that made it impossible to help. But he took the tissue, and this made her feel like she had done something for him. She smiled inside, but couldn't erase the frown from her face. She tried talking off the subject.

"So where are you going from here? I am assuming that you don't want to spend much of the night in a bus stops kiosk..."

She was still whispering, and she had her hands crossed in front of her over her knees, her face looking to what bit of her feet she could see through the indian style position. She figured he wouldn't hear, for she had spoken it to the ground. Then again, he was a vampire. Maybe advanced hearing came with that whole deal.

Evidently he had heard her...

"Perhaps I'll stay here the rest of the evening... and wait for the sun to consume me."

He rested his head on the kiosk wall and closed his eyes. He seemed, now, the most vulnerable and weak he had ever been before Haze.

Haze sighed, and stood up, sticking a hand down in front of him. She wasn't going to let him kill himself, even if everyone else on Earth could see no good in him. He had murdered what some would call needlessly, and when he did have a need, it was still a death. Then again, to Haze, he was wonderful, and, murders or not, she wasn't going to let him kill himself like that.

"Come on. Let's get out of here. I am not going to let you do this to yourself, so you can sit here all night and let yourself die in to morning, or you can come with me. Zero deaths in the morning or two, the choice is yours."

She wasn't planning on what she implied, but it might have the effect she wanted to get him up.

Zesiro looks up and stares at her hand. He inhales slowly and grabs it. But instead of standing, he pulls backward, toward his body, so he can loop both arms around Haze. He hugs her tightly, burying his face in her shoulder.

"Oh Haze..."

He says to her neck, keeping her held tightly.

"I'm so lonely... I can't sleep without him."

He whimpered pitifully, his hands pressed to her back.

Haze hadn't expected that. She had expected him to start yelling at her, telling her he didn't need her. And she had been preparing to fight back the pain that would come from those words. She allowed him to pull her back down, and she landed on her knees, pulled into his arms. She sighed, and wrapped her own arms around him, resting her head on his shoulder, looking off behind him, letting her words float out that way.

"I am sorry, Zesiro..."

She tried to think of something -- anything -- else to say, but failed. She held him to her, and burried her face in his shoulder. He was cold, as usual, and she wondered if being in such a position was a bad idea. He did have his face burried in her neck, and he haden't eated this night to her knowledge.

He kisses the place where he had bitten her once.

"Thank you, my darling. I will come with you now..."

He straightens, rolling his shoulders back somewhat stiffly and swallowing.

Haze smiled a bit from his kiss. She squeezed him tightly one last time, then stood again, eyes a bluish gray that told him she was happy he decided to come and sad he had lost his brother. They don't rest on him long, for the screech of a large bus causes her to turn and watch it as it comes around the corner. Perfect timing.

"I am going home. Hey, I finally got myself an apartment. Number 731..."

She was unsure of him coming over tonight, though, for the reason that she would be moving all the boxes and furniture in. The U-Haul had likely dropped it off withing the last hour.

"I don't know if you want to stop by now. I am afraid I have no where for you to sit. All my stuff is in boxes by the door. Then again, you are welcome to come anyway..."

"Number 731"

He echoes and nods. He would remember this number for future reference and watched the empty bus apprehensively.

"Well.... I could still come... and help you move. I need something to keep my mind off Odion..."

He bit his lip, nearly piercing the skin. Even hearing the name was painful. He closed his eyes and shuddered, his cold hand wrapping around Haze's tightly.

Haze nodded and sighed, accepting the arm and walking slowly towards the curb, where the bus was pulling up. She gazed up at Zesiro, and gave him a light kiss on the bottom of his jaw. She didn't know what else to do.

The bus door opened, and she stepped on, dropping a few coins into the slot to pay her fair. She looked down the bus and took a seat somewhere in the middle. Just felt better back there. Scooting to the window seat, she locked eyes on Zesiro's form, waiting to see if he would come.

Zesiro hesitated, eyeing the wiry bus driver who barked for him to get on as if afraid any murderer might jump out from behind the lamp post. Zesiro finally moved, not caring to enlighten anyone to his responsibilities, paid and sat beside Haze in silence.

He dropped his hands in his lap and his chin hit his sternum. He stared at the fossilized gum and dried patch of spilt coffee on the unswept floor as the bus lurched down the road. He figured Haze would stop when it was time.

He relaxed after a moment, his bony knee brushing Haze's leg although he made no attempts to move it. He was pretending he didn't have a spine or some such thing, rather waiting for Haze to take control. She'd move the leg if it became offensive.

It became apparent somewhere in the back of his mind that he wasn't wearing either his glasses or his spiked collar. His pale face bore troubled lines, bags under his eyes, his entire appearance stretched and weakened from not havng fed in days.

He twitched his fingers and let the seat rock under him, a quiet sense of apathy slowly setting in.

Haze watched him slump into the seat, and let out an audiable sigh. She didn't know what she could do for him, and him acting like a jellyfish made her feel a bit akward at not doing anything for him. She had noticed his lack of sunglasses, and this allowed her to see his baggy eye and wrinkled face. His knee brushed aginst her, and she laid a hand on it, resting it there. She leaned over and rested her forehead just above his ear and whispered to him.

"Zesiro... You don't look to good, and I know it must have been hard to lose Odion, but... If you were Odion, would he have let himself die or would he have moved on? Isn't that what you would have wanted for him? To move on?"

She closed her eyes and let the bus rock her towards the apartments. She knew it was a ways off, which was why she hadn't just walked. She wasn't lazy. Then again, the incarnate wasn't able to just disappear and reappear like other gods. It's why she was flesh and blood. Why she was closer to mortal than Zesiro.

He shivered as she touched his knee then slowly moved his hand over hers. He sighed between his fangs, making a whistling noise, listening to her. His lashes came down onto his pale cheeks and he leaned more towards her.

"Haze... I should have been there to help him."

He said, then slumped over entirely. His face nestled into the crook of her neck. he looped his arms around her body and hugged her tightly as if fearing some force might try and take her as well.

"I need you so much... I dream about you sometimes... Don't ever leave me, Haze... oh... don't...ever..."

He sounded as if he would cry again, holding her firmly.

Haze looked up as she heard someone laugh. The bus driver was currently rolling his eyes... Obviously evesdropping. She gave him a cold glare before wrapping her arms back around Zesiro, kissing him lightly on the forehead. She whispered in her lowest voice, using wind to transport the near silent words to his ear. Wouldn't have gotten there otherwise.

"Zesiro, if you had been there, you might have been lost too. I promise I'll do everything in my power not to leave you, but you have to be wise with your life too..."

She rested her chin on his shoulder, looking out the opposite window of the bus. The houses were familiarizing... No, they were near the stop. And she wanted off the bus and away from the bus driver. She shook Zesiro slightly, and called out in a low yet audiable voice to the bus driver.

"My... Our stop."

Haze would have stood too, but she was too busy holding the saddened vampire, and too busy being clung to. The driver pulled over, and opened to door.

"Let's go."

Zesiro nodded, though only half listening. He loosened his grip and sniffled.

"I'll try... I really, really will."

He continued to lean agaisnt her until he felt a jostle rack him. His eyes, which had been closed, reopened. Although the driver was addressed, he nodded and got to his feet. But he still did not release Haze. Instead, he chose to bring her long and walked out without a second glance at their once more surly chauffer.

"Lead the way, my dearest."

He said with perhaps a touch of his old air. Finding a familiar, friendly presence in the whirlpool of sorrow he had been caught in was very refreshing.

Haze was glad he decided to leave, but being practically dragged off the bus wasn't something she had expected. The bus driver was laughing again, and Haze felt a new found anger in her. Oh well, being the goddess of wind had its perks. One of them was swift revenge. She clearly heard Zesiro, but chose to ignore it for the moment, and pulled away from him for a minute, facing the street. Haze watched as the bus drove off, and, listened as the wind picked up and ripped down the street. Pity buses are so tall and all metal and glass. The thing tipped over so easily, and the driver looked completely confused as he came out of the bus. He did see Haze, smiling politely, as if it was amusing, then locking herself back to Zesiro's side. Poor guy was likely thinking something along the lines of, 'She did it! Wait... People can't do that...' and maybe he would go crazy. Pity.

"Awwww... Such a shame. Wish we could help."

She grinned deviously, but continued talking, as if that subject was just consisting of one smart-ass, and was to be forgotten.

"It's down this street. The gray blue buildings... Right here."

Zesiro watched the entire bus tip impassively. He was trying to keep emotionless, at least for the time being.

"All right..."

He nodded and began walking down the street towards the directed buildings, pausing again, in need of further instructions on where to go.

Haze gently took his hand and lead him up a staircase, careful not to drag him or let himself fall. That wouldn't be the best of things for him. She walked down a long dark coridor, mumbling something of bad lighting. You could tell which apartment door was hers: Stuff piled around it. Not much stuff, but stuff none the less.

"Here it is..."

She took out a single key, and pushed it towards the keyhole.


((In apartments, it is all set and waiting))