Her legs moved as fast as they could take her, which wasn’t very much, but could not be heard. She could hear the beat of her own heart in her ears and the scent of her own blood permeated the air. She could feel herself growing week, her mind starting to cloud as it had done only once before, the night when she became one of them.

Her breathing was rapid, panicked, though she had longed stopped needing air to survive. Her hands held her stomach, but one reached out for the nearby wall to steady her progress and leaving a bloody smear where it passed. The night was well into its reign and soon the sun would be coming, she had to get out of the open or become ash at the rising of the sun. She rested against the wall for a moment and took a look at her wound. Deep marks clawed through her abdomen and her blood was pouring profusely from them. She clamped her hands over it once again and whimpered in pain.

Her skin was pale and her eyes the red of her blood. You could tell she had been in a fight, one that she would have appeared to have lost, but you would have been mistaken. He was dead, but soon if she didn’t find shelter, so would she. She took a deep breath and started to move again, slightly bent trying to take the strain away from her stomach area. She looked at the building, it appeared deserted, some sort of warehouse. She didn’t care if it was dirty or rat ridden she needed a place to hide from the sun and quickly, she was not going to make it back to her hotel. She used what strength she had to break in, the back door had been chained against trespassers, but she doubted it worked very well usually.

She made for the stairs, the further down she went the safer she would be from the sun’s rays when they came. She walked down the first and fell down the second and third flights landing hard at the bottom and grimacing in pain. She crawled into a corner behind some old boxes and waited, she could feel herself weaken further still as she lost more blood in the falls. The day was an hour or two away, she could feel it. She wouldn’t have thought this would be the way this night would end, with her in dire need of blood to heal herself and unable to stalk prey. Could she make it through the day? If only that car hadn't come along, then she would have been fine, she would have fed on her prey and would already be into her healing, but no, they had come and she had been force to leave him unconscious beside the other vampire. She hoped the sun would rise quickly before the man or woke or anyone came across them, the dead vampire would be hard to explain. She had injured him badly, enough to take his life she was sure, but she had left him with some blood in his veins. It was possible that his body would remain long enough to pose a problem for them all. She wanted to do something, to fix this mess, but what could she do? She couldn't go back.

It had started over a meal, she had hunted this man for several blocks and finally corned him, but it seemed she was not alone in her desire for his blood. The other vampire was younger than she was but three times her size. He wanted her to concede him victim to him, taking her for a weakling because of her size and sexuality. The man was unconscious, and when she refused to give him up, the vampire came at her fangs and claws bared for a fight, and fight they did. It was brutal, he was brutal and she was afraid but her fear gave her power. She had to be smart, his size and skill in fighting gave him away as some sort of warrior and he inflicted several damaging wounds to her, including the ones to her stomach before she silenced him for good. It took everything she had, but proved to her once again that men could not be trusted, especially vampires.

She lay there bleeding, watching the pool slowly grow around her. She could tell she had broken a bone or two, at least one rib. She panted against the pain trying to calm herself, then she heard it faintly but sensed it more…another vampire. Just what she needed? Not likely. She was in no condition to fight another vampire, she would sure to be finished if she tried. She listened and fought to keep her eyes opened but it grew more difficult by the second, her vision blurred and she lay her head back. A moment, she could close her eyes for a moment and it would be fine. It will be fine.

Sergei looked up from the trail, his blue eyes moving slowly from the street toward the old abandoned warehouse. The trail had been easy enough to follow, the scent of blood thick on the air, the blood itself slick on the ground. Not surprising really as Sergei realized whoever she was, she must be injured and indeed Sergei knew it to be a she.

Of course things hadn’t been as simple as scenting her or any such nonsense, no.

Sergei’s nose was keen but that sort of thing was beyond him. It was something those of a more feral nature might have accomplished, but wasn’t for him. Instead the Amman had used his head when he had found the savaged vampire corpse and the unconscious mortal man. First he had sifted through the mortal’s mind, to the memory of a woman. Sergei didn’t immediately recognize her, but he did recognize what she was. And more so he recognized her hunger.

After that all the pieces fell into place, especially when looking at the clawed and fanged corpse she had left behind. He had been savaged, over powered, and left for dead. He had been on the verge of death when Sergei laid eyes on him, but a moment later he was gone, dead.

While Sergei wanted to properly dispose of the body, he knew he didn’t have the time. He would simply have to put it somewhere that the sunrise was clear to claim it and quickly before the mortal stirred. It took nearly an hour to clean up everything, to change the mortal’s memory as only Sergei himself could. He gave the man the memory of falling asleep and the wheel and picking up a lose piece of masonry Sergei found and assaulted the man’s car in a blink. Then propped inside of it, he was left to sleep and Sergei put the finishing touches on the vampire’s body, wrapping it in a filthy blanket he found leaving it on the closest roof he could toward the rising sun.

All of that had to have been done before he followed the blood trail to the abandoned warehouse and yet with nothing more than an hour’s time Sergei knew all he could do was finish his duty before the sun claimed him for the day. Whatever he found it must be handled quickly. Already his skin tingled; he was quickly running out of time.

Moving around the building, still following the scent of blood, Sergei followed the trail inside of the building through its unchained back door, following the scent down the stairs as the scent of blood quickly mingled with other scents, of rat and of old wood, mold, water, and beneath them further the scent of despair and desperation. Sergei had no illusions of stealth at this point and moved forward boldly into the shadowy abyss.

What met his eyes was more than he was ready for. The woman was there, but even as he descended the final step she fought for consciousness and lost. Emotion got the better of The Amman member then and he rushed forward, dropping to his knees beside the other immortal, his eye quickly on her smooth features, his hand cupping her cheek as he whisper, pushing him mental will into the words to make them a vampiric command.

“Do not sleep. Open you eyes.” He said tensely. “To sleep is death. Blood is life.”

And just like that Sergei pressed his wrist to her lips.

“Awaken and drink.” He commanded. “Drink so that you might heal and live…”

Sergei knew he blood didn’t have the nutrition she needed, but well and truly with all the blood she was loosing, she need something, truly anything to keep her from death’s door.

Her chest rose and fell in shallow waves as she tried to fight the urge to sleep. Losing blood and the soon rising sun left her far too weakened to fight to keep her eyes opened. She just needed a minute and she would be fine, just a few fleeting seconds and she could open her eyes. She wanted to believe it, she wanted to believe she could make it through the day if she just lay still, if she slept but somewhere inside she knew she was fooling herself.

They would find her, whomever it was that lurked above, and in her state she was nothing to fear. If they came to claim her life she was an easy target. Her mind faded into blackness with that thought in mind. Over a thousand years of life and finally it might be coming to an end.

Do not sleep. Open your eyes. A male voice unfiltered her mind. To sleep is death. Blood is life.

His voice was commanding and despite the lack of energy she obeyed. Hazy brown eyes stared upon his face, it was familiar but with her fogged mind he could have just been an image from a dream. She could barely feel his hand on her face as a reflexive fear built in her stomach trying to rip her in two. What did he want? Why had he not attacked her? She was vulnerable most would have, why hadn’t he?

Her mind was too confused and weak to think further, to wonder about his actions. She needed blood and as his wrist came to her lips she did not hesitate, the desire to live outweighing any other emotion. Her fangs grew long and sank into the soft flesh of his wrist spilling his blood into her mouth. She closed her eyes at the taste her body knowing it was what she needed. She drank of him, a thing she had not done to another immortal since Armand. He trusted her to drink and stop, but did she know when that was? Her aching body cried for his blood, it was not like mortal blood with its sweetness; no it was entirely different, hot and rich. Her hand rose slowly to hold his wrist to her.

She drank and drank as the sun rose; she could feel her wounds tingle the beginnings of healing. She had stopped loosing blood, all that remained was to replenish herself. She would need more, more blood to fully heal them but for now the sun was draining her. She wanted to sleep but was torn between its pull and the desire for the taste of vampiric blood, truly of any blood.

Her hand slipped from his hand and she looked at him for a moment, her eyes meeting the blue of his and then her head fell as sleep took her, a trickle of his blood rolling down her chin.

She slept; a sleep filled with the same dreams that had haunted her all her life. She could not escape him though he had been dead for so long, her former master. In her dreams he still controlled her, in her dreams she still felt the crack of his whip and the scent of his foul breath against her skin. Her mind rioted with memories though her body was still, still and cold as death.

When her eyes opened again the sun was gone, she could not feel its draining pull on her. She stared at the ceiling above her, wondering how she could still be there. She tried to move, but found she was still too weak. She would stay still and try again soon. She need to feed, the thirst was growing by the moment.

Sergei quickly closed his eyes against the sensation as her fangs sunk into his flesh. Like most vampires, for him the sensation was not completely unpleasant and yet he turned his thoughts from the sensation, opening his eyes and simply watching as she drank. Slowly but surely, his heart pumped his crimson ichor between her lips as likewise she drank deep, pulling bit by bit upon the wound.

Sergei felt her shift in strength then and then felt it as her fingers came up to grasp his arm, holding him fast to her as she continued to swallow his life. It had been a while since Sergei had shared his blood; indeed the last had been to someone he had likewise hoped to help and like now he’d simply let her drink. When it became too much, he needn’t trust her to stop, instead he could simply put her to sleep. And yet in the end that was hardly needed for even as Sergei prepared to tell her to stop, she did, their eyes meeting for a moment in between. And without the sensation of her taking his blood, the force of the sun fell full force on his shoulders and he could only manage to watch a few moments before she was asleep and he followed moments later into oblivion as he lay flat.

For Sergei his day’s rest was hardly rest. He didn’t dream, truly, but more than that he seemed to cease to exist. If a mortal had come across him he would have been proclaimed a body and why not, that was exactly what he would be until the sun reached the horizon and collapsed once again. He was just a corpse until night fall.

When life filled him once again, Sergei coughed as he forced his hands underneath his body to push his face up from the ground to glance around the darkness. For a moment he simply was, no memory of who and where he was, then like a magic spell breaking everything came flooding back and his eyes fell on the woman once more.

“How are you?” He found his voice asking, before the words had registered in his mind.

She laid still the silence of the night a comfort. She had made it through the day but she was weak, weaker than she could ever remember being since her change. Her skin was pale, and her body still ached. She had healed but only enough to stop her bleeding, but her bones still needed to mend and for that she would need to feed.

Her chest rose and fell in steady rhythm as she tried to recall what had happened. She remembered the other vampire, his cockiness and his attack. She could remember the pain of the wounds he inflicted and finally the sight of his body splayed on the ground beside her. She remembered walking, trying to make it back to her hotel and knowing she couldn’t. She remembered the stench of rats, mould and filth and then the fall. Afterwards things became hazy.

She closed her eyes trying to clear her mind and bring everything back into one cohesive picture. She was sure she had heard someone, felt a presence…an immortal one.

Her eyes shot open even as he spoke to her, a panic taking hold in her chest. She suppressed the feeling less he should feel it. She looked at his face, her’s remained still and expressionless. She didn’t want trouble; she was in no position to handle it if it came, so she played polite not wanting to anger him into finishing her off.

“I need to feed,” she said softly, the tone of her voice a surprise to her with its weakness. She held her side and attempted to sit up using the wall to assist her. She propped herself against it, looking at the blonde. “I know you,” she said softly his face coming back to her. He’d been there at the gallery, she could remember now. So she hadn’t been dreaming when she thought him familiar.

“I’m fine now,” she lied and attempted to cover up a grimace of pain, but the slight wrinkling of her brow gave it away. She looked down at her torso, her shirt was ripped to shred and her stomach was showing. She could still see the scars of his nails, the healing of her skin was not complete either it seemed. Then she remembered something; he had given her blood, his blood. She looked at him with suspicious and wary eyes.

“You helped me…why?” she asked her confusion sincere. Why had he helped her? She was not a member of whatever coven he may or may not belong to, for she knew there were several in Demaitre but had no association with them to determine their members. They were not friends for Faith had none, so that ruled out any reason for him to help her, so why had he? Suspicion even of kindness was etched into her, and worse because it was kindness. An act to harm her she expected, she expected it of everyone but never kindness. The good always aroused her distrust perhaps because she knew so little of it.

“Needing to feed and being fine are not one and the same, miss.” Sergei heard his voice react to the woman. There was a strange tiredness to it, a wary quality, and one Sergei understood immediately. After all he’d known even as she drank, he just hadn’t been able to fully deny her what he hoped would save her life. And while his senses told him that she would not die now, his eyes told him the ugly truth of her condition.

She needed to feed and feed quite a bit. More than a single donor could provide safely, perhaps even more than two and likewise he was tired, could feel the stir of need that marked his own thirst and it seemed to take surprising amounts of will power simply to keep his eyes open, let alone his voice working.

“Yes, you do know me.” He confirmed tiredly, his smile only slightly more vivid than his voice. “Sergei. My name. I didn’t recognize you…I saw you at the art gallery on the arm of that rather unpleasant mortal.”

His laugh was soft then, soft but no less the presence it always was. A rumble deep in his belly, the kind of laugh that once upon a time had filled mead halls with a melody that blended with a chorus of similar sounds. Sergei was a Norseman through and through, if his hair, eyes, and height didn’t declare so, most assuredly his laugh did.

The laugh rolled on as Sergei met the other’s suspicious gaze. He knew she had no reason to trust him and well and truly if he were in her shoe perhaps he would have felt the same. But Sergei had walked the path he walked now too long to be uncivil or to ignore those who needed his help. And he replied simply.

“Why wouldn’t I help you? You were in trouble, aye in truth you were dying. Why would I leave you to perish if I could help? I am Amman and I could hardly call myself such if I turned my back on one of our kind…more than that I could hardly call myself a man if I did nothing .”

That was it for Sergei, it was his duty to help, but more than that it was his pleasure. He was glad to help her, no matter what she might be, she was alive and Sergei’s people had always respected life, even if they must take it or have it taken.

She did no response to his remark at first knowing that what he spoke was true. If she needed to feed she wasn’t all right, and she scolded herself from the slip. She hadn’t thought of her first answer when she spoke, it had come from her mouth before her mind had chance to process it. “Needing to feed doesn’t mean I am not fine either. After all you have to feed from time to time,” she said calmly her eyes unshaken despite it all. She was lying again, but lies were necessary sometimes though she hardly needed to use them.

Her nose wrinkled with pain as she tried to adjust herself to a more comfortable position, at least for appearance sake. If this vampire was to believe she was truly fine she would need to look the part.

Her eyes went to his as he confirmed she knew him, but she said nothing. Faith wasn’t particularly talkative when not in a position to freely speak her mind without fear. She could see it in his face, the signs of fatigue and knew he needed to feed as much as she did, though she needed it more desperately. She could feel the stick of her broken bones in her side at the slightest movement. She had to feed soon, she had to get herself back to the hotel where she could regroup and continue her façade with the mortal Gianni.

She nodded her head slightly as he gave his name, Sergei. She hesitated to give her name then provided it. “Faith.” Her spoke of Gianni and the slightest hint of a smile tried to form at the corner of her mouth but failed. He was an unpleasant mortal, but was it his mortality that made him unpleasant or his sex? Gianni was in always a possessive mortal who thought himself a god amongst others, and with his new trophy girlfriend he was to be envied even more. “He serves his purpose,” she commented to Sergei but did not explain. Gianni served as financing, to live in the way she liked she could not kill to do so. She would need to take the lives of many for that, and if she attempted it with one of Demaitre’s elite she was sure to have all of the city raining down on her head. Gianni worked…for now.

He laughed. Faith continued to look at him quizzically. His laugh was strange, no malice within it to reveal true intention. It was almost like a real laugh one of amusement. She heard laughs like his before, but always from a safe distance.

He attempted to explain his reasons for helping her, reasons she did not understand. Her eyes left his face as he told her what she had known the moment she fell to the floor where they were now seated. She was dying that morning; she was as close to death as she had come to in over a thousand years. He made no sense, to help for no gain…she did not understand.

All her life it had been you give to get, or it was taken from you. Her master had fed her, clothed her and housed her, but for it he thought he had the right to her both in service and to fulfill his carnal desires. Even her Armand had been the same. He had turned her not to save her from certain death and a life worse than death, but to fulfill his need to not be alone for all the days that remained in his immortal walk. What he had wanted was easier to give, he wanted her love, and though it took years of travels together, she did love him in the end. He never took from her or forced anything from her, he accepted she would never allow him touch her, as long as she loved him he was content. She could never understand that desire then, but she understood more clearly now.

“I don’t understand. What do you want?” she asked pointedly, her suspicion far from dispelled. “Men have done worse than to let another die,” she retorted coldly and immediately knew that harsh words were not wise. She would have to curb her fiery tongue for now.

Sergei couldn’t help the gentle smile that came to his lips.

“Actually, dear lady, to me that is exactly what it means…”

He looked at her carefully, he meant no offense with his words, in fact he was simply talking of his own personal experience and yet as always he was attentive, at the ready. One never knew with others. Sergei would never want something said in jest taken seriously and yet over his life he’d learned that some seemed to be offended by words, sometimes for words own sake. It didn’t make sense, but that hardly stopped if from being so.

“I can speak for no one but myself,” He said then, making it clear that this was his opinion. “But when I have not fed I am far from fine. The hunger can burn hot, even in old veins and like all our kind we must eventually heed its call. I’m the need’s master, but indeed it is a troubling subject.”

Then almost as if summoned by the man’s words, Sergei felt a pang of “the need” race through him. He had given more than he’d intended to save this woman; his body wasn’t above berating him for such. Sergei indeed did need to feed himself, but that need would wait until he was sure she too could manage, safely he added to his mental promise.

At her name then, he nodded.

“I’m glad to once again make your acquaintance Faith. I would simply that it have been under better circumstances.”

That of course put another pang in him. There was nothing in this place and his body wanted something, it wanted life or at least the carrier there of. Sergei had to force his mind away from the subject and yet he nodded as she spoke again, replying to his words.

“I’ll bet he does.” Was his own simple reply, he left it at that. It was easy to see that the mortal was a point she didn’t and wouldn’t discuss and Sergei very much needed her to talk if he was to be sure of her and feel good about leaving in search of blood. Perhaps even for the both of them if such was necessary.

What came next however was a line of questioning that simply confused Sergei to no end.

“What do I want?” He repeated.

His gaze was clearly confused at the sudden suspension and even the question itself.

“What could I want? I’ve all I’ll ever need…I saw my duty and I completed it. Then I saw you dying and…”

Her next words stopped him short and he nodded in agreement.

“Indeed they have and continued to do so. That’s why it is the real man that can be more than his fellows, that he can have honor and honor others.”

He looked at her then, a wry smile.

“If you don’t mind my asking, you’re not very fond of my gender then?” He asked, quickly following it with. “And how are you feeling?”

She looked at Sergei with cool eyes. Yes, she was not fine; far from but admitting that was like trying to swallow razors to her.

She said nothing as he spoke, his words settling in her mind but not offending or provoking her. She was not to easily offended, though certain topics did arouse her anger and hatred. However, feeding was not one of them. Besides, what use would it to be offended? He was in a position of power, of control, since he was more than able to crush her if he wished. What she found interesting was that he didn’t seem interested in that.

She nodded her head slightly as he stated that his words only applied to himself. He was right, the need to feed was crippling if denied as she was well aware, it made you weak and susceptible to anything. She had long learned to control her need to feed, to be able to go for days if she absolutely had to. Now however, the need was strong because she needed to heal as well as sustain herself. “It can be,” she said steadily as he spoke of the need she now felt.

Deep inside her the hunger built to an ache. She took a deep breathe, clear and long through her nose to camouflage her pain as much as she could. Stubborn she was, and unyielding when she was determined to be, and she was determined now to not appear weak.

She looked at him but did not share the same polite response as Sergei. “Yes,” she replied simply. She was not sure if this was a situation to derive pleasure from as she still did not trust Sergei, and she was perplexed by his uncanny civility. He was perplexing her, and being of a curious nature, she wanted to ease her mind by finding logic to his actions, something she could understand. So far, he had provided her with none.

The conflict in her mind between the need and the strange behaviour of Sergei was tearing away at her. She had to subdue her need to feed till he was gone. But the pangs were so strong she could stand it. It was taking all he strength to keep it at bay.

She ignored further discussion of Gianni, he did not interest her further than what she could do through him. That was all and nothing more need be said. Sergei seemed to understand and did not question her further.

“Yes. What do you want?” she repeated after him. She had spoken clearly, was her question so unusual that he need repeat it? Apparently yes, his eyes said it all. She did not understand why.

His words awakened something inside her as he spoke of finding her dying and of his duty. What duty had he to anyone but himself? She waited for him to continue, to say why he had helped but he did not. Again, she found this curious. Was he deliberating trying to confuse her?

“Honour?” she repeated calmly. “Then I have known few real men.” She stated with the same calm. Save one, she had known one.

He smiled, wry and curious to her. His question stunned her with its bluntness, and her jaw clenched. He quickly moved to another question, inquiring to her health. “I told you…I’m fine,” she again refused to relent her previous answer. “And yes,” she continued to answer him. “Yes. I am not fond of your gender.” Her eyes were cold and emotionless, hiding the truth behind them, the truth of her distrust and fear.

Sergei nodded then as if confirming sneaking suspicion and yet clearly he was hardly surprised at the admission. If anything he would have perhaps been surprised had that not been the case. In which case it would simply have been him and that Sergei would have worried over, wondering what he’d done to earn such specific rage and distrust, but general rage, general distrust, these were things he could more easily understand, after all he and Faith did live in the same world. Perhaps if anything it was only their visions of this world that differed.

Still smiling, Sergei shook his head to the negative.

“You are not fine. None among us takes such injuries and is simply fine with pallor such as yours.” Normally Sergei might have touched her, lifted her chin to get a better look at the coloring of her skin, but her earlier admission stopped any such familiarity, even if simply physical.

Sergei could hardly understand what went on in the woman’s head, but he was wise enough to know that only a few things drew horror or rage from a woman simply at the sight of a man and that he’d been responsible for a few long, long ago, ah well that too bucked at his continuance and he sighed as he said easily.

“Like me, you need to feed. You hide it well, but there are things of your body that you can’t control, that give it away.” He explained.

“And while I know nothing of the men you’ve met, let me say this.”

His gaze locked on hers then, his voice suddenly much more serious than it had been before.

“There was a time when a man would turn his face from the gods themselves rather than turn his back on his honor. I am from such a time, such a people, and you have my vow upon the spear of Odin-one eye himself that I shall not harm you. I am not your enemy, and even as I speak hunger burns through me. I don’t have the energy to fight with you, to pretend that we are both fine…so I ask again, how are you? Can you move? Stand? Walk? I ask, because blood is needed and one way we can go together, or the other I can go alone. But I shall not leave you until I’m sure that you have recovered, is that understandable?”

No her feelings were not localised to him, but to all men, to all people human and vampire alike. She did not know how to trust. Even with Armand, though she loved him once, she did not know if she ever truly trusted him. She was always aware that one day he could snap her neck like a twig and find another to take her place, despite his words of love. He’d had honour, he had sworn never to touch her and he never did. He was only man she had ever known who held such a trait.

Sergei was not fooled by her attempts to assure him she was fine when she wasn’t, and he confronted her on it. She looked away as he spoke of her appearance, as if trying to hide the paleness in her cheeks from his view. There was no need; her entire body showed her weakness, from its colour to its coldness, her skin spoke against her words.

She closed her eyes against another pang of hunger deep inside her. “Yes. I need to feed,” she admitted, turning towards him slowly. She had given up; her pretence had not fooled him as he saw through it. She could admit that.

The men she’d met. She’d met many and all were the same. They looked with eyes that saw only flesh and what they could take. She had been undressed by eyes more times than she could count and subjected to their desires, where her protests were stifled and her cries meant nothing. Not all men had hurt her, she knew this, but she also saw in so many eyes what she had seen in Diya al din, the look of a hungry wolf with fresh meat in its sights.

As she looked into Sergei’s she expected the same.

She searched for it as he spoke, that glimmer, that spark that always appeared whether they intended it to or not but she didn’t find it. The blue pools of his eyes seemed clear and honest as he made his vow to a name that obviously held importance to him, but nothing to her. She could see no lie in them.

He repeated his question and with her eyes still searching the depth of his she answered, “I am not fine.” Her words were shaky, her own admittance unsettling to her. “I cannot hunt. My bones are broken,” she said moving her hand over her ribs, “and I fear I may still be bleeding inside.” She took deep painful, jagged breaths.

He would have no idea what it took from her to say those words, to admit to him that she could not fend for herself. It was pain to her ears to utter them. Another might have told him yes, she need him to help her, but this was Faith, she could not do that. She lowered her eyes from his and stared at the blood pool on the ground, thick and dry. “You will have to go alone.”

“Done,” Sergei said simply, pragmatically.

“I’ll go alone, but shall return soon. I’m not sure what or rather whom I can find…”

That caused the Norseman to pause for a moment in his statement, he truly could not simply talk about mortals as if they were simply nourishment and yet he had no idea on Faith’s out look on such things. After all they had barely shared a conversation and even now Sergei could pick out of her voice the difficulty inherent in something so simple as confessing weakness was almost too much for her. Indeed Sergei had to admit that this was difficult, so much more difficult than most of the interaction he was used to, among mortal or immortal.

Sergei was used to being trusted or if not trusted, at least given a shadow of a doubt. That wasn’t to say that Faith was such an oddity in this world, simply that hers was a personality he was unaccustomed to and yet Sergei reminded himself that that was a hang up he hardly had the luxury to afford. Indeed they must both do what they could and he sighed as he continued on.

“Faith, I am not sure what blood source I can find. And I know even less of you and your preferences. However the easiest prey in this neighborhood, this city truly would be streetwalkers of one variety or another. But you are fiercely injured, in your current condition you might even take life to be healed…will you, will you promise me to do as I tell you and not take life from those I bring here? I have no hostility toward mortals and I will not have their blood on my hands…”

His ambiguous blue eyes, so like the torch’s core or the ocean’s depths, focused on her then, carefully.

“Please. I’ll go, but you must take from me first when I return. Then, I’ll have more to give and I’ll not be done in so easily as a mortal.”

Even as he said that, Sergei realized how much he truly didn’t understand or even know about this woman. He wanted to help her, but he was not willing to kill for her, at least not the innocent.

She nodded her head. He would go. She would have to stay there, in this dank abysmal place, but she could live with that if she had to.

Whom he could find? She didn’t care. She just needed blood and quickly. “It doesn’t matter,” she replied weakly. Faith cared little for humans, not that she found them nothing more than chattel, but she preferred not think on them at all. She needed their blood to survive that was all. She killed countless humans over the years, but not all. She had spared lives from time to time, when something familiar struck her. She could remember feeding of a girl who looked like someone from her childhood, it made her stop. Faith preferred not to think of her former humanity, it was easier to accept what she had to do to live that way. However, to be honest she killed more than she let live, sometimes exacting her vengeance on the innocent for past crimes done to her. It was cruel and heartless she knew, but she had turned her heart to stone long ago. To feel anything was too painful.

She looked at him with weak surprise and questioning. He wanted her not to kill them? he wanted her to promise such a thing when the thirst inside her was screaming to be quenched? She stared silently but not for long. “Yes. I promise to do as you ask.” Again the words burned her lips and tongue to utter, to promise something to this stranger who had saved her life. “I will not bring you guilt,” she said calmly. She would do her best to restrain herself, but he of all people knew, as he had admitted, that the thirst was a troublesome subject to control.

She could not take his eyes on her. To be under his gaze was the depths of scrutiny itself, but her eyes met his as he asked her to feed from him before he would allow her mortal blood. He would allow her to feed from him again? This perplexed her further. Was he trying to show her how humane he was, to give of himself first before any mortal? She wanted to question him, but both their thirsts need to be quenched, and she could hardly stand it any longer. Her questions would have to wait.

He was an oddity to her. Strange in his actions and thinking, his kindness so genuine that it seemed alien. Yet she was suspicious. She was accepting his help, one of a man whom she knew nothing of other than he had felt obligated to help her. She still did not understand why.

She nodded her head in answer. She would drink of him again if those were his conditions.

Little by little he was proving to be a bigger mystery than he had been the second before. She had to understand this, to prove what she knew to be right. She could not admit that perhaps after all the centuries of her life, that she might have found someone to disprove what she knew of men. It could not be. She knew what she knew, she had her proof and yet, Sergei seemed to contradict it.

This was too much, she need to rest. She closed her eyes again and slowly drifted into a still sleep, her mind blank.

Sergei nodded at her acceptance and while his expression was firm, it slowly softened around the edges as he turned to get his bearing in this place that he’d reluctantly been forced to stay the day. It was an abandoned warehouse of some kind, just as he’d thought, however he couldn’t detect any sparks of life, even rats foraging. It was probably this more than anything else that made him decided to simply leave her. And yet turning back, his expression soothed into a gentle smile as he watched Faith’s eyes close and she fell into a decidedly mortal slumber.

Rest then. He thought to himself.

Then he took only a few moments to brush the grime and dirt of the floor from his attire as he began a hurried though decidedly silent trek up the stairs. His foots steps were near soundless, soft as not to awaken a sleeper and yet quick as to reach the streets. When finally Sergei breached the back door, his keen eyes squinted against the sudden a over abundance of light on the streets. For a long moment everything held an eerie quality, the whole world seemed to glow with an after image or visual echo and while Sergei could hardly experience nausea, he did close his eyes against the light flooding his dark accustomed senses.

All of this took less than a moment and then Sergei’s ambiguous blue eyes opened once more and he opened his senses wide as he did only when on the hunt. His mind unfurled like a blossom in spring, ever expanding like a net until finally his consciousness touched upon others.

There were three minds. Not so far away and almost immediately Sergei began walking, fixing his attire as best he could even as he did. Walking three blocks took no time at all, he could have run in much less time, but Sergei had long learned that it was better to save use of immoral speed and strength to when they were absolutely necessary. Recklessness was a luxury, one that nearly none could afford, especially one such as he. Moving with an uncanny grace however Sergei turned to walk down the street, subtly paying the ally to his left no mind.

Then just as he’d hoped, a trio of female voices.

“Hey richman, wanna party?”

Sergei made his pause careful, nervous, and when he looked his eyes were carefully withdrawn, but he nodded. And there was a chorus of laughs for his trouble.

The three women were all in various stages or styles of dress or undress, the one that had spoke was blond, not the same shade or fashion that Sergei was used to with his own hair, but a darker color, like grain with touches of earth or wooden brown. She tall and lean, about three or four inches Sergei’s inferior and her eyes were the most striking of her features, ice blue, like a frozen fjord, though her yellow leather dress begged attention other places.

With her was a beautiful dark skinned woman with sharp features, whose heritage wasn’t easily forth coming, even in the vampire’s aged experience. He hair was like black silk, and her eyes a lovely brown, but like the first woman her dress wanted attention elsewhere. She wore something akin to shorts, tight and short, he upper body covered by a series of straps that reminded Sergei of what had once held good armor together, but this was thin and apparently only for show of a large bust and lithe form. This woman was silent, she simply laughed with her “sisters” though she managed to blow a kiss the Norseman’s way when she noticed him studying her.

The last of the triumptive was a small and decidedly childish woman. Sergei would have thought her a child if not for the sharp and predatory look in her eye; it sat side by side with a quiet desperation. In fact the second was a look that they all had. This woman’s hair was somewhere between blond and red or at least the red that mortals possessed, more akin to orange instead of the scarlet it became with enough time without sunlight as immortals could attest.

This woman wore pink, shorts and a top that like the other women brought attention to her form more than anything else. Still her eyes were a hard steel grey that faded into blue about their edges, before bags under the eye that spoke of too little rest. Her arms and legs were bare of cloth, but her arms decidedly not bare of the marks Sergei had come to understand to mark drug users.

“So now that you’ve looked at the goods, which one of us ya want?” The blond woman asked, obviously having noticed Sergei’s attentions.

“All of you.” The vampire replied simply then.

This got another trio of laughs.

“A little ambitious ain’t ya?” The dark skinned woman asked, flipping dark silk over her shoulder.

This made the smaller woman laugh, but she still managed to slink forward and wrap an arm about the much bigger man’s waist.

“Come on big fella, I’m more than enough for you. You don’t need these bitches.”

That brought a frown from the other women.

“Excuse us?” The dark woman said.

“Business is business.” The small woman replied, brightly, clinging more tightly.

“I want you all.” Sergei repeated, this time with a hint of seduction in his voice. A part of him hated that lie. Ah and yet such was as the woman had said, ‘business was business’.

“I’ll pay you all well.” The man added. “Simply follow me.”

And as an incentive he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. As CEO of Drago technologies it wasn’t much for him to hand each of them a hundred dollars and walk away.

“If you’ll follow me ladies.” He said politely. There was no reason not to be polite and as he walked, he knew they’d follow.

Sergei could have controlled them all at any given moment, but again recklessness, and also he truly never wanted to control mortals in any shape or fashion. And the hunger in his belly did nothing to change this.

As they reached the warehouse, all of the women suddenly stopped.

“What’s with this place?” The dark skinned woman asked.

“I’ve a friend, a woman” Sergei added that last, knowing that the question would come up as well. “She would like your services as well, and enjoys the…urban feel of this place.”

That seemed to make the women laugh; whispering something about rich people playing poor, but Sergei was glad that it didn’t take much more to convince the women onward and down the stairs. It was only then that he clouded their minds, taking the small woman in his arms, he bit into her flesh softly and carefully, drinking or rather sucking before he’d even completely broke the flesh.

He was so hungry, the need was like a fire in his veins, a slow and constant ache and yet after that initial desperation, he staved off the hunger, let the mortal’s heart pump the blood into him, careful of how his arms now clenched at her fragile body. An immortal could crush a mortal in their arms if not careful. And when Sergei knew it would be unsafe to give more, one of his fangs slit his own lip and a kiss pressed the blood into the small wounds he’d made, sealing them as he gently set to woman on her back. Sergei had controlled himself, she was fine, would live and that added to the pleasure that strummed through him with her blood.

The other moved toward Faith then, kneeling, he offered his wrist.

“Enough to take the edge off you hunger, and then the other two are yours.” He whispered, gesturing briefly toward the two women standing silently, his mind have captured theirs.

She slept a sleep much akin to death but only for a short time, the hunger inside of her would not relent and woke her minutes after her eyes had closed. She groaned in pain as she tried to move again, the feeling of ribs pressing against lungs a most unpleasant feeling. If she had been mortal she would have cried, but she was used to pain of some form, pain much greater than this. All the same it did force grimace after grimace on her face.

Her senses were awake now, alive and alert to all the sounds around her. She could hear rats scurrying around the building, chasing after food and she could even hear the sound of the sewer running beneath her. This place was disgusting, but she was glad to have found it though of facing the sun was not an experience she wanted to have. This warehouse, dank and filthy as it was, would be her shelter for just a little while longer, till she was strong enough to get home.

She knew she would have to come up with a story, Gianni being the man he was would have tried to find her at some point during the day. Male jealousy, it amused her. Gianni was no so much jealous as he was possessive, he saw Faith as a prize, something that was not to be shared with any other man, especially when he had yet to sample her. She knew it was only a matter of time before he would bring it up again and something would have to be done. She already had it planned, a way to give him what he wanted, while never letting him touch her.

She closed her eyes again, not to sleep but just to focus her mind on healing and the storm of want in her veins. Calm enveloped her senses, peaceful silence and then she sensed him and three others approaching. Her eyes opened red and wanting even as her fangs grew in her mouth.

She watched them descend the stair, the large blonde male that was Sergei and three women, all of whom gave their profession away in their dress. Faith had no prejudice against these women; they did what they had to in order to survive. She knew that feeling.

As she watched Sergei feed the fire in her veins and stomach doubled, she need the taste, the sweet taste of blood. Her every cell cried out for it. She had to be calm, she had made a promise not to kill anyone he brought her, she would have to control the thirst less she run mad with it. It would obey her and not she it.

He set his victim down and then came to her, kneeling with an offer of his wrist. She looked at the remaining women, hers by his offer, and then took his wrist to her mouth without question, clasping her hand to his and bringing it to her lips in one smooth motion. Sharp fangs punctured skin and veins and filled her senses with delight as blood flowed into her mouth. His blood tasted differently now, the taste of the woman mingled with his own like a sweet and spicy marinade.

As she drank she could feel the marks on her skin disappear under her fingertips leaving nothing but smooth unblemished flesh, now slightly warm to the touch. She drank enough to curb the ranging desire of the thirst before releasing his hand and licking the blood from her lips. Her eyes met his for a second before she attempted to stand. Some of her strength had returned, and though still painful she managed to reach her feet.

She looked at the first woman, dark and buxom, she would be first. She walked towards her slowly, pain in every step, but her victim did not run or scream, Sergei had clouded their mind and they knew nothing. She held her face gently in her hand and led her around till she back Sergei, then with a quick glance at the vampire she sank her fangs into the woman’s throat and drinking the sweet nectar from her veins. Her eyes closed as her senses delved into the sweet syrup of her blood, she held her close but gently to prevent her from falling.

She could feel it now, the eager workings of healing, the tingle inside as ripped muscle mended and sinew reattached, where veins recovered and pumped fresh blood through her. With every second she felt her strength return and she wanted more. She opened her eyes and met Sergei’s and as she promised, she stopped. She cut her lip with her fangs and let the blood drip into the wounds healing them before she licked it clean. She set her down gently; she would be fine and live to make her living.

She moved to the second and in very much the same way she drank from her, cradling her like the child Faith would never have before sealing her wounds and laying her next to her co-workers. Her muscles rippled beneath the skin as they healed the broken bones, one by one she could feel the sensation of cracking and mending and she bore it all with hardly a sound. She stood to her full height, no longer needing to ease broken bones, and walked towards Sergei, still dwarfed compared to him.

Crimson eyes met his, still perplexed and questioning. “I did what you asked. I did not kill them,” she stated frankly. “Tell me why did you care so much if they lived or died?” The life of others seemed so trivial these days, that she was surprised to find he cared.

Sergei almost closed his eyes against the sudden sting and yet as always it was not completely unpleasant. Like before his eye held tight against the sensation and like before he simply let it work its course until finally it was gone. This time it was but a fraction of what it had been and yet even so Sergei could almost feel the edge of the other’s hunger.

Then as if he’d simply been imagining them, the sensations were gone. And his eyes slid open to meet the sight of the other licking her lips clean of his blood, something that heralded a single moment of simple and hollow silence as their eyes met. From that contact alone, Sergei realized he’d been right to give her his own blood before that of a much frailer mortal and his attention wandered and stayed with the woman as she began to feed from the others.

His mind immediately focusing on them, Sergei willed the others numb and unseeing. It was not something the Norseman forced upon them lightly and perhaps something that could have been avoided under different circumstances. But things were as they were and so instead he focused on the mortals making things go as easy for them as possible.

The dark woman’s back was to him and Sergei watched patiently as Faith drank from her, he hadn’t failed to notice her look toward him before feeding. Sergei was unsure of its meaning to be sure, perhaps more suspicion of his kindness, but he went out of his way to not notice until he watched faith disengage from the woman’s throat, most quickly sealing her wounds afterward. Sergei didn’t have to check to see if she’d kept her promise, after all he’d had no doubt that she would, but when it was done he was glad.

The Norseman watched then as the woman approached him and his expression was decidedly stoic as he nodded in reply.

“Yes, you did.” He said equally frank, though adding the last reluctantly. “Thank you.”

At her question however, Sergei wasn’t immediately sure how to answer, after all it was not a question he got readily. Then thinking he said.

“It matters to me, because they are but innocent mortals. They’ve done nothing to be slain for, they are not my enemies, and they’ve as much right to live as you or I.”

That said, he added his own question.

“Are you not fine without their lives being forfeit? Why would we kill when it is hardly necessary?”

He was a conundrum to her, a mystery she could not piece together. It annoyed her somewhat, the fact that she could not find his angle, his true reasons for doing what he had. He had to be getting something out of it, he had to be. It made no sense otherwise. People were not so kind or caring; in fact she had begun to believe that such traits were dead. People did things for reasons, for fame, publicity, so that you owed them some heavy price later. They did not do things out of the kindness of their hearts.

His face was expressionless as she approached him, a mask to hide truth she thought it.

Thanks? He had just thanked her? Faith laughed a fanged laugh. “Do not thank me. They are not out of here yet,” she teased, some of her boldness returning with her strength. She could hear the reluctance in his words, knew it was not easy for him to say, as difficult as it had been for her to admit she needed help. It made her feel somewhat better; his reluctance to thank her. At least she wasn’t the only one doing things they found unsettling.

Her question wasn’t answered immediate, though she didn’t doubt for a moment that it would go unanswered. His answer, however, stunned her slightly. “You claim them innocent, but how do you know?” she questioned. “Other mortals find them the dregs of earth, they look down their noses at them, and yet you hold them in high regard. Or is that all mortals?” She knew the answer to her question.

A strange sensation burned in her chest as he said they had to right to live as much as he did, as much as she did. Did they have the right to live? People did not feel that way of her, even before her turning. Her death would have been an easy thing to bring in their eyes, and she knew eventually it would have come one way or another. “Have you ever thought of it, what they would do if they knew we existed?” she asked looking Sergei in the eye. “I know what they would do. Would you still spare them then when they came for you, to take your life? Be sure they would not think that you or I deserved to live.”

She knew it was to be hunted by mortals, she had been there and watched as another lost his life for her. They showed no pity to him, they cared little that she had done what she had to in order to live. All they saw were monsters with fangs that needed to die.

She asked her question before answering his, leaving him time to think. She was determined to find something of the truth she knew in him, something that would show her he was like all the others. It had to be there, just well hidden that was all, and she would find it. her desire to find this trait in him was her desire to make sense of him.

She looked at the still bodies and her eyes returned to him. “Why wouldn’t we?” she responded to his question. “Did you never kill them? Did you never get lost in the hunt and the smell of fear on them as you closed in for the kill?” she asked slowly circling him. “Did you never feel the rush of their blood in your mouth as panic took them and their heart beat so loudly it was like drums in your ears? Did you ever go a little mad for it?” Her voice was soft, almost sultry as she spoke, her eyes never leaving him.

In truth, Faith felt no guilt for those she had killed, men most of them and a few women, but mostly men. She had no guilt for killing men who looked on her with eyes of greed and lust and possession. She felt no guilt from removing such men from the earth, those who would do anything for what they wanted no matter who it hurt. You could say she made it her business to align herself with such men for the purpose of purging them from society. Call it her therapy, to rid every place she could of men like her master. Yes, she would admit to killing those whom she could have let live, but she didn’t, she could not change that now, but she was not completely heartless, she had left a few alive. Her heart was just very difficult to find.

Sergei looked at Faith carefully, it was not a lascivious appraisal, but a slow and analytical look, one as if for the first time was the other immortal truly seeing her. Or perhaps he was simply so unsettled by her world view, whatever the case, his expression melted slightly, like the old fjords just before the spring thaw. And he shook his head softly.

“I’m sorry.” He said simply for a moment, his voice almost a whisper and his eyes meeting her gaze. “I am sorry that the world, that the people in it have treated you so harshly. And how I know is that look in your eyes…I’ve seen it before, caused it in my time. And for that I am sorry.”

The man’s features softened more than as he pondered all she’d said to him, he’d fallen silent, with nothing occupying his thoughts but her words, well them and the soothing presence he made within the three mortal minds.

Then when finally he answered, it was with a question.

“How old are you Faith?”

And before she could answer, he continued on. It had been more a rhetorical question at any rate, Sergei sought not to anger his companion, but he was not above honing his point to a fine edge.

“I am as far as I can figure, about one thousand-two hundred- and twenty six years old, Faith. In all of that time I’ve worn many guises and not all of them striking and noble. And if there is anything that life has taught me, then it is that societies create their own dregs, and looking down upon them is a pompous pastime indulged by those weak of mind and strong of wealth. These women are as innocent as any of the rest of humanity, as we are selves are. We make our choices, with what we are given and that is simply the end of that. But if it must be more, then I hold humanity in high esteem in all its guises, even the one that we ourselves wear.”

His expression hardened then as he continued.

“Before you feel the need to be indignant,” He began. “Perhaps it would do to remember that some of us are monsters with fangs and claws…and some of us were monsters before we ever had them.”

There was a slight edge of disgust to that last, but it wasn’t so easily pointed at others. Sergei had killed and killed many before he’d even known of blood drinkers, he’d been a warrior, a raider providing for his family, but none the less he’d destroyed so many lives. Such things are never made up for, but a blood stained past never dictates a blood stained future and he met her gaze again.

“If they came for me, I would seek to survive. But even then I’d hardly have to kill them to do such. I can do things that they never dreamed possible and yet even so if they do come, it will never be all mortals. There are those that would immediately label us monsters, I am not so naive to think otherwise, but there are also those that know of us, that even now do not simply hunt us. Not all mortals are the same.”

And he nodded to the last.

“I’ve killed. But that does not mean I must keep killing.”

Her returned her gaze, his eyes seeming to search her face as he did so. What was he looking for? His gaze was even more unsettling that those of a more lascivious nature, because those she was used to, those evoked her wrath, but this…this made her feel almost like a child. None had ever looked on her with such a gaze before, none but Armand and he only looked at her in that way when there was a lesson about to be taught, after forgetting that she did not know the things he did.

Sergei’s face softened and hers did as well as she watched him, but only in the slightest of ways. Why did he keep looking at her like that?

I’m sorry.

The words evoked shock inside her, shock and bewilderment. His eyes were hers and his voice was so soft that it was almost the tone shared amongst friends. Her ears recognized it though she could not say she had had any friends in recent times to share such moments with. Her eyes quivered in her head as she fought back the deepest emotion of sadness to strike her heart in all her life. Never had anyone apologized to her. Never.

Armand had turned her and made her his fledgling of hate, just like him. He taught her retribution, he taught her anger and he taught her how to exact her vengeance, but never to forgive. He did not find it necessary; he never asked her forgiveness for making her what she now was. She stopped thinking she needed to hear those words. The away they affected her however let her know, that she still need to despite what she had led herself to believe.

“You…” she began but her voice cracked and she had to start over. “You…have no idea.” As she felt the walls of her restraint begin to weaken she stepped back from him, her eyes finding the floor as she pulled herself together. No, she would not do this; she would not do this now.

He asked her age and she looked puzzled. What did her age have to do with anything? She would not find out. He was a few decades older than she, a fact she somehow had guessed before hand. She heard his words and they burned her ears. Try as she might, to picture him in any other light than the one she now saw him in, was almost impossible. She had wanted to prove him like the others she knew, but now that he was confessing to not always being the man he was now…she could not see it. She wanted to see it; she needed to see it…why was it trying to elude her? Why wouldn’t it give her what she wanted…a reason to hate him like everyone else? Try as she might, she did not hate him.

When he spoke again it was almost a scolding in nature and Faith held her tongue to hear it. She understood his words; she had met both monsters in her time and found them of equal evils. There was something in his words that made her feel there was more than just empty words trying to scold her, that there was some personal knowledge of the beast inside him.

If he had sought to scold her, then he could congratulate himself on a job well done. She felt as a child again. She did not wish to hear more, she did not like the feelings he brought out in her, she had longed tried to bury them and yet he brought them to the surface again. “That is noble of you,” she said softly her eyes leaving his. “I’m afraid we are not all so noble,” she admitted. “I cannot be more than I have always been.”

Her eyes went to his face once more, deep sadness in her eyes. She would never be more than the girl who had cried for her mother in the night and found the whip and fist for an answer. She would never be more than the animal he thought her to be, no matter how well she dressed herself to hide the truth. She bore the marks; even now she still carried the scars upon her back of her punishments. “Thank you for your help,” she said softly.

She took two more steps back, positioned herself below a hole in the ceiling above her head, and then jumped through. She landed like a cat on the floor above and then took off running, jumping through the window to the street below and into the night. His face, his eyes and words replayed in her head as she ran, her eyes beginning to sting as tears threatened to fall. She ran through the shadows and scaled the balconies of buildings to the roof and finally to the roof of her hotel.

She stooped at the corner hugging her knees, her crimson eyes looking down at the world beneath and the blood began to flow from them. The deluge was slow at first then faster as her body began to shake with sobs. She was so flawed… so very flawed.