Denial's Game

Hunting was a sport. It was barbaric uncivilized and retained all the elements of a classic sport. Some would never feel the joy he felt everyday while stalking countless victims, who were gullible enough to fall prey to his sadistic game.

Blair watched the school with anticipation, he knew today would be the day. It had to be the day. This denial game had raged on for 20 years. It had been 20 years since he had been turned. Blair had searched for the perfect female to accompany him, but they all had failed to meet his standards. Some were too weak and ran in the face of danger. A select few had made it halfway but turned into sniveling cowards when faced with a choice. He was done, today would be the day and he would give them no choices. Blair of the Midnight line of vampires was done with waiting.

After pondering his life and morals the final school bell rang. The oak tree upon which he perched bent slightly under his weight. He had a jacket lined with the deadliest torture implements known to man. Daggers, throwing stars and even a few nails if he was feeling frisky. He scanned the sea of females and males pouring out. Blair didn't want to label them, after all they were just pawns. But in the social sense the females were posers, Goths, preps and everything in between. One would think with this range of selection he would have found something. No dice.

He looked at them all in turn never missing one. Glimpses of flaxen hair and cotton t-shirts rolled into his vision. Vampiric vision was near perfect in light and day. When he was human he was blind, a fool staring into shadows endlessly and getting nothing in return. Blair stopped when he saw a girl, probably a sophomore. She had golden hair the color of a tiger's fur. Her eyes were a icy blue, inviting you to gaze into their depths only to be entwined and entranced. His breath quickened and his own heartbeat pounded into his ears. He slowly entered her mind. It was a gift of the midnight line to read thoughts and weave complex spells inside the psyche. He was surprised to find her defending herself, most humans rarely did. Blair was in no mood to play games so he ripped out the info he needed. Her name was Amber. Amber was Old French for strong-willed and sexy, it seemed perfect.

She looked around glancing in all directions, Amber had sensed him. He jumped out of the tree, oblivious to the humans. They were to engrossed in the latest gossip to worry about people they had never seen before. Even if these people happened to wear trench-coats. He stalked her patiently; any slip could reveal him since she was so alert. Blair was thankful she walked home, buses proved to be problematic at times.

She turned down a street he knew well, and decided he could wait no longer. Chances were she was approaching home. This particular neighborhood houses less than middle class families. A lot of the homes were abandoned, including one a few blocks away. As Amber neared it Blair calmly appeared in front of her. She stopped cold and stared. Regaining her sense of mind she turned around and started walking the other way. Blair wasn't going to give up that easily. He drew out his favorite anthame, it was a thick blade with a 6 inch blade. He blocked her path again palmed the dagger.

"Amber" the name rolled smoothly off his tongue. She flinched hearing her own name. He continued

"I want you to go into that house right there. If you don't I will make this the most hellish day of your life, and if you decide to run you'll only make it worse." He tossed the dagger casually and caught it.

Amber ran. Blair loved it when they ran.