Prologue

In this world, vampires roam the earth, lurking in the shadows, awaiting their next meal to stroll by. Though not many people know of them. You see, in order to maintain an abundant food supply for easy pickings, vampires have their own unwritten rules. One of which says, "Keep them ignorant of our existence unless you intend to kill them."

This is one rule she wished they had followed, and yet, happy they didn't.

Chapter One

“Hey, Kareen, baby! Give some sugar for your sugar, huh?”

The girl gave a smile to the drunk-off-his-ass usual that was more just a baring of teeth than anything else. “Not on your life, jag-off.”

The drunk laughed merrily, with the bright eyes and red cheeks of the totally inebriated. But he stumbled out of the double doors with his arm slung around another drunk, the two shouting their laughter for all in the night to hear.

Kareen shook her head as she checked over the floor and in the bathrooms for any lingering bodies. Everything was good to go, so she made her way back to the bar, placed the few loose bills she found littering the floor into the tip jar to the smiles of the two female bartenders, and gathered her jacket from the back room.

Kareen Ellis was the daughter of a second generation Russian-American woman who had landed in a troubled marriage with a second generation Mexican-American man. She was of average height at five-foot-six, with long hair that reached her waist and was kept pinned in a loose bun. It was as raven-black as her father's, her skin just as tanned as his. She had her mother's gorgeous ash-blue eyes, her slim and muscular body. Though Kareen acquired hers through exercise. She had an eye for trouble, a way with words, and a 4th degree black belt that didn't always mix too well with her short temper and lone-wolf attitude.

“See you tomorrow night, Kar,” her boss, Denise, called out as Kareen pushed through the front doors.

“Yo,” she said back in confirmation without turning back.

Her attitude was something Kareen was forced into over time, an inescapable development evolving from a life of chaos. When she was born, Kareen had the normal household as most children. She had her Russian-American mother who had strong ties with her heritage. The woman was a beauty, having auburn hair cascading down her back and bright blue eyes that showed such love for her daughter, her only child. Kareen's father was a tall Mexican-American man with inky black hair and assessing brown eyes.

But when she was old enough to understand, Kareen gradually discovered that the love between them was just a front. Something was happening behind her parents' bedroom door. Because when she was five, Kareen's mother woke her up one early morning, took her from their house, and moved the two of them to the other side of North America – as far away from her father as was possible without a passport.

For years, pain of loneliness etched her mother's eyes, though Kareen reassured her that she was never alone, that she had Kareen. Nevertheless, her mother decided to remarry two years after abandoning her husband. And the man she married was nowhere near the man Kareen had known her father to be. He was kind in the beginning, but she had learned to look deeper into things than just the emotions on the surface. When she looked at her mother, Kareen would see the deep bruises covered over by makeup. She would see her mother flinch every time Caleb, Kareen's stepfather, would call out to her, or merely touch her. Unfortunately, when her mother died of a heart condition some time later, Kareen found the full force of Caleb's true self. That included what was going on behind their bedroom door.

When Kareen's mother died, Caleb laid blame on that innocent young girl, and decided that she were a fit replacement for her mother. And it was hard for her to hold her own against a former pro kick-boxer. So, since her mother died, he'd beaten and raped Kareen, unintentionally teaching her never to trust anyone or care for anyone.

At current time, Kareen was eighteen years old and was a bouncer at the local night club. It was a perfect job in her eyes. She worked at night, which was her favorite time of the day, and she guessed to kick the ass of anyone who ticked her off. Entirely perfect.

After waving goodbye to her co-workers who were scattered along the front of the club, Kareen began walking straight home, as she did every night after work. The light summer breeze swayed her long hair as she took in the warm night, the common smells of stale beer, cigarette smoke and fuel exhaust lacing the air. As she thought back on her night and the four fights she had to break up – two of which ended with her breaking something on someone – Kareen didn't notice someone following closely behind.

Or at least that someone didn't think she noticed them.

Kareen continued along her usual course, turning the corner into a particular alleyway that she had used as a shortcut many times before. But this time, Kareen had other intentions for it than just as a quicker route home.

As she continued walking through the deserted alley, her eyes quickly adjusted that little bit more to the denser darkness. She could see just how narrow the area was and made a mental note of everything around her; the items littering the area, the location of the trashcans and dumpsters, anything she may be able to use as a weapon, and anything that the person following could use to their own advantage.

As she calculated, Kareen began hearing the echo of her stalker's footsteps as they made their way into the alley after her. Her mental calculations were like a default setting that had been drilled into her over a lifetime of justified cynicism. Based on the time difference between Kareen entering the alley and the footsteps, the speed that she was walking at, and the speed of the stranger's footsteps, Kareen could tell that the person was about five yards behind her and slowly gaining.

Her acute mind was even capable of analyzing a situation and determining the personality of a person through their actions – something she tended to do most often in Karate class. She knew that the person was confident because they followed her in the open at a fairly close distance without care if someone noticed. It had to be confidence because a person who was more ignorant than confident would have jumped the gun and attacked at the first chance, which was a few yards back. She knew that the person was pretty strong and that they knew some sort of fighting style because she could hear the discipline in their footsteps, the surety in the long pace of their steps. But Kareen also knew that there was something more to this person because she could feel that they were analyzing her as well. She could feel the heat of an intense gaze as it followed the movement of her body.

But that only made Kareen more interested.

They were near the center of the block-long alleyway when Kareen had decided that she finally gathered enough information about the person to be able to anticipate their actions.

When the sound of soft steps came just a little closer, Kareen stopped. As she anticipated, the footsteps stopped as well. When Kareen turned to see who it was, as she anticipated, no one was there; hidden behind one of the large Dumpsters. And once again, when Kareen turned back and began walking again, as she anticipated, she heard the footsteps resume.

The anticipation was building within her to the point that her body was humming with it. In order to get this person closer to her, Kareen quickened her pace. As she did so, sure enough, the stranger's steps quickened as well. She waited just a little longer until she had the person within striking distance.

Just as the person was about four feet behind her, Kareen quickly swung around, ready to hit something...only to find nothing there.

A frown pulled between her eyes. The body was just at her back, and there was nothing close enough to jump behind. She knew there was no way someone could have moved that fast for her not to notice it.

She stood there, puzzled, listening for any signs of the stranger. She heard nothing. Not a ruffle of clothing, not a heavy sigh, not any of the tiny fidgeting sounds the people tend to overlook. Kareen rubbed at her forehead, thinking perhaps she was just off her game. It was nearing one in the morning, and she hadn’t had a good night’s sleep for the past three days. Her stepfather had been hitting the bars lately only to come home and hit other things in drunken rages. She had been cleaning up shattered glass from the floors, and scrapes and bruises from herself, and the weight of it all was weighing down on her.

“Damn it,” she muttered into the empty darkness.

She turned back around, deciding to carry on her way, but as she lifted her eyes the only thing she saw was the back of a hand flying at her. It was too quick, too strong, to have given her time to throw up a defending block. The hand smacked her across the face and as she flew back, the best Kareen could do was maneuver her body so that she landed on her feet with one hand grazing the ground as she skidded to a stop.

-Skitz