The cool concrete presses roughly against me, the cold night air strangely comforting as I peer down at this pathetic little place, this little town. I know I could easily destroy it in naught but days, but something inside me is still human. Some remote, smothered spark inside refused to put out its glow, and I know that not all of me has been possessed by what I have become. I turn away from the edge of the apartment roof.

"Reelo." I whip around at the sound of my name, only to stare into the intense blue gaze of my blood-father. His brilliant white skin is even paler than the moonlight, his raven hair shifting in the November wind. I cannot move for seconds as his intense blue gaze locks me in place, a skill he possesses that I most regret. He has forced me to stand twisted in place, my eyes squarely upon him.

He is so beautiful, but so deadly, like a double edged sword in a tempered steel sheath. We both know he could annihilate me at any time he chooses, but for reasons we have both left unspoken he refuses to crush me yet.

His gaze loses effect on me as I struggle inside and out to free myself. When I do, I try to get away from him, but he easily stops me and laughs with strange amusement. He grips the bare skin of my arm as I try to turn away again. "Let go of me," I say, trying to jerk my arm free. I wince as his elongated nails sink deep into my flesh, chilled with death, both my own and of others. "You cannot run from me forever. You cannot escape destiny, fledgling," he insists, infuriatingly quiet for a man of such power. Or perhaps he is less of a man than I am.

"I can try," I say loudly. I need not, for both of our hearing is intensely sharpened. But it makes me sound braver than I am, and because I am frightened by him I need all the courage the world had to offer. He laughs again, low and intense and lethal. "You are a foolish woman, Reelo, to oppose me so defiantly, when you are truly afraid. Yes, my rebel, I know you are frightened. I can smell it as purely and easily as any creature like us can smell blood fresh from the kill." I regret the delicious shudder is words bring and will the feeling from my mind. Only he, my Jadan, my creator, can make me wish to kill, wish to drain the life of a breathing thing and force it to become one of us.

To both my happiness and grief, he releases me and vanishes, a clever little magic trick he taught me long ago that I feel no need for. It is merely for show, to tease and bend the minds of unsuspecting mortals who have the bad luck to sight one of us for what we are. Our eyes can trick the mind and delude the senses, and so we have no fear of being discovered by one or two pathetic human tourists. A group of them is a different story, and although legends of the colonial times tell of fierce battles with vampires, stories in which a single brave hero defeated one of our kind, the truth was not nearly so gallant.

Only a select few groups of those barbarians have ever defeated a vampire, only in groups and only against a single weak fledgling. The remaining fools created tales to keep townspeople from suspecting, I suppose, for no one has ever really discovered us. It is strange to think that at times I fear my prey.

Tonight, drained merely by his presence, I too resort to teleportation and will myself into my apartment. I am thoroughly exhausted though I have done nothing to tire myself, as it seems Jadan took great pleasure in draining my aura tonight. He can absorb it like a sponge and leave an opponent dazed if he wishes, a tactic too strong for a human or animal.

And though I realize they are inferior in nearly every way...

How my heart yearns to be a human again.