Untrustworthy

Chapter1

The night sky seems so very vacant tonight; the tall, platinum buildings only illuminated with the glow of the moon. The large orb appears ghostly; full, glowing and pale. The buildings are so multiple that they completely block the moonlight from the streets below. Evil beings lurk in the shadows. Veign-tangling screams carry on the wind, a silhouette slicing through them like a Misericorde into the darkness. It speedily leaps from tower to tower, stopping only in the center of the madness. The moon's shine lights the face of the being. It's a woman of about eighteen, her hair white and glimmering. It's straight, falling to her jawbone. Her bangs are cut straight across her forehead, like those of Cleopatra. Her skin is pale, glowing, just as the moon. Her face is young with crimson-coloured cat-eyes. She watches the mass hysteria below. Mortals, fleeing for their lives from the leeches that pursue them. Vampires; super fast, super strong, beautiful-the perfect being. In order to obtain these abilities, they all pay the same price: the unyielding thirst for blood. It's like an addiction, turning these lovely creatures into murderous monsters. They'll do anything to get their fix. The humans can't protect themselves, they scramble like sheep from a wolf, only delaying the inevitable for a short time. Someone has to defend them, they can't very well do it.

The vampires below wear older clothing like that of the Victorian era; suits and top-hats, some have capes and canes. The woman's familiar with this particular monarchy of vamps. She pounces from her viewpoint above the city, landing stealthily on the back of a vampire. She grips the vamp's head, twisting until the skin begins to tear. The bones crackle, blood spurting from every opening. The throat rips in half, freeing the head from the body. She surfs the body as it falls to the concrete, allowing the head to drop to the ground beside it. A group of vampires gather around her, hissing and baring their fangs. She reaches to a brown leather belt wrapped around her waist, unsheathing two sai swords. So expertly she maneuvers them, flipping them between her very fingers. She shoves one into the throat of a vamp, dragging it up into his jaw. She lifts her booted foot, kicking the vampire in the chest. The jaw tears from it's place, leaving the insides, including the top of the spinal cord and juggular veign, exposed. She slices through them with no hesitation. The fresh blood the vamp had stolen from a human sprays outward, showering over her. The warm feel of it trickling down her skin exuberates her. The smell of it filling her nostrils, the fumes of it sliding searingly down her throat, it's almost unbearable. Her mind blackens to nothing, her consciousness gone. The desire inside of her spreads through her entire being, electrifying her. She moves into a state of barbarism, a new being inhabiting her body.

Her vision returns, but it isn't hers; it's the barbarian's. Every being is only a pumping, red blob. With each beat, a deep scent of blood radiates from them. The only piece of her true self left is her self-restraint. She must remember never to drink the blood, lest she become one of the very nightcrawlers she despises. She squints through her red sight, seeing vague details. Humans are the innocence of the act, they must remain unharmed. Around her, she sees pairs of shining, sharp teeth. These aren't mortals. A vamp charges at her, she simply steps aside. He fumbles passed her, stepping on his own toes. She returns the sai back to their resting places and turns to the vamp. She grabs him from behind, squeezing her arms around his neck. Small grunts and growls are heard, but he's unable to scream for help. The smell of blood still lingers on his breath. She bites his ear, piercing it with her fangs for a firm grip and ripping his head straight from his throat. The blood spews from the neck, painting the street. The rest of the vampires retreat. The woman only laughs wickedly. She starts toward them when a blinding light fills the street. She blinks slowly, her red vision fading. The barbarian creeps away, hiding in the depths of her soul. A screeching echoes off the buildings, the woman glances to the source to find a long, black car veering toward her. She leaps into the air, the car stopping beneath her. She lands on the hood, glaring into the windshield.

Two men sit in the car, staring at her in amazement. The driver has a round build and a pale skin colour. He has red hair that just peeks out from under a hat that reads, "Phukkit." He has a small nose, thin lips, large sideburns, and light blue eyes behind glasses. The man seated on the passenger's side appears... odd. He has black hair that falls in front of his eyes but is swept to the side. He has wide eyes with a small nose and full lips. His eyes, however, are cat-eyes of a dull maroon color. His complexion seems unusual as well. This man looks ghostly, as the woman does. She stares him down, he sort of resembles a... a vampire. The driver is carrying an assault rifle, AK-47 with an ACOG T1 sight. They're hunters. The men quickly scatter from the car, obviously fearing that she'll attack if they just sit there. The heavy one aims his weapon carefully, steadying his red-dot sight right between her eyes.

"Watch it!" The woman shouts, "Can't you see I'm trying to work here?"

"Wait." The empty-handed hunter gestures for the other to lower his arms. He can only stare in awe at the wonder before him. Her face is young and beautiful, her skin so soft and pale. She's thin, her curves perfectly proportioned on top and bottom. She looks so delicate and graceful, yet powerful with every movement she makes. She's poised and carries herself with dignity, so she can't just be some rogue from the streets.

"No, don't wait!" She argues, "While you're standing here, wasting time with me, the vampires are getting away!" She drops from the hood of the car, turning her attention back to the rather large group of vamps that sit watching the scene. She positions herself in a readied fighting stance, flicking her left hand. The nails on those fingers grow the length of a dagger with sharpened, pointed ends on each. The sea of vamps parts, allowing one to pass through the crowd. He has long, raven-black hair that falls to his chin. It leads out from under a tall, black, silken top-hat. A wolf pelt curls around the back of his neck, draping over either shoulder. He wears a suit; his silk, black jacket with a long tail and bow-tie perfectly straightened. He has a white glove on either hand, a cane resting in his right. He has burning bright red cat-eyes that could peer into the very core of your soul if he so wishes. His nose is small, accompanied by two high cheekbones. His lips are thin and pale, curling up into a smirk. His expression seems mischievous-playful, even. With the way this legion of vampires bows before him as he approaches, it's obvious that he demands their highest respects. This is their King.

"Well, well, well." He grins evilly, his blood-stained teeth glinting in the moonlight. "Vira... it's been a while."

"Leave." She growls, a dark look in her burning crimson eyes. "Or I'll kill you."

"Now, you know you can't do that." He steps closer to her, gripping her chin between his forefinger and thumb. "Remember what we have in our possession."

"Go!" She shouts, ripping her face from him. Her breathing grows deep and heavy,

"As you wish," The head vamp turns to his followers, "Let's go boys and girls." He walks away, the rest obey. Vira turns her eyes to the men who only stand and watch.

"Some hunters you are." She snarls, her sharp teeth extracting from within her gums and reaching out from behind her lips. The fashion at which the teeth bore themselves is that of a snake. They're frozen in shock, the weapon barely dangling from the larger man's fingers. She turns from them, running off into the the shadows of the silver buildings.

"Wait!" The man with the vampiric appearance shouts after her, but she's already gone.

"Another wasted night." The other man sighs, glancing around at the ruin. "Who was that, Knithe?"

"I don't know, Ryan." Knithe responds, an odd feeling of longing passing through him like the possession of a ghost as he stares toward the alleyways where she'd disappeared.