The girl continued to survey the industrial sector. The place was dead, devoid of life, an abandoned maze of rust-clad factories, chimneys and water tanks. Electricity pylons towered over most of the buildings, and a network of overhead cables created a black web over the entire area. She sensed the man approaching, yet made no movement to suggest that this was the case. She continued to perch on the high wall, with her coat no longer billowing, but rippling in the gentle breeze; her eyes watching yet not really seeing, her mind being elsewhere.
The man had almost reached the girl now. His hand delved into his jacket, and then re-emerged, tightened around a heavy, matte-black metal object. He knew that she couldn’t see him, but he was close enough to make out the details of her face: the slight flush on her smooth, pale cheeks, the way a few strands of flyaway played about her nose, the fullness of her lips. He switched on the Magnalite he had retrieved from his pocket, but kept the beam of light pointed towards the ground.
The girl’s attention turned to the man that she sensed approaching her. She could hear the faint padding of his footsteps on the dusty floor, the displacement of air in every breath he took. She could feel the warmth of his body and smell his sense of veiled trepidation. And she could hear the quickening beats of his heart, pumping inside him.
More time had passed since he set eyes on this creature than the man cared to remember. Their association seemed just a vague, unorderley memory - an echo of times once had and now lost. An echo of peace and hostility, friendship and betrayal, impossible hopes and shattered dreams.
The girl knew now who this man was. She didn’t have to turn, hear his voice, or smell his familiar scent - she could sense him. Still her gaze was focused on the sprawling, even landscape before her; past the bleak industrial estate, past the perfect grids of suburban housing, and past the light and surgical orderliness of the cityscape and honed in on the colossal citadel that towered above the metropolitan skyline. Not taking her eyes off the cold, steel structure, she tilted her head slightly to one side.
“Adrian. Not since the battle for the fourth blockade have our paths crossed.”
Her voice came as no surprise to the man. The sound of it – quite youthful and warm for one so calculating and experienced, he noted – awakened something deep inside of him; a feeling he hadn’t experienced since the early days of the rebellion.
“Raisa. The last of Thirteen. Last of the elite.
The girl tilted her head slightly further, allowing the man a full view of her profile against the blood-red skies. She regarded him out of the corner of her eye. Nothing much had changed since their last encounter – the same deep brown eyes, the same dark hair and trace of stubble, the same black shirt and combats and the same long black coat - not dissimilar to her own – that hung to just above his ankles. Even his boots were unchanged - timeless as herself, timeless as the rest of their kind.
The girl returned to her squatting position, coat still waving slightly in the breeze. Relaxing slightly, the man called Adrian returned the Magnalite to his coat pocket and paced to the wall. He was not inordinately tall, but his posture and stance – shoulders back, chest out, feet shoulder width apart – brought him to eye-level with his comrade.
As he clasped his hands behind his back, he followed his companion’s gaze to the daunting tower in the distance. As he watched, a large panel about half way up slid down, and three helicopters exited from an internal hanger and fanned out in different directions. Although like flies at this distance, their searchlights were just visible. The panel then retracted, returning the citadel to its usual malevolent state.
“The time has come again for the rule to be challenged,” he proclaimed. “For too long, humanity has allowed itself to become oppressed. For too long we have watched and done nothing. It is time for those of us who feel the call to stand united.
“We are not meant for this,” replied the girl. “We are solitary beings. We are different to them. We rely on them but we owe them nothing. I have watched the demise of the Ancient Egyptians and the rise and fall of Rome. I have witnessed more revolutions than I care to remember. The last war ended with hundreds of our kind being wiped out. I am a weary creature, Adrian, and I want no part in this.”
In one fluid movement, the man swung his hands onto the wall and leapt up into a perching position mimicking the girl’s. It was true - despite his appearance, he was far younger than the ancient that sat beside him. He had barely begun to understand his existence. But he knew he must be the way he was for a reason. There had to be more to it than the bloodshed and the loneliness and the curse of a perpetual life.
“It is different this time. We will be fighting alongside them against a common enemy. They are tired of this oppression and we can no longer hide in the shadows. We cannot thrive amongst them in this oppressive state, and they cannot thrive amongst themselves. The New World Order requires our extinction, whilst the people are once again in denial of our existence. We need them to survive, and they need us to help them thrive.”
“And then what?” demanded Raisa, turning and boring deep into the man’s head with her eyes. “Yes, I feel the call. Our kind has called to each other too much of late. But we are not meant to side with them and they will not side with us. Perhaps we were once like them, I can’t even remember any more, but now we have… shall we say… conflicting interests. What happens when the war is over and they realise our true motives? When they realise what we truly are and cannot deny?”
“They cannot do this without us and we have no need to reveal our true selves. When this is over you can go back to your solitary and sealed-off existence, I can go back to mingling amongst them and feeding on whoever I wish, and the rest of our kind can return to whatever form of life they choose.”
There was a short pause, and the girl returned to gazing over the landscape before her. Once again the man followed her gaze. The girl, deep in thought, subconsciously twisted a lock of her hair between her fingers – a human habit she thought long eradicated. Then, very slowly, she turned her head to directly face the man, and stared
deep into his soul with her vampire eyes.
A sparkle appeared in the man’s eye as he recognised a friend he thought he may never see again. He thought he saw a playful smile spread across the girl’s face, but as quickly as it was noticed, it was gone. The girl bit her bottom lip and sucked, revealing a pair of perfect, pointed fangs. The voice that spoke was hers, but in a way the man hadn’t heard for decades:
“Not now, Adrian. I thirst.”***
Far away, in a huge metal tower, a unformed soldier in an observation room watched a man and a young woman squatted atop a wall in a derelict industrial sector. After spending some time talking, the young woman leapt off the fortress wall upon which she was perched, and plummeted towards the water below, followed by her comrade. Their long coats billowed out behind them, slowing their fall. Down and down they fell, faster and faster, until disappearing before reaching the floor.
