I slept a little on the flight to Seattle. I was not as distressed as you could have expected at having just left my mother and the only home I clearly remembered possibly forever. But if you had known me, maybe you wouldn't have been surprised. I was never that emotional, always reacting to life as though it only touched me through a thick glass window. I had always pinned that on my oversensitive mother, overly mature to compensate for her thoughtlessness. When the flight touched down, the older gentleman who had sat in the adjacent seat helped me get my carry-on luggage off the rack. I was tired, and had only recently woken. I wandered through desks in a daze to collect my suitcase. It was grey and unremarkable, but it had bright pink identification tags attached to it I was confident I wouldn't miss. I waited patiently for it to pass around, but as the crowd dwindled I started to wonder if it had been lost on the way from Phoenix. Resigning myself to what would have only been my usual luck, I headed for the help desk, cheeks scarlet at the prospect of bothering an airport official. A strikingly beautiful redhead caught my eye. She was standing with a taller, dark haired man I assumed to be her boyfriend, or husband, or whatever. He was holding a bulky suitcase in one hand, a surprising display of strength. He was a slight man. Another colour, almost as bright as the woman's stunning hair caught my eye, and I changed direction, sighing in relief.
"Excuse me? Excuse me!"
The redhead turned to survey me through her dark glasses. The man didn't move, but inhaled deeply.
"Can we help you?" She asked politely. Her voice was high and sweet, soprano.
I looked up at her. She was tall, six foot at least, and impossibly beautiful up close. I wondered if the two were actually a couple. I had thought so at first, but now they seemed to look similar, the same icy complexion and perfect features. Siblings, maybe. "I just...you have my bag." I indicated the case, blushing. She glanced down at it, then back at me, her slow smile revealing flawlessly white teeth. "James," She sang in her chiming voice. "We have her bag."
He turned fully to face me, and his eyes locked with mine. I staggered back in shock. They were a bloody crimson, a murderous dark red. Unnatural. He smiled like the woman, and his teeth were just as white, just as pointed. They glistened like the fangs of some predator animal.
"I thought we might." He answered the redhead. His voice...if hers was melodic, his was a hundred times that. It was the most amazing thing I'd ever heard. It sounded like the most expensive dark chocolate tasted. It drew my mind to the few classical performances I'd seen in my life, to the way the musicians could channel such emotion from their instruments to make you weep. His voice was like that. I stood so enraptured for a moment that I didn't even know what he'd said, only how beautifully he said it. Then, his words pervaded the fog in my mind and I was frightened, and confused. I wanted my suitcase, and Charlie was probably waiting for me. These people were strange. I wanted them to give me my bag, get back to their business, and stop whatever game they were playing with me.
"Can I have my suitcase?" I tried, but my voice was weak and intimidated. His grin widened, displaying more teeth, and he hefted the bag, stepping a little away from me. I moved towards him, and he laughed, clearly getting the result he was going for. "Come with us now little girl," The woman cooed, and that pushed me over the line from nervous to panicked. She sounded like a child kidnapper, or a disgusting pedophile. I stumbled backward, mouth opening to scream. James moved faster than I did and he grabbed me around the waist, pinning my arms to my sides and dropping my bag as he did so. The redhead deftly scooped it up, carrying the heavy weight as easily as he did. He pulled me close to his side, that lovely voice hissing in my ear.
"Do you want to live?" His tone wasn't threatening, or even violent, which was odd, considering the situation. He sounded conversational, mildly disinterested and polite. I choked, unable to speak. It was surprising how suddenly, how quickly the fear shot through me, honest-to-God fear, the herald of imminent death, like I'd never felt before. My sight blurred and everything became distant, like a camera unfocusing. I bobbed my head weakly, feeling like I was going to collapse. He kept his grip on me and guided me through the airport, following the flame-haired woman. No-one looked twice. I wanted to scream that I needed help, to ask why they couldn't see something clearly wrong was happening under their noses, but my voice had abandoned me the moment the dark-haired man had threatened me so cordially.
We left the building, but the redhead turned away from the gathering of cabs at the sidewalk towards the edge of the airport complex. They moved faster and faster the further we went from the crowds, and he was closer to carrying me than anything else. She must have taken a wrong path somewhere, because they stopped to stare up a mile-high chain link fence. I revived a little, some part of me starting to search for opportunity to escape, then the redhead leapt like a cat into the air, and grasped the metal fence, scaling it with inhuman speed and agility. It was almost like watching a spider scuttle across a floor. The motion was like that, too swift to follow and with the same unnerving quality. She moved like she had extra limbs to pull her too-fast. My other captor hefted me over his shoulder, and imitated her. I was curiously detached. I felt I must be watching some film, or even dreaming this. The world seemed vague and unreal, somehow waxy. I closed my eyes and ignored the nauseating dizziness as he ran with enough speed for the wind to burn my face.
Another voice entered the fiction some time - days or seconds or something in between - later. It was smooth like the others, but supplicating. "Yes, James, that's her."
"She's been singularly unimpressive so far." The man from the airport was bored, on the surface, and he was bored in a definitely well-bred and British way.
"You haven't changed her yet." The new voice pointed out. "She will be a powerful shield, I know it."
"Mmmm. Well, I'll change her, as you suggest. Go to Victoria, she wanted to hunt."
I was past attempting to translate any of this into sense. I felt dulled and numb and wanted the end I was sure was coming. I wasn't even present enough to follow the entire conversation. Parts of it were patched over with black. I felt a chill rise in the air in front of me, and knew what I would see before I partially lifted one eyelid. The demonic eyes of the man from the airport floated before me. I felt his grip like concrete on my hand, then he raised my wrist to his lips and poured hellfire into my veins.