AN: PLEASE READ! This is my first ever fan fiction! I was hit with this idea a few days back and I decided to type up the first chapter. Read, enjoy, review, comment, respond, ANYTHING. Just give me your feedback and tell me if I should continue this story or not.

- Natalie

Chapter One: Nightfall

Staring at her moonlight tombstone, old and unwanted memories begin to flood into my numbed mind.

She's gone now.

She's gone forever.

And I'm all alone, left to conquer this world by myself.

Well isn't that just a big bowl of crap?

I mean, I'm only fifteen and my mother died last week. Yes, I do feel grief, anger, hatred and loneliness, but I also can't help but feel that my mom was a little bit selfish. She left me. She chose to give up on her cancer. She chose to stop fighting. She was ready to let go. I wasn't. I wanted to stay with her for as long as possible. I wanted her to continue her treatment, I wanted her to continue to fight. But I guess everything good must come to an end.

Even though I've had this mental conversation with myself for the past three days, I feel left out and betrayed. I know my mother just died but did she ever think that when she left, I would have no one? When my dad got into a car accident six years ago, he didn't make it out. My mother promised me she would stay with me forever. She promised she would protect me and love me and care for me with the love of a mom and a dad. But I guess that wasn't a good enough reason to stay with me a little longer, to live with me for a little more.

The tears I've been trying to push back came rushing forward at that thought. The 'oh, I'm fine' mask crumbled and melted away to the face of a depressed and distraught teenager. But can you blame me? I have no where to live, no family to go to and no reason for life. I'll probably be left to wander the streets until some orphanage finds me and imprisons me to eternal damnation.

"You are exaggerating," I whisper to myself. I really want everything to be fine. I really, really do. Maybe if I just force myself to believe it hard enough, it will actually come true.

I scan over my mom's tombstone for the one-hundreth time.

Sarah Carlucci 1960 - 2010

Beloved mother, widow and daughter.

Loved by all, forgotten by none.

Such simple words could capture so much.

My tears began flowing faster now and I didn't even hear the footsteps behind me.

"What's a girl like you doing in a cemetery at this late hour? You really shouldn't be here," A silky and rich male voice came up from behind me. I let out a small scream and turned around slowly. A tall male figure was standing in the moonlight, leaning against a tall tombstone. His bronze hair and hazel eyes shone brightly in the dim lighting, but that wasn't what extracted the gasp from my mouth. His skin... his skin was as pale as the moon.

When I finally regained my senses, I swallowed hard before saying something.

"Who are you?" I managed to question. I hope I sounded sarcastic and tough. I quickly turned around, wiped my tears and turned back to look at the mysterious stranger.

The male chuckled. "That doesn't matter. The question here is who are you?"

I glared at him through the darkness. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

I heard him sigh deeply. "Again, the question is what are you doing here?"

"How do I know you're not some serial killer that's going to kill me?"

He stepped closer to me and I could see his strong jaw, full lips and dark eyelashes. It was almost feminine, but he looked so beautiful because of it. I wanted to reach out and touch his pale skin and run my hands through his tousled hair.

"You have my word. I am technically not a serial killer."

I stared at him and crouched lower towards my mom's tombstone. "Technically not a serial killer? Technically?"

He ran his hand through his delicious hair. "You wouldn't understand. I would never hurt someone on purpose."

"Oh yeah. That makes everything so much fucking better. I mean, you only kill people when you need to, right?" I tried to use my best sarcastic voice. When he didn't respond, I turned away from him and continued to face my mom's tombstone.

"Just tell me who you are. I won't hurt you, okay?" He was getting agitated, I could tell by the strain in his voice.

I was about to turn around, but he suddenly right behind me, his hand on my shoulder. Through my thin sweatshirt, I felt his icy skin on my hot one. A shiver traveled down my spine and a blush slowly crept to my face. His touch made me feel hot and cold, happy and sad, loved and hated. It felt good.

I breathed out deeply and spoke the first things that came to my mind. "My name is Marcella Carlucci, but I like to be called Marcy. I am fifteen years old. My mother just died last week and I have been visiting her every night since. My father died in a car accident six years ago. I have no family and no relatives. I am alone and I am currently living in an abandoned firehouse with the small belongings I have. Yeah, isn't my life just great?"

I can't believe I just told a complete stranger pretty much my life story. But I couldn't help it. Staring into those eyes and I was...lost.

"You've got it hard, I've got to admit," he finally said.

I sniffled a bit and turned back around to face him. "So tell me a little about yourself."

He hesitated as if he was trying to find the right things to say. I noticed that he was fidgeting with his hands nervously. Strange, seeing that coming from such a cocky guy. "My name is Greyson Breckinridge and I am...sixteen years old."

I glared at him. His eyes kept avoiding my gaze so I could tell something was up. "That's it?"

Another pause. I could feel the silence between us turn awkward and he backed away from me. "Well, there really isn't anything else I can tell you."

"Sure there is. You could tell me about your family, your friends, your likes, your dislikes..."

"First of all, that's not really any of your business. And I'm here to learn about you. I mean, judging by your looks, you should be at the beach in a skimpy bikini. But here you are, sitting in in a sweatshirt and black jeans on the cold, hard ground," he interrupted.

I pulled at my sweatshirt self-consciously. "Those are just stereotypes. You can't judge me by that. And stop trying to change the subject!"

Greyson eyed me up and down. "I'm not judging. I'm just stating my opinion. And I'm not trying to change the subject, I'm just trying to avoid talking about something I'm not comfortable with."

"Why are you uncomfortable with telling me about yourself?" I stood up next to him. He was almost a whole head taller than me. I tried not to look intimidated, but the way his eyes bore into mine, I couldn't help but shrink away a little. And the cold energy he was radiating did not help either. Something about him seemed off...almost inhuman.

"Well, I just met you today. Doesn't that make us strangers?" He asked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"I trust people easily," I fired back. I crossed my arms and narrowed my eyes at Greyson.

He looked back at me with amused eyes. "That's not going to get you very far in life. Especially your love life."

I almost jumped him then and there. Instead, all I could manage was to glower and appear pissed. Obviously, it did not work because a smirk was tugging at Greyson's lips. I wanted to slap it right off.

"What's it to you?" I spat venomously.

He let out a low chuckle. "Nothing, nothing. Just trying to help out, you know? Stranger to stranger."

"I don't find that funny."

"Find what funny?" He plastered a look of innocence onto his face.

"You. Mocking. Me. It's not funny. It's stupid, annoying and seriously pissing me off! Why are you even here?" I stomped my foot childishly and Greyson backed up a few steps. A tiny spark of satisfaction flitted through my body. I watched as he tilted his head as to listen for something I can't hear. He leaned his body towards the forest behind the cemetery and waited. It was as if time froze. One second, there was a sheepish smile on his face and the next, his lips were pressed into a thin line and his brows were furrowed together in concentration.

Suddenly, a small hint of fear replaced the smirk on Greyson's face. "She's close," he mustered quietly.

"Who?" I asked, trying to compose myself. My hands began to shake.

"You really shouldn't be here. You need to leave, now," he said shakily. His voice was low and barely a whisper.

"What's going on?" I was shocked by the sudden mood change. I looked around fearfully and everything in the cemetery seemed silent. Too silent...or maybe that's just me. "What's happening?"

"You need to leave before...before she comes. You need to get out of here or you will be seriously hurt and I can't afford another..." his voice drifted off, but he continued to mumble about saving more dead people and bringing them to life. All I could do was stare.

"Greyson, shut the fuck up and tell me what's wrong!" I shouted, interrupting his mind soliloquy. He snapped out of his trance and looked at me warily.

"I warned you."

"What? Is someone going to come out and kill us?" I tried to look brave but my voice rose a few octaves when I said the word 'kill'.

Greyson shook his head sadly. "Not us, just you."

I looked around again and this time, I saw something dark standing in the grove of trees. "Wha-what do I do?"

"Run," he stated simply.

"Where?" I scrambled around and tugged at my hair nervously. "You're not providing me with any answers!"

I watched as he opened his mouth to respond, but all that came out was a small gasp. I turned around slowly, but before I could lift my eyes up to see the figure behind me, a sharp pain stabbed me in the back of the head and I was out like a flame.

A rhythmic beeping awoke me. It sounded familiar, I've heard it before. When I was in the hospital with my mom...oh yeah. It's a heart monitor. But why is there one in my room? Am I even in my room?

I ran my hands blindly around on the bed I'm laying in and discovered that the sheets weren't mine. The atmosphere in the room felt different and unfamiliar. The sounds and smells in the room were all strange to me. And everything...everything was so cold.

I tried to open my eyes but they wouldn't open. I tried to say something, but nothing came out. My mouth wouldn't open and my lips won't move. A sharp pain in the back of my head pounded in time with my heart. It hurt like hell.

Suddenly, footsteps echoed in the hallway and entered the room I was in. A ruffling sound of someone standing up from a chair greeted the footsteps.

"Greyson, what have you done?" A soft and motherly female voice spoke. I pictured the voice to belong to someone with soft brown hair, kind brown eyes and clothes that smelled like flowers and gardens.

I heard someone, probably Greyson, suck in a deep breath. "I...I don't know, Raine. One second, I was warning her to leave and the next, she was there. I had to hit the girl with a sharp rock to make it seem like she was unconscious and I was feeding from her. I was so scared! I've never faced her with a real human so close to me before."

Who is this her that scared the shit out of Greyson?

"What you did was extremely risky. She could of died! You're lucky I was there to make sure everything arrived safely. Greyson, she could have found out about the secret."

"I would never tell her the secret! I didn't know that the human would be there. I could've sworn I made sure the cemetery was empty before I entered it," The voice was followed by a deep sigh.

I could just imagine Raine shaking her head disappointedly. "Well, what do you know about her? I mean, that's the least you can do right? Find out something about her. You know, the Council won't be very happy."

Hesitation. Fear. Nervousness. "Her name is Marcella. She likes to be called Marcy. She is fifteen and her mother died last week. Her father died six years ago in a car accident. She has no relatives or friends and lives alone in an abandoned house. She is lonely. And a beautiful girl like her does not deserve this pain."

If I could blush, I would have. But then again, he forgot my last name.

"Did you find out her last name?" Raine's voice was urgent.

"N-no, ma'am."

There was a very awkward silence.

"Greyson Breckinridge! Do you want all of us to die?"

Greyson shuffled heavily on his feet and I felt his presence closer to my bed. His cold hand brushed my damp hair from my forehead and rested against my cheek. I shivered a little and sighed contently.

"Do not grow attached, Greyson. Remember what happened last time?" Raine's voice was worried and filled with warning.

"Sorry. I won't," Greyson reassured. But his voice did not sound promising.

"It's fine. For now. I will be back to check on Marcella later. And I want you to find out her last name."

"I don't know if she'll be conscious..."

"Oh never mind. I will be back later with The Council. We will decide what your consequence may be once she is well and conscious," the female named Pam said. "Oh and Greyson?"

"Yeah?"

"You're a very lucky boy."

I heard footsteps leaving the room and disappearing down the hall. The room suddenly seemed less tense and I heard Greyson let out a relieved sigh. He walked away from my bed slowly and sat back down in the chair.

What did I get myself into?