A/N: Once again, simply warning that this is COMPLETELY unedited and unrevised. Please pardon any grammar errors etc. I just wanted to get this up here. Enjoy the chapter (sorry it's so short, school and all), and please do review. I know you're reading this, I can see the hit count. I'd really appreciate your feedback. Without further adieu, chapter 1!


Mind returning to reality at Pam's voice, Eric cleared his throat, looking up.

"Yes?" he asked—the slightest hint of irritation in his usually stoic voice. A few moments of silence passed between the two vampires, Pam rolling her eyes, "Closing time," she replied shortly, leaving the stage and disappearing to the back of the club. Sure enough, when Eric looked around the place was empty. Of course, he'd gotten caught up once again in the memory of the strange vampire woman. There was something ridiculously familiar about her face, but for the life—or lack thereof—of him, he could not place it. The thousand year old Viking vampire pushed the face from his mind, standing up and walking to the back of Fangtasia. Dawn was fast approaching and, much to his chagrin, that meant another day of dreaming about the eerily familiar, and yet completely strange, vampire woman.

By the time he'd reached his coffin, buried deep beneath the floors of Fangtasia, Pam and Chow had both left, heading to their own homes to sleep the day away. Too distracted to change out of the clothes he'd been wearing that evening, he slid soundlessly into the black coffin, closing the lid above him and sitting motionlessly in the familiar darkness. Pale lids closed over sapphire blue eyes, immersing Eric completely in the shadows.

He was not, however, left in peace for long. As he drifted off to sleep, a snow white face with blood red lips and forest green eyes filled his mind, hair and shadow blending into one. Shifting in his coffin, Eric let his imagination take control. After all, the woman had made it clear she would not be forgotten easily. As the sun rose and his imagination ran rampant, the thousand year old vampire fell asleep to pictures of mysteriously familiar women with red and black hair.


The next evening came too quickly for Eric's taste. He'd been quite content letting his mind run free with the two women that continued to haunt his mind. Both looked almost identical—the only difference being their contradicting hair colors. Rising from his coffin, he begrudgingly changed out of his dirty clothes from the previous evening. At the thought of another night of boredom, sitting on his throne and staring off into the sea of people, Eric grimaced. How could he possibly sit there, doing nothing, for another night?

Regardless of the conflicts going on in his head, within two hours Eric was back on his throne, staring off into the sea of faces and bodies, moving and speaking, yet saying nothing. It wasn't until the door opened the 300th time, as he'd been counting to keep his mind occupied, that Eric finally focused. There, standing just inside his club, stood the mysterious woman from the other day. Had it really only been two days? He could hardly believe it. Her hair was tamer now, cascading down her back in carefully arranged curls, stopping just above a crimson belt, fastened with a polished pewter skull. She fit in perfectly, and yet she stood out like a Queen. Clad in head to toe in black leather, silver colored studs, shining petwer skulls, and crimson, she was quite the vision to behold.

Apparently, Eric wasn't the only one who'd noticed the newcomer. Several males approached the female vampire, trying to garner her attention. With vague surprise, the Viking noted exactly where her eyes were fastened—him. Smiling vaguely, the siren with ebony hair turned her head, engaging one of the nearby males with ease. He wasn't anything special in Eric's opinion. Decently attractive and fairly fit, but he was clearly only after one thing. As soon as the male made his move, the female was gone, moving effortlessly through the crowd. Eric's eyes trailed after the woman clad in leather and crimson, watching as she made her way to the stage.

"Permission to approach?" she inquired. Clearly she wasn't new; she knew vampire etiquette down to the tiniest territory issues that they all suffered from. Eric nodded silently, watching her easily ascend onto the stage and approach him.

"From what I gather, you're the owner of this club?" she questioned again, Eric nodding once more in response.

"You were also one of Godric's, yes?"

At this question, Eric shifted in his chair uncomfortably; his heart, however dead it happened to be, ached at the mention of his lost friend and maker.

"Your silence speaks for you. I too was made by Godric, and that is why I've come to find you. You've…intrigued me, at the very least. There's something familiar about you, and now that Godric is…gone, I thought I would track down the others made by him to tell them the news. I thought that perhaps you might know someone else," she said, evergreen eyes not once leaving his. After a few moments of silent contemplation, Eric nodded, standing.

"Come, we will talk elsewhere. Some place more…private," he declared, glancing accusatorily at the group of people watching. The female glance back briefly, a motion so quick that even Eric barely caught it, "Yes…perhaps that is better. Lead the way…" she said, trailing off as though waiting to remember his name. Catching on immediately, Eric supplied the closing to her sentence, "Eric."

A vague smile pulled at the corners of her crimson lips and she nodded, "My name is Adísa."