Author's Note: Well, hot-diggity-dog, chapter one is here. First chapter is a little boring, but please, it is a necessity! Please, this story will only be as good as your inputs, help me out!
Enjoy:
A Lost Tale: Chapter One~Let me be you're hero~
~Would you dance, if I asked you to dance~
I open my eyes, surprised a little at the sunlight streaming through my curtains. I do not usually sleep on until the sun rises. In fact, I do not usually sleep *at all* until the sun rises. I sigh, and get up, walking to the bathroom, and performing the morning ritual of washing, before going to the kitchen to grab a glass of blood. I glance at my little notice board—handmade, I'm rather proud of it—and close my eyes with dismay. Today I have a little job. I smile at myself as I pull on my jacket and walk out of my house. 'A little job' is a rather amusing way of describing killing someone.
Yes, that is what I do. I am an assassin. I get hired by people to get rid of others. Though, I am not your average assassin. I do not kill for fun, simply for the money. I do not torture, my victims die in minutes of meeting me.
I am 15 millennia old, and a vampire. Made, truthfully but still a vampire. I am not crazy, contrary to popular belief among the Night Worlder's who are hunting me, but fifteen thousand years can sometimes make you a little cranky.
Like now. A boy bumps into me, and does not apologise. I stare after his back as he walks away, boring my will into his mind. Telepathy is easy to me, and a few seconds later the boy goes sprawling into the middle of the road. A car screeches by inches away and the boy jumps up, eyes wide open in shock.
I walk away, satisfied; he will look where he is walking next time. I walk for some time, thinking a little. I have not much to think about, but then after 150 centuries a lot of thinking has been done already. Finally I arrive at my destination, a grey building, a little house like so many others in the road. I reach out with my powers, feeling for my target. He is there, and no one else. Good. This will be easy.
Five minutes later I walk back out, the job done. Donovan Redfern lies in his own blood. It was easy to kill him, but then I have long ago learned to perfect my killing skills to the max. I quickly leave the area, going back to my house.
I have no plans for today and decide to see one of my few friends, Topaz Dirgue. She is like me, a made vampire and has lived for 10 millennia; I have known her for five. Topaz is pretty, inside as well as out, if you get to know her. We are alike in many ways; we are both assassins and both dont socialise with others, to mention but a few.
It is funny, I think as I get into my car. She is the only family I have. When I first met her, I wanted to kill her. It was in my crazy period, a time of enraged madness. I went around killing all that even looked at me wrongly. I am not proud of myself, and do not like the memories, so I push them away as I ascend the stairs to her little apartment. I knock on the door, while using my key to waltz right in. She is nowhere to be seen but I hear sounds in the bedroom.
"Hey, darling!" I call, pouring myself a drink. Honestly, it is like my own house, I feel so comfortable here. "Hey!" Topaz calls out of the bedroom. "I'll be out soon."
I walk to a little mirror on the wall and study my appearance. I am beautiful, I note with absent honesty. My skin is the colour of diluted milk chocolate—an effect of my African descent—and shines softly in the light. My black hair that shines brown in some places and red in others is cascading down my shoulders at the moment; I had it cut yesterday. I look roughly eighteen and think about the phrase 'appearances can be deceiving'. I must have invented it a while ago.
I smile and I know it is perfect, just like the rest of me. Sometimes, I wish I had just one fault physically, though I'm sure I have plenty faults mentally. I say that as a joke, of course. I like to joke. My eyes stray to a sign next to the mirror, made of diamond. It says 'Topaz Dirgue & Sierra Rion'. Our two names, next to each other. I had it made for Topaz last year, for her birthday. Amazing how we, who have lived for so long, can remember our birthdays, but we do. Our names sound good together, I think, although 'Sierra Rion' is not my real name. That piece of information only Topaz and one other know, and they would tell no one.
Topaz comes out of her bedroom, wearing a white blouse and light blue trousers, her dark hair cascading down her back and her brilliantly topaz eyes, set in fair skin, staring at me. I think she was named for those eyes, for it feels like they dominate your world when you look into them. She looks around seventeen and has a great smile, which she is showing to me now. "How's it going?" I pour her a drink also, and we sit down comfortably to chat. She sighs, and shakes her head, and I notice her smile is a little strained. "Him, huh?" I say, putting my hand on hers.
Topaz had recently met her soulmate, only to loose him again. He didn't die, but he is part of an organization called Circle Daybreak. I know about them, of course, with their prophecies. To tell you the truth, I do not entirely disbelieve those, but do not believe them either. I am neutral, or try to be most of the time. Actually, I quite like Thierry Descoudres. I have met him several times over the years. I even helped search for Hannah Snow once—though she did not go by that name then. A thought suddenly strikes me; apart from him, I must be the oldest vampire alive. I smile, and once more look at my friend. She is not looking well.
Topaz's soulmate decided he could not live the life of an assassin and had tried to persuade Topaz to join. Of course, she could not go. My friend and I both hate Circle Daybreak, though hate would be too strong a word to use.
I pat her hand, a gesture she welcomes, for she grips my hand. "Thanks," she says.
"What ever for?" I ask, knowing full well what she means. She knows I know and smiles at me. "Cheeky."
I smile back. "So what do you want to do today?"
She shakes her head. "Don't know. Wanna hit the shops?" She gasps, remembering something, and jumps up, flying into her bedroom. I watch her, amused. She is like a little child, so full of life. "Guess what I bought yesterday!" she calls, throwing things about in the bedroom.
"What?" I ask, reaching for one of the chocolates on the coffee table. She walks out of her bedroom, holding a beautiful dress. It is light blue and exquisitely made. I gasp, and congratulate her. She shows me the price tag, and I whistle. " Nine thousand," I say. "Bit little, isn't it?"
She laughs and swats at me with a pillow. It does not matter about the price. Both of us are so rich that it would take the length of an A4 paper to write each of our accounts contents, using microscopic writing. And that is just the one in the US; I have several all over the world. Though rich, neither of us likes living in huge houses. Both our houses are quite small, only a few bedrooms and are in normal streets, not in the middle of the countryside or such.
I swat my friend back and soon we are involved in a pillow fight, spreading goose-feathers all over the apartment. Finally, we stop, laughing uncontrollably. "Its good to hear your laughter," I say to my topaz-eyed friend, and she smiles at me. There is a knock on the door, hesitant, and I am beside it in a moment. "Who is it?" I call, my voice casual. "Um, its Amrick," says a voice.
Amrick. Topaz's soulmate. I look at my friend and she is looking at me with huge eyes. I open the door, letting the blond boy in and he walks in, nodding at me. He knows me and I know him, and I also know this cannot be good. Topaz is staring at him, her eyes still wide as he moves to stand in front of her. Then they collapse in each other's arms and I leave immediately, not wanting to see this. I walk quickly downstairs and am on the streets in a few seconds. I am worried about my friend, she has been smiling little these past weeks and I wonder what trouble Amrick has brought now. I shake my head. It is up to her, she may do what she wants.
I stand still on the street and the people around me know wisely to skirt past as I think. I am bored, but I think I will go to the library. I set off for the library, which is almost a mile away in this large city of New York, but I like the exercise, and walk very fast. I like to read, in fact I *love* to read. I have read a lot over the past 15 thousand years, and have an extensive library in my single large property in Mauritius. Over the years I have met a lot of writers such as Shakespeare. He was not as brilliant as everyone thinks nowadays. In fact he was a little crazy back then.
I arrive at the library soon, and step inside, nodding to the receptionist. She knows me well; I come here often, and she smiles back. I walk around, looking for something that interests me. Soon enough I spot a book I have been meaning to read for a while, called Lord Of the Ring. It is a fantasy book, about witches, elves, goblins and the like. I wanted to read this book because it is so imaginative and so not—real.
Though, if *we* exist, *everything* might exist. I make myself comfortable and start reading, soon engrossed in the story. Honestly, JR Tolkien is such a good writer; his writing takes me away to a place of happiness, or some feeling that comes close.
But like all good things, my contentment comes to an end soon. Someone sits next to me. I look up and meet jungle leaf green eyes set in a nicely crafted face with a tangle of blond hair. He is not old, nineteen to twenty at the most. Well build; tallish if he would be standing up; I see all these things because I am great at first impressions. I know something else too. He is not human. He is one of them, of which I am part too.
Vampire.
I frown, and wait but he continues to look at me, not saying a word. "Can I help you?" I ask politely. Then he blinks, breaking his perfect composure. "Ms Rion," he says and I tense. Not many people know even my fake name. He has stopped and I nod for him to continue. "My name is James Maytree."
I tense more. Maytree. Did I not assassinate someone a while ago with that name? But it is too soon, far too soon, and no one has ever come on my trail after an assassination. "I would like to speak to you," he says.
"About what?" I ask, keeping my voice casual. He says one word, and it nearly stops my heart that had been beating for the past 1500 decades.
"Assassins."
Yet I keep my composure; I have become very good at it. I smile confusedly at him. "I'm sorry. I have no idea what you are talking about."
"I'm sure you do, Ms Rion." He is persistent. I have enough of this little game. I briefly close my eyes in a gesture of exasperation, and make my voice slightly annoyed. "Please get to the point, Mr Maytree. I am rather busy."
He does not get to the point, but looks around him. "We will talk about it another time, Ms Rion." He gets up.
"I'm pretty sure we *wont*, Mr Maytree," I say, making sure he knows I mean business. Anger flows into his eyes, and he leans close to me. "Be careful, Ms Rion. One of these days, you will not wake up."
"Are you threatening me?" I ask, my voice sharp.
He says nothing but moves away. "We will meet again."
I frown as he departs. Who is this James Maytree? How does he know who I am? Where did he know to find me? I am slightly annoyed, but only because my library visit has been ruined. I am not afraid of James Maytree; I have met monsters far worse than him and dealt with them sufficiently, I will do the same to him if he proves troublesome.
I put him out of my mind as I leave for my house.
It would prove to be a mistake.
~ Would you run, and never look back~
~Would you cry if you saw me crying~
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Raise me out of my depressive state and comment!! Ah, I'll love ya forever for it!