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A Lost Tale:

Chapter two

~Would you save my soul tonight~
~Would you tremble, if I touched your lips~

Ring. Ring.

The telephone is ringing, and my mind conceives the sound, though I don't want to open my eyes. It is too early and I am still asleep. The telephone does not want to stop ringing, and finally I reach over and yank the receiver off its hook.

"What?" I demand.

"Well, hello to you too." The voice that greets me is amused, with a faint hint of an accent behind it. Devon Rygnor. Another one of my friends, and the last person who knows my real name. He is lamia, one of the Silverthorne clan, a lesser well-known clan than the usual lamia ones, though he does not go by his clan name. Devon is not as old as Topaz or me, merely a couple of thousand years. I have known him for about 500 years, 536 years to be exact (I have a great memory). He can be a real pest, sometimes, like now.

"What do you want, Devon?" I growl, getting up resignedly and go about getting ready.

"Nothing," he responds. "Just checking up on my favourite person. Did you get your job done?"

He is referring to the job I did a few days ago; Donovan Redfern.

"Yeah," I say while making myself some breakfast. Strange, but in all my life, I have not stopped craving real, human food.

"So what else did you call for?" I know that was not the only reason.

"Nothing. Just wanting a chat. Are you coming to the club tonight?" Devon owns a club not far from here, and Topaz and I frequently go there. "Maybe," I say, settling down on my couch. A voice sounds in the background through the telephone, and I hear Devon hushing someone.

"Ah," I say, mischievously. "Who did you take home last night, and what did you promise her this time?"

He laughs, but it's a little strained, and I get straight to the point.

"What's going on, Devon?"

"I seem to have gotten myself into a little trouble," he says and his voice sounds just a tad bit frightened. I sigh. It must be bad for him to call me. Usually he handles all his affairs himself, and not very pleasantly either.

"So who's out to kill you this time?"

"An old enemy. Someone strong. I can't handle them."

"You want me to get rid of them."

"No. Just—some protection." He sounds lost and my heart goes out to him. He has been a good friend over the years, even saving my life a few times. "Okay," I say and he sighs.

"Thanks, Si," he uses my nickname. "You are an absolute angel."

"Of death," I comment dryly, and he laughs. The voice in the background sounds again and I demand an explanation. He laughs a little again, seeming embarrassed. "What wrong, Devon," I taunt. "Found your soulmate?"

 There's a slight embarrassed pause, before he answers. "Yes, actually."

I am shocked immensely, yet pleased for my friend. He sounds happy, more than I've ever heard him. He explains how they touched in the club last night. She is a witch, of the name Incia Diouncia. I can feel his happiness through the phone, and he talks non-stop about her. Soon I am laughing, but growing tired.

"Okay, okay," I saw as he launches into how beautiful she is.

A knock sounds at my door.

"She has large eyes that are just—" he goes on.

"Beautiful," I say. "Yes, you told me."

The knock sounds again. Harder and more impatient. I wonder who it could be. I dont get many visitors.

 I am standing now, moving towards the door, but Devon's next words stop me in my tracks.

"I think I love her, Si."

My heart contracts. It is so sweet to hear that, and vaguely, deep, deep inside I wonder whether I have a soulmate. But I know the answer to that. No. For who would love a monster such as I? I have killed among thousands and do not care. I am an assassin. I am inhuman.

Devon's voice brings me back. He has speeded off again, talking about her personality this time. The knocking has not stopped but is a banging now. "All right," I yell at the door. "Coming! Devon, stop talking *now*." He obeys and falls quiet. "That's sweet, hon, I'm happy for ya. But now I really have to go." And I put down the phone, sure he does not mind. Truly, if you can see past the vampire thing (not to mention the assassin thing), he is a great person.

 I open the door, in the chaos forgetting to scan for who it is, and see James Maytree in front of me. I blink, surprised and in that instant he has stepped around and past me, going into my little apartment. I do not like that, and thoughts of death come to my mind, although I put them back out. I close the door and face this James person. "Hello Ms Rion," he says, sitting down on my couch.

" *Do* come in, and please *do* take a seat, " I say sarcastically. He smiles, but it does not reach his eyes.

"I have a proposition for you, Ms Rion."

"Really? What makes you think I want to hear it?"

"Oh, the fact that I know where you live, how you look and a *lot* of people would just *love* that information." He is sounding smug, and my annoyance increases. He is threatening me, I am sure of it.

"What do you want?" I say, making my voice bored.

"Oh, I dont know. About 20mill should do."

I am thunderstruck—and mad. Before James Maytree can even blink I have launched myself at him and have him slammed against the wall. My hand is like a vice around his throat. "You dare to threaten me?" I hiss, my voice as cool and dark as a snake's. At that point I think I would have let him go, but he is still smug.

"Do you know who I am?" He says, leaning forward slightly. "I can have a swarm of Dark Ninja's faster than a fifteen millennia old vampire can strip."

And suddenly I'm laughing. This stupid, silly, *young* vampire thinks he can best me? Hah, I think, as he looks at me incredulously. That'll be the day.

"Mr Maytree," I say coolly, "Kindly retract that statement. You are not in the best of predicaments now."

Now he is angry—as if he can do something to me—and his eyes become hard. "Don't you know who I am, bitch?"

"No, but I know what you will be. Dead." I focus my mind on the stake on my coffee table. It flies up and lands in my hand—I am very good at telekinesis. I cannot afford for him to live. Even if I did pay up—20mill is little to me—he would most probably pass my information on to others who will be less—nice.

Besides, I *HATE* being called 'bitch'.

James has gone a chalky colour and is looking decidedly less smug. He opens his mouth—probably to plead for his life—but I slam the stake in his chest and watch him die. Honestly, I am as bad as Hunter Redfern sometimes, though I do not know why everyone is so scared of him; I knew his father and was there when he was born.

     After some minutes James Maytree is nothing but a structure of mummified bones, and I'm wondering what to do with him. Finally I decide to get rid off him in an alley. I nearly laugh as I get rid of James Maytree. It feels like a murder-detective sort of thing. But I am not worried.1

A sly little voice tells me somewhere that maybe I should be.

~*~

         A while later, I arrive at Topaz's flat to check on her. I have not seen or spoken to her for the past few days, and I admit I am worried about her. Why did Amrick have to come back, I ask myself as I ascend the stairs. She was just starting to feel better.

I know my friend sometimes suffers from sleepless nights (or should I say 'days'). I know those nights are the ones Amrick goes on missions. And I also know those are the nights that she could get that feeling…the feeling that Amrick did not return from those missions.

I take out my key and insert it, opening the door. The next moment I am flying, and hit the wall hard. I gasp and blink, pushing the pain back. In front of me stands a dishevelled brown haired young vampire. He does not belong here, and does not look he has been invited.

Besides he hit me.

I hit *him* across the room.
Literally.

My fist connects with his jaw and sends him flying into the far wall of the living room. His impact with it jars the house and I hear scrambling in the bedroom, though I pay no attention. In an instant I am on the brown haired vampire, and I drag him to his feet, only to throw him to the other side of the room. Once more he grunts, his eyes falling shut in pain—my touch is not quite soft. I break the leg of the wooden coffee table and advance toward him. "Speak," I say. He sees the wood and his eyes widen, and he starts to sputter.

"Hey lady, you have it wrong—"

I do not wait for him to continue but I bring the wood down. Someone grabs my arm. I swirl around, furious now. It is Topaz and she is looking at me mildly curious. "Si," she says. "Why are you trying to kill Amrick's best friend?" She swipes hair out of her face, not altogether surprised.
She knows I occasionally…overreact.

I stop and lower the wood, feeling slightly embarrassed. I have enough grace, however, to apologise to the boy, whose name is Gerard but is called Gerry most of the time. He in turn apologises for striking me, he thought I'd come to burgle Topaz (silly, I think he should have saved his worry for the burglar. I know how un-nice Topaz can be). Soon enough the three of us are laughing and I find out that Gerry has come along with Amrick for a respite from Daybreak work.

~*~

Later that night, the four of us arrive at club Darklight, Devon's club. The club is a strange mixture of humans and Night People thrown in together. The music pounding loudly sounds appealing and I join the dance-floor immediately, giving myself up to the beat. It feels good, and I realise that today has been filled with too much excitement. The thought saddens me for a moment; I have always loved excitement but lately I have settled into a routine. I do not like it. But I am dancing and put it out of my mind, moving to the beat just like everyone else around me. Soon I am sweaty and stop for a drink. At the bar I meet Incia Diouncia and I see that she is beautiful, with long black hair, and a Latino complexion. She smiles at me and I see the true earth-witch thing in her. She radiates serenity. What on earth is she doing with someone like Devon? Speaking of the devil, he appears beside me.

"I see you have met my lovely girlfriend," he says, barely audible above the music. I smile and nod, not wishing to scream to be heard. He smiles back at me and whisks her away to the dance-floor. I stand by and watch, slowly drinking my coke.

    I am bored.

The thought comes to me suddenly, like a light being switched on in my head. Where does it come from?

    I need excitement.

The second thought of strangeness. I wonder if I'm losing my mind.

    I wish *something* would happen.

I frown at myself and decide I *am* losing my mind. I do not wish. Not for anything, because it does not come true. I've found that out the hard way. Once more I join the dance floor, dancing hard and wild, but I wonder whether it isn't to get my mind of what I wished for. I shake my head—partly to the beat—and put that thought out of my head. For some reason I cannot stop thinking off the phrase:

  "Be careful what you wish for."

~Would you laugh, oh please tell me this~
~Now would you die, for the one you love~

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