Authoress's note. This fic is loosely based on the Nightworld series by L.J
Smith. The concepts are hers, and the characters Ash, James and Poppy also
belong to her. The others in this fic are of my own creation. I've also
changed the style of writing, and written it from a solitary viewpoint.
I move down the street, keeping my eyes locked on the blue ford station wagon. I try to stretch out my senses, but feel nothing. I draw near, and touch the car with a fingertip. I glance around and leave the parcel I have been carrying as instructed-under left hand drivers door. I punch in a number on my mobile phone. "Done." I say. "Yes." The voice at the other end tells me. "A little bird just told me so." I look around again. "Your little bird must be very fast." I say loudly. There is a laugh. I wait. The voice at the other end of the phone instructs me to come by. I say I will be there within the hour. I hang up. I cross Pitt St. Cars screech and explicit threats come from all round. I run to the safety of the curb, narrowly missing being hit by a Toyota Corona. On my way I buy a copy of the "Telegraph" from the newsstand. There have been three more murders.
Meetings are always more dangerous than the deals. Riskier than the moving around, riskier than the couriering. Of course, there's money. But the power comes from the blood. What am I doing? Doing something human, something more "normal". But you have to be quick. Hard-headed. Cold. They like people who are cold. They have no emotions. Emotions are never good. And lucky enough for them, they have met me. The perfect model. No emotions. No emotions, and immortality. It has a ring to it, doesn't it? To these silly mortals, I am a teenager, and all I want is to party. I am the youngest of the group. This is to my advantage. Should I ever be caught, I face Children's Court and a slap over the wrist. How wrong they are. I suppose I was a teenager once. By all accounts, I am a teenager. My looks, my voice, my choice of dress. Wrong. Why do I play this game? Because I like danger. I like the risks. I like humans. They are fun to play with. I like being able to think, and know that my thoughts run ten times quicker and deeper than any mortals. It's a power game. While pretending to be a mortal, I have made myself a status. I quite like the "power" I have. But in there world, as well as my own there are two rules: Don't let anyone know about what you do Don't fall in love with anyone.
I move down the street, keeping my eyes locked on the blue ford station wagon. I try to stretch out my senses, but feel nothing. I draw near, and touch the car with a fingertip. I glance around and leave the parcel I have been carrying as instructed-under left hand drivers door. I punch in a number on my mobile phone. "Done." I say. "Yes." The voice at the other end tells me. "A little bird just told me so." I look around again. "Your little bird must be very fast." I say loudly. There is a laugh. I wait. The voice at the other end of the phone instructs me to come by. I say I will be there within the hour. I hang up. I cross Pitt St. Cars screech and explicit threats come from all round. I run to the safety of the curb, narrowly missing being hit by a Toyota Corona. On my way I buy a copy of the "Telegraph" from the newsstand. There have been three more murders.
Meetings are always more dangerous than the deals. Riskier than the moving around, riskier than the couriering. Of course, there's money. But the power comes from the blood. What am I doing? Doing something human, something more "normal". But you have to be quick. Hard-headed. Cold. They like people who are cold. They have no emotions. Emotions are never good. And lucky enough for them, they have met me. The perfect model. No emotions. No emotions, and immortality. It has a ring to it, doesn't it? To these silly mortals, I am a teenager, and all I want is to party. I am the youngest of the group. This is to my advantage. Should I ever be caught, I face Children's Court and a slap over the wrist. How wrong they are. I suppose I was a teenager once. By all accounts, I am a teenager. My looks, my voice, my choice of dress. Wrong. Why do I play this game? Because I like danger. I like the risks. I like humans. They are fun to play with. I like being able to think, and know that my thoughts run ten times quicker and deeper than any mortals. It's a power game. While pretending to be a mortal, I have made myself a status. I quite like the "power" I have. But in there world, as well as my own there are two rules: Don't let anyone know about what you do Don't fall in love with anyone.