Chapter 3:

I race through the alleyways and dark streets, my black boots barely making a sound. Cool stainless steel touches my right calf where I have hidden a six-inch blade, but otherwise I am unarmed. A police car cruises by me, not even bothering to look in my direction. My destination is clear in my head, I know where I am headed. Within five minutes I'm there, the old and nearly worn down building called Olympic Apartments.

I take the stairs two steps at a time, being in too much of a hurry to be bothered with taking the elevator. I make my way to apartment number sixteen, ring the doorbell and wait.

No answer.

I ring again, then pound the door insistently. I consider just breaking it down, but one of the neighbors is bound to see me and then there will be questions. Annoyed, I ring the bell a third time. Open the Goddamn fucking door.

Only then does it occur to me to try the knob. Strangely, it is unlocked. I find myself surrounded by familiarity; this is the place I know as well as my own house. So much has happened here in this small, cramped apartment. I have wept tears of joy as well as tears of unbearable pain and sorrow. I have learned to accept who I am, what I am, and what I am destined to be.

The house is dark. "Anyone home?" I call out. I walk past an untidy kitchen, into a bedroom strewn with dirty clothes. A single photo rests on the table next to the bed. I pick it up gingerly, tracing the outline of a face I know so well.

All of a sudden, before I know what's happening, I am thrown off my feet with such a sudden blow that I gasp. The frame falls from my hand and shatters into a million pieces. Thankfully I fall on the bed, and in one swift motion I stick my leg out and my attacker trips and falls to the ground. But he is quick. I start to get up and he pounces on me again, pinning me back on the bed. Within seconds I find myself face to face with my attacker.

"You've gotten stronger," I say with a smirk.

He finally grins. "Not stronger than you," he says, but I know it is a lie. Ray is a much older vampire than I am; he is the one who has turned me into this…thing. For that I am still not sure whether to be grateful to him or to hate him for what he did. I only know that I would have died if he hadn't given me his blood, five thousand years back, when I used to be mortal.

He finally moves off of me and I get up, examining his face closely. He still looks like the twenty something football player he had once been. His deep brown eyes have always had a mischevious glint to them, which I love. Raymond Hill was my mentor, my good friend, and in many ways my savior. He had been Salim's best friend. The three of us had been a team, the last of the vampires. I had not seen Ray since that day Salim gave his life for me, that day which was not so long ago and already my beloved had become nothing more than a memory.

He sees me watching him and gives me a weary smile. "He's in peace, Panny. He's in a much better place," he says, reading my thoughts as always.

I look away. "I wasn't thinking about him."

He holds my chin in his hands. "You don't have to pretend to be strong in front of me, Pan. I know you. But you know you cannot weep for him forever. He wouldn't have wanted it."

"Do you believe in life after death, Ray?"

He smiles again, but there is a look in his eyes that I cannot quite explain. "I do. But then again I don't truly believe Salim has ever died. He is within us; he is what gives us power and makes us complete. He is a part of our inner being."

I smile vaguely and change the subject. Ray is right, I must get my mind off of Salim and continue on with life. I am strong, I remind myself. I am ruthless, and I have killed many times. But the reason I have come to see Ray today is not to be consoled about Salim.

"There's something else I came to talk to you about tonight, Ray. There have been…killings. Which could only be the work of other vampires." I pause. "I thought we were the last ones."

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A/N: Next update will be in a few days. Thanks to those who keep reviewing :).