For a moment, it feels as if he is kissing me.

But that is not the case. He bites into me.

I scream in agony, and then promptly choke on my blood. Bryce's teeth dig further into my neck, sinking through flesh and muscle.

It feels as if I am being torn open. I howl in agony, as Bryce's teeth continue down, sinking deeper and deeper every second. I shriek at him to stop; and he does.

It seems to pain him, though, judging by how he gasps and shudders before me.

I cannot see him shuddering, but I can feel it. I try and say his name, to see if he is alright, but, once more, he places an icy-cold finger on my lips.

"I am sorry," he says softly. "I know you are in pain, and I know you will suffer more. A lot more, at least until my venom entirely consumes you."

I am in shock. I thought that Bryce wished to save me, not torture me.

"But it will get better," he reassures me, patting my leg gently. "Your wounds will heal, and together, we will walk together as vampires."

So that is what he is. That explains the crimson eyes.

The pain takes over. I open my mouth and begin to scream through my mouthful of blood.

XxX

Time passes.

Whether it is a minute, ten, or an hour, I cannot tell. Fire is licking the inside of my neck, hot, dangerously hot. It seems to burn away at my flesh, my muscle, my bone.

I am screaming, and Bryce sits beside me, apologizing every time I scream. I find his icy hand, and grip it tightly with my own burning one. He does not jerk away; he squeezes my fingers gently. Still, he apologizes. The fire has finished with my neck; now it moves down to my arms, which slowly start to burn from the inside. I shriek and, despite the broken state the mugger left me in, I flail around weakly, trying desperately to put the fire out. It does not work. I shout in frustration and my whole body shudders, as the fire progresses.

XxX

I open my eyes, sometime later, and am in shock.

My body is completely healed.

All my broken bones have mended. My nose is straight and perfect once again.

I sit up, and I marvel at how I can see every speck of dust that floats in the air, and every sound I can hear within a twenty-mile radius. I hear a twig snap a kilometre away. I hear a cricket launch itself off the ground two miles away.

A nervous laugh rises in my throat; I let it out and nearly gasp in shock. My laugh sounds like wind chimes.

It is beautiful.

Bryce is smiling beside me. "You are beautiful," he tells me, stroking my cheek gently.

"Am I like you?" I ask. I hadn't noticed it before, but Bryce was gorgeous. Crimson eyes aside, his face was perfect; like an angel.

Bryce nods.

I do not know what to say to that. I stand up. Bryce does as well. "Let's go," he says, taking my hand in his; his hand no longer feels icy-cold, and mine does not feel like it is on fire. Our hands feel the same.

We are the same.

XxX

He leads me to an abandoned parking lot; it has long been out of use. Bryce sits me down and tells me to wait. He assures me that we won't be more than five minutes.

When he leaves, I do as he says and sit on the ground, but I am troubled. The fire has not left me entirely. It is still in my throat. The fire burns harshly, and it does not let up. If anything, it gets worse. I grip my throat with one hand and groan. Bryce made a mistake. I am still turning into a vampire.

"No," I whisper. "This cannot be. Bryce said I was finished."

There is a large puddle nearby. It is filled with beer cans and chip packets, as well as several cigarette butts. Ignoring Bryce's request, I crawl over to it, eager to see what I look like now. Did I have crimson eyes, like him?

I peer into the litter-filled puddle, and let out another gasp. That dark-haired beauty could not possibly be me.

She had the face of an angel, her dark hair resting just below her delicate-looking shoulders. Her hair was a tangled mess, but she still looked beautiful. Her skin was chalky pale and slightly translucent-looking, but it did not look unhealthy. It seemed to glow with a radiance no human could ever achieve. The only thing that was out of place was her, no, my, eyes. There were not as dull as Bryce's, but they were a violent red, and they seemed to glow. They were beautiful, just like the rest of me, but there was something terrible and dangerous about them as well. Like a demon who looked just like an angel, but there was a flaw in its disguise; its terrible, evil eyes.

"I was right, you know. You are beautiful."

Bryce is back.

If I was still human, I would have been startled, but I am not. I may look human, but I am not. I know that much.

I feel the strength in my body, a hundred times more powerful than the strongest human. I feel the fire raging inside my throat; no human has that happen to them. I see my ruby-coloured eyes; and that is just more proof that I am not human. "Thank you," I say graciously, my voice sounding like singing.

Bryce smiles. "I'm only telling it how it is," he says. "But, then again, no vampire is ugly."

If Bryce and I are anything to go by, I believe him. I cannot imagine an ugly vampire. "Anyway," Bryce continues, "I have something that may help ease the pain in your throat."

"You know about that?" I ask.

Bryce smiles as if he is speaking to a dim-witted child. "Every vampire is like that, Anastasia," he tells me. "That is just the way it is."

I do not question him. He saved my life; I am going to give him as much respect as I can possibly muster. It is not much, I know, for I have never had to answer to anyone.

It turns out Bryce's present is a human girl, of about fourteen years of age. She is unconscious.

Bryce places her in front of me and tells me to drink from her.

"I do not understand,' I say, staring at the girl with wide eyes. How am I supposed to drink from a human?

Bryce explains to me that I must drink her blood, if I want the fire to subside. I do want the fire gone, so I raise a pale finger and open up her jugular vein. I know where it is because I studied the human body a few years ago. It is another lifetime ago, though, and I find, as I press my lips to her neck, that I cannot remember doing the studying. I remember what I have learnt; but I do not remember learning it.

The girl's blood flows into my mouth, hot and salty. The fire is doused almost at once; I feel much better. I suck away at the girls' neck, and as I do, I feel her life slowly drain away from her body.

She is dying.

As she takes her last breath in my arms, which are wrapped around her shoulders, I put her down and wipe my mouth. A tiny trickle of blood had been dribbling down my chin. I am embarrassed, but Bryce tells me not to worry. "Everyone's first kill is always messy," he explains. "You are actually quite neat; I had blood all over me when I was a newborn."

I do not know what that means, so I ask him.

Bryce sits beside me and explains everything. A newborn, he tells me, is the phrase for someone who has recently been turned into a vampire. The fire, he explains, is the thirst that every vampire feels when they are thirsty. Newborns are thirstier than an older vampire, and are also angrier and more prone to killing. It is because of this, Bryce warns me, that the Volturi is often asked to step in and destroy the newborns.

"What are the Volturi?" I ask, a little nervously.

"They are the law enforcers of our world," Bryce says. His eyes are dark and brooding. He does not like the Volturi, I am sure.

"Vampires have laws?"

"Only one," Bryce answers darkly.

"What is it?"

"That we keep our existence a secret from the humans."

Oh. It is too obvious, really.

I lead the conversation away from the Volturi. He obviously dislikes talking about them. "How long is someone a newborn?" I ask.

Bryce considers. "It's different for every vampire," he finally answers. "An average vampire is a newborn for about a year, and then their strength starts to fade. They grow less angry, less intense, and their eyes darken to crimson or burgundy."

Bryce stands up. "Come on," he says, taking my hand in his again, "We must get going."

I still have many questions I want to ask, but Bryce has done enough. He has answered the basic questions, and he has told me everything I need to know to survive in this odd world.

I do not ask where we are going. Such things do not matter. I am immortal, and nothing can damage me, except for another vampire. Bryce tells me that if I keep my mouth shut and do not kill aimlessly or expose myself to the humans, I will make it through the first year of being a newborn vampire.

XxX

Indeed, Bryce does not take us to just one place.

We travel, all around the world. Before I was a vampire, the only countries I had been in were Australia and America. We visit France, but only briefly. It is a sunny country and we only move through it at night. It is a dangerous country for a vampire to be in, but I enjoy it. I like the Eiffel Tower and how it towers into the sky. Many humans still walk the streets at night.

It is easy to hunt. The fire in my throat does not burn for long.

Yet we have to continue on. The next country we visit is England. It is much colder here, though it does not bother us. It rains a lot, and the humans here are all pale, but not as pale as us. We can move around in the daytime if the sun is not out, for if we were to enter into the sun, our skin would glitter like diamonds. Bryce tells me this, as we observe a few humans hurry home, eager to get out of the icy rain. We kill a few humans, and then we have to move on. The humans are not stupid. They know someone dangerous is out there.

If only they knew.

XxX

As we cross oceans and continents, Bryce tells me about his life. He is five hundred years old, he tells me, and he was an artist when he was human. He was fascinated by the pagan way of life, and he often painted pictures relating to them. In those days, pagans were seen as witches, and many pagans were, always wrongly, burned alive, because the villagers thought they were going to curse them. Bryce himself was not a pagan, but he had many friends who were. One of his closest friends, a girl named Katrina, was burned at the young age of seventeen. She had been seen grounding herbs and burning incense, and naturally the villagers thought she was concocting a spell. Bryce was made to watch her burn, as he stood there, in the crowd. It destroyed him to see his friend die, in front of his eyes. It killed him that he could do nothing. Shortly after Katrina's death, he tried to hang himself. He very nearly succeeded. A vampire whose name was Gloria removed the rope from his neck and changed him.

"That's all I can remember about my human life, though," he tells me, sounding a little sad. I feel like weeping, but I find that I cannot. Even though my face screws up in agony for Bryce, no tears fill my eyes. "It is a human, thing, to cry," Bryce whispers, stroking my cheek gently. "We are not human."

He does not say any more. He does not have to.

In return, I tell him about my human life. He is fascinated by the fact that I was a professional thief. "I thought there was something different about you," he admits. I give him a questioning look. "When I first met you, in that cafe."

"Oh," I mumble.

Bryce smiles at me. "I wondered why a young woman was in a cafe, wearing all black and those odd sunglasses."

I laugh. "Well, I was on a job."

"Yes, I know," he says, frowning suddenly. "I heard you shoot that woman, and the dog."

Now it is my turn to touch his cheek. "I did not want to," I assure him. "I do not like killing."

"It does not matter anymore," Bryce says, lacing his fingers with mine. "That was your human life. This is your new life now."

XxX

It is odd, but I feel my feelings for Bryce changing, as he leads me around the world. I think I am beginning to love him. Certainly, he feels the same way. I know this because he is often touching me; my cheek, and my hand.

We never meet another vampire on our travels, although I do smell them from a distance. They do not approach us, and we do not approach them. This is good, I think. I do not want to meet another vampire while I am still a newborn. From what Bryce has told me, newborns are often looked down upon, as clumsy and stupid. Perhaps it is true.

But, with Bryce at my side, I am more careful than most newborns.

It is not easy.

Sometimes I must go a few days without feeding, and my throat feels like it is searing. My eyes darken as the days go by, fading from ruby, to burgundy, to coal black. My throat hurts most at these times. I grow irritable, and I shout at Bryce unnecessarily. He takes it in his stride, though, reasoning that if he did want to put up with this, he could simply kill me.

XxX

It is in Argentina that I cannot put up with it anymore; I lash out, in broad daylight, and murder five humans. I feed greedily, the blood warm and dripping. By the time I have finished with them, I am satisfied. I am a hunter; a cheetah, roaming the jungle, and the humans are my antelopes.

More humans scream. I glance up from the last human, whose throat has been ripped open.

I snarl at them, sounding very much like a feral animal. The humans scream some more.

Bryce grabs my arm and screams at me to stop. I struggle for a bit, and very nearly escape his grasp, but Bryce holds firm. "No, Anastasia!" He screams. "You have done enough!" He grips me tighter, drawing me to his chest, so that I cannot move. I snarl and spit viciously. The humans flee. Bryce holds me, until I calm down a little.

"We must finish the job, otherwise the Volturi may step in at some point," he says, releasing me.

I am almost weeping. "I am sorry, Bryce," I sob. They are dry sobs, my new body not capable of producing tears.

Bryce cups my face in his hands. "I am not angry," he tells me, his face not far from mine. "We must catch up to the humans."

And so we do. We corner them in a park, and open their veins. We do not feed; I am full, and Bryce says he is as well, though I do not know if he is being entirely truthful; his eyes are noticeably darker. They are not black, not yet.

We bury the humans under a stream; Bryce tells me that the police rarely look under running water. Then we hurry out of there, our hoods on our jumpers yanked over our heads, the tip of the hood covering the top half of our faces.

It is lucky that we got away with that. Bryce tells me that if I had done that in Italy, I would be dead already.

I do not ask why it is more dangerous in Italy than Argentina, because I already know. That is where the Volturi must reside.

I feel a prickle of fear every time I hear the name mentioned now, even though I have never met them or anything like that.

Hopefully, I will never have to meet them.

That night, I am restless.

"Anastasia," I hear Bryce say. I ignore him and pace around our motel room, chewing my lip. It does not bleed; I do not bleed anymore. "Anastasia," Bryce says again. I ignore him again, staring out the window now; it is a starry night. The stars wink cheekily at me from their haven in the night sky. The full moon shines down on me; my skin appears to glow but does not sparkle.

I hear Bryce get up from his bed and walk swiftly to where I stand; on the outside balcony. He puts a hand on my shoulder. For some reason, this irritates me, and I am already furious at myself for breaking the rules. "What?" I snap at him, focusing my blood-red eyes on him. I have a powerful stare, even for a vampire. Humans quail under it, and flowers wilt under it, if I stare at them for too long. Animals flee from me, though they seem to like Bryce quite a bit.

"I understand you are angry," he says gently, trying to comfort, but it is not working.

"I am more than angry," I tell him, balling my hands into tight fists. Bryce waits for me to elaborate, but I do not.

He already knows.

XxX

The next day, at dawn, we leave Argentina, sprinting. We are fast sprinters, about the same speed of a race car. It is not safe to be here anymore. Bryce holds my hand tightly as we run, and again, I think of how he must feel about me. I do love him, but not that way. I love him like a brother, nothing more. That much I have figured out about myself.

I wonder again how Bryce knows my name, but I do not ask. It is something that he probably just knows.

XxX

We arrive in Germany some time later. It is twilight when we arrive on the outskirts. Frankfurt is a nice enough city, I think. We find a 5-star motel and break down one of the motels doors. Bryce is upon the surprised human at once; she was blow-drying her hair. He grabs her and immediately opens up her neck. He drains her dry, and then carelessly tosses her limp body on the bed.

So, he was lying. He was thirsty when I murdered those five humans. He just resisted.

Such is in his nature.

This also annoys me.

Now I know what Bryce meant that newborns are easily irritated. I sigh.

"What's wrong, Anastasia?" Bryce asks, crossing the room to me, and slinging an arm over my shoulders.

"I do not like being a newborn," I answer.

"No-one does," Bryce says sympathetically. "Do not worry, Anastasia, you are doing quite well for a newborn."

"But still not great," I mutter. Bryce says nothing. What is there for him to say? I broke the rules. "Why do you put up with me?" I ask him. "I am a newborn. I am clumsy, and quite useless."

Bryce considers me for a moment. "I will tell you," he says. "But you must have an open mind. Do not interrupt me."

I nod seriously and he begins his tale:

"I have watched you for some time, Anastasia. Ever since you were born, I had my eye on you. Why? Because, ever since I first saw you, I knew there was something different about you. I do not know what; I only knew that I would find out if I turned you into a vampire, and for that, I would have to wait for a few decades. Before my eyes, you changed from a naughty schoolgirl to a professional thief. You killed often, you knew your weapons, and you knew self-defence. You were beautiful, corrupt, and probably one of the most dangerous women in Australia, and then America. But, you were perfect in my eyes. I knew you would make an intriguing immortal. So when I saw that man hurting you, I-I just snapped. I twisted his neck and he died in my hands. And then, I saved you. I waited beside you for three days, my throat burning more and more, until it became almost unbearable. But I did it."

"Why?" I ask him, even though he asked me not to interrupt.

His answer is simple: "Because I love you."

I stare at him in shock. Even though I knew this was coming, it is still a shock to hear.

"No," I gasp. Bryce nods. This is too much. I shrug out of his one-armed grip and dash for the bathroom, even though I have no need for that anymore. I just need some time alone.

"I understand, Anastasia," Bryce calls softly through the door.

I sit on the edge of the delicate ornate bathtub, and glance around. It is an all-white bathroom. There is a shower with a glass cubicle surrounding it. The sink and mirror are huge, much too large for any human. Speaking of humans, there is a human male staring at me. He is shirtless.

"Hello," I say quietly. He stares back at me. He does not know he is staring at his killer. What he sees is a beautiful woman with ruby-red eyes, the eyes of the devil.

"You are a vampire," he finally manages.

I neither confirm nor deny.

The human just stares at me dumbly. It annoys me greatly. I launch myself off the edge of the bath and bare my teeth in a ferocious snarl; my hands lash out and grip his shoulders. He screams. I slap him, using only a fraction of my strength. Even so, I nearly take his head off. He is not unconscious, however. He is still perfectly aware of what is happening. "You are a vampire," he says again.

"Yes," I say, a faint snarl still in my voice.

"You are going to kill me," he says dreamily.

I consider. I do not know why, but I do.

There is something in my mind that lurks, something powerful. I feel it has something to do with my unusually powerful stare. "That depends," I say.

"On what?"

I stare hard into his eyes. He stares back, not flinching. My red eyes bore into his own, and I feel words form on my lips. "I am not a vampire," I whisper. "I did not kill your wife. I mean you no harm. If anyone asks, I do not exist. When this day is over, I do not exist. I am a shadow. A ghost, and you will pay me no attention whatsoever."

His eyes grow wide. "You are not a vampire," he mumbles. "You did not kill my wife. You mean me no harm. If anyone asks, you do not exist. When today is over, you do not exist. You are a shadow. You are a ghost, and I will pay no attention to you at all." Then he turns away, and starts to enter the shower.

I am shocked. What did I just do? I shout at him, but he does not turn around or even react.

I did something incredible just then. I erased his memory that I barged in on him starting to get ready for a shower. According to him, I do not exist.

I walk back out, to Bryce. He is waiting for me, a slight smile on his face. "Bryce," I say. "I am sorry." I lunge at him, hands outstretched. He is slow to react. My hands close around his throat, and I begin to squeeze.

He is shocked. "Anastasia, what...?"

"DON'T CALL ME ANASTASIA!" I shout, snarling and spitting angrily. I know I fed the day before, but I am empty once more. My eyes are as black as coal, Bryce realises, much too late. I start to twist his neck. He kicks out at me with his legs; I dodge them easily. My throat rages and that angers me even more. The scent of the human set me off; I did not realise at the time, because I was using my mysterious power, but I know now. I yank his head to the side.

Bryce's eyes are wide. "Anastasia, no!" he gasps. "Don't-"

Too late.

My teeth tear into his neck and I rip out his throat. He gives a high-pitched keen of pain, but I do not stop. I keep tearing, until he is lifeless and unmoving underneath me. I toss his body on the bed, beside the human woman's, and snarl at the ceiling. I hear the humans in the room above ours exclaim and wonder whether there is a dog in our room. I march back into the bathroom, and murder the human in there. I open up his veins, and I drain him dry.

The fire flickers and then dies in my throat. I place the human in the shower and draw the curtains around his lifeless body. I then slam the bathroom door, and see what I have just done.

"Oh, God," I say weakly, falling to my knees.

I have killed Bryce.

My only friend.

He loved me, and I killed him. I crawl over to his broken body and clutch him to my breast, my shoulders heaving with sobs.