Author's Note: I'm sorry if this chapter is a little to short for you… I've been having a major case of writer's block lately, so I'm just shoving my way through it and hoping for the best. In this chapter I was mainly focusing on developing character's personalities and their relationships with the other characters, so any feedback you can give me on that would be very much appreciated(: Just a warning, though, Mr. Leonard is turning into quite the little slut, so there's going to be a little bit of sexuality in this chapter. It's nothing compared to most stuff on here, so you probably won't mind… I just thought I should warn you(:

Steve stepped away from the car he had 'borrowed' from the man he'd killed last night, grinning as he did so. He was finally eighteen today (an entire year older than the friends he'd left behind, who were going to be turning seventeen later that year), and he was definitely planning to live it up. He took the last drag he was going to get out of his first legal cigarette and threw it to the ground, digging his heel into it to put it out before striding into a bar. He was fully prepared to gorge himself; his fake ID rested with his wallet inside of his back pocket. However, all thoughts of alcohol banished from his mind when he gazed around and saw that the place was filled more than its fair share of women. He approached the female that was the closest to him and purred, "Hello."

She spun around to face him, beer in hand. She squinted at him as she his face for a moment before asking skeptically, "What— no cheesy pick-up line?"

"Nah," he responded simply. He knew that his detached responses always drove girls crazy, and this girl was definitely one that he wanted to want him.

Her blue eyes bore holes in his body as she raked her eyes over it. She nodded as if to say that he met her standards before she asked, "Are you just here to get me in the sack?"

He paused momentarily, not knowing whether he should admit to his intentions or not. He debated internally before deciding to go it straight. "Yup."

She nodded slowly as she processed that. He was getting ready for her to slap him and to have to move on to the next girl before she inquired, "Your car or mine?"

"Yours," he responded instantly.

She nodded again as a sly smile speared on her face. A sudden sense of eagerness lit her eyes on fire and she grabbed his wrist, dragging him over to the parking lot.

Michaela hugged her knees to her chest as she stared at her open door. She was safe. She was really, truly safe. He was gone. Murlough… the dead bodies… the police officers… all gone. Even her savior had left. He was gone before the sun had risen, and now that the sun was setting and she hadn't moved an inch, she had a feeling that he wouldn't be back. The fact that he wasn't still with her turned her relief into fear—without his being there, what would stop Murlough from coming back?

Almost the moment that thought had passed through her mind, a man appeared before her. From where her eyes shoot downward, the tail of his flowing cape filled her vision. Her eyes left the floor and trailed up his body until they found his scarred face, which was topped off by a short tuft of orange hair. A lump formed in her throat and she barely managed to whisper, "Larten."

He smiled softly at the broken girl that sat before him. "I take it that you have not forgotten me?"

She shook her head fiercely. "No, of course not! I could never forget…" Her sentence trailed off when she realized that she was incapable of finding words to describe their time together.

"I am glad, child. I have thought of you time and time again since the last time we met."

"That's kind of sketchy." Michaela let out a grin to let him know that she was kidding before she asked, "How did you… how did you know? That he was here, I mean?"

Larten Crepsley leaned back against the wall of her bedroom and debated what he could say without giving too much away about himself. "I have been tracking that… man for quite a while. He killed one of my dear friends, and although I have tried to stop him, he has been slipping through my fingers ever since that day. When I learned that he was coming here, I could not help but think of you and your safety… I vowed to put an end to his tyranny here."

"Larten… I'm so sorry," she whispered softly. A small smile danced across her lips as she added on a much brighter note, "Thank you, though. You always seem to be saving me."

"You have more than returned the favor," he informed her solemnly.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "I don't remember having done anything for you. The score is two-zero, with me having done nada."

"Michaela… I do not know if you are aware of this, but I am not exactly young."

Michaela let out a grin. "I couldn't help but notice."

He gave her a scrutinizing glare before he went on, "My point being that I have lived for many years. Nobody has made me feel the way that you do for quite a while. Michaela, we have met but twice in our lives, and I feel more strongly for you than almost anybody else that I know now or have known in my time. I traveled over three hundred miles just to see if you were safe! I have never known love as strong as this one before. Michaela… you are without a doubt one of my closest and dearest friends. I greatly appreciate your company, and the feelings you give me make up for any repercussions that your actions may bring."

Michaela just stared at him, awestruck. She had no idea how to respond to that. Instead of saying something stupid and ruining the moment like she knew she would have if she'd decided to open her mouth, Michaela brought herself to her feet and flung herself into Larten's arms. "Larten… I love you. Thank you so much for saving me. I just… I… I love you," she responded simply when all other words failed her.

Larten let out a booming laugh as he wrapped his arms around the girl he considered to be like his daughter. "I love you as well, Michaela." He pulled out of her tight embrace and directed a bony, sharp-pointed finger towards her bed. "Get some sleep, child. I shall see you at a later time."

Steve looked down at the blonde girl's dead body, which was lying under him. He studied her unclothed figure and let out a small growl when he saw no life-threatening marks on her. Third one this week, he thought to himself. She was the third random girl he'd picked up at a bar. The third girl he'd accidentally killed. The third girl whose body he sucked dry of blood and left in their car.

He scowled when he gave the girl another look-over and still couldn't find what he'd done to end her life. He had no idea how he'd killed the second one either, and this girl looked like she was going to be another mystery. He knew that it had to have been sometime after the sex, because her screams of pleasure had never melted into those of pain. He'd heard enough of both to tell the difference.

He ran his tongue over the sharp points he called his teeth and considered his options. He knew how he'd killed the first girl—he'd been kissing his way down her neck and had accidentally torn through her jugular. Sure, she would've died even if he hadn't drunk her, but that wasn't the issue. The problem was that once he'd gotten a taste of the blood, he couldn't stop. That was how it always happened— he got a small taste of blood and slipped into a kind of trance. Everything would become fuzzy and then all of a sudden, he'd be standing above a dead body.

He flipped the girl over and studied her backside before scowling. She had absolutely nothing physically wrong with her other than the various bruises that all of his 'partners' received in the heat of the moment when he forgot to control his strength. He flipped the girl (Cassidy, he thought she had said her name was) over to the front again and frowned when he saw her small 'O' of a mouth. An idea hit him and he pulled her chin down to open her mouth wider. He peered inside and inspected it for a moment before he found what he was looking for.

It was her tongue. There was a gash in it, and the area around it was swollen. All the events of what happened came back to him then, and he recalled what he'd done. They'd been making out, and he'd been sucking on her tongue as they both winded down. He recalled tasting a small hint of blood—one of his teeth must've nicked her tongue— and biting down, sucking greedily as her moans turned to screams.

He scowled at himself and he put his pants back on. He looked back at the corpse he was leaving behind; beautiful even in death. Steve grabbed his shirt in his hand and crawled out of the car, leaving the girl's body behind and disappearing back into the night where he belonged.

Darren scowled as he drew the drawstrings of his hoodie tighter so that it would obscure more of his face. He'd spent the past two weeks walking around his hometown aimlessly, milling between the townsfolk. Amazingly, nobody had recognized him yet. He'd even escaped recognition from his dad's friend, Chris Harkins! Last week, the officer had brushed right past him without even saying a word. Darren couldn't help but think about how right Mr. Crepsley had been about faking his death— it really was the only way to go. Nobody was expecting to see him, and so they didn't recognize the poor kid that had passed for dead.

Regardless, he couldn't help but let out a sad sigh as he wandered the streets. He hated wandering amongst people he knew—they all looked so much older, even though it had only been about a year since he'd left. The fact that he couldn't stop and talk to any of them didn't exactly help, either.

He scowled despite himself. He didn't even know what he was looking for! He'd never seen a vampaneze before. Why did Mr. Crepsley even bother to send him out? Did he honestly expect it to do any good whatsoever? How could he possibly be expected to find this mad vampaneze when he didn't even know what their people looked like? And if they were anything like vampires, he wouldn't even be able to tell the difference between him and the other townsfolk unless he looked at the scars on his hands.

Darren perked up a little at that. The other townsfolk! He'd known (or at least seen) probably about ninety percent of the population here. That would leave only… what, three hundred and fifty people to look through? He brightened at the idea. That would make his job exponentially easier.

Darren stopped his stride when he heard some kids near the middle school talking. He approached the trio and demanded, "What did you just say?"

The tallest of the three stared at Darren incredulously, sizing him up before deciding that he was safe and repeating: "I said that they found two cops dead in some girl's backyard. There was no blood left in the bodies."

Darren's blood went cold as a boy who looked much older than the others added coolly, "They have no clue who did it. Nobody lives there except some teenager. The cops were killed by getting their throats slit… Other than that and the lack of blood in their bodies, they had no injuries. They said that the wounds resemble that of a bear's claw, but that doesn't make sense because they didn't have any other signs of attack. There was no spilled blood or anything, either. But the weirdest part is that the only fingerprints on the guys were those of somebody who died almost four hundred years ago."

"How creepy is that?" the third kid, a boy with bright red eyes and white hair, demanded.

"They took in the girl who lived there in for questioning, but she's, like, mentally unbalanced or something. She just kept muttering about some guy named Johnny and how a kid named Steve saved her from him. And then she started freaking out about some guy named Murlough," the oldest one added.

"She's probably friggen insane," the albino one scoffed.

Darren stared intently at the older one who knew all of the facts. "Do you happen to remember the girl's name?" he asked urgently. The only thought he had was, Please don't be Mikey… Pleasepleaseplease let her be safe…

"I don't know… Something Freiland. They aren't letting most people know because she's under eighteen."

Darren's breath caught in his throat, and he sprinted over to Michaela's house.

Of course…

A/N: So, what'd I tell ya? Not that bad, right? But I would really appreciate a review or two because… well, I'm not so sure of how this came out. Writer's block and all. :D Thanks!