Chapter 2

The first sliver of light crept through my black out curtains at around 6:20am. After two centuries, it seemed natural to be in darkness. But unlike other phantoms of the night there was one thing that made me special.

Slowly, I let my hand slide into the light. A slight tingle was all I felt. With that reassurance I performed every morning, I slide the curtains apart with a flurry, greeting the morning light. The sun burst into my room, making me shiver with delight, almost giddy with exhilaration. A light knock sounded and I call out, 'Come on in Helga.'

She shuffles in and says in that wonderful grandmother tone, which still held a bit of her mother tongue German, 'Nina were you up again all night! You really should sleep, burning the candles at both ends won't help.'

I chuckle and come over. My hunger was getting worse to the point I could see the pulse in Helga's neck. Blinking away my instinct to lunge, I grab the coffee from the tray and morning paper. Headlines read of the night club. 'Three dead after Gang related Violence.' If only humankind knew how true it was, but on a much larger and deadlier scale.

'Dear, are you alright?'

I look down at Helga. She was a small 5'2" to my 5'9" and I ask with a frown, 'What do you mean?'

'Your hand is shaking,' she says, pointing her arthritic hand at it.

Sure enough, my hand holding the coffee shook slight. Laughing, I say trying to keep it light for her sake, 'I guess I had a few too many drinks last night.'

Helga shakes her head and mumbles as she leaves, 'These kids today don't know anything about moderation at all. It makes me...'

She had shut the door at that and I only smile affectionately at her. In a couple of years I wouldn't be at this place and she would be left with a handsome retirement fund I had set up nearly seven years ago.

Every ten to twenty years I moved. This time I was Nina Simmons, a power house stock broker with my own company. It was true I had the company, but I always re-inheritated it as a 'next' generation every thirty years or so. I was in my ninth year as Nina Simmons. However my real name was only known to myself now.

I was born in 1784, during the reign of Queen Victoria. My father was a well-to-do Duke and I was up to inheritage the estate. My name was Natasha Coleville, named after my great aunt of Russian decent. I was seventeen when my father announced I was to wed a Count who had good connections in the fields my father was interested. As for myself, it was a betrayal. I wanted nothing more than to explore the world, see India, Africa, the America's but with that one edict by my father, I knew my life was over.

I still remember the day like a well watched movie. Running from the house, jumping upon my famous filly Listra and riding to the creek deep in the forest of my father's land. I remember crying deep wrenching cries as I rode Listra like we w're racing against Death itself.

Getting to the creek, I stopped my filly and slide from her bare back and sat by the stream, letting the tears fall. It was the most devastating thing to have happened to me in my young life. My father had put so many dreams into my head, promised me so many things, all for not. I had been a virtual prisoner of my father's estate since my mother's passing at my birth. All my friends had had coming out parties and I still lay in the mystic forests of my father, like a nymph awaiting sunlight. Now I was being plunged into darkness.

'Why do you cry, my lady?'

The second I heard those words my life would forever be altered. I remember looking up and seeing the most handsome man I had ever met. His presence bespoke rank and power. He wore fine clothing with a ivory cane in his hand. It took me time to compose myself and wipe the tears from my face. I was thoroughly embarrassed at being seen in such a state. But answer him, 'A moment of weakness, my lord.'

The flash of his smile almost unhinged me into wondering if he would be my husband to be. But he said, 'Crying isn't a weakness, but strength leaking from ones eyes. Pray forgive me, I must make amends for frightening you. Let me introduce myself. My name is Nicholi Borchenski from Russia.'

I would never forget that name, or the rich accent that bespoke them. After that day I went back repeatatively to see him, talking about many things. He would always ask me if he could see me again the next day, as if thirsting for my presence.

A sudden ringing from my cellphone brought me back to the present, to a much wiser age, and I grab for it. The sharp smell of blood made me turn to the doorway where Helga had recently vacated. The phone still ringing as I dart into the kitchen where I knew Helga would be. Sure enough there she was, placing a paper towel over a bleeding finger.

A shiver went through me as Helga asks, 'Are you going to answer that?'

A deep rumbling growl gnawed at my insides, but I surpressed it and answer the call with a sharp, 'What?'

It was Jerry, my loyal assistant who had been with me for four years, 'Well someone got up on the wrong side of the coffin today.'

He didn't know I was a vampire, but said I was as cold as a corpse and from then on the words stuck, as well an array of others, including zombie girl, devil, and so forth. Letting out a sigh as I watch Helga move around the kitchen, retrieving the first aid kit, and Neosporin, 'Sorry Jerry, what's the news..'

I was only half listening as I watch Helga bandage her finger. She turns and asks, 'Do you need something, some mixed fruit for breakfast?'

I knew I'd been staring too long and my throat clamped as I looked at the band-aid. It was a small cut, and I knew only my hunger was making me stay rooted to the spot. I shake my head and force myself to move away from the room, back to my large office in my penthouse suite. Jerry asks, 'So thoughts boss?'

'Call Kevin from marketing and then call Lewis Son's about writing up a contract, I'll talk with Berkawitz today about the possible merger.'

'Got it boss. See you in the office today?'

He knew the answer as I snort. He says, 'Got it, AWOL today again.'

'Always.'

With that he clicks off and I place the phone on the desk. My hands were shaking terribly. The longest I had gone without blood was two weeks, and I was on week three now. I was stretching it and I knew I'd snap. Snapping for a vampire is something even other vampires can't stand to see. They are the most animalistic, loose their sanity, and become what others of our species call a ghoul. No longer can they call themselves vampires, as all reason has left them.

These ghoul would attack anything that moved and not just drink their blood, but eat the meat of the ones they ravage. It wasn't something anyone, much less a vampire, should see. It happened often in the civil war of the US so long ago. I had been there to see it and had worked hard to not become it.

I had to feed tonight, or forfeit my sanity.