Waiting for my Mate

Chapter 4

There was blood under my feet, I could feel the warm liquid between my toes. The splash as I took a step slowly moving myself for the room. I could see every detail, a speck of dust that was floating six feet away from me, the swirls of the wooden table, the dew dripping off the long blades of grass. I could hear the screaming and yelling coming closer as I looked at the scene from the mirror I was staring at.

The picture of silence, a young girl torn limb from limb, the pool of blood surrounding her and the man's courpse. I had met him once in this small town, Frankfurt, that would one day be the heart of tourism in Germany. I hadn't thought anything of him at the time and never again after I passed him on the street, not even the odd dresswear he had choosen in the hot summer day.

I hadn't been the prettiest girl in the town, but I did recieve a lot of attention from the male population. Perhaps that's why I saw nothing wrong. I had the 'street' smarts, lacking in book smarts maybe, but there wasn't anything that set off a warning that I was in harm. I should have known, I should have seen the warning signs. I could feel myself being followed, watched, but everytime I turned around or glanced around there was nothing.

That feeling vanished momentarily when I had met me friends, two of the girls I had grown up with. We spent the day shopping, walking and gossiping. We talked about the boys we had crushes on and who'd we marry, too bad for me I wouldn't live in that bliss for long. The boy I liked then was also named Seth, an odd name at the time, but compelling to me. He had blonde hair and blue eyes, the picture of German 'perfection'.

We had met Seth and his friends while we were walking home. They seemed out of sorts, not their usual selves. They had trouble standing up straight, lacked their mannerisms, and looked a mess as well as smelling like rotting food. They slurred their words as they attempted to speak to us, constantly losing their train of thought and starting a new conversation.

"Are you guys okay?" one of my friends asked.

"I...lassie..." One of the boys stumbled in a poorly construded scottish accent.

I pulled my friends by their elbows away from the boys, alcohol wasn't as common as it is now, but it was well known. Their behavior acted as if they were drunk, but when my daddy came home he didn't act like that. This wasn't being drunk, this was something else.

Although, the boys didn't like it when we tried to escape. They each grabbed us either by our long hair, the hem of our dresses or just by our arms. Our screams peirced the cool night air, not that it helped us. I could hear my friends screaming and pleading for them to stop. I was blinded by the searing hot pain all over my body but mostly in btween my legs, I couldn't even move. The scream only stopped once they were dead, a sickening crack, from what I'm not certain. One of the girls had her neck snapped, probably from the struggle, she was always the strongest of our group. The others had blood surrounding them.

The scene was blurred further, as a man stepped forward, sent the boys away and looked at us. I could see his silloette, never his face. I tried to clear my vision as the man checked on my friends, I heard him mutter but not what he said. When he finally came to me, he could see I was still alive and gave me one sentence.

"You'll thank me for this later."

The next thing I knew, I was in the basement of an older house. Surrounded by cold stone floors and walls. The girl sprawlled out on the floor with her legs and arms cut, letting a little blood seep through the wounds. Her brown hair was a matted mess and her clothes in tatters, barely enough there to cover her mid thigh -- at the time that's being trampy. I could still, by straining, remember talking to her.

"Are you okay?" I had recoiled momentarily, my voice foriegn to me.

She never answered my questions, so I had decided to take her to the clinic and hope they could help her. The stairs were wooden, corse under my barefeet. What happened to my shoes? Was I wearing shoes? I looked momentarily at my dress. What about my dress? I was in a different dress, not the same baby blue one but a black one. Was I in mourning?

The second I stepped through the door from the basement I heard a harsh voice, yelling at me in multiple different languages that I didn't understand. Celtic, Russian, English, Spanish and a few I will never hear again.

When he finally got to German he asked, "Where are going with our dinner?"

"I'm taking her to the clinic, she's hurt." I didn't even register that he had called this girl in my arms dinner. When I did, I wondered how I able to carry her. Why does she feel so light? I shouldn't be able to care this girl so easily.

"She's your dinner."

"I'm not eating her!"

"You don't eat her! You drink her blood so you can live!"

"I'm no vampire!" He took the young girl from my arms, took a bite from her neck and I watched, stunned, as his complexion changed from a death-like white to a sun tanned tone and his eyes went from red to green.

He dropped the girl on the floor, like a rag doll she just hit the floor with a thud. He proceeded to rip her limb from limb obviously annoied that I wasn't doing what he wanted. I felt my stomach retch, and I gagged on the floor.

He lunged at me, angry. That's when the fight ensued. He grabbed me and tried to snap my neck, but I bucked him off me by hitting his nose with the back of my head. We fought extensively but eventually I got the better of him and ripped him to pieces like he had done to the girl. Then drank his blood as revenge when I got up I stared at the mirror in front of me. I watched as my complextion turned fair and my eyes reverted back to blue from the vivid red they had been once before.

I had become the monster in all the childrens nightmares.

That's when the rioting caught my attention, they were about three miles from me, coming with a large group of towns people. But I couldn't tear my eyes away from the mirror, focused on the girl that was staring back at me. The blood dripping from the corners of my mouth and the scene behind me in the mirror. Everything in my memeory before I woke up downstairs becoming gradually hazy and unrecallable, but this would never be forgotten.

I had lost track in my thoughts and unnoticed the burning house until it touched my arm. I ran, faster than anyone I've ever seen before, out of the house. Catching the attention of many people, screaming 'monster, monster'.

I had stayed around town, I had nowhere else to go, and I had things to take care of. I watched my two friends, their names now blurred from my mind but I knew who they were, and my own funeral. There was a lot tears, sorrowful speeches and lots of people -- isn't that what people want at their funeral?

I had met others of my type, that were just trying to live with the people they once did. Out of manners they shook my hand and that's when I found my power. I could take others powers, the first one I took helped me blend in. They could change their appearence, but only their hair and eye color. Teleportation was amoung the few that I gathered up in my early days, still my favorite. I waited until night, attempting to blend in during the day, for my revenge.

I found Seth and his friends that had tortured and killed my friends. They were less than thrilled to see me. I showed them who I truely was while I killed them, and gave them to my new friends. I had them tortured, cut and let them wallow in their pain -- I refused to let death come quickly to them. Their pain was only eased after the vampires had their fill of blood and we dumped them into the center of town and I left -- never looking back.

The memoies of my previous life had left me, except in my unconsience mind. I had lived in Europe for over twenty years, living in Paris. Seeing both of the world wars and the construction of the eiffle tower, until I felt a push to travel to America. At first the thought was repulsive, I had heard their food was disgraceful to those they tried to copy, everyone was fat from not needed to work and they had an such a complex legal system it made since why murders walked free.

But the pull was so strong that I left, and decided to start from the South and work my way North until I found a place to live or felt I had to be. I had started in Florida, then slowly moved up the coast until I walked into Canada and stayed.

I learned that I would have a deep love with a werewolf, and ever since this has been my home and I wouldn't leave.