30 Nights

2

EDRIC

No-one ever tells you that being immortal is going to be so damn dull. Nothing but rules and paperwork. At least ever since I became the gamemaster anyway. We all have to take a turn doing it, and it's my decade. Why we have to keep up this stupid charade anyway. Sometimes I wish I could just pack a vat of blood and hide out in the jungle or something.

But of course, things didn't work out so well the last time I ran away.

A knock on the door irritates me, what is it now? I swear some of these newbie vamps wouldn't last a day by themselves, and supposedly they represented the best and brightest of humanity.

"Enter," I command.

A door creaks open slowly. Everything creaks in this place. I was sick of being underground in these cold stone crypts. I may not need heat to survive but it was certainly more pleasurable.

"Er, Sir Edric, the final preparations are underway."

"And what's wrong?" I snap.

"What makes you think something is wrong, sir?"

"You wouldn't be bothering me if everything was okay, would you?"

"Well, we are having a slight problem with one of the er, participants. Restraining him has been problematic."

"You don't say. You do realise you are a vampire right? Blessed with immortal strength?"

"Well, er, yes but you said they cannot be killed yet, not until the full moon rises."

I sigh. If you wanted something doing...

"It's not a surprise really, is it. What human gladly goes along willing to its death? Survival is in the human DNA. It's in ours. I have no desire for my food to be distressed or tortured. We're not barbarians. Sedate him, knock him out, do what needs to be done."

"But Edric,"

"Sir to you, now leave," I say slamming my fist down on the desk. I see the splinters crackle across its surface. The newbie scuttles out. I'm getting restless and edgy. It's always this way at the full moon, it's worse the older we get. It won't be long now. This feasting once a month is getting tiresome too.

I wonder which of the participants it is, I can't remember their names. But they came into this willing and they knew the risks, knew the odds. It was a game I disliked, but I could see its uses. It kept a balance. We provided a fair chance for talented and willing humans to join us, if they made it through the trials then they were truly worthy of being one of us. Most weren't.

My father saw the games as evolution - there was a certain amount of change that was required to survive as one of us. So the humans were not merely hunted, there was a chance for them to adapt, and we got to eat. And our existence remained a secret. Because despite our talents, humans outnumbered us greatly. And they were unlike any other prey on this planet, they were predators too and there are some things that even we cannot survive. No the games had to stay, they have served us well these last few centuries.

A bang and some shouting rouses me. In seconds I am out of my office and in the cells, where one of the cell door's is hanging open and one of the newbie vampire guards is lying stunned on the floor. Idiot. I can hear a heartbeat getting closer to the door to the staircase that opens into the crypt. A few more steps and he will reach the top and be outside. I see the other guards finally start to scramble in pursuit.

"Back," I yell, pushing past them. I am up the stairs and I can smell the night air, fresh, alive, and the man is there pushing open the crypt door, stepping into the moonlight, so close to freedom, calling for help.

Snap.

I do it quickly and in a second he is on the ground. My hunger stirs, fresh blood getting cold, it shouldn't go to waste but then I stop when I see her.

She isn't looking at me, her eyes are fixed on the dead man on the ground. I take a step closer. I wonder for a moment if I've been inside the crypts so long I am hallucinating. I have never seen a human look quite like her before. Her skin is white, almost as white as mine, her hair is white, even her eyebrows and eyelashes are white. It's been snowing outside, a rare snow storm in London and her whole body is coated with little flecks of white dust.

I'm not even certain she is human but I can hear her heart. And I can see the faintest and palest flush to her cheeks. I take another step closer and now her eyes focus on me, straining, trying to see me I think, trying to work out what I am. There are thick glasses in the way and I take them off so I can see her pale eyes clearly.

I smooth the hair out of her face, feel the warmth in her cheeks, in her breath. And it might be the full moon and my bloodlust, but her scent is exquisite, so delicate, so alluring, I wonder if she is an angel sent to strike me down.

"Are you real?" I whisper. She look so beautiful, as pale as the snow.

Then I hear footsteps nearby and the spell is broken. I remember who I am, where I am and as quick as gust of wind, I place her over my shoulder, pick up the dead man and dive back into the crypt sealing the stone door shut behind me.