In the dead of the night, in the freezing cold of winter, I walk alone on the street, a bag in hand, using the small roads to avoid being seen. Something's been hunting me, I had disabled all the surveillance but I must have fucked up somewhere.
I haven't made any contact with Cass since she left school, hop into Alek's car. The idiot... I couldn't hear their conversation but she must have confronted him about it all. I watched from afar and she's still alive...
Vampires have their rules. One; You never tell anyone anyone about it. Two; If someone discovers you fix the mess immediately and quietly. Three; Never sire without permission in a claimed city.
Which means if someone finds out, they have to die. That how it works, that's how it has always worked. They've worked for a long time to become myths, especially with modern technology, they can't allow for even the smallest of screw-ups. Vamps are tough but explosive ammunition and grenades aren't things they can just shrug off.
Behind me comes the sound of light steps on the snow, barely audible. Like I learned to growing up, I let the blood inside of me rush from my heart to my brain, focusing on the parts relating to the senses.
It's no longer just one but three different people I hear now, keeping the exact same distance from me and staying hidden. I stop dead and they go quiet so I drop the bag of supplies next to me and out of my coat I take out a foot long bowie knife.
"Come out!" I yell defiantly into the night.
Three men carefully walked into my line of sight, keeping a few meters between us and forming a circle around me. Two white men in long coats and another Arabic looking man who hid his features under a hooded mantle, letting me only see the corner of his mouth.
"I don't know how you evaded our first trap. I guess you just had luck." Says one of the white men, standing taller than either of his buddies. His deep blue eyes catch mine for a second before I force myself to look away, staring at the man's nose instead.
"What is the black sheep of the Baldr doing here, Rorik?"
"You know my name. Impressive. You know more than I thought. You did a nice job disabling those bugs, too bad you couldn't do anything against my dear friend Amro.
I looked back at the Arabic man. My situation is pretty bad already, Tepes aren't that strong or fast, just about the equivalent of a professional athlete. Two of them, I could handle but three it's doubtful. Especially if he's a Lancea...
"Are we going to do this?" I taunt them, faking over confidence.
"We shall but first..." Rorik remarks amusingly. "Amro, if you please..."
I turned to the man again and he theatrically drew out a knife, applying it to his wrist and slicing a long cut down to the elbow, letting thick black blood pour onto the snow in slim tendrils.
"What the hell..." I mutter internally.
After a few seconds however the spilled blood rose from the ground and flew at me, the tendrils wrapping around me like ropes, making me stumble down, hitting my head on the pavement.