Eric

I first met Clara Andrews at the Giant's Causeway, in Northern Ireland. It was late, early two in the morning, the perfect time for me, as the sun was nowhere in sight. But it was a strange time for a human to be awake, especially in such a place. The Giant's Causeway lies on the northern coast of Ireland, a formation of numerous 
hexagonal columns formed from volcanic activity thousands of years ago, before vampires even roamed this earth. The legend was that a giant trying to reach his lover in Scotland had once built the causeway.

 Unlike the giant, I was not looking for my love but rather my food. I had not hunted for several days and the thirst was overwhelming now, although not enough to make me irrational. I had been looking to kill some helpless backpackers, not find this.... girl. My eyes picked her out instantly in the darkness; she was out on the rocks, an impressive camera in her hands, her eyes riveted on the ocean and the rocks, taking a few snaps. I was surprised but pleased to find such easy prey; one easy bound and I would snap her neck and sate my thirst. I prepared to do just this, moving over the rocks with no sound, a predator that had perfected silence years ago.

I was barely two feet away from her when the ocean wind blew, sending the girl's dark hair fluttering. A smell invaded my senses that was so potent it practically knocked me off my feet. It was not an unpleasant smell, nor a wonderful smell. Rather, it was a smell much like blood, overwhelming and irresistible, running through this girl's veins as the blood did. Every human had a unique smell, but none had ever overpowered the smell of blood, until now. Why did this smell make me stop? I should have already been feasting on her.

Then a horrifying thought came to me; this smell reminded me of the ancient stories of soul mates. The person who you were destined to be with. Legend told us that this person, be it man or woman, had a smell that would haunt us, mesmerize us, control us. I had always believed these stories to be utter rubbish; there was no such thing as destiny. At least, that's what I had believed until I smelt Clara.

And while I stood gaping at her, acting like some undignified smitten human, Clara had turned around, as I had not ripped her apart. She screamed, reasonably startled to see some man right beside her in the middle of the night. She jerked away, her eyes wide with fear. It was then that I knew; I could never kill this girl, she was mine. My soul mate.

 " Forgive me." I said quickly, backing away slightly to give her space. "I didn't mean to startle you. I must admit I was not expecting to meet someone here at this hour." Clara took a moment to compose herself, visibly doing so. She slowly shook her head, although her eyes were still narrowed in suspicion. Good, I thought. She was smart then.

 "It’s  fine...I didn't hear you come up."

" It 's a little late for photography, don't you think?" Clara shook her head, carefully placing her camera back into its case.

"I'm on a freelance assignment. Nighttime is one of the best times to photograph the causeway. I have special permission...oh, were you wanting to see my pass?" she asked, concern a lighting in her eyes. I shook my head, smiling 
gently. 

"No, no, I'm just a hiker, out for a stroll. You’re right, it is quite 
beautiful this time of night." but if I had to be truthful, I could care less about the Causeway; I was referring to her beauty, and her smell. " You're American, obviously... So far from home." Clara smiled in amusement.

" Not really. I've travelled a lot, this is nothing new. But you're not Irish." she concluded, not a hint of doubt in her voice. And she was correct, I was not Irish. I was English, originally 
from London. Of course my accent had given me away, as years travelling could not disguise my upbringing.

 “Very good, you’re correct. I’m British, but I’m sure you already figured that out.”

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