She tried to scream but I darted to her, using my advanced speed as an advantage. My hand covered her mouth.
"I'm not going to hurt you," I said. "I promise."
She relaxed and I took my hand away. She looked at me in fear and awe.
"It's you," she murmured again. "Green-eyed girl."
"What?" I asked, positively confused.
"The statue. It's a statue of a girl with emeralds for eyes. The plaque says it's been there for centuries, erected by Lord Pendle in memory of his green-eyed daughter who went missing in the night. People still talk about her. Some say vampires, some say fairies, most simply say that she run away from her fiancé."
"Eryk Harwood was never my fiancé!" I exclaimed.
"So itisyou. Demon," she muttered again.
"I'm not a demon," I objected, glaring at her, "I'm dead."
"If you're not a demon, what are you?"
"Coming back was a mistake." I turned around and started walking.
She grabbed my wrist. I spun and slapped her weakly. She dropped my wrist and stared, afraid once again.
"Vampyre," I hissed. "And Eryk Harwood was not my fiancé. Just because he was going to ask my father, doesn't mean he did. Thankfully. Eryk, that stuck up little snob."
I turned and headed to the other side of town, where the cemetery used to be and hopefully still would be. The woman followed me, at a safe distance. The rusty cemetery gates stood proud and tall as they always had. The gates lay open and there was no watchman, which came as a surprise; there had always been a watchman.
I walked through the iron gates and headed for the mausoleum. I stood in front of the building, it was relatively small and the stone walls were covered with moss. The door was locked as it always should be. The only remaining key hung from a silver chain around my neck. I pulled the chain off and slid the key into the lock. It clicked and the doors swung open.
"Good to see they didn't change the locks," I murmured.
I stepped in and the woman followed me, I didn't look at her. I didn't need to. I could hear her clumsy footsteps on the stone. The building was virtually empty, save a laid table. My family were always superstitious. They thought the dead rose again at night. In my case, they were right.
A heavy wooden door stood in the corner, like always. It was impossible to see unless you knew where it was. I walked to it and slid my hand down the oak wood; it was still polished and smooth. I pushed it open and it swung silently. The steps were dark; the torches had gone outquitea while ago. They still hung off the walls, they just weren't lit.
I didn't need the torch but it was a nice feeling, it reminded me of the many times I'd visited my dead grandparents in my childhood – back when I was alive. I got the lighter out of my pocket and smiled, I'd forgotten about it when Bronwyn was lighting fires when we'd arrived in the woods.
The flame sprouted from the metal and flickered. I held it to the torch and it caught easily. I let the lighter go out and put it back in my pocket. I picked the torch up and lit the others on my way down. The spiral stair case came to an end inside the crypt, where all of my family lay. I dipped the torch into the tray of oil that went around the room. I placed the torch in a metal ring on the wall, designed to hold them.
In the middle of the room was a pillar with my name on it, and my birth date. There was no death date. They didn't know whether I'd been taken away by fairies or I'd run away. For all they knew, I could have been eaten by the wolves that lived in the forest.
"Is that you Blaze?" asked a familiar voice.