Thread: Creature of the Night (PatientOne & MetalMelissa)

The rejection was sobering. The older vampire's stoic, matter-of-fact demeanour brought her back down to earth, and after her brief delirium everything seemed real again, at least in a material sense. She was in the strange hotel room, and she was looking up at the man who had fed her what he claimed was blood of some non-human variety. Its coppery taste still lingered at the back of her mouth, and whatever it was it had certainly sated her hunger. She wondered what it was but spoke no more instead she cautiously sat upright, and blinking she slid back an inch or two from her companion. For a moment she wondered who he really was, where he came from, what he did by dayor by night, presumably. Her familiarity with popular fiction had thus far inhibited her from discovering the true effects of the sun on her kind prolonged periods in the light would weaken her, but she wouldn't petrify and flake away into ashes like innumerable representations of Count Dracula. She wondered too what he intended to do with her, and when, but her wariness was such that she was quick to take advantage of him letting her leave. She nodded a series of short, quick nods, and with caution still marking her every move she stood and moved towards the door, at all times facing him and keeping her distance. In the hallway her pace quickened, and by the time she made it to the hotel lobby she was running. Out into the street she went, raven locks streaming behind her, taking care not to lose her balance or step too violently into a crack or crevice that might break a heel and then her ankle. By the time she came to a stop she was two blocks away, out of breath from fear or exertion. She turned a corner and squared her back to the wall, closed her eyes and let her head lean back against the stoney surface behind her. What the fuck was that?! Since the change she had feared herself more than any other, but now she had undeniable proof that there were others in the world to be feared more than sheif indeed her own perception of reality could be trusted. Tonight wasn't the first time she'd questioned her own sanity, and she doubted it would be the last. Human minds are often too fragile to comprehend the existence of vampires, and this in part was why they went to such lengths to keep their existence a secret, and to ensure that humans were not turned without due care and good reason. Whatever about the creature she had become, Aurelia Krupskaya the human was by now fit for an indefinite stay in a psychiatric ward. Of course, if she were to check herself in and tell the doctors of vampires and teleportation she would never be let out. Over the course of the next hour she wandered aimlessly through the city, and by the time she decided what must be done she had gravitated towards her apartment on Via Cappella Bianca. Keeping one eye out for any policeman who might show an interest in her, she crept inside and rooted out a suitcase, proceeding to pack it with some of the more nondescript items of clothing that the police had refrained from taking from her drawers and wardrobe. Next she went back to the scene of her last murder, the apartment on Via Pratese where she hoped to find a few more of her belongings, and more importantly what cash she had remaining. A foul smell greeted her when she entered, and flies buzzed around the corpse of her fifth victim where she'd left it slumped in the corner. She should really have been more diligent when it came to the disposal of bodies, but it was difficult to find a place to dump them in the city, and without a car she had no clandestine means of transporting them from one location to another. Moreover, her thoughts had not been so clear over the past fortnight as to breed discretion. Gathering her things and stuffing them into the briefcase, she counted out her money and returned to the street, locking the door behind her again. The body would be found soon, no doubt, but by then she would be long gone. To where she knew not, nor with what goal. The only thing she knew was that she had to get away from Firenze, and away from whatever unknown it was that Alexander wished to drag her into. More than him, it was the not knowing that scared her. Across the street, two pale, amber-coloured eyes watched the young vampire leave the apartment building, clad now in snug-fitting jeans and flat-soled shoes, her fur-lined jacket closed around her feminine figure. Even from a distance their owner could tell that she was unsettled, and those eyes narrowed at the sight of the briefcase. The one sent to see to her had let his guard down, and now she was fleeing. Perhaps this was a sign that the Shade vampire was tiring of routine, or that his mind was elsewhere. The watcher could only hope. Once the Cappella Bianca Ripper had rounded a corner and disappeared from sight, the watching figure glanced left and right, saw that the streets were empty, and dropped five stories to the path below. Heavy boots slammed against the pavement but their owner made no utterances of pain, instead simply making their way across the street to carve a single word into the door through which Aurelia had left. The letters were small but legible, and once they had been inscribed the watcher turned to follow the young vampire as she made her way by foot to the bus station. By midnight she would be on her way out of Firenze, and it would be up to Alexander Night to track her down once more. If he happened to check the location of the fifth murder before leaving the city, he would find his own surname carved into the door. Come daybreak the following morning, the headlines in all the papers read Ripper Strikes Again . The body of Aurelia's fifth victim had been discovered.