Everette:
I wait for her outside, long after the café closes, hardly inconspicuous, as I stand in the pouring rain with an umbrella overhead, next to a bus stop sign.
I don't care though.
It doesn't really matter if I'm seen. The whole world could notice me, even find out that I'm a vampire, and I'd still get away with killing her.
That's just the way the world works.
The humans naively believe that they rule the world, but what they don't know is that their politicians all work for us. We decide who lives and dies. We decide who deserves to be punished. We decide it all and give them the illusion of choice. They would be grateful if they knew, either that or scared out of their minds.
That might be more likely, but they should be grateful.
Without us, they'd destroy the planet and destroy each other. They thank the bloody politicians for the empty prisons, after all. What they don't know is that crime of any kind is a capital offence.
We kill, devour, and destroy anyone who breaks the law indiscriminately.
The humans don't realise, of course. They have no idea until they break the law themselves. By which point, it is simply too late.
We're the hidden elite, the people concealed behind the tinted windows of the expensive cars that the humans gawk at on the streets.
The list of the world's richest people is over ninety percent vampire. Occasionally, new money will rise up the ranks, but it's never long before they're turned. It only takes mingling amongst the world's elite once or twice to realise that nothing is as it seems and then there's no choice.
There's no going back.
You could say that there are two death sentences for the humans; crime and money. Both will get you killed. If becoming a vampire can really be called death.
Then there are the unlucky ones, those that run into a Royal like me. The only Vampires with the authority to feed as we wish, we are definitely the most dangerous for the humans.
Fortunately, we also tend to have better self-control than the younger ones. Although, we often choose not to use it.
Farah is one of those unlucky ones. I will bring her death; it's only a matter of time.
Farah:
It's dark when I leave work. I'm irritable as I pull my coat's hood over my head. I've lost my favourite book and now have nothing to read on the bus home.
Something across the road catches my eye and my heart pounds in my chest as I recognise the man there.
He's standing perfectly stock still and I think he's watching me. My fist clenches around my handbag as I begin to feel uncomfortable when he doesn't look away.
I'd felt him watching me earlier within the café, but I'd ignored it, just like I always ignore the others. Being watched and flirted with isn't new to me. The men that frequent the café do not seem to have the words 'sexual harassment' in their vocabulary.
But I'd never felt scared or unsafe with them, not the way I do now.
I consider hailing down a cab so that I can escape his attention, but a quick glance up and down the street tells me that I'd have to call one and that would mean waiting here longer.
My eyes returning to the man across the street, I see what he's holding. In fact, he's practically waving it at me teasingly, with a smirk on his face. I'm furious as I see my book in his hand.
It's reckless and probably the stupidest thing I've done in a long time. What's more, I know it, but that doesn't stop me. I step out onto the road and cross.
I want to know if he's the one that took my book.
I can feel my temper rising, my brows lowering. I'm glowering at him as I tell myself that I'm going to give him a proper rollicking.
Except I don't.
Words escape me when I'm standing directly in front of him. Perhaps it's fear that stops me from speaking. I'm tongue tied or something, completely incapacitated.
I want to run. I need to get away from him, but my feet won't move. I should be shouting at him and demanding that he return my book, but I can't.
My breath catches in my throat as he steps towards me. I'm not sure what I expect him to do. Attack me? What I don't expect is for him to move so that he can shelter me underneath his umbrella.
'Hello Farah.'
The tenderness in his voice surprises me. His tone is so divergent from the way his presence makes me feel. His voice makes me want to trust him, but everything else about him terrifies me. He's intimidating, scary even.
He steps closer again, and I feel an icy cold wash through me. I should run, run away from him as fast as I possibly can. But the glint in his eye tells me I won't get away. He'll catch me.
I don't know what he wants or what he plans to do to me, but I'm scared that whatever it is, I might just let him.