---

 

He moved towards the sobbing he had heard and it sounded as if the person doing it was wrenching out her guts.

“Hey.” He announced himself without getting too close and noted that she was naked. “What happened, are you hurt?”

“No.” The girl answered faintly. “Not hurt, not physically.”

“You need help?”

“NO!” She seemed to recoil at his offer, moving deeper into the alley and waving him away. “Stay away from me!”

“I'm no threat, girl.” Zack shrugged and spread his arms with hands wide open to show that he meant no harm. “Only trying to help here.”

“No one can help.” She moaned softly. “It's too late for that.”

“Never too late.” Zack countered. “A really good friend I hardly knew taught me that a while back. You live with what you did wrong and move on, try to do right or the best you can.”

“I don't know what I did that was wrong!” She shot back, then shook as she seemed to force herself to stand up. “But look at me! I'm a monster!”

“Depends on what you call a monster.” He answered while taking her in with all her pale skinned glory with the tangle of white hair and eyes so white they had to be blind even if they did track every motion he made. “I've seen real monsters, girl. And every one of them looked pretty normal on the outside, and not one of them admitted to being what they were.”

“Look at me!” She demanded.

“Not hard to do, I'll admit.” Zack grinned then shook his head. “Girl, in this neighborhood, you wouldn't even attract that much attention. You'd blend in if you were careful.”

“I've killed people!” She shot back.

“Lady, just about anyone in this neighborhood could say that, or that they tried at least once. Hell, I know people who would kill you for your pocket change and not even worry about it. Or they did it to protect themselves or someone they cared for. It's a nasty world, and a person does what they have to do to survive.”

“But...”

“C'mon.” Zack took off his ragged coat and draped it around her shoulders. “I've never seen a monster naked and shivering all balled up on itself in some nasty alley. Let's get you inside where it's dry and warm, get you some clothes, and we'll go from there. Okay?”

She didn't argue and let him lead her out of the alley.

I don't understand. I'm a monster, a freak that anyone could see just by looking at me. But this man shrugged that off, put his coat around me when I know it's cold, and was taking me home with him, or at least to somewhere he frequented.

He was determined to help me even if I felt as if I didn't deserve that. I could have killed him in the space between seconds, if I wanted to. He wasn't unaware of the danger, but chose to ignore it. For my sake.

For my sake.

Not to make himself feel better for helping someone, just to help.

“You don't know what I am.” I told him as he guided me through alleys and streets that seemed uncomfortably familiar even if I didn't recall them.

“I know you're in trouble, and you need some help.” He shrugged, shivering from the cold I didn't feel because he'd given me his coat. The coat wasn't the reason, I just didn't feel the cold. At all. But the giving had been important to him, so I let it go.

Let it go? What is with me? I know I'm dangerous, I know someone is hunting me, and that I have killed. I have no right to 'let' anything go right now.

“I don't know what I did.” I told him honestly. “I don't know what was done to me.

“But hiding me could be dangerous for you.” I went on.

“Wouldn't be the first time.” He shrugged and grinned at me. He had a nice smile, too. “I'm Zack.”

“I don't even know my own name.” I told him. “They called me Zephyr, but that wasn't my name.”

“Then we'll figure out a name you like.” He answered. “After all, we can't keep calling 'Hey you! White girl!' every time we want your attention can we?”

“No.” I actually chuckled at that one and couldn't recall the last time I'd seen humor in anything. “I guess not.”

“C'mon White Girl.” He grinned at me again as we stopped in front of a dilapidated door. “Let's get inside.”

Hines

Hines sat in chair in his own office, facing his superior who was seated at the desk he was used to being behind with people in this office. The man was still going through files, looking at graphs and projections that speculated about and tried to predict the future.

“Just what the Hell are you doing here, Hines?” His boss questioned after another ten minutes of scanning files.

“Long story, sir.” He answered, afraid that his project would be shut down out of hand. “I can give you some perspective to go with what you've been reading and looking at there.”

“Justifying illegal experiments, and then letting one of those experiments slip your leash?” The man asked with deceptive mildness.

“Yes sir, on the 'experiments' anyway.” Hines grimaced. “Zephyr getting loose wasn't anticipated and we had all security measures the protocols demand in place when that happened.”

“Cut the shit, Hines.” His boss answered flatly. “You let something very dangerous get out of this facility, and I want to know why you even thought it would be safe to create something like that in the first place.”

“We didn't create her.” Hines answered slowly. “We woke her up, and she would have been out there, loose, without anyone being the wiser within a few years if my people hadn't found her host and awakened her.”

“That has something to do with this 'new type of energy' all these reports are talking about?”

“Yes sir.” Hines answered carefully. “This new energy was detected about five years ago, but it had been around and growing for years before that. We can measure it, to a point, so we know it's growing in strength all the time. Not much yet, but soon the increase will become exponential, and that could be disastrous for all of us.”

“A new source of energy?” His boss asked. “A disaster for everyone? I would think it would be a godsend.”

“It might be.” Hines nodded. “But it refuses to be manipulated in the usual ways, and is having some side effects throughout the world even now.”

“Side effects?” The man behind the desk sighed, and asked. “How so?”

“You've read the reports.” Hines shook his head. “We have documented proof, from more than one source and the ones we use aren't cranks or mental cases. We have information from a lot of people who have been trusted for their honesty and accurate observations about these things.”

“People crack, you know that.”

“But people from all over the world?” Hines persisted. “All within a few years and all their observations coming from after that new energy was discovered?”

“That would be a big series of coincidences.” The other nodded without looking down at the files. “But you still have a hard sell going here Hines. I'm waiting to be convinced.”

Hines stood then moved to the other side of the desk to pull up a file on his computer. “Documented evidence from the Middle East of creatures who call themselves Djinn and seem to be able to alter just about anything they please. One of these things totally wiped out a fairly powerful circle of men who did use what they called magic. I know our organization is aware of them and the things they could do. Well they're gone now, thanks to this new being.

“Sightings of things the locals describe as Fae, Legendary Elves or Sidhe, if you prefer, Pixies and other things in North America, Northwest Europe, England, Ireland and Scotland.” Hines brought up another file for his boss to examine.

“A firebird, or close to it in New Mexico, a feathered serpent in Mexico City, Something in Japan people are calling a Kami and actually worship, rumors from Russia and Eastern Europe about people encountering things from their mythology.

“Sir,” Hines softly said as his boss went through the files, “I believe this new energy IS magic and that its resurgence is awakening these things and they are even now running loose in the world.”

“These sources are verifiable?” The other asked.

“Of course they are.” Hines snorted. “These are incidents that can't possibly be explained by any known means and we have weeded out the cranks and obviously mistaken reports. These are genuine, sir.”

“And that's your justification for this project.”

“Yes!” Hines let his passion show in that one word then calmed himself. “Sir, the magic, or whatever you choose to call it is growing and with it the number of these incidents. If the increase in both the magic and these beings keeps going the world is going to full of creatures — beings that are capable of doing a lot of harm to humanity.

“If we can learn about them now, before things get too bad, we can find what they are, what they are able to do, how to counter them, deal with them, or even kill them if it comes to that.” Hines continued. “If we don't have that information I don't believe there's much hope for human civilization as we know it to continue, and humanity could well become extinct.”

“A compelling argument.” The other nodded. “I want copies of all this stuff and I'll boot it upstairs, along with your own personal assessments and those of your staff. Have them ready for me in twenty-four hours.”

“Of course, sir.”

“And Hines?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Neutralize this monster that got away from you.” The man ordered. “If you don't some powerful people won't be happy with me and I'll be sure to send them to you.”

“I understand, sir.” Hines nodded while wishing he dared pull out his handkerchief to mop his forehead. “She won't be that difficult to find once she starts feeding.”

“You'd better hope your people find it before that starts.” The other said with quiet finality. “If this gets into the public eye, the blame for the general panic in the population is going to land right on your back.”

And put an end to his project, Hines knew. All he could do was nod in acknowledgment while wishing this self important ass would get out of his office so he could actually start getting things done.

I let him lead into the place.

It wasn't all that wonderful, but it was warm, and fires in trashcans I saw told me why that was.

“I'm dangerous to be around.” I told him, trying to get away from all the Humanity, the things that I'd lost, I got flogged with once I'd entered the place.

“Aren't we all?” He answered quietly.

“Not like me.” I countered, shivering again at the fragmented memories that wouldn't leave me alone.

“Listen to me.” Zack put his hands on my shoulders, gently but with enough firmness to get my attention. I had to quell the almost automatic urge to remove them. “And look at me when I say this, please.”

Pulling in a long, deep breath, I looked up into his face and nodded.

“Good.” He smiled and nodded in his turn. “You're scared, running from something — someone, naked and alone in the dead of winter. Have I got things right so far?”

I nodded slowly.

“You say you're a monster, and true enough, you do look a little freaky, but you've done not one thing since I first saw you that shows me that might be true. You were curled up a ball crying so hard I thought you were going to hiccup your stomach out in that alley. You didn't automatically try to kill me, or anyone we walked by while I was getting you here, now did you?”

“N-no.” I agreed then clarified that. “But I've had to hold myself back. The impulses I get are to do just what you said I haven't.”

“But you haven't, you control those impulses, don't you?”

“Right now, yes.” I had to nod. “But I can't promise that will keep being the case when I really start to get hungry.”

“We can make sure you don't go hungry.” He assured me.

“You don't understand.” I answered as my fangs descended. “It isn't normal food I need. It's blood.”

 

---

 

He looked at the fangs, yes fangs, the girl was showing even while trying to keep her mouth tightly closed to hide them and backed a step away. Then stopped. And took the biggest chance of his life.

“If you need blood that bad, here it is.” He told her, rolling up a sleeve and offering his wrist, then tilted his head so his neck was exposed. “Or is this more to your liking? All I ask is one promise out of you first.”

“A promise?” She questioned, puzzled by his apparent fearlessness.

“That's right.” He nodded then waved to the other people in the area, most who were already watching the tableau in mixed confusion and fright. “I brought you here, so I'll pay the price if I was wrong about you. But when you finish me, promise that you'll leave and not touch the others in here. They don't deserve to die because I might have been stupid.”

“You would die to keep them safe?” She asked in something like wonder and shook her head. “Why?”

“Let's just say that someone once saved me from a slow death, I'm passing it forward and leave things at that, all right?”

“You are a very brave man.” She answered slowly then added. “But also very foolish.”

“Sometimes it takes a fool to do the right thing.” He shrugged. “Your promise?”

“It won't be needed.” She closed her eyes and visibly fought her urges back so hard her whole body shook with the effort. “You and yours are safe from me, and will stay that way. That is my promise to you, and them.”

“Thank you.” Zack let out an audible sigh and managed a smile. “As for blood, does it have to be human?”

“I don't know — again.” Zephyr answered with frustration showing in her tone and staccato answer.

“Well, then, come on in and we'll see if we can't find you an alternative.”

“If we can't?”

“We'll worry about that when it comes up, but there are solutions even then.” He tilted his head as he shook it. “Let's not get too worried about that until it becomes really critical, okay?”

“Why do I trust you, Zack?” She asked as he turned to lead her farther inside.

“I have a nice smile and a winning personality?” He grinned.

“Damned fool.” She shook her head while saying that.

“Yeah, that too.” He agreed. “Now come on, we have some raw meat and the blood in it isn't so important to us as having the food. Maybe that will help.”

“Madman, that's what you are.” She breathed then nodded. “It's worth a try.”

I followed him into a part of the building the heat didn't reach while trying to understand what had just happened. Something inside me insisted that I had just passed a very important test but I had no real idea what that test meant.

I did know that I would keep my promise to this man. Why? Because I had made it, and another vague memory told me that whoever I had been would have done the same. How could I do any less?

“They say that the mad are truly closer to the gods.” I muttered as he led me towards the tantalizing scent of blood. It wasn't hot, as it would have been from a living thing, but it was there and I began salivating as we got closer to the source.

“What was that?” He asked while pulling a plastic curtain aside to allow entrance to another, smaller, and colder room.

“Nothing.” I said with a grin. “Just something I remembered suddenly.”

Then the blood caught me.

There were actual carcasses hanging from hooks chained to the ceiling. I didn't ask how people seeming so desperate had gotten them, just went for the blood. Which is much harder to get when not driven by a still beating heart, by the way. But after some time, sated, I wiped my mouth then licked the blood off my hands and arms and nodded. “That worked. I'm still hungry, but the worst of it has been blunted now.”

He only nodded and I realized that I had shrugged out of his coat while feeding, and the contortions I went through to clean myself had him almost mesmerised. He had just watched an attractive, and very naked woman doing things that had to raise fantasies in a male mind. If I could have blushed, I'm sure I would have then.

“Sorry.” I told him and he snapped out of it with a sharp intake of breath.

“You could make a fortune as an exotic dancer.” He answered slowly.

I shrugged and asked. “You mentioned clothing?”

“Oh, yeah.” Very carefully picking up his coat, he again draped it around my shoulders and moved to the plastic covered doorway. “This way.”

“Might I ask?” I questioned as we left that cold room. “How do people so obviously in need have sides of beef and whole pigs hanging in their back room?”

“Oh, things 'fall off the truck' all the time.” He told me. “The people around here who have work know the ones who don't need all the help they can get. It's never much, but it keeps us going.”

“Good.” I answered and promised myself that I would help more things 'fall off the truck' in the future, and not just for the blood.

“What are you doing here?” Hines asked his subordinate.

“Coordinating the search for Zephyr.” Bill Stewart answered.

“Not good enough, Stewart.” Hines answered. “She got loose on your watch. Get your butt out there in the field and coordinate from there, not here.”

“I should point out that I'm not field trained, I'm a scientist, sir.”

“I don't give a damn.” Hines shot back. “She's on the loose out there and in my estimation that's your fault. Get off your ass and go find her.”

“Yes, sir.” Stewart let out a sigh.

“Take Taggart with you.”

“Taggart, but sir...”

“I know things tend to get messy when he's involved, Bill.” Hines put a halfway conciliatory tone into his voice. “If she's gone back to familiar haunts a little collateral damage won't be anything to get all choked up over.

“Plus, when you do find her, you're going to need a stone cold killer like Taggert to take her down.”

“Then you don't want her back?”

“Stewart.” Hines patiently answered. “We obviously can't contain her in this facility and there is no other more secure in the world that I know of. The only alternative is to kill her. See to it. Before she starts killing civilians out there.”

“Whatever you say.” Stewart answered.

Hines did not miss the lack of an honorific in that answer.

“Like I said, see to it.”

The man gave a sharp, abrupt nod and left without another word.

Once He was gone, Hines pinged Willis Taggert's secure phone. There were some orders that needed to be given before he was contacted by Stewart.

Willis Taggert examined his image in the mirror as he shaved. Hard, honed by years of Spec Ops, then more in the even more secret Black Ops military wing of the CIA it still pleased him that those grey eyes staring back at him showed no hint of emotion.

But he was seething inside. One of the freaks this place had made was loose, and had the temerity to kill four of his own hand picked people when it got away. Something like that could not go unanswered.

But that soft idiot Hines had shown more backbone than expected following the escape of the thing code named Zephyr and had held the leash on him so tightly it nearly choked him. When all he wanted to do was get out there, find and kill the monster.

His secure phone buzzed and he took the time to finish shaving before answering it. “Taggert.”

“You're a go on the hunt.” Hines' voice answered his prayers. “I have some additional orders for you though.”

Taggert listened, confirmed he understood what was needed, and closed the connection.

“Oh, now it's time bitch.” He quietly spoke into the air. “I'm going to kill you, and anyone trying to help you.”

“Taggert.” He muttered to himself while thinking the man was a not only a psyhopath, but a homicidal maniac who only managed to get away with what he was because people in powerful positions found him useful.

Taggert was a cleaner. Meaning that he got rid of things his superiors found inconvenient and dangerous.

William Stewart had abrubtly realized that he was now among those 'inconvenient' things.

So started making plans of his own, and readying things he had very carefully kept hidden just in case such an event happened. If Taggert couldn't find him, no one could, and he was reasonably sure he could stay out of the way until this mess with Zehpyr had been finished and the fallout was far away.

Caught between the known, and bloody,threats of both Zephyr and Taggert, he was desperate enough to take any chance offered.

Clothes.

They felt strange on me. Just the fact and sensations of wearing garments was odd to me.

I got a flash of another place. Huge, with sterile white walls, large windows and faces watching me, unclothed, for what felt like an eternity. I hadn't been allowed the dignity of clothing in that horrible place. So it was no big surprise that nudity held no taboos for me at all.

But wearing clothing was strange and felt not quite right.

After that I got another flash of memory. Of electical prods, and other less pleasant things used on me. And pain, pain like no living thing should have to endure.

And others were going through the same thing, even now, I was sure.

I didn't know how just yet, but was very sure that there would be a reckoning for all that pain. I would see to it personally. And release those others from their agony when I did.

Why? WHY couldn't I remember? Why was I plagued with tantalizing bits and pieces of things past before the one sure memory of agony chased those away? What had happened, was done to me, to make my mind shy away from even looking at it?

I promised myself then and there one thing. No matter how much it hurt, I would remember.

Then would come time for retribution. Bloody, screaming retribution. And this time, I wouldn't be the one screaming.

What, what oh gods, had I become? Half insane, I knew that, but clinging to a morality and sense of ethics I barely understand. Or recall.

But I can't, just can't let go of those last two things. The only shreds of decency left to me.

If I did, then I would truly be lost.

 

---

 

He was taken by surprise at just how uncomfortable this odd young woman seemed to be wearing clothes. She had even shaken her feet like a cat that has stepped into water by accident once she'd pulled on the socks. It was clear that she knew how to put things on, but also that those things, normal clothing, felt strange to her.

“You have worn clothes before?” He asked, then felt stupid for even doing so.

“Yes.” She nodded then got a puzzled look on her face. “But I don't really remember. They wouldn't allow it where I was... Wearing clothes.”

She started shaking again after saying that and visibly got herself under control.

“My god, girl,” Zack whispered while she was going through that. “What did they do to you?”

“I don't remember.” She shuddered and gave him a look that was a look of mixed pleading and submerged anger. “I don't remember. Other than it was bad.”

Blood drinker, dangerous, whatever. The girl in front of him was hurting, bad. Zack slowly and carefully gathered her into a loose hug and felt her trembling in his arms. “It'll be okay. You're away from those bastards. They can't hurt you here. Not anymore.”

“Yes they can.” She mournfully answered. “Every time I feed, they've hurt me again, and worse, they'll be hunting me.”

His arms around me felt good, but wrong at the same time. I was like a newborn, not sure of what to do, how to do it, or even interpret what others were doing. But those arms around me felt better than anything I could remember just now.

But I could smell the blood running through him, hot, salty, spicy, and so alluring. I could hear his heart beating to push that blood through his body and the hunger raised its ugly head again. I got out of his hug, as gently as I could and shook my head.

“Don't do that, please?” I asked him and knew the anguish I felt was showing on my face. “I can smell your blood, even from here, and hear your heart beating. It's like seeing a menu in a restaurant that serves the really good food.

“I don't want to hurt you.” I finished with a heavy sigh. “But being close just rouses things in me that I have trouble holding down. I wanted to rip your throat out there for a second, and drink, bathe, in the hot blood that is running through you now.

“I can't, won't, do that.” I whispered while watching him flinch away again and look fearful. “I'm not a killer, Zack. I never wanted to be a killer, but the blood, the hearbeat, calls like a bell ringing for dinner time.

“Please, I can control it, but don't get too close to me like that again.”

He'd felt the strength of my hands when I gripped his shoulders and lightly pushed him away, and looked afraid again before gathering his wits and nodding. “All right. But you need someone right now, just to be there if nothing else.”

“Knowing me is probably a good way to die.” I almost sobbed. “I'm not a person anyone sane would want to get close to.”

“Well.” He grinned. “Sanity has been said to be overrated, and I've never been accused of having much of that to work with anyway. So what now?”

“Don't ask me.” I let out a sigh and shook my head. “I'm kinda making this up as I go along right now.”

“Aren't we all?” He asked simply.

Dammit! He would die if he stayed around and tried helping me. If not from my appetites from those hunting me. How could he just stand there and smile at me? And just how could I be so sure that people, dangerous people, were after me? But I knew it was so and in spite of how obviously dangerous I could be he simply stood there and looked at me while gently asking questions without a hint of the fear I smelled on him showing in any other way. Idiot.

Infuriating, and more than a little endearing.

But I knew his mind was made up and it would take more than me to change it. And not because I was some sexy babe. He actually intended to help in whatever way he could.

Scary as I knew I was, this man was determined to help me. Without expecting a thing in return. Crap.

I am a monster. How does a monster deal with someone who just takes it in stride and won't take no for an answer when help is offered?
Was I this bad before whatever had happened to me?

I just nodded, and wrapped the coat I'd been given to go with the unfamiliar clothing around myself in an attempt to hide what I felt.
Gods! I had to start remembering sometime didn't I? Who had I been, what had I been before waking up in that awful place?

What had they done to me while I was there?

Why was I a creature out of nightmare? Or a fantasy story?

Just what the Hell had happened to me?

Who had done this to me and more importantly, why had they done it?

Answers, unfortunately, weren't forthcoming at the time.

But I felt it. The answers were there. Just below the surface of my conscious mind and waiting to boil out and scald me with the truth I so badly wanted to know.

I just had to work a chink in my 'not remembering' that would allow all that to come back.

That frighened me as much as what I was now did.

But I had to know.

I had to KNOW.

KNOW.

The truth might not set me free, as some old sayings professed. But it damn sure would clear some things up for and about me.

“Sir?” Constanza, his second interupted his thoughts. Or lack of them at that moment.

“Yes, Constanza?” He shook himself mentally and turned his attention to his subordinate.

“Everything is ready to go, sir and Dr. Stewart is waiting.”

He wanted to just say something like 'Fuck Stewart', but didn't. “All right, lets get this dog and pony show moving.”

“Of course, sir.” Constanza, like everyone who worked for him was afraid of him. That caused his lips to curl up just a bit in amusement.

Everyone in the facility was afraid of him, which was good. Things like what were being done in this place needed someone people feared just to keep things in line.

He walked towards the beat up looking SUV that was his ride, and again lost himself in thought.

He'd felt odd ever since that white skinned freak the boffins had created, or awakened as they liked to say, had come into being. His already sharp senses had gotten even more acute. He slept less than he ever had, and was always restless.

And he could smell the familiar scent of blood even if none was spilled.

That filled him with a yearning that he didn't understand, but quelled as harshly as he was able. Besides the scent of freshly spilled blood was nothing strange to him. Not at all. But he had a mission to take care of before he could logically sit down and deal with the odd feelings he'd been having.

He had a freak to find, and kill.

And another 'accident' to arrange.

Willaim Stewart thought about his wife, Rebecca, and his children, six year old Aaron and three year old Olivia with a pang of worry. So far Zephyr had exibited no real agressive tendencies or had actively hunted anyone. She had simply defended herself and secured her freedom even if that had been a literal bloody mess. But he knew without a shred of doubt that when she did start hunting, her target would never be safe. But...

No, she wouldn't go after his family. The people he worked for? Or with? Taggert wouldn't even blink an eye while doing such a thing. That thought caused him to shudder in mixed revulsion and fear.

“We're all set, Dr. Stewart.” The Seargeant assigned to shepard — watch — him, interrupted those worries and Stewart nodded.

“All right, Hodges.” He answered with a calm that surprised him. “Go ahead, I'll be along in a minute, just have a few things to grab and I'm afraid some of them are way above your clearance. Sorry, but it's safer for you not to see them right now.”

“Understood, sir.” The man nodded and turned to exit the room. “I'll be waiting right outside.”

“Who watches the watchers?” Stewart whispered to himself while gathering his things. Hodges was pleasant enough, and a good bodyguard if it came to that. The man had saved his ass that nightmare of a night when Zephyr had escaped and stood ready to be between him and the then ravening monster that had broken her leash and was running loose in the facility. Stewart reminded himself that hadn't been necessary and also that the vampire, or whatever she was hadn't actively gone after anyone not trying to hold her in the facility or tried balking her efforts to get out.

He knew Hodges was as much a keeper as a protector, though. Stewart was uneasy with that and checked one last time to make sure he had the cash, twenty-thousand in uncomfortably large bills, but space was a problem since smaller bills would have added way too much bulk to his things, and the ATM card to an account in Bermuda that was under a name he hoped his employers didn't know about. He was relatively sure that once in the cess pit of 'The Dregs, or whatever the inhabitants called that area of Denver that even the army hesitated to enter, he would be able to disappear quite completely.

Once things settled down, he could get in touch with his family and get them to wherever he decided to relocate. Preferably somewhere far, far away from Project Awake or anyone who knew anything at all about it.

Surviving long enough to make that escape was kind of problematic.

With a sigh, he shook his head and muttered. “Either I will or I'll die.”

Picking up the pack and briefcase he had prepared, he opened the door, gave Hodges a nervous grin and said. “Okay, Seargeant. Let's get this show on the road and see what the audience thinks of it.”

“Sounds good to me, sir.” Hodges grinned back. “Let's go find us a freak and kill it.”

“Yeah.” Stewart grinned back while thinking that it was very possibly going to be just the opposite of that sentiment.

For the first time since he had been exposed to them, Stewart actually felt a little grief for Taggert and his people. If they won, they still lost by ignoring just that much more of their own humanity by killing something — someone — who was only trying to be left alone. If they lost, he thought they might be lucky if simple death was all they had to face.

All at once, because of that thought, his own situation became less dire in the whole scheme. Live or die, he would still be his own man in most respects. Thoughtfully, he decided he could live, or die with that.

For a while, Stewart was actually at peace with himself.

For awhile.

---

 

I had to really work at keeping the 'predator' part of me from showing too much though I knew I couldn't hide all of it or all the time. So the people in that shelter, or whatever it was knew I was dangerous and potentially deadly.

But they took me in. Even knowing that they took me in.

I was told more than once that the person talking with me had seen real monsters, and that I wasn't one of those, though I couldn't understand that. I was a purely white skinned thing who lived on blood, and had the fangs to get it. I didn't look close to human other than my shape and still these people took me in, tried to help me even when they had to know I was potentially their death.

Simple acceptance can often be harder to take than anything else. I didn't know how to deal with it. These people knew what I was and they just decided to do all they could to help me. A lot of them had seen me draining the blood from meat they had around, but they simply shrugged it off and kept trying to help me.

What could I do? I accepted their offered help. The alternatives would have been more than I could bear.

“There you go.” Teresa, who had deided to help me with makeup grinned. As if I really cared about all that 'looking good' stuff girls got from guys. But looking in the mirror my complexion was more human, at least from the neck up. I was still pale, but with the foundation and blushes (I had no real idea of what those were at the time) I looked like a human who hadn't been out in the sun much. Except for my eyes. Those white orbs would never be taken for human.

“Here.” Teresa handed me a pair of sunglasses. “Put these on.”

With those, I looked pretty human.

“Contacts could fix the thing with your eyes.” Teresa told me. “But we don't have that kind of thing here.”

What I saw in the mirror was a pretty, no beatiful, woman wearing sunglasses. I took off the glasses and turned away from that vision. I was female, obviously, but why did using makeup and looking attractive send that sense of absolute wrongness to me?

“Honey.” Tersa told me softly. “We all know something was done to you, and you don't look like you used to. But try and work with what you've got instead of trying to fight it. You may have been plain, or ugly, or just not a girly kind of gal before, but now you're fucking gorgeous. Learn to work with that. Learn to deal with it. You are what you are, and we can't change that now. Neither can you.”

“I'm what?”

“Gorgeous.” She ran yet another nail to hammer down what I might have been before all this. “You would make most women jealous, and Hell, I'm jealous. You. Are. Fucking. Beautiful. You'll attract attention wherever you go, so get used to the idea now.”

“But.”

“No buts dear.” She flatly told me. “You are what you are, even if you weren't that way to start with, and even all white like you usually are, you are simply, beautiful. Kind of weird, but beautiful.”

“But.”

“No buts here.” She told me flatly. “You are one Babe, as the guys say. So get used to it.

“Learn how to use that to your advantage.” She went on.

“Beauty is power, dear.” She went on. “Looking like you do, you could get any man to do whatever you want them to if you know how. And you very certainly have that. In abundance. Face, form, you have a really great body, and attitude. All you need now is the attitude. And the moves, you walk like a truck driver.”

The obvious question there led to lessons on how to not only walk, but sit. Sheesh.

“I was a guy, Teresa!” I shot back, then had to sit back and work that one out. I was obviously female, and with a figure that men would really enjoy just looking at. So how could I have been a guy?

“All the more reason for you to learn these things.” She grinned. “I've known more than a few transsexuals and every one of them needed to be shown a few things to look real. I don't mind doing it for you.”

So, I spent the next few days learning how to walk, gesture, and even sit. Crap. But I did seem to be stuck as I was now, so learning that would help me blend in. Especially with the makeup, which I practiced several times a day. Do you have any idea of how hard it is to take a completly white canvas and make it look alive? Everything had to be very even, without a spot of white showing through. Putting that stuff on my hands was interesting.

But with the right clothes and that, I could pass for human. If I wore sunglasses. Which is kind of weird if you do it at night.
Can't win 'em all, I guess.

My hair refused to take dye at all, and also grew back any time it was cut. Now that was annoying.

We figured out I could pile that mass of hair up, put it in a bun and wear a wig if the wig was 'big' enough hair-wise, though.

Ah well, small victories are still victories, right?

At least I keep telling myself that.

In time, I might even believe it.

“Hey Zeph.” He called to her and as she turned to look at him, he smiled. “Looking good there.”

“So I've been told, repeatedly.” The odd woman let out a sigh, shrugged and nodded, then surprisingly grinned. “Well you did tell me it would be best to blend in, right?”

“Yeah, I did do that, didn't I?” He shook his head and grinned back before pointing out. “But your hair is still kind of strange.”

“Won't take dye,” She shrugged, “and grows right back if I cut it. Just another weird thing about me I guess.”

“True.” He noted while thinking that she was moving with more grace and confidence than she had a few days ago. “Your gestures, walk, mannerisms are all getting better, too. You used to look a bull dyke with a Lot of problems but now you actually appear feminine.”

“I know.” That idea seemed to bother her for a while, but she shrugged it off, tilting her head and giving him a half smile that was almost Mona Lisa-like. “Teresa told me I moved like a big male truckdriver, and she's been coaching me over the past few days.”

Zack refrained from telling her that her body, her form, and her presence seemed designed for sensual feminine gestures, walk, and other things he didn't even want to think about just then. “It's working. You look pretty much normal now.”

“That's the idea, isn't it?” She asked with an air of innocence that was disarming even though he had heard her story, all of it, that she remembered.

“Yup.” He nodded and gave her a smile. “You could go out in broad daylight now and no one would give you a second look, well amend that you'd get second looks, and probably more because you are one beautiful woman. But I hope you get what I mean there...”

“It's okay, Zack.” She laughed, actually laughed just to do it and that was another milestone that neither of them really paid that much attention to at that moment. “Teresa and her cronies are constantly telling me that I'm 'Fricking gorgeous'. Just something I'll have to learn to deal with along with everything else.”

“Yeah.” He nodded and forced himself to breathe evenly before going on. “You are, and you will.

“Any more flashes of memory lately?” He changed the subject to avoid uncomfortable ideas.

“No.” She shook her head in frustration. “All I get is that place and some faces I can't put names to right now. The nightmares bring some of those back, but I really wonder if regaining them is worth the mess.”

“They're in there.” He shook his head. She had been sleeping in a place far away from others because of those nightmares. She was fast, and strong enough to be dangerous when she first woke from one. She had quite literally torn one the dorm rooms to pieces the first night and nearly killed the people who rushed in to see what was wrong. That saddened and angered him. Not for the first time he wondered what kind of monsters could do things like that to another living creature. “Maybe the nightmares are how they're trying to get out?”

“Maybe.” She softly admitted then shook herself. “I just wish they'd do it and be done with it. I don't want people being afraid of me, Zack. I don't want to hurt anybody.”

“We know that.” He soothed while moving up close enough to take her hand and repressing a shudder at just how cold that hand was against his own warmth. “You're doing good here. The memories will come or they won't, but you're starting to fit in around here and not as many people as you think are afraid of you anymore. A little cautious, probably, but definitely not afraid.”

“Progress.” She almost spat out.

“Yes it is.” He countered and pulled her into a hug that she first stiffened at then just kind of flowed into much to his surprise. “It really is. Give yourself time, you only remember being as you are for several weeks. You'll learn, and more importantly, when you're ready, I think you'll remember.”

“Oh, I hope so.” She whispered. “I do hope so.”

He let out a sigh of relief when the locker at the downtown bus station he had set up much earlier was undisturbed. Removing the beat up suitcase it contained, he appeared as casual as possible while heading for the restrooms.

One inside, he entered one of the stalls and winced at the smell and general nastiness but made himself ignore that. Changing out of the nondescript clothing he'd been wearing he put on the even more ragged and dirty looking things in the suitcase, then checked that the emergency funds were all there. They were, and he took out a small bundle of bills, removing a few and putting the rest back in the suitcase. He knew that it wouldn't do at all to have more than forty or fifty dollars on him where he was going and even that could be dangerous if someone found out but this time needed a bit more than that. He put a twenty in the beat up running shoe on his right foot and the other hundred and fifty was stuffed into his underwear, uncomfortable as that was. The twenty was for the shakedown artists and muggers. That would hopefully keep the rest intact if they went past finding the five in his pants pocket.

A bit of grime artfully applied to his face gave the appearance of a beard shadow, if someone didn't look too closely, and the same greasy, nasty stuff rubbed in his hair darkened that and gave it the unkempt look that most of the denizens in this slum had.

The smell of sweat didn't have to be faked. He'd been sweating in fear for the past two days and hadn't showered so it would build up and linger. On his way out, he'd buy a cheap bottle of something alcoholic and douse himself with it just to add to the disguise.

Satisfied that he was as scruffy looking as he could be without more time and real dirt, booze, and sweat, he emerged from the restroom, made sure no one was paying attention to the apparent transient bum he was trying to look like, and put the suitcase back in the locker.

He made himself remember to abandon the confident stride he was used to using, stooping his shoulders and shuffling like any other beaten down inhabitant of these slums. Getting that perfected had taken time, and some nearly dangerous near encounters while he was watching his models, but now it wasn't simply out of interest or future planning. Now it was real, very real. So the defeated slump, the uncertain gait, the lowered eyes nearly came naturally. If they didn't, Taggert would find and kill him.

“What do you mean you've lost him?” Hines almost shouted into the phone.

“Sir.” Taggert calmly responded. “Stewart took one of the vehicles and told us he was headed back to the Zoo to retrieve some information we needed. And no he didn't go alone. Hodges was with him. We haven't found him either.”

“Car jacking?” Hines wondered aloud thinking that would solve the problem just as well.

“Maybe.” Taggert answered doubtfully. “Stewart hadn't showered in a couple of days, like the rest of us to fit in, and was more nervous than he should have been, while seeming too familiar with the area at times.”

“Why didn't you just get it done and blame it on a mugger before now?”

“Our priorty is Zephyr, sir.” Taggert calmly responded. “Stewart was a secondary concern. I think he got rid of Hodges some way and sold the vehicle to some chop shop.”

“Then find it, and where he went after that.” Hines ordered.

“Easier said than done, sir.” The unperturbed answer came back. “Don't worry we'll find him but there is mission priority to consider here.”

“Any sign of her?”

“Not yet, and that's a little troubling.” Taggert answered. “It tells me she's found help of some kind or is a lot smarter than we thought.”

“She has to have left some traces.” Hines answered in frustration. “A creature who needs blood to survive wouldn't go that unnoticed, even in that hell hole.”

“So far she has.”

“She'd stand out in any crowd.” Hines answered.

“Not if she figured out to use makeup, and only go places at night.” Taggert snorted. “We've had six false alarms on sightings since we've been here.”

“What did you to with those once you questioned them?”

“Don't worry about it, Hines.” Taggert answered without a trace of emotion. “It's taken care of.”

“Just find her.” Hines answered without saying the rest of the order, which Taggert was already well aware of.

“We will.” The black ops veteran assured him.

“Then get rid of Stewart, wherever he's gotten to.”

“All part of the deal, boss.”

Hines did not miss the almost contemptuous emphasis on that last word.

“Just get it done, Taggert.” Hines felt a chill along his back as he went on. “You have no idea of just how dangerous her being on the loose is.”

“For the world or for you?” Taggert asked then laughed. “We'll find her.”

“You keep saying that, but where are the results?”

“Patience, sir. She's gone to ground and is hiding a lot better than anticipated. We're checking the old haunts of the person she was before, and those are the most likely to be where we'll find her. These things take time.”

Hanging up the phone, Hines wiped the sweat off his forehead and cursed the arrogant bastard who had been selected as head of the project's security.

“This is turning into one huge cluster fuck.” He said into the empty office.

Stewart getting away like that was bothersome. If Hodges ever turned up it wouldn't go well for him.

That sanctimonious prick Hines almost enraged him, and Taggert had visions of ripping the man's throat out. With his teeth. That idea kind of shook him but also excited him.

Not the death thing, it was the lack of control on his part that was bothersome.

Stewart was an annoyance, and Taggert remembered how the man had smelled. Somehow he knew that underlying scent couldn't change, so finding and eliminating that would would only be a matter of time, too.

But that white eyed bitch was a problem. He felt her presence, somewhere nearby, but was unable to pinpoint it.

And she had left not the slightest trace behind. Not even some derelict found emptied of blood in some dark, noisome alley.

She was getting help.

When he found her, the ones helping her would die, too.

Running his tongue over his longer, and sharper canines, Taggert knew that killing that freak was very important to the rest of his life.

And he would need to do something about the urges to rip someone's throat out and drink the blood that would result from that.

It was a different feeling, urge, need, but not so different that he didn't understand it. Taggert was and had been a predator since he was a child.

Besides, anything he did, could be blamed on the white bitch.

The Hunger was rising, the need, and he saw no reason to deny it.

After a few minutes thought, and some small resistance because doing so could endanger him, Taggert went hunting for the first time.

 

---

 

The nightmares had been horrendous. I was really glad I'd isolated the place I sleep from everyone else here.

But I remembered. At least part of it. Who and what I had been before at least, even if that was more than a little uncomfortable given what I was now, and that doesn't mean the vampire thing.

I had been a man. Male. With all the drives and urges.

And I'd known most of the people who were helping me now.

Dammit! How, just how, was I going to handle that?

Epecially telling Zack who I'd been?

Life ain't easy, I know that. But dammit. Just dammit!”

Well, it wasn't like I was dealing with anything easy at the moment. Why should that be any different?

But now. Now. I was female. And in spite of the really outre look I had without the makeup and sunglasses, I was a female guaranteed to attract male attention.

Crap.

How to deal with that?

Answer?

I didn't know and would just have to roll with it and make things up as I go along.

Crap again.

I had no real clue about how to be a woman. Though I had been doing pretty well since I got here, I thought.

But then again, being female is a physical and mental thing. The physical I had even if I tried to deny it, had the look, the walk, the... Whatever.

I couldn't even remember how to walk like a male and something told me that if I tried, it would hurt.
And just be... Wrong.

Crap, Teresa and her cronies had shown me how to move, but now I couldn't conceive of any other way to do that now.

I tried to walk the way I remembered doing before I changed. I couldn't, and trying looked ludicrous. My hips were wider, my legs farther apart, my back was different. Walking like a male just wasn't going to happen now.

Worse? Watching msyself in a mirror, the walk and stances I took were just... Sexy.

Oh, gods. Kill me now. Please.

If you hadn't noticed, the mental changes were a bit slow on the uptake there.

This was going to take some work.

Okay, a lot of work.

Damn.

But I was what I was and somehow knew there was no going back to what was.

And I was damned if if I'd let anything, mental, physical, or from the outside, kill me.

I was going to live.

Other things? I'd work out later.

Like I had a choice.

On top of everything else I has this niggling sense that there was another one like me out there, and close. Plus the certainty of that one was not one I really wanted to meet. I'd felt his feedings last night. He was out there, feeding, cruel, and I knew I didn't want to run into him.

But I knew I would. No matter how much I avoided it, he was hunting me. He was out there, killing, not caring about that, and feeding. I wouldn't be able to avoid him.

So I had to prepare to confront him.

On top of everything else.

I also knew, how I don't know, that he meant to kill me.

That I would not allow if I had anything to say or do about it.

So while he hunted me, I decided to start hunting him.

Predators do not usually get along all that well when their territories are invaded. And mine had been invaded.

Oh, all right, it isn't nice at all, and I wasn't hunting in the area, but this one was intruding on my territory.

And I knew, instinctively, that without my permission for him to do that, I would find him, he would find me, and one of us was going to die.

What? What had I become?

That idea, and the things it showed me, were absolutely terrifying.

Especially with the anger, no make that real rage I was feeling just then over what had been done to me, and to others though I didn't recall any of that other than who and what I had been before. I was being hunted by a person or most probably persons unknown. Worse was what angered me the most.

Someone was hunting in my teritory without my permission.

I stayed in my room for over an hour getting that rage under control. What I saw in the mirror during that time was truly terrifying.
Once it had faded, I sat on the floor with my arms around my knees, rocking back and forth.

My room was a shambles again. Things broken, the matress on the narrow bed shredded, bits of foam rubber from the pillows scattered everywhere. Picking bits of that last from under my nails, and out of my teeth, I shuddered then let out a little sob.

Obviously, I wasn't safe for anyone to be around. At least not untill I was able to contol myself better.

A sense of lonliness I'd never experienced in my life rose up and I sobbed again.

A knock on the door pulled me out of that, but I wasn't in the mood for company just then.

“Go away, puh — please go away. I'm not safe to be around just now.”

Hearing that, and the sobs from inside the room, Zack answered. “You always say that. Have a bad one this time?”

“Yeah.” The answer faintly came back. “Really bad.”

“You going to hurt me if I come in?” He asked.

“Nuh, no.” The answer was hesitant. “I don't think so.”

“Well, that beats 'Go the Hell away or I'll rip your throat out.' Mind if I come in?”

“Why not?” She answered tiredly.

He entered, looked at the general destruction and moved to give her a hug. “Really bad one, huh?”

“Yeah.” She didn't move away from his hug, but stiffened a little. “Zack, I remember who I was — before this happened to me.”

“That's a good thing.”

“I don't know if it is or not, Zack.” She answered quietly while getting out of his hug to give him a forlorn, alsmost lost look. “It might have been better if I hadn't remembered.”

“Is it that bad?” He asked. “Were you some kind of serial killer or something?”

“No.” She drew in a breath, visibly gathered herself, and went on. “I was Shane.”

“What?”

“I was Shane Duncan, Zack.”

“No...”

“I was.” She insisted. “I remeber pulling you out of the gutter and giving you an address to the rehab and employment center.
“I told you, urged you, to take the chance, and that if it didn't work out there was always the bottle to go back to.”

“What happened to you, then?” Zack questioned, still not completely believing what she'd told him.

“I still don't remember.” She hugged herself and shook her head. “I got who I had been, or some implanted memories, but I don't remember how that happened yet.

“But there are people hunting me, and another one like me who doesn't restrain himself.”

“Are you saying there is another Vampire loose around here?”

“Yes.” She almost chewed the answer she was so clearly angry. “And he's hunting in my territory. WITHOUT my permission!”

“Back off, girl.” Zack held out his hands. “Or whatever you are. No one here is doing something like that.”

She hissed, and nodded. “I know. But he's out there, and working to draw me out by killing and leaving the bodies where they can be found.”

“How do you know that?”

“I don't know how I know.” She shook her head. “I feel him, and what he does, that's all I can tell you right now.”

“You were Shane?” He ignored that and looked her in the eye, which was disconcerting because she had no visible pupil, only pure white orbs to look back with.

“Yes.” She answered without saying more.

“Damn.” He shook his head and simply sat there for a bit. “That's a lot to get my head around, Zeph.”

“Try it from in here.” She answered while tapping her head with a long, slim finger.

“Point taken.” He nodded then shook his head. “Now what?”

“Same as usual, I guess.” She shrugged, then hugged herself tightly. “I don't know of any other way to do this right now. I still have to learn how to blend in, and at least look like a regular person. Other than that, I don't know just now.”

“Yeah.” He agreed, then looked up at her with alarm. “You said there is another one like you on the loose and killing people? How do you know that?”

“I don't know how!” She said with a force that showed it was the truth. “All I know is that I feel him out there, and at times see what he does. I can't explain it, it just happens.”

“Does this one feel your connection?” He asked in alarm. “Would he be able to find you through that? And how do you know it's a he?”

“I just know, Zack.” She answered tiredly. “I can't explain how, but I know. And I don't think the connection goes both ways since he's obviously trying to draw me out right now. But again, I don't know.

“I need to leave.” She decided. “My being here is more of a danger than I'd thought it was for everyone around me . I wouldn't, couldn't forgive myself if that one got loose in here.”

“You got anywhere else to go?” He asked bluntly.

“You know the answer to that one.” She miserably answered.

“So just what the Hell would you do out there, on your own?”

“I don't KNOW!” She shouted the last word then visibly calmed herself. “Would I survive? Yes. Would I like what I had to become to do it? Probably not. But Everyone here, everyone is in danger if I stay.”

“Okay, now I know you used to be Shane.” Zack sighed. “Always worrying about everyone else and not wanting to take help when someone offered it to you. You need friends now, you need to know that you aren't cut off from the world. Let us help.”

Against this what can any of you do to help?”

“Be your friends.” He simply answered then shrugged. “As for the rest? We'll make it up as we go along. Life is like that, especially around here. You don't turn away offers of friendship because sometime, somewhere, friends are liable to be the only thing that saves your ass. All of us here live every day knowing it could be our last one and there are people — now things — out there that could make that so.
“So you take the friendships offered, work to protect your friends as much as you can like they do for you, and get on with life as best you can.

“And don't even think about giving me that crap about you being a danger to us here. Hell there are people here being hunted by bad people for one reason or another and I can't even start counting them. That's why at least half of them are in this cesspool to begin with.

“We work together, Zephyr, or Shane, or whatever other name you decide to go by. We survive. We actually manage to thrive. You knew how to do that once. You need to relearn it here.”

“But...”

“No buts about it, hon.” He stopped that protest with a wave and the interruption. “We're all family in this place, we help each other, we listen to each other, we fight for each other. Simple as that.”

“You don't know what's coming.” She countered.

“We, all of us, know what we have here right now.” He said. “And have faith that you can handle whatever it is that is coming. We all know what you are, we all appreciate how you've worked to protect us from that even if we don't really understand what happened to you. But dont leave your family because you're worried about us getting hurt. We're a tough bunch, as you should know, and no matter how nasty someone is, they are always vulnerable in some way. Hell, people have already figured out ways that would hopefully kill you if you get out of hand with us, and I'm not talking idiot stuff like garlic or exposing you to sunlight.

“We're tough by necessity, the ones who aren't don't last long around here, you know that.” He grinned at her. “So don't run away from us because you're afaid we'll get hurt. We deal with crap like that every day and a bit more isn't a big deal.

“You got that?”
“But...” She was beginning to think that was the only word she knew.

“Just let us help.” He told her. “We have eyes, and ears everywhere in this part of town, and we want to help. If you'll let us do it.”

“You could all die.” She protested.

“Like that's something any of us don't look at almost every day.” He snorted. “The question here is will you let us help you, or go off on your own and probably get killed trying to take this other one you talked about down? And leave the rest of us to Him?

“Good intelligence is what wins most battles, you know.” He finished with a shrug. “And if you take it, the help, you have an intelligence network that covers half the city.”

“I don't want to make things worse.”

“Dammit, listen to me here!” He took her shoulders and gave her a little shake. “How the Hell could things get worse for most of the people around here? How?”

“They could die.”

“Been through that already.” He said with a little grin.

“That could happen to anyone, anywhere, anytime. Why is here that different?”

“Because, you're all, you're all, my friends.” She told him with a shudder.

“So take our help and try to keep us from dying, at least any more than usually happens around here.”

“Okay,” She let out a sigh and nodded before looking back up with a determined expression. “But I will NOT move back into the general housing.”

“Given your nightmares, and reactions to them,” Zack waved around the room and chuckled, “that's probably a pretty good idea right now.”

Zephyr laughed in response and felt a huge weight lifting from her when she did. “True.”

“So now what?” He asked.

“We find this 'other one' for starters.”

“Then?”

“I'm going to kill him.” Was her simple, chilling answer.

“Okay.” He spread his hands in a 'what can I do' gesture and nodded. “I can live with that.”

That time, she hugged him.

The room was almost nasty, but it was private, and actually had it's own bathroom so he wouldn't have to share that. His sensibilities screamed to douse the whole thing in bleach and not come back for a week, but it was private and even had a shower, though the water never went from anything but cold to really cold.

He had a bed that didn't collapse when he sat on it, even if the springs tended to poke at body parts if you laid on the wrong part. And a hot plate. All of which was luxury in this god forsaken slum.

It had cost him a hundred and fifty dollars, a small fortune in this area to get it, then the bribe to keep the manager from telling anyone about the guy who had enough to pay for all that and not flinch was another hundred. That would drop to probably twenty a month, but still...
Even in this hell hole, maybe especialy in this hell hole, money made the world go round and work.

But he was away from that damned Zoo and the things they routinely did to things that had once been human. And he was, hopefully, under Taggert's radar now.

Time would tell on that one, but as with any other living creature, the survival imperitive was strong.

He cringed at the idea of staying dirty, unsahven, and wearing the rags he'd found in some refuse bin earlier.

But, like all living things, William Stewart wanted to keep on living.

At least things hadn't reached the point where people would go after his family, though Taggert worried him about that. The best course of action was to hide, say nothing, and hope.

He was raging, inside. ut showed none of that to his subordinates.

The bitch KNEW he was out here, and killing. Drinking and leaving the bodies so they could be found. But she refused to show herself at all.

“Coward.” He breathed as he though of that. “I know I'm hunting in territory that should be yours. You should react to that.

“Come out, come out, you white eyed bitch.” He murmurred. “You won't hide forever, I know that. I share the same instincts you do. I'm hunting in your territory and if you don't stop me, I'll make it MY territory.

“So make it easy for both of us and come out to play.”

 

---

 

Hines was watching the security vids of Zephyr's escape. Again. What he saw still caused a chill to run up and down his spine and made the hair on the back of his neck stir.

She was so fast the vids had to be slowed down considerably just for the observer to see what she had done. Oh, it had been obvious that she was deadly. She had, after all, killed four very well trained, military black ops security people in less time than it took to say that. Her grace, and the accuracy of her attacks in the slow motion vids was akin to a hunting cat striking, but Hines seriously doubted that any cat, wild or domesticated, would be able to keep up with her. The spectacle held it's own beauty with the precision and speed of her killing blows, which made it even more frightening.

“Something like that on the loose in the general population would be more than disastrous.” He breathed while watching the footage again and shuddering. “Regular law enforcement or even military would have very little chance of stopping her.”

Even more frightening, the vids showed clearly that she had taken shots from the security team's weapons. And hadn't even slowed down when that happened.

“Taggert,” Hines whispered. “you'd better find her soon. Something like that running around loose is more than bears thinking about.”

He grinned at the last message he'd received from that pompous idiot, Hines.

Zephyr hadn't shown herself, or even killed that anyone knew of after the disaster at the facility. She was being very careful if she was feeding, and if she wasn't she would be drastically weakened. Which was fine with him.

“You have no idea, you damn fool.” Taggert thought while he smirked. “But I'll be sure to show you once I finish this and get back there.” He thought of how much fun it would be to show the pompous ass a real monster, just before he killed the man. Anticipation sent a thrill all the way through him as he imagined the scene.

He scanned the people around him and let out a sigh. Still no sign of the bitch. Or of that turncoat, Stewart. But he'd find them.

The thing was, that every human he saw looked like food, and he had to consciously stop himself from salivating when he watched them. It was daylight and there were a lot of people around, so he quelled the impulse to take a few of them and feed. That impulse would have truly worried the man that he had been, even as ruthless and cruel as that one was. Taking prey in broad daylight was something he knew would lead to trouble. He soothed himself with another thought. Stewart would make a fine meal once his team found him.

The people he saw were almost pathetic. The lost, the hopeless, the unwanted, all milling about in one part of town. Something odd he noticed though, was that the people he was watching and at times interacting with, didn't strike him as hopeless discards of society. Oh, sure, there were some of those, but as he honestly thought about it, someone could see much the same thing in places that were a lot better off.

But the unity he was seeing was almost humbling. Family groups, friends, acquaintances, all worked together in one way or another, watching out for each other, comforting the ones who needed it, closing ranks to help those who needed the help. It was something he hadn't seen since he'd left home and went to college.

Oh, there were some bad ones there. But the majority, the ones willing to help others survive outnumbered and usually did their best to ignore those who tried preying on the others, or joined ranks and ran them off.

A person he didn't know warned him about one of those. “Hey, that guy you were just talking to?”

“Yeah? What about him?” Stewart questioned.

“Not telling you how to live your life, dude.” The woman, in clothing that was nearly a bunch of rags that had been knotted together to just cover her shrugged. “But he's bad news. Listen to him and invite him in, he'll take everything you got and if you protest he'll just kill you. The bastard would kill someone for a few quarters. Just wanted you to know.”

“Why?”

“Newbies don't tend to last long around here unless they make the right kind of friends.” She answered then grimaced. “And I don't mean the takers like that one. Whatever he offered you, it was a lie. Just trying to help.”

“Why?” Stewart felt like some skipping CD or a tape with one word on it.

“Cause we help each other 'round here.” She answered simply. “Bad enough we got to deal with the other shit all the time. Just walkin' inta it is more than anyone deserves.”

“Thanks.” Stewart was genuinely thankful, and touched by her concern.

“Life can be shitty enough 'round here.” She responded with a little smile. “Get to know some people and they can help. Lots of good 'uns here if you just look 'round.”

“I will.” He nodded.

“Name's Meg.” She answered with a hint of a smile. “Live in an old wharehouse down the street. “Bout six blocks. Come say hi and introduce yerself, get ta know some people.

“I will, thanks.” He answered, then added. “I'm Stewart.”

“Good ta meet ya, Stew.” She used a version of his name that he had always disliked, but coming from her it wasn't so bad. “Come on over some time, meet some folks, be safer fer ya in the long run.”

“I will, thanks.” He nodded then looked up. “But how will I know which place is right?”

“Hard ta miss, man.” She laughed. “Jest watch fer the place with folk goin in an out.”

“Okay.” He laughed, probably the first time he had in what felt like ages. “I will. Thanks again.”

“No problem, dude.” She shrugged. “We spot a newbie, we try an help is all. Place is bad enough with friends, it's deadly when ya are alone.”

“I'll look you up tomorrow.” He promised.

“I'll tell tha watchers ta expect ya.” She nodded. “Bye.”

And she was gone as quickly as she'd appeared.

“How did she do that?” He wondered aloud to himself.

But what she'd told him made sense.

I was just walking around, watching people, letting myself feel like I was at least half human.

I was wearing sweats, ragged like everything else around here, a hoodie to hide my hair, gloves, and the heavy makeup and sunglasses that hopefully allowed me to look like just another person in this place.

I was hunting, and I didn't want the people I was hunting to know that.

This bastard, whoever he was, violated my territory as if it meant nothing.

He was going to die for that effrontery.

I just had to find him, then figure out how to do that. But I would.

Predators do NOT like competition.

And as much as I was trying to hold on to my humanity, I was a predator.

And some asshole was killing in places that are MINE.

That would NOT pass.

I was going to kill him or die trying.

Doing that might get me some answers I really needed to have, too. Or I would get to stop worrying about all of this.

But a confrontation was near.

Truthfully, at the time, I didn't really care which outcome came to pass. Except for my friends. Yeah, I needed to win in this upcoming confrontation because of them.

But I really needed to know my adversary, my enemy, before I could even start to plan for that. Going into a fight blind was just asking to get your ass kicked. Angry as I was about the intrusion, and somehow knowing that he was one of the people hunting me from that place, I held it all in, pushed it aside, and concentrated on finding the information I needed.

I might have to lose a fight with, him, without dying, to learn what I wanted. That wasn't a pleasant prospect. On the other hand he'd shown nothing that indicated stealth, which I had found I was good at. Maybe I could survive a first encounter with him.

But I knew it was going to hurt. I'd do it, though. The bastard was hunting in my territory.

I'd find him.

What would happen after that? Who knew?

But he was the invader and I had to, just had to, defend my territory.

After a night of agonizing, and reaching the conclusion that remaining alone would not be good for either his physical or mental health, he was back on the streets and walking in the direction Meg had shown him the day before.

Meg had been right about finding the place. From the outside it looked just like all the other run down, falling apart warehouses in this part of the district. But there was a nearly constant trickle of people going in and out of the place.

He walked to the entrance and was stopped by two very large, and surprisingly fit men. One of them looked him over as if searching for weapons and asked. “What do you want?”

“My name is Stewart.” He answered with as much calm as he could manage. “I met Meg yesterday and she invited me, said she'd tell you guys, if you're the watchers.”

“We are.” The second one answered while still looking him over. “Meg described you and told us to watch for ya. Go on in, you'll probably find her in the kitchens right now.”

“One thing.” The first one put a large hand on his shoulder. “Cause trouble and getting thrown out would be the best option you'd get. Got me?”

“No intention of causing trouble here.” Stewart said as he was allowed to enter.

Inside, the warehouse had a warmer feel than out on the street just outside the door. Not just physically from the numerous fires burning in fifty gallon drums, but the atmosphere. He understood almost immediately that this was a community who worked together and protected themselves well enough to be secure.

These people didn't have the furtive look that a lot of the street people he'd seen had. They walked with straight backs, or as straight as they could get and weren't constantly scanning the area for either threats or opportunity. He noted that some of them, men and women, were watching things very alertly and appeared more than ready to defend the others and what they considered their home. He didn't see any easily apparent weapons but was familiar enough with security details to know those people had them and were willing to use them.

Finding the area that had some crude grills and improvised fire pits with pots, skillets, and kettles over them, he rightly decided that was the kitchen area and moved in that direction to find Meg. While thinking that this place would be a lot more secure than his run down apartment.

I had taken on the responsibility of protecting the people in this enclave once I'd realized they just accepted me and to my shock, trusted me. Given what I was now, that trust meant a lot to me and I had promised myself I would never violate it no matter how hungry I got. There were plenty of low lifes out there that worked as an adequate menu when the beef and pork blood wasn't enough. And I was careful when I fed on the street, making sure there were no bodies to raise questions. The rats around here were as hungry as everyone else.

Someone new caught my eye as I watched things from the seclusion of a small cubbyhole that still allowed me to see most of the warehouse. I got out of my comfortable seated position and walked out into the enclave proper to get a better look. Something about this newcomer roused feelings and memories I had thought were forever lost to me.

“Zeph?” One of the other watchers asked as I froze. “You okay? Is there trouble here?”

The guy was shabby as everyone else, looking worn and frightened. But I remembered a much better dressed person in a white lab coat watching me endure more tortures than I really care to think about. I didn't know his name but I remembered his face even with the beard, unkempt hair and ragged, dirty clothing.

Pristine white rooms. Chains. Restraining chairs. More pain than anything, anyone should be expected to go through. More memories flooded my befuddled mind and more pieces of my past fell into place. Experiments, they called them. I called them pure torture meant to find just how much punishment I could take and for how long. Along with the time it took me to heal from their damned 'experiments'.

Worse, I knew there were others going through what I had who hadn't escaped the hell hole I'd been a prisoner in. The flood of memories came close to overwhelming me. Hard learned discipline pushed that away and I only shook my head and swayed for a moment or two.

“Zeph?” Silas, another of our security people asked again. Carefully because I had been so volatile during the first month or so I'd been here.

“I'm fine, Silas.” I managed to answer while still looking at the man who had awakened all that.

“Who is he?” I had never learned the names of my tormentors and even though I really wanted to savage the man here and now, I knew doing that would do more harm than good in this safe haven.

The guy reeked of fear. But not because of me, he hadn't seen me yet and thanks to the help I'd gotten I didn't look like the unfortunate creature he had helped torture. No the fear I smelled on him was from something else and if he was hiding here I decided it had to do with his employers.

I watched him, to see if he was here as a hunter or was hunted. His responses to interaction with others here wasn't one of a spy or scout. The man was genuinely frightened of something and it wasn't me.

I had just decided to follow him when he caught sight of me. I had the hoodie on with my hair covered and the makeup and sunglasses, so he couldn't have recognized me instantly. Or so I hoped.

He didn't stay here, I knew that. So I would follow and find where he was hiding. After that? I didn't know, but killing was at the top of the list. once I'd gotten the information I wanted from him.

He was walking towards the kitchen area when someone caught his attention. She was tall, with a shape that would attract any man's attention even if it was shrouded in the ragged and often bulky clothing common to this area. But it was way she moved that really attracted attention. She was like a sated hunting cat walking through a herd of deer. The 'deer' weren't exactly afraid of her, but they did tend to move away a bit wherever she walked.

And who wore sunglasses inside when it was dim enough in the place that it was hard to see into some corners?

When she turned to look at him, a wisp of thick snow white hair escaped from her hood.

She gave no indication that she recognized him, but the chill ran from his tailbone to his neck. Even disguised he knew the person he was looking at was Zephyr.

Stewart ruthlessly pushed the terror he was feeling down. Hoping the creature hadn't recognized him, he watched the people cooking and didn't see Meg among them. That gave him the excuse to head back towards the doors to outside without seeming to run.

Once he got outside he breathed a long sigh of relief and took time to get his breathing under control. What he hadn't noticed was the lithe, pantherish graceful form that had so frightened him gliding across the warehouse floor to follow him.

I followed him carefully, never showing myself whenever he looked back or around, which told me he had become somewhat streetwise. I still followed, but at times moved ahead when it was clear he only had one direction to go. So I wasn't always behind him.

One thing that kept me from just killing him was that he had information I badly wanted. Like just who or what was killing indiscriminately in my territory and leaving the bodies to be found. Whoever it was had to come from the same place I did. The man had information I needed. And he was definitely running scared from something that wasn't me. He knew something. More than one thing that I needed to know.

As I followed I committed his scent to mind. I'd pulled the hood off and put my sunglasses in a pocket while the sun went down. Shadows were my friends and I could hide in them easily after sundown in spite of my pale skin and hair. Besides, when I did confront him, I wanted him have no doubt regarding who was standing in front of him.

He'd made it back to his own safe haven without seeing anything to indicate he had been followed. Not that the idea helped much. As he entered the run down apartment building he failed to notice the shadows in the street shift as one approached the building.

Once in his apartment, with the door triple locked and braced, he took time to breath a sigh of relief.

A sudden breeze caught his attention. He knew he'd shut and locked all the windows before he left so he turned towards the source of the breeze.

She was there. Standing in his apartment in front of an open window in all her pale, white haired glory, or terror.

“Hello.” She gave him a smile that showed far to much pointed canine teeth and looked at him as she was observing some disgusting specimen in biology class.

“You know who I am.” It was a statement, not a question. “I remember you, too.”

His bowels threatened to let loose as he stared, transfixed like a mouse being stalked by a snake. “Yes.”

“Good.” She widened that frightening, terrifying smile. “Now, give me one good reason for not killing you right now.”

 

---

 

His bowels were threatening to loosen as he frantically told himself she had not said kill him right now. Even if his hind brain was screaming in terror he managed to keep looking at her while trying to come up the reason or reasons she had wanted. “I — I can tell you things give you information you want.”

“Can you now?” Tilting her head a fraction her gaze never left his eyes. “Tell me then and we'll see if that's worth your life. First I want to know why you did this to me.”

Stewart looked at her and let out a long sigh. “We didn't. You were this way when the pickup team brought you to the facility. All of you 'subjects, patients, changed spontaneously. Nothing we did or could have done would have triggered the types of changes you and others went through. All we really intended to do was study you, learn what happened and try to find a way to keep it from happening to others.”

“So you 'studied' us with torture?” Her anger was threatening to erupt again but was quite visibly pushed away.

“I know you probably won't believe this, but originally that was never my intention, at least.” He lowered his gaze and whispered. “But much to my shame that's exactly what the research devolved to. The project head and other higher ups started to think of you and other types of the changed ones as no more than slightly dangerous lab animals.”

“If you and your fellow torturers didn't cause this, then what changed me and the others?”

“Some time ago creatures from myth and legend started appearing all over the world. What they called a Djinn in the middle east, Something called a Kami in Japan, Faeries, creatures that no one has ever seen except in fairy tales have been cropping up everywhere.

“These appearances correlate with a new form of energy that was detected some years ago though it was in very minute quantities, was difficult to detect or even measure at first. But it's increasing, getting stronger in an exponential curve. The more of the stuff we detect, the more fantastic creatures appear.” Stewart let out another long sigh. “Hell we didn't even know what to call it for quite awhile so many researchers started calling it Magic as a joke. Seems the joke was on them because I believe that's exactly what the stuff is.”

“That's pretty hard to swallow.” Zephyr stared out a window instead of glaring directly at him for a few moments.

“Any harder than what happened to you, and the others being held at the facility?” He asked simply.

“I suppose not.” That burning gaze returned to him while she regarded him thoughtfully. “You reek of fear even terror, Stewart. But I don't smell intentional lies or see them in your expression and posture. You actually believe this.”

He nodded.

“Why did you run, bolt from the fold?”

“Mainly because I think we're making enemies, deadly enemies, of beings that humans are going to have to deal with for a long time to come.”

“That's not the only reason, is it?” She probed.

“No, I made sure that you would wake up, regain consciousness before the guards had you safely restrained, and that there were no real impediments to you getting out safely. I had no idea of just how really deadly you could be, no one did up to then. That escape terrified us all, Zephyr and I believe my former bosses suspected that I was responsible, deliberately responsible for your getting out. They planned on my having an 'accident', I'm sure.”

“You've given me a lot to think about here, Stewart.” She turned back to the window. “Do you know anything about another one like me out here?”

“I have a pretty good idea about that one.” He said faintly. “Taggert. The facility's security chief. He was acting strange, even for him, just before I slipped the leash.”

“Taggert.” She mouthed the name as if tasting it and finding that taste to be extremely unpleasant. “Tell me about him.”

It didn't even occur to Stewart to wonder how she already knew Taggert was male. “A bad one even when he was still human, if he is the one. Amoral, vicious, and wouldn't have hesitated to kill anyone he was ordered to, or if he counted them as a threat at all. He started out military, the kind of ops that no one talks about, but he was too nasty for even those branches of the military to tolerate. They retired him several years ago and put him in charge of supposedly harmless lab facility in the Rockies, high up in the mountains. I imagine you can work what that lab was without my saying it.”

Her answer was a nod. “Can you get me back to that hell hole?”

“I'll give directions if you're so intent on committing suicide.” Shaking his head he finished. “But I'm not going near that place if I can help it.”

“Can you get me there?” Her voice had a force that was hard to ignore, or deny.

“Yes.” His answer was whispered. “But I'd be dead within seconds of getting inside.”

“You will be dead if you stay here, too. If not from me, then someone else, maybe this Taggert or his underlings. He is here with a team, isn't he?”

“Yes.” He softly admitted.

“In that case, Stewart,” she gave him a thoughtful look, “Lets see if we can't do something to help your survivability.”

“H...”

She was on him before he even saw her move.

He had no real time for reaction before I had hold of him by the shoulders with my fangs buried in his neck. I made small soothing noises as his blood flowed into me. Hot, rich, red human blood. The kind that whoever or whatever made me into this creature that I was meant for me to drink. Once the flow started slowing and his heart was beginning to falter, I pulled away from his throat and gently laid him on the floor.

“Now, hush for a second or two.” I told him while he fought for life. “It will be over soon.”

He was dying but I needed him just a bit further along for what I intended to try. I cut my wrist with a fingernail then set the wound to his mouth. “Drink now. You need what I'm giving you in more than one way, Stewart. That's right, drink.”

He tried pulling away at first and I held him gently but firmly without letting my wrist leave his mouth. Drink or Die, the choice is yours now.”

His eyes watched me in a mix of horror and wonder as he slowly began to lap at the blood going into his mouth then latched onto my wrist with both hands while he truly began to drink.

“Better.” I encouraged. “It will be over soon.”

He protested when I finally pulled my wrist away, and I watched in near fascination myself as the wound healed without so much as a scar. After carefully arranging him on the dilapidated couch and covering him with a threadbare blanket I found in the tiny bedroom I seated myself in an ancient easy chair to observe him. “Sleep now. I'll watch over you until you awaken.”

He slept until just before dawn.

His latest feeding was interrupted by something he couldn't really identify. With a snarl, he killed his latest victim then tried to search for the feeling, the sense of something unusual that had interrupted him. As he left the alley, he still couldn't find that white eyed bitch. Or really get a handle on what he was feeling.

“Ahh.” He finally nodded to himself. “There is another one of us here now.”

But to his frustration, he couldn't locate that one either. Someone would slip up and betray where they were, he was sure. This new one would die, just like that damed Zephyr would. And the new one would make mistakes the bitch hadn't. Maybe that one would lead him to her in time. He could vaguely feel the link between the bitch and this new one. Eventually, one would give the other away enough for him to find them. Then the other would die, too.

“Patience.” He told himself while still fruitlessly questing for that opening. “One of them will make a mistake. Then I'll find them.”

He dismissed the vague sense of foreboding he was feeling. The bitch and the newbie together would be no match for him.

He woke with a start of terror as he remembered what had happened earlier. He was on the couch, which was pretty uncomfortable and covered with a blanket. Once he got the blanket out of the way, the first thing he did was reach for his throat. It was smooth, unblemished and not the ruin his memories told him it should be.

“Welcome back.” A familiar voice greeted him with amusement clear in it.

“Did I have a dream? A nightmare?” He asked while still touching his throat where he remembered the savaging she had given him should have still been evident.

“No.” Zephyr answered with a shrug. “The things you remember happened.”

But — you killed me.”

“More or less.” She agreed then gave him a little grin. “But are you dead now?”

“How the Hell would I know?”

“This is real, quite real, Stewart.” She answered. “I need you alive, and just don't have the luxury of time to watch over you all the time.”

“What did you do?” He questioned with fear evident in his voice and from the way he huddled back ito the couch and pulled the blanket around him.

“I turned you.” She shrugged.

“What?”

“I made you like me.”

“Nooo!” he shouted, trying to deny that possibility with every fiber of his being.

“Yes.” She told him in a curiously gentle way given what he already knew about her. “I need you alive, Stewart. I can't be with you, or watching you all the time.”

“I look nothing like you!” He shouted back. “I'm not white, my hair isn't white... Are my eyes?”

“No.” She answered seeming amused and perplexed at the same time. “You're pale, but still look human.”

“Why?” He asked. “Why did you do that to me?”

“Because I need you alive.” Was her succinct answer. “A human trying to kill you would have to be very lucky, or very good to do that now.”

“What about Taggert?” He questioned then added. “And just how can I keep up with his people? They're all trained to kill. I'm just a geek scientist.”

“Taggert is another matter.” Zephyr shrugged. “Don't confront him, don't let him catch you or you will die. As for his minions? You will find that you are stronger, faster, and a lot tougher than they are.”

“I don't know how to fight.”

“Learn.” She told him flatly. “I can and will teach you how to do that.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because you are my firstborn.” She told him. “My first child. I will do whatever is needed to teach you, keep you alive, and would kill anyone who genuinely threatens you if you can't defend yourself.”

He had no answer, or question for that one.

“For now,” She went on, “gather the things you want to keep. We're leaving this place.”

 

---

 

“Oh, don't ever think I'm at all happy with you, or that I've instantly forgiven you even if you know that I need to keep you around.” I told him. “You know things, have access to things that I need and couldn't get without you. If you're working under the mistaken assumption that I turned you to save your miserable life forget that now. I need you, for my own reasons and those aren't likely to change in any foreseeable future but I did not, not do this out of altruism.”

He looked at me and the fear was still plain on his face, but that didn't bother me. Truthfully, I don't know if I could have outright killed him but knew I had come close.

“I don't think you'll believe that I've done you any favors, Stewart.” I gave him a thin smile. “Once the changes start progressing like I think they will.”

He had already changed a little. Not enough that most people would notice, but he had. And no, he wasn't going to like that at all once he started noticing the changes.

“The only reason you're alive now is that I need what you know, your access to places, and your help to get those. Don't make the mistake of thinking I like or love you just now. Those are things you'll have to earn and the only way you're going to do that is to show me, do things, that will tell me what you believe to be true are true.” I told him. “If you leave the straight and narrow here, try going back to them or give in to the blood lust this Taggert has, I'll kill you and find another way. Understand?”

He closed his eyes and shuddered. “Yes.”

“I can feel it in you,” I softly told him, “The hunger. Consider fighting that a test. If you can hold back from feeding on anyone around you and are able to keep doing that, you just might pass it. I can find you suitable meals, lord knows there are enough of those around here for us. But if you attack and drain one — ONE — innocent, you will die, and I will find you if you run.

“If you can control the hunger and not attack those around you'll have proven to me that you deserve a chance to live. Fail in that, and as I said...”

“You'll kill me yourself.” He nodded. “I understand.”

“Do you understand why?” I asked. “Or is that simply agreeing to all that just in order to keep me from saying more or killing you now?”

“Both, I think.” He said after a few seconds of thought. “If I start preying on everyone around me, I think I'd want you to kill me. I don't want innocents to die because of me.”

“Thats a good start.” I nodded then waved around the place he called an apartment. “Now get the things you want to keep, the ones you can't replace. We have to get out of here.”

Once that conversation was over he did start looking for the precious things he'd managed to keep and had no way of replacing. The picture of his daughter pushing her face into the birthday cake on her second birthday. The old and tattered picture of his wife Claire at their prom when they were in high school after she shocked him to near fainting by agreeing to go out with him.

There wasn't much when he finished. A few photos, a ring (not his wedding ring) several greeting cards.

After all this time, were those the only things he considered important enough to not leave behind?

Stewart realized that was a sad commentary on fifteen years of marriage and having a beautiful thirteen year old daughter. Where had he gone wrong with all that? He hadn't been there for a lot of his daughter Diane's important events because of work. He hadn't even manged to be there for his wife when her parents died.

He'd been a decent, if indifferent person in the past.

Seeing that hurt more than anything he'd ever gone through.

“If I don't pass your test, Zephyr,” he finally whispered, “I hope I'll ask you to kill me.”

“I will.” She answered and Stewart had no idea if it was promise, threat, or actually caring.

“I'm ready.” He'd packed some clothes and the pathetically few pictures in a backpack.

“Good, she said and gestured to the window. “Let's go.”

“But it's a three story drop to the ground.” He protested.

“You have a lot to learn, Stewart.” Was her only answer before she threw him out the window.

He screamed like a little girl when I tossed him out the window. After hearing the thud of his landing I looked out the window to see him sitting on the ground wearing a befuddled expression at his survival.

Grinning, I climbed out the window, closed it then using the abundant hand and foot holds in the old brick and Masonry, quickly climbed down the wall then stood beside him.

“I think I broke my ankle.” He told me with an accusing glare.

Kneeling down beside him I looked both at both of his ankles over and saw that one was at strange angle. “I'd say that's a pretty accurate assessment.”

“Why did you do that?”

“Lesson one, Stewart,” I told him while gently handling the broken ankle, “there is usually an easy way and a hard way to do things. Take the easy one if it doesn't mean you'll get killed or someone who doesn't need to will die because of your actions. You left your apartment the hard way, I did it the easy way.”

“You threw me out the damned window!” He almost shouted then winced as I felt for the damage that had caused.

“Yup.” I answered with a little grin. “The best way for someone to learn the real differences between the hard way and the smart, easy way is force them to do it the hard way so they won't forget. I'll bet you'll never forget this, will you?”

“Hell, no!” He shot back then repeated. “You threw me out the window.”

“We've been through that part.” I said simply. “Get over it. You are now stronger, faster, have much better reflexes, but that doesn't mean you are invulnerable or immortal. Tell me what you felt and did during your fall.”

“I screamed and thought you were killing me after all, then...” He trailed off.

“Then?” I prompted.

“Things really slowed down, I twisted in the air, had time to figure out what kind of landing I had the best chance of surviving then went into a roll right after my feet hit the ground.”

“See?” I answered with a grin. “You were never really in danger there but learned that you can still get hurt. Now for lesson number two.

As I said, we're stronger, faster, tougher than humans, but we aren't invulnerable. We can be hurt, and the injury is serious enough, we could die.”

“Got that.” Stewart gasped as his ankle obviously gave him another wave of pain.

“Hurt a lot?” I asked almost innocently.

“Hell yes!” He responded.

“Next lesson.” I said while grasping the injured ankle and foot it was attached to. “We heal very fast.”

“Good to hear.” He panted.

“If we don't get the bones straight,” I went on as I jerked and forced his bones into proper alignment, “before we heal, we, or in this case you, would be half crippled and need to break the bone or bones again to get that set right.”

His yelp wasn't quite a scream, but it was close. “DAMN! You could have warned me!”

“Another lesson learned that you won't forget.” I grinned at him.

“No shit.” He managed to get out with sweat beading his face. Then got a look of surprise as the pain faded. “What just happened?”

“You healed.” I told him simply.

“Really?”

“Stand up and test it.” I said with a shrug.

She was right. As he cautiously got to his feet expecting a jab of lightning like pain all that happened was that he stood up. No pain, no ache, nothing. “This is amazing.”

“One of the perks of being like we are.” She answered with a little shrug.

“I feel sick.” He answered. “Like I haven't eaten in a few days.”

“You need to feed.” She told him without one show of emotion. “Healing like that takes a lot of energy and you've depleted yours.”

“Feed?” He asked.

“You need blood.” Zephyr said. “Human blood would be best.”

“But you told me not to do that just a few minutes ago. He protested while feeling more than a little nauseous at the idea of actually biting someone and drinking their blood.”

“I also said innocents.” She flatly told him. “There are more than enough in this place who prey on the weaker ones. They need to learn what a real alpha predator is like. And trust me, those people are far from innocent.”

“But..”

“No buts.” She said without a hint of remorse or disgust at the topic. “You need to feed, and that kind is fair prey as far as I'm concerned. Come, we'll find you a suitable meal.”

Still having his reservations, Stewart followed her. The idea of actually killing a human being wasn't something he liked to think about. But the hollow feeling in his stomach and other places tried very hard to quell that sensibility.

I led him through the dark streets, searching for just the right prey.

“What are we doing?” He asked and I could tell he was getting used to being able to see things in the dark. I'd figured out that my vision went into the ultra violet and infrared but he was still getting used to that.

“Seeing interesting things?” I asked.

“Yeah.” He said in a distracted manner. “I see things glowing in the dark.”

“Part of what we are.” I answered simply. “We can see in the dark, even when no heat sources show as red in our vision.”

“I'm seeing that. Literally.” He answered.

“Don't let it overwhelm you.” I told him while still leading him through some of the nastier places in this slum. “Pay attention to what's around you without falling victim to the 'pretty lights' you see.”

Prey like I was looking for was easy enough to find. They strutted, stalked, or just sauntered, but every one thought they were an alpha predator. Time to show them what a real alpha predator was.

There were three of them, relative newcomers to the are but had already established that they took what they wanted when they wanted. And thought of themselves as the alpha predators in this place. I suppressed a laugh at that.

“Hey ladies.” One of them started while looking both of us over with obvious hunger in that look. “You looking for a good time?

Well, if you are or aren't, it doesn't matter.” He smirked. “My friends and I are going to show you one in a few minutes here.”

I moved faster than they could see, and had them all laid out in front of the alleyway they had come out of. “Help me move them back into the dark.” I told Stewart.

“Why?” He asked.

I pointed to one of the would be rapists and simply said. “Feed.”

He wanted to resist, to hang on to last of his humanity. But the scent of the blood in the three toughs had his mouth watering.

“It's what we do to stay alive.” Zephyr said as she knelt over one the guys and put her mouth to his neck.

He did the same, savoring the hot, salty sensation of what he was taking. When he'd finished with the first one, Zephyr gestured to the other. “Feed.”

Much to his shame, delight, horror and satisfaction, he did. And felt much better once he'd done so.

She then moved the bodies towards the sewer, opening a manhole someone with her build shouldn't have been able to do without help and negligently tossed the bodies into it then put the heavy cover back.

“The rats will get them.” He protested with a slightly sick feeling in his stomach.

“They will get rid of the evidence that we've been here.” She answered with a shrug. “Rats help get rid of the garbage, and they have to eat, too.”

“But..,”

“No buts, here.” She told him emphatically. “That hides the fact that we've been here and fed. Or would you rather leave a trail that Taggert and his could follow?”

“Point taken.” He admitted then started to follow her out of the alley before something hit his conscious mind like a sledge hammer. “Did that guy call us Ladies?”