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 The Changing Of The Guard By CSquared



   Chapter 2: Perhaps I should explain.  As you've probably worked out, I
am a vampire.  Well, vampyr actually.  A more ancient, more pure breed. 
Each of us is descended from Nosferatu either directly or indirectly. 
Those of us who are indirect (like me) need to be `sired' to unlock our
powers, while those of us who are pure are born vampyric.  Indirect
descendency is difficult.  What happened is that somewhere back in my past,
a direct descendant married a non-descended.  That creates a unison which
results in an indirect descendant.  Of course, once we're `sired', it's
impossible to tell us apart.

   Vampires are another matter.  They are the...  well, for want of a
better term, the `half-breeds'.  It's not a very nice term, it sounds like
white over black prejudice, but it's the best description.  A vampire is a
human who has been turned.  When they have a child, they have a vampire.  A
vampire can never become part of the vampyr bloodline.

   Getting back to the story, the girl had struggled out of the car, and
was crawling across the ground, leaving a thin trail of blood (none of
which was hers).  She was making gestures like a cat trying to cough up a
hairball.  I stood up from the dead man, and walked towards her.  I soon
got an explanation for the man's grave injuries.  She finally got the
obstruction out of her throat.  Half of the man's cock flopped onto the
road.  When the gun had been fired, she had been so shocked she bit it off.
The immediate danger to her life gone, she curled up in a ball on the
floor, and began crying.  I knelt down next to her, and lifted her up until
she was sitting, rather than lying.  I wrapped my arms around her, and
rocked back and forth, cooing, "Shhh...  shhh, it's ok now.  You're safe.
No-one's going to hurt you." After a few minutes, she seemed to cry herself
out, and looked up at my face with watery eyes.  "Who..." she asked,
"who... are you?" I smiled warmly at her.  "My name's Lucien." I replied.
"Lucien Tschostacovich.  Everyone calls me Luke."

   That's not quite true.  Granted, it is my name, but not everyone calls
me Luke.  Only humans, and those close to me, call me Luke.  Everyone else
calls me Lucien.  It's a sign of respect.  Despite my young age, I am a
very senior vampyr.  Well, I say young.  Young by vampyr standards, anyway.
I was turned when I was 19.  However, this was over two hundred years ago.
Actually, let's see.  I lost count after my hundredth year.  I was born
1740, which would make me...  holy shit.  That makes me 264.  Time has worn
easily on my shoulders.  I was turned when I was 19, I only look about 22
now.  I have known vampires turned at the same kind of time as me, who are
no longer with us.  Not through any fault of our enemies, either.  Through
simple old age.  That's another of the bonuses of being a pure-breed.  We
live for millennia with no problems whatsoever.  Our longetivity depends on
our age at the point of our turning.  Since I was very young, there's at
least another 3, 4 thousand years in me before I reach middle age.

   Normally, I would have drained the girl too.  But this time, there was
something different.  I couldn't bring myself to kill her.  She looked so
beautiful, curled up in my arms, looking innocently up at me with tears in
her deep blue eyes.  Even in this light, her blonde hair shone.  Her
complexion was perfect, which was a blessing in itself.  She looked about
15, so if she'd managed to avoid acne then she was a lucky girl.  A twinge
of pain in my leg reminded me of the bullet.  It couldn't do any lasting
harm, but if I left it in, then my leg would soon heal over it, sealing it
inside.  That could cause problems.  I can't stand sharp objects, you see.
It's kind of a survival instinct for vampyrs and vampires alike, as stakes
and sunlight are the only things that can kill us.  Actually, that's
another half truth.  Vampyrs are immune to sunlight.  Vampires have none of
that luck.  And just let me dispell another myth.  Both vampyrs and
vampires have reflections.  None of that shit of not showing up in mirrors.
Well, not any more.  It does need a very precise and smooth mirror to show
us.  We don't reflect in water, for instance.  The reason for the stories
of vampires not having reflections arose from my time period.  Mirrors were
often flawed.  They would reflect everything except us.  It was quite
annoying, actually.  I had to avoid rooms with mirrors in.  Otherwise,
people would notice.

   I needed the bullet out quickly, in order to avoid being slit open to
get it out.  I leaned the girl against the crashed car, and stood up.  She
buried her face in her arms, but looked up again when she heard the all-too
familiar sound of tearing fabric.  I had torn a large hole around the
bullet wound in my tight black jeans.  That shocked her in itself.  I
balled my hands into fists, and closed my eyes.  I strained, and tensed
muscles that had lain dormant for almost three years.  They shrieked their
protest, but contorted into action.  I bared my teeth, clenching them tight
together.  The bullet started to move - I could feel it.  Within a minute,
the reddened metal cleared the skin, and popped free of my leg, tinkling
against the road.  I gasped a breath; I had been holding it until then.  I
opened my eyes and looked at the girl.  She was pressing herself tight
against the car, staring at the bullet.  I grimaced.  Shit.  Maybe that
wasn't the best thing to do in front of her.  "Look, whoever you are," she
said, her voice quivering, "I'm grateful for you saving me, I really am. 
But...  I don't know how you did it.  Or that.  And I don't think I want to
know.  I don't think I ever want to see you again.  Or hear from you again.
There's something weird going on here, and it's scaring me.  Please, just
leave me alone.  I can make my way home." I sighed.  "No." I said.  "I
can't let you do that.  You're in no state to be on your own right now."
This was true, and I was a gentleman.  I was part of a noble family back
home in Novosibirsk.  I had been raised to protect members of the opposite
sex, and the habits of a lifetime, especially one as long as mine, die
hard.

   "No." she said.  "Please.  Please leave me alone." I shook my head. 
"One way or another, I'm coming with you, so you can either tell me where
you live, or you can stay with me for the night and I'll call your... 
parents?" She nodded.  "In the morning.  Now which is it going to be?" She
was in turmoil.  She didn't want me to know where she lived, but she also
didn't want to come with me.  In the end, she replied, "I'll come with
you." I nodded, and held out my hand to help her up.  She stood on rather
shaky feet, and was wrapping her arms around her, both to keep warm and to
cover her magnificent breasts.  I slipped my trenchcoat off, and laid it
across her shoulders.  The gesture seemed to relax her a little, and I put
my arm around her waist to help her to walk.  She'd had a hell of a shock,
and wasn't going to get over it for a while.  I struggled down the road for
a while, before realising it was hopeless.  I was easily strong enough to
carry her, but it just wasn't the right thing to do right now.  I reached
into my pocket, and removed a slim-line black mobile phone.  I flipped it
open, and pressed a pre-set number.  The phone bipped a few times, then I
put it to my ear.

   _<Hello?>_ said the voice on the other end.  "Terry?" I said.  "Listen,
it's Lucien." _<Lucien?  Oh, hey, man!  What's up?>_ "My death count, for
one." _<Ha!  Nice!  But you wouldn't call just for that.  What's going
on?>_ "I've saved a girl." _<So?  Drain her already!>_ "I...  can't."
_<Can't, huh?  You must be going soft in your old age!  Good looking, is
she?>_ "Well, yes, but that's not the point." _<Suuuure it's not...>_ "Just
shut up, Terry!  I'll explain when I get to the house, but I need a car. 
Can you send someone out?" _<Sure, no problem.  Where are you?>_ "About
halfway along St Martin's Place." _<Ah, the big long one.  Yeah, ok. 
There'll be someone with you in about ten minutes.>_ "Thanks, man.  I
appreciate it." _<Hey, my pleasure.>_ I flipped the phone shut again, and
sat us both down on a wall.  "You'll be safe and warm soon, I promise." I
told her.  She shivered, and snuggled close to me for warmth.  I thanked
the stars that I was a vampyr.  Vampires are ice cold.  "I don't even know
your name." I said, almost in passing.  She was starting to fall asleep,
and murmured, "I'm Dana.  Dana Rivers.  Pleased to...  meet...  you..." Her
head slumped down on my lap, and a dainty little feminine snore escaped
from between her lips.  I stroked her shoulder length blonde hair, and
smiled.  Soon, the car arrived, and I picked Dana up in my arms and climbed
in.