I've Got a Nice Big Vampire Problem

Lysias raised his head, took in a deep breath, and just as he prepared to roar Yenta's name, she walked in, saying,

"Boy, you better not use that tone with me."

Lysias' eyes narrowed at the thirty-something woman in front of him. Her piercing blue eyes were ageless, and as they met his, humour sparked in their depths.

Lysias was not amused. He was too stressed to be amused.

"I didn't even speak."

Yenta nodded, glancing at her surroundings and letting her eyes rest on the map. "But the tone you would have used would have not pleased me."

"My goal is not to please you," Lysias snapped.

Yenta's eyes snapped up from the map to meet his gaze, suddenly stern and unwavering. "You better damn well please me. I know what you want to know, and I won't tell you if you're going to act like this."

Lysias' nostrils flared and he stared into Yenta's iris', the emotion in them so much like the one in his.

"Fine," he growled. "Did anyone follow you down the hall?"

"Of course not," Yenta answered, looking back at the map. "Now what was it you wanted to ask me?"

Lysias kept his steely gaze on her and she ignored it. "I thought you said you know the answer to my question."

"I do, humour me."

It took all Lysias had not to growl at the wise woman in front of him. He didn't want to get her angry. Though Lysias was the leader of his clan, he had a lot of respect for Yenta. She had been around twice as long as he had, and had a way of knowing everything.

"I want to know why I'm so attracted to this girl," Lysias said.

Yenta grinned.

"You're in love."

Lysias' answer was filled with almost unreasonable rage. "I've never seen this girl before!"

"But you smelled her, and that's all that matters," Yenta said, running her hands over the map.

Lysias growled. "Why?"

"It's something called Intertwining. Her scent is somehow mixed in with your senses; it's normally a blood transaction of some sort," Yenta said.

"I bite people all the time," Lysias argued.

Yenta ignored his tone and continued. "And what do you do with them afterwards?"

"Well, I finish them off."

"Exactly."

Lysias' eyes widened. He had almost never left one alive. He could only remember one.

The memory was surprisingly vivid. She was around twenty three. She had had her back to him, walking down the dark rainy street in New York. Her arms had been crossed across her chest and she had been out of breath from running the last block to get home faster.

Lysias had come up from behind her, grabbed her and pulled her into the alleyway beside her house. He clamped down on her neck through her hood and she had gasped.

"I have a baby, please!"

The moment the blood hit his tongue, he was senseless. He could only feel himself sucking the life out of the woman he was clutching onto.

"I have a baby!"

His eyes broke through the haze and searched down her front. Her stomach bulged out, around six months pregnant.

No, he had made himself a promise long ago. He would not kill an unborn innocent. Live people sinned, which was how he justified what he did. Unborn babies had done nothing. Absolutely nothing. He even refrained from killing children, because they, too, were painfully sin free.

He remembered how hard it was to unclamp his jaw from the ladies neck. He remembered how he had almost dived back in. The smell of blood had been unbearably potent.

The lady dropped to her knees and crawled out of the alleyway. Lysias barely noticed her as he took off and fed on the nearest man he found.

Lysias looked at Yenta, his jaw clamped. "The baby."

Yenta nodded. "The baby."

"Abigail is the baby."

"You're right."

"Tell me more about this Intertwining."

Yenta grinned. "It's almost irreversible-"

"Almost?" Lysias said.

"Well what you have to do is kill the woman you bit, who, let me remind you, is Abigail's mother. And a vampire."

"If it gets rid of this curse I'd kill every vampire in the world."

Yenta stood stock still, staring at Lysias. "Well you'd better kill her mother before Abigail gets here. Because once you see her, there's no going back."

________________________________________

I lay on the hard wood floor in the living room, staring at the black ceiling. The huge stereo Falvor had brought home yesterday blasted heartfelt, hardcore songs about cheating, love and being sorry. I was barely listening to them.

I was resting inside myself, listening to the hollow sound of my breathing and the dull thud of music pounding in my ears. Everything around me seemed relaxing, as if nothing really mattered at the moment.

Falvor lay beside, still as stone. I hadn't felt him move since we lay down, two hours ago. I didn't really know why he was lying with me on the floor, but he hadn't moved for as long as I had, so I didn't bother asking. I was too relaxed anyways.

My thoughts were nowhere and everywhere at the same time. Finally they chose a subject to revolve around while I dozed off.

I wondered where Conan was. What he was doing at that very moment. Was he still back with Salvador? Or was he now coming for me?

My calm acceptance that I had been holding together so well suddenly shattered. I realized, slowly, that being away from him hurt, and badly. That when he hadn't come for me, it hurt. I was plain old hurt, and I was no longer willing to hold that pain back to pretend I was okay. Because I wasn't.

My relaxed body stayed at its calm state while my mind kicked into overdrive.

I wanted Conan back. Though he might not want me, I wanted him. It might be impossible, because he still hadn't come for me was probably a sign of worse things, but I still wanted it.

I was going to find Conan and tell him this, though he might reject me. I had a sudden mind set determined now. Conan was my main objective.

It was burned into my skull, imprinted beside Conan's name and what he was. It was some sort of raw instinctual feeling that was telling me I had to look for Conan. Not at the moment, but soon. Very soon.

Then, my thoughts floated from my most recently obtained objective to another, more surprising part of thought process. It was my birthday.

As I stared at the ceiling, completely relaxed, and now joyful, my body started to revolt.

All the air left my lungs. My heart rate spiked and my stomach twisted. I shot up and gasped for air as my muscles clenched and my head started to buzz. I crawled to my hands and knees and clutched at my unmoving chest with my one hand while the other held me up. My vision blurred, and my heart beat pounded in my ears. It sounded like one of those animated sound tracks of a beating heart, slow and exaggerated.

A buzzing noise sounded in my left ear, barely audible because of the pulse in my head. Something beside me moved. Panic shot through me. What was that? Was it them who was doing this to me?

It took me a moment, but when I realized who it was, I became as relaxed as anyone could be when their lungs stopped working.

Falvor was beside me, his palms flat on the floor, his mouth moving faster than I could see. My blurry eyes didn't help. I tried my very best to inhale, opening my mouth and compressing my lungs, trying to suck air in. It wouldn't work. My body refused to intake air.

I rapidly blinked, trying to get rid of the haze in my eyes. It improved my eye sight marginally. Looking up, I saw Falvor on the floor in front of me, and by the small details I could see on his face, I knew he was terrified.

I removed my left arm from my chest and put it on his face, wanting him to not look at me like that anymore. He was the strongest man I knew; he wasn't allowed to look so horrified.

The dramatic pulse in my ears started to slow. That's when the real fear set in. I was dying. I was actually dying at the ripe age of eighteen.

My eyes started to dart around and the lack of air made my chest ache. My hand left Falvor's face and brought itself back to my chest, which began to pound on my breast. I was trying to make my heart speed up. The pulse continued to slow. Falvor disappeared.

I continued to writher and hit myself until I knew that I was doing no good. It seemed like forever until Falvor returned.

How long would this suffocation take? I was sure it had been at least five minutes. Should I have been unconscious by now? I looked up at Falvor to see the same painstakingly scared face. He was now sitting upright, his fingers through the wooden floor, staring at me as if I were breaking his heart.

I crawled towards him, my empty gasps for air becoming more apparent in my head. I put my hands on his legs and he pulled me onto his lap, cradling me into him. I stared at him and he stared at me. Even in my state of dying, I wondered how unattractive I looked at the moment. I was probably drooling or had a snot bubble or something.

The buzzing noise happened again, this time more distinct. It seemed to be just one word he was repeating over and over again.

That word was, "No."

And then he bent his head into my chest, inhaled deeply, threw his head back and roared.

________________________________________

Conan knew they were being followed. He had known it for the past ten minutes. So had Mackenzie and so had Gavin. So when he caught her smell – that heavenly, gorgeous and hell loosing smell – he knew what they were chasing him for. And he knew it would take everything he had not to sprint right for her.

So the moment he caught that full blast of the intoxicating smell that was Abigail, he grabbed onto the nearest tree and flung himself back, towards the two vampires from Lysias' clan.

Mackenzie and Gavin did so too, their actions following his not a half a second later.

As Conan engaged with the larger vampire of the two, he thought of then ten times he had been attacked since he had left the airport. Lysias wanted Abigail, that he knew, but the real question was why.

Lysias knew that Abigail was no longer with Salvador's clan, and he knew why she had left. Did he want her because of the ultimate humiliation that Salvador would feel knowing he lost? Or did Lysias just want to do what Salvador wanted; to kill her and settle it themselves, forget the prophecy.

As he ripped the vampires knee cap out of his stone flesh, he thought of Falvor. He thought of the wretched, nasty, inhumane things he was going to do to Falvor. Those fifty years he spent in captivity would be nothing to what he had planned for him. He took Conan's love away, and for that he would pay dearly.

Conan was nothing if not in love with Abigail. He was absolutely sure he was deeply, madly, infuriatingly in love with her. So obsessively, unquestionably, ultimately enamoured with her it almost made him sick. He figured it out right after he left the airport. Conan was sure he had been in love with her longer than that, but he figured that the revelation was his starting point.

It was her hair; her eyes; her smile; her laugh; her adorable pout when she cried; her stubborn, commanding, striking attitude; her indecisive ways; her confusing, constantly changing emotions; and her small, warm arms wrapped around his neck. It was her. And she was his; he didn't care how mad she got at him.

The fact that she might have run away had crossed his mind once, but the absolute absurdity of it made him shake his head. If he felt so strongly about her, there was no way she didn't feel at least half as strongly about him. Conan was sure she hadn't run. Absolutely sure.

Once the vampire he had been fighting was beheaded, he looked back to see the other vampire dead and buried already. Abigail's scent drifted into his mind and his thoughts of burying his opponent abandoned him. She was close, and nothing else mattered.

He looked up from the fresh patch of upturned soil to Mackenzie and Gavin, who were standing close to each, their hands behind their backs, waiting for instruction.

"Can you sense anymore followers?"

Both of them shook their head. Conan noticed Mackenzie was leaning away from Gavin. For a moment he thought they had had a disagreement, but then another blast of Abigail's scent washed through him and he realized that Mackenzie was only leaning towards the smell of her best friend.

A roar echoed through the trees, bouncing through the air, embedding itself into nature. Everything seemed to still. It came from the direction Abigail was in.

Conan tried not to break down the tree in front of him as he took off towards both Abigail and the roar. As a million horrid possibilities screamed through his mind, he realized that was a roar of the truly heartbroken. That was a roar belonging to a vampire that had just lost everything.

Then, as that thought registered, another thought came after. He leaned forward, running so fast he almost couldn't comprehend what he was passing.

He would not allow that to happen. She would not die.