Stain

She was running, sprinting basically. As fast as she could.

Because she was running for her life.

And she knew why.

The fear was eating her alive, the fear that thisperson thing was going to end up eating her alive.

Literally.

She stopped. There was a fork in her path, she looked frantically in both directions, not knowing which to take. Both looked dark and as equally menacing.

She knew she didn't have time to think.

Sweat caused her bangs of her dark brown hair to stick to her forehead.

The next thing she knew, pale, clammy hands with long sharp nails were digging into her throat and her back was slammed against bark by a ridiculously strong force.

He twisted his blood red lips into a smile, his deep, black, eyes becoming rounder.

Her fear deafened her, she had no idea what he was saying to her, but she was smart enough to know he was spitting insults.

He grimaced, his grip getting tighter. Her skin popped against the pressure of his nails, blood ran quickly down my throat and onto his hand.

He smiled, lunged back, and stabbed her neck with his stark white fangs, her throat pulsating.

The girl woke up.

She was sweating. Her heart was racing. White blankets were on her, she sat up, pushing them off herself and looking down.

She had on a black nightgown sort of thing, confused as to how she got it on.

Getting out of bed, her small feet touched the creaky hardwood floor, it was cold. Cold as sidewalk on a winter morning. The grey curtains over the window had bits of dust lightly fall off them as she pushed them open, looking out the window. The England sky's dismal, familiar grey was fading to a dark pitch black. How long had she been sleeping?

She sighed, gently pushing the curtains closed and making her way towards the door.

She wanted to find the man she had spoken to earlier. She was confused. She couldn't remember anything. Just the brutal nightmare she had had only moments ago. She wasn't able to even accumulate her own name.

Stepping out into the hallway, she saw dark velvet walls adorned with faded, sepia photographs of people from what looked like the early 1900s and late 1800s. There were large bookcases with books with titles on the spines that were in Old English dialect or far away foreign languages she failed to recollect.

But what did she know? Maybe everyone knew these languages, except her. Hell, she can't even think of her own name.

She stood in the doorway. Two men sat on a small sofa, talking and laughing. One familiar, the other not. The unfamiliar one stopped talking and stared at her. The familiar man also stopped talking and looked at her, standing up with a small smile on his face.

"Hello love. This is Silvan, my brother. Silvan, this is the young woman you met early this morning."

"I don't know him." She stuttered, wringing her hands in front of her at her own deposition. His smile got warmer, his red eyes sparkling.

"Of course you don't."

"What is your name?"

"Aleksander, at your service krasivaya zhenshchina."

He got down on one knee in front of the girl, kissing the top of her hand. Her eyebrows wrinkled together, her face displaying a confused frown. "What did you just call me?"

"Beautiful woman." He practically whispered.

She looked down, smiling softly at him, only to look up to glance at Silvan, he was looking at something.

He put it down, and looked across the room at them, smiling at her and his brother.

"Well, lovebirds."

Aleksander stood up, facing his brother.

"I must go run a few errands."

He placed a black Fedora on his head, the girl noticing the brown hair that fell at his shoulders.

"Where are the others?" Aleksander asked him as Silvan opened the main door.

"By the others do you mean all the other Nymphs or the maniac?"

Aleksander laughed, "The maniac."

"In the cellar. As you have requested, brother."

Aleksander smiled at him and nodded.

Silvan nodded back. "Lovely meeting you, miss."

"Lovely meeting you too, sir."

As Silvan shut the door behind him, Aleksander turned to look at the girl.

"Follow me."

As Aleksander lead her into a large and dark dining hall, they spoke small talk, of the weather, the time, the manor. Their hands occasionally brushed against one another.

He pulled a chair out for her and she sat in it, brushing down the skirt of her dress.

"I put the dress on you, you had fallen asleep."

They made eye contact, she slightly blushed, he just continued smiling.

"Hope you don't mind."

He returned to the table with a shot glass, a bottle of liquor, and a large vial with a label on it entitled "0 Aleksandr pozitivnye 1 nedelya", sitting down he poured the liquor into the shot glass along with a small bit of the scarlet liquid that was in the vile.

"Would you like some?"

She shot a glance at the vial, then politely whispered, "Oh no I'm fine."

He laughed, fixing her a larger glass. "Hun, you're going to be needing this stuff soon."

He pushed it over to her, she gave him a questioning look.

"Its 0 positive blood and vodka. Amazing taste, actually."

She took a small sip.

Warmness overcame her entire body, adrenaline pumped through her veins, they showed up on her arms, red.

Red? Her veins were normally blue.

He laughed, "You'll have to get used to that. Vampire blood runs red in the body, blue outside of the body. Very odd, but typical."

She looked down.

An awkward silence overcame them. He cleared his throat.

"Do you remember anything?"

She looked up at him, only to look down again. She shook her head and spoke softly, "No. But I had the most vivid dream."

He nodded and whispered, "As expected."

She looked up at him, this time her gaze remaining on him. "Tell me about yourself."

He took a shot of the cocktail he had made, made it again, then spoke in his cheery British accent, "My name is Aleksander, aged 114 and Vampire of the Reki Krovi coven. Silvan is my older brother. I'm originally from St. Petersburg, Russia. There really isn't much else to say. Haha."

"Why did you come here? Russia is so...beautiful, isn't it? And then you come to...Britain? The most dismal place on Earth?"

He sighed, taking yet another shot of his liquor. His voice changed from his cheery England voice to a rough, thick, Russian accent. "It was 1941. The Nazi Army had invaded Russia along with Adolf Hitler. I was with Silvan, Vikas, Vikas' former mate, Natasha, Mikel, before he went insane, and...her. We thought it would be best as we didn't want Hitler to find out about the Vampire and Nymphs, as we would be just another race for him to terrorize. We took a ship over here. I saw many, many crazy and sad things on that ship. We've been living in the Kingdom ever since."

She looked down, he took another shot.

"Who was she?"

"Who?"

His voice was still deep and rugged, she looked him in the eye. "You didn't give her a name, you just said her."

He swallowed. "A woman I once knew."

She looked at him, biting her lip.

He looked at her and smiled, "I think I should tell you what to expect as you grow into a Vampire."

She listened to what he told her, nodding ever so often, muttering a reply when needed. But all that remained on her mind was;: Who the hell was she? And who was this mysterious girl he spoke of..?