The Most Important Rule

The phone rang.

"I'll get it!" I shouted from my bedroom, scrambling up from my bed. I had spent the last twelve hours locked up in my room, door locked and shades drawn - now I just needed an excuse to escape my solitary confinement.

Why had I been cooped up in my room so long? Well, to avoid Rustan, of course. After we had kissed it was a bit awkward.

Foster had no idea what had happened, of course, so he just continued to hit on me as usual. However Rustan would always see this and, instead of being angry like he used to be, he would just smirk. Because he knew that he had kissed me last.

I wasn’t sure if he knew about the kiss Foster and I had shared. But if he did...then he would have known that I had rejected Foster. Rustan, however, I had kissed back.

And it wasn't just a cute little peck on the cheek.

Ugh.

"What?" I panted into the phone after I had sprinted down the stairs. I had been trying to beat the boys to the phone, so I had to run pretty darn fast.

"Chase, we've got another mission for you," said - yep, you guessed it - Thez.

"It's another one of those strange cases - vampires and werewolves are packing together in groups and terrorizing the city. You need to take care of it - and try to figure out why the hell they're doing it. This whole working-together business is starting to get me a bit concerned."

I made a sound of agreement. "We'll get right on it. Let me just tell the boys - "

As I turned around, Rustan and Foster just so happened to be standing right there - probably listening in on the conversation. They hadn't had any action for at least a week; they were eager to get out and hunt.

"Uh, alright. I guess they already know. Bye," I said and hung up.

"Okay then!" I said in a business-like manner, rubbing my hands together. "We've got another one of those gang things going on downtown."

"I know," Rustan cut in, "I was actually just there. I saw them.”

I didn't know what Rustan had been doing in the boondocks of the city, where most of the vampires tended to hunt for human prey. I'm not sure if I wanted to know, either. He had been living off of blood donations that D.a.r.c. sent us every week, but perhaps it wasn't very appetizing to him. Maybe it was like canned food; you can only handle its taste for so long.

The thought of Rustan hunting sent shivers down my spine. Would he actually do that? I hoped not. But honestly...I didn't know. I couldn't trust him.

"Anyway," Rustan continued, "I happened to see what they were doing. They were hunting, obviously - but it was different. It seemed as if they were organized in some sort. The way they were picking out victims, and then just letting some other humans just go...it was like they were looking for someone."

Normally this would have been a very serious situation. Unfortunately for me and everyone else that I worked with, I have the maturity level of a seven-year-old.

"Holy rusted metal, Batman! What are we going to do?" I said, throwing in a fake gasp for extra effect.

Yep, that's right. We have superhero names.

"Ooh, I know!" Foster shouted eagerly, raising his hand as if he was in second grade. “Pick me, pick me!"

"Shut up, Scooby," I replied coolly. "No one asked you."

Foster's pouted and gave me the puppy eyes.

I never fall for something like that. Ever. However, seeing as how Foster technically was a dog, he happened to be very good at it.

"Alright, fine, what's your idea?" I said with a sigh.

"We round up all of the gang members into one corner, and then kill them all at once," he said, nodding enthusiastically.

"Wow, that’s…actually a decent idea," I said.

“You’d be surprised, I’m chock full of ‘em,” Foster said sarcastically.

"Listen, we should probably hurry before all of the humans in New York go extinct," Rustan cut in. "So are you guys coming or what?"

Immediately Foster and I ran over to our respectable weaponry closets - mine held vampire hunting weapons, and his the werewolf-slaying weapons. Rustan, on the other hand, preferred to fight without any tools at all.

Rule #17: Humans can only kill vampires or werewolves using high-tech weapons. However, immortals can kill each other with their own bare hands.

Now that Foster was a werewolf, he didn't need to use any weapons either; however, he chose to continue using them. It made him feel human again, I suppose.

Rustan followed me to my closet. It kind of made me nervous, although I would never admit it. We hadn't really spoken to each other since the…incident. I looked up at him, who was giving me a smirk that would make even the devil jealous.

"What do you want?" I said and occupied myself in choosing weapons, so that I wouldn't have to make eye contact. I was terrified of blushing.

"I just wanted to tell you something," he said coolly, his breath caressing my face. I noticed that he was a cold person in general - his attitude was cold, his voice was always cool, his eyes were an icy blue...and he smelled like the first snowfall of winter. I never noticed it before, but this was the second time he's ever been this close to me, and I could definitely smell it now. It was a light, crisp scent; refreshing yet alluring.

"Oh? And what might that be?" I asked, keeping my voice determinedly steady as to not betray any emotions. I wanted to act like I didn't care.

Rustan then reached out and brushed his hand against my own, and his frosty touch made me shiver. "Your choice..." he said softly.

I waited for him to finish. My choice? My choice of what? Between him and Foster, or -

"Your choice of weapons," he continued, his voice not so soft anymore, "is absolutely terrible."

My heart fell. He was talking about weapons, nothing emotional or important. Shouldn't have assumed anything different...

"If you're going out to hunt vampires and werewolves, definitely forget about the wooden stakes." He took my hand - not in a romantic way at all - and directed it over to the silver weapons. "You might as well bring the daggers and pistol, since silver can kill both species. Seriously, Chase, I would have thought you knew better than that. What's gotten into you lately? It seems like you're really distracted by something."

He gave me a smirk that looked more like a sneer, and then he walked away.

As I watched him saunter off, one word came to mind:

Jackass.

-_-_-_-

We found the gang of immortals quite easily. I suppose the large group of eye-glowing freaks and the screams of humans as they were eaten kind of gave it away.

The scene was gruesome. Blood stained the streets. A steady flow of crimson seeped down the edges of the road and spilled into the sewers. Drained humans were scattered all over the place, their corpses morbidly decorating the city.

This is what downtown New York had turned into. A slaughter house.

Vampires and werewolves were running around in a crazed yet gleeful frenzy - they were happy to have such a feast, I suppose. There were still actually people in the streets, which was a surprise. I would have thought that they would have stayed hidden in their homes. People nowadays should know better than to go out at night.

And then I realized what had probably happened: the vampires had used mind control and lured all of the humans out. They didn't have to hunt for them - their prey just walked right into their hands. No hook and bait required.

Rustan and Foster hadn't been affected by the city-wide mind control, since they were obviously not human. I wasn't affected, but that's because I always keep my mental barrier up that protected me from this sort of stuff.

I couldn't help but wonder why they were doing this. Sure, feeding this way was easier for them, but using such a vast mind control took a lot of energy. It must have required a lot of vampires teaming up - which is something they never do. It made me wonder what their true motive was.

Before I started any fights, I lingered in the shadows and observed the immortals' behavior. Rustan's theory proved to be right; it was now undeniable that they were working together. And they were indeed looking for something specific.

I watched one particular vampire, who was going through humans by the dozen. He was darting through the crowd and would grab the humans forcefully as they ran down the street. (It appeared that after the people had been lured out, the mind control had worn off; as soon as they realized what was going on they immediately fled for safety.) The vampire picked out girls specifically, and then he would look at their face, seeing that they looked like. The vampire, clearly not finding whoever he was looking for, would merely throw the human aside.

Rule #18: Vampires do not care who they eat. They hunt their victims and then they suck them dry - and that's that.

A normal vampire would never even bother to look at the victim's face.

I was getting sick of seeing all of these innocent people being massacred. It was time to step in.

With Rustan and Foster on either side of me, the three of us rushed right into the middle of the hunting scene. Immediately all of the immortals' attention was fixed upon us. Any humans they were feeding on were forgotten and lost; the vampires’ and werewolves’ were fully interested in the newcomers.

A normal person would be scared shitless if they were surrounded by more than fifty bloodthirsty creatures right now. But, as I pulled out my weapons from the side of my belt, I felt a smirk slide its way across my face.

I love kicking ass.

The next thing I knew, the vampires and werewolves had launched a full-on attack at us. Of course, the boys and I were fully prepared for any of their stunts, and we easily took them down by the dozens. A kick here, a punch, a stab through the heart - yeah, it feels good to kill.

"Seventeen...Eighteen...Nineteen..." I heard Rustan mutter from my right.

Foster, who was on my other side, was counting as well: "Fifteen...Sixteen - "

I realized that they were having a competition with each other, seeing who could kill the most. But that was weird...I was only on my fifth kill. And I always win at these games!

I continued to fight, slicing and dicing wherever needed, but I began to notice that the immortals were more prone to attacking Foster or Rustan. It was as if they were...avoiding me. Like they didn't want to hurt me.

I tried to keep fighting but there was no one attacking me anymore. There was nothing to kill.

Suddenly, I just stopped. I ceased to attack and I let my weapon-filled hands drop to my side. I was completely defenseless. A perfect target. And yet no vampire or werewolf was trying to kill me.

What the hell?

This just got me really frustrated, so I gave up on waiting for the immortals to attack me. Instead, I charged right into a group of vampires and started to fight them. Unfortunately, my blood-filled feud was short lived.

The vampires started to back off. Back off! As in running away! And they certainly weren't running away from the fight, because they went right for Foster and Rustan.

I grabbed one fleeing vampires by the collar and forcefully threw him to the ground. I knelt down, jamming my knee into his chest to keep him pinned in place. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" I snarled. "Why won't you fight me?!"

The vampire was reluctant to answer at first, so I pressed my blade to his heart until he spat out some answers.

"All right!" he gasped. "We were ordered not to harm you.”

"Ordered? Why?" I demanded.

"You're the one we've been searching for," the vampire said hastily. By the shiftiness of his eyes I could tell he wasn't supposed to be blabbering out this information.

"Who sent you?" I yelled fiercely in his face.

"L-Lawrence," choked out the vampire.

“Who the hell is – ”

But the vampire, knowing that he had said enough already, grabbed my hand and pierced himself in the heart with my dagger. He moved too quickly for me to stop him, and before I could comprehend what had happened, he burst into dust under my knee.

I stood up angrily, wiping the vampire ash off of my clothes. I knew something wasn’t right here and I was frustrated that I had no answers. My blood pumping, I ran to reenter the battle. If they were indeed looking to capture me, there was no way I was going down without a fight – no, scratch that. There's no way I was going down. Period. I'd like to see these bloodthirsty bastards try to beat me in hand-to-hand combat. I now fought more fiercely than ever, sparing no mercy whatsoever.

And then, out of the blue, a voice rang out into the night. The voice was light and soft, and yet it managed to be loud enough to overcome the noise of the brawl.

"All right children, that's enough fighting for one night," said the amused, carefree voice.

Suddenly, the vampires and werewolves just stopped fighting us and backed off. They were listening to whoever the guy was that just spoke.

So this must be Lawrence.

Rule #19: Vampires are independent creatures and fend for themselves. Werewolves travel in packs, but they only listen to the alpha male.

In other words, vampires don't follow anyone's orders. And whoever this guy was, he certainly wasn't a werewolf if he could boss around a few vampires; vampires and werewolves hate each other, so there was no way in hell vampires would ever listen to a werewolf. And, if this guy wasn't a werewolf, then he certainly couldn't be the alpha male that bossed around the werewolves.

So who was this apparent leader? What the hell was he, and how was he in charge of a gang of immortals?

After making sure the vampires and werewolves weren't going to attack again, I slowly turned around to see who the voice belonged to. I was sure to move cautiously and avoid eye contact in case any immortals tried to use mind control on me.

I looked at the end of the alleyway and, standing on a tall stack of crates, stood a man. Whether he was a vampire or a werewolf, I couldn't tell. He was impressively tall and elegantly dressed, as if he was from a high-class European family. His facial features were sharp but uniquely good-looking, and his dark stormy-gray hair was in the form of longish curls as it rustled in the night breeze.

But there was one other thing I noticed.

He had silver eyes.