The solid sound of the heavy door closing thrilled her again.  She loved the feeling of control and power closing the library and locking it gave her.  For a few moments she was in control of the knowledge and power that knowledge could impart.  The huge brass clad doors had a patina of age that went well with the dignity of the building.  The twenty three marble steps that led up to the doors emphasized the majesty of the entrance.  Dr. Rolf had left about a half an hour ago and told her she could leave early.  It was only one am and she was anticipating a walk under the full moon.

The wind whipped around her body and wind driven beads of ice stung her cheek.  She briefly remembered the strange night a couple of months ago and shivered from the cold and the memory.  Pulling her cape about her, she settled the had firmly on her head.  Chasing a wind driven hat through deserted streets was not her idea of fun.  She turned and face the wind.  Holding her hat onto her head with her left hand, she lifted her face into the wind and enjoyed the icy caress of the freezing air on her cheeks.  She took a deep breath and held it, turning her face up to the full moon and closing her eyes, she could almost feel cool light of the moon permeating her body.  She felt gossamer, light, and free.  She could imagine herself as spire of ice embedded in a glacier.  She began the descent of the twenty three steps, gliding, gently gliding, almost part of and one with the night.

She was not aware of the eyes watching her and she was not aware of the expression on his face or how he huddled into the darkness and made a cross on his forehead or how he turned up the bottle of wine and drank deeply and pulled the cardboard boxes and newspapers around him and prayed, prayed for salvation, but mostly prayed to be invisible.  The alcoholic fog claimed him, and true to his prayers, he was unseen and unnoticed.

It had been snowing and sleeting for the past thirty six hours and Eliza had dressed for the weather.  She was wearing a leather vest over a white silk blouse, leather skirt and knee high boots.  She'd developed quite a cape collection and tonight's choice was a heavy charcoal colored woolen cape, tightly woven to be very warm and water proof.  She appreciate protection from the dampness but she hardly needed the warmth.  She seemed to be attuned to the cold and the dark.  In fact she loved it.

She and John, Dr. Rolf, were having a very proper work relationship since their 'date' but there was a delicious undercurrent of tension and awareness that was absolutely thrilling.  They had become delightfully aware of each other, and while work was not suffering, there was a new personal element that made it fun to go to work each day in a way that Eliza was not used to.  She was having a good time and feeling very much the desirable and desired woman.  There was a warmth there that was in opposition to her love of the cold, but she wasn't concerned about that now.  She lifted her arms and opened the cape, allowing the cold air and biting sleet to beat against her face and leather clad torso.  She grinned, shivered and pulled the cape tightly around her.  This was fun.

Her path had taken her towards the park and she unhesitatingly went into the dimness caused by the growth of trees.  A chill went up her spine, a chill that was unrelated to the icy cold weather, and for a moment, she remembered the two that had been following her last week.  That  had scared her then; now the thought of them pissed her off.  What right did anyone have to trail and terrorize someone else.  Eliza was no champion of any cause but she'd always stood her ground when she thought she was right.  Somehow, in the dark, cold, sleet filled night, she felt that she was in her element and she was not about to be intimidated by anyone or anything!

"Are you ready for this?  I don't think she's too powerful but are you ready," the older and taller man asked.

"Dammit, yes, I'm ready," the younger man answered.  Although he said he was ready there was a slight tremor to his voice that indicated he might not be as ready as he was claiming to be; or maybe it was the cold.  Maybe his voice was shaking because of the cold.

"The cold," the older man thought.  "It's just the cold.  He's ready."

"Is this stuff really necessary?  I still think a .45 caliber slug in her head would do the job."

"Look, you want to live through this, you'd better not be goofing around.  She's probably young and might not be aware of what's going on but she can snap you like a twig and don't you forget it," emphasized the older man.  "You promise me that you do this by the book or we're out of here!"

"Ok, ok!  I hear you.  She sure is a sweet looking little thing though."

"You stop talking that way," the older man said in a low dangerous voice.  "We're not here for you to get your rocks off!  We're here to kill something evil that will kill us if it gets a chance."  He stared at the younger man intently.  "You'd better take this very seriously or you won't live to see tomorrow!  She'll have your young ass for lunch!"

"Ok, ok, I hear you!"  The older man shook his head and slowly entered the park.  The younger man followed, clutching a long sharpened stake.  They moved as silently as possible and hoped the wind would mask the sounds of there presence.

Eliza turned in the direction she'd come from.  She could clearly hear the scuffle of foot steps and she could clearly hear the whispered argument.  The comment about the .45 got her attention.  She wondered why they were calling her young.  They must have her mixed up with someone else.

"Sweet looking little thing!"  She bristled at a that disparaging comment.  She'd show that arrogant bastard what sweet was.  Whether they had her mixed up with someone else or not, they clearly were intending to kill her and they'd been tracking her for some time.  No, they were after her.  She'd have to handle this herself.  Even though it was sleeting and clouds covered the full moon, it was almost like day to her excellent night vision.  She was not wearing her glasses and she could clearly see.  Stepping off of the path, into the dense growth, she watched her stalkers carefully approach.

"Man, it is dark!  How the hell are we going to see her unless we fall over her," the young man complained.

"Oh, shut up and keep your eyes and ears open, you damn fool.  I don't want to be bat food because of your stupidity," the older man shot back.

As they neared her, the wind blew the clouds from in front of the moon, and suddenly, it was bright as day.  The both saw her at about the same time she realized they could see her.  The young man froze but the older one raised a weapon and a strange 'sprong' sound could be heard.  Eliza flipped the cape and turned but she felt a piercing pain in her right breast.  She gave a low squeak of pain and sprang back into the deep undergrowth as the clouds covered the moon, and once again, it was pitch dark.  She looked a the source of her agony and saw a stick protruding from her chest.  She instinctively reached up with her left hand and pulled it out.  It hurt.  I really hurt.  The tip was barbed and it drug bloody flesh from her soft body.  Tears welled up in her eyes and she felt a blazing anger course through her.  She broke it in half and tossed it to the ground.  She paid no attention to the fact she was bleeding.

The two men separated, choosing a course that would bracket her position.  They moved smoothly and easily now, clearly a trained hunting team.  She looked around and her way was blocked by brush growth.  Any way she went, she'd be making more noise than was wise.  She was standing next to a tall straight oak tree.  She looked up and realized that it must be over thirty feet high.  Without thinking, she crouched and leapt, her outstretched hands grasping the limb she hoped to reach.  She easily swung herself up onto the limb and crouched silently, waiting.  She looked down and saw the pattern the men were working.  They crossed almost directly beneath her but neither man thought to look twenty feet over his head.  They silently separated and Eliza tensely waited.

As they separated she stood and leapt.  The cape billowed and she grasped it, and briefly, it could have been thought she was flying.  She hit the younger man from behind and he went sprawling forward, the wind knocked completely out of him.  This was the same man that wanted to put a .45 into her head.  This was the man who thought she was 'a cute little thing.'  When she was hiding in the store room, she'd wished she had a weapon.  Tonight she did have a weapon.  She drew the 18 inch knife from the sheath on her boot.  She started to plunge the knife into his heart when he groaned and lurched.  She smashed his temple with the butt if the knife.  Blood spurted from the gash on his head and washed over her hand.  Reflexively she jerked her hand back and licked it.  She licked and hesitated.  Carefully she put the knife back into the boot sheath and leaned forward to his neck.

Sharp teeth tore his flesh and blood flowed.  Clasping her mouth to the open wound, she suckled like a babe at the breast.  She drew in the sweet, sweet liquid and felt it burn it's way to her stomach.  Like wine, it rushed to her head and she felt a heady dizziness.  Drinking deeply she could almost imagine a lover's embrace.  Close her eyes, she could almost feel strong hand caressing her body.  She pressed her body tight to his and drank deeply, her excitement rising and wanting more and more.  More of what she wasn't sure but she knew there had to be more and then she rolled a cross bow bolt pierced the young man's stomach.

Crouching she snarled at him.  Elongated canines smeared with blood glistened in the moonlight.  He dropped the empty cross bow and pulled a sharpened stake from a holder on his back.  He threw it like a spear, but she easily dodged the clumsy attempt to murder her.  She started to leap and take him but saw the second stake in his hands.  She clearly remembered how bad he'd hurt her earlier and didn't want that to happen again.  He was slowly advancing towards her.  She stood her ground and he grinned an evil grin.  "Confident bitch, ain't you?"

He lunged and she side stepped, drawing her knife.  Her slash ripped a two foot wound in his left arm.  He cursed as his arm went limp but managed to hold onto the stake with is right hand.  He backed up until he has his back to a tree.  Holding the stake like a weapon, he was not easy to approach.  Eliza stared at him.  The long knife in her hand, her bloody countenance, the glistening fangs and her leather garb with cape made her a fearsome apparition.  He was whimpering with fear but never lowered his only protection.

Eliza approached him, just keeping out of range of his sharpened stake. She pointed her knife between his eyes.  "You track me.  You hunt me.  You invade my life and try to kill me, she said in a hoarse whisper.  "I'm going to eat you," she screamed.  "You," she hissed and pointing the knife at the prone figure, "and you little dog too!"  She turned and seemed to melt into the night.

The man stood stunned and then staggered to where his fallen companion lay.  He saw the cross bow bolt in his stomach.  "Oh damn!" His friend groaned.  "You lie there, Jake.  Don't move.  I'll get help."  Jake groaned and turned his head to one side the moon shone again and the wounds on his neck became visible.  "Oh no!"  The older man gasped.  "OH NO!" he screamed.  "I'm sorry, Jake.  You know what has to be."  Jake's eyes opened and through his suffering comprehension began to dawn.

"Oh god no," he whispered.  "You can't do that."  The older man knelt beside him and placed the sharpened stake at his heart.  Jake weakly tried to struggle but the loss of blood and the pain of a gut wound prevented anything but the weakest of attempts.  With closed eyes, the man struck the end of the stake with a wooden mallet.  Jake screamed the scream of a man with his heart being pierced.  A long, high pitched, howl that would raise hairs on the back of the neck and make dogs howl.  A second blow and he screamed louder.  A third blow and the only sound Jake was making was a low bubbling gurgle as blood gushed from his mouth.  The older man collapsed, sobbing.  He rose to his knees and cursed, shaking his fist and swearing vengeance.

From high above, cold eyes memorized his features.  "You and your little dog too."

She watched as the man threw the mallet far into the woods.  In despair he gather the rest of the equipment they had brought with them and turned to go back along the way they had come in. He kept looking right and left as he walked, jumping at every sound.  “You have made an implacable enemy now you hell’s spawn, you” he cried out.

Still in the tree, she followed his progress as he went along the path.  Without her realizing it, she followed his progress almost out of the park.  Lightly leaping from the tree, she lands gently on the ground.  She feels exhilarated from the fight and the bloody aftermath. Straightening her clothing, she turns to make her own way home.  As she walks, the fangs recede and become normal again.  Her eyes, instead of the golden reddish they were, become the normal hazel, but with a slight difference.
 
 

Slowly the light changed from the dark of night to the pearly glow of a winter’s dawn.  She wondered to herself
where the night had gone.  Suddenly, the sun started climbing in the sky and a lone glow hit her.  Closing her eyes in pain, she hurried along until she reached her own apartment.  She went in and closed the door behind her.  Leaning back against the door, she placed her hands at her temples and rubbed lightly.  The sun had never affected her that way before.  “It must be the working nights, I’m not used to the harsh sunlight anymore,” she thought.

Moving to the table in the hallway, she looked into the mirror, and again noticed how blurry her features were.  Although she did see smudges of red by her mouth and her clothes were disheveled. “ What in the world is all over my vest?” she thought.  Looking down, she saw that it looked like blood.  Rubbing her hand across her lips, it came away with dried blood flaking her fingers.  Shaking her head, she thought “I must have cut my lip somehow.  But that doesn’t account for the amount of blood on me.”  Moving toward the bathroom, she began removing her clothing as she walked.  The seemed a large amount of blood around the area of her right breast.  Removing her blouse, she saw it was on her bra also.  Looking at her bare flesh, there seemed to be a slight cut, nothing that would account for the amount of blood though.  Even as she watched, the cut scabbed and closed over.  Slowly disappearing as if it had never been.  Frightened now, she ran her finger over the spot.  “I know it was there, I know it was,” she cried.

Suddenly overwhelmingly tired, she climbed into her bed and slept as if dead.