Journal of the Eldest

Old Faces

"How old are y…"

"Old enough," I cut him short. "You look too drunk to be driving. I can give you a lift."

"You know how to drive this thing." He cannot help belching in my face. His breath stinks of brew and roasted sausage. "Excuse me."

Enough of this. My thirst suddenly took a hold of me. I feel my eyes changing in color as I look at him. "Well Mr. Porter, I can say your days of drinking and lonely nights are over."

His bloodshot eyes widen in fear as he takes me in. I take control of his body so that he cannot move an inch. I let him keep his mod enjoying the fear that is radiating out of him. He finally realizes that I am not what I appear to be. I grab him and lift him off his seat with one hand. His mind is racing and slowly sobering up.

"I am sure you thought I was going to be an easy one," I whisper in his ear.

I still have control of his body which confuses him. His mind cannot understand it. He is afraid of me.

"You should be," I whisper. My voice is a deathly whisper that would frighten anyone. I bring my mouth towards his neck until my cold lips touch his skin. I let my tongue snake out as my teeth start to elongate in my mouth. I inhale the smell of his strong blood. It is intoxicating to my soul. I should never have let myself stop feeding, I think. Even if I had not slept for so long in my hidden tomb, I would have been doing this particular thing to draw out the council, my old companions.

My lips slowly part as the smell of his blood forces me to forget my control. My iron grip bends his head making the vein more visible. I let the tips of my canines play along the thick vein. I hear the watcher make his move just as my teeth break the man's skin.

"I would not do that girl." His voice is hard and deliberate.

Finally. "And why not?" I ask.

"Because we have been watching you," he answers. "My masters are bothered by the trail that you are leaving behind you."

"Which masters are these?" I ask.

"You're stupid youngling," he says. "My masters seat in the Roman catacombs watching every single thing that happens in the supernatural world and the natural world."

"Then why are they sending their dog to do their job?"

"They are the eldest of our kind and you are among the youngest by the looks of it."

I keep my eye on the trucker using his mind and turn to face the man I felt watching me for the past two days. His long hair wound all the way down to his shoulders. His skin was paler than most vampires I had seen which only meant that he was old. A century or less, I think.

"You have been watching me for the past few days." I walk towards him. His tall frame makes me look like a midget. I discreetly look through him refusing to let go of my prey. The truck had fallen asleep behind his well. That is good for me in case I confront this vampire. "Why?"

"I already told you," he says, "you are leaving a horrible mess and my masters want you dealt with."

"How?" I am a little confused by his revelation. It is my intention to bring the so called council to Silent Creek so that I can warn them off of the boy. "I am not a threat."

"You are a threat to everything that is good about immortality. You are sloppy and my masters don't like sloppy younglings."

"I am sorry but I can't help it."

"Who made you?"

That is a question I have not heard in over millennia on this God-forsaken earth. I hate these young ones that believe that vampires are young. I know that I look like a sixteen year old girl but it gives none of them the right to believe they are older than me. I am the oldest after all.