king or a government head. There were ancient rules in place that most of the rest of the vampire community adhered to, and for those who did not abide by those unwritten rules, there were ancient and unsanctioned enforcers. At one time, Taris was that unsanctioned enforcer. Now, he was more like the sage in the forest that all of the villagers went to for their spiritual liftoff.
But the temperament of his youth was far different from the temperament of his slowly earned wisdom, and he spent decades shirking the reverence the people of his race gave him. It was in his blood to fight, to be a warrior, a soldier as his father was before him, so he fought against those who would seek to destroy their kind, both vampire and human alike. Centuries of battle had molded and scarred his body. They turned him into a lethal killing machine, one that operated with grace and skill, one that his opponents never saw coming.
It wasn’t until the realization that the vampire race was teetering on the verge of extinction that he began to reassess his responsibilities, and even then, it took a hefty shove from his fellow friends and warriors to make him actually take them on. He was their one shot, their hope. It was that proverbial bitch slap that made him finally face the bitter truth: without his leadership, the race would collapse into nothingness. And so, with the lead-heavy heart and a mouth full of curses, he put away the blades and began devoting every waking moment to fighting a different kind of battle, one that slowly consumed him more than any bloodied hand-to-hand combat ever had before.
The centuries he had spent working on the cure to their looming extinction problem had turned him into something more than just a skilled fighter and a menacing force to be feared. The two hundred years had turned him into the scholar his mother always wanted him to be and the deliverer his people always prayed he would become. Now, instead of literally grappling with a physical force that carried death, he fought an unseen evolutionary killer, one that left fewer than five hundred vampires—that he knew of—left on earth with no perceived hope of replenishing their numbers.
Sitting there on the rooftop across from Dr. Bridgeman’s apartment building, he felt like his old self again. No, he felt better. Combined with the warrior was a wiser being, someone who now knew more about the world and the things in it. From his perch high above the street, he felt brand new.
He had been watching the window to her apartment for an hour now. Finding her wasn’t terribly difficult. Since the interview the night before, he’d scoured the NC Medical Board website and put two and two together. Add to it his borderline scary ability to hack into just about anything, and he had her address and phone number in no time.
The wind was beginning to whirl around as he stood up on the ledge of the rooftop. His trench licked the air behind him, stretching out like thick leather wings as he braced himself against the night. Toe to heel, he stepped back from the concrete edge, feeling the pebbles rolling under his rubber soles until he was on the opposite side of the roof.
“Here goes nothing.”
Pursing his lips, he let out a long breath and started toward the place where he had been sitting at a dead run. Once he hit the ledge, he launched himself with all of his might, sending his body hurtling through the air. He felt the wind hit his face and whistle through his earrings as the good doctor’s apartment building drew closer and closer, until the gravel of the rooftop was finally firmly underneath his thick, steel-toed combat boots. He hit the ground with a firm
thud
, landing a solid three feet from the edge. He stood and looked over at the other building. He smiled and fought the urge to laugh. The distance between the two buildings was at least fifty feet. How long had it been since he had used his power like that? A hundred years, maybe?
“Not bad,
But the temperament of his youth was far different from the temperament of his slowly earned wisdom, and he spent decades shirking the reverence the people of his race gave him. It was in his blood to fight, to be a warrior, a soldier as his father was before him, so he fought against those who would seek to destroy their kind, both vampire and human alike. Centuries of battle had molded and scarred his body. They turned him into a lethal killing machine, one that operated with grace and skill, one that his opponents never saw coming.
It wasn’t until the realization that the vampire race was teetering on the verge of extinction that he began to reassess his responsibilities, and even then, it took a hefty shove from his fellow friends and warriors to make him actually take them on. He was their one shot, their hope. It was that proverbial bitch slap that made him finally face the bitter truth: without his leadership, the race would collapse into nothingness. And so, with the lead-heavy heart and a mouth full of curses, he put away the blades and began devoting every waking moment to fighting a different kind of battle, one that slowly consumed him more than any bloodied hand-to-hand combat ever had before.
The centuries he had spent working on the cure to their looming extinction problem had turned him into something more than just a skilled fighter and a menacing force to be feared. The two hundred years had turned him into the scholar his mother always wanted him to be and the deliverer his people always prayed he would become. Now, instead of literally grappling with a physical force that carried death, he fought an unseen evolutionary killer, one that left fewer than five hundred vampires—that he knew of—left on earth with no perceived hope of replenishing their numbers.
Sitting there on the rooftop across from Dr. Bridgeman’s apartment building, he felt like his old self again. No, he felt better. Combined with the warrior was a wiser being, someone who now knew more about the world and the things in it. From his perch high above the street, he felt brand new.
He had been watching the window to her apartment for an hour now. Finding her wasn’t terribly difficult. Since the interview the night before, he’d scoured the NC Medical Board website and put two and two together. Add to it his borderline scary ability to hack into just about anything, and he had her address and phone number in no time.
The wind was beginning to whirl around as he stood up on the ledge of the rooftop. His trench licked the air behind him, stretching out like thick leather wings as he braced himself against the night. Toe to heel, he stepped back from the concrete edge, feeling the pebbles rolling under his rubber soles until he was on the opposite side of the roof.
“Here goes nothing.”
Pursing his lips, he let out a long breath and started toward the place where he had been sitting at a dead run. Once he hit the ledge, he launched himself with all of his might, sending his body hurtling through the air. He felt the wind hit his face and whistle through his earrings as the good doctor’s apartment building drew closer and closer, until the gravel of the rooftop was finally firmly underneath his thick, steel-toed combat boots. He hit the ground with a firm
thud
, landing a solid three feet from the edge. He stood and looked over at the other building. He smiled and fought the urge to laugh. The distance between the two buildings was at least fifty feet. How long had it been since he had used his power like that? A hundred years, maybe?
“Not bad,
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