The Power by Cynthia Roberts Page B

rooftop. Without hesitation, she ran with sufficient speed until she reached the ledge of the roof and without pause, she seemed to fly from one rooftop to the next. Landing on quiet feet, she turned and crouched down low on the ledge facing the darkened alley below. Curiously, she peered down at the dark blonde head of the man beneath her. The body of her prey had been removed, but its scent, the scent of death still lingered on. She had put a stop to the man’s evil this night, she thought suddenly. She had kept him from hurting a child and perhaps from hurting many others as well. Yet, the cop down there now thought of her as a murderer. Though, he didn’t think that the murderer was a woman at all. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, none of them anywhere near the truth of what had really occurred there tonight. He was thinking along the lines of a cult. That would explain the strange happenings of this evening, he thought and of… There had been another victim, multiple homicide, she read of his mind. Her pale, slender hands came down on the ledge as she leaned in at an impossible angle to get a closer look at him. She drew in an unneeded breath, taking in the man’s scent and trying to recall where she had known him before, but it still did not come to her easily.
    The other victim had not been one of hers, which meant that there was another vampire in the vicinity. She immediately thought of Gina, though she didn’t know why. She had not seen her dark mother in nearly fifty years. No, it had to have been another, she thought and she wondered if perhaps she should be alarmed. Vampires did not cross each other’s paths often. They were content to exist and let exist as long as one’s territory was not invaded. This was her stomping grounds, but she wasn’t territorial as long as what the other did would not interfere with what she must do. 
    She watched as the man below crouched down low and gently ran his fingers across the pavement at his feet. What was he looking for, s he wondered, but then she knew: blood. He was looking for blood. He could not comprehend how there was no blood to be found at the scene. It was quite simple really; she was not a clumsy killer, nor was she wasteful.
    The man stood. He was tall, she noticed and broad of shoulders. His dark blonde hair was worn a bit long at the collar, but she knew this was because he had been too busy to get it cut. His head was angled slightly to the side now. His stern chin was held between his thick fingers as he contemplated the events of the evening. He was seeing a big man in his mind, a strong man wi th a knife, no an ice-pick…No. There would have been blood splattered everywhere. He groaned out loud and the sound of his deep voice caused something to move deep inside of her. Intrigued, she leaned in closer. 
    “Insane. She’s insane.” he mumbled and something inside of her seemed to jump. She knew that voice, but where? Who? Something nagged at her that it was important for her to remember. “ But Dr. Harold’s not the one standing out here talking to herself, now is she?” he said in deep frustration, and then he growled low in his throat and began to pace.
    She sat there, perfec tly still, perfectly silent as she watched him intently. His gate, his mannerisms, what was it about him that so intrigued her? She could not tear her gaze away from him. Suddenly he stopped and he looked straight up, right at her. She didn’t move. She knew that the night was too black, that he could not possibly see her there. Then why hadn’t he looked away? Those eyes…
    “Who’s there?” he called out, and she backed away on silent feet. A few minutes later, she heard him mumbling to himself once more. “No one’s there, you idiot. You’re letting yourself get spooked. There is no such damned things as vampires!” he growled angrily , and then he was leaving, walking out of the alley. She stood, following by rooftop as he climbed into his car and