Adieu

    Her head lay against a feather pillow. Her lids hid those eyes, those liquid blue eyes she used to lure in her prey. Her chest moved slightly with her steady breathing. She smiled as if she were having a pleasant dream. It seemed as though she was asleep.
    She was not.
    Maybe she was lost in thought. Maybe she was bored. How could I have known? All I knew was that she wasn't capable of sleep. Vampires don't sleep. We're not supposed to...
    I wondered. "What are you thinking about?" I lifted a hand to caress the her pale cheek. Her skin was perfect, soft. My eyes traced her shape: curvy, but thin. A black dress was draped over her body, ebony against ivory. It was pretty, I supposed, but she looked better without it. The corners of my lips lifted with that thought.
    She opened one eye, gifted me with a breathtaking smile. "Mortality." Her eyes closed once again. She put a finger to my lips. "Shush."
    I grinned, waiting.
    We waited like this for an hour. Then she rose.
    "Ah. I wonder what being human is like." She giggled.
    "I don't. What's so great about mortality, anyway? Mortals are so weak, so vulnerable... boring." My tone was teasing. I hoped.
    "Mmm. But I might want oblivion. What's wrong with stupidity?" Her eyes burned into mine. If my heart had a beat, it would have been unsteady.
    "I suppose you're right. Not understanding things could be so much easier..." I looked up to the ceiling, ten feet above my head. I marveled at the paintings, the intricate designs. The detail never ceased to amaze me. I brought my gaze back to Anabelle's face. Anabelle's face...
    Her eyes held mine. Her smile returned. "Nathanael. I am thirsty."
    I bowed, lifted my arm. "Shall we?"
    Her eyes flashed red with desire, her gaze became delightfully wicked for a moment so brief no human could have seen it. She took hold of my arm.
    We exited the house in that fashion. I felt two of my teeth transform slowly into fangs. My throat burned. I yearned for the kill.
   
    Within the next thirty minutes, Anabelle and I were becoming acquianted with a handul of men and women, mortal. They believed Anabelle to be my sister, nothing more. I had a simple plan.
    I sat in between two women whose names I can not recall, they were of no real importance to me.
    Anabelle had bewitched a large male.                                             
    I studied her carefully. Watched as he willingly fell into this trap she'd set up. Her voice alone could have seduced this man, could have persuaded him to drop to his knees and moan, begging her to take him, to drink from him. 
    She pressed her body against his, wrapped her arms confidently around his strong neck. Her lips were at the man's ear; she was whispering something. Of course, I could have heard, if I'd been paying attention.
    It was the look in her eyes that I was paying attention to. Her eyes were filled with emotion. Filled with lust, regret, and even more, sympathy.
    But then her face buried into his neck. A pained, wild noise escaped his lips. I gave up trying to understand her feeling and followed her example; I drank from the women at my side.                                                                     
   
    Anabelle and I left the saloon satisfied. I'd thought. The corpses lay still in the booth we had shared, completely drained of their blood. It had been a good night. But Anabelle seemed distracted, disoriented; this was out of the ordinary for her. I asked her what was wrong, teased about the quality of the blood she'd drunk.
    Her eyes held an undeniable sadness. "Nathanael, I don't want to be a killer."
    I felt my eyes widen. I had not expected this. "Well..."
    Her head nestled against my shoulder. "What if," She looked at our feet. "I could be human again. Oh, Nathanael, I don't want to be a murderer! We kill every night, without thinking, but what if we didn't have to? What if we could be like them?" Her head lifted. Her eyes looked at me with hope, the kind of hope that usually only a child had...