The Lion

I really didn't notice him, until I heard him.

His heart was like it was made to entice me. It had a sound stronger than anything--not louder, just stronger. It pulsed, almost speaking, 'I am here, listen to me!!' I turned to see what it was being had walked into the room that could so thoroughly capture my attention.

I caught his eyes, and held him there. I probed his mind, searching for the reason his heart was so strong. It was the usual boy stuff--girls, cars, food; not necessarily in that order. There was nothing special about him, but I had to dig deeper, just in case. Some sentient--or not so sentient--beings had learned to hide their darkest secrets. He might be one of these.

But there was still nothing--no missed memories that should be hidden if he was another vampire or a werewolf. Just normal human boy mind. Why was he like this? I shifted my mind to release him, and then my eyes really saw him.

His mind was clean, beautiful--strong, like his heart. I could feel his soul creeping closer, and like there was a shrinking cord between us, I was pulled towards him. Every muscle in my body ached to hold him close, to not let him go to class, to keep him there with me forever. The other's couldn't have him--he was MINE. A snarl built behind my lips, and then I realized what was going on.

I had to release him, his mind was to close, he would soon feel my thoughts, my secrets. I snapped the connection painfully, and zapped myself back into the human world. He would be back.





I discovered some very useful things that day. For example, in my 60 years of life, I had no idea that this phenomena of a 'strong' heart was so common. When I followed him home, his whole family was like that, with the exception of his mother. Passed through the male line, I guess.

The second thing I discovered is that looking in a psychic's mind gives them an unstoppable connection to you. Apparently, waaaaay back in this kids family is a witch. Which is a very bad sign, because that means he would always know where I am, always know if I am near.

So, I go home after spending an hour on his roof, listening to his family, and a beautifully normal human life. Such innocence. His dad would have a heart attack if he found out about his family history. Telling them was out. The mom would be killed in a heartbeat if anybody probed her mind. She wasn't one of us.

See, if you know about what you are, and you are in 'love' or have family that's human, they are pretty much condemned to die, no questions asked. If they don't know, they could maybe get away with a few years, but your subconcious picks up a lot more than your active mind does. They get old and senile, they might start saying things about what they remember. When you get a few years on you, your subconcious gets more contact with your thoughts.

The strange thing about these two different discoveries is the fact that strong hearts are apparently passed through your dad, and the witch line SHOULD be passed through the mom. Their mom isn't a lost witch, or anything else, just human. The dad is a psychic, and so are his children. So, what's up here?

I run home in a few seconds. I stop at the gate, and check my mail. Nothing. Usually there's a few offers for health care, or a retirement home. I need a new social security number.

I walk up the path and through the door, and my 'foster brother,' Jimmy, tackles me, his momentum carring us outside and almost to the fence. Jimmy's a little rambunctious tonight. Sitting on top of me, he says sarcastically, "Hey, sis. What's this I hear about a new h-toy? You find someone that actually smells good in that 'shifter-ridden school?" He shoots to his feet and grins. He moves to tackle me again, and I step aside. He hits the ground in a crouch. I shoot him a devilish grin, and we walk back inside.

We live in a safe house. It's run by a few local witches who enjoy our company. They keep ups well supplied with blood and new ID's. Jimmy and I have lived here for about a year. I met him here. I have no idea how he can stand to stay in such a quiet place: he's only a few years old, and wants to see everything.

Back in the early 1900's, somebody decided that maybe it wouldn't be so bad to live civilized with the humans, and have a little fun with 'em. So, all around the country, houses start popping up, some designed as homeless shelters for the more mobile beings, some designed as foster homes. Some of were for shape-shifters, some for vamps, some for witches. The witch houses were more of hiding from the authorities than anything.

A human might wander in every now and then, but they would be politely told to get the hell out. Sometimes the house leader couldn't get there in time and a hungry kid would take advantage of his stupidity. Luckily, you can't just wander into a 'foster' house, so the few casualties were homeless folks. Still, they were just humans.

You have to understand immortal thinking. You will live for few decades, maybe a century if you're lucky, and then you die. We will live long enough that in the past, natives called us gods. We are the same, year in and year out, and the only thing that keeps us alive is you. So, cutting an already ridiculously short life span by a few years isn't a big deal to us.

Our house is kind of a halfway house for vampire teens. We can stay for a few days, or for a few years, so long as we don't get noticed. Nobody cares what you do. You are going to live forever, and immortal enemies make for messy battles.

The house leader is a witch named Selena Oiche. She has been very busy with the new students for the year, so Jimmy and I have spent a lot more time outside. These kids can't seem to get it through their heads that the humans at the school aren't all for eating.

The advantage for me is that I am waaaay older than her, so she can't boss me around. The two of us kind of co-run the house, since I'm the oldest 'kid' here. I would like to stay, but I can't pay enough for the aging spell. Especially for one that would stick around long enough that I could age for a long time. I have been planning to leave next year, since I'm a senior again. Jimmy might come with me.

Jimmy and I stick together, now. We met, and so we can't stand leaving each other. We are more like siblings than anything else. He has my back and I have his. I can't hardly remember not being with him, out waiting for the scent of a reasonable meal.

The worst part about the school is that the area has been claimed by 'shifters for about 30 years. They are everywhere. They stink like none other, and the few humans that live here are close with the 'shifters. We are the runaways that live all together in an orphanage, that have fleas and the measles and every STD known to man. Yeah, we have a hard time getting food.

Think about it in terms of a food chain. Humans are on top of the animals and plants, and all that junk. The vampires and shape-shifters are all on top of humans, and waaaaaaaay back, there are elementals. These are the top of the food chain. They could have hundreds of humans for an appetizer, a vampire or 'shifter or seven for the main course and drink the Mediterranean for a nightcap.

Anyway. Shapeshifters have to eat. They can't get away with just drinking some of the blood, and leaving their victim alive. They have to eat the hearts and livers. Yuck. They're like minor vamps-anyone catch the connection between the amount of blood contained by internal organs, and the needs of a 'shifter? Yeah.

Before any of you start wondering, there are no werewolves. To my knowledge. In my world, they are glorified 'shifters. They do have a little bit less control, but most of us think that's to keep up rumors. They also make a point to shift during the full moon. But no one really knows except the shifters themselves.

Inside, it's a disaster. Not anything new, except for the broken refrigerator. Someone will be paying for that. We stroll back to the living room-also trashed. The fight had the bad sense to nail the fridge head on, and missed the entertainment center by at least 5 feet. These kids-all about the food, no sense of hunger. Maybe they'll think about that next time before they start a fight.

We get ready for the fight to hit us, as we walk to the bedrooms. What does hit us is the smell of blood. Witch blood. Our eyes meet for a millisecond, and we race toward the source. I exhale shakily. "Selena."

Her eyes crack open, a glimmer of recognition. "Dana? What are you doing here? Didn't you hear about..." Her voice trails off as she tries to sit up. "The kids, I have to take care of the kids." Jimmy almost sits on her. I shoot a worried glance at him. The last thing I need is for Jimmy to get hungry. He bares his teeth in a grimace. Translation: I'm okay, but she needs to stop moving!

"Selena, nobody's here. Jimmy and I are here to take care of you." My mind races, looking for options, retracting the smells of the fight through the house. There are actually several kids here. They're burning out back. Jimmy is on the same train of thought as I am, and he shakes his head. So much life there. Good kids, really, no matter what I said before.

"They all got away? You're sure nobody's hurt or, or..." She trails off quickly and lays her head on JImmy's shoulder. "They're dead aren't they?" I nod. A heavy breath escapes her lungs as her eyes water up. "They were such good kids."

"Selena, we need to get out of here. Do you think you'll make it to the cave?" Her eyes go blank as she assesses the damage done to her. It can't be good.

"If you hurry."

We run.





The cave is a hideout all our own. Nobody but me and Jimmy. We keep most of our personal stuff here--passports, wallets, driver's licenses. We also keep a get-away pack. This consists of 4 or 5 changes of clothes each, $500 cash, and a couple of prepaid debit cards with about $1,000 each.

There isn't much for modern conveniences, but there's running water, and pretty isolated. We never thought we'd need a first aid kit.

When we set Selena down she begins mumbling under her breath. Jimmy and I can hear what she says, but have no idea what it means. "Why them? Children, babies...leave them, take these here...perfectly good specimens...it can't be them...She takes a deep breath and continues her conversation.

Jimmy gives me a worried glance. She's delusional. If we are to save her, we have to hurry.

He begins tearing his shirt to close the cuts, and I begin to actually look at her wounds. They are numerous, and deep. She has lost a lot of blood. Most are on her arms and legs. Her head, face, and neck are untouched. Quite unusual. Or indicative. Maybe a new vamp with a slight consience wanting to avoid remembering who she was.