Paulina

I was born a thousand years ago. Where, I cannot tell you. Too many things are after me to reveal where I once held roots. My relatives might still be there, carrying on with their lives, no knowledge of me. But I, I know of them. I know all their faces, their names, their hopes and desires. I’m their shadow, the person they hear when they think no one’s there but hear a breath, a footstep, a voice.
The name I was christened with was Paulina; but when I reached puberty that all changed. I changed along with it. I noticed an increasing sensitivity to sunlight; granted, I did not burn that bad if I stayed in it for less than five minutes, but after that I got red. From the very beginning of my existence I could never tan. My childhood days were spent under many a bonnet, shielding my precious eyes, even then warning me to be careful. I gave my parents quite a scare when I by chance looked directly in the sun and could not see for a week after. When I was thirteen, that awkward age where I was not a child but not yet a woman, a thirst grew inside of me. For blood. I sustained myself on my own blood, trying to dull the pain that was slowly driving me crazy.
My father married me off to an older man–Colonel Edward, I recall. He was a nice gentleman, but I just wanted to be on my own; after all, how could I pretend to be normal with the thirst building inside of me? By then I was making small cuts on our livestock–much as a vampire bat does today–and drinking their blood. We didn’t have the technology back then, didn’t know of the harmful diseases they can carry in their blood. One night, Edward saw me feeding on an animal and thought I was the devil. He had good reason to, of course. I had been suspecting that myself. It was a sin to kill another, and my thirst was growing so strong that I felt that I would kill if I didn’t feed soon on something other than myself or an animal. He had a dagger he kept with him at all times, “in case he met a wild dog or a villain.” He would have killed me if Erik hadn’t saved me. He had been following me ever since I was born. Incognito, of course. He killed Edward with as little effort as it would take me to blink and told me to go with him if I wanted to survive. I did, not knowing a witch hunt would follow in my wake.
It’s raining cats and dogs, a saying many Americans seem to like, although I can’t see what’s so fascinating about it. It sounds so gruesome, so barbaric, but it’s their culture, their world. At least as they know it. I walk purposely through the throng of people crowding the wet sidewalk, not caring when I step in puddles. I’m not dressing to impress anyone.
My black trench coat is clinched around my waist, my black jeans wet from the puddles that are magnetized to my feet, which are covered by a pair of black sneakers. My skin is alabaster and my eyes are a blue so pale they look like ice. My hair is blonde, it’s natural color. I suppose it’s quite odd to see a person wearing all black with blonde hair, but maybe they just think I’m some high school kid into the whole Goth scene trying to fit in with the tough kids.
Erik was the one who fully changed me. I had always been a vampire–unbeknownst to my father, my mother had had an affair with a good-looking Italian man, who happened to be a vampire, the oldest and strongest. I had no idea that my biological father would one day become my greatest nemesis.
Erik had told me of a human that knew too much about us. Erik had read one of his articles in a magazine that told of the ‘true undead,’ which had also listed his website. He had checked it out and saw that there was a bunch of information on it that was hazardous to our kind, but helpful to all that wanted us to be truly dead. He included a section on the best way to kill a vampire, to throw a gold dagger through our heart. Gold was our equivalent to the werewolf’s silver. It’s ironic, really. The moon is their mother, and her silver if fatal to them.
I had yet to learn of the human’s name, and I doubt that I ever will. When the police come I’ll be long gone, a mere ghost in their world, a memory of how things used to be. It’s a lonely life, a vampire’s. You can never have a family, friends other than in blood, or let anyone close to you. That’s all the invitation they need to hurt you.
The human steps into a bar, and I am hesitant to follow. I glance around, looking for Erik, who I am sure is nearby. I see him on the roof of a building. My eyesight can pick out his nod, and that’s all the help I need to swallow my fear of stumbling upon a group of vampire hunters celebrating a kill.
The lighting in the bar would be excellent were it not for the seemingly singular cloud of cigarette smoke in the air. My sense of smell is far superior to that of the average human’s, and I suppress the urge to wrinkle my nose at the toxic scents filling my nostrils. I smell urine, smoke, cheap bear, and...fear? I sniff again to make sure. Someone in this bar is afraid for his or her life, and I wonder why.
I sit at the bar and order a beer, just to blend in a little. I must look old enough or tough enough that the bartender didn’t ask for an ID. What would it say? ‘Paulina, born in 1904'? I would love to see the expression on his face when he found out that it was real.
The beer tastes bland, but I drink it to keep the illusion that I’m human. A cute boy offers to by me another, but I shake my head and decline the offer, careful to not let my pointed teeth show too much, if at all. Shouts ring out from the far side of the bar, and I realize that they’re watching a football game. Meaningless nonsense to someone my age, but if it makes them happy, who am I to judge?
My target leaves the bar near midnight. I wait, confident that Erik will watch him for me and call me to let me know where he’s at. Five minutes later I am hot on his trail, thanks to the directions Erik gave me. The human was heading toward a park, thankfully on foot. I follow and see that he’s about to jog through the park. I keep a close eye on him, becoming one with the shadow when he gets paranoid and whipped around, trying to catch someone behind him.
He whirls around one last time and sees me. His eyes grow wide and he reeks of fear, sudden and strong.
“Wh–what do you want from me?” I walk closer, smiling, showing him my teeth that have grown to look like fangs, rather than the irregular pointed canines that they normally are. He stumbles backward and finds me blocking his path. I am faster than any human, as are the werewolves.
“You know too much about us,” I reply, taking out my gun.
“About...you?” He thinks about it, and his color comes back. He walks closer and laughs in my face. “Oh, you’re a vampire out to seek revenge for my posting how to kill you.” He looks around in mock fear. “Is there a werewolf hiding in the bushes waiting to jump out and say boo?” I lose my patience and slam him into a tree, my hand on his throat. His laughter stops.
“Prepare to die,” I tell him. I drop him, then aim my gun at him. He cringes and backs up as far as he can, trying to push himself into the tree.
A single shot fills the air, right before the sweet smell of blood punctuates the smell of gunpowder. I leave the human, not bothering to move him to a secluded spot where he will decay before anyone will notice him.
I have killed one human that had knowledge too dangerous for him to handle, and I knew that it wouldn’t be the last. There would always be humans that know too much; I can take care of them easily. But what happens when they get the best of me? Will I disappear into the oblivion of the past or will my memory be kept safe with Erik, or maybe one of my distant relatives, remembering a story of an ancestor named Paulina? The only thing I knew was that I had an eternity to figure it out, unless I’m silenced forever.