Marcus

An evening like many others, yet different. The air seemed crisper. Lighter. Agnes couldn't smell the city. It was as if she'd stepped back in time. But that was only an illusion. She was still in the 21st century, on her way to meet friends. Although it was late at night and the streets she walked were completely empty, she wasn't afraid. She knew these nooks and crannies like the back of her hand. Besides, few people would attack a five-foot-seven girl with long black hair, a leather jacket, and combat boots. The studded collar didn't exactly make a friendly impression either. But for the past few days, Agnes had felt watched. As she walked through the narrow streets of Paris, a face caught her eye in doorways. It looked like a mask—white, almost gleaming, with eyes like empty holes. "It must be my imagination," the girl thought, but her heart, frantic with fear, refused to accept such an explanation. The face disappeared before she could get a good look at it. But she watched it every day.

But tonight, the young Parisian hadn't seen the disturbing apparition. She'd been walking through the narrow alleyways for a good twenty minutes. She hadn't encountered a soul, except for a drunk man sprawled at the mouth of the alley. She felt a little more confident. She glanced at her watch and shouted. It was almost midnight, and she'd arranged to meet the package at the club at a quarter past. She knew they'd wait, but she didn't like being late. She quickened her pace when something strange caught her eye. It was the sound of footsteps, footsteps that were clearly following her. Agnes stopped and looked back, but saw nothing. She shrugged and continued walking, but stopped again when she heard footsteps. She turned. A shadow flickered in the doorway and vanished before she could catch sight of it.

"Show yourself!" she shouted, but only silence answered. "Show yourself, coward!"

A tall figure emerged from the gate. Agnes, startled, stepped back. A scream caught in her throat. Before her stood a man of exceptional beauty. His face radiated with light, seemingly woven from the moonlight—the same moon that now hung in the sky. The man's hair was perfectly black, like coal. And his eyes... Agnes looked into his pupils and felt herself drowning. Their pure blue, tinged with yellow, drew her in like the whirlpool of a careless sailor. "

Come to me."

The words echoed in her mind. Their tone soothed all suspicion. It was impossible for someone with a voice like that to want to harm her. This was what angels must sound like, if they existed. "

Come to me, Agnes..."

He held out his hands, and she slowly approached him. Her intuition screamed at her to flee, but Agnes had stopped listening to her intuition. Now, only the voice mattered. He was still a few steps away.

Agnes.

Finally, she fell into his arms. She nestled into the stranger's arms.

"Who are you?" she asked quietly.

"Death," he replied, sinking his fangs into her neck. A moment of pain blinded her for a moment. But it was only a moment. She felt so... insubstantial now. She felt herself being torn from her body. Like she was floating among the clouds... She looked up at the moon and cried out in surprise. It had never seemed so real. The soft music of a violin drifted to her ears. This music roused her to dance. A dance with Death. Her body was weakening, but her soul stubbornly clung to it.

Don't fight. There's no point.

The voice in her mind sounded so convincing, but she didn't want to end this kiss of blood.

"Drink and don't finish. Please..." she said. It was the last thought in her mind. After a moment, her head fell limply onto her shoulders. Agnes was still alive, but it wouldn't last. The vampire gently lowered her to the ground and crouched beside her. Despite the weakness that gripped her, the girl opened her eyes.

"Farewell," the man said, brushing stray locks of hair from her forehead. Agnes tried to say something else but didn't have time. Her eyes became dead, as dead as flesh.

"Farewell," the vampire whispered again and rose. He took one last look at his victim, now lying limp on the ground, and walked away into the darkness.

A few hours later, the vampire Marcus locked himself in a stone sarcophagus in a spacious chamber. He settled comfortably on the pillows. The girl's blood still pulsed gently in his veins. He closed his eyes. But before numbness took hold of his body, he saw her eyes again. Her pupils, hundreds of years away, seeing more and more. Pupils that, after a moment, became dead.

A faint smile appeared on Marcus's face. He fell asleep.