Murder By Death [Don]

[Giselle Audley]

Giselle strutted down a narrow alley right before she would hit the streets with everlasting life in Paris. Her mood was hard to explain. Of course, she wore her infamous scowl. She didn’t smile unless something made her. She sidestepped a mud puddle. Her designer leather boots cost her too much to be ruined now. She wore clothes of the latest fashion in France. The most expensive clothes, too. He beauty and wealth mocked the homeless mortals and vampires around her. She wouldn’t have it any other way.

She wore, of course, her black leather boots, casual jeans that she herself saw to be made according to her liking. They hugged her hips and thighs to boast her thin form. She sported a long, brown leather jacket which curved in her frame. The jacket reached at least twelve inches below her hip. It was left open so her tank top was shown. It was carefully cut an laced, red and black. It looked almost medieval. Two black ribbons zig zagged widely down the middle. Black lace on top of red satin.

She accessorised, of course. She wore the finest jewelry. A diamond ring was brandished on her left, middle finger on top of her skin-tight black leather glove so her dainty hands could be shown even covered. A necklace that was hard to miss given it’s size on her bare, white chest. A translucent scarf looped around her neck. It didn’t serve a purpose to cover her neck against the cold, it was just a strip of about two inches, used to draw attention to her ghostly white neck. The two ends of the scarf ended just below where her tank top started.

Her make-up was dramatic. Black eyeshadow and dark red lip gloss. A soft blush illuminated her prominent cheekbones. Her hair, a sort of light and dark red reached her shoulders. A gorgeous woman she was, but a very deadly one. She just reached the end of the alley. She sent a dog whimpering away with it’s tail between his legs when she hissed at the creature, silencing it’s maddening howls. With lightning speed, she zipped down the street to the greenhouse she was looking for. On the other side lay a garden.

In this famous garden, she knew would be many people, admiring the plants from willow trees to roses. She could already smell the mortals. She hadn’t eaten in three days, saving her appetite for this night in particular. The thought of her plan, a massacre in such a beautiful place made her smile dangerously. She strolled into the garden and gazed at the feast before her eyes. The garden was huge, there were at least fifty people there for her taking. She could imagine the face of the police force when they would come to find the mess of bodies and blood amongst the beautiful plant life.

She nonchalantly locked the greenhouse door behind her. An hour before she came to padlock the door on the far side from the outside. The walls were obnoxiously high, no one could escape now. She checked the door on the other side of the garden and saw that it was still locked. Lovely. Now she could enjoy her feast in peace. She snatched the mortal nearest to her, a middle-aged man. She dug into his flesh with her teeth in the shadows of a tree in the very back of the garden. No one saw her. She ripped his wrist open and tore at the flesh of the other wrist, gnawing viciously. When she sucked him dry, she stood up straight, hastily wiped the blood from her mouth and was careful not to stain her clothes. With vampire strength, she hoisted up the body and threw it over the wall. She knew there was an alley there which no one bothered to check.

[don]

The slave was out of its cage, tearing away at the woman’s tender flesh and digging towards the bone. She fainted as blood drained from her aging, sagging face and Don allowed the slave to feast, all the time wondering if the guilt would suffer, as it always had. The result of his mortal memories, causing his gut to shrivel and spread the blind hopelessness through his weary mind. It was a tradition after every feed. The slave would run free, and then the guilt would catch it and tug it back. Then only that terribly mortal feeling would be left. That slave - Slave, incubus, monster, whatever you called that ever-present creature – was the only part of his living that was life anymore. The slave conquered most vampires during night and day, and those vampires were alive.

But the slave was still out. It ran rampant that night, murdering one college student, and now this made-up housewife who lay dead and crumpled on the pavement, her mouth slouched into a frown. Don stepped over the corpse and dug his hands into his woolen coat, cold air whispering on his face. The night’s sky was a reddish black, the color of paints mixed together on a pallet. Mist blurred the street lights and guarded the distance from sight, holding in it droplets of soft rain which seemed to come from below, above, and all sides of the vampire.

He donned a black trench coat buttoned down the front, black leather gloves, and a wide brimmed fedora worn for the sake of not being seen. Don didn’t want to be caught feeding and find the angry villagers pounding at his door. He started to wear his hat after a fight with a policeman, who somehow knew him from another city. It guarded his eyes, and he felt it was more effect than sunglasses.

The green house door came into sight and Don quickened his pace, finally reaching the garden to find it locked. Not dissuaded, he was about to break in, when an old man greeted him from behind. The care-taker it appeared, shirt rolled up to the elbows and a ring of keys attached to his overalls. How adorable.

“Let me open this up for you,” the caretaker smiled, unclipping the ring and picking out a jagged bronze key. The man unlocked the door with a shaking hand, and led the vampire inside. Not sensing any mortals around, and overlooking the vampire, Don’s hunger overtook him. He grabbed the caretaker and ended his life within a minute, the old man uttering no more than a whimper. Don didn’t work hard to get rid of the corpse, but hid it behind a large bush after before locking the door of the greenhouse.

[Giselle Audley]

Giselle sniffed the semi-warm air and caught a whiff of vampire. No, she thought outraged, not here, not now, this is my kill. This was her night, not some other vampire's night. And besides, what if the vampire was one of those revolting mortal-loving ones. What if he tried to stop her or tried to let the mortals go? Giselle shuddered, that would be the worst possible thing to happen. The vampire could want to share her kill... over her dead body! It looked like there was only one thing to do; hold off on her murder spree until she could get rid of the vampire. Maybe, just maybe if she liked him, she'd let him share her kill. She highly doubted that.

Giselle liked flirting with men, but she hated when they stole her kill. If a vampire was going in for the bite, but Giselle decided she wanted the mortal, it would become hers regardless of what the other vampire objected. Giselle always got what she wanted. She was in one situation where her love decided to leave her. She never wanted to go through that again so she decided to stay away from dating. The vampire which was with her in the garden ticked her off, so to speak. He just symbolized something she could never have; a companion who truly cared about her.

She crept through the garden until she was in sight of the vampire. He was indeed male. He had a sort of evil disposition. Giselle sort of felt she could have a good conversation about blood and gore with him if she wanted to. She figured that he was her sort of vampire, perfect for flirting with until she could get rid of him. She was still very hungry. She came out from behind a bleeding maple tree and went to stand beside the gentleman. "So there's one of my kind here, what a coincidence. What brings a vampire like yourself to such a beautiful garden like this one? We're not hunting here tonight, are we?" she said in barely a whisper in a strong french accent, knowing the vampire would hear her, unlike the rest of the mortal ears.

[don]

Strands of dark hair clung to smudge of blood on his cheek and he brushed them away with annoyance. He sometimes felt an overwhelming claustrophobia caused by his black mane, but could never muster the will to cut it. Some nights, he would grab his knife and get ready to chop it all off, but he never did. He lived as a vampire, and he liked his appearance to mirror his first nature. There was also some reluctant part of him that remembers how his wife used to ask him to trim it. It was a joke with his sister, who subtly added puns into conversations with Don’s co-workers and her husband’s business partners. He thought his sister would be amused if she knew that he still hadn’t cut his hair, even after so many years.

He found himself smiling like a fool, gazing in the direction of the caretaker’s body with a distant glaze in his eyes. He felt glad to be saved from reminiscing by this other vampire. He tried to avoid going into the past. Everything was dead there, false, from the eyes of a happy mortal with minimal understanding of the word. Like all mortals, he had been stupid. With immortality came understanding and the true perception of the world, and then came misery, because after all the things a vampire sees he can no longer believe that the world is mostly good. The weak get tired of the pain. So they convert. They become part of it. That’s how you survive.

Don stared at the vampire. He smiled wickedly, fangs protruding over his bottom lip.
“What else would I be doing? Admiring the beauty of the night from inside a glass shell? Sniffing the flowers? No, I just had my meal. The dead boy behind the bush. However, there’s always room for more. What a pity you’re not a human.”
He looked her over.
“Although you are very beautiful.”

[Giselle Audley]

A closer look at the vampire proved that he was very good-looking. Dark and handsome, she couldn't stand the blond surfer boy type. They were obnoxious vampires, she noted that they didn't use standard English. They were so plain. Definitely not her type. The men she liked to flirt with had to be men with a good build but not bulging muscles. He had to have dark hair and eyes. He would need a pretty good temper to put up with Giselle.

Most importantly, he must have nothing to do with the mortal world, it was vital that he thought mortals were filthy rats who couldn't take care of themselves. Their only purpose was vampire food. If a vampire dared to say, "what's wrong with mortals?" to her then she'd rip out one of his fangs. If you had reason to feel for mortals then there was no reason to be a vampire.

She scowled for a split second when the vampire mentioned he had dinner on one of her mortals. She'd put up a fight, but it would be stupid to do it now in front of her kill. She shot a glance at the door the vampire left open. It would look suspicious if she locked it but she was risking her kill, it was getting late and some were starting to leave. "I see. No sense in going hungry," she muttered. Now for the problem at hand: how to get rid of this guy, god she was starving.

There was no time for small talk. She had to get right to the point but casually. Once she feasted on her dinner, there would be chaos and she really didn't want another vampire here. Maybe she could forget this and grab a mortal on her way back to her mansion? But the opportunity to attack the garden tonight was right there and she had been looking forward to it.

Giselle beamed when the vampire complimented her. If he said anything otherwise, she would have slugged him. Vampires and foolish mortal men complimented her on a daily basis. She also adored mocking mortal men before she went in for the kill. "Thank you, may I have the honor of your name?" she asked.

[don]

The vampire seemed pleased by his comment, giving him another clue to her personality. A vain creature, an attractive trait in vampires, but an aggravating one in mortals, and obviously territorial by the way she questioned him on his hunting habits. He would prefer these characteristics to submissive and kind, having discovered that sweet vampires often became clingy lovers. An ideal mate had to be attractive, strong, and sensual. If a vampire’s role included murdering mortals and taking their blood, a mate had to be equally vicious.

He remembered the women he found attractive in his youth. Things changed since then. Times changed, and so did the traits thought to be attractive in the modern woman. The vampire had full red lips and soft pale skin, perfume smelling of spices and sweetness, intoxicating him. It reminded him of teenager hood and the times when he looked through bar windows with friends and bragged about what he’d do once he got old enough. A time of danger, promise, and a sense that things laid waiting. Surprising how different the world became through adult eyes.

“Don,” he replied, “Formen.”
He felt he had to add the next bit to ensure she wouldn’t be threatened by his presence there.
“I’m not out for your food. I just had my bit, although I would have preferred something younger.”
He licked his lips of the last smudges of blood. Any blood was good blood, even if it came from a wrinkled, old mortal. But he enjoyed the younger ones the most. The ones who wanted to live were the most fun. He enjoyed their fear and the way their heart’s frenzied beating as he dragged the life out of them.
“I’ve never seen you here before. What do you call yourself?”

[Giselle Audley]

Giselle smiled wickedly, her perfectly white teeth were blinding. She exposed her fangs and it sent a mortal backpedaling through a rosebush. She began to pace back and forth slowly and carefully as she talked to Don, an appropriate name for a vampire if she did say so herself. Her name meant, "A Promise," when she looked it up. It was suitable for her. She was a promise for the "good" vampires of her kind that feasted on mortals.

As she walked past Don, she looked him in the eyes and could almost see his true nature. He did not hunt animals, he hunted humans. But was he a strictly human thirsting vampire? How old was this vampire in the first place? Giselle was very young, she was only 21 when she was made and now nine years later here she was. Seeking the fun out of the bite. She honestly thought that elderly vampires were no fun what so ever. They lived their vampire life seeking the fun but then it grew boring. They'd start to question who they were and where they came from and if god truly turned his back from them.

Then there were some vampires way off their rocker and they snapped one day and committed suicide. Giselle winced, averting her gaze into Don’s eyes for a moment. How could a vampire give up this glorious life? A wonderful gift was bestowed upon them and they just gave it up one day, not wanting to go on anymore. She would never do that.

The bite would always and forever be pleasurable to her. Why would she want to know about her past and where vampires originated from? What good would that do her? She never sought to travel the world except on some occasions where she wanted to try different blood. Her goal was to remind all vampires of what they were. Beautiful monsters who lived for the night. Not a creature who hides in the shadows afraid of murdering innocent souls. A promise to her world indeed.

"Giselle Audley," she replied. She had no problem giving her name away. Her favorite line before she was just about to finish off a mortal was, "Remember the name Giselle Audley in your afterlife. You can tell all the souls in heaven what became of you. A good virgin destroyed by a devil." Simply a way to taunt the merciless mortals. She was no devil. She was turned away from heaven, her soul left her but she would not go to hell. She was a dead body. Alive to her kind but dead to the mortals.

She ceased her pacing and listened to the next part of what Don had to say about her meal. She was relieved that he could let her feed alone. Without looking away from the vampire's eyes she snatched at a mortal and curled her hand around a man's neck. She squeezed until she felt the pulse begin to die down. He was completely unaware of her, he didn't see it coming and he didn't have time to scream or fight back.

She ripped into his flesh and drank his blood generously. She did it fast and disposed of the dried corpse in the rosebush. Her eyes left Don's to dart around the garden. She couldn't see anything that would prove a mortal saw her and she didn't hear anything. She did hear, however, the man who fell over the rosebush say, "...and I could have sworn I saw fangs!" to his friend.

Giselle rolled her eyes and returned her attention back to Don. "I certainly hope that man doesn't say anything else. If he does, he looks young enough for you, yes?" she asked almost seductively. She was inviting him to take one of her mortals. She figured she could spare one if it meant a few more hours with Don. She like the company of other vampires like herself for a little while. She already learned to be lonely a while ago and she knew she could live with it after what "he" did to her. She was flirting indeed but to her it meant nothing. He was a mere vampire on her windshield of life... or rather death. He didn't mean anything to her unless he proved that she meant something to him.

[don]

Don usually wouldn’t go after a mortal unless he saw something that attracted, but watching Giselle feed riled the hunger up in him. It always excited him to see another vampire doing as nature intended, which was why he enjoyed feeding in pairs. Yet, as common as feeding had become over the years, Don still considered it intimate. He rarely went hunting with males. He found that his competitive side came out when he hung around anyone of the opposite sex, like a wolf guarding his prey. The opposite happened with females. The vampire had a very base nature. Perhaps more close to an animal than any human, or most of them. Some mortals had a unique sickness that made them think they were vampires. Don liked to feed off of these humans because they became so confused. They thought they were the hunter and he was the prey, but it turned out differently then they had expected. He once went to a vampire club where seven or eight vampires were feeding off of one of these inane creatures. It turned out that the mortal came in and made an impressive scene before being tied down for the drink. Don took a mouthful before he left.

A young man walked by with a blonde woman beside him. She laughed delicately as he talked. No doubt at something less-charming then she thought it was.
“He looks fresh,” Don commented as the couple walked to a bench surrounded by full white roses and they sat. The man leaned in to murmur in his girlfriend’s ear, their hands clasped between them, and she smiled, eyes dropping to her lap. Don wondered which one should be his meal. The woman for her shameful modesty, or the man for his part as the sappy lover – both reasonably punishable. As much as Don would have enjoyed snapping the woman’s romantic reality, Don decided on the male. A few less hearts would be broken because of it.

Don sent a mischievous smile in Giselle’s direction.
“Watch me work baby.”
He left her with a wink and walked towards the couple with an apologetic smile ready on his lips.
“Hey folks,” he interrupted, “I’m sorry, but you’re not allowed to sit on the benches. Policy. I understand what it looks like, but you’re going to have to get up.”
As he suspected, the man’s eyes darkened with anger.
“What the heck are you saying, dude?” he snapped, standing up abruptly. The blonde looked up nervously.
“Sir, don’t make a scene.”
“Don’t tell me what to do old man.” Hit a nerve.
Don grabbed him by the collar and lifted him up the short inch to his face.
“It’s like this. If you don’t get up right now, you’ll see worse than a bloody nose.”
The man struggled and pushed, and at last landing a heavy ball of spit in Don’s face. This finally ended it. Don spun him around and dug his fangs into the tender skin of his neck. The woman began to scream. ‘Shut up,’ Don thought, ‘shut up. shut up.’

[Giselle Audley]

Giselle's eyes flew to the couple Don found suitable for him. A nice choice, she supposed. She liked something fresh, too but she wasn't very picky with her food. Someone had to kill the elders and she didn't mind doing it, one less person in the world. She once fed on a newborn and found it very appealing, well actually she was skulking in a hospital, she picked up a baby and she spit up on her. She had to kill her. The shirt she was wearing was brand new. When Don left to go work his magic on the two mortals, Giselle gave him a puzzled look while his back was turned. The bench was out in the open and there were a lot of mortals walking around. She wondered if he meant to cause a scene since there were two of them and one would probably start screaming.

She grinned then, realizing that Don was trying to show off... for her. Most male vampires liked to, the smart one's at least. The others who thought she was a monster, well the night didn't end so well for them. She appreciated Don's choice on how to deal with the mortals, play with them first and then finish them. It was, after all, the best way. It was what vampires called fun, mocking mortals. She still had her little servant vampire somewhere. That thing was a poor excuse for a vampire. He called her something along the lines of, "evil witch," or, "psycho lady," and she couldn't have that, it was just too much of an insult. She wanted him to suffer forever so she made him a vampire. Since then, he's been doing her bidding. When she didn't have a very good day it was great fun to take her anger out on him.

Well, Don did end up causing a scene. He killed the male and the female started screeching. Giselle rolled her eyes. Sure, she wanted to kill everyone here but first she wanted to talk with Don a little more. She wanted to know where he came from, how old he was, etc. She sauntered up behind the mortal girl, grabbed hold of her neck and twisted it. The screaming ceased and she heard the crack that she wanted. She dove into her wrist and sucked her dry in a split second. She smiled at Don, "smooth move, monsieur Foremen. Now if you please, I would simply love to hear more about you but obviously not here. I would take my time murdering the rest of the mortals but I am so curious about you. Will you please help me finish them off? Two vampires are faster than one. I invite you to my mansion," she said so the mortals who were just starting to see what happened could hear.

First there was harmony and now there was chaos. All the mortals were causing a riot. Some were trying to escape, but of course they couldn't. A young man obviously trying to be a hero snuck up behind Giselle. She spun around to hungrily bore holes into his neck with her eyes. With a warning growl, she burrowed her fans into his neck. When he was dead, she looked around at the garden now. Blood stained the bright yellow flowers and dark green grass. Mortals were climbing trees in a sad attempt to escape the vampire who surveyed the scene, wondering who she should kill next. Beyond the blood curdling screams she could hear sirens and pounding at the doors. Too bad no mortal could do anything for Giselle's victims.

[don]

Don grinned, wiping a blood from the corner of his mouth with the side of his thumb. He loved the attention. He felt exhilarated knowing that whoever looked at him saw a complete monster, almost as if common opinion made it true. They made him strong. To them, he did not have a weakness. He had never loved, or died. He stood like death - a horrible legend in the moment. The tangy promise infected the air. Blood invaded his body. In his throat, his nostrils, his tounge. He ceased to see individuals anymore. The hectic animals running around in that damp, wide-open room, with its slim moon closed out by the yellow light, were all mortals. All prey. They were his and Giselle’s. Nothing else mattered once Giselle stopped talking. The pounding at the doors seemed dim. Those were strong doors. They wouldn’t break easily.

A mortal man slammed into him and ripped at his shirt, tearing it. Don angrily wrapped his hand around the man’s neck and lifted him up. His legs flailed in the air and his weak hands scraped desperately against Don’s veined arm. Don dropped the man when he had the worth of his shirt, and followed him, kneeling down and draining the mortal with only a weak protest. Once finished, Don stood up and strode forward to grab the next mortal. A nine-year old child. He hesitated. Her eyes were large brown with tears shimmering on the edges. She had such a young face, and the vampire knelt to his mortal memory. He released her and turned his face as she ran, already feeling the hunger flood down on him again like the Red Sea over Pharaoh’s soldiers. He pulled a running woman towards him and cut into her neck, her shrieks dying down to faint moans as her sagging skin paled and her arms fell. Next the man behind the bush, then the boy, then the Gardner, the mother, the father, the groom – so many lives ended and he heard the doors begin to release under the police force’s shoulder. They would enter to the scene of a massacre. They would be on the front page of every newspaper in Paris. Some people would laugh (‘Sure, vampires. So they all say.’) but others would lock their windows at night and tell their children not to go out to that movie, or to see that friend.

What would Elizabeth do if she knew what he was? Don felt certain of the answer. She would kill him herself.
A few humans were left cowering against a wall, but Don had stopped. He wasn’t there anymore. He was somewhere else.

A woman removes her coat and hangs it on the brass end of a queen sized bed. She picks up newspaper with the date of August 15th 1905 and the headlines of ‘Kidnapped Girl Found’, and attempts to read as she undresses and then pulls on a formal white shirt with a high neck, and a plain brown skirt. She doesn’t look up as her dark young husband enters the room. He glances at her and snatches the paper, turning around before she can grab it back.
“Why do you wear that thing? It’s terribly dull,” he says.
She glares at his back.
“You don’t like any of my clothing Don.”
He shrugs, smiling faintly as he turns again to face her.
“It just needs a little tweaking,” he says as he carefully unhooks the first three buttons of her shirt, brushing the skin of her neck as he smoothes out the edges. She shivers.
“Why don’t you buy me something pretty, Don?” she says softly, wrapping her arms around his neck. The night is cold and a storm is approaching. The window panes rattle under a heavy gust of wind.
“A professor only makes enough for a few things. I can buy you a dress for this coming holiday, but if you want more than one, you’ll have to divorce me and marry a banker.”
She looks up at him with a mischievous smile.
“Not likely. I like my men sarcastic, handsome, and poor. No banker can qualify.”
He returns the smile.
“Well good, because if you divorced me and married a banker, I’d have to become one myself and win you back.”
“You should not have to worry. As long as you still love me every holiday, I won’t need a new dress, or even a banker.”

Don hurtled back to the brutal reality of their situation. They had to get rid of the last mortals (or at least the ones who hadn’t somehow escaped) and then they had to leave. The door would be down in a minute or two. Don helped to finish off the rest of the mortals and then stopped to talk to Giselle.
“We have to leave – but I’d love to see your mansion. How do we get out, do you think, without being noticed?”

[Giselle Audley]

Don gave into his thirst and Giselle followed not even mere seconds after. Her eyes explored the mass of shrilling people of all ages. Too hungry to care about her dinner, she grabbed the nearest woman and drained her. She let her fall to the ground carelessly and seized a boy, no more than twelve years of age. She ripped through flesh and bone in his leg while she sent warning growls and snarls to anyone who thought they could help the innocent boy. His mother, she assumed, stood screeching until her throat was raw. Giselle threw the carcass over her shoulder, crouched down, and sprang for the neck. She was too fast to be noticed. The mother was dead and she moved onto her next victim.

She murdered a good amount of mortals, the blood rushing through her refreshed her. Slight aches in her muscles that she collected were healed in an instant. She went through nineteen... twenty... twenty-one... twenty-two... mortals when she looked back for Don who she forgot was even there. She didn't care to try and see how he was doing, he could take care of himself. Heart-beats were pounding in her head like a dull drum and the sensation of slipping one's fangs into a soft neck drugged her, as it always did. All she could think about for the past twenty-two mortals was more. Now that her thirst was dying, she remembered Don was there.

She spotted him standing quite still and then he came out of the position as if he was suddenly woken up. The sight of him standing so still sent a shiver up her spine which was too uncomfortable to bear. She hooked her fangs into the nearest available neck and the blood warmed her up. She looked again at Don and the feeling came back. Since when didn't blood cure everything bad in a vampire's world? Something was strange and she could only guess that Don was having a flashback. She shook her head and took a few more lives while thoughts on how Don was not telling her everything drifted through her mind. He was most definitely keeping something from her.

Giselle's eyes shifted up slowly to meet Don's when he addressed her. He was right, it was time to high tail it out of here, enough blood for one night. She made the scene she wanted. "My mansion it is. Follow me," she murmured. Of course she planned her grand exit before-hand. With a final look at Don, she cantered over to a blood-red tree with vampire speed and lurched for a branch. Constricting the thick branch with her hands, she flipped over it once like a gymnast on a bar and hurled her body up and over the wall. On the other side of the garden wall where she could still hear the cries of mortals, she landed on her feet like a cat and waited for Don's arrival.

[don]

The police finally knocked the doors down and flooded in with guns raised to eye level. They reacted professionally, eyes darting from ceiling to floor, checking behind blood-wet bushes and rounding up the last few survivors. Everywhere they stepped, they had to avoid trampling over a body. Don hadn’t left such a mess since his first feed, and had never gotten so much attention. The whole damn government surrounded the garden, red lights flashing through the glass and onto the peaceful faces of the victims inside. Don still felt unnerved from that last memory. He followed Giselle with a minimum of showing-off, and a large helping of urgency, landing on his feet next to her with a light thud and not stopping to talk. It didn’t matter which way her home was. Just that they escaped unnoticed.

As it turned out, the escape did not prove difficult. Don led Giselle around the crowd, and even when humans came into sight, no one paid them any mind. If they had, they would have seen two blood creatures running from the scene of the crime, but probably be too frightened to do anything about it. It would be sensible of them to stay back. Having just killed forty or so humans, Don wouldn’t be too hesitant to kill some more. He felt heightened by the blood, his senses fresh and alert like sun shining off of snow. He could feel every movement around him. He could hear the tapping of a dog’s nails as it ran back to safety, away from the noise and clamor. Don swerved around the corner of an alleyway to follow it. He had a better sense of smell than that mutt, but the pooch knew how to get away.

Don only stopped when the sounds of sirens dimmed and he was off the main road. He looked around him. They were in a maze of thin alleyways with cobblestones under their feet and water dripping down the brick walls. Don looked up at the sky. The sun wasn’t nearly up, but he felt disgusted by the human race. He didn’t want to be around them anymore.
“Now that I’ve led us into the middle of nowhere, would you rather go to my home or is yours still an option?”
He had no idea how close her mansion was, but he know where his pigsty was located. A building hardly a mile away where bums liked to sleep in the halls but the shower still worked. It was his luxury. Thank god for the shower.

[Giselle Audley]

Giselle followed Don closely. She was almost unable to resist the mortals running past her. How she craved one! She could almost hear the manic beating of their hearts as they sprinted away or toward the garden. Now would have been the perfect opportunity to take a mortal life. With all the chaos, no one would notice a vampire feasting on mortal blood. Blood was a bad addiction for her and every vampire alike. Finally, she couldn't stand it any longer, she took a swipe at the nearest wrist and stopped for a second to suck the blood from it. The man fell but the mortals didn't seem to care.

She ran to catch up with Don, the blood she just drank fueling her. She followed Don until they were clear of the mess of mortals. She turned to the vampire after he had spoken. "Oh, we're not in the middle of nowhere," and she pointed down an alley. Beyond it was the titanic mansion that was home to her. She took off in that direction, leading Don through the alley to the double doors. She removed a key from her pocket and unlocked the door.

The main entrance was simply a high room with a circular ceiling and a crystal chandelier and the double black marble stair case, both sides spiraled up to lead to the upstairs. On either side of the hall was an entranceway, one leading to the kitchen and offices, the other leading to the numerous family rooms. She removed her jacket and left it on the coat rack beside the door.

"Please, make yourself at home," Giselle said before disappearing up the stairs to see how her mortals were. She invited stranded humans in regularly and invited them to stay the night, of course, they never left the next morning.

[don]

Don listened to his footsteps on the marble floors, looking around him with solemn respect for the grand structure. It seemed a lot of room for one person, but maybe at one time she kept servants. He used to have a maid. She had the dirtiest hair he’d ever and he used to spray Elizabeth’s perfume around the house when she went home at night. When the maid moved to America, Don decided to have his sister come over on weekends. She told him she would agree to come if he paid her the maid’s allowance. Don looked into some of the rooms. They all looked so sharp-ended and neat, as if no one had ever gone into them.

“I hope ‘make yourself at home’ means a free shower,” he called, his voice echoing throughout the house. He found a guest room with a bathroom that looked like it came from psycho. He pulled his blood-soaked clothes off and left them in the sink and went to the shower knob, wincing at the high pitched squeal. Natural sounds were not meant for the vampire ear. Don couldn’t listen to loud music anymore. If a human put on his headphones, they would have to have complete quiet in order to hear.

Don felt relieved at the hot water, shivering at the feel of the water rushing over his cold bare skin. The blood twisted down into the drain and he lifted his face to the stream, goose bumps rising on his arms. When he was done he reluctantly got out of the shower and squeezed the water and blood from his clothes. They dried with surprising speed, and when he put them on, he was only a little damp. Once finished, he went to find Giselle again. He hated to desert her, but he needed that shower. It refreshed him after her bloated on blood.

[Giselle Audley]

OOC: Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry I had damn midterms all week, but now their over!

Giselle softly rapped on a polished mahogany door, the last one down the hall where she kept her twenty or so guest rooms. "Yes? Mademoiselle Audley?" a voice from inside responded. "It is me, may I come in?" Giselle asked sweetly. "Of course Mademoiselle Audley," the female said. Giselle turned the doorknob and slipped inside, "Please call me Giselle," she said. "How are you liking your stay here tonight?" she added.

"It is much to my liking. You have been very generous," on the king sized bed a young child yawned a rubbed her eyes before fixing them on Giselle. Giselle gave the girl a sinister smile and the little girl's eyes widened and she turned around in the bed. Children were smart, it seemed like they were the first one's to detect danger. Giselle turned her attention back to the women.

"It was such a relief to find your mansion. We have been walking through that maze of alley's all day and we are so grateful for your hospitality," the mortal said. "It is no problem at all. I ask if you could accompany me downstairs in a little bit? I have a guest and I'd like to introduce you to him," Giselle said. "Yes, of course" the lady responded. "Excellent," Giselle whispered as she retreated out of the room. Smirking with satisfaction, she sauntered to her own room.

Giselle chose the mansion herself. She loved the location, isolated and gloomy so no mortals would bother her but in the perfect place so lost mortals could seek refuge. Death lived in this mansion and death found the stranded mortals before they could leave. She unlocked her bedroom door with a solid gold key and entered.

Of all the rooms in the house Giselle's room was best one. Immense in size, paintings covered the crimson walls, black drapes covered the windows, candelabra's were hung on the walls and they held crimson candles in place. The floor was black marble. Her coffin, which was able to fit five vampires comfortably, was lined with red silk and the outside was polished black. Her bathroom was nearly the size of the room itself, the bathtub was equivalent to the size of two hot tubs and one sink stretched over the counter top. A gold rimmed mirror covered an entire wall from ceiling to floor. Roses were placed in vases throughout the room and bathroom. She had a big screen T.V. and a computer sat on a desk. Her closet held many clothes and her extravagant jewelry and make-up had a closet of it's own.

Giselle threw her bag in her coffin and turned the television on. She flipped to the news channel and to her amusement, she saw the massacre in the garden. The bodies were removed but blood soaked the grass and other plant life. A witness described Giselle, no doubt a sketch of her would be in the newspaper the next day. Giselle rifled through a drawer next to her coffin, in it were newspaper articles that all had something to do with her in them. From her art of making puncture wounds in necks to her previous massacres where she left her trademark, a rose. She was amazed all of France didn't know who she was.

Finally turning the television off, she left her bedroom to return to Don. She found him in the hallway by the guest rooms she kept downstairs. It was clear that he had taken a shower. "Yes, I know one person doesn't need all this room but it suits me fine. Shall we sit in the family room?" she asked as she began to walk in that direction and planting herself onto the leather sofa. "I have two mortals upstairs if you get hungry. If you don't, they mustn't leave this house in the morning anyway. It's only a matter of time before they find corpses in the room next to them," she cackled. Oh how she loved scaring mortals.