The Blood of the Stars

Chapter 1

Steve could hear the approaching footsteps from six blocks away...he thought briefly of running; not out of fear- his kind knew little of fear- but due to the fact that he didn't want to talk to the SOB. It was Roland he thought. Sounded like him.

A few moments later, he found he was right. Nope, Steve thought sardonically, if I'd run, he just would have followed me.

Steve... Roland greeted with a nod, Steve just nodded back.

Heard the news? he asked. Steve didn't bother to answer, nor did he bother to hide his look of irritation.

I know, I know, Roland held up his hand, he knew Steve didn't keep current with the goings-on, but this is different. Both Greg and Otto are missing. Roland did seem rather agitated, now that Steve took the effort to notice, and now he understood why. If it was just Greg, Roland wouldn't be here right now; that little drunk was always on the lam. But Otto, that was a different story altogether- he hardly ever left his Father's side.

Before he had a chance to ask any questions, Roland was speaking again. Father's called a meeting- tonight- everybody's going to be there...

Where? Steve interrupted, clearly alarmed.

Roland smirked at him, Here, of course...

Are you out of your minds!? Steve raged, just how many damned...

Relax, Roland said, smiling openly and clearly amused by Steve's concern. It isn't what you think, this is the last place we think Otto was

Steve calmed down somewhat, but still; having a meeting in the middle of New York city...

Just then, as if by providence, two little girls turned onto the street. Students, judging by the outfits, they couldn't be more than 6 or 7. Steve turned his head to look at Roland, who, of course, was eying the girls. Bastard.

7 o'clock tonight, in the main reservoir junction, under 15th street...don't be late And with that, Roland turned with a shark-like grin and walked off in the same direction the two little girls were heading.

Steve was disgusted- he didn't want to hear this. He thrust his hands into his pants pocket and realized with a shock- his phone was there, but not his headphones. The shop! Walking briskly across the mostly deserted street, Steve headed for a lonely alley entrance. Once he got there, out of the potential view of any security cameras, he ran. Crossing ten city blocks in less than three seconds, he stopped running as he came to the street where his bookstore was located. He began walking again as he exited the alley two doors down from his shop. There was a traffic camera at the next intersection down, and Steve couldn't chance it.

He reached the door of his little book shop and withdrew his keys unnaturally fast. He almost made it when he heard the soft crunch of cartilage from half a mile away. Then another, followed by a muffled whimper. Steve's shoulders slumped in defeat as he finally unlocked the front door.

Bastard. He spoke out loud as he entered his shop.

Chapter 2

At precisely 8 o'clock, George showed up for work. He didn't see Steve, but could hear him in the back. As he passed the counter with the cash register, he saw Steve's mp3 headphones lying on the counter; shredded practically into dust.

Stefan! George called out. He was the only one who called Steve by his original name. Steve came through the doorless passage to the back room holding mugs of coffee for the both of them.

George regarded the look on Steve's face. The anger was mostly gone now, replaced by a resigned sadness and...shame? Whatever was on his mind, it was serious, George thought.

He took a deep breath, Ran into Roland this morning. Or, rather, he ran into me... George pursed his lips as Steve spoke. This wasn't going to be good news.

They're having a meet tonight, Just like Steve had done, George interrupted, Where?

Here, in the city... Steve replied, finally looking up at his friend as he spoke.

Dear God... George began. Steve didn't blink. He said it's only because the boy's are missing, and this is the last place they were, or so he says.

George wasn't placated by this, nor did he seem very interested in what had just been said about the missing Greg and Otto.

Still... George was speechless. He wasn't around for the last meeting, over 300 years ago, but Stefan had told him about it. They'd held it next to a small village in Peru. The Father had joked that they had an on-site buffet. And when the meeting was over, they killed every last villager and wiped out all evidence that they had ever existed. George had evidently feared the same thing that Steve had- that there were so many now, they needed a bigger buffet. One with over a million snacks.

Yes, still... Steve answered, again thinking along the same lines as George.

Do you know how many there are now? George asked. Steve shook his head.

Enough, I'm sure.

Chapter 3

Steve and George were pleased (and a little relieved) when Mrs. Gartner showed up- a little later than her normal time, but it was soon obvious why. Good mornin' boys! How are you today! The way the 70 some odd year old woman made the greeting into a statement always made Steve smile, and today was no different.

This here is my sister, Bertha, she's up from Florida this week, I'm gonna show her around the big city! If he hadn't been told, George never would have guessed them as being related. Mrs. Gartner was a tiny little thing, not even 80 pounds soaking wet, but her obviously older sister was pretty hefty. Pleased to meet you, welcome to New York, George shook the elderly woman's plump hand. Nice to meet you, Bertha replied, with an undercurrent of reservation that both men detected.

Sorry boys, but I've been busy with the company...I don't have any muffins today, I'll bring you twice as many tomorrow, I promise! The kind old woman usually brought them muffins two or three times a week. She had been coming into the store for her morning paper for over ten years. I'm gonna show Bertha around... She announced as she grabbed her sister by the arm and started walking down the aisles of books.

Steve and George smiled at each other. Mrs. Gartner's boisterous attitude was a almost a morning ritual. They welcomed the diversion from the distressing thoughts they'd been having most of the morning. Then things got more diverting still...

Bertha!, Mrs. Gartner exclaimed in a sort of a whisper at the other end of the store. Why did you have to be so rude? They're nice boys...

And I told you, I don't care! Bertha broke in. It's wrong, and that's that! And you never told me one of them was black! That's even worse!

Bertha Marie Goldman! Mrs. Gartner said a little more loudly, You having a problem with those boys being in love is one thing, but I won't tolerate any racism! You take back what you said right now!

George grinned at Steve. Steve tried not to giggle. The women had no idea that both men could hear them clear as day. So, Mrs. Gartner thinks we're gay, Steve thought. That was hilarious.

You shut your mouth, Annie! I'm not being racist! You know what I mean. Blacks and whites shouldn't be together any more than two men should. If you wanna be friends with people like that, that's your business, as for me... The two women went back and forth, huffing at each other.

Steve, still smiling, reached over the cigarette rack to turn on the TV, figuring he'd give the women an enhanced sense of privacy. George was on the verge of cracking up at the things they were saying. They'd managed to completely forget about their concerns as they listened to the prattle.

The TV news announcer's first sentence brought the grim reality crashing back, however:

...this brings the total to 29, all of them in the last few hours. The Police are advising all citizens to avoid going out, unless absolutely necessary. Additional patrols have been dispatched, and...excuse me... George and Steve's faces grew identical expressions of horror as the news continued. A hand had just reached in from off-camera and handed the anchor a paper. His look of professional detachment wavered a bit as he read the dispatch. As he looked up his demeanor had recovered but he couldn't hide the additional paleness.

I've just been handed an update...the total number of missing persons reported has jumped to 53. I... The anchor was speechless. The camera lingered on his confused face for a moment, then suddenly burst into song with a soft drink commercial.

Steve and George looked at one another, no longer hearing the elderly sisters gay debate.

Dear God... George breathed. Steve just stared. In the back of his mind, he should have expected this, but now that it was happening...

Steve's distracted gaze shot immediately out the front windows. Walking as quickly as he dared, he strode to the storefront. George joined him. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, one of them he supposed. But what would he, or could he do if he actually saw one.

The sister's had fallen silent, and now Mrs. Gartner walked up to the big window as well.

Something wrong, boys? she asked in an uncharacteristically shy voice.

Steve had almost forgotten they were still in the store. He responded absentmindedly: Um...the news says there's a bunch of missing people reports coming in. They're telling people not to go out unless they have to...

He didn't see the sister's look at each other nervously. Well, maybe we best be getting along then... Mrs. Gartner's pronouncement brought Steve out of his distracted thought in a hurry. His head darted to look down at the women, just now remembering they were there. Something in his expression alarmed the women, and Bertha took a nervous step back.

I'll walk you and your sister home, George stated flatly, as he walked around Steve and closer to the women. Bertha Goldman's expression switched immediately from apprehension to distaste.

That won't be necessary Mr. George, we can manage on our own, she announced primly, and tugged her sister along as she headed for the exit. Mrs. Gartner looked uncertainly at her sister then back to Steve. She started to say something, but her sister had her through the door before she could get it out.

George started to follow after, but Steve reached out and held him back. They looked at each other briefly, then George nodded in resignation and understanding. Besides, Steve said a little too hopefully, they're elderly women, what are the chances?

That just made George angry. "It's her sister's fault, that Bertha! he exclaimed. She can say she's not racist all she wants, George fumed, but if anything happens to Mrs. Gartner..."

George suddenly glared at Steve: "We can't just sit here, we've gotta do something!..."

Steve's reply was sad and final. Do what? The question contained the answer- there was nothing they could do.

Nothing we can do... Steve said out loud as he looked at his friend. Even as he spoke the words, he regretted them. He looked at his friend and saw the pain as George remembered.

George, I'm so sorry... He began. George smiled; it was artificially brave. He tried to laugh it off, but not very successfully.

Please...it's okay to slip up every few hundred years or so.

George... Steve began.

Really, it' okay. Look, I'm gonna go see if I can't figure out what's wrong with that sink in the bathroom- let me know if you need any help. Steve wanted to say more, but he had no idea what more he might say, so he just stood and watched as George went to the back.

George, for his part, knew his exit wasn't very graceful, but it was the best he could do. He sat down on some boxes of books, his eyes wide, breath even. There were no tears. He was past that; had been for centuries.

But the memories remained.

Chapter 4

Georgia, 1891

The 40-something