Night Caller Part 1

The desert was a vast and lonely place at noon. She knew that all of the royals were currently in a meeting about her. They were trying to decide her fate as a wife to some royal from a distant land. Gazing out of the ornately carved window, Jazlyn looked down at the people she would one day govern.
She stepped onto the balcony. Walking to the railing she had an amazing view of nothing. Just the vast and empty sands of the desert. They were currently in the middle of building the pyramids that would serve as tombs for both the royal family and the peasants.
Looking down, she noticed an oddly dressed peasant. Instead of the beige dress robes the peasants usually wore, he was wearing black. She studied him for a moment, until he passed from her line of sight. Intrigued by this oddly dressed man, she slipped into the common clothing she had stolen from a few of her servants and exited through a secret passageway she had had privately installed by a few well paid slaves.
As Jazlyn exited the door she had made the slaves mark ‘Forbidden’, she saw the dark man turn a corner. Keeping always a few steps behind him, she followed him through the winding twists and turns at the heart of the commonplace. She did manage to note a few items she would want one of her more loyal slaves to fetch for her. It would look too odd if she asked the normal slaves to get them.
It did not take very long for her to arrive at the location he had been heading for. He turned into a small shop. She didn’t recognize him, although that was not uncommon. The way these shops came and went, it was hard to know everyone by sight, let alone name.
Jazlyn snared quite a few gazes from the common people. They had given her the name, ‘Peasant of Beauty’, for none of them knew her true name. She walked through the doorway of the shop. Unlike most of these places, this one had a woman for a master and the young man was the apprentice.
She began looking at the odd objects she saw gleaming upon many tables and racks. The weapons she saw were unlike any others her Egypt had ever seen. Most of her slaves would probably never want to see them anyway. Jazlyn studied all of the weapons. The blades gleamed sinisterly, and the whips looked much less friendly than a desert snake that had missed a few meals.
She picked up one on the whips. It was braided silver, with one strand of gold weaved throughout it. She looked at the twin barbs at the end of the whip. They each had shards of metal embedded into them. This whip was specially designed to tear into the flesh of disobediant slaves.
Jazlyn saw the young apprentice standing in the doorway. She looked up at the master of the shop. “May I?” She inquired.
The master looked at her and nodded. Jazlyn turned and caught the mans eye as she cracked the whip harshly against the floor. When the young man failed to flinch, she raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Are you not afraid boy?”
He looked at her coldly. “No, I could never fear such beauty, no matter how dangerous the weapon she holds.”
Jazlyn prayed that her skills with a whip had not withered away in the time she had not practiced. Without warning she craked the whip expertly over her head and then let it snake around the young mans neck. The twin barbs lay at the collar of the dark shirt he wore.
As she unwound the whip from the young mans neck, she said, “Beauty is a cold thing. Fear it.” She turned to the master. “How much?”
The master looked at her, a smile playing at her lips. She too wore odd clothing. “Royalty never pays here. Take it.”
Dumbfounded, Jazlyn nodded once. Angry that these odd peasants had seen through her disguise, she walked toward the doorway. The young man stepped aside to let her pass. He watched her as she shouldered her way through the marketplace, not caring who she tripped or what their business was.
Succumbing to curiosity, he followed her through the dusty streets ot the marketplace. He didn’t bother keeping a great distance, she was too preoccupied with herself to notice anything else. He followed her until she came to a door marked ‘Forbidden’. This would usually deter anyone, but she walked right up to the door and entered it, shutting it behind her.He smiled.

Jagger was restlessly pacing his room when Syane came in. She watched him for a few moments, so absorbed in his own thoughts that he didn’t notice her immediately. When he did, had instantly assumed a position of defense.
Syane smiled. Jagger relaxed himself enough to continue pacing. “If you want her that badly, you know what you have to do.”
Jagger looked at her with annoyance. The fact that she could read his mind irritated him still, even after all these years. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do that.” He replied crossly.
“Jagger, it has been centuries, and you still have yet to change someone.”
“I know.” He snapped, walking toward his collection of weapons. He chose his favorite knife from the immense rack of them.
Crafted centuries ago by one of the first shape-shifters, its blade could kill even a vampire. Careful not to touch the sharp edge, Jagger grabbed the knife by the point and threw it at the wall. It landed dead center, exactly as he had expected it to.
Syane did not take her eyes off of her fledgling to see if he had hit his mark. She simply followed his movements across the room. “You know what you have to do.” She said simply.
Finally losing his patience, Jagger replied curtly, “I’m going for a walk.” as he began to disappear.
Syane smiled as she said, “Wouldn’t going for a walk imply that you were actually walking?”
As if on cue, Jaggers laughter resounded in her mind. “You know me so well Syane.”
As his voice faded away, Syane turned her mind toward more pressing matters.

Walking along the empty street of the marketplace, Jagger sought his next meal. It did not take him long to find it. He soon came upon the man who had offended his blood mother. He took threats to Syane seriously, and his anger could use a good outlet. Coming up behind him, Jagger grabbed the man by his throat. Not bothering to ease the pain of having his blood drawn through his veins, Jagger fed from the man.
He sank his fangs into the mans neck as roughly as he could. Normally he would send the person he fed off of to a distant place in their own mind where they would not feel the pain of dying. The man started to cry out, but Jagger quickly silenced him.
Suddenly Jagger felt a presence behind him. Tossing the dead man away, he turned, only to realize he stood face to face with the royal he had encountered earlier. She held the whip he had delicately forged in her right hand. Eyes wide, she stared, bewildered and disgusted. He didn’t know what overpowered him then, but he had the darkest desire to change her. To make her forever his.
He called out to her mind, willing her forward. She obliged, she was helpless to do otherwise. She never cried out, only when he bit into her neck did she come alive, a spark shocking her into action. She fought him, fought him with everything she had, but as the life was drained away, she became too weak.
Pulling away, Jagger raised his wrist to his lips and tore the flesh from his veins. Placing it against her lips, he tried to force her to drink the blood that poured forth. Thrashing wildly, she refused. Anger settled into him and he held her head still with his free arm. He placed his wrist once more to her lips, and she had no choice but to comply.
She passed out. Jagger looked down at her. Watching her stop breathing was odd, hearing her heart stop beating even more so. She was still alive though. If you could call what she had become alive…

Jazlyn restlessly paced the confines of her room. She had spent all day daydreaming. At dinner that night, she could barely keep her mind on the royal she was supposed to be sucking up to, to put it simply. Her parents wanted the riches he had, as well as all of the land he held in his possesion.
Jazlyn didn’t much care about any of it anyway. So as night began to fall over her homeland, she once again started down the secret passageway to the deserted marketplace.
Excitement grew within her. She hadn’t felt like this in years, sneaking out to see a man she didn’t even know. As her excitement grew, she began to run down the stairway, hoping that her royal robes would not be the death of her. She burst through the door marked ‘Forbidden’, and came to an immediate halt in the street.
There stood the apprentice, a man in his grasp. As she watched, the apprentice seemed to kiss the mans neck, but as her vision adjusted to the lack of light, she realized that this was no ordinary kiss, it was a kiss of death.
As if sensing her mere presence, the young apprentice turned around. He looked at her intently, and as he did, she felt compelled to move forward. Into the arms of death itself. She felt the touch of his mind upon hers, an eerie feeling at best. The whip she had absent mindedly carried with her hung limply from her hand.
Jazlyn no longer cared. The simple task of existing had ceased to become a necessity. She simply was. As his fangs broke her skin however, she began to thrash wildly, knowing that to give up now meant certain death. As he drew the life from her veins, she grew steadily weaker. Unable to fight any longer, she collapsed.
Held up only by the young apprentice, she watched him tear his own flesh from his wrist through a fog of uncertainty. Jazlyn felt him place the torn wrist to her lips, and almost accepted what he had to offer. Her wit returning, she struggled, only succeeding in having him pin her to the dusty road of the commonplace.
Then all she felt were the black curtains of life closing around her. It seemed that her life as she knew it had ended. How she longed to be back in the palace with that retched royal…