John Smith

[i]How simple the world was. The air smelled of pine, the nearby stream could be heard trickling down the mountain rocks, and the feel of her arms wrapped around him filled him with warmth. Happiness he had known so many times washed over him once again as he looked into her blue eyes. The world was once again forever young, and nothing could ruin it.

Crawling from his soft lambskin bed, he stood up, looking outside over the flat grasslands. The sun was peaking over the horizon, reflecting off the golden waves of wheat that looked so like the color of his wife's golden locks. Looking back, he saw her stir, staring at him with her beautiful hazel orbs. They filled his vision as he walked back to her, taking her small hand in his, the feel of her soft hands between his a comfort to him as always.

Helping her up, they walked outside together, looking over the small farm they had worked so hard to make together. The acres of grapes they worked so hard to cultivate, to make the finest wine in all of Greece. Wrapping his arms around his lovers broad shoulders, he pulled the hairy mouth to his own, pulling away to stare at the green eyes of the most handsome man he'd ever known. Their life together was so perfect.

Turning to the wind, he smelled something from off in the distance. "No," he thought, running to the back fields, "Not again. This can't be happening again!" The sounds echoed over the empty sands, the loud horns so familiar to him as the neighing of horses followed. His wife came running after, he long, straight black hair flying behind her, her brown eyes filled with terror at the sight of the fire blazing at the edge of the forest, visible from even this far.

"No!" He yelled, rushing to her, his beautiful wife, her red hair reminding him of the blaze behind him, threatening to destroy the flock of geese they had spent so many years raising deep in the amazon. Wrapping his thick arms around her dark shoulders, he held her tight, running his broad hands over her pearly white skin. "I can't... not again..."[/i]

Coming awake, he stared at the ceiling overhead. Shaking off his dreams, he rolled out of his plush sheets, reaching for a nearby diary. Opening the pages, he first checked the last message he had wrote, finding first the date. The eighteenth century, yes, that was right. The old, leather-bound diary had been his for longer than he could remember, containing all of his most intimate secrets. He did not fear another reading those secrets, no one alive could read the language he wrote them in. The written form was known only by the nobility of the civilization that founded it, a society dead for over a thousand years.

Behind him, the door opened, revealing what looked to be a young woman, no older than her early twenties, as she walked in carrying a tray of what he knew to be very black coffee. Though it could never truly compare, it was the closest thing he'd ever found to the original plant he'd found growing deep within the African jungles. He could smell the strong brew from across the room, the scent bringing to mind so many fleeting images, memories long since forgotten, ghosts from a distant past that would never completely fade.

[i]"Thank you, Mina. You can leave it on the table."[/i] Looking back over his shoulder, he saw the young blond standing there, waiting. Sighing heavily, he closed his eyes, rubbing his still tired lids. Looking once more, he raised an eyebrow, not really surprised to see her still waiting for a command. "You can leave it on the table." Standing up, he walked over to his wardrobe, pulling open the heavy oak doors and reaching in for a robe to hide his nude form. He had never been able to sleep in clothes, though he had long forgotten where the habit had originated.

"Greek this time, master?" The young vampire was always curious, constantly asking questions about her master's strange ticks. She was well over a hundred years old, but in many ways, she was still the child she appeared to be. Always so quick to over step her bounds, just to have her curiosity satisfied. And being around one of the few beings alive old enough to actually see her as a child was only making it worse.

"Roman, actually. A dialect of it, anyway, if I'm not mistaken. And before you ask, no, I won't teach you. Ten dead languages is more than enough for anyone." Walking over to the waist-high table, he took the ancient marble cup from the solid brass tray it sat upon. The symbols on the cup depicted a battle between mighty Hercules, and the beastly hydra, while the tray shown engravings of an eastern dragon, its serpentine body flying over a calm mountain lake. Next to the tray lay the days reports, which Mina had layed down with the tray.

Once again, he rubbed his eyes, this time not from exhaustion, but because of the reports he read. For the most part, things were progressing as normal. His slave trading business was outperforming all others, dominating the field thanks to his contracts with the vampire world. The world of business was still in shock from his faked death, hundreds rushing to fill the void they believed he left, sending assassins to kill his successors, moving in on the trade partners they believed would be left looking for a new partner, and of course trying to out maneuver what they thought to be the last of his orders.

As was expected, the assassins were dying to the lycans he left to run the company; his partners were staying true to his still thriving company; and his continued orders to his company kept it as successful as it ever was. Faking his death, as it had done countless times before, had allowed him to take advantage of his enemies within the business world, moving in on the mistakes they made because they thought him gone. As always, things were going according to plan, assuring that he remained the dominant force of trade he'd been for centuries.

No, the source of his troubles came from within the vampire community. Another of Leo's so-called 'super vampires' had been found dead. He had been seen eating the night before, and his body showed no signs of a struggle. The presence of a body confirmed it, he had died solely because of the experiments he had undergone at the hands of Leo. The counsel would be furious,

The man was a constant source of trouble. His experiments had lead to any number of successes, certainly, but his continued failures constantly fueled the decent his enemies on the counsel voiced. If the man did not represent so much to Uriel, personally, then he would have likely been made to stop long ago. The counsel supported his results, certainly, but many felt that the world was simply not advanced enough for his research to yield anything more than what it already had. Others claimed that what little he had accomplished was just luck, and that he was nothing more than a fool playing with forces beyond his control, tempting the fate of their species on his constant risks he took when injecting his experiments.

Uriel had taken a stance to support him. Moving his pawns, he had managed to convince or bribe everyone who had stood against him, with only the most die hard conservatives still fighting against the research. It was expensive, and required constant supervision, but the possibilities his success represented was simply too important to leave to fate. Once again, thanks to this instance, he would have to pay off his enemies, call on support form his allies, and make contracts he would spend centuries fulfilling to those few that he could convince to accept them, all to ensure their promise of favoring Leo's continued research during the vote that would certainly take place within the month.

The man was nothing but trouble, and worse, he believed he was the savior of the race, the chosen one who can do no wrong. His failures meant nothing, just the sacrifice that had to be made to reach his goals. Being in the same room with him was nearly intolerable, but for the sake of what he represented, he would suffer the annoyance. The entire situation was made worse by the fact that he had an appointment with the pompous ass that very night.

"Mina," he said, checking to be sure he was speaking English, "have the carriage brought around. I've got a lot to do today. And inform Vincent that I'll need him to prepare the guard. There's a good chance another strike will need to be prevented. It's about that time again. The moon will rise within the hour, so have him do it fast."