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She stood on the rooftop overlooking what used to be her city. In an earlier time, she ruled the night and her name was whispered by a thousand voices in fear. Now, no one knew her name or spoke of her. For all she knew she was the last of her kind, it had been years since she had felt another's presence. Often of late she had thought about waiting and greeting the morning sun, feel it burn her face and body as it consumed her. A single blood tear rolled down her pale cheek as she thought back on all her kin as they fell one by one. Even Rog, her companion, could not stand up to the change and fell. As the sky lightened to the east she spoke to the coming sun, "Perhaps tomorrow old friend," before heading inside and down to her vault.
Cyn laid down in her bed thinking back to when it had all started. If she had known, then what she knows now she would have done things differently. But, that is the way hindsight always is, show you the path after it is too late. They had come like army ants, the protectors she liked to call them. Hunters she could deal with. The silly humans who thought all it took was a crossbow to drop her were no match for one of her age. But the protectors, they were a different story. Like a bad dream the memory unfolded to the night she and Rog had tangled with a protector.
Rog was handsome, strong, and forever cocky. Like a breath of fresh air he had swept her off her feet and showed her the joys of the night. It was nice to let someone else take the lead, and Rog was just the man to do it.
Cyn rolled over clutching her pillow, staining the silk as she cried, "Oh Rog how I miss you so." Even as the sun came up she could not sleep till the memory played out.
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They had worked out a plan of attack. Rog would drop down in front of the victim and when dinner turned to flee he would find Cyn waiting with open arms. Then, the pair would feed at once, her from the front and Rog from the rear, each biting opposite sides of the neck and drinking their fill.
The night was no different then other nights, or so it seemed. Their dinner, a large burly man made his way down the sidewalk alone. As planed, Cyn moved into position behind him while Rog moved out front. Like clockwork Rog popped up and surprised the man causing him to turn towards her. She spread her arms, red satin lining of her cape flashing, waiting to capture him in a kiss of death. Before Cyn could wrap her arms around him she felt someone grab her from behind and fling her off to the side. She flew across the street and against the brick building with such force that the mortar rained down on her like dust. Shaking her head to clear the dust and hair from her eyes, she looked on as dinner ran past another person standing there.
Rog skidded to a stop, looked to see if she was ok, and turned launching himself at the figure with a scream of rage. It seemed to Cyn that time slowed down. She saw him reach the figure and in turn be swung around and thrown against a car with such force that it shifted several feet, the alarm sounding shrill to her ears. She felt the blood rage take her and launched herself at this new threat. Instead of her forcing it to the ground, the figure, a woman, only shifted a step back. Clawing she stripped the skin from woman's face reveling steel below instead of the bone she expected. Again she found herself flying backwards, slamming into a metal light pole, and it's fall trapping her.
As she lay there dazed Cyn saw Rog again launch himself at this creature of metal and be stopped in his tracks. To her horror she watched as the woman, held him at arms length as he clawed at her, and plucked his arms off as if her were a flower. His screams shattered nearby windows as his arms hit the pavement and disappeared into a pile of gray dust. Then the woman plucked his head off and dropped the two pieces watching calmly as they too changed into dust. Just before he died Cyn made eye contact with Rog, the look of pain in his eyes burned themselves into her memory.
By the time she freed herself from the pole pinning her to the ground the woman had turned and was striding towards her. Instead of fighting Cyn ran for her unlife. Others needed to be warned of this new threat and she was not yet ready to die. She had only made it a few feet when she was stopped. The woman had a hold of her cape and was reeling her in. Frantic, Cyn released the tie holding it to her neck and ran like the sun it's self was chasing her. Only by taking to the rooftops did she finally loose her metal pursuer.
She went to the taverns to spread the word and to her clan warning them. But none would believe her. In their place she would not have believed her ether. "A machine as fast and as strong as vampires? Never happen," she would have said. Everyone, it seemed, believed that she and Rog had a fight and he had left her for parts unknown. It was not until several others had disappeared and one tavern decimated that vampires started to listen to Cyn. But by then it was too late. In the space of 6 months the protectors, as Cyn thought of them, had destroyed everyone she knew and loved.
In the end she was alone, a stranger in her own city. She had sunk so low as to drink the blood from animals. Whenever she approached a human one of the protectors would move and stand before her, stopping her. Why they did not kill her she did not understand. Even though she went to the stockyards and drank from cows the blood was not quite right and did not fulfill her needs. Though they would not stop her, she knew they were watching her.
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When Cyn woke she felt the all too familiar hunger gnawing at her mind. She had not had human blood in a long time and was sluggish, her guard down, and did not at first realize she had a visitor in her vault until she heard the voice.
"Hello Cynthia," a woman's voice light and musical.
Rolling out of bed Cyn crouched on all fours looking towards the voice. It was one of the protectors between her and the door. For a moment she considered, run or fight. Her decision made, she stood and walked over to a coat rack and grabbed her red silk robe. As she wrapped it around herself she said without turning, "Hello..." Lighting a candle she said without looking towards the door, "So this is how it ends."
"You may call me Guinevere. We have studied you Cynthia and found you to be different from the others of your race. It is because of this difference that I am here."
Cyn looked at the woman fully, she looked frail and harmless. But Cyn knew better, beneath that exterior was something cold and hard. "Call me Cyn. The last person to use Cynthia was..." her voice trailed off.
