CONCERN

I can hear them close behind me. They're gaining on me. They know I'm not part of their coven. I am in an extremely precarious situation. I don't know what they are capable of. Hell, even they don't even know what they are capable of! They are newborns: thirsty, reckless and completely unpredictable. One of them is terrified; the girl. She wants the boy to stop, doesn't want to pursue me. I have a 'gift', as my mother called it. Even when I was human I could sort of sense what other people were feeling. I was told that there were others like me, not that that matters now.

No. That is not the mentality I should be withholding. I am determined to beat these two. What do they know? I am two years old. These couple of newbies can only be a few months. Mind you, the boy looks pretty confident for such a young vampire. Ok, I have to make a decision. Do I stop and fight them, or do we keep this charade up and run forever? They could probably catch up to me. New-borns tend to be faster than older vampires.

I whip around and maintain a fighting stance. The newborns screech to a halt. The girl's fear builds as she looks me up and down. The boy too is sizing me up. He feels slight anxiety, but not nearly as much as the girl. Her terror radiates off of her in waves. Even someone without the 'gift' can see how scared she is.

"What do you want?" I ask. The boy reaches out an arm and pulls the girl behind him. His protectiveness is sweet, if not a little unnecessary. If they are not here to harm me, then I am not here to harm them.

"Who are you?" the boy replies. His eyes are wide, full of adrenaline and glowing red. I feel something else from him, something very few people feel during their lives as vampires. I feel compassion. This boy does not want to attack, he simply wants to protect. He wants to protect her.

I smile at his naivety. There is no room for compassion and love in the vampire world. It is every person for themselves. If only I wasn't so hypocritical. My sole purpose for being in Seattle is to feel that warmness of love again. Ever since I turned, all I have known is bitter coldness. I don't want that for myself anymore.

"I'm Bree." Her voice startles me. "We don't want to fight. We only want to know why you are here." Her pale face appears next to the boy's shoulder. Bree's eyes gleam in the moonlight. She steps out from behind the boy. She is slim and not much taller than I am; maybe 5"3. We are not so different after all.

"Maia," I say. "My name is Maia."

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