A Heart For The Heartless

In the streets of New Avenue, a man was running through the crowd of people on a snowy day with no sunlight, his face a mask of worry and panic. He pushed through numerous bodies at a rapid pace, seeming like he was rushing towards something important.

Or perhaps even running away from someone.

His body was soaked with cold sweat, and his hands were trembling so badly despite how hard he was clenching them into fists. He shook his head vehemently as though trying to shake off his anxiety and continued to run as fast as he could, bumping into several people along the way.

'I found it. I found it!' he thought to himself frantically, quickly shoving away a man who was blocking his path. 'I found it, Josie. We can expose them now. We have the evidence we need. We can go to the Ivanovs and tell them the truth. Tomorrow is—'

Suddenly, the man bumped into someone while he was running. He tried to push his way through, but the person surprisingly wouldn't budge.

When he looked up, he saw a woman. She was beautiful, with long blonde hair that fell in waves below her shoulders, and clear, lime-green eyes that seemed to pierce right through him.

For some reason, her eyes gave him a sudden sense of unease.

He stiffened immediately. Could it be, that she was…?

No, it couldn't be. He couldn't sense anything unusual about her…

Pursing his lips, the man narrowed his eyes at her, as though trying to intimidate her with his gaze. "Please get out of my way. I have somewhere urgent to go to," he said icily.

The woman, however, remained unfazed. She just stood there, staring at him, with those piercing green eyes that seemed to probe into his soul.

The man was growing anxious by the minute. He tried to sideline her, but to his surprise, she blocked his way.

"Excuse me," she said, and her voice was surprisingly soft and gentle, flowing like honey. "Would you please guide me to the Town Square? I am a foreigner to this country, and I'm afraid I've gotten a little lost around here."

The man gritted his teeth. "I'm sorry, but I have urgent business to attend to. I apologize again, young lady, but you have to ask someone else for help."

He walked past her briskly.

However, just a few seconds later, her voice, still sticky and sweet, drifted into his ears again.

"Where do you think you're going, Mr. Lambert?"

The man's blood instantly turned into ice.

How did she know his—?!

Suddenly, he felt hands grip each side of his head from behind. No matter how much he tried to get away, those hands kept him firmly in place, with a surprisingly strong grip. Panic immediately filled the man's heart, and his mind started racing.

Vampire.

She was a vampire.

The man's mouth opened to let out a shrill scream.

'Wait. No, not a vampire.'

'A halfblo—!'

However, the scream never went past his lips.

The hands moved swiftly, and in just one quick, strong motion, the man felt his neck break.

When darkness fell, that was the last thing he ever saw again.

Meanwhile, in the middle of the streets on this cloudy, snowy day, Lambert's head was rolling across the ground, his headless body spilling blood on the snow-covered ground.

***

"It happened again, my lord."

Mikhail Ivanov lifted his head from the newspaper he was reading, raising an eyebrow at the man who had just spoken.

"There's been another human killing," the man said solemnly. "This time, it was one of the Guards who did it."

"How many humans have died these past few months from a vampire attack on our side?"

"Exactly 16 of them, sire."

Mikhail fell silent, but his expression remained stony, expressionless. He leaned back against his seat, folding his arms across his chest.

"Erik," he suddenly said.

"Yes, my lord?" the man, Erik, responded.

"You still think you aren't responsible for this?"

Erik was stunned for a moment. "Sire, that's impossible. I've been training those vampires myself for months. A thorough background check was—"

"New members are the most likely to betray a company, Erik. Don't tell me you are too naive to admit that?" Mikhail arched an elegant eyebrow at him. "Your last chance has been used up. Question them. If they refuse to confess, then eliminate them."

Erik looked alarmed. "Sire! They're—"

"I have been gracious enough to give your trainees the benefit of the doubt, but I'm afraid my generous side ends here today." Mikhail's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Interrogate them and give me satisfactory information, or I will kill them myself. Including you."

At that moment, the limousine stopped at a familiar street.

New Avenue.

Mikhail waited until the chauffeur opened the door for him, and then he exited the car gracefully.

Erik remained in his seat, frozen in place.

Two vampires — rather, Mikhail's two personal Guards, Josef and Sarim — went to his sides, escorting Mikhail towards their destination.

"I don't trust him," Josef remarked. He was a big, burly man with silver-white hair and small green eyes. He was dressed in black, formal clothing alongside his partner, Sarim.

Sarim, on the other hand, was a slim man that resembled a snake in appearance. He had dark-gray hair that was cleanly combed to the side, and yellow, predatory eyes that seemed to shine brightly in the darkness.

Mikhail, on the other hand, was silent.

The three of them strode through the night, not fearing anybody, and not caring about how conspicuous or inconspicuous they might seem.

There was no one in the city of Azallea that didn't know Mikhail Ivanov's name. Rather, no one in the entire country of Dekraine dared to go against him.

After all, Mikhail Ivanov was one of the three most powerful vampires in the world, known as the Elites.

He had bright silver hair that had streaks of black and was slightly tousled, giving him a bit of a younger appearance. His eyes were a clear shade of red, a testament to his power. Normal vampires had different eye colors, but whenever they used their powers, their eyes would turn red.

The elite vampires were a different story. From the moment they unlocked the full extent of their powers, their eyes would turn permanently red.

Although Mikhail hadn't been a vampire for that long compared to the Ancients, he was one of the most feared vampires in the world. He was turned at age 28, and since then, his youthful appearance stayed the same for a hundred more years.

It was rumored among the people that he had volunteered to be turned, and that the vampire who turned him was his long-time lover. There was also a rumor that he had been forcibly turned and now held a grudge against the world, especially those whom he didn't trust.

Mikhail was prominently known for his ruthless streak when it came to dealing with the supernaturals. He would eliminate those who failed orders or disobeyed him in cruel or gruesome ways. He was also notorious for not caring about the human race and their problems or issues, only treating them as sources of blood whenever he needed them.

He did his job of protecting the humans from other vampires and supernaturals, but that was all.

Some admired him for his cruelty and power. Some were disgusted at his way of doing things.

Some also said that he was completely heartless.

A vampire did not have a heart, but their race wasn't all black and white. Some vampires retained their humanity, even just bits of it, but some completely lost it.

Like Mikhail Ivanov.

With the number of rogue vampires increasing each month, both the Human and Supernatural Councils were on edge. The humans were terrified about the recent killings while more and more vampires were being resented and hunted down. The Vampire Hunters Association was also starting to make its move by taking over the protection of the entire city.

The city was currently in chaos, and everyone was filled with distrust.

"Have you gotten in contact with Sye?" Mikhail asked quietly.

Josef shook his head. "We have been trying to contact her for days now. It's like she's gone off the grid."

"It's either she betrayed us, or she has been burned to a crisp," Sarim remarked.

Josef frowned. "I doubt someone as strong as Sye would be beaten that easily. She would not betray us like that, either."

"Sye is a walking time bomb," Sarim said calmly. "She is unpredictable, and—"

"Wait."

Josef and Sarim stopped in their tracks at Mikhail's command. Suddenly, Mikhail's eyes narrowed, and he looked at his surroundings with careful inspection. His red eyes shone brightly for a brief moment in the darkness.

"Do you smell that?" Mikhail asked.

"Smell what?" Josef closed his eyes and sniffed the air. "I smell alcohol and perfume. Nothing else."

"I cannot smell anything else as well," Sarim said.

It wasn't snowing currently, and the winter season was starting to end. Some parts of the ground were covered with snow, and the temperature was below normal levels.

It was a good thing that vampires couldn't feel the heat or the cold.

But there was something different hanging in the air. Something thick and familiar.

Mikhail sent them both a glance. "You two cannot smell the blood?"