Evaneé

Prologue

It was heavily snowing outside, yet the sun still shone through the ghostly clouds. Such dimness spread throughout the land, like a filter on the bleak world. The light, delicate snowflakes that fell from the sky were so fragile, that even one touch would cause them to disappear and leave barely any trace upon the world. Everything felt and looked so shamelessly dull, although it was supposed to look beautiful. I suppose it did, to me, at one point.

I was four years old, and my parents let me discover the wonders of the world by first introducing me to snow... and if only I had gotten farther than that.

They took me by the hands, a parent on each side of my stick-thin arms, interlacing in between each of my petite fingers. All was happy, all was warm. But there's something about all living creatures that I can't understand to this day: why we crave what we cannot possess. For instance, right then and there, I did not want the safe, protecting nature of my parents; I wanted the cold.

I let go of their hands, and cast my way through the snow and trees, snowflakes falling on my soft nose and the cold brushing through my hair. I turned around to see my parents, who were slowly fading away behind me, inch by inch, allowing me to slip through their reach. I ran further, playing with the wind and galloping through snow filled pines, hiding deeper into the woods.

I saw little animals, such as white forest weasels, or a few deer. The sun was hidden beneath a sky of grey, shadows did not cast over me like they usually would.

That's why I didn't see his shadow coming.

I don't even know if this person had a shadow. For he was no regular person, but a monster.

A monster. Not like the ones that hid under my bed, not like the ones that were told of in stories made to frighten each other. A monster that was real, disliked, outlawed, an outsider.

For him to coexist beside me was a true horror; and for his hand to meet my shoulder was only so overwhelming that it almost felt unreal.

I came to a halt, my boots digging into the ground and snow flying like dust into my eyes. I turned around, to see a stranger, who looked human like me, except older, with much more masculine features. Tawny eyes, short and wispy black hair, a triangular nose, and a long face. His body lurked over me, similar to the trees in the forest that surrounded us. I remember his long limbs, his muscular appearance. The stranger opened his mouth in awe to me, then grinned. His eyes were piercing into my tiny body. My heart started to beat faster.

"Why, little one, you should not be out in the cold all by yourself." He told me. Although it did not sound like he cared for my safety. The tone in his voice was shrill and rapt. The creature seemed to study me constantly, searching for my weaknesses, arousing my fear.

About to steadily object and acknowledge that my mother and father were also there, I held my tongue, as that would not have done me any good. Although I was nervous, I contemplated my thoughts and took my time. I still can remember what I said back to him. Because what I said possibly changed my life, what my life was going to be.

"I like the cold." I said, enthusiastically to this stranger. My answer came through to his ears and I could tell he was instantly thrilled, excitement flaring up in his eyes.

"Why, if you like the cold--" It was no mistake of mine to realize that his eyes turned a bright crimson, the secondary color of blood. "--How would you like to stay that way, forever?"

I could feel his icy fingers grip onto my back, holding me down and eventually pinning me to the ground. I felt so weakened in comparison to his massive strength, hovering over me, like a magnet.

I wanted to scream, for my mother, my father, to come and rescue me. But my lungs were tensed up and frigid, the only noise I could make were sounds of faint whining, urging my attacker to get off of me. My breath fell out with the movement of my chest collapsing, coming back in and rising, faster and faster with each time.

The monster removed his hand from the snow and used his quaint and gentle fingers to move my hair away from my neck. His eyes, wondering my pretty, luxurious neck. Of course, it was not that he was looking at, to be exact-- no, it was the veins inside.

He was looking for the blood that coursed through me.

He opened his mouth, and I saw something new to his appearance--

Ivory, white, fangs.

I have to recall that they were perfect. So lovely and refined. I could almost see my reflection in them.

I can only imagine what they look like when they're stained.

I watched as he bowed deeper toward my flesh, hungering for my life. As soon as he got so close as to killing me, eternally damning me, he did something that was very unexpected.

He stopped.

Right when I could feel the point of his teeth upon my neck, the teeth that were not ripping into me, but were rather sitting there, like pointed pearls poised in a clamshell.

I dared to turn my glance to the side, and all I was able to see was one of his eyes. The eye that had once threatened me had lost all of its threat, only in a moment. They were no longer crimson red, but all sorts of colors.

Red, yellow, blue, green, purple,

White.

All in one instant.

It was extravagant. Like fireworks at a festival, only it was his very soul that lit up that part of him. I could just tell.

He drew back from me, letting me up off of the ground, and staring into space, like he'd just seen a ghost. Then his eyes met mine again, the color they had been when I'd first met him. Tawny, dreamy.

The man kneeled down, locking his eyes with mine still. I didn't know what to do, or what to say. He understood something I didn't. Why hadn't he killed me?

"Evanée!" I heard my father.

"Get away from that man!" I heard my mother. They were both running toward me and the man, trying to save me.

I didn't listen. I sat there still, petrified from horror and fascination.

The person smiled, flashing his teeth at me, and no sign of fangs seemed to exist. He leaned closer to me, and I could feel his breath on my ear as he whispered, "Be a good girl, Princess. I'll be back for you."

He stood up and turned around, suddenly beginning a transformation; his legs, neck and head curled up and shrank, his back arching and the tiniest hairs forming all over his body, arms growing bonier and small flaps forming from his wrist to his waist. He had changed himself into a bat.

A vampire bat.

The man who almost killed me was a vampire.

Rather than drinking the information I'd received as he flew away, or hugging my parents back as they scooped me into their arms and trudged through the frozen hills, I tried to take in the scariest thing. What he said before he left.

He'd be back for me.

Whether I wanted it or not.

The very last thing I remember is the feeling of being held while my mother trotted through the snow in urgent need to get back home, safe and sound, away from all the madness in the world.

And that's where I stayed put.