Last Leg Chapter 1 Despite Starrs passport not matching her appearance, the airport employees gave her

no problems. Her father, who was in the Air Force, got it for her when she was twelve, for when they were stationed in Germany. Now, at sixteen, shed changed a lot since then: her hair was straight waist length and blue black like the midnight sky, and she never went anywhere without black eyeliner and red lips. Her seat rattled as the person behind her put a tray in upright position. She couldnt stand the tight little seats and the cramped little space of the 737 aircraft. All she wanted was to land so she could stretch her legs; that and she was tired of smelling the toilet. Several hours later, she was awakened by a glare of light through the window, in front of her, that a passenger opened. The sun had risen and reflected off the icy clouds.

She smelled it, again, coming from a man in a black suit: a sweet scent that reminded her of a light sage. His dark eyes stayed forward, as though trying not to give away that he was onto her, but she knew he was. Normally, once a human was turned, they stopped putting off their pungent animal smells body odor - but they still secreted pheromones. Deeply, she inhaled the air, tasting the sage and trying to pick out the pheromones so as to determine if he was a threat to her. She was distracted by the pilots voice, coming over the intercom, letting them know they had already begun their descent toward the Sibiu Airport, in Transylvania, Romania. The mans scent filled the air at the news; he was just as happy, as she was, for the long trip to be over. She and the man, who continued to pretend he wasnt following her, made it through customs and baggage claim, though he didnt have any bags; he even followed her to the taxi line.

Was he really so stupid as to think she didnt notice? Oh well; she figured it was better to play nave, for the moment, anyway. She didnt want to get on the bad side of Louisa Credenza who was the reason for her flying to Romania. Unfortunately, she was hoping to make the trip in secret, so already being followed was real disappointment. Unde a face nevoie la spre energie? asked her cab driver. A trick of being a vampire was Starr seemed to have gained a, sort of, extra sensory perception to understand what people wanted of her, even if the language they spoke wasnt English. Unfortunately, her comprehension didnt always mean that she knew how to respond, which is why she spent many of the hours, mid-flight, studying basic Romanian phrases. A face pe plac lat, Marriott Hotel, she said slowly and awkwardly. When he asked which one, she merely looked into his eyes, in the rearview mirror, shrugged her shoulders and furrowed her eyebrows.

The man seemed to understand, for he said Nici o problema, and drove off. Starr hadnt much time to plan before shed left the city. It was a last minute decision that she should come and track down the headquarters of, what Louisa Credenza called, The Council. Repeatedly, she looked out the back window, trying to see if the man in the suit was there, in one of the cars, but she couldnt find him, nor smell him out of all the exhaust and crisp mountain air. Twenty minutes later, the cab driver parked in front of a hotel lobby in the center of Sibiu. If she were still human, her breath would have been taken away by the beautiful, old city. As she stepped out of the car, she turned around, looking at the exotic medieval structures. It was true, what they say: Transylvania appeared to be an excellently maintained medieval territory. The buildings were charming, though old, and, yet, somewhat garish, with the way patrons mended their old frames; rather than original restorations, the buildings were

painted with colors of white, yellow and pink; they simply didnt match their structures, she thought. She couldnt help but think they shouldnt have put drywall over the beautiful wooden churches, or over the old stone buildings. Looking south, she saw enormous, intimidating mountains with blankets of mist threatening to drop down on them. She wondered if they were the infamous Carpathian Mountains that bordered the Ukraine. Looking at them, she imagined wars upon wars, and blood and swords: people fighting and people dying, centuries ago. As she walked up the path, to the hotel, she tasted the air, but didnt smell or sense the man. At the counter, a lady in a blue suit with her hair in a tight bun asked, Cum pot ajutor tu? A room, please, Starr said, hoping she understood. Ogay, she said with a thick accent. It wasnt until the woman asked how shed be paying that Starr realized shed forgotten to visit the currency counter at the

airport, for she didnt have any credit cards, as she was only sixteen. No, she said, shaking her head. They ar-r-re expensive, the air-r-rport, she rolled each R short and harshly. The woman gave her directions to a spot down the street. Starr couldnt help but laugh at all the Dracula propaganda posted in shop windows and passed out in pamphlets on the street. They all said, Dracula lived here, Dracula ate here, and Come visit Draculas , something, or other. When she returned to the hotel, Starr was checked into a nice clean room, where she crashed on the bed and sighed, loudly. Traveling was exhausting and, though she loved seeing new places, she hoped to never have to leave the Unites States again. Inwardly, she told herself she just wanted to relax, after being cramped in a steel tube for nearly a day and a half, but that was completely changed when she looked out of her rooms window. Once again she was awed by centuries old beauty.

Across the sky, and along the base of the lower part of Sibiu, old houses were crammed next to each other in a long row. Up higher, she saw enormous solitary structures: castles, dark and foreboding, even in the light of day. Pressing her face into the window, she looked right and saw half a dozen castlelike structures; they had cylindrical shapes and conical pointed roofs. Anxious to see, up close, the old city, she put her stuff in the safe, grabbed her bag and walked down to the tourist counter where she booked her first tour. One thing that made her laugh was how all the brochures, behind the hotels counter, called all the castles, Draculas, whether he actually lived there or not. If he stopped in for the night, or only for a caf, they were place was his. She spent the day on the tour in the city of Sighisoara, one of Vlad IIIs real homes when his father, Vlad II, was in exile. Like Sibiu, the fortified city was nearly perfectly preserved, and even the more rotted parts of the city were beautiful and enchanting; even the brick roads reminded her of how old the place, she stood on, was. As she entered the infamous Clock Tower, which was built in the 13th century,

she felt truly overcome by the realization that the clock was a truly special piece of magnificence, and especially for the common people of the middle ages. By early evening, Starr returned to Sibiu where she wandered about for hours. The town was known for having two levels of division. For the earlier part of the evening, she walked the upper level which was a business district. There she felt compelled to touch all the walls; to her, touching them was like touching a persons essence, a person that lived centuries before. Except for the garish paint, and occasional dry wall, many of the towers were so excellently preserved that Starr could immediately see, in her mind, what life might have been like there: the Harquebusier, home to medieval infantry; the Carpenter Towers, fortified with a beautiful octagonal shape; Tanning Towers, and the Gunpowder Towers. People worked themselves to death, in those places. To think that, in a mild way, she was connected, being what she was, to the town was a thrilling thought. After all it was mythology that Vlad, himself, was the first vampire. The fact that an ethical tribe of

vampires, who called themselves The Council, ruled and resided there, made the rumor seem possible. She wondered if vampires were first born, there, in the Transylvanian territories? Was Vlad Tepes III really a vampire? What if she met Vlad the Impaler, and found he was a maniacal vampire? What would she do then? When she tired of the upper level, she moved along to the lower level which was comprised of mostly houses that were centuries old, too. The houses were all crammed together, making long neat rows of house after house, just like she saw from her hotel room. In her city, homes were crammed together, too, though, unlike her city, the long, crammed neighborhoods looked like they provided little privacy or space. The Romanian people stuck out, greatly, in contrast to their medieval surroundings. In fact, they seemed completely out of place, in their modern clothes, carrying their laptops and talking on cell phones. At the corner of a cobble stone street, she spotted a little pub. Tired of wandering around, she decided to stop.

Inside was just like most of the other houses and small buildings shed seen that day; although attached to enormous structures, the pub, itself, was small and dark like a cave. Inside, the dcor was simple looking with thick whittled wooden tables and chairs crammed together, hardly allowing of patron privacy. The crowd was mostly middle aged, though a few of them were fairly young, but their skin was ruined from years of drinking and smoking; a trend that seemed to start early in the towns of Transylvania. She walked up to the counter and ordered an Ursus: a beer from the top brewery in Romania. The myths would say that her kind could only drink blood, but it just wasnt true. In fact, Starr really enjoyed the light refreshing taste of the spiced ale, as she poured it over her tongue. It was at that moment she noticed the scent of sage, again, but she wasnt surprised. Eventually, she knew hed find her, again. She remained where she was, thoroughly surprised, and enjoying her corba de peste, fish soup which turned out to be very delicious.

Finally, the man must have realized she was onto him, for, instead of trying to blend in with the crowd, he sat right next to her. So I figured Id better just say hi, he said with a thick Romanian accent. Starr kept eating as if he didnt speak. Ar-r-rent you going to say something, he asked, rolling his R. Go away, she said icily, as she sipped more of her fish broth. Well, thats hardly nice, Madam, he said surprised. She took a sip of her cold brew. After a moment of silence, the man continued, You are just as shocking of tongue, as you are of presence: black hair, black eye liner, black leather. What is this? A chain ar-r-round your neck? Like an old character in a comic book, Starr liked to fashion a thick chain link around her neck, clasped off with a full sized metal lock; the key was in her pocket at all times. The man reached out to touch the chain. Dont touch me, but the man ignored her.

Faster than the human eye could see, Starr put her hand around the mans neck and slammed it to the counter, pinning him there. He yelped and groaned as he clawed at her hands, but she was too strong. Starr, who was a black black belt in Karate, a natural runner, and could bench press like a man when she was alive, was now a real life woman of steel. It was for this reason that The Council and, particularly, Louisa Credenza had taken an interest in her; however, Starr had a deep rooted feeling that their intentions were not wholly pure, and she wouldnt be forced to do anything she didnt agree with. There werent many vampires, young or old, who could take Starr on, which is why she flew to Romania to spy on The Council. If she could find out what their plans, for her, were, then she could determine whether, or not, she needed to prepare for the fight of her life. Personally, thought Starr a few times, shed rather just fall off the face of the Earth, and if it werent for the people in her life that she cared about, she would have. The problem with hiding from other vampires was some of them had the same natural ability, as Starr, to sense each others presence; to pick each other out of a crowd.

Worse was the older they got, the stronger their powers became. Hiding from Credenza would be like running from the law with a cell phone in her pocket; shed always be on satellite and easily located. The barrister, who was cleaning a glass stopped and stared, as did the other patrons. Normally, people were surprised to see that skinny, beautiful Starr could kick a mans butt. He whimpered and clawed at her hand, trying to get her to release her grip. Finally, she let him up. He looked at her, his face red and angry, and then walked out. The patrons continued to stare; Starr stared back, defiantly. Ce este? she said loudly and angrily; the patrons turned back to what they were doing, quickly.

Castle De Negru Chapter 2 The next day, she took the Carpathian Mountains Bonus tour, only it didnt go high up into the mountains, but, rather, just up into the immediate hills where they viewed the city from on high. The road was a windy, winding path. Occasionally, Starr wondered if the bus could tip over the side. Judging by scent that other passengers were giving off, many others were a little frightened, too. When they got to the top of their point, she caught sight of an enormous blackas-coal lake; it was long fished out and dead. The bus driver continued up several more miles of road, and the further up they got, the more the road diminished; leaving barely enough room for the bus to drive on. The higher they went, the more nervous the passengers seemed to get. After a few more miles, the bus turned right onto a rocky road that took them, steadily, down an incline. As they made their way down, they passed a herd of goats and a couple herdsman.

Crazy as it seemed, to her, and many of the tourists, this was a spectacular site to see; the idea that people still did such things was unimagined. Further along, Starr saw, ahead, a dark castle approach: Castel de Negru, the bus driver called it. As they got closer to the castle, Starr felt a tickle in her ear. She rubbed it, but the tickle turned into a buzz. Curiously, she looked around to see if anyone else noticed the weird noise, but no one appeared to be bothered. A few hundred more feet and her head started to feel like it was being penetrated by infrasonic sound waves. Trying to protect her ears, she put her hands to her ears, but it didnt help. Then, instantly, her mind was flooded with the thoughts of a dozen people, murmuring. It hurt bad, making her eyes water. Although she was a kind of telepath, her specialty was sensing other people or vampires around her, and seeing pictures in her mind of what they were doing in the present. This was the first time shed ever been able to hear conversations taking place, too. Then, like someone put a movie in her mind, she saw that inside they were

preparing a blood bath. The sight made her inner animal thirsty, and her fangs protruded forward a bit. Desperately, she tried to ignore the images and commanded her fangs to recede, but, then, she saw a large stone bath in the center of the room, where a table could have seated 50 people. A man in a white suit was tying up a goat that cried, loudly, by the feet; he strung him upside down, over the basin and slit its throat. The blood poured down in a thick stream. There were six goats, next to it, that were slowly dying, their cries becoming less and less, as theyd had their throats slit moments before. Sometimes, when she didnt get blood, regularly, in her diet, she would turn at the sight of it; meaning her vampire would show its self; her fangs would extend and her eyes would change colors. If she was really starved for blood, she could even vamp out. To vamp out was a serious thing that could cause Starr to lose human consciousness, turning her into a mindless zombie and killing machine.

Starr fidgeted, uncomfortably, in her seat; she didnt know if she could stop from turning right there, as the images continued to permeate her mind. Finally, her skin started to tingle, she felt her fangs extended all the way, and it was too late. She reached inside her jacket, pulled out her sunglasses and covered her iridescent-kaleidoscope eyes, which was a bizarre sight on anyone. A low growl came from her throat. She tried to silence it but she felt helpless, like she was losing the fight against her inner demon. Just when shed given up, and was about ready to jump out of the window to avoid killing anyone, the feeling lifted. She looked out of the window; the castle was a hundred feet behind them, and then five hundred, and then a thousand. The further away they got, the calmer Starr became. The bus continued five more miles down the path, and stopped in an obscured little town. Still unable to draw back her fangs, she decided to go to the bathroom and splash some water on her face.

After seeing her sweaty, pallid reflection in the bathroom mirror, she decided to stay behind, rather than return to Sibiu, because she didnt know if she could pass the castle, again. Next time, she would surely vamp out and someone might die. Maybe she could track one of those goats shed seen being herded? Staring at the ground, and covering her mouth so as not to show her fangs to the bus driver, she explained that she would stay the night, at the bed and breakfast, and then take the bus home, the next day. The driver stared at her and Starr got the sensation that he knew what was really bothering her: that she needed blood. Fortunately, the man just told her to be careful and then gave her a map of the area. After checking into the towns bed and breakfast, she paced the room, trying to calm her inner animal which had picked up its growl again, but, like a nicotine addict she was bouncing off the walls. The smartest thing to do would be to go out and get a goat, but she hated hunting when she wasnt in her right mind. Its too late; I need blood, now!

Fortunately, for her, as soon as she stepped outside, the scent of blood caught her. Tasting the air, she could tell that it came from the town square. Following the scent with her mind, she saw that there was a little butcher shop. A man was cleaning out a cow hed only purchased that morning, so the blood, she smelled, was real fresh. She walked fast through the dirt, for the town had no sidewalks. Just before the front door of the butcher shops building, she turned left down a walkway between it, and the building right before. Twenty feet down, and to her right, was a little clearing where a man was spraying the meat of a cow with a water hose. In the corner, there was a bucket full of the cows blood. From inside the building, a phone rang. He put down the nozzle and disappeared through the door. Quick as she could, Starr ran up, grabbed the bucket and then disappeared, further, down the walkway. At the end of the walkway, she turned right and continued down the alley. A moment later, she sat on a trash bin, put the bucket up to her mouth, and poured every drop of the rich red liquid down her throat.

Ugh! she blurted out. Cow blood was the worst! It was the sturdier breeds of animal that tasted good: lamb, chicken, goat, and even dogs. But if she had to drink animal blood, her most preferred was chicken. Despite the foul taste of the blood, she felt relief. She licked her lips and teeth, which retracted, instantly. Then she pulled a mirror from her jacket pocket and took off her sunglasses: her eyes were still glowing. It would be awhile before theyd return to their normal sterling grey. Not wanting to be found in such a weird position, on a trash bin with a bloody bucket, she got up and walked, further, down the road, taking in the rest of the little town. There wasnt much to it. She could count the number of commercial buildings on both hands. It was chilly and dusty, and practically a ghost town. As she walked, it did occur to her that the Castel de Negrus inhabitants might have known something about The Council. Perhaps they could give her some insight about the organization and tell her where it was?

Although the Castel de Negrus inhabitants might also be Council members, she thought, too. After contemplating the Negru vampires, she decided to check it out, later. She spent the rest of the afternoon lying in her bed at the bed and breakfast, as there was nothing else to do in the little town. When it was dark, she ran out and up the road. Although this task would have been arduous for a mortal, for Starr it took fifteen minutes to run the few miles back up to the castle. As she got closer, she immediately sensed the dozen, or so, vampires in there, laughing, mingling, and still preparing for whatever was to happen, that night. She stopped at a tree about fifty yards from the castle and probed the place with her mind. Just like earlier, she could hear bits and pieces of conversation: a lady in a white dress was ordering the drained goats to be spitted and roasted, a man was sitting in front of a large fireplace, drinking brandy, and someone, whose face she couldnt see clearly, was setting up silverware in the

enormous dining room where the blood bath was. She looked at her cell phone and saw that it was only 8 p.m.; whatever event they were planning hadnt begun yet. From what she saw, she couldnt conclude if they were good or bad vampires; whether they were in connection with The Council or not. Then, suddenly, it got quiet inside the castle. She knew that some of them, if not all of them, probably sensed her sensing them. One of them, whom shed seen earlier, a man in a white suit with a red bow tie, opened the front door of the castle and was walking toward the gate. Several men and women, from inside, crowded the doorway. Starr didnt know if it were wise to meet these vampires. They could kill her, or trick her, make her Credenzas slave. Who knew what kind of laws The Council lived by. Caution told her to run, immediately, so she hurried back down the road, toward the town. Briefly, she looked back and saw two red eyes gleaming at her, in the dark.

By the time she made it back to town, her legs felt gummy. Perhaps she was stronger than humans, but she could still exhaust her strength, as shed learned in previous battles. She stopped into a little bar, if you could call it that. It was the size of a closet, and all they served was beer and wine. The place was barely lit by dim gas lamps. There were five tables with chairs, but no bar. The dozen or so patrons looked surprised by her sudden appearance in the doorway. Starr observed their ragged clothes and vagrant expressions. Unlike the other Romanians, these people were dark and ethnic looking. Starr wondered if these were some of the infamous gypsies one hears about in ancient lore. Assemanator un bere, Ursus, Starr said uncertainly. Shed only learned that phrase yesterday, and it still wasnt rolling off her tongue quite right, but they must have understood, for the fattest and ugliest man of the bunch stood up and went behind a counter. Ignoring the other patrons who continued to stare, Starr watched the man as

she walked to a table on the opposite side of the room. At the table next to the men, there were two women in dirty jeans and tee shirts. The blonde had hair like a poodle, and her cheap red lipstick was smeared onto her teeth and unevenly around her mouth. Her dark haired companion looked even worse, with enough blue eye shadow to pass for a smurf. She had a huge rip in the knee of her jeans, and her rotting teeth reminded her of George Washington depictions. Starr didnt need her animal senses to know they were threatened by her. She figured shed better drink her beer and get back to her room because she didnt want to hurt anyone, but as she finished up and made to leave, the blonde one stepped in front of her. She talked at her in Romanian, but Starr only got half of what she said: something about her being a trashy, ignorant American which made her smirk. The woman had, obviously, not looked in a mirror, recently. Starr could have, easily, walked around the woman but it was common that vampires would walk slowly, so as to blend

in better. Humans were often confused and bewildered by the pace, at which, they could move and walk. It was only for this reason that she tried, and failed, to walk around the woman, once more; she was trying to appear normal. After her third failed attempt to exit, Starr picked her up by the shoulders, like she weighed no more than a large cat, and set her to the side of the door, and walked out. Dismissing the woman infuriated her, for she went berserk and came at her from behind, swinging her beer mug at the back of her head. Starr side stepped and made a side kick straight into her gut. The blonde flew into the wall and slid to the ground, unconscious. Next, her friend came at her, slappity slap, trying to smack her to death, which only made Starr laugh harder. Were they serious? She weaved back and to the side a couple times, and then, like slapping a gnat between two palms, fast like, she smacked the woman on both her cheeks.

The pain stunned her, and then she plopped to the ground like fallen a sack of potatoes. Shaking her head and laughing, she wandered back up the road, toward the bed and breakfast. Halfway up the road, she knew someone was following her, and whoever it was must have been incredibly filthy, for although he was like Starr, he gave off a foul stench from his pores; almost as though he hadnt bathed in a century, like hed rolled in pig slop. Now that was hardly fair, was it? said the foul smelling man. Starr turned around and saw he was just as foul to look at as he was to smell. What was it with these crazy Gypsy Romanians? From what she could tell, the rumors were true: they meant trouble. She stood there and waited for him to speak again. Who are you? he asked brazenly.

Silence; she wasnt going to oblige the arrogant piece of filth. Her resistance angered him. Did you hear me? he asked, as he walked up to her; the smell of dirty diapers emanating from him; his eyes dark and full of crazy. What are you, deaf? he asked irritably, but she simply stood there. What? You think youre tough? and he made to spit in her face, but Starr jammed the palm of her hand into his nose, causing it to break and spray blood. The man called her an evil name and tried to take a swipe at her, but failed. Next moment, out of the shadows, came a gang of them: filthy, rot smelling vampires. Starr was shocked. Were they really going to gang up on her? Even the gang back in NYC was hesitant to gang up on a woman, but, then again, shed always heard that Gypsies did everything, including fighting, dirty. Suddenly, it was like a Kung Fu movie, and Starr was the star as she whipped out her ruby studded sickles that Lucenzo, an old vampire, gave her.

They were the worst fighters shed ever engaged, even the gangsters, back home, had better moves. One guy, behind her, moved toward Starr. The one with the broken nose told him to hold Starr, in Romanian. Starr made two elegant steps, completing a full 360 degree circle. Next second, both their heads lay severed, on the ground. Four more came at her, she spun like elegantly, like she was turning for the ballet, and four more heads rolled. Starr was extremely disappointed. For a moment, she even wished they were still alive, and that she didnt use her knives. The downside to being as strong as she was, was never, quite, meeting her match. In fact, it was downright depressing, for the only person she ever could practice martial arts with, anymore, was herself. A high pitch, cross between a squeal and scream, emitted from her throat as she looked down at her blood spattered leather pants and vest. She could have cried! Her Jones New York lambskin would be destroyed if she

didnt wash and oil them, immediately! But her stuff was at home, in the city! Awakening Starr from her moment of shallowness, she heard a woman scream Bloody Mary. Shed forgotten about the two women, passed out, in front of the little pub! Starr didnt waste time; she took off running. Great! There goes my fact finding mission! Now she needed to worry about getting back to her hotel, and on the next flight out of Romania. But as she approached Castel de Negru, she sensed the inhabitants were anticipating her approach. She wasnt mistaken, either, for as she got closer, three of the people shed seen in her mind were standing in the road. Starr stopped running, pulled out her sickles and raised them high to sky, then back down so that they gleamed under the light of the moon: a grand gesture, letting them know she was ready to fight.

There were three of them standing elbow-to-elbow: the dark haired man with the red bow tie, a Botticelli blonde in a white goddess-like dress, and a scrawny blond guy.