If Jordan possessed a functioning heart as opposed to the dry and crumbling organ which lurked within his dead chest, it would have been beating fit to burst right now. This was no position for a vampire of his importance to be in, cowering behind a row of dustbins like a frightened rat, but if wanted to keep those youthful good looks of his it would probably be a good idea to remain in seclusion for the time being.

Jordan narrowed his hearing to pick out individual voices amongst the traffic sounds from the road, a short distance away from thealley in which he sought shelter. Quiet whispers.. only the words "steps" and "escape" audible.. the sound of ammo being loaded into a rifle.. the crunch of army surplus boots on damp concrete.. similiar boots on metal.. and suddenly a tiny high-pitched muffled screaming voice coming from his inside jacket-pocket.

Jordan reached in and pulled out the tiny wriggling shape, an old and slightly over-hugged stuffed teddy bear. The tiny thing fixed Jordan with as angry an expression as its black bead eyes and tailors felt nose would allow. Jordan placed his hand over the tiny things snout to dampen its noises, before pulling his hand away sharply after receiving a sharp pin-prick bite from the bear.

"I told you, never the inside pocket", the little bear shouted accusingly, "It smells of mints and cigarettes in there. It makes my tiny nose hurt. I could quite easily suffocate in there."

"Hush!", retorted Jordan watching as the redness of the wound on his hand faded, the tiny pinpricks filling with new flesh, "Do you want them to hear us? It was you who got me into this trouble in the first place, if you hadn't forgotten."

"Nonsense", said the Bear turning its head away from him, "Nothing you can't handle. An immortal like yourself should have no difficulty coping with a measly two vampire hunters. Call this a test.. a test to show that you're worthy of the gifts I plan to bestow upon you."

Jordan placed the bear down on the ground and popped his head up from behind the dustbins. One of the hunters was visible, a tall and stocky man wielding a shotgun. The other was nowhere in sight, probably just around the corner of the alley somewhere. The bear meanwhile walked around in a circle rubbing its aching back with tiny padded paws, a pained expression on its face. Jordan sank back behind the bins, his senses sharp, ignoring the moans and complaints of the little creature.

Jordan suddenly tilted his head sharply upwards, sniffing the air. In one swift movement he grabbed the bear and lunged against the wall as a blaze of weapon fire pierced the dustbins, riddling the area where they once stood with a hail of bullets. The air was immeadiately filled with the deafening sound of metallic clangs and loud shots, leaving the dustbins fragmented smoking corpses.

His cover blown (and his ass nearly blown apart), Jordan looked upwards and saw his attacker - the other hunter on a fire-escape some two floors from the ground. Presumably (yet incorrectly) thinking Jordan was armed, the would-be assassin ducked back into the cover of darkness in the shadows of the wall, a few dozen spent cartridges falling towards Jordan. Jordan heard the all too familiar sound of ammo being clicked into place.

Before they clattered onto the ground, Jordan was airborne. A single leap launched him onto the lowest fire escape, a second leap onto the next. Before his attacker could react and lift his rifle Jordan was leaping at him, a whirling mass of tooth and claw. The rifle fell to the ground, its dead owner falling upon it in an awkward heap a second later. Jordan looked down at his victim, blood bubbling from his open mouth, a surprised expression on his scarlet face.

"Leave me here", ordered the bear. Jordan did as he was told, placing the tiny stuffed toy beside the corpse. He turned away from the bear and began to slowly creep down the fire-escape, his narrowed eyes scanning for the shotgun wielder. Behind him he heard the hideous sounds of sucking and bones twisting to breaking point, but did not dare turn around. He had only done this once, and the bear had punished him severely for this misdemeanour - It had taken Jordan a week and several dozen pints of blood to heal from the wounds the bear had forced Jordan to inflict upon himself. The memories of what he had seen when he had turned around had oddly faded over time, and Jordan thought no more of it (or perhaps dared not think?).

Reaching the ground, Jordan hugged the wall and kept to the security of the shadows as he progressed along the alleyway in search of the remaining vampire-hunter. He could smell the fear of the mundane individual, the mingled scent of excited pheremone and perspiration, and followed the trail as clearly as if there were signposts leading the way. Shotgun stood at the end of the alleyway, the lights from the road behind him clearly outlining his silhouette. He had foolishly lowered his shotgun and stood there silently, apparently waiting for Jordan to emerge.

Jordan confidently stepped from out of the shadows into the centre of the alleyway. Shotgun raised his weapon and levelled it towards him, but the Vampire did not flinch. Calmly he began to walk slowly towards the hunter, his arms outstretched in a bizarre mockery of the Christian Crucifixion. Shotgun fired twice, but panic coupled with shadowy darkness strayed his aim and the shots went wide. Shotgun fumbled to reload, but his shaking hands dropped the ammunition which scattered and rolled at his feet. Praying aloud to a hopefully understanding God, Shotgun collapsed to his knees grabbing for the shotgun ammunition with both hands. A shadow fell upon him, and he looked up to see Jordan staring down at him with expressionless features, and the hunter barely had time to nervously mutter "Amen" before the Vampire fell upon him like a storm.

Shotgun wriggled for escape from Jordans grip, but this struggling quickly ceased once the teeth sank into his neck. Shotgun gave one final convulsive jerk which nearly threw Jordan away, but the vampires hold was tight and he began to feed. The rich red liquid, more satisfying than any wine, filled Jordans mouth with every slowing pump of Shotguns heart. Jordan closed his eyes, allowing himself to be washed over by the nigh-on orgasmic sensation of feeding. He could feel the warmth spread slowly into long-dead veins, the colour flooding into his features, the power, Oh the power.. the thumping of Shotguns heart rung loud in Jordans ears, each beat followed by a longer and longer gap as the mortal approached death..

Jordan dropped the drained husk of Shotgun, wiping his bloodied mouth with the back of his hand. "Guess your God wasn't watching out for you that time" he whispered, closing Shotguns staring eyes with his fingers. Jordan saw that Shotgun was clutching on to a tiny gold crucifix with dead fingers.

"What was that you said, Jordan?", said a tiny voice behind him, "Talking to yourself again? Madness that way lies". Jordan looked around and then down to see bear standing there staring with his black bead eyes, his expression as usual so hard to read.

"I just find it odd", remarked Jordan, "how people like these religious fanatics can place so much trust in something which clearly isn't there, something so obviously fictional."

"Funny that", said bear.

David Court
david@alexreid.co.uk

About the author:
David Court is 26 years of age, and when not out roaming the moonlit streets of Coventry as the Midlands only fully-fledged superhero, he leads a double life as a millionaire playboy and man of Leisure. He is also one of Coventrys most unconvincing liars, and waits patiently for his home to be featured in "Hello" magazine. When not storytelling for Werewolf the Apocalypse, he has a life.

© 1997 David Court. All rights reserved.