“Never run from anything immortal; it only attracts their attention.”

“Leave me alone!”

Katya balled her hands into fists and felt the blood rush through her veins, like an explosion, rising up through her in slow motion, tiny pinpricks of pain as it ruptured where nail met flesh and eyes saw him.

“Did I ever tell you about my first love?”

He had slid down the other side of the door, talking to her through the thin wood as if they were dorm buddies, staying up late for a chat on life, the universe and everything. Not lovers. Not anymore. Her sobs subsided.

“Oh she was beautiful. Dark hair, darker than night. We’d walk along the shores of the Euphrates, holding hands, talking of spirits and children.”

“Did you tell her too?”

Katya could feel his smile behind the wood panelling; the satisfaction in having enticed her to talk. He loved to talk. He could talk for hours, about every topic and period and subject. Nothing delighted him more than talking.

“She grew wise, as all have done so eventually. She gave me seven daughters and a son. Isaiah. My boy became a man, a fine young man, who took for himself a wife of his own. At their betrothal my wife grabbed my hand, turned to me when none of the villagers were looking and whispered a warning to me.”

Katya waited. The pause grew. Became heavy. She could feel his lips moving, waiting to speak, to continue and bring closure to the sentence. She said nothing.

“It doesn’t matter,” he finally said. “She raised the children well in my absence. Better perhaps. I found Isaiah many years later. He had begun a family of his own and in turn they again.

“I grew close with his granddaughter. A woman of such elegance, a scribe or scholar. I forget now. She reminded me of her mother, the way she lay with me.”

Katya felt the shock return like a tidal wave and spun, placing her palms flat against the door. The sickness threatened to wrench her to the ground. The world tilted.

“How could you?”

“How could I what?”

“She was your kin.”

“She was mortal. Any torment she felt would be fleeting.”

“A human life is not fleeting!”

He laughed. In all her years she had not heard such a sound. A maniac mixed with monster, bludgeoning the vocal chords. She smashed a fist against the door and he roared harder. Harder!

“I have followed my blood line. Tasted it. Rome and Perusia and Britain and here.”

“No,” she whispered. “No!” she screamed.

“Oh my dear, why do you run from me? You know it only attracts my attention.”

Prompt originally posted by blurble8 on reddit and received 3 upvotes.

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