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<br/>
<span style="font-family:Philosopher"><span style="font-size: 12px">“How pathetic it is to describe these things which can't truly be described.” </span></span>​</div><span style="font-family:Philosopher"><br/>
He had thanked her for being such a lovely student and then had seen her back to her home. That night, he brought three women home, two of them redheads, and butchered them in the dungeon he had below the house. When he had drained them completely of their blood, he had supped on a fine wine in a porcelain bathtub full of their blood while listening to Bach on the radio, humming along. Talks with Caspian always put him in a bad mood and, if a few mortals had to pay the price to bring him back to his normal ambivalence it was a price he would happily help them pay. Once he had finished with his blood bath, the three women had joined the Fosters in their backyard graveyard. It was getting silly really. Soon, his entire backyard would be a graveyard. Luckily, ghosts weren't real or else he might have been a tinge worried about it.<br/>
<br/>
Needless to say the next month or so passed in a dream. Three more times he had Katherine over at his place. And each time, he had had to go out and murder some poor unfortunate girl that somewhat resembled Katherine. He had had to revert to the use of his powers, going up and down the Eastern Seaboard so that he wouldn't attract attention from mortal authorities. Already, on the news, the disappearance of four women in the local area of upstate New York had had the police officials of New York worried there might be someone nefarious operating in the area. They were not completely wrong on that score but they would never catch him. His abilities and powers allowed him to remain beyond the perception of the authorities.<br/>
<br/>
He had already drawn this Hunt out longer than he normally would have. However, each time after he had drained another poor unfortunate soul with the red hair, blue eyes, or fair skin of Katherine, he had told himself that it had been worth it. Each time while she had been in his presence he had kept his hands behind his back and did everything in his power to not take her at that moment. It had been pleasant really. Denying himself to such a point where it had driven him to a murderous rage had been a new feeling. To a being that had allowed himself to have whatever he had wanted without delaying in the acquisition it had been a new feeling. A new feeling. Yes. Feeling. That in itself a novel experience. <br/>
<br/>
However, as he had entered that last day he would be teaching history, he had been surly. While the novelty of delayed gratification was a pleasant burn in his loins and stomach, the idea that he might be developing <i>feelings </i>for a mortal slip of a girl had been jarring. He did not develop feelings. For anyone or anything. He was an Immortal. He had watched his beloved Roman Empire, the place of his birth fall. He had watched the hordes of Muslims descend and crash like waves upon Constantinople. He had seen the Mongol Hordes sweep down upon Samarkand. In that time he had loved and lost many fine women, many dying at his very hands. Queens, nobles, princesses, and concubines of famous conquerors. They had all fallen to his sophistication and the lure of his darkness. Much to their woe.<br/>
<br/>
So, to think that some American teenager could effect him thus had him in a mood.<br/>
<br/>
He swept in to the room and came to an abrupt stop at the front of the class."Sadly, this will mark the end of my vacation among you." That earned a few dispirited chuckles and he smiled wanly."To that end, you had an assignment to complete while I was here. When the class is over please leave it on the desk." He motioned to the desk behind him."Since it is my last day don't worry about anything today. Sit back. Talk. Socialize." He waved them to it and retreated behind his desk to look at the portrait he had drawn of Katherine, tracing a finger across the plump lips he had drawn. Yes. He had done well with this recreation. He glanced up to Katherine and then back down to her likeness. He tapped the portrait.<br/>
<br/>
That was the problem. He had drawn the Hunt out too long. He promised himself he would end the Hunt soon.<br/>
<br/>
Would he?</span>