My mother always used to tell me that when our family lived in England, we were nobility. Not like, a king or a Duke or anything super impressive, but definitely nobility. We had an Earl in our family, or a Baron or something. And then she would show me the rings.<br/><br/>They were very pretty rings; one was wrought in gold with a crest on it. Mother said it was something called a signet ring and used to stamp wax seals, acting like a signature when a letter was sealed. Plus, you'd know who sent it just by looking at the wax.<br/><br/>The other was beautiful, and probably worth a lot of money. Made of silver that never seemed to tarnish, it housed an emerald-cut sapphire of the deepest blue I'd ever seen. Sometimes she would let me try them on and I would go around calling myself 'M'lord' and bowing to my mother, asking if she'd 'care to daaaahnce'. Oh, and I'd use the worst English accent I could... because our family was English, you see.<br/><br/>Well, it made sense in my head!<br/><br/>I'd tried to trace our family tree, but I was never able to find much information on them. Mum said it's because we changed our name when we emigrated and all the old records with the old name had been destroyed. Now we were known as the Fantom's and we weren't nobility anymore. I went to a public high school, for God's sake.<br/><br/>In fact, if anything, my life was painfully normal. School, homework. More school. More homework. Bullies. Chess club. Bullies. The normal, you know? Having an ancestor that was an Earl certainly wasn't helping me survive tenth grade.<br/><br/>Every day was like the one before (but I wasn't in a poor, provincial town).<br/><br/>Until one day, it wasn't...<br/><br/>I had just got off the bus and was on my way down my driveway when the front door flew open and my mother, looking as though the devil was on her tail, came flying out to meet me. She pressed a velvet box in my hand; the box that the rings were kept in, and told me to run.<br/><br/>"Mum! What's going on!? What's happ--"<br/><br/>"Run!" She practically screamed at me, pushing me back down the driveway just as two other men emerged from the house. I couldn't see their faces, but they had guns.<br/><br/>Guns!? They had guns!<br/><br/>"GO!" She screamed again and I didn't know what to do. I took off running, but I was no track star. I pumped my legs as hard as I could but as two shots split the air behind me, my mother screamed again, and then fell silent.  I stumbled and fell shoulder-first in shock. Hitting the ground hard, I had the breath knocked out of me, but I didn't have time to try and recover. I had to scramble to my feet again keep running, I had to keep running because I heard the clatter of feet behind me, of people shouting, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. Probably telling me to stop, but I couldn't stop. They *shot* my mother!<br/><br/>What the actual fuck was going on!?<br/><br/>Still running as fast as I could, I jumped a fence, ducked into an empty backyard and pressed myself back under a large flowering bush. I kept raking my hands through my thick, black hair, rocking back and forth and trying my best not to hyperventilate.<br/>Help! Oh, someone ... anyone! I need someone's help, please!"<br/><br/>I could hear the two voices; they sounded like they were still in the street, but getting closer with every second. If they each picked a side, and flanked around the house, I'd be screwed. There'd be no one for me to run.<br/><br/>My breathing was faster now, I was wheezing I was breathing so hard. "Please, please, please, I need help. I don't care who, please, just help me!" I could hear the desperation in my voice voice, thick with tears that I was trying to hold back...<br/><br/>And then... then the air becomes strangely quiet. I can hear the voices of the two men, but they sound far away, like they're talking through water. When I look through the branches of the bush, it's as though the sky has gone dark, shadowy, like dusk. But it's barely four PM.<br/><br/>Cutting through the quiet is the click of heels on the concrete patio stones. I can't see a face, only two legs that seem to stretch up forever<br/><br/>_____________<br/><br/><br/>The sweet sensation of pleas met a demon's ear and in a moment, it was all over for the child. Yes, a child they were, compared to their thousands of years of living. His potential master was a young teenager this time; a commoner's upbringing with an Earl's blood. They could smell it on him, the rich scent of a plutocrat running through his veins. It made the situation all the more delicious, tension and fear shuddering through his prey-no, client's body.<br/><br/>They were a tall drink of water, the heels to their leather boots clicking on the pavement as they drew closer. The darkness seemed to shroud around their body, welcoming their master home. The only thing shining through the darkness at 4 PM was eyes, gleaming yellow and pearly white teeth. Their figure was slender, shoulders squaring up sharply in their suit black as soot.<br/><br/>Clip Clip<br/><br/>They strolled closer, nostrils flaring as they took in the sweet afternoon scent of grass and dread. All was silent save for the heavy breathing of the child and the droll of the village idiots lefts behind. No cricket symphonies could be heard nor the lifeless melody of suburban life.<br/><br/>"Your pleas of help, I could not pass up." Their velvety voice called out calmly, as if they had all the time in the world at their fingertips.<br/><br/>"I heard your desperation, but are you willing to accept the consequences?"