200 years later...

I stand, opening the door to my library. There's an alien on the screens. I narrow my eyes, shake my head, and go back inside.

I start shelving. Most humans are leaving. There's a virus coming they say, it'll wipe out all human life in two years.

People are panicking. Humans have changed, becoming a more desperate sort of creature. Men have all but died out. Still I launder about my empty library.

There's a portrait hanging in the reading corner. Unfortunately, there's scarcely any children left. He smiles down at me. I kiss to my fingers, pressing them against his picture idly, as I begin shelling.

I'll be alone soon. I think humans may be dying out for good. I'm not sure what I'll do if they're gone. If I'll just have this hunger eternally.

I've never fed from an alien. Maybe I'll have to try that.

My ears perk up as I hear a familiar clack of a walking stick.

"Hm...I'm starving," He remarks behind me. My lips turn up.

"Are you now?" I say softly, shelving a book. My hands are shaking.

"Handsome fellow," he remarks as he passes the painting.

"You sound old."

"I am old. Desperately so. And yet I find myself so...hungry. I have an urge."

I smile. What if I turn around it I'm wrong. But I know. I know I'm not.

I turn around. He smirks at me, his lustrous blonde hair in his blue eyes, as he leans against his walking stick, fangs glinting in the low light.

"Do you think you can date that urge, Eleanor La Rue?"

He pulls me into his arms, hands around my waist. I'm winded. I swallow roughly.

"It...it depends. What is that urge, Alastair La Rue?"

He smirks. "An urge to devour."