When Rhys pivoted, he saw that three large men were standing in a row not ten feet away. A fourth man appeared out of the darkness and stood near the exit, blocking off all possibility of escape. Confused and looking around wildly, Rhys saw only one way out and that was good luck getting passed the feral members. He swore he was just on his bed trying to sleep then this happened.

"Crap," he whispered.

"Yeah, that sort of sums up what's left of your life," said one man who stood larger than the rest. With a face pockmarked by the scars of adolescent acne as well as battle scars he'd probably received in an untold number of fights, he added, "Got anything else to say?"

Rhys started to shake once the men came closer. From the way they dressed-long, black leather jackets, black boots and black shirts-she knew they were Shifters. They were a group of rogues who'd made their presence known a few months before with a series of violent acts against the homeless and the unlucky. And it was bad enough that he saw them doing their dirty work.

On the rare occasions when they deigned to meet the press, they always wore masks to disguise their faces as they espoused their wrong doings. "We're here to keep Central California safe. We're Safe Keepers."

Safe Keeping -they called it their motto. Some of the more clued-out citizens thought of them as guardian angels, but in reality they were merely punks who enjoyed killing innocent people for sport.

As for the police? Hah, this was California we're talking about, and the problems didn't just come and go it stayed there. They often claimed that they were in the process of making arrests. However, thus far they'd only hauled in two of the safe-keeping scum. Either they had more important things to do or else they were failing their only job. Concerning their weapons of choice, the Shifters rarely used weapons that are made of silver. Walking mountains didn't need silver, although they did carry an assortment of metal pipes, knives and guns. But now he knew their dirty little secret.

Now, the rustle of metal grating against metal resounded throughout the building and it sent another chill down his spine. "Guys," he said, summoning up his courage, "I didn't mean to, I swear I'll keep my mouth shut-"

"And we're going to keep your mouth shut forever," interrupted the leader as a savage grin split his nasty face.

Looking more closely at the man, Rhys noticed that he actually had his name stenciled on his jacket-Lachtan. Now what kind of idiot would advertise his name for the law to see? Oh! wait, the law wasn't here and no one cared.

"Are you ready, kid?" Lachtan asked. He carried a metal pipe and smacked it against his palm. The sound of metal hitting flesh echoed across the room. From the way he held it, it looked as though he knew how to use it. "You humans keep on making our jobs harder," he continued, swinging the pipe faster.

"We put a lot of effort on 'em," added Shifter number two, who carried a length of heavy chain. He didn't have his name stenciled on his coat, but it didn't make him any less threatening. "Get ready, brat. If you want to pray, do it now."

Allowing a final prayer also set the Shifters apart from other thugs. From what the newspapers had said, the Shifters always allowed their victims one last prayer before they ripped them apart. They then wrote the prayer in blood on the ground so all could see.

Quivering now, a feeling of hopelessness along with waterworks struck, Rhys clenched up his fists, desperately trying to hold everything in. He only hoped that his end would be quick. Bending to one knee, he made his voice sound as quiet and humble as possible. "Guys, I didn't didn't even know how I got here-"

He stopped speaking when he saw their implacable expressions. They weren't going to listen to him anymore than the wind would. He stayed down, but spotted a crowbar out of the corner of his eye. Oh yeah... Say hello to my little friend!

When the leader asked him again if he wanted to pray, Rhys seized the crowbar and in a shocking burst of desperation, smashed the big man on the kneecap. Lachtan fell to the ground and howled, "You freakin' hit me!"

As the other two men stood by, shocked that a victim would actually hit back, Rhys got to his feet, set his stance, took batting practice and knocked out Number Two. The other two men ran at him, but he menaced them back until he reached the door. "Come and get some," he challenged

.

Bad idea, as the other men came at him. Stunned, he dropped the crowbar and tore out of the door, the howls of the men following her into the night. "You're dead!" they screamed. "You're freakin' dead!"

No, he wasn't—not yet. The cold air revived him, and he ran out of the building and down the alleyway. Strength wasn't his forte, but he could run, and fear and desperation fueled her flight. A metal fence at the end of the alley separated her from the safety of the street. Salvation lay ten feet away, straight up and over.

With a lunge, he jumped halfway up the fence and started to scale it, but a knife sang out of the darkness and buried itself in the back of his right leg. He screamed and fell to the ground. Closing his hands around the haft, he yanked the blade out. Blood spurted from the wound as agony lanced through his body. Try as he might to get up, he couldn't. The enemy closed in on him position, the leader limping noticeably, but he noticed that his injuries were starting to heal and Rhys cowered against the fence.

"You little turd," growled Lachtan. "We usually get rid of the brat quickly, but in your case, we'll make an exception."

"I'm only seventeen," Rhys protested. Why they were doing this to him was wrong and didn't they care? He wanted to shout it, but then realized, just like everyone else, they didn't care. The pack surrounded him and the assault began. Kicks to his ribs and stomach, sharp claws scratching on his face...

Covering up didn't help much. In that period known as the-moment-before-it-all-ended, he silently asked the wind to take him away. All he heard, though, was a whisper. Abruptly, the men stopped the beating. "Did you hear that?" one of them asked nervously. "It sounded like...wings."

"Maybe it's that bat they're talkin' about on the news," another punk said with a note of fear in his voice.

"Shut your mouth," snarled Lachtan. "There ain't no such thing."

The whisper of the wind grew stronger, and a gale force sprang up, pushing the attackers back. It wasn't random. It was as if someone or something had thrown up an invisible column of air, hard and impenetrable. "What's goin' on here?" Lachtan asked with a note of fear in his voice.

His friends didn't say anything, just pointed to the sky. Following their lead, Lachtan looked up and screamed. The other three men screamed as well when someone wearing a black cape dropped out of nowhere to land noiselessly in front of them. Black leather pants and boots completed the picture.

This was no bat. It was a person. It was dressed much the same as the Shifters but it looked sleeker and totally otherworldly. "What in the hell are you?" Lachtan shouted. "What are you?!"

The individual didn't answer. It stood stock still at first, and from his vantage point, Rhys estimated the person to be around six— five. Overly large and all, but whatever this person was, they had some veil of power capable of keeping the scum at bay.

As for this person's gender, it was impossible to tell, even though they wore their hair long. It streamed behind their head like a black waterfall, glossy and full, and shone clearly in the dim light of the streetlamps. Quickly the Shifters forgot about their terror and went on the offensive. Using their weapons as well as their claws, they beat on the newcomer, but the person in black simply allowed them to wail away. Their bullets and pipes and they even used their sharp claws but they just bounced back on the invisible hide.

Finally, in what had to be the last, desperate move of an equally desperate person, Lachtan pulled a pistol from his coat pocket and emptied the clip into the figure in black. He shot at point—blank range, no less than two feet away. No way could he miss...and he didn't. The person jerked around from the impact of the bullets but didn't go down. The ejected cartridges hit the concrete, each of them making a faint pinging sound.

Abruptly the gun clicked empty and it fell from Lachtan's suddenly-nerveless hand. "What's going on?" he screamed in fear as well as frustration. "Why won't you die?!"

"Because I can't," the person answered in a very deep voice.

A guy — It was a man! Rhys shrank back against the fence and watched as he went into action. In a series of moves almost too fast for his eyes to follow, he seized the enemy one by one in an iron grip around their throats and tossed them at the wall in rapid succession. They hurtled through the air, hit the bricks with a sickening thud and fell to the ground.

Seconds later, he strode over in a casual manner to where Lachtan was. Bending over him, he addressed him in a tone colder than ice. "Now, you shouldn't be picking on people. You know better." He waggled his finger as if to underscore his statement.

"Don't kill me," he babbled in a voice thick with fear. "I don't want to die...please."

A second later, he began mewling out of sheer stark raving terror. Through a blur of pain, observed the ownage going on, and it was sweet. Call this a moment to cherish...if he lived that long.

"I'm not going to kill you," the man said. Lachtan shrank back against the brick and his rant shut off like a faucet being twisted. "You're...not? What are you?"

His voice softened only a shade, but his eyes has a dangerous glint on it.

Lachtan remained as he replied, "I'm your nightmare come true. The one you don't talk about. And I'll come back if you don't stop what you're doing."

In a lightning fast move, he punched him, just once, but very hard. His head snapped around, connected with the brick, and he slithered to the ground, unconscious. He pirouetted, and Rhys got his first clear view of him. The face was an adult's. He looked to be around his mid 20's and had angular, pretty manly features, but with very pale white skin, so white it resembled porcelain. His eyes were bloody red, the color of Love and Death. Pretty though he was, his attention wasn't on his face or body. He zeroed in on his teeth.

No, not teeth... he had fangs.

Fangs...it wasn't possible. This was the twenty-first century. People like this didn't exist. Just when a second ago, he was almost killed by rouges. But his mind screamed one word—vampire.

He wanted to scream, run away but he knew it was no use with his injuries so he just watched him walk toward him. He was still afraid but he couldn't help but be curious of who the man is. He was-

His thoughts were cut short when the man was suddenly in front of him. He flinched back but he grabbed his wrist making him stay still.

"I'm not going to hurt or kill you so don't worry" he felt relieved when he heard that but she saw him grab a small bottle with a weird liquid on it.

"Drink this, it will help your wounds heal faster. " he said and with a little hesitation, he drank the weird liquid and felt sleepy but for some reason he felt relaxed. He looked at the man and asked.

"Who are you?"

He just smiled and before he knew it he was consumed by darkness and let the needed sleep take over.

When he woke up. He on his bed. Sweating. And he thought.

' Just A Dream '

Concealed in a grove of dark withering trees, two figures waited.

Their hushed whispers lost in the soft crisp rustle of the wind-stirred leaves.

" My lord, I have almost forgotten how brilliant the moon is. "

" I know, Bel." he said with a shade of sadness in his tone. "Since we are allowed only rare views since the curse began... So I too drink it in." He sighed then looked up the sky and felt the memories come though.

"How many years has to been since we last seen the Earth?"

"Too many," he said, more than a hint of bitterness in his tone.

They waited, not ten paces away from the flat side of a massive boulder. Beyond that, the silver moonlight shone down on a clearing framed by the thick fog. It was a haunting view of their glorious fields, now in ruins.

Suddenly, the sheer face of the stone radiated a dazzling blue light. The two crouched lower between the ashen trees. Bel raised his staff ready for combat.

"Hold," whispered the God. "If that is my brother, we are done"

The wall of the stone rippled like a virtual splash flow of water. It began to pulse and bulge as if the stone had turned into some elastic fabric or web.

Something was struggling to break out.

Neither God nor servant breathed as a hand broke through, then forearms and a torso. But the light intensified, making it almost impossible to see beyond the form's black silhouette.

The portal snapped shut, just a boulder once more. They couldn't see much of anything as their eyes readjusted to the moonlight.

"My Lord... Should I—?"

"Bel, stand your ground," the God said, finally being able to heave a relieved sigh to have given that order. He strode forward from the cover of the crisp and dark trees toward a male draped in a heavy looking cloak. His beta followed close behind.

"Lanse, what have you learned?" he asked.

"He is on Earth," he replied.

"Can you be certain?" he asked for confirmation.

He removed his hood, shook out his ashen blonde hair — silver on the moonlight — and nodded. "There can be no doubt. I felt the tremors among the humans."

"I cannot believe it... Cythia told us the truth," said the God. "I will personally go to Earth while the others gather. At last, some hope—"

"It will not be easy," Lanse interrupted. "He appears to apparently not know about us and he is within a place that seems to be scattered with the supernatural."

The expression of the God darkened when the statement was said.

"Among how many?" he asked.

"Thousands," he replied as he bowed while staring at his feet.

The servant was thunderstruck.

"Thousands?" Bel gasped. "But that would be like-"

"Leading straight to war." the God said calmly — thinking.

"And that is not the worst of it." Lanse said. "The enemies are there and I found him being attacked yesterday but luckily saving him."

"Then he knows," said the Alpha. "Cynthia thought as much. Lanse, thank you for saving my beloved but please prepare the others for the incoming battle. You must not let the enemy further attack him. Do whatever is necessary."

"I understand," he replied. "The humans and the supernatural there have weapons and such. "

"Good," he said. "Their weapons won't match the quality you're used to. Do what you can. But no matter what, you must continue to blend in."

Lanse replaced the hood of his cloak and turned towards the portal. "If our race has become skilled at anything these bitter, long years, it's hiding. Plus, what can kill the so called God of Death and King of the Otherworld?"

"And Lanse?" he heard the urgent questioning in his comrades voice and turned. "We must not fail."

Lanse crossed his wrists and bowed. "We will not. For Victory and Death."

" For Victory and Love."

While they end their conversation, Rhys still thought of his savior in the dream, he looked quite familiar, like someone from the past. But he just shrugged at how a dream can be so realistic.

He felt the pain of the cuts and the ringing in his ears at the shouting of the feral men, and how they turned into actual werewolves. He hasn't seen one in like forever.

It somewhat made him more curious if the supernatural was real. If his 'dream' was the actual reality.

It was Saturday so he didn't have school or anything to do.

It was boring.

He thought that maybe some thrill can make him happy. He didn't exactly have many friends. Just one.

And her name was Cynthia Roselyn Scallion. She was a remarkable girl. She was fierce, beautiful and sassy. No one could really approach her because of her intimidating aura but that didn't stop her increasing popularity among girls and boys. He was happy that Cythia was his friend, she was there will him through thick and thin. He thought that she might practically be his long lost sister.

He loved her as family. Rhys had parents that cared more about their work that their own flesh and blood. They were rich but always had no time.

He was alone.

He felt lonely even with Cynthia. He always felt like something was missing. A missing piece to his incomplete puzzle. He slowly closed his eyes as he stood near the counter in the kitchen while savoring the rich smell of coffee. He was lost again on his mind but his thoughts were cut short when the ringing of his phone interrupted. He picked it up when he saw it was Cynthia.

'Hey, wanna hang out today?'Cynthia asked through the phone.

"Sure, but what are we going to do?"

'Are you up for shopping at the mall?' she asked.

And did he mention that Cynthia was a shopaholic? Cause she is. And she'll literally shop till she drops and that takes more than a single hour, and if you offer to buy something for her, she'll ask for something really, really expensive. Like a dress for 5000? Pants for like 3000? And a watch for more than 20,000? She'll waste her black card for those.

"Okay, so let's meet up at 1?"

When it was almost 1, Rhys ran to his room. Luckily for him, he had showered and all that, he was just  lazing around.

Rhys went into his closet to pick up a nice outfit and  just tried to make his untamable hair look presentable. He put a little make up on for show and changed into his designated outfit. Rhys sprayed a little cologne in front of the mirror, and so to say,  he looked good.

“Perfect.”

Rhys grabbed his bag and put his phone and wallet in, before grabbing the keys as the doorbell rang. He walked to the door and opened it to see Cynthia looking as good as ever.

“Ready?” Cynthia asked.

Rhys nodded and locked the door behind him. The mall was just a walking distance from where he lived so they just walked.

When Rhys and Cynthia went inside the mall, Cynthia immediately pulled Rhys at the nearest store. She stopped in front of a window and gasped while Rhys just looked at the same clothing.

“OH MY GOD!” she exclaimed.

Cynthia was currently looking at a black hoodie with a cute 'hoodie' engraved on it. She ran into the store and Rhys just smiled at her excitement.

When Rhys followed her inside, he saw Cynthia already having a basket almost full of clothes. He too looked for his own clothes to buy. What caught his attention was another Gucci hoodie quite similar with the one Cynthia liked. He knew he had to buy it as well, but when he saw the price tag.

“Oh my Gosh... It's over 900 dollars,” he sighed. Don't get him wrong, he had money, lots of it. He's just saving up for the future and he was about to put it back in the rack when Cynthia stopped him.

“I can just buy it for you,” Cynthia said.

Rhys grinned while nodding at Cynthia, who was stuffing the hoodie in her shopping basket. After a few more minutes, Rhys felt they were finished so he went to the cashier to pay for the both of them when—

“WAIT!" Cynthia exclaimed. “I almost forgot to buy matching shoes for this!” she gives Rhys the money before running out into a different expensive store.

So Rhys paid the money Cynthia gave for both of them.

Cynthia absolutely loved shopping, especially when it wasn't common in her world. Before, she was stuck in between guarding the borders and gardens of their realm. She really didn't get why she had to guard Rhys at first, but as time passed she finally found out why 'He' loved him so much. Rhys was a shy boy,  he was kind; too kind, which led Cynthia to reprimand him, because someone might take advantage of that so called kindness. Rhys didn't really know how to socialize, as well as taking in compliments 'cause he always blushes everytime someone complimented him, he couldn't possibly hurt a fly, despite his title and reputation he had in his last lifetime, it was the total opposite and honestly she found that attitude adorable. Plus, The Valentine Cynthia knew was the kind of girl who drinks pomegranate juice and sits on the corner. She loved making flowers on the time of spring. She was the Goddess every nymph looked up to. She was the girl who always takes off her shoes  to run in the fields. But she was also the kind of girl who carried a set of daggers hidden under her dress.

Though in this lifetime, Valentine is a guy. Who knew nothing about the supernatural. Who already forgot the past.

But now, she was Rhys, as she said is a boy with a sweet personality who would help anyone under any circumstances but like his last persona, was also the guy who always carried a set of brass knuckles tucked inside his pockets. As instructed by her of course.

While she was busy daydreaming, Rhys found something that caught his interest,  it was a necklace and it was breathtaking. He was thinking of buying it but seeing the price made him almost spit blood, 5Million? so he just walked away and thought that he was already finished shopping for clothes. But he tilted his head when he found Cynthia staring at a distance, puzzled, Rhys walked in front of his friend and waved his hand in front of her face, that's when Cynthia finally got aware of her surroundings. She smiled while grabbing her hand and walked away like nothing happened.

Cynthia paid for her almost forgotten things and went home with Rhys walking beside her.

"That was refreshing," she said while Rhys just sweat dropped.

How can shopping for almost three hours be refreshing?

Time is getting faster.

"Well, thank you for shopping with me like usual so I'll be showing you a gift I think you'd like," Cynthia stated.

"Huh? What seems to be the occasion?" Rhys asked.

"You don't know?" Cynthia looked at Rhys with amused eyes.

Rhys shook his head once.

"What's the date today?"

"February 11, wha—" Rhys cut himself off, when he realized something.

"Oh,"

"Yes, oh." Cynthia said while giggling.

Oh, it was his birthday, he forgot about that, Rhys didn't know what face he was making but Cynthia suddenly burst out laughing.

"How unladylike,"

Rhys grinned.

But then Cynthia suddenly handed him a necklace, it was the super expensive necklace he saw at the store in the mall, he just knew that it was the 'incomparable' necklace, it was really really expensive because of its valuable pendant stone, he just noticed that instead of the yellow brown diamond like he saw; it was the just like the hope diamond in it's place, but it was a bit smaller, not like the original walnut size it just had the melee like diamond, like the ones you find in an engagement ring.

"W-where did you find this?" Rhys stuttered still flabbergasted at the necklace.

"I bought it for you, I saw you looking at it at the mall, I wanted to give to someone important to me,"

'Important?' he thought.

"Why would you exactly give this to me?"

"For protection," Cynthia said.

"Protection from what?"

"It's for some future needs."

Rhys felt confused, for future needs? Why would he need something expensive for protection? Too many questions were whirling inside his mind, that he didn't notice the expression of Cynthia .

An expression Rhys knew all too well.

It looked like she was plotting something, she only makes that face when she's going to do something that will stir trouble.

"Just accept my gift, okay?"

Cynthia just nodded. It felt like he was compelled to let the necklace go.

"Thank you." Rhys then pulled Cynthia in a hug.

Cynthia grinned and patted his back

.

"And it even goes with a dress,"

"Cynthia, you do know I'm not into crossdressing right?"

Cynthia just giggled.