The Helsing was nearby; Gareth could sense it. He felt his excitement build. After all this time, all this searching ... soon, it would be over. And his people would finally be safe. Safe for all time.
Gareth moved through the city streets, keeping to the shadows, passing among the humans, a vision glimpsed out of the corner of the eye, soon forgotten, like a half-remembered dream which vanished upon waking. He was careful to avoid detection by humans, but not because of the Bloodborn desire to remain hidden at all costs. In truth, the seclusion his people valued so much meant little to him for, as far as he was concerned, the warm ones had seen through the Bloodborn's deception long ago--when the Helsing first appeared.
No, he avoided human eyes for fear that the Helsing might see through them and realize it was being hunted. And Gareth couldn't afford that. Not if his people were to survive.
Gareth had tracked his quarry to a city in the American South, one whose name recalled a near-mythical place of glory, a seat of power for ancient Egyptian kings. The streets, buildings, people, the very air all seemed vaguely familiar to him; had he hunted here before? He couldn't remember. After four centuries of life--not so long for one of the Bloodborn, but not so young, really, either--places and names tended to blur. But otherwise, his mind was sharp, his thoughts ordered and clear, and focused on a single goal: the destruction of his enemy.
And while these streets were hardly gilded with Pharaohs' gold, they would make as good a place as any to run his prey to ground. And Gareth was confident he would have a chance to do so tonight, for the Helsing was here, in this city, somewhere close ...
And then Gareth thought he spotted him, walking on the opposite side of the street. Alone. Gareth stopped and stared intently at the man. There was nothing about this particular human to mark him as the Helsing, at least not visually. He was just a man, no more or less remarkable than any other. But there was something about how he carried himself, something about the subtle way other humans moved out of his path, as if subconsciously recognizing the true nature of this special being who walked in their midst.
If Gareth had been human, he might've felt his pulse speed up in anticipation, and, yes, more than a little fear.
But he wasn't human, and his body didn't react at all as he stepped into the street and hurriedly crossed to the other side. The hunt, at long last, was on.
He prayed to all the Lords of Darkness for success.
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