Ashton

I sighed. Carter was my best friend, I'd stood by her through all the pain life had given her. When her parents had died when she was in the 4th grade, I'd held her hand throughout the funeral. And when her grandfather, her guardian, had past six months before her 18th birthday, I'd held her as she cried against my shoulder. And everytime some ignorant jerk, male or female, treated her like shit, I was there to protect her. I would give my life to keep her safe.

But now my career was interfering.

I poked my head into the bedroom and said, "Carter, I'll be back in a few hours. I have to go check in. . . someplace."

"Okay, you've got my number if you need to get ahold of me," she whispered, staring at a sheet of paper, the damned letter . . . and the irony of it burned inside of me. and not in a humorous way. I grabbed my jacket and dashed out to my car.

It took only 15 minutes to get to headquarters. It was bustling with people when I walked through the door. I clenched my jaw instinctivly when the director approached me. He had a sinister smile that overwhelmed his features and had always made artic chills go down my spine when I saw him. He wasn't a cruel man, though he was logical, a realist, and at times, a bit harsh. He had dark eyes, and a constant covering of stubble on his chin.

"Special Agent Matthews," he said warmly, placing a guiding arm around my shoulders and pulling me to his office. In less than 6 months I'd gone from being a junior agent traveling the country, to a special agent undercover in my own home town. "How's the girl?" he asked without emotion.

My thoughts instantly flew back to the petite girl sitting on my bed back home. Her wavy brown hair still tousled from sleep. Her amber colored eyes, too large for her face, almost happy. Her bright red lips twisted into the mockery of a smile she'd been passing off since she was 10. "Uh, the girl has been secured and is at my apartment. She's sleeping," I said, hating the faint blush that was creeping up my neck and into my cheeks.

The director nodded and handed me a black folder. "This is your next assignment. You must inform her of what we are, and if possible, persuay her to become an agent. Her powers are such that that they're only seen once an generation, if that. It's a pity her parents didn't get around to imparting the wisdom of her heritage to her. I always knew the old man never would. Her grandfather hated the agency, wouldn't want her near us even if it was best for her."

I nodded and said, "as you wish sir," and tucked the folder inside of my inner coat pocket, then left the agency altogether. I hated this. Hate decieving Carter. I'd known what I was all my life, known what she was since I met her the first day of kindergarten. But I'd been forbidden to tell her until now. I remembered like it was yesterday the conversation with my parents:

"Ashton, come here please," my mother said softly as I played with a Tonka truck on the floor infront of the televison. "We have something we need to tell you." She then picked me up and sat me on her lap. My father smiled and said, "My son, we are a very special type of person. We are called Chthonians. Normal people confuse us with vampires. We are immune to all disease, and heal faster than others. We have superior eyesight at night, we move faster, swifter, our psychic powers are formidable and we can shape-shift, though not till your older." he brushed a piece of hair out of my eyes, then continued, "but sadly, we burn easily in the sun, and after the age of 21, need to consume human blood. We are ruled by an agency called the Watchers. The use their powers to keep peace between ours and humans, but also to keep us in line. To remind us that we are not gods."

Carter

I ran. I ran so hard that my lungs burned. The muscles in my legs, toned as they were, still stung with over use. But the heavy foot falls behind me had yet to disappear, so I kept going. Night had fallen long ago, but it didn't bother me. For me, it was only an advantage. For my pursuers, it was a hindrance. "Carter! Over here!" I jerked my head towards the voice of my long time friend, Ashton. The lights from his motorcycle were blinding, but as soon as he was near, I hopped on the back of the bike and flipped the bird to the people following. Exhausted, I fell asleep with my face pressed against his back and the sent of worn leather permeating every inch of my being.

I groaned as the light streamed in through the window. With a quick glance around I knew I was in Ashton's apartment. He didn't stay there much, but he used the junky little place as a home base. It was also where he staid when he trampled back into the Big Easy. We'd grown up together; caused chaos all over New Orleans before we were even 8 years old. I was the girl that the little lace-clad princesses tormented for hanging out with all the guys. And Ash, well, he was the kid that was always in trouble for something. He was the class clown and loyal to a fault. He was always protecting the underdog, always protecting the innocents of the world, but when his temper went, we all knew to back off. I was the only one who was ever stupid enough to get in his way when he saw red. But the one and only time he'd hit me, at the age of 12, he cried harder than I had.

Looking down, I wore nothing than an oversized t-shirt. My backpack was sitting on a chair by the door. Where are my other clothes? I thought in panic. "Ash?" I screamed, and was answered by his head poking through the doorway.

"You okay?" he asked, concern covering his face.

"yeah, just wondering where my clothing is."

He laughed. "Carter, they were covered in dirt and blood! Did you really expect me to let you sleep like that? I threw your stuff in the wash. The stuff from your pockets is on the nightstand. Don't worry short-stuff, I'm not gonna rob you."

I rolled my eyes. "Like you even could. Or would." He ducked back out of the room and I watched him go. It had been over a year since I'd last seen him. Highschool graduation had sent us in two different directions. Ash spent his time doing odd jobs around the country, where ever he felt like spending a few months. But me, my story was weirder. I tried the whole college thing for a few months. I was good at it. The work was easy. My grandfather had left me more than enough to pay my tuition at Tulane, and I had plenty of friends. But then I noticed I was being followed. It was subtle at first. People, dressed all in black, following me at night when I took a walk. Trailing me home from parties. Watching me from the next aisle over at the market. Then they got bolder. Notes, pictures, etc, slide under the door to my dorm when I was there alone. I remember the last letter. It was the worst, and it was then that I knew I had to run. For the safety of my friends, my family, people in general. When my car had broken down the night before, knowing my followers were close behind, I'd sent a frantic phone call to Ash's voice mail. I knew my chances were slim, but if anyone could save me, it would be him. If he hadn't shown up. . . I shuddred just thinking about what could have happened.

With a sigh I reached for the faded and worn note folded on the nightstand. I'd been carrying in my back pocket since it had been slipped under my door frame less than a year ago. Silently I read the scrawled words on the page, not knowing what my next move would be.

"Hello, Carter.
I can't tell you who I am, nor the identity of my associates.
But we have a message for you. We know what you are."