One million years of lonliness Ch 2

Chapter 2:

Pyromancer


Paris, 2005, 6:57, 19/9

It has been two days since we robbed the bank and no one has come after us yet.
We are walking through the streets of Paris, back to the hotel we are now staying in, much more expensive than the last one, fancier too, the waiters all have stupidly French accents and we get free room service, we don’t need to eat, we just do, no point our metabolism uses the food up too fast for it to be of any use.

I bought an MP3 player, so people think they’re sneaking up on me, well those who try, I even have music on it, German, the funniest of these modern languages, I have the gift of tongues, well sort of, I know the origin of all the modern languages and therefore can speak them all without much practice.

As I walk and hum softly to myself, I hear the whoosh of fire, coming from above, I turn to Michelle, she has heard it to, she nods, I kiss her and say that I’ll see her back at the hotel.

I leap onto the nearest light pole and then to halfway up a building, engaging my claws, I clime up a bit then spot a helicopter, I laugh quietly to myself and leap at the helicopter, I grab the bottom ledge and swing myself into the main body.

I pause to listen, ignoring the incredulous looks and angry shouting, I hear it again, the fire, and leap onto the nearest building, thirty feet, and clime to the top.

Squatting on the ledge, I hear the fire again and leap to the top of the building to the right, then onto the outer wall of the building in front, I clime to that roof and see the
strangest thing I’ve ever seen, in over one-million years I’ve seen a lot.

A man surrounded by police and a SWAT team, throwing fireballs that appear in the air, I assume at his behest, at the surrounding people, the man is wearing a black robe with a hood, the robe has flames stitched into the bottom.

He yells “je commande le feu,” (French for, I control the fire) and bursts into flames.

“vous brûlerez tous,” (you will all burn) he yells and columns of fire shoot from his hands and burn through three of the surrounding persons, two men and a woman.

One of the SWAT team curses foully in French, then says to his partner “Comment nous le battons, il commande le feu,” (how de we beat him, he controls fire), his partner swears and is about to shoot when his gun melts into his hands, the man screams and falls to his knees looking at his hands with astonishment.

I laugh and leap over the SWAT persons, I land next to the fire man, “vous ont besoin d'aide?” I ask, (do you need help) calmly.

He turns to me and screams in anger, “Je suis le pyromancer, je n'ai besoin d'aucune aide des humains, j'ai vécu plus longtemps que vous pouvez imaginer, Je suis né en 1645,” (I am the pyromancer, I do not need help from a human, I have lived longer than you can imagine, I was born in 1645) and tries to fry me, I dart in front of him, his eye widen.

“Je ne suis pas humain,” (I am not human) I start, “Vous aiment l'aide?,” (would you like help) I finish.

He screams and tries to fry me again, I move out of the way again and sweep his legs from under him, “Je suis le premier vampire, je suis des ans d'un million, Je ne mourrai jamais, Je vivrai pour toujours,” (I am the first vampire, I am over one million years, I will never die, I will live forever) I say, ripping the head of the nearest SWAT member to emphasise, the SWAT have stoped moving, to observe. The one remaining normal police is in the procces of running towards the fire escape, oddly relevant.

“et Rappelez-vous cette offre,” (and remember this offer) I warn, and leap of the building, to crash into the ground fifty stories below.


I arrive back at the hotel, my MP3 player back on, humming to myself, to find Michelle sitting in front of the TV, watching the news, something about charred corpses, I grin when I hear that, Michelle picks that moment to look up, “I don’t suppose this had anything to do with you did it?”

“No, no, of course not, that was my new friend, the pyromancer, he speaks French,”

“Pyromancer?” Michelle raises and eyebrow.

“His word, not mine,”

“Did you kill him?” Michelle asks.

“non, I did not, but I proved my point and that is what I set out to do, after I met him,” I say.

“So what happened?” Michelle asks, turning from the TV.

So I explain, in exact detail.

i like fire