Simon wanted the car close without clipping him, wanted the cop to look down at his speedometer and find the numbers her read there unbelievable. They covered another block, another one, and Simon darted to the side, leapt on top of the cars parked in parallel, and ran along them, jumping form hood to trunk, hood to trunk- thump thump thump leap thump thump thump leap, allowing the cop car to draw even.He risked a quick glance at the car- the cop had been in too much of a hurry to worry about his partner. Good. Sometimes the partner leaned out the window, trying to be a movie star, shooting at the runner as they drove. Simon could dodge bullets, that was easy, but when bystanders got hit he usually felt guilty. After all, it was just supposed to be a game.

It was his favorite game, he'd played it all the time in Lawrence. Find some cops, give them some trouble. With young hotshots it was easy, just call 'em pig, make fun of their mothers, the badge. The older ones weren't so easy- Simon had to get physical, hit them when they weren't looking, or dart behind them like the wind, take their sidearm and fire off a few shots into the sky before dropping it and racing off.

At first, when Simon was new at it, they had to chase him on foot- if they got into the squad car, he made himself scarce, but fast. Eventually he was able to stay ahead of the cars, too, so he led them on the chase, choosing side streets where it was dangerous to go more than forty. Before he left Lawrence, he was on the main thoroughfares, sixty or seventy miles per hour. It felt great.

But now he was in the big city, and the cops were a little more used to high-speed pursuit. With a runner- maybe not- but cops in the city don't late weird shit faze them until after the chase is over.

Simon risked another glance, saw the look of determination on the cop's face, figured he was going to try and ram one of the cars before Simon got to it. But he didn't want the game to be over, not yet, didn't want the cop to ruin his car before Simon was done playing with him. He leapt high, over the cop car, landing in the middle of the street and the car's other side, right into the path of an oncoming truck. Idiots- don't they hear the siren, pull over like the law says? Not in the big city, apparently. Simon sidestepped the truck neatly, so fast the the driver didn't have time to swerve, to break. One second a weirdo with bright red eyes and long black hair was in the middle of the road, another second and he was gone.

There was the avenue, a wide road where the cop could really open it up. Simon veered to the left, to make a wide turn so the cop wouldn't lose sight of him this time. There was blur, Simon barley saw it- his ribs were crushed as he was thrown into an alley, just before the avenue.

His momentum and the force of whatever had hit him threw him against the wall, breaking his nose, the bones in his left arm, his left leg. He felt his hip shatter as his clothes were shredded from scraping against the wall. He came to a stop in a bloody ball, on his back, his left leg twisted in a painful tangle, and heard the siren go off to the right, The cop hadn't even seen him hit the alley.

***

There is a beast inside you, Simon, a monster, his mother had told him. Not the woman who gave birth to him, against his will, kicking and screaming, but his real mother, the one who had awakened him. The monster is your devil and your angel. It is what holds you back and what sets you free. Your dream, your nightmare, it's what keeps you from being what you might have been, its what compels you to do things you never would have imagined doing, things that might have disgusted you once, made you hate yourself, things which make you want to do them again and again. It is your curse and your blessing, and you must learn to use that monster, Simon, just as it uses you.

His running lessons were with a train. Outside of town, in the fields. She made him race the midnight trains. At first it was easy, he could sprint past them as they left town. But further out, under the new moon, with nothing to see by except the glow in his eyes, the trains were too fast, he couldn't keep up with them.

He tried, to please her. He knew he had it in him because she could do it, she danced with the trains, stayed ahead of them, invisible, naked in the night. He tried, but his legs, his arms, his chest, it was too much to think about all at once.

Use the blood, Simon, use the blood inside you, direct it where it needs to be, breathe deep so that it can do its work. But he couldn't do it.

It's the monster, Simon. You must let it run for you. But he couldn't; whenever he felt the beast bubbling like black tar to the surface, he gagged on its awfulness, and pushed it back down.

She took him one night to the tunnel which dove beneath the highway, several miles outside of the city. Go inside, to the middle. Sit there. Do not move. She gazed into his eyes. Do not move until I tell you to, she said.

He walked in, his legs weak from the night's training. He was tired, and being tired meant being hungry. But he did a she said.

After awhile he felt the trembling of the tracks, the distant squeak and wheeze of the train as it approached. He wanted to get off the tracks, stand next to them, race the train close. But there was no room on the side, and the texture of her command kept him where he was.

The train entered the far side of the tunnel; he could feel the wind rushing before it, hot, oily. It entered his nostrils, stirred the fear in his guts, He wanted to move, but the memory of her voice, her gaze, kept him rooted to his seat.

The ground shook, and the fear coursed through his limbs, his fingers ached with it, his legs twitched, he wanted so badly to move, blood-sweat popped out on his forehead. He began to moan. The tunnel was dark, and the engineer hadn't bothered to turn on the train's light for the tunnel. But Simon could see it with the blood in his eyes, saw it as it approached. It was enormous, gigantic, it would run him down and smear him on the tracks and it was moving so fast.

Closer, Simon's bones ached from his muscles straining against them to move, but still he sat, staring with wide eyes at the train, his ears full and bleeding with the scream of the engine, it hurled closer, and still Simon sat transfixed by his own terror, as it bore down on him, thirty feet, twenty feet, ten, feet, five, one.

Now, Simon, run.

The beast leapt into him, tugged him out, he was in front of the screaming train, the walls blurry as he sprinted faster than he had ever run in his entire life, either of them, out of the tunnel and up the hill on the side. He looked down and it was an entire second before the train jumped out of the tunnel, traveling fast, very fast, too fast.

She stood over him. That is how you must do it, Simon. She gazed into his eyes., Do you understand?

Yes, mother, he said.

Good. Now we must feed.

***

The pain throbbed in his body, and Simon wanted to allow it to drain away, to forget about it. Pain was an artifact from his past, when his was mortal. But he needed the pain, she'd taught him that as well. Without the pain, Simon, you won't be able to heal yourself. Use the pain to fix what's broken, sew what's ripped, patch what's ruptured. You're no longer mortal, but you still need the frail casing which carries what's left of your soul

He concentrated on his leg first, pushing the pain into the knee, fusing the bits and pieces back together. It was white-hot, set his teeth on edge, and made the beast inside him eager to jump out and rip the throat from the first mortal he came across. But Simon held it back, concentrating on the pain, neither giving into it nor sending it away. He fixed his knee, set his shin back together, knitted the compound fracture as he melted the skin on his leg whole again. He put the pieces of his hip back together, watched with mild unease as his arm straightened from the bloody rag which had hung form his shoulder. He moved to his ribs, putting them back in their proper place, saving the easiest for last. Finally, he was whole again- mostly. His clothes were ruined, soaked in his own rotting, black blood, and there was nothing he could do about them.

Simon was tired, and being tired meant being hungry, and he was mad too. He looked over at the body the lay across the alley from him. Who ever it was, he wasn't so quick to heal. Simon crawled over to him, stared into his face.

He looked to be in his early twenties, or had been when he'd been awakened. He had the beginnings of a scruffy beard on his chin, large, bushy eyebrows, and a scarred forehead. His mouth was open and his fangs were out, and Simon was sure they were out permanently. Blood gurgled in the man's throat, and Simon watched as his ruddy face slowly turned pale as the man used the blood inside to heal himself. Simon thought about taking what blood the man had left, but decided against it- he didn't know what the rules in this city were concerning the stealing of blood from others like himself, and also the man had tackled him, too quickly for Simon to react. He sat back and waited.

Finally the man opened his eyes and sat up in one motion. Aaaah, it took me hours to get that full, he said. And now it's all gone. He looked over at Simon. How you doing. Hungry?

The blood on Simon eyes burned at the edges. Yes.

Somebody wants to meet you. She'll feed us. You up to it?

Who? Simon asked. Against his will his fangs began to come out, at the thought of being fed.

A very special woman. She's been watching you ever since you got here.

Really? Simon stared at the man, who's fangs, indeed, did not retract. Where?

Down by the highway. C'mon- I'll race ya.

Simon shrugged. Okay.

Wait- what's your name? The man asked.

Simon.

The man smiled. Well that's just perfect.

Why? What's your name?

I'm the Pieman.

Simon smirked

Simon and the Pieman trotted down a hill towards a low area beneath a collection of on ramps and exit ramps. There were several people about, many of them just sitting, staring at the sky, seeming to listen to the wind and rush of the traffic overhead.

Some of the others were playing games with soda-pop bottles. Simon watched as one shook a bottle up, then spun the cap off. The explosion of the rapidly expanding CO2 sent the cap shooting upward, as another drew his hand from his side and caught the cap before it had lifted more than five inches. They did this a few times, until the bottle ran out of gas, then threw it against a wall where it exploded with a wet smack.

Several of them eyed Simon as he walked past, and greet the Pieman by name

Why do they call you the Pieman? Simon asked.

You ever see one of those pie eating contests?

Sure.

Well, that's what they tell me it looks like when I feed.

Simon winced. He'd been taught that feeding was a sharing experience, to be savored. He glanced at the Pieman's shirt, noting the caked, dried blood on his chest. He'd assumed it was from hitting the wall in the alley. Now he knew better.

The walked to an edge of the area, where a dark figure sat holding a little girl, lifeless, her large eyes staring emptily up at the concrete overhead.

Selene? I brought the new kid. His name's Simon.

She turned, showing her face beneath her hood. Simon took a step back, his eyes wide, his hunger forgotten.

She looked just like his mother.

***

He remembered her eyes, they way she gazed at him as she taught him. His very first lesson had been almost silly in its simplicity. She held a dollar bill with two slender fingers, in front of his face. Put your fingers on either side of the bill, she said. But don't touch it. He did as he was told, staring into her eyes, her deep black eyes.

Now, when I let go, you try to catch it. Concentrate, Simon.

He concentrated. He tried to connect the position of the bill with the muscles in his fingers. When the bill fluttered, his knuckles twitched. He waited. She seemed to have the infinite patience of the ag‚d and the damned.

Suddenly, before he realized what he was doing, his fingers snapped together, and he watched with dismay as the bill fluttered to the ground. Before it hit, she snatched it out of the air.

Try it again, Simon. She held the bill up. Consume it with your eyes, Simon. Eat it. Hunger for it.

He stared at it, gave it human properties. It was a man, a fat, stinking man, with a lifeforce that pulsed beneath his skin loudly, making Simon hungry.

His fingers snapped together again, and this time he held the bill one inch below the top edge.

Good, very good.

***

After a moment, Simon realized it was only the eyes that looked the same, the all-knowing eyes. This woman's lips were fuller, her cheek bones less prominent.

The gazed at one another for a few moments. Finally she spoke. So, Simon, is it? How do you like our city?

Simon shrugged. I like it. There's more to do, more to see.

Where are you from that has less to do and see?

Lawrence.

Ah, a farmboy. She smiled at him, her teeth perfectly white.

Simon laughed. Sure.

Has the Pieman told you about our little club? She rocked the dead child in her arms.

Club? No. He just said somebody wanted to meet me. He looked at the girl. She would have been beautiful, if she could have grown up. He said you could feed us, too.

The woman raised her chin at him, exposing her neck. She held out her wrist. Certainly, Take all you like.

Simon laughed again. No thanks, I'll get it the old-fashioned way, if you've got any.

There's some homeless people who live under the ramps about two miles north of here. But be careful, and don't kill any of them. We use them when things get too hot in the city.

Don't worry, Simon said. I never eat pie anymore.

He was back fifteen minutes later, well fed, feeling calm and warm. He found Selene standing over a group of people who were constructing a make-shift doorway in the concrete of the ramp.

Sometimes, we sleep here, she said to him as he approached. But the sunlight gets through the cracks.

Aren't you afraid someone will stumble across your doorway, open it up, burn you alive?

Selene put her hands on the sides of her face, then slid them around and covered her eyes; as she did, the doorway and the crack in the cement faded from sight. Not really, she said, smiling.

Tell me, Simon said, trying to use his red eyes to see the door again, Tell me about this club of yours, What is it?

She made a raking motion across her eyes, and he could see the door again. We call it the celerity club, she said. Its a group of people like you and me who do things. a little more quickly.

Yeah? he said. Do you teach each other how to be faster?

She looked at him for a second, and again her gaze reminded him of his mother, when he'd said something stupid or wrong. You ever hear of Mensa, farmboy?

Mensa? That group for smart people?

Yes. That group for smart people. Do you know why they like to get together?

He shrugged. I guess not.

It's not to teach other anything, she said. If they want to learn something, they go back to school, or the lab, or whatever. The reason they like to get together is so they can have a conversation about the weather or politics or sex with someone who isn't a rank and file idiot.

Okay, Simon said, confused.

And the reason we hang out is because we get tired of waiting for the others to catch up. When we want to go feed, we want to do it now, not in an hour. When we want to go play with the cops, we do it now, not when we can find some.

Simon smiled.

And since we have something in common, sure, we can show each other a thing or two. But the reason we have this little club is 'cause we all go at the same speed. Understand?

I think so. Simon said. Let's say I'm interested. Then what?

She frowned at him for a second. How old are you?

What? I'm-

When were you embraced?

Embraced?

Or whatever they call it on the farm. Embraced, made, turned.

Awakened. We call it awakened.

She smirked. How nice. When were you awakened?

Fifteen years ago. My mothe- the one who awakened me turned me loose five years ago.

Selene raised her eyebrows. Really? Well, she must have been something else, to teach you that much in fifteen years. The Pieman's been trying to catch you for two weeks.

How did you know I was awakened by a woman? Simon asked.

You didn't almost say father, did you?

***

Simon, come here, I want to talk to you, she' said, and Simon could hear something in her voice. Besides how to run, dodge, heal himself, she'd been teaching him other things. How to watch, how to listen.

Simon, it's time for you to go.

Go? What do you mean, go?

I mean, I can't stay with you anymore. So you have to go.

Why? What for- why can't we be together?

Because our kind doesn't like being with others. We move alone, Simon. Someday you'll see that.

But what about the ones in town- they stay together.

They're not like you and me, Simon. They have their society, their little games and intrigues. But our kind runs with the wind, Simon. We dance under the new moon, alone, free.

Simon pouted. Then why did you awaken me? Why didn't you stay alone?

Oh Simon, someday you'll know. You'll know what its like to be damned, and then you, too, will want to awaken someone, someone who deserves more than killing hogs and milking cows. Someday you'll know that you can't be alone without someone to leave.

But it hurts, mother.

She's looked into his eyes until his tears stopped, until he looked back, unblinking. Her beautiful, black eyes. We are damned, Simon, it's supposed to hurt.

***

They stood next to the highway where it touched the ground between rises, about fifteen of them. The Pieman was behind him, with the rest, all of them watching the traffic intently.

Selene looked at him. I look like her, don't I.

Who

The one who embraced you.

Simon looked at her face, So can you read minds, too?

Minds? Why would I want to read something as confused and distorted as a mind? All of those jumbled images, all of those meaningless connections- you might as well read a palmful of sand. No, I can see it in your face. Your face betrays what's in your heart.

Simon sighed. Yes, you have the same eyes as she did.

Selene nodded. Blinking, she gestured at the highway. Okay, Simon, this is how it works. You're going out there, to play in the traffic, so we can decide of you're quick enough to run with us.

For how long?

She shrugged. Till everyone votes you in, or until you get hit.

Simon inhaled deeply, getting some night air into his blood. Okay. He started to walk into the road.

Wait! Selene grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. Have you ever driven on highway before, farmboy?

Sure- why?

What would you do if you saw some idiot standing out there, jumping in front of cars?

I don't know- try to stay out of his way, I guess.

Exactly. Now hold still. Again, she put her hands on the sides of her face, then slid them in front of her eyes. Simon felt a drowsiness come over him, then he was snapped to alertness, and everything around him seemed to glow with a dark light.

The others in the group flashed blood red eyes at him. They could still see him, anyway.

Now go, Selene said. She whispered in his ear, And make it look good.

Simon took another deep breath, and stepped out onto the road. He made his way to the middle of the highway, staying in between the cars until he got to the center lanes. The bloodbanks in their cars ignored him, not seeing him, and Simon slapped a couple of hoods as they passed, just to get in the mood.

He started with a semi which was pacing Volkswagen rabbit. Simon stepped into its path, and at the last second darted to the side in front of the VW, then dove under the trailer of the truck, out into another lane, right in front of a sports car which was overtaking them both. He nimbly leapt over the rocket, then danced back behind the truck, and in between two minivans.

The wind of their passing whipped his hair around his face, and Simon smiled a little. He zig-zagged between two lanes against the traffic for a few hundred yards, then back up again, letting the cars pass him as he stepped from bumper to bumper, slapping a window or a rooftop now and again for effect. Simon started to laugh, enjoying himself, and glanced for a split second over at the crowd at the side of the road. The dozens of red eyes started t him grimly.

Simon leapt into the air, jumping straight up from car roof to car roof, first moving up the flow of traffic, then back, diving from the top of a Jeep Cherokee, across the hood of a Cadillac, into the path of mustang, rolling on his shoulder and hopping over that back of a Honda civic. A space of empty traffic in one lane- Simon decided to play a one-sided game of chicken, standing in one spot until the car got as close as possible. It was a station wagon. At fifty feet he could see the driver, a housewife, middle-age, tired from a long day of hauling the kids around. Simon stared at her as her car hurled towards him. He let his eyesight focus in front of him, making out the wrinkles in her skin, the blackheads in her nose, the flecks of gray and white in her irises. At the last possible moment, the grill of her car only a few feet from his knees, he-

The woman's eyes snapped open, wide, as Simon jumped to the side, and he saw as he went her hands turned white as she wrenched the wheel to the side, flipping the car right into where he leapt-

The roof of the flying car smacked into him, and as he spun he heard the screeching of tires, the smash of metal, breaking glass- he flew off the side of the road,landed at the feet of the celerity club, and watched in impotent horror as Selene finished making her gesture, the raking motion across her eyes.

More smashing, squealing tires, the scream of engines as cars were launched into the air, only to crash down on top of one another. A small explosion, more metal, the ripping sound of metal being torn from its frame. Simon managed to roll over to see the wreck, fifteen, maybe twenty cars, vans, trucks, smashed into and ontop of each other, bodies strewn around the wreckage, fire, broken glass, blood, blood, blood.

The celerity club whooped and hollered as they descended on the carnage. Simon watched, forgetting the pain of his broken back and legs as they ripped into the bodies, all but beheading them as they tore at their necks. Simon could smell the hot salty blood on the night air, it made him hunger as he slowly tried to put his bones back together.

But Selene was standing over him, staring into his eyes. Let the pain go, Simon. All those people, dead, dying on the highway, you did that, let the pain go.

No. You. I saw. You made me visible again.

Let it go, Simon, she said, pressing on him now with one hand, on his chest, his heart, squeezing down on it so hard it wouldn't pulse.

No, stop, it wasn't me

Let it go, Simon, she said. Her white skin darkened, as Simon tried to avoid her gaze. But he couldn't

No, I was fast enough, it was you.

Go to sleep, Simon. Tomorrow, you'll be in the club. Go to sleep.

As the darkness filled his vision he felt her press her wrist to his mouth, tasted the cold, bitter blood of the damned as it dripped slowly into his mouth. Despite himself, he swallowed it, and let the pain run away.