The air was holding its breath. That's what it felt like. It felt like some great set of eyes was sweeping around, and nothing wanted to draw attention to itself. She shivered, wrapping her arms around her body as she hurried towards her house. How did I let her convince me to stay out so late? It's so dark. She stopped, turning to look behind her. The darkness was thick with menace, a warm breath of hate seemed to flow from it.
She dropped all signs of ignorance and ran.

A set of red eyes blinked, and then disappeared. He walked into the light from a streetlamp, the darkness fading behind him. So the little witch isn't as stupid as she tried to act. I wonder why she even tried?
He chuckled, putting his hands in his pockets. There was so much to this world that had changed. Perhaps he would remember not to sleep so long, when he again decided to rest. Humanity had grown. and its belief in the creatures of both light and dark had diminished to almost nothing. It was perfect.
He wandered down a busy street, noting how the humans barely glanced around themselves. Gone was the wariness all humans moving about at night had once had. Gone were the superstitions and whispers of an evil in the dark; of the angels that came with divine fire to protect them.
It was refreshing, to move about in such a sea of warm humanity and not be noticed. To blend in so perfectly, to watch his prey from a mere foot away and not worry about someone noticing.
Well. almost no one. He flicked his eyes to the left, watching one of those witches flick eyes at him. She was young, wouldn't even notice if he stared at her from shadows. Not like the sweet innocent one from before. He grinned. Here where he was in the light, no one of witch blood would consider him normal. The weakest might consider him human, but an odd one. Perhaps a practitioner of strange powers, but still human.
This one knew better. Here he was in the light, and he was not trying to hide. He wasn't trying to blend in, he was simply walking in the open. But she was no threat. She did not have the aura of a Hunter. She did not seem to want anything to do with him, now that she had spotted him. He shrugged. If all of them would be like that, it would have been so much easier before.
But he had survived. Unlike so many of his Kindred, he had survived their wars and Hunts. He had slept beneath the earth for over three hundred years. And in a mere three hundred years, humanity had forgotten everything about him save myth and fantastical stories. They still believed in that old garlic nonsense, still thought that any idiot waving a cross could drive him back.
He smiled, thinking of a priest that had been nearby when he awoke. No, not even the so-called priest had been able to drive him back. Not even a flicker of fear. Faith was as rare as truth, it seemed. That suited him just fine - made getting rid of bodies that much easier.