When I saw her across the room the pulsing music and strobing lights faded into the background. She was cat-lithe and moved with dancer’s grace but it was her eyes that held my attention: indigo with slit scarlet pupils. I had seen eyes like that before.
Since childhood people had disagreed about the colour of my eyes: some said green, others brown. None thought my slit pupils strange and none saw the indigo that I saw in the mirror each morning. By the time I was five I had learnt that no-one wanted to hear the truth and the easiest path was to agree with my adoptive parents who always described them as hazel.
She crossed the dance floor without taking her eyes off me; shoving dancers out of the way carelessly with preternatural strength. Still holding my gaze she dropped to one knee before me and then slowly bowed her head. Her voice was strong and clear, perfectly audible over the thumping music: ‘My lord, long have your servants sought you.’
Then she looked up into my face hesitantly; searching my eyes. ‘Is it as we feared sire? Has all memory of your true nature left you?’
In that moment I remembered everything: the long centuries of my life, the ancient enmities and the fierce pride of my people. I smiled as I shrugged free of this mortal prison.