The vampire descended into the streets of the civilized world. The moon lit everything brightly, yet to a human, the shadows were as black as pitch. The humans didn't know what they had, nor did anyone else for that matter, except Mithias. Faster than the speed of perception, between frames of the artificial eye, Mithias zipped through the darkness into the museum through a lazily closing back door. He hadn't come for blood, although there would be little convincing of that to the now dead janitor as he lay bloodless on the floor. Red eyes glowing eerily, Mithias was giddy with excitement as he planned his stealth run through the wings of the stuffy old museum. He kept wary of the cameras, picking up on each one by the supersonic hum of its electronics. Finally, he came upon what he sought. It was locked up tightly in a small steel chest behind glass doors. They would know it was missing, so breaking the glass and setting off the alarms really wouldn't change matters any. The doors would lock, but a vampire would escape. It's too bad all the werewolves were away at a meeting tonight. 

The alarms had been ringing for five whole minutes before any authorities could arrive on scene, and it was another good ten before anybody found a body. The chest with the artifact was gone.