Author's Note: Behold- new fic! This one was inspired by a prompt from burninbushytail over on Tumblr who asked for a Cophine vampire, forbidden love-esque fic. I typically avoid vampire stuff since Twilight ruined it for me, but I have to say, I've been having a lot of fun with this one. It's a nice change of pace from the soul-crushing nature of Train Under Water :P It isn't exactly super fluffy, but I promise it won't be nearly as bad as TUW. Just a little dark (and sometimes violent and/or smutty) fun. Anyway, this first chapter kinda works more as a prologue than anything- the actual plot will kick in in the next chapter. Hope you all enjoy and let me know what you think :)
The first thing you should know is that I try not to make a habit of feeding off children.
However, sometimes the hunger nags and food is scarce. On such a night, I find myself out wandering the quiet streets in search of scraps and regretting my choice to settle in such an uneventful little town. Though the quietness is what initially attracted me to such a place, it only makes the hunt more difficult; my options are few, any choice I make ripe with the threat of suspicion. I've been able to avoid detection until now by surviving mostly on the (self-procured) charity of the local blood bank, though the recent blood shortage has forced me out into the darkness again and this time, I've made the horrible mistake of waiting too long between meals. The bulk of my god-like strength has left me for the most part and I know that I must choose my next meal carefully, lest they provide too much of a challenge for me in my weakened state.
It seems almost serendipitous when I stumble upon the most gloriously mundane specimen that has ever captured my attention.
He's an awkward boy with a pair of large glasses settled upon the bridge of his nose and a set of large teeth that don't quite fit his face just yet. His limbs dangle from his body like overgrown branches and all I can think of is how easy it would be to disassemble him even in my frailness, to pick him apart piece-by-piece like a doll I might have once played with. In my experience, teenage boys are perhaps the most foul-tasting of all prospects, but I'm hardly in a position to be picky.
So I wait.
I watch him disappear into a house and from the shadows, I begin my stake out. I feel the hunger pangs begin to radiate down into my bones and my fangs begin to throb beneath the force of my will, which is barely strong enough to restrain them for the time being. The minutes bleed into hours, the moon climbs a little higher in the sky and I wonder if perhaps I should abandon my target altogether in search of another. Then again, how likely am I to find another at such a time?
My patience pays off when the scrawny boy finally emerges from the house once again and I watch him with eyes dripping black as he storms away, a scowl on his face. My senses are on high alert again and I trail behind him, close enough not to lose sight but far enough away for my presence to remain a secret as I cling to the shadows for coverage.
"Hey, Scott! Wait up!"
The voice catches me off guard and I halt my pursuit, backing off even farther away and ducking behind a nearby tree to avoid being seen by the newcomer. Whoever it is, they don't seem to notice me as their attention is focused solely on the lanky boy. Short legs carry them in a quick burst all the way over to where he's stopped to wait as per their request. I squint, my eyes adjusting to take in the newcomer.
The first time I see her, it's fire.
Not the punishing kind I've come to fear— the kind that comes intwined with the sun's rays or the touch of a crucifix— but the kind that shines its light upon you and breathes life back into the deepest parts of me that I long since believed were dead. Dormant lungs suddenly feel filled to the brim with the sweet, lead-like heaviness of air they've so long been denied and when I close my eyes and listen very closely, I can almost hear my phantom heartbeat slamming in my apt ears. My tongue quickly darts from my mouth and swipes over my lips to wet them in anticipation— though of what, I'm uncertain.
"Geez. I don't understand why you're so butt-hurt about this," she speaks.
"You made me look bad in front of them," he grumbles, folding his arms over his chest and glowering down at her.
Instead of recoiling in fear or guilt, she meets his displeasure with a cheeky grin and it's enough to summon a smirk upon my pale face, her boldness stirring something inside.
"Please. You hardly need my help in that department."
I'm partially inclined to laugh and it's strange. I can't remember the last time a human has been able to elicit laughter from these lips, let alone such a tiny one. I ultimately resist the urge, afraid my laughter might alert them to my presence. This "Scott" turns his back on the tiny girl and continues to storm away from her, his displeasure still a fixture upon his face.
"I'm never inviting you again," he spits.
She's chasing after him again and I can't imagine why she would even bother, why she would waste her time with such a creature. Surely she has much better things to do. I can tell from her scent that there's no chance this boy is her lover, though my nose is hardly necessary when the eyes can so plainly see a sibling-like dynamic.
"Okay, okay! I'm sorry, dude," she apologizes, catching up to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. "I can't help it if I'm, like, amazing."
He releases a deep, defeated sigh, his shoulders slumping forward and body deflating.
"They think I'm a total loser."
She slides herself right next to him and they walk together at a leisurely pace as I follow behind, the couple still ignorant of my existence.
"We just spent three hours playing Rune Wars with a bunch of college dudes in a basement," she says flatly. "We're all losers, man."
He perks up slightly, much like a puppy at the sight of his master. An eager smile returns to his features and he nods.
"Yeah. I guess you're sorta right."
They continue to walk along and I continue to follow them, though I'm not sure why; clearly any hope I had of feeding on the boy has been dashed by the tiny girl's appearance. The hunger in my stomach tells me to move on, to find myself another meal and quickly, but I can't pull myself away. I follow them all the way to a quaint-looking house that stands on a silent, unassuming street with a dozen of its twins all lined up and facing each other in two neat rows.
"Don't forget to finish your lab report. It's due Tuesday, you know," she reminds him. "I don't wanna get a bad mark because of you."
"I won't. It's pretty much done. I just have to…"
He continues rambling on about their schoolwork but his words fade into the background as she turns her body to face me. I become very still from the bushes, not even daring to blink as she stares right at me, into me. For a moment I wonder if she can see me. It doesn't seem possible; I've been so quiet, so careful.
"Do you feel that?" she asks, interrupting him.
He stops himself, shooting her a confused look.
"Feel what?"
She narrows her eyes in my direction and my canines begin to throb once agin, threatening to break free from their fleshy sheath. My fists tighten into glass balls and my instincts scream "pounce," though something else keeps my feet tethered to the earth beneath them.
"Nevermind."
She reluctantly turns away and if my lungs had breath, they'd expel a sigh of relief.
"You're freaking me out," Scott tells her.
"I'm freaking myself out," she mumbles.
The two say their goodbyes and Scott disappears into the house. She doesn't follow in after him. Instead, she turns and heads down the row of houses with a contemplative look upon her face. I suddenly find myself wondering exactly what it is she's thinking, having to know every thought that occupies that sharp, young mind of hers. My curiosity wins out over my hunger and I follow, being cautious to keep even more space between us as her senses appear to be heightened. She journeys into a house at the very end of the street and I find cover in the large fir tree along the side of it.
From there, I wait.
A light flicks on, shining through the window which faces my tree and I see her slip into the room— her bedroom. It's moments like these that I'm grateful for my enhanced vision, the kind that lets me gaze through the darkness with ease and magnify whatever sight my eyes happen upon. I see her with perfect clarity, I watch her dig through her drawer in search of something and fall back onto her bed once she's found her prize. She places the joint between her lips and reaches over to her nightstand to retrieve a red lighter, lighting the end of it and taking a long drag. She holds it in for as long as she can before expelling it with a few heavy coughs.
I wonder what it feels like.
The burn of smoke filling lungs, the sweet, drug-induced haze that slips over the mind. I've never tried it myself— it was never a thing in my lifetime and I haven't found myself tempted in the many years since, but as I watch the joint dangle and burn idly between her lips, I'm suddenly curious, suddenly tempted.
I lean back against the tree's trunk, allowing it to support me as I continue to watch. Just a little while longer, I tell myself. The moon won't stay high forever and I still need to feed before the night is over. But for now, I watch her with a foreign heat tickling at the corners of my lips.
She's upset today.
I can tell by the rigidness in her body, the weight in her steps as she drags herself into her bedroom and closes the door behind her. I've come to learn these things in the weeks I've been observing her, come to detect the subtle changes in her demeanour. What's got you so bothered? I wonder. Who's upset you? Of course, these are questions I cannot ask her myself, so I allow my keen observational skills to provide me with an answer.
The culprit is a teacher, one who's given her an insufficient mark. I know how she stresses about her grades, especially with college applications. I considering paying him a visit, though at the end of the day, a disembowelled educator will do little to advance her own academic career, only satiate my desire for justice. She's a most intelligent little human, eager to learn and engage with the world around her. I'm reminded of my own lust for life at that age, my own sense of wonder which I've since shed like snakeskin. When you've lived as long as I have, when you've seen as much as I have, there is little wonder left. You must find it in the strangest places, like a tiny human with a gleaming smile and a wit too quick for her own good.
I've come to learn that she hates it when she doesn't get her way. It's just another thing we have in common. I smile and watch her turn on her stereo system. Loud, pulsating music fills the room and I can feel the bass pounding all the way from where I lurk. I can't say I really understand her taste in music, although it does suit her. There's a steady ebb and flow, a sensuality that speaks to her own, fluid movements. I don't think I've ever seen a human move quite the same way and my eyes flicker as I watch her saunter over towards the window, towards me. I become eerily still, waiting to see if I've been discovered. I'm relieved when I realize she's merely opening her window for ventilation. She sits upon the windowsill, joint between her fingers as she blows steady puffs of smoke into the night sky and stares pensively at the moon. It would be too easy for me to leap forward and make my presence known and there's a part of me that considers it, but I ultimately choose to linger in my cloak of night and branches.
One day, when her parents are gone, she brings a girl home.
Her name is Emi. She's a student at the local university and a year older than Cosima. Sometimes, Cosima lies about going to Scott's house to play her game and instead ventures to whatever bar or basement the raven-haired girl is playing in. I can certainly see the appeal— Emi is rebellious and open, daring and explosive. She walks with a swagger and speaks with bravado, though not the endearing kind that Cosima possesses. No. Hers is presumptuous and much too abrasive for my taste. The second I lay eyes upon her, my contempt for the girl only grows. Perhaps it's the smell which churns my stomach and leaves a bitter taste in my mouth— the scent of arousal is strong, too strong for my liking. They sit on Cosima's bed, conversing, and as I watch them giggle at each other's stories, watch them exchange heated yet tentative glances, I have half a mind to turn away and leave. When Emi leans over and presses her lips to Cosima's, my nostrils flare and my eyes burn red. I immediately shoot to attention, tempted to burst through the window to put a stop to it. I quickly wrack my mind for a less-invasive solution to this problem, my eyes scanning the surrounding area.
The idea comes to me quickly and I dart around to the back of the house where a large maple tree is waiting. I spring halfway up the tree with ease, clinging to the trunk for support. With my arms locked securely around the trunk, pure power surges through me and my muscles tighten, ripping the tree in half with a loud crack and relatively little effort on my part. Staring below, I toss the top half to the ground and watch as it lands upon the patio, crushing the deck and patio furniture. I move quickly, certain that the noise will disrupt the girls and draw their attention. Sure enough, only moments later, they're both standing in the doorway.
"Holy fucking shit!" Cosima blurts, her eyes wide and mouth gaping. "What the hell happened?"
Emi cautiously opens the sliding glass door to survey the damage. There isn't much space for her to maneuver as she squints through the darkness over to the remains of the maple tree, now nothing more than a stump.
"That's weird," she remarks. "I mean, sometimes this can happen when lightning strikes or whatever."
"Did you see any lightning?" Cosima counters. "We haven't had a storm in weeks."
"I know."
Cosima expels an exasperated sigh.
"I guess I should try to clean this up."
"You gonna move a tree on your own, Xena?" Emi teases.
Cosima steps out onto the patio, carefully tiptoeing around the broken glass and planks of wood.
"Well, my parents are totally gonna bug when they see this. I should, like, try to clean up some of the broken glass at least," she concludes.
Emi nods.
"Do you want any help?"
"Nah, it's fine. You should probably take off," Cosima dismisses her. "I don't wanna bore you. Besides, you aren't supposed to be here, either. They'll be twice as pissed if they find out the patio's trashed and I'm inviting girls over without their permission."
I smirk, pleased at my success.
"Girls? Plural?" Emi asks with an arched brow.
Cosima grins, her shoulders shrugging.
"You know me. Always the lady-killer."
Emi smirks, stepping even closer and replacing my own smirk with a scowl. She pulls Cosima in closely and steals a heavy kiss from her, her undeserving tongue plundering the brunette's mouth. When she finally pulls away, Cosima is left dazed and breathless.
"I'll catch you later, babe," Emi whispers huskily.
She leaves Cosima standing like a gaping fool while she slides back through the glass door and into the house, heading for the front door. As if on cue, I'm already on the move, moving along the side of the house in a flash and prepared to meet her as soon as she steps through the front door. She comes creeping through the door and down the porch steps, not noticing me at first. As soon as she does, I can almost hear her heart stop in her chest.
"Jesus!" she exclaims, stumbling back in surprise. "You scared the shit out of me!"
She's just barely taller than Cosima but I still tower over her, my face cold and impervious as I attempt to intimidate her, to appear as menacing as possible. This is quite difficult for me, as my physical appearance alone does nothing to convey the creature which lurks beneath. I don't like to think of myself as vain, but while I was living, I always attracted the attention of men, was always told I would make the most beautiful bride. Strangely enough, since my transformation, I seem to only attract more attention. I was always pale but in death, my skin has taken on a marble tone which only serves to emphasize the redness of my lips and the deep hazel of my eyes. My hair frames my face with golden curls, giving me a much softer appearance which is quite misleading. From a single glance, no one would ever suspect the violence I'm capable of.
Emi certainly doesn't.
She eyes me cautiously, aware that something is amiss though unable to place it.
"What is it? What do you want?" she asks, waiting for me to state my purpose. "Who are you?"
I step closer to her, hazel eyes locking with brown ones which slowly dilate as she becomes ensnared in my trap. I command her full attention, the young musician unable to look away as she waits for me to speak.
"You're going to go home," I instruct, my eyes never leaving hers, my tone deep and rigid. "You're going to go to bed. And when you wake up in the morning, you'll forget all about Cosima."
I take one last step, removing the space between us as I hold her gaze, both of us unblinking. It would be so easy for me to lean forward— to bury my teeth in the softness of her neck which houses her hot, racing pulse— but discretion has served me well for so many years and I'm not willing to oust myself just to bathe in the satisfaction of her blood.
"You won't call her anymore. You won't respond to her messages," I continue. "In fact, the very mention of her name repulses you. Do you understand?"
She nods slowly. When I finally break her gaze, she breathes deeply once again and blinks multiple times, attempting to adjust to my newfound influence. And then she turns and leaves, presumably heading home, though it's hardly my concern.
A satisfied smile slips out.
I'm fully aware of the line I've crossed, but I can hardly bring myself to care. After time spent observing her, I know this Emi will bring nothing but trouble to Cosima. Whatever heartbreak the cheeky girl might experience, I'm certain it will only be temporary and fade into the background with time. If she has any hope of pursuing her dreams, of becoming a respected scientist, she'll have to keep her focus and study hard. Such distractions will only get in the way of her and the world, and I intend for her to have it all.
It isn't long before summer is upon us and even quicker than it appears does it bleed into the fall once more. With the nights cut short, I don't get as much time with her as I would like, but I suppose it can't be helped. She's packing up her room, deciding what she will take with her as she ventures out into the world on her own, university-bound and bursting with nerves. Childish comforts are left behind— she needs to make a big impression, she needs to make a transition. I watch her with a smile as she spends her final night at home tightly packing her bags and boxes with all that she can fit.
She sleeps uneasily that night, equal parts anxious and excited.
I return to my own bed just before morning breaks and I find myself as anxious as the soon-to-be-completely-independent Cosima. In mere hours, she'll be gone. In mere hours, the strange focus of these many past months will be so many miles away, out of my icy grasp and keen eyes. I have no doubt that she'll succeed on her own, but that isn't what has me in such a state.
What will I do once Cosima is gone?
Surely I had a life before her, but can I really go back to that? Do I really want to? What did that life consist of? A handful of months is like the blink of an eye for someone as old as me and yet, I can't seem to remember anything substantial before I accidentally stumbled upon her. I tightly grip my bedsheets, clutching them to my cold body.
What if I…?
I spring up in my bed, filled with a newfound vigour.
What's really keeping me in this place? What's tying me down? I've no family to speak of and I haven't had a job in years, my last one providing me with more than sufficient compensation. Must I really go back to nights spent cooped up alone with a book and a bottle of wine? Or watching strangers live lives I can never live myself?
It's decided.
I kick the sheets from my body and find my feet once more. I don't have very many possessions, so packing them up should prove to be an easy trial to overcome.
Perhaps this is a foolish decision.
Perhaps it's an uncharacteristically naive one.
But what do I really have to lose?