Of Blood & Sacrifice

A New Beginning

Annie drew back the curtains a half an inch for the thousandth time that day, peering down the road twelve houses down.

"I wish we could tell her. Living in there would give me the spooks…and I'm already dead," she said with a frown tugging at her eyebrows. She was speaking to Mitchell, who was perched on the slightly tattered brown couch and scanning the day's headlines in the paper. "Oh God, Mitchell, we have to tell her! I mean…what if she finds something in there or, or…sees something she shouldn't?" she extended her arms in a stressed manner.

"We can't, and even if we did, you know exactly the reaction we'd get," he said, finally breaking his gaze to look up at Annie's distressed face. "Even if we could, even if an ordinary human could understand…I still wouldn't want to tell them." Annie gave up and turned back to one of her many suitcases which were nearly full. Mitchell sat back into the couch, staring blankly at the wall, "Anyway, they've cleaned the place up, so nothing will be found and the media already spoke out to the public years ago. The chances are high that she knows about it." As much as he constantly reiterated the whole "humans won't understand" concept, deep inside he and every one of his kind were aware of how much suspicion was being placed on the supernatural. There have been too many cases in the past of vampiric teeth marks in hundreds of human necks, far too large to diagnose as a spider bite, far too large to out-question human – or rather, vampire – involvement.

The big news in town was that a young woman was moving into the flat twelve houses down from where Mitchell and Annie now resided. It was an uncomfortable and unbelievable occurrence as their best friends, George, Nina and their child, Eve, was killed in that very flat nine years ago. No one had so much as laid a foot in the place since the event, minus investigation teams and reporters. The reporters who had truly no idea what the real story was, and announced to the public that it was a homicide with an unknown motive. But Mitchell and Annie knew the real story, but it was a story to be left for another day….

Mitchell and Annie had tried and tried to convince authorities and anyone who would listen to destroy the house after they gathered evidence, but to no avail. Instead, it had been left vacant up until they decided to fix up the place last year. The deaths of their best friends, their only true friends and their child, had struck a chord that was left vibrating for a long time, but more especially for Mitchell. Just as he was beginning to move on with his life to try to feel normal again, Annie broke the news a few months ago that she'd be packing up and leaving for Australia with her new fiancé.

The truth was, Mitchell was losing everything that was once permanent in his life. When he was young and human, he lost his parents. One-hundred and fifty years ago, he lost his normal life. And ever since then he has lost control on and off. Now he would be losing Annie, and possibly his sanity. His struggle with staying clean was always a complication and a struggle, and it probably always would be. When George and Nina had Eve, Mitchell made an oath to stay clean if for no one else's sake but the baby's. However, after George's death, it had been a downhill spiral for two years. He relapsed continuously over those two years, though the one thing he did have in control was not staying local so as not to draw any more attention to him and Annie. After the two-year slump, Annie convinced him to go clean again. While he was mostly faithful to this promise, he had begun a small, short-lived stint with drugs, mainly heroin. He hadn't confessed this to Annie. Sometimes he would find a source of blood and mix the two together. He blushed to admit it, but it had always been a struggle to stay clean of blood, especially after losing his best friend. Now after hearing the news of Annie's upcoming leave, he felt the urge now more than ever for a fix. However, he was becoming keen on the drug for a slightly different reason than the other users: whenever he felt the urge to feed, the drug calmed him to a euphoric state and typically he avoided having to feed. The other problem was that he almost enjoyed the feeling of forgetfulness and a worriless day when he did take it. But it had been nearly a year since he had last touched the stuff, and as long as it was out of his reach, he wouldn't worry about it. Out of sight, out of mind.

He knew if he told Annie this now, she would cancel her entire future just to stay with him and help him just in case he relapsed in either way – blood or heroin. But he couldn't do that to her; she had finally found love – with a ghost, no less – and was making a life for herself. Perhaps this was her life's purpose, and how could he take that away from her so selfishly? She spent fifteen years of her life with him and he couldn't blame her for wanting to start a new life with new beginnings. It was hard living so close to the house where their best friends were killed and she assumed Mitchell was in a perfectly healthy state by now.

"You should meet her at least," Annie said with a chipper tone and a smile, seemingly appearing out of thin air as she so often did. Mitchell gave a small jump at her sudden reappearance and looked up at her almost bewildered.

"I should…what?" He asked, for confirmation that he heard correctly. It had been quite some time since he made new friends, and he wasn't too sure befriending the woman living where George had died was such a great idea.

"You know…be social again." Mitchell smirked and she laughed lightly, looking up at the ceiling as if there were any ideas up there.

"Right, because I've been such a socialite my whole life," he joked, letting out a laugh.

"Well, then it's time to make friends. Have fun. You can't possibly just sit around here ogling at the newspaper every day." She said, meeting Mitchell's doubtful and playfully irritated expression. "Well, maybe you technically can…but you shouldn't. It's not good for you, and it won't be good for me to be a few countries over worrying about how you're getting on." She felt defeated when he didn't respond right away, sighing. "Make a new life. It's what I'm doing…it's what George would have wanted." She said the last part in almost a whisper, feeling the threat of tears stinging her eyes. It seemed to have struck a chord with Mitchell, as he appeared in front of her suddenly. She hadn't noticed he even moved, but that was because her tears were now blinding her eyes as she felt Mitchell's arms wrap around her shoulders. She returned the hug, burying her face into his shoulder.

"It's going to be lonely without you here. Even if you are a ghost," he said as they both smiled, Annie trying to regain her composure. She pulled away a bit so she could see his face. She was beyond grateful that even after their brief romantic relationship that they could still remain best friends without any awkward nuisances dividing them. Mitchell was staring at her, trying to read her thoughts on her face. She didn't look convinced about something and he knew it was about him. He gently rested his hands on her shoulders and looked her straight in the eyes. "Listen to me. I'm going to be fine. Don't worry about me; I'm nearing a hundred and seventy-five years every single day. I'm positive I have enough life experience under my belt to take care of myself. I managed it before I met you or even George." As persuading as he made this sound, in his head he knew there was at least some lack of truth to this.

There was also a lot of truthlessness to it. Before Herrick had recruited him, he had lived on his own for a few years after his parents had passed away. After recruitment, he was on his own minus Herrick watching his every move, but he didn't fare so well being so blood-thirsty all the time. It was when he saw poor George lying defenselessly against his own kind that he decided to go clean. When they met Annie, his attempt was confirmed to be a great idea. Annie made him strive to be different. Unfortunately, there were several slip-ups, both with vampires and ordinary, innocent humans. He swore to Annie he would take these sins to his grave. For a long time, maybe even half a year, Annie wouldn't speak to him. It took a good year for her to communicate with him properly again. The massacre he was involved in took place just three months before George's death. He has since been forgiven, but his mistakes were not forgotten by either of them and he didn't expect any less. It put such a strain on their relationship that they mutually decided to stay friends, and it alleviated a lot of stress.

Annie shook her head, seeming to be convinced he was being honest. A part of her, a little spark, still felt some anxiety about him being left alone however. "Alright, enough blubbering from me! I need to get packing or me and Cedric will miss our flight." She let that sink in a moment. "Ha! Imagine that, two ghosts on an airplane. And we don't even need to buy seats!" She chuckled to herself as she headed upstairs to gather more of her clothes. Mitchell was grinning, then sighed as he pictures, for the first time, what his future in this house was going to look like in just three short hours. Even with all the collectibles and decorations, the room felt unnaturally empty.

-3 hours later-

Mitchell stopped halfway into his front door. He had just said his goodbyes to Annie and wished her and Cedric good wishes, but he didn't feel quite ready to step inside the barren house just yet. Annie's voice rang in his head about meeting new people; she made sure to drill this into his head until the very last second she was still present in this country. He closed his door and looked to his left, twelve houses down. The new neighbor girl's lights were on inside. He felt his stomach drop, imagining a full, happy life that should have been George, Nina, and Eve. He pictured having to go through this process of deciding whether he needed to keep his true self a secret, to keep another innocent human life, out of peril…or if he would spill the beans. But whenever he decided the latter, the other person wound up deceased because of him and his anxiety and fear of being ratted out. He clenched his jaw and eyes shut, taking in a deep breath as he forced his feet to move in the direction of the new neighbor. He was swamped in his own thoughts and before he realized it, he was at the stoop of 301 Boyd Street. Feeling his heart pounding, his hands dampening beneath his gloves, he took one step and knocked on the black door.