Vampires eat humans. In recent history, it has become necessary for the two to come to a kind of unpeaceful coexistence. There are those, however, who are unsatisfied with this situation and seek to bring about a permanent accord, an armistice of species, and they're not asking.
She is young tonight. Looks barely twenty and not old enough to be sitting alone in a bar. She has her back to me and is playing with a curl, upsetting her ebony mane and sending a tantalising aroma in my direction. My throat is itching with thirst and the urge to slip into her neighbouring seat, lean over her neck and feel the delicious flavour of her life's blood is compelling. But the messiness such an action would cause in such a peopled location is an unnecessary complication. Besides which, it is a quirk of mine that I prefer to know something about my food, where it came from, what it likes, etc, before I sample it. It's just more comfortable. It's also more of a challenge.
Most humans have a natural aversion to vampires. It's a sensible fear, to be frightened of the monster at the very top of the food chain - especially when said monster's diet is restricted entirely to your own species. Sure, there are the weirdos who try to abstain from human blood, but they can't resist it for long. It's addictive yet nutritious, and I bet there aren't many things that fall into both those categories. Myself, I prefer female blood, young and - if I'm lucky - well educated. (I can't really explain why the latter makes such a difference, I mean, I'll take high school education, but there's almost an extra layer of flavour that comes from further study. Could be stress, libraries, bad posture, I don't know, but whatever it is, it's delicious.) And I know it's cliche, the big bad vampire thirsting after fresh, young womens' blood, but I can't help it. Maybe that's another reason I like to talk to my food - an unconscious desire to break through the image of "nasty old vampire". Not that I'm all that old. Ninety-odd years, though I was dead before my twenty-seventh birthday. But it must be said that ninety-odd years seducing girls has given me a bit of an edge over their natural aversion. Exhibit A.
I pick up the glass of scotch that I have no intention of drinking and make an effort to approach her slowly. I leave one seat between us on the bench - don't want to make her uncomfortable too soon. I pretend to take a sip and lower the glass, rolling it between my palms. She is looking at me out of the corner of her eyes. It's a strange conundrum, the relationship between humans and vampires. They are attracted by our beauty and yet instinctively afraid of us. I glance at her briefly, yet obtrusively enough that she must now think me interested but shy. She drains her glass and sets it down, biting her lip. Practically on cue, she turns her head and shoots me a look from beneath lowered lids. Definitely an invitation. But I adhere to the niceties. She accepts the offer of another drink. I don't even notice what she's drinking. My own drink is also forgotten. Well, the alcoholic one, at least. Introductions are next.
I am William - at least for tonight - and she's Mary. I don't know why I don't give them my real name. It's not like it would matter. This conversation will be Mary's last. She's a pretty one, definitely. Half Caucasian-half Asian by the looks of it. She's slim but of average height. Her hair is a fray of wild curls, the blackest black, striking against her pale skin and equally dark, slightly angled eyes. If there's one thing I've learned in nearly a century of eating humans, it's that the pretty ones are the sweetest. Their blood slips smoothly down your throat - but it's the smart ones that leave you heady. The allure of a combination thereof...
I sometimes wonder if other vampires have this notion of categorization among the human species. Or if, to their uneducated palette, all humans taste roughly similar. I've never really stuck around other vampires long enough to ask. I had a partner briefly in the fifties, but she became much too familiar and I had to leave her in Barcelona. As a vampire, I've never really desired another vampire. I only lust for human blood.
A thirst which is becoming nearly overwhelming at the moment. My mouth prattles on autopilot; I've learned that she's an English teacher with another degree in psychology, that she takes Tai Chi on the weekends, and that she enjoys flying kites and macrame. The latter being a pass-time which I had hoped dead since the seventies. She also tries to spend as much time as possible with her mother, who is in a care home and suffering from alzheimer's. I smile as though I'm paying attention, give her the Ivy league lawyer schpiel and consider leading her away immediately. She'd probably come without hesitation. It's kind of a gift I have; people find themselves loose of inhibitions after a few minutes in my presence. She might wonder, briefly, why she's following a complete stranger - or nearly - into a dark alley, but a larger part of her is under the influence of both alcohol and my unusual ability.
Now, in fairness, I'm usually a lot more attentive to my victims memoirs. But this girl just smells amazing. Imagine the most delicious thing you've ever tasted, increase the delicious factor two-fold, and then make it a smell so strong that every breath you take is saturated with it. Pretty damn hard to ignore in favour of small talk.
The part of me which is miraculously still resisting tearing her throat out tells her that I was born a Capricorn. This is also untrue. But in return she tells me that she's always wanted to go to France. It's her dream, she says, to open a bakery. I don't know how these two confessions are related, and am far beyond caring. Almost a century of practice asks Mary smoothly if she'd like to take our conversation somewhere more intimate. She blushes but accepts. The blood rushing to her cheeks makes my throat ache. She shoulders her bag and brushes her hair off her shoulder, dousing me with another whiff of her scent. I clench my jaw and stop breathing. This is the strongest temptation I've felt since I was a newborn. Every fiber of my being wants to bury my face in the crook of her neck, spectators be damned.
I lead her lightly by the elbow, only taking a breath to speak when I'm outside the bar and sure of less saturation in the air.
"Come with me," I whisper, and she does, naive little thing. I charge the autopilot to say something charming and a little naughty and she giggles, taking my arm of her own volition. Unfortunately this added closeness means that I have to stop breathing again. It's not necessary for survival, true, but it's usually useful to be able to smell, and talking comes in handy.
A few blocks from the bar I reach my intended destination. A short alley, more alcove than path, and blessedly secluded. I take a quick breath, stopping the process short, since I don't need that much air for my intended sentence.
"In here," I say, and take her hand, leading her into the darkness. Mary hesitates. No surprise, fear of dark, enclosed spaces is another instinctual fear for humans. But like their fear of vampires, it can be overcome.
I steel myself and lean over her, my lips brushing her ear. "Please? Just for a minute."
And just like that, her resolve disappears. She's breathless now. Well that makes two of us. Hers, though, is likely the thrill of attraction tinged with that of fear. Mine is a necessity - but not for long.
Two steps, three. Ten paces into the alleyway, I stop and inhale, letting my instincts take over. I should be at least a day before someone finds the corpse. My forearm is crushing her windpipe. I don't remember doing that, but it doesn't really matter. I'm no longer interested in playing the gentleman. A growl escapes and I take one last whiff of her, savouring the aroma.
"Smell something you like?" Mary's last words. Then confusion pricks its way through my frenzied blood lust. Humans don't talk while a vampire is crushing their windpipe. My teeth, halfway through a biting motion, hesitate. Two cool fingers reach up and snap my jaws shut. Cool? Nothing should feel cold to a vampire. Even the arctic ocean is bathtub temperature.
"Just hold on a moment, will you?" She firmly pushes my arm away. Something else no human should be able to do. Mary pauses, holding up her finger in indication that she'll only be a moment, and rummages around in her purse. My burning need to bite her hasn't faded, but it's taken second place to my curiosity about the only human to ever have enough presence of mind to postpone their immediate death. She brings out a little spray bottle and, grasping my chin and pulling down again, she compresses her finger twice. It tastes...minty.
"There we go. Halitosis is everyone's problem. Now, please continue." Mary sweeps her hair back and pulls it to one side, leaving her throat completely bare. She even obligingly tilts her head at the right angle. What the hell? Is she one of those humans obsessed with vampires? Taken in by the romance? How did she know? There's a small smile playing around her lips, and her black eyes are staring at me in fear... Wait. Is she frightened? It's hard to distinguish the iris from the pupil in her obsidian gaze, but she looks almost triumphant. Does she really want to be bitten? That's a little...sick.
I bare my teeth once more and lean in, but I'm somehow off balance, and I stumble. Her arms reach out to steady me, and I find that I don't have the strength to resist. What's happening to me? I feel drowsy in a way I have not since I was human, and can vaguely remember what it is like to lose consciousness. I feel something hard under me, and guess she must have lowered me to the ground, although all I can see is her face. So starkly pale in this half-light, framed by a dark halo. She looks like the angel of death.
"Don't worry," her voice says, "you're not lucky enough to be dying. You're only poisoned. Part sedative part...surprise. You may find your life a little different from now on, but, well..." she pauses, sounding pleased. All I can see now is her face, the blackness encroaching on my vision has swallowed her hair. I focus on her mouth as the shadows gain more ground and the sounds from the street fade to silence. Barely able to see it, I think her lips say: "I hear bear is tasty." A spike of confusion and doubt shoots through the fog before it swallows me whole and then there is no more.
Thoughts?