Episode 1: "Living Dead And Dialing In"

I slept through my alarm. I shoot up out of my coffin and throw what clothes I have lying around. With laser precision, I lace up my 14 hole docs and rush out the door. If I had a heartbeat, it would be pounding. Fast. When I arrive to my opening shift at The Beacon at 11:13pm, my coworker waits with a smug expression. It was Jett. I hate Jett.

"Slept through your alarm clock again, Gab?"

"My name is Gabriel," I reply coldly, as I reach for my company issued selvedge apron. Jett cocks his head up and laughs. I can see his carotid artery pulsate through his long, curly auburn hair and I just want to savagely sink my teeth into it and drain him dry. But I have more important things to do. I have to dial in my grind.

There's a crusty, dirty espresso rag thoughtlessly stuffed below the drip tray - which clearly has not been cleaned. I curse under my breath at whoever closed last night. The group heads are filthy. I have to back-flush. I'm already late as it is. The grind was set way too tight. I grip the collar of the grinder and gently loosen the burrs. Carefully, I flush the dosing chamber.

The portafilter fills with the first shot of the night. The shots pour out perfectly, and it reminds me of blood slowly dripping from a submissive young man's willing tender neck I met a week ago at the cafe. I hope he comes in tonight. It's nearing midnight and vampires are already stalking the front door. I turn on the pseudo-ironic Bauhaus record. As I hover toward the front door to unlock it Jett yells out "Wait!"

I turn around and he sheepishly looks up, "I forgot to bring down the till."

My eye twitches.

My first customer is Trey, an Elder service industry vampyre. I like Trey. I nervously lose control of the blood I'm steaming for his drink and a little sprays up and falls upon my nose. Trey laughs as he reaches over the espresso machine and wipes it off my face. As his cold fingers touch me I begin to shake. He knows I'm just a young Fledgling, trying to find my way. I pour him a "still beating heart" design in his Type B Classic Cappuccino.

Just as Trey finds a seat near the window Jett whispers, "That guy gives me the creeps."

"You work in a vampire cafe, Jett. Get over yourself."

"Well, well, well. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the coffin this morning. You're pent up. You need some release, Gab."

"It's Gabriel."

The door chimes, and before I even turn I know it's him. I can smell his gentle fragrance. He cracks a small smile as he approaches the bar. The record comes to an end and Jett busies himself looking for a new one in the back, probably picking something banal, no doubt. For now, it's just me and Stryker…