There's a reason they call Chicago the windy city. The trees trembled, shivering in the cold autumn breeze. The few people still out in the streets formed poses of hunchbacks, their hands shoved deep in their pockets as they shuffled their way home. Leaves were strewn across the ground, an unrealistic number compared to the scarce trees of the concrete playground.
A single soul was enjoying the bitter cold. Several stories above the pavement, a girl leaned on the fence of a fire escape. Her hair, wild and curly, blew in a flurry around and in her face. A piece of hair was stuck to her dark red lips, but she didn't bother moving it. Her skin was adorned with goosebumps, bare as it was, but she barely felt the cold. She just needed a break.
The window behind her opened with a squeak, and a half-naked man stepped outside. He placed his arms around the girl's waist, his hands finding her hipbones. His chest was cold against her back, as cold as the metal clutched in her hands.
"C'mon babe, it's freezing out here," he whispered in her ear, his breath as cold as the air outside.
"I like it," she said, holding onto his forearms. With a single move, she pushed his arms away and stepped up onto the ladder of the fire escape.
The man sighed. "Babe-"
"Don't. I'm not in the mood, James." The girl sat down on the ladder, pulling her arms around herself. Perhaps the wind was getting to her.
The man, James, glowered. "Lorna, come on."
"Or what?" she asked loudly, taunting him. "You'll tell your 'friends'? You know they won't be able to find me. And if they do, I can protect myself."
There was an unreadable glint in James' eyes. For a moment, it looked like fury. Then it looked like glee. But perhaps not.
"All I'm asking is-"
"And all I'm saying is no."
James put his hands up in defeat. "Fine, have it your way. Have fun leaving. You won't get through the apartment, I can guarantee that." He gave her a final glare, then climbed back through the window. The curtains were drawn, covering the glass.
Lorna shivered. The way his hands had felt cold and clammy against her skin, his eerily still chest… she couldn't get out of her head. She had liked James, but ever since she slept with him, it was like that was all he cared about. All he wanted. Lorna didn't have anything against that sort of relationship. She had been with guys who just wanted her for her body, and she felt the same towards them.
But this was different. Lorna had thought she could trust him. That she had found the all-holy and sanctified "one".
She stood with a heavy sigh. She had left her jeans in the apartment, leaving her in nothing but James' t-shirt.
"Shit," she muttered, throwing a leg over the railing. Lorna scuttled down the ladder of the fire escape, grateful that James lived on the fourth floor, and not the twelfth. She pulled the t-shirt tight as she could across her shoulders, and began the walk home.
Well, kind of home.
Lorna shied away from the darker alleyways. It wasn't that she was afraid… She had lived in Chicago all of her life. She knew it the way she knew how to find foundation that would match her skin, how to braid her hair without having a mother to show her. Experience, and a lot of trial and error.
These alleys were unfamiliar, and Lorna knew James was tight with a lot of the local gang members. He never explicitly told her, but she figured he was a member, or at least as close as he could be without the exaggerated blood pacts. Her stomach twisted.
"Hey baby," the voice seemed to come from nowhere. Lorna turned quickly, unable to hide her shock. Standing behind her was a tall, lanky boy, his skin almost translucent under the dank streetlight.
"Leave me alone," Lorna growled, turning back around. She marched towards the main road, but in the blink of an eye, the boy was in front of her once more.
"Now, that's no way to talk to a man," he reached towards her, and she hit his arms away as hard as she could. The pain didn't seem to register.
"I'm here to help," he moved quickly, so fast that Lorna couldn't fight him. Suddenly, she was thrown over his shoulder.
"Let go!" Lorna kicked viciously, knowing that she hit his face more than once. Her feet made solid contact, and the man grunted. She could feel a sticky substance dripping down her toes.
Lorna kept kicking, hitting, shoving, squirming, shouting, but to no avail. It was as if the man were made of steel.
He carried her into a dark alley, and she heard more voices. Men, talking in low tones. She thought she heard a few female voices, but she wasn't sure. Either way, Lorna couldn't see where the sickly man was taking her.
"Put! Me! Do-AGH!" Lorna was cut off as the man threw her to the ground with a shocking amount of force. She gasped for air, her lungs tight and near to burst. The pavement cut her skin, and warm blood spilled down her thighs.
In the dim light, Lorna couldn't make out the faces looming above her. They were clothed in dark colors, and all she could do was tremble before her attackers.
"She's so young, look at her!" A crooning female voice spoke.
"Look at all of that blood," a different voice spoke with disturbing hunger.
"Now, let's not get too carried away. Remember the job?"
"Oh, pish posh, I'm starving."
"She's a perfect candidate."
"You know what he said."
"Let's get to it, then, before he comes."
"Hey! Don't hog it all!"
Lorna was near tears. The voices were bombarding her from every angle, the figures advancing slowly. Gleaming smiles caught the light. It was like the set of a horror movie. All she could do was pray it was all a nightmare…
Suddenly, a voice cut through the crowd. "Hey!" The figures cleared, and a familiar man walked up to Lorna.
She looked up, her bottom lip trembling. Her eyes widened.
"James?"
"Lorna. I apologize for them," he spoke with unreadable expression, his face shadowed by the hood of his sweatshirt.
"James," she repeated his name, scrambling to her feet. She clutched his collar, breathing heavily. "James, what the hell is going on?"
He closed his eyes, refusing to look at her. "You wouldn't understand."
Lorna shook him, harder than she intended. She was shivering. "Tell me what is going on here, or I swear I'll-"
A bitter laugh escaped from James' lips, freezing Lorna in her words. He opened his eyes, grinning menacingly. She inhaled sharply.
"And what," James said, teeth glinting, "do you think you can do to me?"
Lorna's breath caught as James brought his hand to her throat. She gulped, coughing and sputtering.
"J-James-!" Her hands left his shirt, clawing at the skin of his hands. The long nail of Lorna's index finger tore through James' skin, and bright red blood dripped from his palm. Too bright…
Suddenly, he let go of Lorna. She fell hard onto the pavement, clawing at the ground and hacking, too out of breath to budge. Spots danced before her eyes. The world spun on an axis. She couldn't catch her breath.
"What was that for, babe?" James, without warning, knelt down and yanked at a fistful of Lorna's curls. She yelped as he shoved his bloody hand in her face.
"Kinky, huh? You gotta blood fetish?" He shook his hand, jerking Lorna's head.
Lorna tried to speak, but the words were caught in her throat, and all that escaped her lips were desperate wheezes. Her scalp ached, and her neck was tearing itself apart. The breaths she tried to take were haggard, raspy. She wasn't to blame when fat tears began rolling down her cheeks.
"How about a little taste, yeah?" James cackled, a terrifying bellow. The other people joined in. Lorna was so caught up in her torture, she forgot they were even there. Howls of maniacal laughter sounded from all sides of her.
Lorna had stopped coughing, but all she could muster was a whisper. "P-please, stop…"
James jerked his head. His hood had fallen back, and his eyes glinted with a fire Lorna had only before seen in nightmares.
"Don't worry, baby girl, you'll thank us eventually." James, eerily gentle, cupped the hand not covered in blood under Lorna's chin. He held the other hand above her face, near her mouth.
The rest of the people, no, the monsters, gathered began to whoop and holler. They shouted wicked encouragements to James, stomping their feet and bringing their hands together in deafening claps.
"It's time!"
"Fresh meat!"
"Let's make the Gravediggers pay!"
"No, this is war against the Silvermen!"
"Whoever we fight, we know the Fangs have new blood!"
"New blood! New blood!"
The chant continued, and the words "new blood" resounded through the alley. Lorna felt her heart pounding. She tried once more to beg.
"James, listen to me! Please-"
Lorna was cut off as wet blood was dripped into her mouth. She coughed, disgusted, but the warm substance trickled down her throat.
The chant turned into vicious cheers. James let go of Lorna, and she crawled backwards away from him, straight into the legs of a pair of women. They grabbed her by the arms, hauling her to her feet.
"So, new girl," one jeered, "you ready for the time of your life?"
The other girl spoke up, her nails digging into Lorna's arm. "The rest of your life!"
Both girls cackled madly as James approached Lorna again.
"It's time for you to go, baby. But don't worry, you'll be back soon enough." He reached up, running a finger down Lorna's cheek. She tried to jerk her arms away from the girls, to hit him, or punch him, or something, but they held fast.
James turned, sauntering out of the alley. The others, cackling madly, making horrid haces at Lorna, followed him. Lorna felt hot tears rolling down her face, jerking back and forth to try and get away. Still, the girls, seemingly too thin for their strength, laughed as they held Lorna in place.
Soon enough, the alley was cleared, and trash blew across the concrete, like it was any other alley in Chicago.
Pulling Lorna's arm, one of the girls grinned madly. "Run away, little fledgeling."
The other snorted, pulling on the other arm. "Well, you can try."
Both girls laughed, and suddenly they were gone. Lorna blinked in shock, her arms aching from their grips.
She collapsed to her knees, panting. Whatever the hell that was, she knew that she never wanted to look at James ever again. Lorna didn't have time to count, but she knew that every bruise and scrape on her body was because of him. And that show with the blood- it was disgusting, and Lorna wanted to slap herself for ever liking him in the first place.
Shivering, she stood. She needed to be far away, and go somewhere safe. Not her apartment, James had her spare key.
Her legs barely holding her up, Lorna began walking, knowing where she had to go.
She hoped that her sister hadn't sold the pull-out couch.