A/N: Oh hai. This is my first story. I love Twilight, and I love Jasper. So. Enjoy. Please review, I love feedback. I may change the rating to M if a lemon surfaces. But hold on to your tootsies, it won't be for a while!! Bwahaha.
Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight. I sure wish I did though.
-That "New York Taste"-
A reddish tinted, almost pink moon rose like a pomegranate over New York City. It glowed down on brightly lit, crowd-choked streets full of people bustling- either going home or leaving it, depending on their sense of fun. This was Friday night in the Big Apple- the sidewalks were anything but empty.
On the dirty sidewalk outside a popular club, an equally crowded line undulated and swelled, contracting and expanding like a disgruntled caterpillar. The musty purple rope closing off the line swung back and forth crazily due to the movement of the impatient club-hoppers. The giant neon sign swinging above the club designated it as "Club Salvation", depicting a drunken angel in fishnets and not much else.
Ella Heron shifted her weight onto her left heel impatiently, wincing as her ankle protested the bright pink stiletto's torture. She had had a horrible week and had really been looking forward to going out tonight- but the way things were going, it would probably be a total bust.
She looked over her shoulder through her red hair at her friend Carrie-Marie.
"Carrie, can we just go home and watch a movie? I really don't want to wait two hours to get into a damn club, even if it IS Salvation. My feet are killing me in these stupid shoes."
Carrie shot her a look that was half understanding and half annoyed.
"Well, honey, you can leave if you want, but I didn't sleep with my boss to get those club passes just to waste them when we got here," she said, rolling her heavily glittered eyes and tapping her cigarette on the nearest brick wall.
"Titanic is on HBO tonight?" Ella wheedled, watching the ashes fall from the cigarette with mild disgust. Carrie just looked at her, and proceeded to blow a smoke ring squarely into her face. "Nope."
Ella coughed and hacked wildly, causing the guy next to her to edge away a few feet. Once she felt better, she straightened up and gave Carrie-Marie a judicious eyebrow, and then an equally judicious red-lacquered middle finger.
Ella could hear Carrie laughing as she stalked off in the direction of her apartment. She rolled her eyes. She and her friend would fight often, but they were tough New York City girls. They knew their way around and had each other's backs.
Her heels clacking softly on the dusty concrete of the sidewalk, Ella wandered down an alley she knew would take her to 5th Avenue as a shortcut, off of which she knew she could hail a cab. She frowned, realizing this alley was longer than she had thought it was. She walked faster, knowing safety wasn't too far off.
Suddenly the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Someone- or something- was here with her, in the dark. She turned around and saw a pair of beautiful eyes. But something was wrong, her brain registered- these eyes were a bright scarlet red.
Ella never reached 5th Avenue that Friday night. Nor any other Friday night, for that matter.
--
The owner of the red eyes had been very hungry. Well, thirsty to be exact. She had been holding off feeding for nearly a month at that point. And when she'd seen the lone female tromping self-importantly down the alleyway at midnight, she figured the stupid bimbo deserved it. Wandering dark alleyways in the middle of the night in New York? Wearing hot pink stilettos and a black minidress that left nothing to the imagination? It was called evolution, as far as the red-eyed one was concerned; besides, the woman would have been raped and murdered at the next doorway anyway.
Having one's blood drained was a much better alternative.
The crimson eyes speculated the pale body now on her equally, if not even more translucent, hands. She would just do the regular job tonight with the body- slash it in a few key places and dump it in the ocean. No big deal. Drunken club hoppers fell into the water all the time, usually floating up bloated and unrecognizable by the Statue of Liberty. The news would be delighted for something to do.
Hefting the corpse over her shoulder and hoping the black peacoat wouldn't get body glitter all over it, the pale young woman lightly leaped onto the dumpster beside her, and from that point proceeded to jump from window to window all the way up the 20 story building.
She flew now from building to building, moving so quickly she could not be seen by human eyes. One of the advantages of being a vampire, she thought sarcastically.
Once she had dumped the human's body into the water, she hailed a cab home. She could have just gone the same way she came to the waterfront, by running, but she didn't want to worry about being noticed by the shrewd New Yorkers right now. Doing a Spiderman (i.e. running up a wall) had always been considered a little odd by humans; and besides, she liked talking to the cabbies. She did have forever, after all. Why not slow down?
She had, of course, not always "had forever". Once she had been seventeen. Once she had had a number which tallied her years of life, and that number meant something; not like now. Once she had worn a high-necked gown with a wide hoop-skirt, dripping with lace and frills. Once she had been forced to go to society dances with a dance card, and pretend to entertain prospective suitors in her parlor. Once she had fought with her father about being able to ride horses astride, to wear trousers like the boys did. Once she had ridden into the heat of battle alongside her unknowing brothers, against her own countrymen.
"Lady?"
The vampire shook herself out of her deep thoughts and barely caught herself before she could look the cabbie square in the eye. She instead put her hand over her eyes, as if she was tired.
"I'm sorry, sir, what did you say?"
"Where are you headed?"
She gave the address and sat back, closing her eyes. She had almost shown the cabbie her red irises- she was lucky to have caught herself that soon, or she would have had to take the cabbie as well.
Sinking down lower on the old leather seat of the yellow taxi cab, her midnight black hair mussing up behind her head, the vampire pursed her porcelain Cupid's bow lips and wrinkled her slim, slightly up-turned Irish nose.
God, she was tired of New York hookers. Well, New York people in general. They all tasted the same- a mixture of smoke, drugs, garbage, and hairspray, all mixed in with the rich sweetness that all human blood contained. It was true that she had been feeding only off the underground. But still.
Heaving her stark form out of the cab after throwing some bills at the cabbie, she stalked into her apartment building, out of the glare of the pink moon, her black peacoat swirling around her thighs. Her grungy black leggings were smeared with the general refuse that comes from running around atop buildings in New York, and riddled with holes. They too delicately smelled of the rancid-tasting blood, under all the other odors they had picked up.
The vampire silently pushed her way into her immaculately clean apartment and pulled off her combat boots. She began packing her suitcase, on whose leather surface was stamped her name in peeling gold lettering: Anastasia Baryon.
She needed to get out of New York. 170 years in this city was more than enough.
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A/N: Hope you enjoyed the first chapter. :) Please review and share your thoughts with me.