Eleven months earlier

I sit at the bar, clutching my drink between my hands. Coming out to a bar on my own probably wasn't the best idea I've ever had but I was just so eager to try out my fake ID. I was convinced that it wouldn't work, but here I am. I can't help the way I keep glancing around nervously; I'm as far away from home as my father would allow, which isn't actually that far, but I'm far enough away to gain some degree of independence, at least, but I keep expecting him to come barging through the door, yelling about everything from the President to damn vampires before dragging me by my hair back home. My father isn't really a fan of the vampires. In fact, if it were up to him he'd have them rounded up and set fire to. Charming man, my dad.

Speaking of vampires, there's a group of men sat on a table to my right talking about them louder than is strictly necessary. They all have tankards of beer sat before them. I have a feeling that it's not their first and it certainly won't be their last. They seem like a raucous group of men and I feel a little uncomfortable being so near them, especially with them voicing their anti-vampire beliefs so loudly. Personally, I don't have a problem with vampires. I try not to judge a group of people, or in this case, a whole different species, by the actions of a mere few. Yes, there have been numerous news stories about humans being brutally murdered by vampires, but there are humans who kill other humans, too!

They seem to be against fangbangers, too. I don't like that term. Fangbangers. It's insulting in my opinion, but hey, what do I know?

I'm just finishing off my second glass when I notice a boy around my age at the other end of the bar. He's got pale skin and dark hair. He's staring down at his hands which are clasped together atop of the bar. He doesn't look particularly happy.

Almost as if he senses me staring, he looks up suddenly and I turn my attention back to my drink, which is almost gone. When I'm sure that he's gone back to staring at his hands, I chance a glance back over at him and I take notice of the bottle that's sat in front of him. Tru Blood. He reaches for the bottle and takes a swig from it, looking pointedly at me and I realise that I've been staring at him openly. Crap. What's wrong with me? He's certainly not the first vampire I've ever seen and I'm sure he won't be the last.

I'm about to order myself another drink when I'm alerted of another presence on the right side of me. When I say alerted I mean that an arm goes around the back of my stool and there's a body all but pressed up against me, far too close for comfort. Oh, if only my dear daddy could see me now, he'd have a heart attack.

"Hey there, sweetheart." I realise that it's one of men that I noticed earlier, the ones who were badmouthing vampires and fangbangers. I can smell the alcohol on this breath and I know that he's very close to being very drunk.

"Hi." I reply politely, shifting myself ever so slightly away.

"What's a lovely little lady like yourself doing out here all alone?"

"Acually, I was just leaving." I say. I so wish I hadn't come alone.

"Aw, so soon? At least let me buy you a drink before you go."

"I'm fine, thank you. I really should be getting back, though." I shift uncomfortably. I wish I could slide off my barstool and make my exit but he's stood so close to me, blocking my escape route and there isn't enough room around the other side. I'm trapped.

"Come on! One drink!" He wheedles in what I suppose he imagines is a persuasive voice. He puts his head a little closer to mine and I have to resist the urge to recoil. "I'll make it worth your while." He murmurs, winking.

This time I can't resist the urge and I recoil away from him. He doesn't seem to notice though. His hand finds my leg and I make to slap it away but he clamps down, his fingers digging into my flesh. "One drink." He says. It sounds more like a threat than an offer.

"Really, I'm f-"

"She said no." Comes a quiet voice and we both turn to find the pale boy, the vampire, stood behind us. He's glaring at the man with such contempt, it's a little alarming.

The man must decide that it's not worth the trouble because his hand releases my leg. He straightens up and moves away from me.

"Fucking vampire." He mutters in disgust before stalking off back to his table. He sits down and starts murmuring angrily to his friends. It's not long before they start throwing dirty glares over at the vampire.

I slip down from my stool and shoulder my bag before standing in front of him. He's taller than me but not by much. "Thank you." I say quietly.

He nods his head in acknowledgement. "You're welcome."

I give him what is probably a rather awkward smile before I rush out of the bar.

I stop off at the nearest convenience store to pick up a few things before I decide to head back to campus. I don't want to be out too late, after all. I reach for my cell to check the time to find a text from my father, a missed call and a voicemail, both of which I assume to also be from my father. The text, as I knew it would be, is asking me what where I am, what I'm doing and who I'm doing it with. I'm typing a reply, a very dishonest one which tells him that I'm in my room, alone, reading a book, when I'm distracted by a commotion down an alley way across the road. I send my text and pocket my cell before crossing the road. I can hear grunting and the sound of impact. Someone's talking as well. They're not exactly shouting, but their tone is loud and angry enough to get their message across.

I hear the sound of impact again, followed by a sharp intake of breath before a man's voice can be heard.

"Take that, you fucking fanger!" He growls.

Much more bravely than I feel, I step into the entrance of the alleyway and I'm shocked by the sight that meets my eyes: there's a vampire sprawled out on the floor. I think it's the one who defended me in the bar, but I can't be sure, it's hard to make out his face in the dark. I only know it's a vampire because I can see his fangs. Silver chains have been draped across his neck, his wrists and his ankles. There's four men. I recognise one of them as the man who hit on me in the bar. The other three must be his friends. They seem to be taking turns to kick the living shit out of the vampire, and he doesn't seem to be putting up any sort of fight.

Because I owe him and because I never was the sort of person who could walk away from injustice, I decide to swoop in and save the day, though I'm sure that there's not really much that I can do against four angry men.

"What the hell is going on?" I cry with as much force as I can muster.

Four heads turn to face me and the one who hit on me swears. "Run along, missy." He hisses. He wipes the vampire's blood off of his knuckles onto his shirt and pulls back his fist to take another hit.

"I'll call the cops!" Oh, wow. Lame. They're viciously beating up a vampire in an alley, they're hardly going to be intimidated by a teenage girl who's threatening them with the police. Nice work, Thalia. Great job.

To my surprise, though, they all look at each other for a few moments before straightening up.

"Whatever." One of them mutters. I assume that this one is their leader because he gestures to the others and leads them out of the alley way. "This isn't over." He shoots over his shoulder at the vampire before they storm off, leaving me alone in a dark alley way with him. I wait until they're out of sight before I rush to his side. The silver chains have burned into his skin leaving angry red welts.

"Are you ok?" I ask him as I start to gingerly pull the silver chains from his skin. I start with the one across his neck because that one looks like the most painful.

"I'm fine," he replies between gasps of pain. "Thank you."

I remove the chains from his wrists and then his ankles before looking at him. I was right, it is the vampire from the bar. I smile. "Well, you saved my ass back in that bar, I kind of owe you one."

He pushes himself up into a sitting position. "Well, consider the debt repaid." He replies as he rubs his wrists. The gashes left by the chains are gone but perhaps they still hurt. I stand up and offer him my hand. He stares at it for a few seconds and I realise that he's probably strong enough to pull himself up. He is a vampire, after all. I make to retract my hand, feeling foolish, but he takes it and pulls himself up. He certainly is surprisingly strong, especially for someone so young. Then again, he could be hundreds of years old. How would I know?

"What's your name?" He asks me.

"Thalia. What's yours?"

"Godric."