The wind was cool but not too strong, and the night sky looked beautiful. Cassandra stared up at the full moon hanging low in the clear night sky and smiled. She'd really enjoyed the Viking exhibit. It had much more and better quality relics than she had expected, even a magical staff with a bull's head on it that had actually been used by a Godi, a Norse Priest. Unfortunately it was opening night and the place was crawling with curious history buffs, press and boring rich people. Although was nicely dressed in a maroon business suit and had her hair piled neatly into a bun, she still felt out of place. It was probably exaggerated, but she had heard many horror stories of how badly big city people thought of folks from small towns, especially when they had a thick Southern accent like her. It was silly that she was out here on the balcony hiding because of a stupid stereotype.
She heard footsteps behind her and glanced over her shoulder to see a rather large man walking her way. Being raised with good Southern manners, she turned her attention away from him quickly so as not to seem like she was watching him. To her surprise he stepped up right beside her and pulled a cigar out of his pocket. Now she couldn't help but look at him. He was very tall and muscular and his face was square and severe, definitely not the kind of guy you'd want to meet in a dark alley. His plain black suit was neatly pressed and looked like it was custom tailored to fit him.
He lit the cigar then looked at her and smirked. "I spent a lot of money on all the food and booze in there. Are youwaiting for a personal invitation?"
"This is your exhibit?" she gasped in surprise.
He chuckled softly in amusement then took a long draw off of the cigar. "Cute accent. You from Tennessee or something?"
She blushed and shyly replied, "You're close I'm from Kentucky." Well at least if he was about to knock off perceived IQ points from her, he couldn't cite her for lack of manners as well. She waited in awkward silence while he pondered her expression curiously.
"You got a name?" he asked before turning his head to blow a puff of the cigar smoke away from her.
She politely extended her hand toward him and smiled nervously. "Of course. I'm Cassandra, and you are?"
As soon as their hands touched to shake, an unseen force knocked her off her feet. She landed hard against a concrete sculpture that stood nearby and groaned as everything in her field of vision faded to black.
When she came to she felt a sharp aching in the back of her head and satin bedsheets around her. Her surroundings were too blurry to see, but she could hear the man she had met arguing with someone on the phone.
"She's okay, but she hit her head pretty hard. She's gonna need Kiera to look at her. I don't know, Julian. I was too busy making sure she wasn't dead to think about that! When she wakes up I'll ask her, but I'm pretty sure she's some kind of Witch. Well it damn sure didn't come out of nowhere. Whatever, just tell Kiera to get her ass over here. I'm not babysitting this human any longer than I have to." With that she heard him slam the phone back on the receiver and grumble, "Damn Ventrue."
After blinking a few times, her surroundings came into focus. She was in a nice room lying in a rod iron bed. The man she had met walked over to her and looked down at her curiously. "You're a Witch, aren't you?"
She nodded and groggily replied, "Yes. What happened?"
"My guess is that you experienced some kind of power surge when you touched me. That tends to happen when Witches meet my kind." he answered bluntly.
She gave him a confused look then asked, "What are you?"
"There's no easy way to say this, kid. I'm a vampire."
She shook her head in disbelief and replied, "I've got to be dreaming."
"Sorry." he shrugged, "But it's the truth."
"Very funny, except that vampires don't exist!" she laughed, thinking he was joking with her.
"Neither do Witches." he quipped then reached behind her to fluff her pillow. "Rest now. Someone's on the way to look at you and make sure you don't have a concussion."
Before she could say anything he turned around and left the room. She sunk down in the fluffy softness of the bed, still hoping this was all a dream. After over twenty minutes of staring at the ceiling, she slowly sat up in the bed and positioned the pillow behind her head. As a Witch, she'd seen a few things that defied explanation, but nothing like this. The scary thing is that this guy seemed to be serious about what he said he was. Either he was telling the truth, trying to scare her with a lie, or she was being held by a madman. All she'd wanted was to see an exhibit. This was just too much.