II. Sentinel
Think of the all the unconscious habits you have, the subtle coping mechanisms that flow freely through your essence, ingrained from childhood memories. Conditioned behavior reinforced by stimuli. Nervous ticks, tell-tale signs like the way your lips tug up at the corners of your mouth when you're lying. Or the way your brow furrows when you're embarrassed. The way you impetuously bury your hands deep into your pockets when you don't know what to do with your limbs. How many people notice the intricacies of addictive tendencies you possess, when you might never notice them yourself?
Marko shifted with slight unease as he leaned against the rough brick wall of the townhouse. The night was hot and muggy, leaving anyone over-dressed feeling burdened by the warmth. He instinctively brought his fingers to his mouth, chewing the nails that had already been worn down by the habitual fixation. His bleach-bone fangs were sharp and ever-present, though not as prominent as when the blood lust caused a transformation. In his civilized state, they were more easily concealed from the public.
Marko's youthful countenance gave away the fact that he was the fledgling of the group, the last to be turned. And as such, he could occasionally be found caught up in initiation rites that routinely turned into what could only be considered errands, like getting food or lugging home gasoline cans for their bikes. It bothered him little though, the bond between brothers was such that menial tasks were only a minor inconvenience in the present and barely a blip in the grand scheme of their unnaturally long lives. Jealousy, however, was another matter altogether.
His coven, four strong, were usually found within close reach. Seldom separated but often caught just out of earshot of one another. Tonight, Marko was patiently waiting for his eldest brother, David, to finish visiting a dark haired vixen he'd recently taken an interest in. Nightly escapades were commonplace, trysts with boardwalk patrons or tourist girls that left them walking funny in the morning. He and his brothers were accustomed to fleeting affairs that burned out as quickly as they had caught fire. But this? This had a different scent to it, and Marko could feel the changing tides in the coven dynamic. This was the third visit in a week. David had plans for this girl.
Marko crouched down to rest his back against the masonry, poised like a cat on its haunches. He was getting antsy. Under more favorable circumstances, he would have gone inside with his elder. But since they split off from Paul and Dwayne at the boardwalk, they had been trailed by a pair of comic-book reading, garlic-wielding pre-teens who had somehow come upon the notion that there were vampires lurking in Santa Carla. Marko laughed softly to himself, his characteristic cheshire grin peeling its way across his delicate face. They weren't any real threat, just a couple of unattended minors with too much time on their hands. But still, it was bad for business to have accusations following the group, lest a real hunter catch wind of it. David had toyed with the idea of killing the two boys, but that was also bad for business. The young Frog brothers were a facet of the boardwalk, someone was bound to notice their absence. Missing children meant a worse reputation for the city, less tourists satiating their wanderlust here. Less prey to pick from. For now, it was just a waiting game.
There was a raucous clatter from inside the tall, narrow house followed by sounds of mirthful exchange. Shadows fell briefly across the illuminated window sill, obscured by the thin veil of a curtain. Eyeing the glass panes above, Marco rocked back and forth, shifting his weight between legs. He drew in a deep breath before settling his gaze on the tar black street, driving his hands into the pocket of his garish patchwork jacket. He withdrew a cigarette and small lighter, rolling them ambivalently between fingers. It was almost too hot out to enjoy, but what else was there to relieve the boredom? He pressed it to his lips, thumb striking across the flint wheel of the metal lighter. Sparks, but no ignition.
"Shit," he softly muttered through lips pursed tightly around the cigarette. He cupped his other hand around the sparks to shield them from the wind, focusing intently on the frustrations before him.
"Need a light?" Her voice, jarringly coarse, was suddenly there. Like the way darkness rushes into a room when someone switches off the lamp. Marko scurried to his feet, nearly dropping the cigarette out of his mouth in the process.
"Damn, girl," he warily glanced around the empty street, surveying the area hastily. "Where the hell did you come from?" It was rare for another being to surprise a vampire, as their senses were acutely enhanced like one would expect of a top-tier predator. A simpering smile spread from her dark, fleshy lips as she chuckled at his jarred demeanor. He was visibly flustered.
"Don't feel too bad, I'm quieter than most." She had a slight accent, consonants lingered on a trilling tongue. Her teeth glinted in the soft haze of the streetlights. His eyes were immediately drawn to the peculiarity of her smile. Elongated canines. Her presence was imposing, sepia locks disheveled in a coily halo around her head. She loomed above, taller than Marko by at least a few inches.
"Here." She gestured to her outstretched arm, a gold lighter grasped loosely in the palm of her hand. Her skin was a warm tan, like sunlight on smoky quartz. He debated accepting her offer for a moment. Something smelled different about her. Her humanity was less apparent. There were undertones of a savory musk, chalky sweetness over the saponic oils of skin. Like a feral dog. She could see his hesitation.
"I won't bite." The corners of her lips turned upwards wryly. The sentiment held a duality, both unsettling yet comforting. Her tone was teasing, like a joke shared between old friends. Marko glanced up at the window before returning his gaze to this stranger. He shrugged decisively, leaning his head in towards the light as she ignited it. The flame illuminated the long, deep rosy scars that etched their way along her arm up to her shoulder.
"Thanks," his sage eyes met her murky ochre ones, plumes of silky smoke purling from his lips through the warm air between them.
She nodding in reciprocation, mumbling "ajá," while lighting her own and inhaling deeply.
"I've seen you around the boardwalk. You're one of Max's boys right?" She tapped off the ashes onto the ground, scuffing her onyx boots along the pavement rhythmically.
"You know Max?" The four boys made no large effort to conceal their affiliations, although the average resident wouldn't be aware of the empiric network Max governed under the cover of darkness. Max, their father figure. Progenitor of their nocturnal lifestyle.
"Only by reputation. But I know Maria, actually. An old flame." Marko cocked his head to the side trying to piece together her words, until a knowing look spread across his face.
"So, you're-?"
"Not exclusively." She smiled, sharp teeth pressing against russet-brown lips. He returned the smile sheepishly, a proper response refusing to form in his mind. She took another drag from the cigarette, pushing away an unruly lock of hair from in front of her face, revealing a crescent shaped scar that ran the length of her cheek bone. Her skin was like a well-worn canvas, a portrait painted with old wounds.
"Damn, it's hot tonight," she gazed pensively at the sky for a moment. "Gracias a Dios, it's going to rain soon."
He smiled at her vernacular. "Nah, look, it's clear. You can see all the stars." He tilted his head back, chin towards the air.
She laughed warmly at his endearing naivety. "Trust me. Animals know when it's going to rain. It's an instinct thing."
Marko opened his mouth to question her statement but the formative noises barely left his throat before a commotion from inside the house startled them both. The pair shared acutely more sensitive hearing than the ordinary human. They watched as the door swung open, the shrill laughter of a girl poured out, filling the air with a bounce. She was the first to exit, with her long dusky hair falling in whisps, draped down her curvaceous figure. Her ashen skirt was like a relic of the hippie era, white tassels dragging across the ground. She turned her smiling gaze on Marko and waved amiably.
"Hey, Star." He managed an apathetic smile, as his fondness for his brother's new thrall was not yet definite. She had yet to make a lasting impression.
Following closely behind was Marko's elder, clad in a cascading ebony jacket. David's dispassionate smirk faded to a frigid look of malcontent as he inhaled the night air. He could smell the dogged stench that pervaded.
"I see we have company." A soft smile spread across his thin lips but his eyes met Marko's with a glare that sent a clear message.
"Yeah, this is-" He paused, realizing he'd never gotten her name.
"Verida." The girl interjected for him.
"Charmed." David let the sardonic reply hang in the air. The tension was growing, dividing the two factions of supernatural beings. Imperceptive as she was, even Star noticed the uncomfortable silence. She gave David's hand a squeeze, attempting to draw his attention for a parting kiss. He turned his eyes on her, pressing his lips gently to hers. He stepped down the patio stairs with sanguine ease, leaving her on the porch.
"Marko. Time to go."
David was already resolutely walking away from the scene. The younger vampire scrambled to catch up. He glanced back. Verida was still leaning against the wall. She gave him a tepid wave of the hand before he turned back to his elder.
Verids exhaled a puff of smoke before turning to face the girl on the porch. Star was visibly disturbed by her loitering. She clenched the door in one hand, before awkwardly stepping back inside. The deadbolt lock clicked with a resounding clunk.
"Tough crowd."
"Hey, man, cool your jets. What's the rush?" Being on the small end of the male spectrum, Marko's stride length was much shorter than David's. He had to take several steps for every one his companion took.
"I don't enjoy being in the company of wolves."
"What, like a werewolf? You're saying she was-"
"Marko, don't play stupid." His pace slowed as he felt the threat growing more distant. "You can tell the difference."
"Yeah I knew she smelled kinda off, but some people are just rank, you know?" He smiled jovially, laughing at his own joke. That was his demeanor, apt to lift the gloom even if not intentionally.
His elder shot him a look that said he was not in the mood for jokes. He did not bother to ingratiate the young vampire with a reply.
Marko was quick to fill the silence. "Well how was I s'posed to know? Nobody told me about wolves here. You don't exactly talk about that kind of thing, bud." He watched his companion closely, nearly walking sideways to face him as he spoke. "Oh, I get it now."
"And what is there to get?" David seethed, he was less than appreciative of his brother's weasel-like tone.
"You. And a she-wolf."
He turned to see Marko's coy grin and scoffed, directing his attention back to the direction in which they were walking. "You're not as clever as you think you are," he said void of emotion, leaving no room for his coven-mate's interpretation to gain any traction.
Marko beamed at his elder, feeling quite clever regardless. But, did not push the matter further.
"It's a sore spot. Leave it be." David kept his eyes transfixed on the nearing jubilee of lights that bobbed along the horizon. He paused, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his venerated obsidian jacket. "And let the hounds mind their own. Max also has his reasons for keeping them at arm's length."
"I'll let sleeping dogs lie," Marko jeered, bumping shoulders affectionately with his coven leader. David's hardened composure began to shift. He looked down at his younger companion, a candid smile forming, making creases amid the spackling of stubble. He slung his arm around Marko and the two continued walking.
"Shall we go get Paul and Dwayne? They should be done helping Max close up." David smirked.
"Hell yes, I'm starving."
The night was growing late, but they were nearing the boardwalk. A mellifluous orchestra of carnival music and jubilant voices were rising up from the scene ahead. Santa Carla rarely slept. For a child of the dark, there wasn't a better place to be.
A soft rumble, easily mistaken for the roar of the rollercoaster, transcended from the distant sky. It began, as most storms do, with a single well-placed drop of rain. Then another. Continuing gently until there was a placid symphony of precipitation, falling down indiscriminately upon all the beings and beasts of Santa Carla.
