Kara really hates the cold. Always has and always will. It sticks to her bones uncomfortably and shakes her from the inside out, seeping into every pore and rattling her soul against her ribs until it's bruised.
The worst thing about her job as a reporter is that she often finds herself walking home after dark with her cheeks getting chapped from the blistering winds and her fingers numb where she pinches her coat shut because the zipper broke, something she's been meaning to get fixed for a while.
Another late-night rendezvous with an unsatisfied worker of a large corporation willing to risk their job to take down a power-hungry multi-millionaire leads her to be walking home, teeth chattering and her notebook full of her scrawled notes. Her tape recorder is wedged inside her left-hand inner pocket to keep safe, her anonymous source's full statement held within.
The street lamps guide her way along the sidewalk, her route well-trodden and every inch of concrete beneath her sensible flats memorized and hauntingly familiar. Kara could walk this route with her eyes closed, she's come along here thousands of times, and yet her eyes skim across the street, and she checks behind her periodically.
She's scared of the dark and she isn't afraid to admit it. She might live on the good side of town and she has never had any trouble before, but still, her heart rate picks up and falls in time with the rushed rhythm of her quickening feet, her walk speeding up the closer she gets to her apartment building.
Her hands grip tighter on her coat every time she passes an alley, and her breath catches when a lone car travels down the street, only to pass her, unaware of her inner dialogue accusing them of darker motives.
There's something strange about tonight though. Kara isn't just suspicious or jumpy, she's scared. Something is in the air tonight that isn't just putting her on edge but throwing her over the edge completely.
She would bet her life savings on the fact that it is getting colder with every step closer she gets to the safety of her loft and the hairs on the back of her neck prick up in fright, keenly aware of something lurking. Something that Kara's eyes can't pinpoint.
Every rustle of leaves or tinkling of windchimes from gardens has her checking around her, ready to fight and protect herself, dread sitting leaden in her stomach, weighing her down all the more.
With six more blocks to go, Kara dreams of the satisfying click her lock makes on her front door, the resounding sound of safety and an accomplished journey for her to look back on with embarrassment, ashamed of how much she can psych herself out just from a simple walk home she does at least three times per week.
Today is just different though. There is no familiarity as she passes street signs, the traffic is nowhere to be found, maybe one car passing every couple of minutes rather than the steady stream that she's used to.
Even the ground feels like an old acquaintance, someone she used to make small talk with when they saw each other, now she can't place their name or face, her mind scrambling to catch up to find information that she should know.
In her rush the tip of Kara's shoe catches against a little dip in the sidewalk that she should know, should have been watching out for because she's stepped over it countless times before. Her body lurches forward and her hands splay out in front of her, ready to brace her fall.
She hits the rough concrete with a thud that knocks the wind right out of her, the supple skin of her palms scraped right off, fresh pools of blood dripping from the wounds, not too deep but not at all free of pain.
Kara pushes herself back up, eager to get back on track. Looking down at her poor hands that are slightly bloodied and full of grits she winces, breathing heavily and willing her feet to move, to take her home.
The fight against the wind is all the more torturous now that her hands sting against the rough material of her coat, unwilling to give up on wrapping it around herself as snuggly as she can, the cold too much to bare if she doesn't.
Everything goes still, the wind dies down and the trees stop swaying.
Kara looks up towards the branches that were moving just a second ago, appreciative of the reprieve but creeped out by the sudden change.
Looking up at the leaves, she isn't looking down the alley she's passing by, she isn't looking at what's in front of her and she isn't checking behind her. She hasn't checked since she tripped. That's her mistake.
She's rushed from behind. Strong hands press into her back, forcing her into the darkness of the alley that she didn't look down and pressing her face first into the wall, her cheekbone hitting the patchy brickwork hard.
It should hurt but her eyes are wide and adrenaline courses through her veins. Whipping her body around with all of her strength she tries to barge into her attacker, to knock them aside hard enough to run, to call for help, to do something.
Kara doesn't make contact, not in the way she was planning anyway because while she manages to turn, she is grasped immediately by the throat and forced back against the wall again, the grip so tight that she can barely breathe let alone call out for help.
If there was any night where she should pull out her pepper spray, this should have been the one. She felt it in the air and ignored her gut screaming at her to listen so now she's stuck here against the grimy wall, in the dark and only able to stare at one thing – the penetrating green eyes baring down into her own, filled with a lust for something that Kara can't place, but something she does not care to give.
A quiet gasp breaks loose from her lips despite the grip and it has her assailant baring their teeth, growling at her through pearly whites, two elongated points terrifying her to her very core.
Kara has heard of vampires. Everyone has. Their existence has long since been debated though. People claim to see them and people claim to be them but it's all speculation. Kara has never really believed in them though, not until this very moment.
Looking deep into those emerald eyes, struggling against the inhuman grip around her throat and searching for a hint of mercy from what she can now see is a woman. A woman with long dark hair and dark clothes, her pale gleaming skin a striking contradiction.
She stands tall before Kara and finally speaks. "Any last words before I feed on you, human?"
Those words should be the final nail in Kara's coffin, the words to take her fear to a whole new level that she's never reached before instead her terror dissipates, a calmness soaking her bones through and pity taking its place.
This woman lurks in the darkness, not because it makes for easier hunting so she can feed on people but because she physically can't be in the sun. She lives to kill and remain under a cloak that shields her not just from her weaknesses but from life itself, from all of the wonders of the world that can only be viewed in the warm light of day.
This woman must be the saddest person she's ever met and there is nothing more Kara can feel for her than pity.
The hand around her throat releases just enough for her to be able to croak out the words that just may be her last. "Do you miss the sunrise?"
Kara is fully expecting to die with her question left unanswered, the ghost of a sad question left to never be answered.
She's surprised that the vampire woman answers, and considers her question for less than a second before replying with a resolute "yes", sadness dripping down her face in a heartbreaking manner that leaves Kara wondering if vampires can cry and longing to know, understanding that she probably won't.
The hand around her throat tightens once more, the woman's skin freezing against her own. Her other hand braces the side of Kara's head to force it to one side, stretching her neck out.
There's pure strength in her movements and there is nothing that Kara can do to get out of her grasp. Her own hands claw at the hand around her throat, trying to drag her fingers away from her windpipe and failing, her attempts getting weaker and weaker as resignation sets in.
These are Kara's last moments and she isn't going to go out struggling and clawing, she's going to go out standing tall and thinking of the people she loves, vowing to be with them always even when she won't physically be here anymore.
Hands dropping to her sides and eyes closed, Kara presses back into the wall, picturing her last summer with Alex and Eliza in Midvale and last week's game night with her friends. Winn sang a bad rendition of unchained melody, his usually good voice missing because of the sheer amount of alcohol he drank.
She can see Alex as clear as day, head tilted back and her joyful cackle filling her ears amongst the ruckus of the regular patrons at their favourite bar. She's going to miss her.
Kara goes slack. She's ready.
All at once the hands are gone, and the wind kicks back up, blowing her coat wide open and shocking her into opening her eyes.
She's alone.
She doesn't move for a few moments, still in shock and disbelief that she's still standing and that for some reason, the vampire woman has gone. Then it hits her – she should get out of here.
Kara is far beyond being ashamed of looking crazy. Feet stomping, coat billowing, Kara runs. She runs as fast as her legs can take her until she's outside of her apartment building, her shaky fingers struggling with the code to open the door.
It takes her two tries but she does it, jabbing at the buttons franticly until a quiet beep lets her know that she got it right and she can open the door.
She doesn't even bother with the elevator, her heart pounding so hard that she can hear each beat reverberating in her ears.
The stairs are taken two at a time and her key is shoved into the lock of her door, twisted harshly and then dragged out while the door is swinging open only to be slammed shut right behind her, locked and deadbolted.
Her bag is dropped and with the noise, she vaguely wonders when she picked that back up having dropped it when the woman forced her into the alley. She must have grabbed it after.
Eyes searching her dark apartment, she can't take it. Every light is methodically switched on, the main light, every lamp, the TV, and every candle she can find gets lit, she can't stand for even a tiny corner of her loft to be dark, she needs light.
With everything aglow Kara moves on to her next task, the windows. Every window is locked and triple-checked, then the door is unlocked and relocked twice over, and a chair is then shoved beneath the handle.
Left standing in the middle of her loft, light engulfing her and the strong walls of the building protecting her from the ice-cold breath of mother nature, Kara doesn't know what to do next, numb now that she's home, not sure where to go from here.
Her phone and tape recorder are fished out of her pockets and tossed onto her coffee table. When she's in her right mind she'll be grateful that neither broke when she fell or during the scuffle.
Dizzy and disorientated she perches on the edge of the couch, shifting back slowly and bringing her feet up onto the cushion so she's sitting with her legs tucked up in front of her, curled into a little ball.
She's still quivering, and now, after everything, she lets the tears fall.
Her head falls forward to rest on her knees and she just weeps, petrified by the events of the evening and overwhelmingly grateful that she's somehow still alive, that the vampire woman bestowed her with the gift of mercy.
Her thoughts are clouded by her emotions, the ones that aren't completely numbed anyway but despite that she knows that she can never tell anyone that this happened, not her friends, not her family, nobody. Who would believe her anyway?
Hours pass and her tears dry and yet the whole time, she's unaware of two emerald green eyes peering into her brightly lit apartment from the roof of a neighbouring building, watching her fall apart with her heart filled with sorrow and guilt, overpowered by a single question rattling around her brain.
Why couldn't I do it?
Kara never made it to bed, instead, exhaustion kicked in as her adrenaline bid her adieu, letting her pass out on the couch, knees to her chest.
She doesn't move throughout the night, waking up in that exact same position, her muscles stiff and her hands stinging like nobody's business, sore and filthy, a blatant reminder of what occurred the night before.
There's no way Kara can go to work in her state, she's still shaky and can barely think straight. She's only ever called into work sick once before and it's because she literally couldn't get out of bed because she was so ill. She felt downright awful that entire day and yet, the feeling that she has now is ten times worse.
One phone call later she's home free to take some time to get herself untangled from her web of confusion. Her voice is scratchy, probably from the choking, and it really helps solidify her excuse for calling out of work. She can take a few days and figure out what she's doing, but first things first, she needs a shower.
The shower is her saving grace. With each scrub of the luffa over her skin she can feel the events of last night falling away, her mind clearing with the steam radiating off of the steady stream of water, set to the hottest level that Kara can handle without reflexively jumping out of the way of it.
Holding her hands beneath the water and lathering them with soap, the grit easily frees itself from her skin, leaving her damaged skin free of grime so it can start healing.
Kara makes sure to rub in some antiseptic cream and wrap them up after her shower, feeling much better now that she's clean, relaxed and warmed through.
She's not at all happy when she sees herself in the mirror though, her cheek painted with a lovely mix of blues and purples where she hit the wall and her neck marked red from the grip the vampire woman had on her. At least that should go soon enough, already pretty faded, she can explain away the rest but not a hand mark around her throat.
She thinks about relaxing, maybe catching up on some TV. Her mind is still stuck on that woman though, her piercing eyes taking up residence in her brain, haunting her with their beauty.
Kara is taken with the overwhelming urge to correct herself. She shouldn't be thinking of how beautiful her attacker's eyes are, she should hate the woman, loathe her even, and yet she's just confused.
The vampire woman had every intent to kill her, it was clear to see, but she didn't. She answered her question and then she left. If only she could find her and ask.
Logically, Kara knows that's the worst thing she could do. She probably couldn't find her if she tried but she's dangerous, she had her pinned without so much as breaking a sweat. She'd probably kill her if she was given another chance to. Kara still has questions.
She won't actively start looking for her, not thus far anyway, but she will be ready if she does see her. Sliding open her laptop, Kara stretches out her fingers, ignoring the tightness of her wounded skin as she does so, and starts typing. She's got some research to do.
If there's one thing Kara deserves credit for, it's for bouncing back. There are not many people that can face death and be researching it the next day, intent on finding clues that will justify the actions of the vampire that threatened her.
But she did more than threaten her. She pinned her against a wall, she stretched out her neck, she demanded her last words.
She showed mercy.
That's the point that Kara is focusing on. That's the point that she has to focus on. The only point on her mind except for the two points of the woman's teeth.
Her first search is basic, just one word. Vampire.
It doesn't get her very far, a general summary of what one is, a few books on the subject, almost all of them fiction, and a couple of old articles arguing their existence. Kara doesn't need to see the arguments, she knows they are real now.
She moves on to her next search. Vampire attacks in National City.
Now that, that gives her something to work off of. There's actually a lot for her to go through, some that she can discard right away, clear attention grabs and false accusations, some that could go either way and a few that make a shiver run down her spine, accounts eerily familiar to her own, but none of them ending the way hers did.
Some people got away due to sheer luck. Some of them having someone interrupt the encounter, some of them managing to run for their lives, spotting their would-be attacker lingering in the shadows and some, the unlucky ones, being found dead the next morning, their only wounds being two tiny holes in their necks, sucked dry of their blood.
In none of the accounts does she find a perfect fit though because anyone who lived to see her vampire woman would remember her eyes. She needs to find those eyes. Those eyes will unlock the answers she so desires.