“What have we got here…”
Reaching inside, I brush away the debris, to something gold and red and very shiny. Sinking teeth into my bottom lip, my fingers wrap around a smooth surface, cool to the touch and free it from its hiding place.
“Treasure…” I breathe, opening my hand to see a fat gold brooch, red rubied, ripe as grapes, pressed into the precious metal.
Floorboards creak behind me.
I snap up and whip around, searching for the noise. But when I see nothing a small giggle bubbles up in my chest at my paranoia. I’ve been alone way too long, that’s all this is.
I’m about to turn my attention back to the brooch, but the floorboards creak again and my heart stops. A cold sweat slicks my brow. My eyes won’t seem to focus, but at the same time won’t move from the open door as anothercreeeaksends spikes of fear into my brain.
There’s nothing there…there’s noth—
Candlelight catches a hunched silhouette.
I freeze, a scream lodged in my chest as, from the doorway, a thin, impossibly pale hand grips the frame, its fingers curling slowly. Long, yellowed, nails scraping around the aged wood.
“That…doesn’t belong to you,” a voice hisses, like sandpaper rubbing against metal.
My lodged scream rips free, and I drop the candle as a hulking figure pulls itself into view.
Chapter Two - Lucero
Blood tastes sweeter when soaked in wine. It fills my mouth as I hold the struggling man, my fangs buried deep enough to hurt.
But he can’t scream with my hand covering his mouth.
“Are you done?” Ramy asks. His voice is soothing, like a breeze on a hot day. Tall and lithe, he leans against a wall, arms folded. His brown skin catches the moonlight and returns its shine, while his long black hair seems to soak all light in so none can escape.
Dragging my fangs from the man’s neck, which will leave a scar and a reminder, I drop him next to the bins. Alive, but I’m not going to waste my time healing him. Maybe he’ll make it through the night, maybe he won't.
“You said you wanted to go out.” My thumb runs across my lips, gathering the last drops of blood, the man at my feet already forgotten.
Ramy pushes himself up and moves with grace towards me. “I said I wanted to do something fun.”
Together we leave the alleyway and into the ever-busy streets.
Cars honk, people pour out of clubs or restaurants. The combined noise is easy enough for me to withstand, but Ramy is still young, and winces.
Wanting to spare him the discomfort, I steer us away and into the back alleys. The walk home will be longer, but the wrinkle between his dark brows softens.
From the corner of my eye, I examine the young vampire. His features are soft, his expression blank and giving away nothing, but I know he’s upset. Again.
“Why don’t we go to the theatre tomorrow?” I offer, even if it isn’t my idea of entertainment.
“That would be nice.” The corner of his mouth lifts as he turns his deep brown eyes on me. “And it was nice getting out of the club to stretch my legs.”
He’s too forgiving. I have to do better as the temporary head of our little family. No matter how much our bonds are already broken.
“When I was human, I hated the cold. Now I prefer it over the heat.” Ramy wears simple black jeans and a white top with a wool coat like mine.
“I can’t remember how I felt about the heat,” I tell him, trying to throw my mind back to hundreds of years ago. “But I enjoyed the food more. I still remember a fish dish I loved. Though I can’t recall the name.”
“Is this what I should expect when I get over six hundred tears old?” Ramy jokes.
I force a smile. I don’t tell him forgetting your human side is the least of your concerns. Its when all colours become grey, music sound with no joy, and losing minutes—hours, days—to numb silence.
Emptiness. Apathy. That is what Ramy should fear.
