Mama reached under the sheets to tickle me. The scent of earth and plants clung to her fingers; she’d been out all day in the garden. I couldn’t stop my laughter from escaping as her nimble fingers danced along my sides. I rolled over, getting tangled in the sheets, my amusement turning to mild frustration as I struggled to free myself. Mama chuckled alongside me, her voice warm with affection.
“Rosalia, my little mischief-maker,” she teased. “You have become a bedsheet butterfly!”
With a final burst of effort, I managed to break free from the sheets, and I sat up, beaming at her. Her eyes twinkled with love as she gazed at me.
“Got you!” I declared triumphantly, reaching out to give her a playful hug.
Mama’s hands, now free from their tickling mission, enveloped me in a warm embrace. “You always do,” she replied, kissing the top of my head. She brushed away the tousled hair from my face. Mama was beautiful, with long dark hair cascading down her back and deep-green eyes that held endless love. I stared at her, hoping one day, I would be as lovely as she was.
“Mama?” I asked her, my voice soft as I carefully framed my next question.
“Yes, my little rosebud?”
“When is Papa coming home?”
Her expression shifted, her smile faltering as worry flickered in her eyes. “Do not ask that, Rosalia,” Mama snapped. It was rare for her to get upset with me, and I felt a pang of guilt for asking. “You know he is working, and he will return when the job is complete—as he always does.” She let go of me and fluffed the pillow above my head. “Now, off to sleep.”
The ache of missing Papa weighed on my heart. He had been away for a fortnight, and I longed for his return. He worked with a group of Slayers to protect our town of Elmcross. He used to tell me stories about his trips whenever Mama wasn’t around, knowing she wouldn’t appreciate him telling seven-year-old me the scary tales. He hunted creatures of the night. Blood Hunters, we called them.
Blood Hunters were once humans, Papa had explained, transformed into monsters who prowled the night, draining their victims dry of blood. I was very proud that my Papa defended us and kept everyone in Elmcross safe, but I worried about him when he was away. Some nights, I would lie awake in bed, certain I could hear strange noises, distant cries, and scratching through my window. Each time I asked Mama about it, she would simply tell me to go to bed and not to worry.
She tucked me in, and I saw her anxiety over Papa’s prolonged absence in the creases forming at the corners of her eyes, and the worry lines etched between her brows. I longed to comfort her, but I found myself at a loss for how to do so.
“I apologize, Mama,” I said quietly, blinking back tears.
“No, my sweet Rosebud,” she murmured, her tone softening as she wiped a falling tear from my cheek. “I should apologize. Your papa has been away longer than usual, and I cannot help but feel anxious. But you must not worry.”
Mama reached around her neck and unclasped a delicate silver necklace with a teardrop-shaped red garnet and a rose encased by two leaves. “Your papa gave me this before you were born, the first time he left for his work. He said it would protect me. Wear it until he returns, so you may remember you are never alone.”
I held it up to the candlelight. Its deep red hue sparkled in the flickering glow, and I clutched it tightly, gazing at Mama with newfound determination. “I shall take good care of it,” I promised.
She kissed my forehead, her love a reassuring presence, and whispered, “I know you will, my darling. Now, rest. It has been a long and tiring day.”
She blew out the candle, leaving me in the grip of darkness.
I clutched the pendant, feeling its weight in my hands. The moonlight shone through my windows as I whispered a prayer to the moon, asking for Papa’s safe return and for Mama’s worries to ease. I closed my eyes tight, but the tears slipped through as I drifted off to sleep.
THREE
January 1, 2010
The sky erupted with a burst of fireworks as I wove through the bustling crowd. Anticipation coursed through me, heightening every sense, the air thick with the intoxicating blend of sweat, beer, and the earthy scent of the forest floor. My eyes flicked across the chaotic celebration, vibrant flashes of colour lighting up the faces around me, each explosion of light aiding in my search.
At the edge of the crowd, I found a couple locked in a passionate embrace. The man turned, his stare locking with mine.
Bingo.
I approached them, and he broke apart from his partner, grinning at me. “Mind if I join?” I asked, my smile flirtatious. The woman turned and scanned me up and down, nodding. I leaned in, brushing my lips against hers and then trailing them down her neck. Her companion reached out and touched me, watching us, blissfully unaware of my true intentions. I let him grope me. Normally, I would have swatted away his touch, but I wanted him distracted from what I was about to do.
My fangs extended, piercing the delicate skin of the woman’s throat. Warm blood rushed into my mouth, and the taste sent an electrifying current through me.
A supermarket cart, the scent of her favourite perfume, a movie theater date.Her mundane human memories, clear and sharp, flashed through my mind as I drank with urgency. The moments of her life were intoxicating, reminding me of when I was human. I closed my eyes, focusing on the taste of her blood. She swayed in my embrace, too drunk to realize there was a predator in her midst. My hunger was fierce, but tonight, the plan was no dead bodies. Reluctantly, I pulled away, my tongue sweeping over her wound to clean it, leaving the taste of her fresh blood in my mouth.
I quickly turned to the man. His mustache had remnants of white powder clinging to it as I pressed my lips against his, drinking in the taste of tobacco and vodka. His hands gripped my waist and pulled me closer. His mustache was coarse, and his tongue danced along my lips, trying to enter my mouth. Fireworks continued around us. He pulled back, his eyes full of confusion. “You taste like—”
I cut off his words with another kiss trailing down his neck, though he started to fight against my embrace. I was stronger than he was, having just fed from his partner. I sank my teeth in and drank.
Buttoning up his shirt, lying in the sun, driving with a cigarette smouldering between his fingers.Images from his life played out in my mind as I felt my hunger begin to subside. His body relaxed under my touch, and I pushed his memories aside, drinking deeper than I had from his partner. When I finally released him, I quickly slipped away into the crowd. I hoped that, like the fleeting memories of their drunken night, I would fade as well.
