Work Text:
I met my first vampire when I was eighteen and looked twenty and felt like I was at least as mature as any twenty-one year old. I had a fake ID from a friend of a friend of a friend, a short skirt and tight shirt, and an excuse to stay out all night.
My best friend chickened out, but I was determined to make it into Victor’s, the hot new club in the next town over. It had theme nights, and that Friday night was Goth night. I didn’t have the right clothes, but I did have black eyeliner thick across my eyelids and cheap black lipstick I snagged from a dollar store that afternoon. I wore my hair up to look older and a velvet ribbon around my throat and made sure to pull the neck of my shirt down before I reached the bouncer.
He grinned, barely glanced at my ID, and waved me inside. I nearly cheered before I realized that would just give me away, so I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself, hard enough to draw blood, tucked my card into my pocket, and headed into a room thick with hot skin and sweat.
The walls were painted black and red, bar stools and booths and tables done in black and chrome. It fit the goth theme, but I couldn’t really picture any other theme night working with it. I’d have to come back and find out.
My plan had been to get a drink just to say I could, but I felt giddy and nearly drunk off the thrill of making it inside. The music was loud, and though I didn’t recognize the song, I could feel the pounding bass vibrate through my body. I headed to the dance floor instead of the bar and dove into the crowd, a sea of sweat and sex and secrets. Hands groped me, and I moved into their bodies for a second before I danced away, elbows out, eyes half-closed, face tipped to the ceiling. Smoke billowed, fog machine and weed somewhere and cigarettes. I’d forgotten not everywhere was smoke free. It all made me cough, but I breathed in deep anyway. I started smoking last summer, when we were all hanging out in old buildings drinking and dancing, and I wanted a cigarette now.
Hands brushed my arm, and I turned. A cute girl smiled at me, mouth closed. She was pale under the flashing strobe lights, and the smoke swirled around her. Her blonde hair and bright green eyes were the only splashes of color; her clothes were all black, velvet and leather. It was too hot for both of those things, but she wasn’t sweating at all.
She touched my arm again, and I stepped into her space. She was shorter than me, and thin, and her fingers were long, the nails sharp tipped and painted a matte black. Her hands dropped to my hips and pulled me closer still. My pulsed pounded, loud in my ears, the music louder still. The DJ moved between songs without pause and we danced through each transition without missing a beat. She didn’t say anything. Neither did I. We danced, twined together. I’d made the best choice in the world.
In the middle of the fourth song in, I heard it.
help
It was weird enough I stumbled, breaking our rhythm and nearly falling on my face. She caught me by one arm, held me upright. She was stronger than she looked.
help
“What’d you say?” I asked. Even as i said it, voice raised so she could hear me over the music, I knew it couldn’t have been her. She hadn’t opened her mouth, not once, though that smile lingered. Even if she had, I shouldn’t have been able to hear something that quiet over the music.
help
I staggered, and she braced me, pushed her body close to mine to take my weight. She stared at me, expression pinched, those green eyes huge in her delicate face.
“Let’s get some air,” she said. Her voice was lower than I expected, and I could smell something on her breath, a little sour. What she’d been drinking, maybe. I’d been thinking about kissing her, but I wasn’t sure now.
help
“Please,” I whispered. I stared at her, and my head started to spin. It was too smokey, the music too loud, my skin too hot. The room pressed close, the air humid as it filled my lungs. I leaned into her, heavy, and stumbled over half my steps.
She took me to the other side of the room, down a narrow, dark hallway. The bathrooms were there, and the air stank of piss and shit and puke, but it was cooler than out on the dance floor, and I felt a little better. I glanced at her, found her watching me. Her eyes sparkled, and she smiled wide enough to show her teeth.
“You look better,” she said. I nodded, but still sagged into her. “Let’s get out of here.” She squeezed her arm where it curled around my waist, and my thoughts turned again to kissing her, touching her. Letting her touch me.
help
The heavy metal door swung open when she pressed her hand against it and chilly air rushed over me. It wasn’t late enough in the season for real cold, but compared to inside the club, it felt arctic. I shivered and pushed closer to her, only partly because I wanted her to kiss me.
She wasn’t much warmer than the air, but she looked at me again, shining eyes and full lips.
The door clanged shut behind us, and she worked me back against the wall. The bricks scraped a little at my bare arms, but she kissed me, and I didn’t care, quick little kisses, one against my mouth, one against my cheek, one against my jaw. Her mouth settled on my throat, her teeth grazed my skin, and I shuddered against her. I’d never felt anything like that.
Another kiss, longer that time, deeper. Her teeth pressed against me, her hands were on my sides, curled hard against my skin, and pleasure rushed through me. I wanted her to touch me more, I wanted to taste her, I wanted, more than anything, for her to never stop kissing my throat.
Snicker-snack.
Something sticky and hot sprayed across my face, and the girl jerked away from me, tearing her teeth out of my throat. Pain slammed through me, driving the fog from my thoughts, and I snapped open my eyes.
The girl had fallen -- her body had fallen at my feet. Her head was a couple feet away. And standing in front of me was another girl: she was tinier still, five feet if anything. Her white-blonde hair was cropped into a pixie cut, she had a machete in one hand and a wide grin on her face, and her tank top and jeans were splattered with blood.
I looked from her to the body of the girl I’d been hooking up with to that girl’s decapitated head.
Then, I started screaming and couldn’t stop.
I met my second vampire when I was nineteen, and looked twenty-one, and was as scared as a baby tossed out into a bright, loud, dangerous world. I had a much better fake ID courtesy of Maggie -- the Tinkerbelle girl with the machete who’d been my guide in all things vampire ever since that night at the club more than a year ago -- a cross necklace in my pocket, way too much garlic bread in my stomach, and a brand new Zippo with a tiny little bat on it.
“You ready, Lucy?” Maggie asked. She sat on the end of one of the beds, sharpening her machete. She wore a black tank top with a dark green and black plaid shirt over it because the weather was cold. I was in a short red dress with cheap silver heels, glitter on my eyelashes and deep red lipstick on my mouth. My hair was curled and caught up off my neck, tendrils falling into my face.
Maggie was the finish. I was the tease.
“If I said no, what would you do?” I asked.
She smiled at me over her weapon. She had a beautiful smile, wide and a little frightening and feisty as hell. I got all of that from one simple expression. Yeah, I had it bad.
“I’ll wait outside the club and distract the vampire when he leaves. You’ll stay here. Luke’ll come along for back-up. It’ll be fine, we’ll do more training, or you can go back to normal life.”
She said that last part regularly. I learned about something dangerous and scary that night at the club. Maggie had learned the same thing in a different time and place. We weren’t the only ones, either. Luke and Maggie had been hunting together for three years before Maggie saved my life. Luke had hunted with his brother before that, but one night, a hunt went bad. All it took was a second.
I swallowed hard, swallowed my fear. It tasted a little like blood and a lot like puke. Then I forced a smile for Maggie.
“I’m ready.”
Her smile didn’t change, but there was a softness around her eyes that made me feel better.
This club was much fancier than the last, and expensive. The cover charge alone would have kept me out if I had been paying, but Maggie and Luke collected whatever money they could find from the vampires they killed, and they’d had a good run recently. We all worked day jobs to pay for rent and food, but that extra money helped in situations like this, where it was easier to put someone inside to draw out the vampire.
High-backed booths lined the walls, recessed for privacy. There were lush floral displays that wafted their sweet perfume into the air and three bars, all with glass and mirrors and subtle lighting. The music was quiet and easy, and beautiful people gathered around the room, chatting and laughing and sparkling under the soft light.
The vampire was easy to pick out, both because his clothes weren’t right -- he’d clearly used his powers to get himself inside and draw people to him -- and his skin shaded gray in the light, but the dead giveaway was the quiet voices I could hear when I got close.
Dead giveaway … oh, god, Maggie’s terrible punning had rubbed off on me.
The vampire was set up near the bar closest to the emergency exit at the back of the room, because of course he was. Easy access to the bathrooms or a dark alley as soon as he had a victim or two in his thrall. I got myself seltzer with lime so it’d look like I had a fancy drink, then leaned against the end of the bar as casually as I could.
Maggie had taught me exactly what to do next. I had to get the vampire’s attention, keep it long enough to convince him that I was the best choice of victim -- the easiest because that’s all they really cared about -- and get him out back for Maggie to finish off.
There were a lot of different ways to catch a vampire’s attention. They liked flushed skin and the long line of a throat and fingers stroked across pulse points and bare skin. I had all those things, but no matter what I did, he didn’t pay attention to me, not with a willing person practically sitting in his lap already. I sipped my drink, licked my lips -- nothing.
Blood -- blood would get his attention.
There was only one thing I could think of doing, and it was going to make me look ridiculous.
I sauntered away from the bar, crossing in front of where he sat. When I was just past him, I tripped and fell to my knees. I tried to make it look like I was trying to catch myself with my hands, but instead slammed the glass against the floor as hard as I could.
Too hard, much too hard. It shattered in my hand, shredding my palm. I shrieked and clutched my hand to my chest. Blood slid through my fingers, splattering on the floor, and I felt faint.
Hands curved over my shoulders, cool and dry.
“Clumsy girl.” His voice was pitched low and full of amusement. “Let me help you up.”
I forced myself to giggle, high and bright. “I don’t know what happened,” I chirped. It was harder than it should have been to sound lighthearted and drunk. “I was walking and whoops, I’m down here now.” I held my hand out, palm up, and didn’t have to act at all to bring tears to my eyes. “Look what I did. It hurts.”
“I bet it does.” His hands were steady as he helped me to my feet. He was strong, of course, stronger than he should have been. Strong enough he would cause real damage if he got ahold of someone who didn’t know what he was. He stared down at my hand; I curled it in to my chest, giving an exaggerated wince as I did so.
“Even the air hurts.” I didn’t mean the whine to enter my voice, but it did the job. He straightened and looked at me. I stared at his nose so he couldn’t mesmerize me. Even knowing what I knew, it was hard not to meet his eyes. That was the normal thing to do.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He patted my shoulder. “I’ll help you to the bathroom.”
That wasn’t what I wanted at all. He stared down at my hand again, and my pulse raced. His mouth opened, and he drew in a long, slow breath of air. Oh, god. He could taste my blood.
I leaned into him, forced another giggle, this one not as convincing, but he was already caught. The bartender came up to us with a first aid kit, but the vampire got rid of him with one look and a snapped order. I let the vampire lead me down the hallway, but before we reached the bathroom, I pretended to trip again.
“Oh,” I said. “I don’t feel so good.”
He tightened his arm around me. “You’ll be fine. I’ll help.” It would have sounded more believable if he wasn’t already drooling over my blood, but I couldn’t let him know that I’d noticed.
“I think I need to go home,” I said, voice faint. “My car’s just around the corner. Will you drive me?” I banked on him being eager enough for my blood to ignore the fact I had no keys to offer him, and there was very little parking nearby, and it was rare for people to drive to the clubs anyway.
It worked. He took me out the back door, which, as we’d discovered during our Maggie-led reconnaissance, led out to an alley with two big garbage cans and a lot of cover from the street.
The minute the door shut behind us, he shoved me into the wall. I hadn’t expected him to move that fast, though I probably should have. My shoulders hit hard, and it sent a jolt of pain through my hand. Fresh blood spilled, and the vampire made a strange hiss and lunged.
I fumbled, then upended my purse, spilling Zippo, cell phone, cash, and three cups of uncooked white rice. It scattered around us, and the vampire froze even as he bent over my palm, fangs bared. He hissed again when I pulled away, but didn’t stop me. Couldn’t stop me.
All he could do was start counting.
Something glinted in the shadows on the other side of the alley, and I knew it was time to move. I scraped my back getting out from behind the vampire. He counted quickly, gathering the rice pieces so fast I couldn’t follow how his hands moved, but we didn’t need more than another couple seconds.
Snicker-snack.
Maggie’s machete snapped out. The vampire’s head went flying while his body felt to the ground. And Maggie and I were spattered with blood.
“Not too bad,” Maggie told me. Even covered in blood, she was bright and happy.
I snorted. “Except for me nearly cutting off my hand.”
Her smile slipped a little at that, but then widened again. “You sure are dedicated to the cause, aren’t you?” Her wink made me laugh, which shook my arm, which made pain shoot through my hand.
“I’m dedicated to getting this taken care of, that’s for sure.”
“Let me finish up here, and we’ll get you home.” Maggie went over to the vampire. He wasn’t old enough to melt away, so there was plenty of time to search him for anything useful. He had no wallets but a ton of cash and a bunch of credit cards. Maggie left those, pocketed the cash, then set him on fire. He was old enough to burn fast, at least. Maggie wiped her machete clean with a handkerchief, then tossed the bit of stained fabric into the flames, too.
Once everything was ash, Maggie sheathed her weapon and held out her hand to me. “You did good,” she said, and smiled. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I took her hand in my good one and let her lead me home.
Claire sat on the worn-out sofa that marked our living room. Directly behind it was the bedroom, separated only by a heavy brocade curtain that had been on deep clearance at the fabric store and which I had turned into something nice.
“Running water?” she asked.
I nodded. “Almost did that at McDonald’s,” I told her. “If I’d clogged the toilet, it probably would have driven him out of the building. Of course, that wouldn’t have, you know, stopped him, so it wasn’t the best plan.”
She smiled, and for the first time in days, she looked like the adorable cashier she’d been when I first met her. I didn’t blame her for struggling. She learned about something dangerous and scary that night. Everyone needed time to adjust. Some people flat out ignored what they had seen, and they were happier for it.
Happier, yes. Safer? Maybe. In the long run, they might get caught in the same type of situation. Even if they did, though, they would be much, much safer than those of us who didn’t ignore what we’d seen. Maggie and Luke were like that, smart and brave and strong. I tried to be like them, sometimes with more success than others.
And it looked like Claire was one of us, too.
“Sleeping in coffins in dirt from their homeland?”
“Lots of them do, but I’ve never seen one die because they didn’t,” Luke told her. He sat on the floor in front of her, his grandad’s musket in the corner behind him, where he could grab it fast if he needed it.
They hadn’t been targeted since I moved in, but before, they’d had to leave a place because the vampires followed them home. It was part of why we lived in hole in the wall places and moved often. (Mostly it was a money thing; we went where the work was. Slaying work, day jobs, whatever.)
Claire frowned, looking adorably thoughtful. Just looking at her made me smile. “Mirrors?”
“Can’t see themselves, doesn’t kill them,” Maggie said. “Might help you spot them, but they’re pretty good at avoiding them.” She tossed a piece of popcorn at me. “She’s much better prepared than you were.”
I stuck my tongue out at her, which was childish, but made both her and Claire laugh, which was enough for me. Even Luke smiled a little, though things were still tense between us. They would be for awhile, but we had cleared the air and it would just take time. I trusted him to have my back. That would never change, no matter how things were between the three of us.
I turned down the heat under the mac and cheese and glanced over at Claire and Maggie, talking animatedly. The four of us, maybe.
“God, is dinner ready yet?” Maggie asked, flashing me that wide grin of hers I loved. “Popcorn’s not cutting it.”
If I’d had anything at hand, I would have tossed it at her.
“Get over here and fill your plate, then,” I said.
“What, you’re not going to fix it for me?”
I held up one of the two bowls I had. “Mine,” I said, then held up the second one, “Claire’s. The rest of you are on your own.”
But that was the good thing about it all. None of us were ever really on our own.
We didn’t have a kitchen table or anything, the kitchen was barely big enough for me to cook in, but when we were all settled on and around the couch, our tuna and mac and cheese doctored with hot sauce or black pepper or lemon juice or whatever other weird thing that we could find in the pantry, it was nice. Claire didn’t feel like a stranger, though she was.
It felt like she’d come home. Just like Maggie and Luke had, when they found each other. Just like I had, when Maggie found me.
“Specific type of wood for a stake?” Claire asked, and that set Maggie off on one of her favorite topics.
I ate, and watched them, and chimed in when I could.
We’d all met the dangerous, scary things that went bump in the night, one way or another, and now we were here, all of us together, victims once, but never again. We might die in this job, but we’d have a good time together until we did.
Claire grinned at me, bumped her leg against mine.
I’d never been more grateful that I considered McDonald’s a treat.