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You had heard rumours surrounding that house for a few weeks. Whispers of an Old One mixing with werewolves and ghosts. One you'd heard of before. The vampire who turned you worshipped the ground he waltzed on. The great Hal Yorke. Ruthless and bloodthirsty, you thought that description sounded a little far-fetched.
You'd been on your own for a while when you met him. You were a little disappointed to say the least.
Being at a rundown café on Barry Island was not how you saw your immortality going. Being merely 20 when you were dragged into this afterlife led to some obstacles.
You watched through your prismatic eyes at the men working behind the counter. One was northern with a buzz cut and the other looked familiar to you. He had mud coloured hair, similar to yours, a grand English accent and was visibly anxious. He emitted all the symptoms of a recovering drug addict. Under your gaze, he turned and fled to the security of the kitchen.
Still not remembering where you recognised him from, you approached the front. You could hear angry mumbling coming from the kitchen, "Get out there... attractive women... stake... swimming pool... Tom...good behaviour."
The combination of voices distinct but confusing. They went quiet. A thud followed with a shout of "Ow!". Both men walked through the doorway, the English one rubbing his leg while the northerner looked proud of himself.
"Sorry about him he's new." As he spoke, the unique scent of werewolf disturbed your nose. You tried to hide your reaction but they noticed it. "You must be a new addition to the area, not seen you in here before."
The high-class one remained silent though nervous, "Yeah, I arrived last week and haven't had chance to see the sights." You said, straight-faced.
"Let me introduce myself and my friend, I'm Tom and this is Hal." Tom outstretched his hand and they both smiled, "I'm sorry I have to go." You head through the door onto the street outside. They remain stood their, Tom's hand outstretched.