Daughter of the Night

I put down my book with a satisfied sigh. History was sure gratifying, especially since when you lived through it and had no idea what was going on until you read a textbook like the one I had in my lap.

I could tell from a huge clock on the wall that the time was about three in the morning. Caressing their worn covers, I deposited the books in their proper locations among the racks of shelves.

On my way out, I dipped my head courteously to the librarian at the front desk, careful to make sure my red irises didn't’t flash in the light. My cloak fluttered as I passed silently through the rotating doors, releasing myself into the presence of the night. The hot air hit me in the face, as solid as any baseball, although of course I was immune. The smoky, gasoline-filled smells of the street hit my senses.

“Hey, there,” a voice from my left. I looked over, at first shocked that someone was actually talking to me, and then annoyed when I saw who it was.

“I thought I told you to leave,” I hissed, no longer careful to hide my fangs.

He grinned wryly. “You did. And I apologize for interrupting your reading. I know that some people can get incredibly cranky when their attention is diverted from a good book.”

I stared at him for a second, uncomprehending of where he was going with this. He thought I had blown him off because I was too absorbed in my book? Nevermind stupid, this boy was delusional.

“This isn't’t an hour for someone of your age to be aimlessly prowling the streets,” I pointed out, trying a new tactic. “Don’t you have school in the morning, or something?”

He pulled a face. “Are you kidding? It’s July! And on top of that, it’s a Friday!”

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. “A job, then?”

He smiled, glad that we had come to a topic he could relate to. “I was just coming home from that, actually, when I saw you. I had been wanting to find you since I got out of the hospital a few weeks ago, and it was my luck that I caught sight of you. I followed you on your way over, but I lost you for a few minutes when you disappeared into the library. I didn't’t think you’d read, see,” he explained, grinning apologetically.

I looked him up and down. He was at about 79% of his full strength, I could tell from looking at him. Another vampire thing. It made sense that he had only been released recently, but not so much that he was looking for me. I had, after all, nearly killed him.

“You do realize that stalking a vampire can have serious repercussions?” I asked testily. It had only been because I was so exited for the library that I had failed to notice the person tailing me. If I had picked up on it, that person would find themselves pinned by their throat against a building two stories off the ground and an angry vampire snarling into their face.

Being predators of the night, we didn't’t take too well to being stalked, see.

He smiled that boyish smile again, and my annoyance flared as well as something I couldn't’t put a finger on. “Seeing as I’m not dead, you forgive me,” he said mischievously.

“What are you doing with a job that goes until two in the morning, anyways?” I asked, partly out of curiosity and partly out of a desire to change the subject.

“I’m a-,”

“Bartender,” I finished, mentally slapping my forehead. That would explain how he got into such a sticky situation in the alleyway. I wasn't’t normally so stupid to pick up these things. His easygoing personality and late hours also pointed out the profession. “Isn't’t that illegal? I mean, are you even above the drinking age?”

He prickled somewhat. “I’m a junior, actually.”

I paused, raising an eyebrow. “At NYU?”

“That’s right.”

Huh. I knew that NYU was a hard school to get into. In order to do so, you had to be relatively intelligent. Funny, since this boy struck me as someone lacking in that department.

“Good thing you nearly got murdered in the summer, then, or else you’d be behind in your classes.” I had no idea why I was talking about college with a mere boy when I myself was nearing a century.

“Yeah, I am lucky, although I can’t take the physical health course I wanted to. I’ll probably have to take that calc course I wanted to push back until senior year.” He pulled another face. Man, this boy loved to talk. I wasn't’t even sure that the word vampire had crossed his mind.

“What the hell were you doing in a bar fight, anyway? And aren't’t you still young to be serving alcohol to the midnight crowd?”

He stiffened, then relaxed, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets.

“It’s just a college crowd,” he muttered. “They’re all my age. And it’s not exactly on par with the law, but neither is breaking into a hospital from five stories up.”

I stared at him for a minutes before surprising both of us with a peal of laughter. After a second I realized it was mine. It had been such a long time since I had last laughed, I was surprised I even still could.

Still chuckling, I itched the cross mark on the back of my neck. “True,” I agreed, “although I’d like to think of myself as above the law, so I’m removing myself from this discussion.”

He tilted his head, considering me like I actually interested him. It had been a long time since anyone looked at me with anything except fear or at the very least a growing sense of anxiety.

“Why?” he asked. “You’re a citizen, aren't’t you?”

I looked at him like he had sprouted three heads before allowing a grim sense of amusement to wash over my features. “Legally, I’ve been dead for eighty years or so.”

His jaw dropped.

“What did you think?” I asked skeptically.

“Well, I thought you could pass as, you know, slightly eccentric or something...”

I laughed harshly, something I had had practice at. “More like Gothic, at the very least.”

He grinned fleetingly. “I accede your point.” His face turned somber then, the lamp lights reflecting in his deep green eyes. I hadn't’t noticed what long lashes he had up until that point. “Anyways,” he went on, “I never got to properly thank you for saving my life. So thank you.”

I studied his honest face. The last time someone had thanked me, it had been before World War II. This boy was interesting.

“So,” he continued, “I wanted to show my appreciation by treating you to, I dunno, a Starbucks or something.”

I was momentarily confused before I realized that he was referring to a chain of coffee shops that were popular in New York. I didn't’t have the heart to tell him I couldn't’t eat food without paying for it with crippling stomach cramps later on. After all, my digestive system was technically dead.

“I would enjoy that,” I said. I had to admit, I caved at the offer of company. I had managed to retain my sanity after all this time, but that didn't’t mean I appreciated going solo for decades. Actually, it kind of sucked.

I turned on my heel, striding confidently towards the nearest Starbucks. He could keep up, I was sure.

After a few minutes of silent walking, we came to a building with the trademark green neon sign hanging over the doorway. He generously pulled open the door and gestured me inside. I did so smoothly, my cloak fluttering behind like some sort of extension of hair.

I felt his eyes on the back of my neck and I realized that my long hair was cascading over my shoulder, exposing my neck and the brand of the cross upon it. Annoyed, I flipped my hair back over my neck.

The inside of the store was small and cramped, although there was certainly a dearth of customers. A sea of tables and chairs covered the entire floor, the pale green walls eerily lit by dimmed fluorescent lighting. Besides the girl at the counter of the shop, there was no one else.

“So,” he began as we stood standing in the entrance way of the cafe, “what can I call you besides ‘vampire’? It’s hard to eat with a person when you don’t know their name.”

I considered him briefly. My human name had been Cassandra, something I had hated dearly and had shedded along with my other human traits. I hadn't’t gone by that name for decades. After a moment, I decided to tell him the name the other vampires knew me as.

“Cross,” I said shortly.

An uncertain smile flitted across his features. “Isn't’t that kind of ironic?”

I frowned slightly, shifting my weight onto my opposite foot. “I’m going to overlook that comment,” I said frostily. I’m relatively sure he got the message. “Anyways, you must have a name. I can’t really keep calling you ‘boy’, either.”

He smiled again. “I’m Aaron. What would you like to eat?”

Aaron, huh? Studying his shaggy black hair, bright green eyes, and metal eyebrow stud, I decided the name fit.

I turned to the counter; it was designed out of glass so that you could select a muffin or whatever by looking at it through the counter. Just the thought of solid food made my stomach do a cartwheel, and I looked up at the menu in hopes of pursuing a liquid instead.

“Green tea,” I told the girl at the cash register. Hopefully I could get through the drink without feeling like I was dying all over again. From the way there were empty coffee cups scattered all over the counter, I got the impression she was drinking her own merchandise to stay awake through her shift. She nodded blearily and punched a few buttons on her register.

“Mocha Late,” Aaron said beside me. The girl nodded again, pressed a few more buttons, and turned to fix our orders.

As I waited, I looked around the cafe. I had maybe another two and a half hours before I was forced back underground for the day. I doubted this would take much longer, though. The boy was energized, but eventually his feet would drag and he would long for a bed. And he would depart.

The girl handed us our drinks and collected the money from Aaron, scooping a bunch of change from the register and handing it back to him.

Picking up our drinks, I selected a small table up against the wall and sat down there. The door was clear in my view, so I could see who passed in and out.

The boy took his seat across from me, sliding his late towards himself and sticking a straw into it.

“I’m just curious, but how is it you were at those mens’ funerals, if you can only go out at night?”

I blinked at him. “Oh, well I was sleeping in the basements of the churches underneath. I heard every word exchanged and every tear shed. Eight times over. Apparently their families were all friends.” I looked away, moody that our conversation had somehow arrived back at this topic.

That instant, I saw the door swing open and a familiar stench hit my nose. Snarling, I leaped out of the seat, my hands curled in front of my body like claws.

The men entered slowly, their massive builds only emphasized by their muscle shirts and leather biker pants. Grizzly beards and wild eyes took me in with a wolfish expression as I crouched in front of the table.

Three werewolves. I could take them.