Road Trip Gone Wrong {Clover & Jesse}

[Katalina Black (DELETED 9968)]

It had been ten hours. Ten hours from nice city life to bumb-****-nowhere. In a car too small to really fit the four of them much less the chatter going around. Katalina herself had her head pressed against the window for the past hour. What even brought her on this little adventure? She had begun to question it herself but she knew good and well why. Any reason to get away from her parents- even if it was with these friends. More like morons. "Kat, will you be a dear and get the eyeliner from my luggage. It is closer to you." Says a voice too high pitch for anyone's well-being. It wasn't a question, Katalina wondered whether this girl had ever heard the word 'no' in her life. Probably not. Suppressing a sigh and the want to tell her exactly what she could do with that makeup, Katalina clicked loose her seat belt and pulled her knees up to turn around and dig for Evelyn's make up bag. She took her sweet time too, not that the sway of the vehicle going through curves helped but she would have done it anyway. Zipping up the rolling bag, she turned to find beady blue eyes staring back at her. Well, they weren't exactly beady, more almond shaped beauty slathered under too much black and baby blue eyeshadow. With a quipped "Thanks!" Evelyn faced the little dash mirror as if nothing else existed but her bleach blonde locks and blush palette. As if she needed more, I mean seriously. Katalina hadn't worn that much makeup in her whole life. A little crimson-ish lipstick and touch of dark mascara, yes, but not enough to walk around like everyday was Halloween. She let out a deep sigh, not even bothering to rebuckle in and let her head take its former position against the cold, yet comforting glass. Not two seconds later before a boney elbow nailed her side. "Hey, lighten up princess only half an hour to the nearest city, isn't that right Care-bear?"
"Completely. And I don't care what you guys think, we are stopping there for the night since none of you want to drive." The person driving, oh yeah. That was Carrie. No doubt little miss Evelyn's big sister. They looked just alike; same hair, same ocean eyes, willowy build, and even though they were a year apart, little was different between them with the exception of the elder being a bit more practical. The person sitting next to her on the other hand- that was Rosemary. She was Evelyn and Katalina's age but had to hold the soft heart of the group. Once Kat knew Rosemary was going, well, she couldn't leave her to the two lions in the front seat. Not that she appeared all that different with her sun tanned skin and curly black hair but Rose was the closest any of them would ever become to her having something that was considered care or love. The girl had a way about her, something that shown in those gunmetal grey eyes that was more in depth than the other two would ever comprehend. Katalina admired, respected and trusted that for a long time. But even she knew she'd never fully understand.
"I don't know about you Rose, but I’m ready to chill. Oh and please for heaven's sake do not go on a hunt for the world's most expensive hotel this time. I know you're rich. But I just want a bed." She called from the back. Evelyn scoffed but it was up to Carrie to stop the wage of war again. "To be honest hun, Katalina is right. You know mom and dad are not paying for this excursion and I certainly am not spending all of mine either." By the expression on Rose's face, she didn't agree with Carrie and Katalina either but before Evelyn could open her wide mouth, a sign and city glowed in the hazy light of afternoon.

It read: Harper Rock

After heing and hawing for the past 30 minutes, the group finally made do with a semi-compromisable suite but the extra ride alone had Katalina wondering if she should have said anything at all. Not to mention the fact that, looking at the others, yeah no one was getting sleep tonight. Probably why Carrie booked the room nextdoor and the last one available. Evelyn and Rose were giving her the death stare. Not the best welcoming party. “You realise if you didn’t want me here, you should have ditched me in Minnesota.” She spat with the same destain they were giving her and made her way to the bathroom. Didn’t look too shabby considering she felt like hell that was trying to freeze over. Her dark-chocolate hair still had its natural waves to it and she didn’t seem to have any bags under her muddy hazel eyes. Good enough to her. The reflection detailed her fashionably knee ripped black skinny jeans, ankle length two inch heeled boots and mid-violet sliced on the sides top. It seemed almost odd compared to the brightly dressed girls around her but she gave it little thought after a quick stop and back out among the prima donnas. Eve gave her an edged grin as if saying ‘you know why you're here, *****.’ No doubt, she did but she didn’t care. If all went well, it didn’t matter. And if it didn’t, well, Kat had her own plans these little witches would never even think about. “Kitty-Kat...” Rosemary had started but Katalina cut her off. “I’m going out for some fresh air. You ladies won’t need me until we go to pack tomorrow and the real work doesn’t start till we get to Baie-James so I’m going to enjoy the little bit of vacation I have.” With that, she walks out the door making sure to give it a hard shut.

Katalina wasn’t sure how much distance she tracked between her and the hotel. More than a few blocks, tell you that. Yes, it wasn’t safe but she didn’t carry a pistol for nothing. Plus, anything had to be better than being stuck with those three and the peace was only calm before a storm in her mind. “If I didn’t need the money, I wouldn’t be here.” That was true. Oh so true. Her family couldn’t rub two nickels together after they moved to Minnesota and put Katalina in that private school for girls. She hated it but never had the gall to tell her parents that, not after what they gave up for her to be there. The only reason she was with this group was because-

The thrum of music could be heard a block over and it’s lure seemed to snap her out of the deep thoughts. This appeared to be more of a gutter side of town. Had she really been that out of it? There were more people out here than she would have assumed but it just made blending in easier. Bump a man on the arm, slip twenty dollars from behind his back. To her, it was that simple. Paying off the bouncer with forty. Twenty his, twenty hers and no one would bat an eye. Strobe lights and the beat of techno rang in her ears and distorted her vision but the sound soon took over and freed her mind as it did the other lost souls around her. Little did she know the danger that lurked all around her, but damn it felt good to be free.

[Clover]

On that particular night, the two of them spent some quality time together. Clover didn’t think they were desperate for the time, since they’d only just strengthened their bond, re-establishing a connection they knew existed there when they first got together. But she enjoyed their time together. Clo enjoyed any time they spent together. And so, as she sat on the living room sofa, legs tucked underneath her, she decided that they needed more than a relaxing scene at home. They needed to dress up, to go out, to live a little. Clo needed Jesse to feel as if they were on another adventure, voyaging to the location of another surprise. So when she let her legs drop, let them fall over the edge of the cushions, she placed a kiss to his cheek. She didn’t say anything to him as she got up, leaving her comfortable seat behind. The television show would have to wait; Clo would never know the end of the tale, the girl’s killer forever a mystery. But it didn’t bother her at all. She left him to decide whether he would follow her or not.

In the bedroom, Clo went to the dresser first, and then she went to the closet. She had too much clothing, most of her items stored in containers on the top shelve of the dresser. And yet the clothing she selected hung there, right in the midst of the fabric jungle. She grabbed her black leggings, her black tank top, and a black-and-white striped sweater. The shoes came from the bottom of the closet, a pair of wedged booties she’d only just bought a few days prior. Perhaps it came as no surprise that she had too much clothing. Sometimes, she had too much free time. Clothing laid out on the bed, she went for a shower instead of a bath. If things were different, both of them would have needed a lot less clothing. She could have worn shorts and a tank top. The club atmosphere was usually hot, the place packed with sweaty bodies gyrating to the newest electronic beat. But they didn’t sweat. They had no need to reduce clothing. And if they did, just to fit in, Clo would remove her sweater.

Every club reminded her of the night she killed her friends, the night she killed June. She’d thought it would hurt a little less as time passed, until she could eventually come to acceptance, until she could eventually forgive herself. How many times had she heard their voices in her head? How many times had she replayed that night? Over and over again, like a broken record. And yet, when she entered through the doors to the club, she forgot that night. She found nothing familiar, and she moved on. The thoughts lingered, the faces and the voices lingered, but she moved on. Was it wrong to move on? Was it wrong to want a life outside of a bubble filled with regret and unhappiness? Clo imagined that June would have wanted her older sister to be happy. She imagined whatever she needed to imagine.

Clo put her head under the stream of water and then pressed her forehead against the shower wall. The water hit over her bare back and trickled down over her skin, cutting wavering lines over her tattoos. The water was hot, though not quite bordering on an uncomfortable level; still, she reveled in the way it made her skin feel. Her pale flesh became a rosy red. She felt human again. With heat. With blood. She was a real girl.

“Let’s go to a club,” she said, knowing exactly when Jesse had slipped into the shower. She didn’t need to turn, but she did. She draped her arms over his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his lips. They showered together. “It’s a rave. I got an invitation from the jazz club. Be my date?” She kissed him again, knowing he’d say yes, knowing he’d accompany her to the party. Because going to the party meant spending time together. Going to the party meant having fun together. They needed more action beyond the walls of their apartment, beyond the realm of Circle.

Showered and dressed, Clo made sure she had two knives in holsters near her ankles, each one concealed by her leggings and the top of her black wedge boots. She usually chose to leave her guns behind, especially when faced with crowded places. She wanted to blend in, not draw attention to herself. It took her longer to get ready than it did Jesse, so she met him out in the main area. That night, she didn’t want to wander the streets of Harper Rock. That night, she wanted a rave. They took the fadeportal to the slums.

[Jesse Fforde]

W E A R I N G

They used to go out all the time, but that was normal, wasn’t it? For every couple, everywhere—when they start dating, they have to get to know each other. Young and thriving and free, they party and they eat dinner, they go for long walks holding each other’s hands. Of course, Clover and Jesse bonded in different ways, though it’d still required they leave the house. But then they move in together. They got married. They fell into a routine; they fell into the comfort of familiarity. Jesse was just as happy staying in as going out and, when Clover got up with the mild suggestion that he should follow, he thought that her boredom meant that they were headed for the bed—and not to sleep.

Instead, he was led to the shower which, even there, he’d thought it was nothing more than a shower. A pre shower. When she spoke, he hadn’t expected the suggestion. Out, she said, and he arched a brow. It was a hint that he should perhaps keep his hands to himself otherwise they wouldn’t end up going anywhere.

A rave. At a jazz club? It sounded like a strange combination, and perhaps he had heard wrong. Or he understood wrong. Regardless, he shrugged his shoulders and nodded. Sure! Why not? There were no words to utter his acquiescence; his tongue remained a stubborn stub, and he continued to keep his voice to himself. Somehow, he understood that the wound was still unhealed because he didn’t want it to heal. He wondered, idly, whether it would grow back if he wanted it to, or whether it was now too late. He didn’t test the theory. Not yet.

Jesse flicked through his phone as he waited for Clover, though he wasn’t waiting too long. He, too, wore attire that fitted the season; it was starting to get cold, and so the leather jacket clung to his torso like a second skin. It was one of his favourites.

They could have walked but the portal was quicker; they reached their destination in record time, and though Jesse allowed Clover to lead them to his destination, he did so with an arm looped casually over her shoulders. Long before they reached the rage, they could see it. They easily bypassed the line; the bouncer was too terrified of the tongueless vampire to do anything but let them pass. This was the kind of scene where most of the warm bodies present would have been high, or drunk, or completely out of it on some brand spanking new drug. On ecstasy, at least. The vampires were immune, however. They had to find their highs elsewhere. The music wasn’t exactly Jesse’s favourite, though he could hear the appeal; despite his dislike it still got under skin, urging him to move. To dance. They didn’t have to go to the bar. Their dance needed no foreplay—Jesse did not hesitate to thread his fingers through Clover’s and lead her onto the dancefloor.

Surrounded by heat, by sweating, blooming humanity—he knew there was no way they were getting through this evening without spilling blood.

[Katalina Black (DELETED 9968)]

This is the exact opposite of what she would have been doing five years ago. It almost seemed like a dream. Something her mind had dreamed up to escape the true reality. Because five years? That felt like yesterday. Maybe the day before. But that life was far behind her if only she'd bare to look behind instead of trying to pretend it didn't all melt away. The lights moved in dizzying formations with a sound that was so familiar now, but so foreign back then. That's how much had changed in the little bit of existence she knew. All that she did know is that she'd never again be home, not in any emotional sense and after tomorrow, who knows if she'd ever go back there physically either? Not that she had much to go back to with her mother in the hospital and her father losing his mind.

The movements her body made barely felt like her own. The sway of her hips slowly falling out of sync as her mind coiled like a snake inside itself. ‘Once this is done, it'll all be over.’ She had told herself over and over. All that she had to do was go in, steal the cardkey, hack the system, take the specificated names and transfer the cash. It's something her brother could have made look like child's play. Then again, he's dead because his own boys turned against him. No one knew for sure but Katalina had a hunch. It didn't matter. Her father didn't care and her mother wouldn't know. Guess she was just like Mark then, either no one cared or no one knew. After four years of that treatment, it doesn't faze you the way it used to. Or maybe it did and she didn't let anyone else in on it other than herself. With a nudge of a body brushing up against hers, realisation came back that she was standing there. The music sounded like more of a pulse to her ears rather than a pleasant beat. Slipping deeper into the crowd, she knew she couldn't go back and face Rose or Evelyn. Not with everything that weighed on her. It was better here, where everyone was but no one was watching. A place where only she knew who she was and everyone else was oblivious.

The bar just had to be in the very back of the club. Of course it did. Katalina rolled her eyes. But there was one thing she had to give this place, the decor wasn't cheap with its redwood counter and plush seats even if she didn't sit. Her hand went to her jeans and pulled out a plastic case that she couldn't bring herself to call a wallet. It only held another fifty bucks and an ID giving her the age of twenty-one. She had two more just like it hidden in the bottom of her luggage within the fabric. When you had friends like Rosemary, vanishing completely on paper was easy. If only cameras weren't real, right?
Katalina showed it to the bartender who gave her a look of exasperation. Apparently she should have gotten verified at the door, as he told her pointedly. Looking at the sea of people, she should have known better but every place seemed different or maybe she just didn't like to adjust to the city. She started to take a few steps before she heard a “Hey!” and turned around to find him waving her back. No doubt he probably thought it was her first time, letting her “slip through the cracks just this once.” Giving her a wink that would make any normal girl blush by the looks of him but she didn't feel it, not even as she returned his expression with a grin and order of Wild Turkey 101. He gave her a wry smile but poured the three shots. She downed the first in a heartbeat and only a minute before washing it down with a second. Anything, to wipe the thoughts away, if only for a few hours.

Her head felt buzzed but light even when she polished off the last shot, not bothering to look at the expression of the man who had poured them. Katalina turned, bumping into a woman with drinks in her hands and having the liquid splash all over both of them and spill on the floor. The redhead was livid and started screaming at Katalina, telling her she was going to pay for the drinks and her brand new clothes. Still to this day, she didn’t know why she did it but Katalina’s anger boiled and popped like a cork, all of it went to one punch that clocked the woman in the nose, sending her to her knees. No doubt, it was bleeding and broken. She stepped over the body, still fuming, as it lay clutching its face. The girl had to get out of there and she’d rather do it without an escort. As if to add fuel to the fire, she would have to walk home without being noticed by a police officer. Her tank-top was soaked with alcohol and if that didn’t top it off, she was under the influence. She may not know how they do it in Canada but in the United States, that's a public intox, not to mention that the fake ID she used had her actual name and if they were to run it...Yeah not fun. She growled having found out that the doorway was blocked by two idiots clearly not bound to get out of her way. Too pissed to care that they loomed over her by more than an inch or two, and clearly had the mark of ‘don’t **** with me’ air about them with his spiked leather and her dark clothing, Katalina shoved between the couple, pushing them apart and making them step back, if only out of pure surprise. Hitting the fresh air, she peered down at her right hand. It was crimson but the blood between her knuckles was not her own and nothing was broken.

[Clover]

The hot interior and the cold exterior left a thin layer of condensation on the windows lining the second level of the club. The place was a warehouse, at one time, and then it fell victim to the allure of pop-up clubs. The White Rabbit. That had been the name on the card she’d gotten from the jazz club. When she arrived, with Jesse right beside her, his arm draped over her shoulders, she took in the exterior of the club. A line snaked around the exterior of the building, reminding her of the jazz club, except the White Rabbit seemed much more exclusive. Men and women shared the line, most of them wearing tight clothing, and very few trickled in through the entrance. Two bouncers stood at the head of the line: One bouncer controlled the list of names, while the other bouncer opened and closed the door. Clo really thought she’d have to pay some guy for entry, or at least shed her sweater and readjust her cleavage, but Jesse’s way got them straight past the line and through the entrance. The bouncer opening the door for them wished them a good time, but Clo knew he didn’t care one way or another. Jesse had frightened him and the man had reacted as quickly as possible, letting the threat pass right through the main door and into the club.

The Cataracs pumped through the speakers, the lyrics wasted on bodies that only recognized heavy bass. Jesse led the way to the dance floor, and Clover put up no fight. The last time they'd really gotten out and partied, they'd been at a blacklight party. Clo remembered covering her exposed flesh in paint; she remembered raising her hands in the air and losing herself to the beat. She'd experienced the party she should have experienced all those years ago. The White Rabbit offered something else entirely, and Clo appreciated every second. Even while she danced with Jesse, having guided his hands to her hips, she took in the people around her. Sweaty bodies grinding on one another. Women barely wearing clothing at all. And one woman standing perfectly still. Clo nudged her chin in the direction of the woman, hoping Jesse understood. Look, she wanted to say. Look at that young woman so lost in her thoughts she couldn't even enjoy the party. Clo wanted to say her fascination ended there, but that would have been a filthy lie. When the girl left the dance floor, Clo's eyes followed the her movements.

Clover didn't stalk anymore. She repeated the words to herself, the fact like a mantra in her mind. The woman didn't look old enough to drink, but the bartender still served her shots, as if age no longer mattered. Someone bumped into Clo, and another body obscured her line of sight. The nameless woman simply disappeared, hidden behind bodies, and maybe it was for the better. And then someone tried moving on Clo, his body pressed against her. He tried speaking over the music, but his words were hidden underneath the beats from DJ Snake. Glass shattered. The sound of bone breaking followed. Clo laced her fingers with Jesse's and tried pushing her way through the crowd. The closer they drew, the stronger the scent of blood. She stopped dead in her tracks, nostrils flaring, and took in the smell of the alcohol-tainted blood. When bodies moved, shuffling away from the bar, Clo caught sight of the bartender and his bleeding patron. He used cocktail napkins to try and ease the blood flow, but the deep red liquid flowed over the woman's lips and down her chin, staining her blue dress. Out of the corner of her eye, Clo caught sight of that nameless woman hauling *** out the door. No doubt her handiwork. The song changed, no transitioning moment between, and Clo moved forward. The fact that they were in a club made no difference. Blood was blood. It took her a second to realize that there were eyes on her. The crowd seemingly parted. Was it Jesse's doing? She couldn't think straight. She stopped breathing. That heavenly scent disappeared. The image remained. The reality remained. She stood on the proverbial cliff, just waiting to jump.

When they made it outside, they made it outside with the injured woman. Clo had every intention of painting herself with the woman's blood. The poor woman had been crying the whole way, but the music had drowned out her sobs. Without the music, at the back entrance of the club, the empty alleyway heard her clearly. Again, Clo caught a glimpse of the nameless woman -- the heels had given her away. But she wasn't the priority, not then. Clo parted her lips, so focused on the promise of fresh blood, and then bit down, hard, on her prey’s wrist. All of her teeth shredded the flesh and went right down to the bone. Blood flooded her mouth like an unobstructed river of crimson red. Alcohol. Drugs. Fear. No, absolute terror. Clo chewed and slurped and swallowed. The blood simply pooled in her mouth, swept over her tongue, and coated the back of her throat. She wanted more. She needed more. An endless river of blood.

[Jesse Fforde]

Once they were on the dance floor, Jesse had eyes only for Clover. His hands were only for Clover. His body, only for Clover. He was of course aware of the others surging and bumping around them, the crowd to thick for them to avoid Jesse completely; with so many bodies thriving and gyrating on one dance floor they wouldn’t be able to properly discern where their unease originated from. The thirst curled in his throat, an insatiable beast, but it was tempered by the promise of satisfaction later. The longer it went without satiation the better the taste when it was finally given reprieve.

Jesse’s lips were only for Clover’s skin, the bristles of his stubble caressing her cheek and her jaw, an exploration of skin just as his fingers re-explored her curves. No, the music might not have been what he would listen to daily, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t move to it.

When Clover nudged her chin in the direction of some girl standing still on the dancefloor, Jesse struggled to haul out of his trance. He had to blink to bring her into focus and there was only one thing that he understood. Something he and Clover had done before. Food. Were they ready to give up the dancefloor to hunt their prey? Did she want to kidnap the woman and take her home like they had done before? He had assumed this trip out into the city was about spending time together and not a hunting trip. He wanted to stay on the dancefloor just a little longer.

It was Clover who caught the scent of blood first. Jesse had been too preoccupied about spilling blood—the blood of the plebeian who thought he could grind up against Clover without consequence—that he thought he had imagined it. When her fingers slipped through his he wondered if it weren’t a ploy to get him to walk away from the intruder to avoid making a scene. It was only after a few seconds that he realised they were instead walking toward a scene.

The two vampires moved as one. They were linked, body and soul, and the blood called to them like a siren call. What was said to the bartender? Was anything said at all, or were they all just happy to get the bleeding, sobbing woman out of their way? Did they assume Jesse and Clover were her friends as they helped her up and dragged her outside? Was there anyone watching as Clover’s teeth tore into the flesh of her wrist?

All reason fled Jesse’s mind as he hummed and collected the remaining wrist. The skin was hot beneath his touch. The blood, fresh and vibrant, was an explosion upon his tongue. If the girl screamed he didn’t hear it. If she struggled, he held her in place. She was going to die here in this place. He and Clover should have been more careful. But in the heat of the moment, all care was vanquished.

[Katalina Black (DELETED 9968)]

She knew better than to scream- than to cause attention or run. The onlooker had to get away. Walk. Move. Yet she was trapped by her own gaze like a deer in the headlights.

Katalina had rounded the corner before the predators had snatched up their prey. She would have been gone by now, had she not heard what sounded like merely a whimper compared to the music pouring from the walls. Some part of her knew better, knew that whatever she was about to see was not going to be for her sight but her feet pivoted with the instinct of an animal. What she saw there made her heel shift, and grind on the pavement.

Two people- is that what they were? People? An uneasy feeling gnawed at her stomach and gripped her limbs like a vice. It was like a cold that stifled the coals burning underneath her skin. Their mouths were that of hunger and teeth. To anyone else further off, it might have looked like three people who couldn't hold off until later that night to get a room but Katalina could read the terror vibrating off the woman who she had just laid out on the floor just minutes before. It didn't feel like minutes anymore.
Blood seeped down and pooled in the woman's hands only to be lapped up seconds later. Her paper white body turned whiter, as if that were possible. Katalina felt her own time ticking out and that crawling sensation grew until it swallowed her. The frozen part of her turned over in a feeling that could only be described as the ignition of fire. A hostility that forced her to move. Not away from the danger- It's not something she would have done for someone she knew let alone didn't. But whether it be something in the air or the alcohol, she was slamming herself into the female creature. Needless to say, she had no idea what she had gotten herself into.

[Clover]

Memories filtered through her mind, moving along at speeds too fast for her to follow. Red. Green. Blue. Yellow. All of the colors blurred together into a massive mess. And then the images came into focus. Clover saw a little girl walking down the aisle of a church, a little diploma clasped in her tiny hands. She had vibrant red hair and a toothy grin; she looked so alive, so very alive. When the girl’s parents went to meet her, they both bent down and stretched their arms wide to envelope her in a hug.

“We’re so proud of you, honey,” the mother whispered into her daughter’s fiery curls. The girl let out a squeal of delight and practically threw herself at her parents. The little diploma fluttered to the ground, seemingly forgotten. All around the girl, other children had flocked to their parents to receive the same warmth. It was the girl’s first lasting memory, her most treasured memory, and Clover devoured it, drank it in as if it were nothing but worthless tap water. That little girl had such promise. She’d had a world of opportunities. The words played on repeat, even as the memory began to fray around the edges.

We’re so proud of you honey.

Guilt flooded her system in the way the blood flooded her mouth, but she refused to stop. She just couldn’t stop. She needed the blood in the way that humans needed air. When the memory finally disappeared, another memory took its place. Blood memories, every single memory etched into every single drop. As Clo fed, she fed on the redhead’s whole life. The fiery girl had grown into a fiery young woman. The teen had her arms locked around her boyfriend’s shoulders, her whole body seemingly weightless. She rode piggyback as he ran across an open field. She squealed at him to go faster, and he picked up speed. Clover had never seen such a beautiful sunset in all of her life. The flowers looked so beautiful, in colors that went beyond her spectrum. It was another memory the freckled woman held dear. The first time her boyfriend had told her he loved her. That overwhelming guilt surfaced again, rising like bile in the back of Clo’s throat.

Before she had the chance to reject her meal, to force herself away from the beautiful memories and spare the woman’s life, someone barreled into her. She couldn’t retract her fangs fast enough, so she tore a good chunk of flesh off the woman’s wrist and up her forearm. Clover ripped the bottom of the expensive blue dress. As Clo stumbled away, she braced her hands on her bent knees and retched, throwing up the blood and every memory she’d consumed. She couldn’t stand herself. She couldn’t stand what she’d done. That smiling little girl. That warm embrace. That seemingly endless field of lush tall grass and bright, yellow daisies. After she finished dry heaving, Clo raised her head and narrowed her eyes on the woman responsible for the whole scenario. The nameless woman from the club.

“Do you want to take her place?” Clo allowed a beat to pass before she spoke her next words. “Walk away,” she stated, making a walking motion with her index and middle fingers. Most people wouldn’t have interfered in the first place, and not for someone they’d only just victimized. Clo kept her eyes on the dark-haired woman, but she slowly crept closer to her victim. Abby. That had been the redhead’s name.

I love you, Abby.

Clo saw the boy cupping Abby’s face, whispering those words against her pink lips. With a growl of pure frustration, Clover wiped the back of her hand over her lips and chin, smearing the blood across her pale skin. She didn’t know why she gave the woman an opportunity to walk away, but she did. “You don’t even know Abby, do you? So what do you think you are, girl, a superhero? Are you going to save her?” Clo felt the poison gathering along her gums, flowing over her tongue. And in an instant, she bared her sharpened teeth and bit down on Abby’s bloody forearm, allowing the clear venom to pool in the wound, to spill over the sides.

We’re so proud of you, honey.

[Jesse Fforde]

The sudden interruption had Jesse reluctantly releasing their prey; flesh was torn and the scent of blood filled the air, the girl so pumped with vampiric poison that all she could do was whimper. The poison in Jesse’s fangs was potent in that it could, in some instances, initiate the change. He had no special interest in this girl who could allow herself to be beaten, to be so brought down by a bloodied nose. If she’d fought back it might have been a different story. As it was, he was looking forward to watching this girl’s body burn.

It was Clover who’d been interrupted, however; Clover who’d been slammed from the body and forced to stumble to the side. Clover who now retched, not-yet ingested blood splashing over the pavement. Jesse frowned and straightened. Had he ever seen her throw up her meal before? He didn’t think so—and they’d shared quite a few. He wanted to ask her if she was okay. He wanted to ask her what was wrong. But he had no tongue with which to form the words. And anyway, she was already confronting the interloper.

At first Jesse assumed she had some plan. This girl would become the second meal. Her blood would join that of… wait, what? Abby? Who the **** was Abby? What was Clover talking about? More questions he wouldn’t ask, especially given Clover’s apparent lenience. There was definitely something wrong if she was going to allow this girl to walk away. All that could be heard from the heavily inked Necromancer was a low and forceful growl. He circled Clover, shaking his head; his gaze was sharp, and it clearly said what the **** are you thinking?!

And then he was herding the would-be hero like a dog might herd a lost sheep. Blood dripped from his lips and over his chin, and he didn’t bother to wipe it away. He might have licked his lips but, again, he had no tongue with which to do so.

The girl was human, that much was obvious, and his aura ought to have the same affect on her that it did on any other human. She ought to be terrified. His mere presence ought to make her want to run for her life. The situation had potential to get out of control. They had a victim who was not yet dead and a witness who needed to be dead. And if Clover wasn’t willing…

Well, Jesse was more than willing to step up to the plate.

[Katalina Black (DELETED 9968)]

The next thing she felt was sharp, not skin. That's how fast her reaction was. She had barreled into this thing and smacked into the wall- bouncing off of it. Jagged metal had grazed her hand and slid up her forearm to her elbow leaving a scrap that took the several layers of skin just before it could start pulsing up blood. The world seemed to spin as she stumbled back. Somewhere between those seconds Katalina heard the sounds of regurgitation but she could not make her legs move forward to step between the woman and creature. Her eyes closed tight and opened again to a woman's voice; not Abby's but instead, the bloodsucker. At her words, Katalina’s mouth went dry. There was a part of her that wanted to fire back, fierce, but that numbing cold gnawed at her at the sight of blood caked on the woman's mouth even as she parted her shaking lips.
"But you do?” The words were meant to sound challenging, maybe even as accusing as the attacker did. Coming out however, was a small voice much like that of a hollow column of rouge wind. Another creature had stepped in front of her, blocking her view of the female. Tall and broad, a man if you could call it that. His low growl sent chills up her spine and down deep into her core. Run. Her whole body wanted to escape, to fly. A step back and another. Dark fangs glinted at her from beneath the thick layer of blood that dripped down his face. It was something from a nightmare. Vampire. Her mind seemed to say but it couldn't be. They weren't real. All the media was a hoax like the War of the Worlds radio cast or the whole conspiracy theory rigmarole. But she couldn't deny what stood in front of her, too genuine. Too real. Her trembling hand sprung to her side for her pistol only to find it's comforting weight vacant. How had she left without it? Terror instilled into the girl. Even if she took chase, she knew she was about to die.