Twisted Firestarter [Open]

[Jesse Fforde]

I scratch an itch that doesn’t exist at the back of my head. Though it might look like I’m paying no attention, I am; even as I was walking away I heard what Kleo said, and I acknowledged that she had a point. I am alert to all the sights and sounds around us. I know that though the club might be busy, everyone is content to stay inside. No one else has bothered to come outside. And even if they do, they’ll probably foxtrot to their cars, into the warmth of the interior, and they’ll leave. They won’t hang around in the cold. They won’t go searching through the underbrush for anything. And really, in this weather, what reason does anybody have to go searching through the thick shrubs? Maybe those bodies will stay there until Summer, when they’ll finally start to break down properly. When they’ll start to stink. By then we’ll be long gone, as well as all evidence of us.

I am aware that Kleo is following me, and there’s no reason why she shouldn’t. I don’t turn around to acknowledge her, however, until I have reached my bike. I turn to lean up against the machine, arms crossed over my chest. I chew on the inside of my lip for a second or two. What if Kleo were a progeny of mine? What if she were my responsibility? And what if, for some reason, one of mine were in this situation with some other vampire, somewhere? I’d want that other vampire to offer some semblance of aid, wouldn’t I?


As she comes closer I stare only at those eyes of hers. They really are kind of magnificent, the way they catch the light. I hum, just once, before clearing my throat.

”What happened? Between when we went into that copse and until after we’d finished. What happened that could have triggered it?” I ask. It’s a pertinent question, I think. Perhaps once she realises what happened to trigger the eyes, she can try to reverse it.

”Can you see differently?” I ask, only because it’s somewhat important to the outcome. How is she supposed to know when she is or is not wearing those eyes if she can’t actually tell when they’ve changed?

When I speak, I almost look human out there in the crisp night. It’s only after I’ve had a full, hot meal that I can breathe steam, at least until my body freezes the blood that it has just consumed. But as it warms my internal organs, it causes whatever friction between hot and cold to create that small little miracle of breathing steam. I kind of like it.