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Dominique stared at the glass in front of her and saw nothing more reflecting in the Gran Patron Platinum Tequila than she did in the previous one that was emptied twenty minutes prior. She had no expectations but was increasingly open to surprises once the strength of the liquor began to work it’s magic. The shadow was relaxed as she did nothing to stand out from the other patrons. The curve of her hips were outlined with the navy blue dress that was sprinkled with white dots and random miniature flowers for its pattern. Her hair was long with casual curls falling down her chest and back. Within the space of the barstool she sat on in Lancaster’s her petite body was perched with her excessively inked arms and legs drawing the most attention if there was any at all. Mid-thigh down to her black ankle cut six inch heeled boots was a detailed canvas that told the stories she otherwise kept to herself.

The last time Dom wore a dress was to a funeral. She was not anticipating the need to be ready for another this particular night. It was as simple as the dress was there and she put it on. As her weight shifted to cross one leg over the other in an attempt to get comfortable she felt the pull of the white yoga shorts that clung to her beneath the skirting. Nothing would ever be predictable with the woman. Each layer would always be a bit off inside and out but a surprise none the less. That was always a good thing in her book. It was the type she was naturally drawn to. Sometimes painfully so.

The music was in effect and Dominique randomly entertained the beat with the infrequent bob of her head or a random lift of a shoulder. What was playing in the bar itself she couldn’t name but she was not deterred from enjoying it. She kept her eyes on the drink while working out its consumption ahead of time in her mind. The overhead music drowned out and soon there was always something playing in her mind to replace it. The Black Keys “My mind is ramblin’” gave her something to get into.

It was fitting because that is exactly what Dominique was trying to avoid as the curl of her fingers took possession of the glass and brought the clear rim to her lips. As the heat of the otherwise cool liquid spread out across the surface of her tongue she inhaled the scent of what she could not otherwise taste. This was how she appreciated consuming what most like her could not. It took time but she had found her palate was a ghost that would wake if she taught it to rely on her other senses to compensate. She was comfortably growing numb but was still aware that tomorrow night would be hell if she took on the challenge of a third drink. The Chulahoma album played on as the pleasure of the tequila stayed true to it’s course. It was a damn shame some were robbed of such.

The surprising sound of material gliding over the surface similar to what she was sitting on caught her attention and ‘Work Me’ was put on pause. The Black Keys were cool like that. They didn’t sweat the unexpected. The band faithfully rolled right along with her and took a break when she needed them to. Chocolate eyes as warm as the night air waiting outside drifted to the direction of the voice that offered a greeting. HOPE settled the glass in her hand down to the surface that wore a napkin to mark where it had been before. Doc’s wife appeared to be in the house.

The announcement had Dominique’s eyes taking in the fresh face with a dusting of angelic sprinkles. The features were nearly flawless in a complimenting frame of lush red hair that gave off its own warning as the lights above cast over it. The beauty made the first move by extending a confident hand between them. Dom’s lips lifted to the left side of her mouth as she was informed that her sire’s wife knew who she was. Interesting indeed. The subtle scent of tequila escaped her lips as they parted to extend the same courtesy to the one she had heard went by the name Cytherea. Her cool but healthy appearing hand closed around the one that belonged to Doc’s wife.

“Now this is a surprise, Cytherea.” Dominique looked towards the barkeeper and nodded as her gaze shot quick to the woman sitting beside her. “Allow me to buy you a drink.” A few things about Doc’s elusive and highly unpredictable dark shadow were known despite how guarded she was. She was hardly shy and bold at times to a fault. “Welcome to back and well…” The barkeeper slid the redhead a drink. Dominique winked at the server. “Welcome to Lancaster’s.”

With that said and done Dominique slowly released the cool hand she firmly greeted and went back to claiming her half full glass in front of her. The platinum whiskey was waiting and The Black Keys were about to fire it back up. Talk about smooth. What had been a random step into the bar turned out to be kismet at work instead. Just take a moment and imagine that.

Dominique welcomed the slow building burn of the cool liquor that ignited a trail as it glided down her throat. All of it was to be expected from a tequila worth passing her lips. It took that chill away from the inside and worked its way out to the layers of her exposed skin. Her mind used it and put it into action. Gradually she sent that sensation everywhere that the fluid couldn’t otherwise reach to create it’s magic. Magic that was ninety percent in her head and a savory ten percent result of the consuming she was currently applying herself to. The power and energy of a beautiful mind was a resource that she refused to waste.

The Black Keys were still playing as the woman who had slipped up beside her to have a seat began speaking once again. The voice was sweet and nearly disarming with its delicate purr like tone. It reminded her of a kitten coming up close and vibrating for attention. She noticed no lines or flaws at the flesh that covered Cytherea’s. If she had marks she covered them so well.

Dominique allowed her wide, nearly black eyes to drift to the corner as she turned down the music that played faithfully in her head. The sound of Cytherea’s voice came through despite the continuous deep, soul kicking rhythm of the blues legacy that only Junior Kimbrough could leave behind. The shadow’s unpainted lips were wet as she processed then swallowed the words that filled the air between them. She once again wore that unpredictable half smile that would be expected on a cat that finally just found it’s way into the forbidden cage and was within claws reach of the unguarded canary.

It was getting hot. Just like she liked it. The steamy effects of the alcohol and the soul purging blues climbed up her spine. Like a two headed predator all its own traveling with a serpentine slither the two moved beneath the permanent ink leopard spots and clung to the undiscovered spot at the nape of her neck. It could go fully to her head, strike quickly and consume her. Something about the presence of the fiery redhead beside her gave a warning in itself that such would likely happen. For the time being it was hanging on stand by and wouldn’t be so easy to shake. She inhaled over the glass in her hand and pulled in the sweet scent of a female possibly in possession of wickedness and secrets to be told. That sweet scent was haloed by the complementary second hand spent smoke that clung to infrequent patrons clothing that strolled by.

There they were the least likely pair to be found. Two promising females with blood so cool but sorely underestimated stored in the space of their never aging bodies. Like birds on a wire they were gracefully perched on the barstools at a counter that Dominique had never set herself at before. The slide of her tongue wiped the small beaded traces left behind of the dependable Gran Patron from the soft surface of her lips. If she was to be rattled it wasn’t showing. She watched the colorful mouth next to her continue to shape and release words to feed her mind.

The music buzzed around their messages like a persistent bee not giving up on its chosen task at hand. Husband, raped and sired. Each was a tight secret bud of potential awareness that the woman was offering up. The volume of the smooth beats lowered in her head until each bloomed into a visual that sent her searching for some fragment of a stored memory to be paired with for a final confirmation.

Dominique felt a gradual drop of HOPE that held the glass that fueled her current mood. She was pleasantly relaxed and feeling good. Far too good to give in to the haunting history that may be new to the woman beside her but old hat to the shadow that lived it. What shards of the past that were hers to recall and claim came from all different directions as she uncrossed her leg from the top of the other beneath it and placed both heels of her ankle boots on the small bar at the base of the stool to rest. Each memory landed spot on in it’s place. The result of what was otherwise broken ultimately fit together so perfectly in final detail that it would seem nothing was missing at all from the collage of the last two years of her life.

Dominique could feel the chill of what was there two years ago sprinkle across her face. It was snowing and it was New Year’s Eve. Each flake landed into a slide leaving a tickle down the bridge of her nose and the firm peak of each cheek. It’s perfect natural design was lost by the time it found the warmth of her neck. The droplets ignored the colorful design at the woman's throat and chose to race to the flesh beneath her jacket. Her heart was beating fast. Faster than it probably ever had before. She asked him if he could see what she was looking at. She provided a live feed so he could watch. Of course he could. No massive ball of confetti dropping in Times Square could compare to the explosion and visual of the man’s roof to his house shooting towards the heavens. It was costly. An act she could barely afford to execute. What happened next sealed her fate for an eternity.

Doc ultimately took what never would have been given freely. He had done it before he ever had set his eyes or hands on her and likely would again. He was a vampire and a ruthless cold one at that. There was no secret to that and no dispute. So why would it be a surprise to anyone that she was sitting there minus a pulse next to his questioning wife? Then again, she played her part in all the history just as well. Maybe too well. She took his house, his cat, sent his black blood into the air, threatened him, promised him pain as well as loss and even hunted him in return with a vengeance. Karma was always a ***** in the end. Nietzsche summed that whole year up of the bloody war between them and drove the point home with a quote like it was a hammer crashing down on the head of the proverbial nail. Something about if you fight with a monster use care not to become one yourself. The paladin learned how right Friedrich was. It took another year after the fact for her to accept it.

“Of course I know of you.” The words were chosen carefully. Dominique had a head full of reasons she picked each one that she delivered while looking to Cytherea with a darkening set of eyes. She found the amber pools that the man in question must have drowned in the beauty of more than once or twice. “What kind of husband would he be if he did not mention his wife?”

There was a nice fuzzy sensation caressing those otherwise sharp edges forming in her thoughts. She wondered how much the woman had been drinking before she slid up on the seat next to her. More than the two glasses of tequila she had for sure.

“You would have to ask him and whoever else what he has tried more than once.” The glass in Dominique’s hand moved slowly with a constant rotation courtesy of HOPE’s subtle movements. “The terms we are on are understood. And how about you two?” She paused as the glass in her hand froze and went up stopping short of her lips as if she had all the time in the world to hear what the woman had to say. She was equally curious now that she was finally engaging in conversation with the one that was bound until the end of time to the shadow who killed her. If that didn’t say that the beauty next to her was Doc’s biggest fan nothing else possibly could. “Things still in that honeymoon phase?”

Dominique allowed the rim of the glass to meet her lips and welcomed another flow of the clear liquid to wet her whistle. Not that she was planning on using it. Not yet anyways. A swallow was followed by addressing what she was sure was confusion on Cytherea’s part.

“As for rape…”

Dominique paused because she couldn’t even think up such a scenario in her head. He was a ******** with no mercy to be sure but that didn’t happen. Not with her. She remembered everything. What did happen inspired her to build a bridge, get over it and move on. This woman sounded less than secure in her union and had to be confused as hell about who she was currently speaking to or about. Perhaps tonight they could help eachother out. Build and mend. The music was returning. ‘Meet me in the City’ chased away all that made absolutely no sense to her. The feel good vibe was in full effect as the rhythm started up.

“What a bizarre thing to say.” She breathed out softly before taking another sip from the glass in her hand.