Path of the Vampire forum

"Here's a crazy question," Veva said. She stood at the mouth of the hallway in the small two bedroom apartment, fisting her long straight hair back into a ponytail. For every movement of her hand to adjust the grip, the other smoothed her hair flat, perfect, and she didn't miss a single step in her divided attention of waiting patiently for Nona to look up from her own reflection.

Nona stood at the circular mirror in their living room. Hung on the wall by the front door, it was used for quick make-up and hair checks before walking out for the day. It was one of the only functional pieces of decor the girls owned, and when Veva took over the larger mirror of the bathroom, it typically became Nona's station. She touched color to her lips, rubbed them together, and looked at her roommate. "How long has it been?" Veva finally asked. Nona rolled her eyes, smiled, and pulled all of her curly hair to one shoulder.

"Oh, come on," Veva laughed. But she abandoned it fast enough and leaned against the arm of the sofa to ask a different question. "What's his name, at least?"

His name was Okoro, and he was everything that came to mind for someone with such a name. Tall, dark, handsome, yes, but more than just that; more than something so shallow. He was happy, too, as was evident by his smile which was real and tangible and present even in the middle of a thought churning in his brain. Or, maybe it was because of his thoughts that his smile was always there, big or small. Which meant, too, that he was intelligent at least to some degree and that he applied his critical thinking skills to more than just what to say to drop a woman's panties around her ankles. By that right alone, he was different than the other men that came before him.

"Okay, okay," Veva nodded along. She picked and adjusted the thin bedsheet strewn across the sofa as a cover, it's solid pale yellow hiding the ugly and dated floral cushions underneath. She smiled, "Fancy."

"If you mean, 'did we meet in a bar,' then no," Nona answered.

"Oh good!" she said. "Where?"

He came into the book store and Nona spotted him right away. It was hard not to take note of a man like Okoro, who carried himself like someone with a sack of textbooks on his back but in actuality he only carried one in the crook of his arm. What kind of man brought his own book into a book store? What kind of man took his time approaching the counter; browsing all of the little display tables en route, stopping at all of the 'Bargain!' signs and the 'New Releases!' What kind of man smiled his way into her conscious thoughts and broke (no, shattered) the ice by asking, "What do you recommend?"

It wasn't that he was irresistible. In fact, far from it. His smile tipped dangerously on the verge of over-compensation, and his clean state of dress screamed 'high maintenance' at the top of its very lungs. It was that she, or anyone, could say no to a date with that man, but they would be ridiculously stupid for it.

Even Nona knew that.

"So what are you going to do?" Veva called. She disappeared down the hallway for her room, and by the movement coming from it, Nona guessed she had been changing.

"What do you mean?" Nona asked, adjusting her bra and shirt over top of it.

"I mean, for a first date," she said.

She watched the man while the man watched her, and occasionally they smiled and looked away and watched everyone else together. He picked her up at seven o'clock and together they walked to the aquarium, side by side. They funneled through the long tubes and stared up at the kaleidoscope of sunshine colored fish, and striped orange, white, and black ones. They watched the fat bodies of the sharks twist and turn like the most graceful dancers and the mellow rhythm of the stingrays as they waved overhead. And eventually they stopped at a bloated, peaceful Buddha resting on a rocky floor, belly cradled in his folded legs and his smile coming in and out of view by the tranquil koi that swam around his head and in between bamboo stalks.

They sat down for a cup of coffee in a nearby shop, still surprisingly active for the time of night, but she figured a time limit couldn't be put on scones and caffeine. He laughed at her jokes, and she liked the way the corners of his eyes merited a sense of sincerity even when they weren't that funny. But, as the older brother of a pair of twins, she'd learned, she guessed he was quite used to humoring someone's humor.

"Well, I personally suggest not to do anything too serious unless he comes across as that kind of man, but hey," Veva said, finally emerging from the back in a short dress and the legs to sport it, "you do you, babydoll."

Nona laughed and slung her bag strap over head to adjust it across her body. "Don't wait up," she assured, and walked out to meet Okoro downstairs at exactly seven o'clock.

On that night, the silence had metastasised, spreading like the most aggressive cancer. And with the silence came the endless barrage of thoughts, all of them riddled with guilt and doubt and shame. Clover had to leave. As much as she wanted to stay inside, to master the ability to meld herself with the mattress beneath her bare flesh, she knew she had to feed. Without her armlet, she lacked the ability to regenerate blood. Unlike Jesse, Clover couldn’t go without blood. She thrived on blood; she existed for blood. At her lowest point, she became obsessed with the idea of feeding. She craved the connection offered by the intake of fresh blood. The images. The feelings. The memories.

When Clover finally opened her eyes, she saw the dark ceiling overhead. The light from her charging cellphone created a single rectangle of shifting lights, like a colorful flashlight in the night. Like clockwork, she awoke near midnight, dressed in whatever clothing she could find, and took a fadeportal to one of the city’s stations. Her schedule kept her in sync with Jesse, which meant more and more with each passing night. She needed that type of consistency in her life. Even though she only had a portion of her night planned, she’d picked the most important part. Near midnight, she opened a shadow gate. If other family members lingered around the compound, then she opened more than one gate. At most, she’d opened four or five. All without them knowing. So when she awoke, she continued her habit.

Instead of leaving the bed, Clover closed her eyes and reached out for a gate to the shadow realm. Her fadewalker abilities had strengthened over time; after so much use, she had little issues opening gates. Most of her problems revolved around summoning. She had yet to summon a fadebeast, but she’d summoned friends and family. Her powers required a great deal of effort, effort that she felt went above and beyond what others had to exert. Right after she opened the gate, Clo rolled over onto her side and pulled her legs up toward her chest. The movement applied too much pressure to her healing wounds, and she stretched her legs out to watch as black blood bloomed from the bullet holes on her midsection.

Pain. The pain of being shot twenty-one times. The realization that her wounds made her more shadow than flesh and bone. Clover shoved the sheet down her legs, where it gathered at the end of the mattress. When she got to her feet, she went toward the bedroom to rifle through her things. She had leggings and jeans, a few t-shirts, and a leather jacket. What she wore made little difference, but the jacket--well, she refused to part with a leather jacket. Dressed, she shoved her sock-clad feet into her combat boots and moved, as quietly as possible, toward the elevator. Her next steps were pre-planned, written days and nights beforehand, so she followed the same between path to Limbo, the floor with almost everything the compound had to offer.

Her head bowed, Clover made her way through the dark city streets. The temperature, warmer than usual, had lured more humans from their homes and businesses. The streets weren’t overcrowded, but Clo noticed the number of people had grown. Most of the humans lingered around popular bars and eateries, but some lingered around the most unexpected of places. The groups of humans attracted her more than the stray man or woman, mostly because the groups were challenges. A single man or woman provided no real hunt, but a couple provided something. A pair of humans, or a trio of humans, made everything more entertaining. Clover stalked her prey. Her level of dexterity and flexibility made her feel as if she were truly a wild animal at heart. She wanted to hunt humans down like the mountain lions that lingered near the outskirts of the city and within the hunting grounds.

But instead of surrendering to temptation, Clover trailed after a lone teenage boy. The boy wore earbuds, so he’d deprived himself of his sense of hearing. She could have been stomping after him, and he wouldn’t have noticed her approach. When the boy stopped to look into a dark storefront, Clover stepped up behind him and placed a hand upon his left shoulder. The boy whipped around, but Clo had been prepared. She slapped her right hand over his mouth to silence his startled gasp and swept his legs out from under him. When he fell, he fell right into her awaiting arms, and she dragged him away from the glare of a streetlight and into the shadows. As she tore into his throat, he screamed and flailed his arms and legs, but she only held him tighter. She held him tight enough to crack his ribs.