Chapter One:
Have you ever been killed in cold blood? Did the investigators ever decide that your case went cold? Well, my investigators did. I suppose they weren’t entirely wrong. My case did run cold in the end, only it ran cold through my veins. There’s only one problem with being cold-blooded in the winter, you never have any residual warmth in your jacket. Normally this doesn’t pose a problem because the Southwestern US doesn’t get that cold, but this year has become quite an anomaly. So here I am, braving the cold winds of a blizzard to get back home in time before the rest of Ferran City wakes up. The snowfall continues blanketing the pathways, burying the wooden planks in a layer of snow three times thicker than the pier itself. The wind torments me with its wicked shrieking, whipping the leaves of pine trees like one might fling their hair. Why did I choose to go for a walk to the store tonight of all nights?
“Sabrina, try not to freeze out here!” a man shouts down the pier as he pushes his shopping cart through the snow.
“You do the same. It would hurt my heart to see you die of frostbite!”
That’s a lie. You’d probably just savor drinking his blood once you thawed out his corpse.
I push the thought aside, focusing my attention more on trudging my way through the ever-rising layer of snow, each step taking more effort than the last. My lips chap as the bitter cold seeps through the top layer of my skin. Unfortunately, like many cold-blooded animals I have no metabolism to sustain my temperature, making frigid conditions like these particularly dangerous. I hop onto the upper layer of the snowpack, my shoes lingering for a brief moment before slipping back down into the icy depths. I leap into the air again, this time sprinting once my boots hit the snow. Each step leaves no trace behind as I stride through the snowy streets of the Ferran City Pier. There’s not a single soul in sight as the usually warm and temperate terrain is consumed by an idyllic winter wonderland, sandy beaches giving way to inches of snow whilst boardwalks become slip and slides. Students will rejoice as the city will be out of school for almost a week, while parents struggle to return to work, fighting tooth and nail to dig out a driveway. Yet, no part of this idyllic picturesque wonderland matters if I don’t get back home soon.
I look up at the sky, finding nothing but snowflakes and charcoal grey clouds. No using the moon to tell the time tonight. I lift my left wrist, peeling back the sleeve of my jacket. My watch flashes to life, revealing its neon green numbers. It’s 3:30 already! How long was I standing inside of that department store? As I sprint through the city, a familiar landmark creeps into view. In the corner of my eye, I spot the bronze statue of the city’s founder. I make a hard left, almost veering off the pier as I speed down the road. Each house I pass is a monotonous carbon copy of the one before it, the only distinguishing factor being paint color and the cars parked outside. That is until I reach my house. Every other house on the Ferran City Pier is a two-story home with a built-in garage. You know, the typical wealthy suburban American stereotype. My house stands out as the only one-story house within the surrounding area. I hired a unique contractor who used my own personal design for the house because I hated the idea of becoming another member of the community. It does draw attention, but at least it’s negative attention. Having guests knock on your door at noon during peak sleeping hours is the worst, but I guess that comes the territory of being a vampire.
I walk up the frozen sidewalk, snow still blanketing the landscape around me. Once I get to my door, I fish my keys out of my pocket and stuff them in the door, wrenching the doorknob until I hear a soft click. A tremendous gust of wind blows right as the door gives way, coating my hard wood floor in a thin crust of snowflakes. Well, at least this is easy enough to clean. I peel my jacket off my frigid flesh, hanging the coat on my coat rack behind my front door. Despite the interior temperature being just a few degrees above the outside, my skin glows as if I climbed into a sauna. Such is the price of not having centralized heating. Once inside, the front door leads straight to the living room, which houses a fireplace. I toss a few logs into the fire and light a match, throwing the match into the kindling. I climb onto my couch, snuggling up in one of my many blankets. The living room features a few accessories like a chair by the front door, a tv stand with a flatscreen that is wall mounted, and the ultra-soft plush couch that I am stretched out on. The black fabric squishes between my fingers as I play with the armrest beneath my head. Damn, I could use a shot right about now. Too bad, my usual places are all snowed in.
“When the hell does a blizzard drop almost a foot of snow on the beach?” I groan.
Alcohol doesn’t really do that much, but at least it tastes relatively good compared to other human foods I used to eat. Nowadays, I can’t stomach eating a burger unless the meat is doused in seasoning. For some reason, cow tastes disgusting to me. A perk of my transformation I suppose. Yet I’ve never thrown up human food like vampires in fictional stories. Whilst reclining on the couch, my phone buzzes. I fish the thing out of my pants, hitting the power button. Not another spam email! I toss my phone on the table and let out a sigh. There haven’t been any good jobs for the past few weeks, leaving me sitting on my ass or going out on hunts that leave me sick to my stomach. Most people that I end up drinking don’t even taste good in the first place. Hell, the last person I drank tasted as bitter as dark chocolate and coffee combined and their blood was acidic. The worst possible combination if you ask me. I prefer blood with a hint of sweetness with a splash acidity. The radiance of the fireplace creeps throughout my house, consuming the bone-chilling cold like a ferocious animal. Since there is nothing for me to do right now, I guess I’ll just head to sleep. I snuggle up against the armrest, drifting to sleep like a baby.
~
Vampires don’t normally wake up early in the morning, though I suppose yesterday was not a normal day in Ferran City either. Who the hell expects a snowstorm in an area that regularly experiences temperatures around 67 degrees Fahrenheit? I grab the remote and turn the tv on, throwing on the local news. The newscaster drones on and on about the local issues of the area, though something catches my ear.
“This upcoming week will feature a continued presence of the chilling cold brought by a deep polar vortex that has consumed the entirety of the continental United States. Experts state that this sudden surge of cold air might remain for upwards of two weeks, though we’ll have to wait and see.”
“Damn it. Cold temperatures mean that people are less likely to go outside. That means less assholes to make a meal out of! UGH!”
I rise from my couch, sliding off the soft surface like a slug. I stumble my way around the half-filled back wall of my living room and walk into my kitchen. Reaching into the fridge, I clutch a bottle of orange juice, twisting the top off. I press the cold bottle to my lips, greedily gulping down the acidic liquid until nothing remains. I toss the bottle into the trash before returning to my couch, wrapping myself in a thick blanket. I grab my phone, scrolling through newspaper websites at nauseum. Are there no criminals on the loose? I’d love to feast upon a serial killer because that keeps a murderer off the streets, aside from me I suppose…
I suppose I’m a murderer after all. I’ve killed several people because I haven’t found a willing blood donor, and I refuse to take thrall, especially since I’m a singular vampire. If I started walking around with a person following me everywhere I go, I’d just draw extra attention to me. Plus, a thrall requires maintenance like a pet, but they are human. That requires emotional maintenance, stipends for personal endeavors, among other issues. Hell, some thrall come with children while others have apparently tried to bribe their masters. So, I’d say that keeping a thrall is out of the question for me. A vampire’s age affects their ability to control a thrall as well, and in vampire terms, I’m a newborn baby just learning to crawl.
The wind howls outside as the storm continues its torturous rampage throughout the city. I climb off my couch and grab a thick leather jacket. I throw open the front door, finding my house buried in almost three feet of snow. Before I can form a single thought, I let out a feline hiss, the truest sign of annoyance. I stick my hands under the mass of snow in front of my door, heaving the large mass to the side before clutching another large patch and doing the same. It takes me fewer than fifteen minutes to clear the entirety of the driveway.
“A normal human would have struggled several hours to clear that,” I chuckle to myself.
I slip through my fresh carved tunnel and emerge back on the streets of the pier. Residents armed with shovels fill the streets, attacking the monumental snowpacks. The shouts of children echo through the winter landscape, each one a shrill squeal to my ears. A child points at me or, more specifically, my silken white hair. The parents look at their child, reprimanding them for pointing at me, though I can’t be bothered. I’m still young enough to still remember what it was like to be a kid, though perhaps a few hundred years might change that. I thread passed all the little kids and their parents, leaving behind the prim and proper houses and entering an area with buildings that feature a great deal of character. The first building I spot features shattered windows, a caved in roof, and a door barely hanging by its final hinge. The next few buildings aren’t much better, some featuring bullet holes in the walls and others with walls threatening to collapse any minute now. It’s no wonder that people turn to a life of crime. I would too if I had to live like this again.
A frail old man stares at me with his eyes more glazed than a luxury pot, what’s left of his teeth chattering in his mouth. As I walk past the old man, his head turns to follow my every movement. His continuous gaze sends a nauseating wave through my body, the likes of which I haven’t felt in a few years. I pick up my pace as I leave the old man’s line of sight, a bead of sweat dripping down my forehead. Every second moves as slow as molasses as I flow through the streets like a river. Buildings meld into one singular stretch of concrete and bricks, colors bleeding together like a chase scene in a sci-fi film. By the time I slow down, my breaths run ragged, and I’ve already managed to reach the shopping district. Shit, I need to calm down. Sometimes, it’s tough to tell when I’m anxious without a heartbeat to be the dead giveaway. Car horns blare out their indignance whilst pedestrians stare down at their small rectangular symbiotic tethers, the noise reaching an irritating crescendo with the sound of incoming sirens.
“Excuse me, ma’am. Do you mind not blocking the sidewalk? There are people trying to do things with their time that doesn’t include being held up by you,” a passerby snaps.
I turn to face my clearly superior being as he continues berating me with insults. I take one good look at the young man, who appears to be around my physical age. His youthful radiance and muscular build complement the punk rock aesthetic. I smile as I trace my fingers up the man’s arms, placing one of my claws under his chin before he can even react. The man tenses as my fingers rest under his chin for a few moments, his eyes wide and bloodshot throughout the entire process.
“Now, I know that you’re young and quite full of yourself, so I’m going to give you a break this time. However, if this ever happens again, know that I will not be so lenient,” I hiss.
The man stares me in the eyes, and I can just feel the hatred and humiliation brewing within his heart and soul. Each beat of his heart questions if he should take this kind of treatment from someone, let alone a woman. His very breaths speak all sorts of languages and scents that no human could ever dare to relish in. Please swing at me, I’ve been itching for a training partner or a snack. Who knows? Maybe he’ll prove to be both. Instead, the man backs down and walks passed me with his hand on his chin. I emit a light sigh before heading toward where the young man was heading from, the central square of the shopping centers. The central square features a great deal of important shops for both human and vampiric nutritional needs, which makes me wonder how many people actually know about the vampire world. I mean, most people know about pop-culture references, but I doubt that ninety-five percent of the population knows about the vampire world. I bet the governments probably have spies and thralls in high places. That would make sense. The frigid winds whip around, ripping through my jacket and chilling me to the bone. By the time I reach the crosswalk, the light turns green and cars race through the street. People shuffle passed me on the sidewalk, though most of them smell disgusting tasting. One of them particularly reeks of shallots so bad that my nose twitches. To my dismay, the infuriating, unhygienic person winds up standing next to me.
“Hi there, are you waiting for the crosswalk too?” the person whispers.
I know this social scenario quite well. Been through it far too many times to count. If I ignore them, I’ll look like an ass, but if I encourage this, it could get really ugly. I remember this type from college, and they can cause a lot of problems, regardless of their identity. I turn to the person beside me, though they are shrouded in a large trench coat. Nothing is visible of them from the waist up, almost as if they don’t exist. Please tell me this is not a wraith. I don’t have time for the hunter order to be on my trail. I’ve had to flee one city already because they were on my trail. The weird person chuckles as they strut across the street. I follow suit, walking through the crosswalk as the streetlight turns red. What the hell just happened? I’m a supernatural being in my own right, but even that is enough to keep me up at night. The central shopping center features a lot of stores that I frequent, but my favorite happens to be a medicinal store. There’s a sweet old lady that works at the register. I think that the old lady owns the place, but I’ve never asked.
I open the medicine store door, the bell dinging as I walk in. The old lady looks at me and smiles, her toothy grin shining brighter than the reflection of the snow outside. A sweet aroma floods my nostrils, filling me with that warm fuzzy feeling. This place brings me the closest to feeling alive every time I walk in. Maybe it’s just the old lady’s aura, but something about her makes me feel like a kid again.
“Hello there Sabrina. How are you doing this fine morning?” the old lady says.
“I’m doing quite well Grandma Lula. The snow caught me by surprise last night, but I suspect it caught all of us off-guard.”
“Yes, this is most snow I’ve seen in all of my years, and I’ve lived around three of your lifetimes dear.”
Yeah, and I’ll likely live at least three of your lifetimes if I play my cards right. Grandma Lula grabs a bag from under the counter, though the bag is much larger than the normal bags she gives me. Yet her heartbeat thumps like a car engine in her chest, echoing in the back of my ears.
“I gave you a little bit extra this month because I plan on taking a trip somewhere for a long while,” Grandma Lula sighs.
I take the bag out of her struggling hands, feeling the heft for myself. The bag is rather light for my muscle, but for an old frail woman, this would be like lifting a mountain. Her heart rate quickens just a faint amount, but I’ve known this woman for over two-and-a-half years. Even a slight change in her heart rhythm is enough for me to know if she’s lying. Chances are she’s going to a nursing home, or she’s on her last legs. Either way, the bag weighs almost three times it did before. I could ask about it, but she would’ve told me if she wanted me to know.
“Alright Grandma, thank you for the gifts. How much do I owe you this time?”
“Pay me for the price of two. That’ll be enough Sabrina.”
“Are you sure? This definitely feels like more than just two sets of everything,” I reply, my voice quivering just a little bit.
“Yes, dear. I don’t need a lot of money where I’m going. I’ve been saving my money all my life.”
I put a fifty-dollar bill on the counter, flashing a faint smile at Grandma Lula. The old woman just shakes her head at me and smiles. I start heading out of the store, stopping in the doorway and looking back at the old woman.
“Hehe, That’s the Sabrina I know. You always pay full price for everything even when I say there’s a discount.”
“Have a good life, Grandma Lula.”
The old woman’s eyes spread wide as I turn away and walk out of the store. The doorbell rattles as the door slides into place. A gentle breeze sings through the square, whispering a sweet refrain through its cold chill. The sun’s blinding radiance peers through the dense grey blanket coating the sky, reflecting off the powdered sidewalk. I slip through the clumps of people. Each one’s scent dancing through the air like rivers of perfume yet none of them bleed together. Some fill the air with a sweet aroma, whilst others fill the air with the sourest thing I have ever experienced. Gods above, if there are any, why the hell do some people have the worst smelling blood in the world? Is it their diet or their family history?
Another harsh gust of wind tears through the streets, though this one I felt in the depths of my bones. I fix my eyes up to the sky, spotting a human-like creature with large black wings soaring through the air. The mere presence of such a creature damn near liquifies my joints, my knees quivering from the sheer effort of standing. Yet the mortals around me continue about their day as if nothing is happening, blissfully unaware of the magnitude of the creature that flies above their heads. Then again, I’m still not certain what those creatures even are. My assumption is that they might be some type of angel, though they very well could be a type of werefolk. Most of the mortals of the world can’t even see supernatural creatures that are not physically in front of them. What do I expect them to do? Cowering in fear of something they can’t even see would be considered a mental illness…
Fortunately, the feathered creature disappears just as quickly as it arrives, relieving my flesh of that encumbering burden. Snow crunches under my heels as I slip through the shopping center, passing the shop that I can only assume is owned by a witch. It doesn’t help that the woman who owns the store wears fantasy high fantasy aesthetics whenever her store is open. Every time I walk passed her store, the smell reminds me of fermented vegetables and an assortment of scents that could never be confused with cooking ingredients. Plus, the lighting within the store is deep violet, which soothes my eyes when compared to the harsh lights of ordinary business. The worst experience with mortal domestic lighting has to be the supercenter grocery stores! I have resorted to wearing sunglasses whenever I am in one because the lighting is so blindingly bright that I cannot bring my gaze anywhere near the ceiling. I hate those stores just as much as I hate the frigid cold when I have warmed my skin. Whilst my heated jacket keeps my upper body relatively warm, my legs have dropped well below the normal mortal temperature.
“Ugh, I could really go for a nice hot cup of coffee right about now, but most places are offering their Christmas specials,” I mutter to myself.
A figure emerges onto the street behind me, a presence that is strictly supernatural in every sense of the word. In the blink of an eye, I twist around the man’s outstretched arm, snatching it and throwing it aside. The man smiles as he watches my every move, his eyes tracking me with a subtle sense of satisfaction. My eyes widen as the man’s bright red eyes glimmer in the reflection of the morning snow.
“Greetings Madam Alirelli, I have pressing business with you,” the man says.
If you’d like to see more, you’ll be able to sign up for exclusive previews in the future. I’ll provide updates on that process in the next few weeks. For now, you can check out my other works littered through my website. Goodbye for now…
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