He looks up from the book he’s reading when I approach; Red Dragon by Thomas Harris, he’s certainly got good taste in books. He puts his bookmark in, a receipt.
Funny, I do that too. I always use the receipt from the store I bought the book from as my bookmark. Not that I read much nowadays, actually come to think of it I haven’t picked a book up since before the attack.
Putting his book down on the table he smiles at me, showing me a set of perfect white teeth. It’s a nice smile. Not perfect, like his face, his lip crooks up more to the right, creating a dimple in his cheek.
I take the cup from the tray and place it on the table in front of him.
“Grazie,” he says. For a deep voice, it’s incredibly smooth.
“Godere.” I turn away, taking the tray with me
“You’re English?” he says in perfect English, but with an accent which I can’t place.
He’s obviously not Italian as I first thought.
I stop and turn back. “Yes,” I nod.
It’s not unusual for a customer to want to talk to me, especially if they’re English, but I ensure I keep to the basic pleasantries.
I have to be careful with every stranger I speak to because there could always be that possibility that one day, one of them may have seen my picture in the paper and recognise me as that girl who went missing all those months ago when walking home from a night out with her best friend.
“Your accent. A dead give-away,” he smiles.
“Ah right,” I say. I take a tiny step back.
“Whereabouts in England are you from?”
“All over. I moved a lot.”
He smiles again. Lips pressed together this time. “I lived in England for a while, Cornwall. It’s a nice place.”
I smile.
I don’t want to make conversation. I don’t have real conversations with people anymore. I just have polite interaction. But for some reason this guy seemingly wants to have a conversation with me. I know for certain he’s not supernatural. He’s human. I can always tell straight away, thankfully.
Maybe he’s just lonely. But then, I can’t imagine a guy who looks like he does being lonely for any significant period of time.
“But not as nice as here,” he continues. “In my opinion of course.” He winks.
“Yes. It is lovely here.” I take another little step back.
“Sorry, I’m keeping you from your work.” He gestures with his open hand. “I’m sure you’re busy.”
He casts a glance around the empty café. I see the smile in his eyes. He’s taking the mick. There’s only one other customer in the café at the moment and I’m fairly sure he fell asleep a while ago.
Releasing a little laugh I shake my head. “No, not really. But I should get back to pretending to work, just in case my boss turns up.”
Now that’s utter bollocks as I know for a fact Joe’s not coming in today. But Handsome here doesn’t know that. If Joe were coming in today then Celine, the other girl who works here, wouldn’t have disappeared out back for a smoke twenty minutes ago. Actually, scrap that, she still would have even if Joe was here, she’s a bit like that.
“I’m Zeff by the way,” he holds out his hand for me to take.
Odd name.
“Sarah.” That’s the name on the passport Craig got for me - Sarah Tolliver.
It took some getting used to, but I’m there now. I sometimes wonder who Sarah Tolliver was, or if she was even real at all. For job and rental purposes I use Carrie’s surname though, Ross. So currently, I’m Sarah Ross. I do that simply because, if for the slim chance Nathan is still looking for me, then he’ll be looking for Sarah Tolliver.
Ensuring she can’t be found by him.
Gingerly, I slip my hand into Zeff’s to shake.
The sensation slams into my hand and flies up my arm the instant I make contact with him. It’s like a magnetic, electrical charge. Literally, like someone has used one those defibrillators on me, jolting me, the charge rippling through my whole body. I’m half expecting someone to shout, ‘Clear!’ before zapping me again.
I snatch my hand back from his.
I see the element of surprise in his eyes, but I don’t care, I’m instantly suspicious. My arm feels weird, numb, and my whole body is tingling.
Reaching out my senses I try to sense anything off about him. But there’s nothing. He’s just a regular human being.
Then my head starts to clear, and I start to think I might have overreacted a tad. Maybe it was just a static shock or something. But he doesn’t seem to have had any reaction. Apart from the look on his face at me snatching my hand away, that is.
Feeling a flush creeping up my neck, I force an awkward smile and clasp the tray to my chest, gripping my hand around it to quell the sensation and bring my arm back to life.
“Well, it was really nice to meet you, Sarah.” He picks his book up, “And thanks for the cappuccino.”
“Nice to meet you.” Turning, I head back behind the counter to dispose of the tray.
Celine comes back in soon after, reeking of cigarette smoke, so taking the chance to escape I leave her to keep cover of the café.
I head into the back to load the dishwasher with today’s dirty cups and set it going. By the time I’ve finished and come back out, that Zeff guy is gone.
The rest of my shift passes by uneventfully. I get my bag, say good-bye to Celine, leaving her to lock up, and head back to my apartment.
Celine is okay, when she’s not been brash. She’s from California and is backpacking around Europe with her friends. She thinks I’m doing the same, but solo. I also get the impression she thinks it’s quite tragic that I’m travelling alone. It is. Just not for the reasons she thinks.
Celine and her friends are doing what I am, moving around doing bar and waitressing jobs to give them money as they travel. Except mine is a little different. Well, a lot different.
As I walk toward my apartment, I notice the sky is coming in a little dark, earlier than normal. Crossing the street, I come up to the little complex of apartments where I live. Opening the gate, I walk across the courtyard, reaching the main door. I enter the security code in on the keypad and the door buzzes open.
There are only two floors; ground and first, I’m on the first so I take the stairs. Reaching my apartment, I unlock the door. Letting myself in, I turn the light on and cross through the open plan living room, dumping my rucksack on the kitchen counter.
I always have this rucksack with me, I don’t go anywhere without it. It contains my passport and all the money I possess. It also has the newspaper cutting picture of Carrie and me. The one from the newspaper Nathan gave to me that first day when I’d woke to find out she was gone and I’d been changed into this monster.
It’s the only photo I have of her. I ensure I always have those three things with me over everything else. I also carry around a tube for draining blood into bottles from the animals; and yes, it really is as gross as it sounds... and a silver blade for protection.
It was one of the first things I acquired after I left Nathan. So far I haven’t needed to use it. I also carry around in my rucksack a spare set of clothes, for if I ever need to leave in a hurry, which in my case could be a big possibility. But thankfully, I haven’t had to so far.
But I know one day, if not soon, it will happen, and I want to be as prepared as possible. I travel light. It makes moving all the more easier.
Going over to the fridge I get a bottle of blood out. Looking at the contents I see I’m down to a couple of days worth, max. I need to go hunting.
I very quickly learnt how to hunt since I didn’t have Nathan taking care of me anymore. In the beginning I hated it, well I can’t say I particularly love it now, but I’m accustomed to it.
Finishing the blood I go in my bedroom, change out of my work clothes, and put on my hunting clothes. Black jeans, a black long-sleeved sweater, and the Converse trainers Nathan bought me. They’re looking old and batter
ed but I can’t bear to part with them.
I leave my hair tied in the ponytail it’s been in all day. My hair is still brown, I decided to keep it this colour. It was just easier to carry on dyeing it than trying to get it back to my natural shade, and I quickly got used to it.
And with the slight tan I’ve got from constantly being in summer climes, the dark hair almost suits me. I didn’t keep cutting it short though; I hated not having long hair so I let it grow. It’s grown quite a bit, reaching to my shoulders now.
Getting myself ready to go hunting, I put the cleaned plastic bottles into my rucksack, ready for refilling. I double check I've included the tube I use to filter the blood out of the animals into the bottles. I also check my passport, money, picture, and clothes, are all there.
Last thing, I put my little handheld spade in and a pack of wet wipes. With everything ready, I set off, heading for the woods on the outskirts of town.
Chapter 3: The Hunter, the Hunted
I take a left at the top of the street my apartment building is on, walking away from the centre of town, uphill, heading straight for the wooded area surrounding it.
One of the reasons I like this place is because it has a great backdrop with a vast woodland area. Much bigger than the forest at the back of Nathan’s farm. Nathan would love it here.
As I head out of town the streetlights become fewer, but it doesn’t bother me as I can see just as well in the dark. Another side effect of being a Vârcolac, keen eyesight – well keen is putting it mildly – extraordinary is probably better suited.
When I reach the top of the steep incline, just outside of the woods, I stand for a moment, breathing in the cool crisp evening air. Letting my senses widen; I hear and smell.
These other things inside me just seem to know when there are others around – other ‘beings’. I have to check there’s no one in the forest. I would be surprised if a normal person were here at this time, but I need to make sure there are no supernaturals around.
Nope, all clear.
Making sure my backpack is secured, I walk down the little incline, knowing my way pretty well. I’ve hunted here twice already since I arrived. I tread over the hard mud and broken twigs, cracking them underfoot, bracing myself for the woodland.
The forest seems surprisingly well lit tonight. Glancing up I spy the moon, bright and full, huge in fact. It looks beautiful.
Taking a ten minute leisurely walk, I penetrate deeper into the forest. When I find a good spot, with plenty of roaming woodland creatures, I put the rucksack down beside a tree and retrieve the items I need.
I always hunt in the form I am in now, except with my fangs out. I now know how to protract and retract them as required. I haven’t shifted into my wolf form yet. I have the urge inside me to do so, but I’m not just ready to face that side of myself yet.
And to be honest, I daren’t.
I never got around to asking Nathan, to talk me through how I do it, and I know it might sound stupid, but I’m worried that if I shift while I am on my own, then I might not be able to get back to my human form as I won’t know how to, then I’ll be stuck as a wolf.
With everything I need ready, I begin the hunt.
After I've buried all the little bunnies I just killed, I clean the draining tube and spade with wet wipes, then spruce up myself the same way.
Packing the rucksack, I deposit the mud and bloodstained wipes into the front pocket to dispose of at home. I don’t want to leave any evidence lying around, and I couldn’t litter here anyway, it’s too beautiful a place. I pull the zip closed and stand from the crouched position.
I feel it.
The hairs on the back of my neck prickle, every sense going on high alert.
There’s someone, or something here. I stretch my senses out as far as I can. I hear him. He’s light on his feet and is moving toward me – quickly.
A vampire.
Oh God. I’ve never encountered a vampire before. They hate my kind and will hate me even more. Or be curious. Either way it’s not good. I need to get out of here, now.
If I know he’s here, then he definitely knows I am.
Slinging the backpack on I sprint through the trees, with one direction in mind. The road. I need to get into population, then get myself the hell out of this town.
How did I not know there was a vampire living here?
This is bad.
Vampires don’t know I exist. Well they do now. So not only will I have the Originals after me, also vampires.
Fuck.
Why do things have to go from bad to ridiculously worse?
Weaving through the trees I jump lithely over fallen bracken. My backpack is banging heavily against my back. I could do without it but it has everything I need to get me out of here, and quick, so there’s no way I can ditch it.
I’m listening hard. I can hear him moving but can’t pinpoint his exact location.
Keep moving, Alex. Just keep moving.
He jumps out from the thick stand of trees about thirty feet in front of me, skidding me to a halt. My heart whams into my ribcage.
He’s not much bigger than me. Short dark hair and eyes to match. And he looks young. Twenty max. But I also know that even though he might look young and frail he’s probably way stronger and far older than I am.
He raises an eyebrow.
“Now this is interesting,” he says, in a European accent, maybe German, I’m not sure. He tilts his head. “I thought my senses were off for a moment back there. But looky here, I’ve got myself a lady Vârcolac.”
I can’t speak, I’m crippled with fear.
“What to do,” he muses, tapping a finger against his lips. “Do I kill you myself ... or do I have a little fun with you first, then take you to Elijah? I’m sure he’d be very interested to meet you.”
I inch a step backwards.
He raises an eyebrow.
“Y-you take me.” My voice stammers. I try to garner control. “And the Originals will come after you – Matthias and Isaiah,” I add their names on hoping it will make some difference.
Okay, it’s bullshit, they have no clue where I am – with very good reason. But it’s the only card I’ve got to play.
He folds his arms across his chest and narrows his gaze.
“Don’t lie to me little girl. If Isaiah or Matthias had their hold on you they would not for one second let you out of their sight, let alone running around the forest late at night hunting animals. And if I didn’t already know that fact, then it would have been the speed up in rate of that pretty little heart of yours. If you’re going to lie honey, lie better. Get control of those human emotions you’re so desperately and pathetically clinging to.”
I see realisation flicker across his eyes. “Do they know of your existence?”
“Yes.” Well I couldn’t exactly say no. And I have a feeling either way I answered wouldn’t work out well for me anyhow.
Loosening his arms, he scratches his cheek. “So I have something that Isaiah and Matthias want.”
This seems to please and excite him. Me, not so much.
“This is going to be so much more fun than I first anticipated,” he says.
I need my blade. It’s in the pocket inside the rucksack, with my money and passport. If I could just get my hand in the bag without him noticing, then I might just stand a chance.
Taking another slight step back, I try to put more distance between him and me in the hope that he won’t see as I try to slide my hand up my back. I can feel the zip.
Fuck! It’s zipped up. Of course it is; nothing’s ever easy for me. He smiles, quirking his lip. I leave my hand where it is on the zipper.
“So it’s just you and me honey, and boy are we going to have some fun before I take you home to my family,” he says.
Oh God.
I have two options. Fight or run. And that would be fight without my blade as it seems there is no way I can get it without taking my rucksack off, unzipping it, and getting
it out. I have a feeling by that point he’d probably be kicking the crap out of me.
And then suddenly out of nowhere I get angry and pissed off.
Severely pissed off.
I’m tired of running. I’m tired in general to be quite honest. I’ve been running since the day I was changed. I’ve lost everything I’ve ever cared about. What else do I have to lose?
Nothing.
So I decide to do one of the stupidest things I’ve quite possibly ever done. I run at him full speed, using every bit of strength I have behind me.
I see the surprise register on his face, before he runs at me too. We crash into each other like a pair of bulldozers.
But he’s the stronger of us two. He slams his hand flat against my chest, taking the wind out of me, knocking me backwards off my feet, and drives me down to the ground with one hand. I feel and hear the bones in my back crack.
Pain shoots up through my chest and my lungs start to burn. My head spins out of control, stars dancing before my eyes.
He’s on top of me now, pinning me. Striving to battle through the agony, I struggle, trying to shift my weight and get out from underneath him, but he’s strong – fuck is he strong – and I’m injured. I can barely move myself, let alone get him off me.
The plastic bottles in my rucksack are crushing beneath me, the impact having already shattered them. The smell of blood is wafting all around, and all I can keep thinking is my picture of Carrie is going to get ruined from the blood leaking out of the bottles.
I shove the thought aside, needing to focus on getting myself out of this. I’m all legs and arms, desperately kicking, hitting, trying anything I can to get free.