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It smacked it lips.
"Yummmmy!" the Thing wheezed out. Oh yes--this had been such a great idea, following the tasty morsels that had stumbled onto its nest. Not only were each of them delicious, but they kept pouring it on like some kind of endless banquet. An all-you-can eat misery buffet! The Thing could eat a lot. Life was good! Well, actually their lives--the food--theirs pretty much sucked right now but for the Thing that meant its life was good. Very good! And looking to get better!
Naturally, it was far too wise to simply appear in the midst of its tidbits. Rather, it had risen once the solidity began, emerging on the apartment roof where few if any could see it. For the barest fraction of a second it didn't realize it wasn't alone. Less time than that told the Thing that its companion on the roof was a demon, like itself. Well, not exactly. This one was like the one-eyed bloodsucker below. Nor was that the only one below this demon was like...
"Hey there, Sister!" chortled the Thing, "Hope you had as good a dinner as I just did! Am I right? Humans--just nummy!"
"Yeah," said the vampire. "Nummy." She had a smile the Thing could empathize with.
"Gotta admit, I feel like a glutton about now, what with all the guilt and pain and fear just came oozing outa my supper." The Thing slid over to the vampire, its tentacles making such movement surprisingly smooth. "What these humans do to each other, especially when they're all young and defenseless, just like a nice marinade. Don't you think?"
"I like it when they scream."
"Oh me too! Me definitely too! But you know whats even better?" It slid closer. "When they want to scream, when they need to scream--but can't." Showing every tooth it temporarily had, the Thing uttered a sharp, deep laugh. "That way it lasts and lasts and lasts! You know what I mean?"
The vampire shrugged its tiny shoulders. "Who needs to take that much time? You get bored, you find something else."
"You wait'll you've been around a bit," the Thing said, nodding, "then you'll start appreciating a nice slow meal. Every drop--better than wine, I tell ya! Over here--take a look!" It slid over and pointed with one tentacle at the parking lot below. Sure enough, the vampire walked over and looked. Good--smart girl. Below a middle-aged man was shakily walking towards a care. Hovering near him, but saying nothing, was the blonde woman whose every step and sway of hip proclaimed cop--at least to a being as old and as experienced as the Thing. The man walked stiffly, as if in pain. Nice.
"Any guesses on the story behind these two?"
She lifted an eyebrow at its question. Not very much, just a little. "I know their story already."
"Do you now?" The little vampire suddenly seemed more interesting.
Nodding, the vampire continued. "Abusive father, abused daughter. But not to each other. Still, they ended up on the same side. Pathetic."
"Tasty, though."
"Not to me."
"Different strokes and all that!"
"Yep."
By now the car was pulling out of the parking lot. Not a word had crossed between them. The vampire kept her eyes fixed on the car as it left.
"Ahhhhh!"
"What?"
"You got some kind of personal interest in all this."
"Maybe."
"Oh, I think more than that. If not, how come you look so much like one of my little morsels downstairs?"
The vampire looked at the Thing, her green eyes glinting in amusement. She had a hungry air, but then her kind always did. More, she had a languid cruelty in her manner that the Thing might even have found attractive in one of its own kind. A slight breeze pushed her red hair.
"Not gonna tell," she said. "Its a secret."
"Okay!" The Thing gave a long, deep chuckle. It did enjoy the company of this one, with her teasing evil. Being around when she fed would be rather yummy too. But now it felt the physical form it had only after a really big feast begin to fade. "See you around, sis! Maybe we'll share a meal sometime!"
"Could be."
As it began to disappear, the Thing asked "So what's your name, anyway?" Soon it was beyond the senses of any human. But the vampire could see and hear enough to answer If she wanted. Evidently, she did.
"Willow," she said.
* * *
The next morning, Tara woke first. And that worried her. It wasn't that she woke early. As ever, she slept until maybe noon or so. On the wall, the clock read a quarter till one. Nothing odd in that. Tara was a little worried at how deeply Willow still slept.
Beside her, in the madeshift futon, Willow hardly stirred. Her breathing was deep, regular. Tara loved looking at her like this, all tensions in her face bled away and the real, most simple Willow revealed. Usually, Tara would have simply revelled in this opportunity to drink in the vision of her lover. She never tired of gazing at that face, those lips, this nose. Hers. Just as Tara was Willow's. Vampiric senses meant she could enjoy these moments far more than she ever could as a human. Each beat of Willow's heart pulsed slightly against her skin, a rhythm almost intoxicating. Just as the heat of Willow's living flesh pulled at Tara's undead body. She didn't want to rise, didn't want to move save to pull herself closer.
The temptation to stay coiled here was great. So, too, was the thought of placing her mouth upon Willow's throat, feeling that pulse against her lips and tongue, using her teeth to take that pulse into herself.
Almost...
But Willow should already be awake. As breathtaking as Willow was asleep (even though Tara had no breath, the metaphor still worked), her open eyes were incandescent. Tiny emerald stars. And they should be visible by now.
"Willow?"
Only a few seconds passed, but Tara repeated her name.
Seconds more, then a stirring. Not that of sleep. Of waking.
Emerald stars.
"Hey there sweetie." Willow's voice was slurred, but only a little. "What time is it?"
"Nearly one."
"That late?" She blinked. Then stretched in a way that brought her round and facing Tara. "Wore me out last night," she said with a mischievous smile.
"I try."
"You succeed!" And then a kiss--most wonderous of kisses imaginable.
Eventually it ended. "Bad dreams?"
"Nope." A little quick, that answer. "Why?"
"You said something in your sleep."
Her eyes got big, the way they sometimes did. "I did? What?" Now her voice was squeaking.
Tara shook her head. "No words, really. Sounds. But they seemed upset, afraid, even angry." One hand smoothed Willow's red hair back, revealing more of her face. "Bad dreams?"
"No! Not at all. Well, none I can remember. Probably the best kind, all things considered." She said it with a grin.
"Probably." Tara felt nearly certain Willow as lying, probably in an effort not to upset her. Not necessary, but a kind thought. And she hardly wanted to make a big issue out of it. Still, Willow obviously felt just a little guilty about lying, though--so why not take advantage? "But...just because you can't remember a bad dream, that doesn't mean you don't need some comfort after one. Right?" To emphasize the point, Tara ran her cool hands down Willow's bare back.
"I think...you're right." Willow's smile, as ever, reached deep into Tara. "Comfort is good." She jumped a little as Tara's hand reached the end of her back--and kept going. Her movement brought their lips within a hair's breadth of each other.
"Then...I have a duty, don't I?" Tara whispered.
"A duty?"
"My Willow needs comfort. I have a duty to comfort her." She stretched her hand still further down. Her reward was the kind of grin she loved seeing on Willow's face, complete with fun little gasp.
"I...I..."
"Yes?" Almost kissing now...
"...I think you're right..."
"Good."
The kissing began. It didn't stop for a long time.
* * *
Faith had long suspected she had a masochist streak somewhere. Now she was sure of it, or so she told herself the dozenth time or so she passed by the door where Tara and Red...well, they had been sleeping. Emphasis on "had." This last time she heard sounds. Moans, mostly. Plus some gasps. A few whimpers here and there, on top of groans--not quite the same sound as a moan, but close. Different, though. You had to listen very very closely to tell the difference.
And she did. For several minutes. It was one of the casual cruelties that life sometimes tossed out that a couple of times, she could have almost sworn Tara's voice had uttered her name. She didn't believe it, couldn't. But pretending was nice. Faith found herself leaning against the wall next to that door, eyes closed and listening. Almost without knowing it, she ran a hand from the outside to the inner thigh. Her other hand found the sharp point of a nipple, imagining for one sweet moment that the pinching there was not from fingers, but teeth. Long, sharp teeth.
Fangs.
She decided to stop listening. After a couple more minutes. Besides, somebody was ringing the damn doorbell...
En route to the door, Faith managed to shift gears by raw effort of will. Or had she? She did for amoment of two stop, tempted to go back for a listen or two. It was literally as if voices were whispering at her, inviting her back to that door, maybe even inside the room. Now that was an idea that just didn't bear thinking about. Much. Red was nice and all--damn cute, actually, but that was beside the point.
And--the doorbell was ringing. Still. Again.
Time to answer it! Now!
Now.
At the door, looking only a little stressed, stood Anne Steele. "Faith. Hi!" Uh-oh. Something was up. She had that worried expression Bee used to have when stuff started its journey to the fan. "Can I come in?" She didn't really look friendly, more business-like. Oh yeah.
"Sure." Faith stood aside, letting Anne inside. She pointed the way, then followed Anne her into the front room. "How's the shelter? Not too banged up?"
"Hardly at all, actually. We had to board up the celler door, put some furniture in front."
"Sorry about that."
"Not your fault."
"I know." Almost in unison, they sank in the two old sofas facing each other.
"Faith--your friend."
"Ain't got a lot of them."
"Yeah. Well, I mean Tara."
Now what? "Something wrong?"
"Maybe." Anne looked right at Faith, no hiding and no challenge. "Remember Justine? That girl who was there when you and Tara, and Willow showed up?" Faith couldn't help but notice how Anne put that. She wanted to correct her, but Anne continued. "I did some checking. Her sister--the one who died suddenly--she died of shock due to blood loss."
"Sounds familiar."
"Yeah, well Julia was Justine's twin. Think about that for a second. Now, I don't have any sisters--hell, any siblings--but I did lose someone I loved once. For a little while, after, I think maybe I went a little crazy. Or more than a little. But Justine--can you even imagine what it would be like to lose a twin? Someone exactly like you? The one person in the world you knew--knew--could and would understand you?"
Faith was silent. Then, "What's your point?"
"I did some checking," Anne said again. "Julia was running with a pretty wild crowd when she died. Wild as in weird. As in some folks who take the whole goth scene a little too far?"
"Uh...how far?"
"Like going around looking for vampires."
This was going nowhere good. Fast. "Let me guess--Justine has a chip on her shoulder the size of Alaska?"
"Maybe worse." Anne leaned back, looking if anything more serious. On her face, the effect was particularly effective.
"Okay. I'm listening."
"The police reports about Julia's murder said she was last seen with a short blonde girl wearing black."
"Sounds like every other goth out there. Well, except for being a blonde..."
Anne interrupted her. "A short blonde girl wearing an eyepatch."
Faith said nothing for what seemed like a long time. Anne didn't, either. Six, seven, eight, nine seconds passed without a word, without a movement. Just two sets of eyes locked together, sharing a secret neither of them wanted. Then...Faith leaned back in a near perfect copy of Anne's earlier gesture.
"Is there more?"
"Unfortunately," Anne nodded. "Justine has already seen those reports."
Shit.
TO BE CONTINUED