VAMPYRE

..CHAPTER TWO

Loneliness! That’s rich, he muses. He remembered loneliness as the one emotion that he, as prince, could ill afford. But, remembering his blessèd Anna; he had felt a real emptiness after she had died at the hands of his enemies and his treacherous brother. It was small consolation that her tormentors were dead soon after. What they had done to her, his Anna.....the blackness had nearly consumed him when he found her. Even now, after all these years, it still threatened to overwhelm him. He shook his head, as he had then and was rewarded a clear focus for the rage that followed. The rage he would never be entirely rid of was still with him as if it had happened mere moments ago. Sanity, of a sort, returned him to the here and now, repressing that rage back to where he had kept it for so very long. He thought of Melanie, the mortal woman he had come to know in these past days few days, and managed a smile.
She smiled nearly all of the time. How odd, most people, especially here in America seldom smiled at all. She even found it surprising when he mentioned it, completely unaware that she was, in fact, smiling. Perhaps, he thought, because she defies all logic and yet is truly who she appears to be. A strange creature with smiling, murky colored eyes who made him feel human.
Standing before her building beneath a layer of cloud cover that muted the deadly sunlight, he again saw the face of his beloved Anna, a moment of intense pain gripped him then. Inwardly he cursed those who had taken her from him all those years ago, sighed heavily and pushed the memories back yet again, before he entered the apartment building.
She answered the door immediately, even as he was about to knock. “Not sleeping then?” he asked, trying to look displeased. “I couldn’t sleep. Maybe now that you’re here though...” she said, sighing heavily. “It’s been a very long day.”
He took her hand then and put it to his face before he held her. He wondered then, what is it about her? And it was hardly lost on him that he was the cause of her troubled state, he had even ceased hunting in her part of the city since, still.... He held her a long time, her scent filling him with a pleasure he had not felt for so long, a pleasure he had never thought he’d feel again.
If he told her now, she would fear him, run from him. No, not yet, maybe not ever. No, he could not lose her yet, he decided. He would savor the time with her, hold her like he held her now and---at least for now---feel human.
He spent the better part of the afternoon lying beside her while she slept. Her breathing was slow and even, and he discovered, as beautiful as any symphony. Her scent permeated the room, here and there combined with the subtle scents of patchouli and jasmine incense. He breathed deeply the scent of this happy mortal beside him and felt more content than he had ever thought possible... well.. since Anna. There was a similarity between she and his Anna, a joy for the simplest pleasures of life. But there were many differences as well: where Anna had been a very timid creature, there was a fierceness in Melanie; where Anna wanted a home and children, Melanie wanted to experience life to the fullest before committing to a family and home; Anna was slight yet built well for children; Melanie was tall with long legs that seemed to go on forever, but she too, was well built for future children. Children, he knew now, he would never have. And, until now, something he had not thought he’d ever need or want.
Elsewhere in the city, a scream rang out as glass shattered on the floor. Neighbors ran to the door and began to pound, loudly; the screaming continued, a hopeless, helpless, terrified cry. It was a sound that preceded a sight that Marion Wilson, county social service worker would never forget. A young blond woman lay sprawled across the floor, pale, so very pale, yet in death a peaceful expression permanently etched upon her face. Marion was the first to pick up the phone and dial 911 even as the other woman’s screams were replaced with the most mournful sob’s she had ever heard. Forcing her gaze from that of the dead girl, she saw the shattered tea service, stark against the deep green of the linoleum. As she concentrated hard on the broken china, she found she was able to give the address to the police as well as her name. But, as she replaced the phone her gaze returned to that face, so serene in death, had she ever been so lovely ever in life? Marion supposed not. For a brief moment, she supposed later due to shock, she envied that peace, envied it so very much. resting her hand on the shoulder of the woman kneeling beside her daughter, she waited for the police. It was almost immediately she heard them, their sirens wailing through the busy afternoon streets.
“Hey, lady...” “Marion,” she offered. “right, Marion,” said patrolman Deitrich, “could you get her out of here, we have work to do and..” he hesitated before adding, “it will be harder for her if she stays.” Marion nodded and helped another policeman lead the distraught mother from the room. Shaking his head, he said to his sergeant, “Another one, just like the others; no blood, no apparent struggle and that damn ‘happy look’ on her face.”
“Not just like the others, where are your eyes?” replied sergeant Menot.
“Oh,” said Deitrich, “no knife this time. Either our perp has made his first mistake or..”
“Don’t even think it!” said Menot. “Two guys like this and we’re done. It’s bad enough that we aren’t even on the same page as this goon.”
“Still think it’s a medical specialist type gone around the bend thinking he’s a vampire?” asked Deitrich. Better that, a rational explanation, than the outrageous alternative.
Bending to examine the body, Menot said aloud, “No bite on the neck with this one, hmm.” After a moment, “Ah, there. He’s getting creative now; great.” pointing at the inner thigh. “femoral artery I suspect. Gina will be more certain. She on her way?”
“Yes, got her on her cell phone from the living room.”
“Meanwhile, let’s get what we can from the live ones, shall we?” Menot spared a last glance at the victim, thinking, not for the first time, how inhumane it is to leave her lying there uncovered and exposed.
Deep in the cellar of the abandoned church, two blocks away, the vampyre rested in the deep cold of his death-like sleep. His last thought before dawn broke was the sharp, sweet, intoxicating taste of his last meal. Would that they all tasted as lovely as she, but, they could not; for cattle, they were as individual as a snowflake or the leave of a tree. But how he enjoyed finding a sweet one, he had smiled. Unlike his brother, his smile was not filled with an aching sadness but a cold hearted killer’s sense of true, god-like superiority. Oh, it was so good to be bad, thought he. Then, the dawn had come turning him cold as true death might, were it able. And, he slept, blissfully uncaring for those he had fed on. Secretly hoping to catch up with his long lost and lonely brother, the brother who believes me dead.
When evening came he woke suddenly, as if coming up for air after long held back beneath the waves of the ocean. But, there was no water, just the same walls and heavy dark curtains of the apartment that was now his home. He sat surveying the empty room wondering what was wrong, or more precisely, what wasn’t exactly right. A peculiar sense of forboding was creeping into his mind, and yet, nothing seemed amiss. Still, he reminded himself, instinct is an inherent part of the creature he had become. Thus, he got up from his bed and began checking the room as thoroughly as he had when he had first chosen it. A vampyre’s home must be many things but more than anything, it must be secure.
Each window was still sealed tight, the skylight latch closed, that could be thrown only from the inside if the need ever arose for a hasty retreat. Each door was as he had left it. He checked each room one by one. Everything was neatly laid out exactly as it had been when he had returned the previous morning before the dawn: the bathroom, all the towels folded neatly or the one that was hung from his last use; the clothing he had worn hung on the open closet door in the bedroom; shoes placed neatly upon the mat just inside the living room entrance; keys in the glass ashtray on the small table nearby. He was just beginning to think he must be mistaken when the distinct smell of old blood caught his attention, and there, lying upon the small kitchen table was a mound of flesh, the blood brown and crusted from an old kill.
He knew what it was before he approached. What he didn’t know was how it had come to be there. He examined it a moment and yes, indeed, it was a human heart. He smelled it, sweet, coppery and intoxicating and most decidedly feminine. Knowing he would not find who had put it there, he, nonetheless, looked about the room. Speaking only to himself, Peter said, “It seems I am not the last of my kind.” All the years of hoping, searching, waiting and now that he knew, he found the thought did not please him as he had always thought it would. Staring at the heart in his hand, he felt a sadness he could not understand. Sadness for the victim? Surely not. He had not become that soft, had he? Yet there was an unfamiliar emotion that he simply could not understand. As he bit deeply into the meat to find only a bit of the moisture still viable, he wondered who had left it. After draining it as dry as possible, he calmly dumped the remainder into the garbage disposal.
So, my mysterious friend, you have given me a gift. What shall you want of me then? Who are you? Why hide from me? Fear? Or is it something else?
The rain had started well before her shift began, it was raining as hard now as when it began. She stood by the big window that looked out onto the empty street, thinking it might never stop, this rain. There was supposed to be a full moon tonight, but with all the cloud cover it was well hidden. She idly remembered a line form an old horror movie. ‘It’s an evil moon, tonight.’ said an old man as he spoke to a young lady, warning her to stay indoors. But, as in all old horror movies, she hadn’t taken the advice and was killed by some creature of the underworld, Werewolf, Vampire, something like that. Not the things Mel feared of the modern world. No, she thought, there are worse things out there than those. Young, desperate, hungry drug addicts that would slit a throat to steal a near empty purse. Still, standing there at the window, she had a bad feeling about the night, and the rain, and anything that might be out in it looking for a victim. It has been nearly a month, she thought, and I still can’t get the fear to go away, the fear I had never even known until I saw the coroner’s car that day. What in the hell does it mean, anyway? I can’t sleep anymore, unless, of course, Peter is with me. That is very bad. I don’t want to become dependent on him that way, or anyone, for that matter. Grow back your guts woman, she scolded herself as she turned from the window. Then she heard the door behind her bang open suddenly. Her blood ran cold. Taking a slow breath to calm herself she turned to see what the night had brought her.
He stood there smiling. Big happy grin, dripping wet in a long, black, wool coat. The smile should have relieved her fear, somehow it made it worse. "Can I help you?"
"I would truly appreciate a hot brandy, the finest you serve will be fine with me, my dear." Said the man with an accent not unlike Anna’s. Maybe he is related to the woman and just blew into town? She really was hoping it was a possibility.
"Sure, Korbel OK? She asked.
"That will be fine with me." He replied, though it sounded more like, zat vil be fine. Hearing Anna mangle the English made her smile a smile of kind indulgence. But from him, it made her skin crawl. Then she realized it was the same accent of the infamous Count Dracula in the movie. Oh great, she mused, now I’m serving brandy to vampires in the wee hours, just what I needed on a night like this. Now, that, she thought, is absurd. When the brandy was warmed, she set it before him carefully. She then turned away to begin her cleaning of glassware that, of course was already shining. Still, she took a dry towel and polished as if her life depended on the distraction. She could feel him watching her with his dark, almost black eyes. Oh, yippie skippie, she thought. She wanted to lie and say she was closing but couldn’t force herself to send a poor foreigner out into the stormy night just because she was scared of her own shadow these days.
"You are all alone here?" he asked.
"Ah, not really," she lied. "the owner has a small place in back that he stays in. That way he can be here in the morning on days when he has to go to the bank." As soon as she said bank, she thought, that was really stupid. But, no, he looked too well dressed to be a thief. "That is good for you then. It is a bad night tonight." He said sagely. And she thought of the old man in the movie again and shuddered. She turned then to see his face and for a moment, no, couldn’t be… his teeth looked… different. Oh, sweet Jesus, I am going nuts. She looked away, just as he began to smile bigger. To her vast relief, he stood and downed the remaining brandy. "Have a pleasant evening, my dear." He said with a wave, then turned and went back out into the stormy night.
Mel was so scared she felt as if she would be physically ill. She was gripping the edge of the bar so hard her knuckles were white, as the door opened again, more slowly. "Hi Mel." Said Peter, pulling off his long coat. Then he saw her face. Mel! What’s wrong? Are you alright?" He looked around the bar for a sign of trouble, robber with a gun, something. Seeing nothing, he came around the bar and took her in his arms. She was shaking, really frightened. "Tell me, Mel, tell me what’s happened."
"I know you’re going to think I’m crazy, but I know that Vampires exist!" She felt him stiffen and thought, yup, he thinks I’ve flipped out.
He backed away carefully to look into her eyes. No, he thought, I cannot harm her and I cannot change her but…
"OK, so maybe it’s my imagination, but I swear to you if there is such a thing, one was just here and he scared the living shit out of me. Worse, he knew I was afraid and was getting off on it."
"OK," he said, more relaxed now. "tell me why you thought the guy was a vampire, I mean, c’mon Mel, really tell me."
"I know how nuts it sounds, but, OK, here goes. He has the blackest eyes I’ve ever seen and he talks like Anna, well, like Dracula, ya know, in the movie? And he was asking if I was alone and said something about it being a bad night, ya know like," she lowered her voice and adopted the accent, repeating the line from the movie for effect. "Then when I looked at him again, I swear, something about his teeth, the shape of his mouth had changed. God, it was so creepy. Then he just smiled like he thought it was funny, ya know, that I was so scared, and left."
"Why don’t you just close up here and we’ll go back to your house. At least that guy is gone and hopefully he won’t be back. Have you thought about asking Jack about switching to days, or even getting work elsewhere?"
"As a matter of fact, I have, but I couldn’t do that to Jack. He waited years to have his nights at home with Anna." Just hearing that name used to be like a thorn in his heart, but he had grown stronger. Jack’s Anna was also from the old country where that very name was the most common of women’s names. Jack’s Anna, he also knew, suspected that a vampire was among them. She had told him so herself, all the while watching for his reaction. And now, he was not only certain there was another one, he was quite certain he would likely know him if he were to see him. He doubted that he had happened upon this bar purely by chance either. There was more than slight chance that Peter’s involvement was putting Melanie at risk, just as he had his beloved, Anna. "Peter, I just can’t, at least not now." Mel was saying. "This fear of mine is not normal. Maybe I need therapy or something. I don’t know. I can’t let fear run my life."
"We’ll see," he said, we’ll see." And thought, we will indeed."

To Be Continued....

Loneliness! That’s rich, he muses. He remembered loneliness as the one emotion that he, as prince, could ill afford. But, remembering his blessèd Anna; he had felt a real emptiness after she had died at the hands of his enemies and his treacherous brother. It was small consolation that her tormentors were dead soon after. What they had done to her, his Anna.....the blackness had nearly consumed him when he found her. Even now, after all these years, it still threatened to overwhelm him. He shook his head, as he had then and was rewarded a clear focus for the rage that followed. The rage he would never be entirely rid of was still with him as if it had happened mere moments ago. Sanity, of a sort, returned him to the here and now, repressing that rage back to where he had kept it for so very long. He thought of Melanie, the mortal woman he had come to know in these past days few days, and managed a smile. She smiled nearly all of the time. How odd, most people, especially here in America seldom smiled at all. She even found it surprising when he mentioned it, completely unaware that she was, in fact, smiling. Perhaps, he thought, because she defies all logic and yet is truly who she appears to be. A strange creature with smiling, murky colored eyes who made him feel human. Standing before her building beneath a layer of cloud cover that muted the deadly sunlight, he again saw the face of his beloved Anna, a moment of intense pain gripped him then. Inwardly he cursed those who had taken her from him all those years ago, sighed heavily and pushed the memories back yet again, before he entered the apartment building. She answered the door immediately, even as he was about to knock. “Not sleeping then?” he asked, trying to look displeased. “I couldn’t sleep. Maybe now that you’re here though...” she said, sighing heavily. “It’s been a very long day.” He took her hand then and put it to his face before he held her. He wondered then, what is it about her? And it was hardly lost on him that he was the cause of her troubled state, he had even ceased hunting in her part of the city since, still.... He held her a long time, her scent filling him with a pleasure he had not felt for so long, a pleasure he had never thought he’d feel again. If he told her now, she would fear him, run from him. No, not yet, maybe not ever. No, he could not lose her yet, he decided. He would savor the time with her, hold her like he held her now and---at least for now---feel human. He spent the better part of the afternoon lying beside her while she slept. Her breathing was slow and even, and he discovered, as beautiful as any symphony. Her scent permeated the room, here and there combined with the subtle scents of patchouli and jasmine incense. He breathed deeply the scent of this happy mortal beside him and felt more content than he had ever thought possible... well.. since Anna. There was a similarity between she and his Anna, a joy for the simplest pleasures of life. But there were many differences as well: where Anna had been a very timid creature, there was a fierceness in Melanie; where Anna wanted a home and children, Melanie wanted to experience life to the fullest before committing to a family and home; Anna was slight yet built well for children; Melanie was tall with long legs that seemed to go on forever, but she too, was well built for future children. Children, he knew now, he would never have. And, until now, something he had not thought he’d ever need or want. Elsewhere in the city, a scream rang out as glass shattered on the floor. Neighbors ran to the door and began to pound, loudly; the screaming continued, a hopeless, helpless, terrified cry. It was a sound that preceded a sight that Marion Wilson, county social service worker would never forget. A young blond woman lay sprawled across the floor, pale, so very pale, yet in death a peaceful expression permanently etched upon her face. Marion was the first to pick up the phone and dial 911 even as the other woman’s screams were replaced with the most mournful sob’s she had ever heard. Forcing her gaze from that of the dead girl, she saw the shattered tea service, stark against the deep green of the linoleum. As she concentrated hard on the broken china, she found she was able to give the address to the police as well as her name. But, as she replaced the phone her gaze returned to that face, so serene in death, had she ever been so lovely ever in life? Marion supposed not. For a brief moment, she supposed later due to shock, she envied that peace, envied it so very much. resting her hand on the shoulder of the woman kneeling beside her daughter, she waited for the police. It was almost immediately she heard them, their sirens wailing through the busy afternoon streets. “Hey, lady...” “Marion,” she offered. “right, Marion,” said patrolman Deitrich, “could you get her out of here, we have work to do and..” he hesitated before adding, “it will be harder for her if she stays.” Marion nodded and helped another policeman lead the distraught mother from the room. Shaking his head, he said to his sergeant, “Another one, just like the others; no blood, no apparent struggle and that damn ‘happy look’ on her face.” “Not just like the others, where are your eyes?” replied sergeant Menot. “Oh,” said Deitrich, “no knife this time. Either our perp has made his first mistake or..” “Don’t even think it!” said Menot. “Two guys like this and we’re done. It’s bad enough that we aren’t even on the same page as this goon.” “Still think it’s a medical specialist type gone around the bend thinking he’s a vampire?” asked Deitrich. Better that, a rational explanation, than the outrageous alternative. Bending to examine the body, Menot said aloud, “No bite on the neck with this one, hmm.” After a moment, “Ah, there. He’s getting creative now; great.” pointing at the inner thigh. “femoral artery I suspect. Gina will be more certain. She on her way?” “Yes, got her on her cell phone from the living room.” “Meanwhile, let’s get what we can from the live ones, shall we?” Menot spared a last glance at the victim, thinking, not for the first time, how inhumane it is to leave her lying there uncovered and exposed. Deep in the cellar of the abandoned church, two blocks away, the vampyre rested in the deep cold of his death-like sleep. His last thought before dawn broke was the sharp, sweet, intoxicating taste of his last meal. Would that they all tasted as lovely as she, but, they could not; for cattle, they were as individual as a snowflake or the leave of a tree. But how he enjoyed finding a sweet one, he had smiled. Unlike his brother, his smile was not filled with an aching sadness but a cold hearted killer’s sense of true, god-like superiority. Oh, it was so good to be bad, thought he. Then, the dawn had come turning him cold as true death might, were it able. And, he slept, blissfully uncaring for those he had fed on. Secretly hoping to catch up with his long lost and lonely brother, the brother who believes me dead. When evening came he woke suddenly, as if coming up for air after long held back beneath the waves of the ocean. But, there was no water, just the same walls and heavy dark curtains of the apartment that was now his home. He sat surveying the empty room wondering what was wrong, or more precisely, what wasn’t exactly right. A peculiar sense of forboding was creeping into his mind, and yet, nothing seemed amiss. Still, he reminded himself, instinct is an inherent part of the creature he had become. Thus, he got up from his bed and began checking the room as thoroughly as he had when he had first chosen it. A vampyre’s home must be many things but more than anything, it must be secure. Each window was still sealed tight, the skylight latch closed, that could be thrown only from the inside if the need ever arose for a hasty retreat. Each door was as he had left it. He checked each room one by one. Everything was neatly laid out exactly as it had been when he had returned the previous morning before the dawn: the bathroom, all the towels folded neatly or the one that was hung from his last use; the clothing he had worn hung on the open closet door in the bedroom; shoes placed neatly upon the mat just inside the living room entrance; keys in the glass ashtray on the small table nearby. He was just beginning to think he must be mistaken when the distinct smell of old blood caught his attention, and there, lying upon the small kitchen table was a mound of flesh, the blood brown and crusted from an old kill. He knew what it was before he approached. What he didn’t know was how it had come to be there. He examined it a moment and yes, indeed, it was a human heart. He smelled it, sweet, coppery and intoxicating and most decidedly feminine. Knowing he would not find who had put it there, he, nonetheless, looked about the room. Speaking only to himself, Peter said, “It seems I am not the last of my kind.” All the years of hoping, searching, waiting and now that he knew, he found the thought did not please him as he had always thought it would. Staring at the heart in his hand, he felt a sadness he could not understand. Sadness for the victim? Surely not. He had not become that soft, had he? Yet there was an unfamiliar emotion that he simply could not understand. As he bit deeply into the meat to find only a bit of the moisture still viable, he wondered who had left it. After draining it as dry as possible, he calmly dumped the remainder into the garbage disposal. So, my mysterious friend, you have given me a gift. What shall you want of me then? Who are you? Why hide from me? Fear? Or is it something else? The rain had started well before her shift began, it was raining as hard now as when it began. She stood by the big window that looked out onto the empty street, thinking it might never stop, this rain. There was supposed to be a full moon tonight, but with all the cloud cover it was well hidden. She idly remembered a line form an old horror movie. ‘It’s an evil moon, tonight.’ said an old man as he spoke to a young lady, warning her to stay indoors. But, as in all old horror movies, she hadn’t taken the advice and was killed by some creature of the underworld, Werewolf, Vampire, something like that. Not the things Mel feared of the modern world. No, she thought, there are worse things out there than those. Young, desperate, hungry drug addicts that would slit a throat to steal a near empty purse. Still, standing there at the window, she had a bad feeling about the night, and the rain, and anything that might be out in it looking for a victim. It has been nearly a month, she thought, and I still can’t get the fear to go away, the fear I had never even known until I saw the coroner’s car that day. What in the hell does it mean, anyway? I can’t sleep anymore, unless, of course, Peter is with me. That is very bad. I don’t want to become dependent on him that way, or anyone, for that matter. Grow back your guts woman, she scolded herself as she turned from the window. Then she heard the door behind her bang open suddenly. Her blood ran cold. Taking a slow breath to calm herself she turned to see what the night had brought her. He stood there smiling. Big happy grin, dripping wet in a long, black, wool coat. The smile should have relieved her fear, somehow it made it worse. "Can I help you?" "I would truly appreciate a hot brandy, the finest you serve will be fine with me, my dear." Said the man with an accent not unlike Anna’s. Maybe he is related to the woman and just blew into town? She really was hoping it was a possibility. "Sure, Korbel OK? She asked. "That will be fine with me." He replied, though it sounded more like, zat vil be fine. Hearing Anna mangle the English made her smile a smile of kind indulgence. But from him, it made her skin crawl. Then she realized it was the same accent of the infamous Count Dracula in the movie. Oh great, she mused, now I’m serving brandy to vampires in the wee hours, just what I needed on a night like this. Now, that, she thought, is absurd. When the brandy was warmed, she set it before him carefully. She then turned away to begin her cleaning of glassware that, of course was already shining. Still, she took a dry towel and polished as if her life depended on the distraction. She could feel him watching her with his dark, almost black eyes. Oh, yippie skippie, she thought. She wanted to lie and say she was closing but couldn’t force herself to send a poor foreigner out into the stormy night just because she was scared of her own shadow these days. "You are all alone here?" he asked. "Ah, not really," she lied. "the owner has a small place in back that he stays in. That way he can be here in the morning on days when he has to go to the bank." As soon as she said bank, she thought, that was really stupid. But, no, he looked too well dressed to be a thief. "That is good for you then. It is a bad night tonight." He said sagely. And she thought of the old man in the movie again and shuddered. She turned then to see his face and for a moment, no, couldn’t be… his teeth looked… different. Oh, sweet Jesus, I am going nuts. She looked away, just as he began to smile bigger. To her vast relief, he stood and downed the remaining brandy. "Have a pleasant evening, my dear." He said with a wave, then turned and went back out into the stormy night. Mel was so scared she felt as if she would be physically ill. She was gripping the edge of the bar so hard her knuckles were white, as the door opened again, more slowly. "Hi Mel." Said Peter, pulling off his long coat. Then he saw her face. Mel! What’s wrong? Are you alright?" He looked around the bar for a sign of trouble, robber with a gun, something. Seeing nothing, he came around the bar and took her in his arms. She was shaking, really frightened. "Tell me, Mel, tell me what’s happened." "I know you’re going to think I’m crazy, but I know that Vampires exist!" She felt him stiffen and thought, yup, he thinks I’ve flipped out. He backed away carefully to look into her eyes. No, he thought, I cannot harm her and I cannot change her but… "OK, so maybe it’s my imagination, but I swear to you if there is such a thing, one was just here and he scared the living shit out of me. Worse, he *knew* I was afraid and was getting off on it." "OK," he said, more relaxed now. "tell me why you thought the guy was a vampire, I mean, c’mon Mel, really tell me." "I know how nuts it sounds, but, OK, here goes. He has the blackest eyes I’ve ever seen and he talks like Anna, well, like Dracula, ya know, in the movie? And he was asking if I was alone and said something about it being a bad night, ya know like," she lowered her voice and adopted the accent, repeating the line from the movie for effect. "Then when I looked at him again, I swear, something about his teeth, the shape of his mouth had changed. God, it was so creepy. Then he just smiled like he thought it was funny, ya know, that I was so scared, and left." "Why don’t you just close up here and we’ll go back to your house. At least that guy is gone and hopefully he won’t be back. Have you thought about asking Jack about switching to days, or even getting work elsewhere?" "As a matter of fact, I have, but I couldn’t do that to Jack. He waited years to have his nights at home with Anna." Just hearing that name used to be like a thorn in his heart, but he had grown stronger. Jack’s Anna was also from the old country where that very name was the most common of women’s names. Jack’s Anna, he also knew, suspected that a vampire was among them. She had told him so herself, all the while watching for his reaction. And now, he was not only certain there was another one, he was quite certain he would likely know him if he were to see him. He doubted that he had happened upon this bar purely by chance either. There was more than slight chance that Peter’s involvement was putting Melanie at risk, just as he had his beloved, Anna. "Peter, I just can’t, at least not now." Mel was saying. "This fear of mine is not normal. Maybe I need therapy or something. I don’t know. I can’t let fear run my life." "We’ll see," he said, we’ll see." And thought, we will indeed."
To Be Continued....

On to Chapter Three?