Bit of a Bite

Bleeding Hearts and Vampires

The rest of work went by glumly, nothing more than hippies and ‘white witches’ coming in for incense and the occasional crystal or book. The urge to ask the ‘white witches’ what it feels like to be hunted and persecuted by demons had her chewing her lip for the last two hours. The sense of unease she had felt ever since she saw the two kids hadn’t left her. Like an ache between her shoulder blades that she couldn’t ease no matter how many times she rolled them back.

Gods, don’t let them do anything stupid, she prayed—ever hopeful that her one of her patron goddesses, Selene or Hecate, were listening in. That was the best she could do, right now she needed to push the thoughts aside and concentrate on navigating Supernatural infested streets without anyone sensing her. The walk was the one bad thing about working across town from her small apartment in New Orleans, one of the main hubs for Immortalia. But when you’re hiding, you always hide in plain sight.

The supernatural never check right under their noses.

Allison put her mental shields up, a process of simply keeping her mind empty. As a witch it was easy, a skill learned before puberty in preparation for inheriting her powers. A witch without the ability to control her thoughts and emotions was nearly as bad as a demon loose. At least a demon was predictable; they’d kill everyone and might even eat a few body parts. An out of control witch could do anything from exploding a person to turning a crowd of people into crystal statues—Allison was guilty of both but neither because she was out of control. Both events were completely intentional.

Good memories.

The streets had only become more crowded as the day grew later, humans and immortals alike were headed to one of the many bars or clubs that gave the party city its reputation. Life was just one big party, and Allison was the stick in the mud.

She was only a block away from her apartment when she felt it. Finger tips brushing up her spines and through her hair, someone was trying to read her—a rare ability that allowed immortals or supernaturals to tell what someone was and even read their thoughts. Tension filled her shoulders. They wouldn’t be able to actually get anything from her, but that was just as bad. Humans could be read, easily. Only immortals or other supernatural beings could block it, even then it took skill and age to perfect it.

Cursing her bad luck she glanced around, trying to find the offender. The streets held nothing but people; she nearly decided it was just nerves when she saw the glint of red in the shadows.

It took every ounce of strength she had not to freeze in her tracks, terrified like a rabbit caught in the wolf’s gaze. She continued walking, sweeping her gaze over him as if she hadn’t seen his blood red eyes. Vampire, definitely a vampire. The chance that this creature was the one trying to read her was high since she didn’t see any other immortals in the streets or shadows.

Gritting her teeth she looked around her, hunting for somewhere to go other than her home. It was warded against immortals, but depending on the vampire’s age her wards might just tickle him pink on his way to eating her. Or draining her dry…it depended on the kind of vampire she was dealing with.

The lahmia, vampires that resembled modern days’ depictions of the creatures weren’t really that bad. They drank blood to survive yes, but they were also born vampires with pure blood—after a hundred years they had perfect control of both their Thirst and abilities. They could choose to turn their victims, but turned vampires weren’t considered lahmia but classified by what they had been before the change. Dhampirs were humans changed into vampires, demons—though rare—were called vamons and so on and so forth.

Then there were draugr, revenants—vampires brought to life by necromancy. Controlled, the draugr were like lahmia and only drank blood. But very few necromancers were able to control a draugr and died in the process, leaving the vampire masterless and free to do whatever the hell he or she wanted. One of the things they all seemed to want to do: eat a little flesh with their blood. Kind of like zombies except they don’t turn their victims into a zombie or a draugr, they just ripped them to pieces and ate what they pleased.