If You Invite Them In

The Scent

***George***

Gray. Dreary. Miserable.

A typical Liverpool day. Not a lick of sun in sight.

Perfect.

The lads and I make our way to The Cavern to set up for our gig.

The walk is rather short, and since the sun isn't out we're able to do it without discomfort.

We wave hello to the patrons already gathering at the bar as we shuffle into the backstage area.

I unpack my guitar wordlessly, staring at my reflection for a moment before tuning it skillfully.

"Any luck yet, Georgie boy?" John asks as he lights a cigarette.

I glance up, annoyance twisting my face into a sneer.

"Don't you think I would have said something, John?" I spit, turning my gaze back to my task.

I feel a tentative hand rest on my shoulder. I look up to see a small smile on Ringo's face, "we're just worried, y'know? You're paler than usual...you need to eat something..."

I sigh, placing my guitar back into its case.

"Here." Paul says simply, holding a flask in front of my face.

I take it and grimace. Nothing about this smells appetizing. At all.

I take a deep breath, tilting the cool metal to my lips and drink the entire thing as quickly as I can.

I thrust the small container back into Paul's palm, the bitter liquid still hot on my tongue.

"...still disgusting as ever." I spit, wiping my mouth on the sleeve of my leather jacket.

"We know, but until you find the one..." Paul says, tucking the flask back into his pocket.

"...I know..."

*****************

We head onto the stage, greeted by the usual shouts and waves from the rowdier females in the audience.

Paul says some witty crap I tune out, throws a few winks out and off we go with the Lennon-McCartney special, I Saw Her Standing There.

Halfway into the song my senses are jolted to life. A wonderful, delicious scent fills my nose. It's so strong I can almost taste it.

I've never smelled something so divine in my life.

I glance at the others, their eyes already fixated on me.

I search the room quickly, not matching a face to the scent.

Just as I strum the last chord, I see her. Leaning against the doorway, arms crossed.

She's never come here before...I'd remember that face...that smell....is this it? Is she it?

**************

Immediately after the show the lads bombard me with questions.

"Was that her?" Ringo asks, "your whole body language changed."

"Of course! I've never seen him react to any woman before! You gonna find 'er George?" Paul demands.

"George, did you smell her? Even I thought she smelled fantastic." John says, pushing me to the door.

"I..think so. But I can't just go out there, I need to be sure."

The three sigh in annoyance, but I don't give in, stepping from John's insistent pushing.

I need to be sure. I don't want to waste my time.

***********

Show after show, night after night I keep my eyes on her.

Her smell more intoxicating each time, it's like it was handcrafted just for me.

After a while I notice her eyes are drawn to me.

Each night her gaze falls upon me, and me alone.

She doesn't chat with anyone in the club. Simply comes in, has a drink, and watches me play.

She's as drawn to me as I am her, and that thought is thrilling in an unfamiliar way.

There are plenty of females here that pine for my attention. Touching my shoulder, inviting me outside for a ciggie, whispering filthy things into my ear.

But her. She just watches. Curious eyes on me each and every night.

Something shining deep within them. Something...apprehensive. Like she already knows the monster I am.

Yet she still comes. Every night.

I'm drawn into her more and more, the lads endlessly telling me to make a move.

Claim her. Take what's yours.

Her blood's song is heavenly to me, and it's becoming harder to resist.

She has to be the one. Or I wouldn't be feeling like this.

She's calling out to me. Her blood is calling my name, and I'm getting so very hungry....

She is it. I need her. All of her...wrapped around me as I feed....

Tonight is the night.

She will be mine.