his lips were crimson [vampire]

MOST PEOPLE ONLY GET ONE FUTURE, ONE CAREER, AND ONE LIFE, and as Christian Vasiliev sat on a random bar stool in the corner of the Tana, regretting everything he’d done that day, he realized he never got to experience the type of sacrifices a normal human being had to make.

The possibilities of what he could do with his life were endless and he never lived the same life twice. He lived every day different, not wanting to put the curse of his immortal body to waste.

As he looked across the Tana, he found himself bored.

To the right of him was the bar, people downing shot glasses and conversing with strangers, desperately trying to forget the bad decisions they made or the danger they felt surrounding them. To the left, people were dancing, rubbing their sweat covered bodies over each other, banging their heads to an almost nonexistent tune, as the Tana’s light jazz echoed off the walls.

Two types of people with the same worries and concerns stood—or danced—side by side, not a care in the world. Neither interested Christian though, and perhaps it was because he wasn’t entirely sure where he wanted the night to go.

There was a list of bad decisions he made, and he didn’t want to add on to it. He rubbed his tired eyes softly, slouching into his chair to make himself more comfortable.

“You know,” it was an unfamiliar voice. “Most people don’t waste their time coming down here only to sleep.” Christian laughed.

“I’m a man of mystery.”

“You don’t say,” the woman sat down next to Christian and rested her hand on his knee. “What’s bothering you tonight?”

Sighing, Christian opened his eyes to stare at the woman. She had ginger hair, bob length, and green eyes—the type of girl he never really went for. She seemed innocent, but he knew people all too well to believe it was true. “I’m just here for the music. It’s hard to find good jazz anywhere nowadays.” The girl smiled, pressing her rose lips together.

“And somehow I just don’t believe that.”

He laughed and took another sip from the glass of alcohol placed in front of him. He wasn’t sure what was in it, but he knew it was the only thing helping him get through the night.

“You’re intense,” the girl noted.

“Ah,” Christian laughed, “and that’s where the mystery comes in.” The woman’s hand, which was placed delicately on his knee, moved further up his thigh.

“Would you like to dance,” she paused, staring into Christian’s hazel-grey eyes, “man of mystery?”

He shook his head and took another drink of his beverage. He wasn’t drunk enough for whatever game the woman wanted to play with him. “Something tells me you don’t know much about jazz,” he sighed, grabbing her hand, placing it into his. With her hand off his inner thigh, he somehow felt better about what he was about to do. He placed her hand carefully onto her own leg. “Take care,” he told her, looking forward at the wide variety of wines on their stools, hoping she would take the hint.

The woman frowned, stood up from her seat and placed a hand on Christian’s shoulder. “If you want me,” she said, leaning in towards his ear to whisper, “I’ll be on the dance floor.”

Christian let her walk away before he turned his head towards the bartender in hopes to get something stronger. The bartender was chatting with a woman on the far side of the bar, and when he turned away, Christian was met with a familiar face.

She was the only person Christian wanted to talk to and see before he met with the witch. He had been calling her for weeks, following as many leads as possible to get to her, but every end was a dead one. To see her in the Tana, sitting just a few mere yards away, gave him the most satisfactory feeling in the world.

She wore her hair down, her raven locks hung just below her elbows, and framed her thin oval shaped face well. Christian wasn’t sure if it was the fact he hadn’t seen her in a century, or the fact she always looked that way, but her eyes were so dark that it actually lured him in more. Christian couldn’t help the smile that planted itself firmly on his face.

The woman was unaware of him watching her, too busy chatting with the bartender to even notice his wandering eyes. She wore a tight black turtleneck top that clung to her petite frame, her pink lips wrapped around a martini glass. She was one of the most beautiful people he ever laid his eyes on, yet something still seemed off.

Shoving his wallet into his pocket, he grabbed his dark brown suede jacket and rested it on the top of his forearm. Standing up, he pushed the stool closer to the table, making his way towards the woman.

She was extremely pale; her hands fragile, careless and light. He could tell by the way her fingers wrapped around the glass. As Christian got closer, he noticed the smaller details of her composure; how she was shivering and desperately trying to hide it, how her lips were so crisp that they looked like fresh fall leaves. She looked ill, but he knew immortals didn’t get sick.

As soon as he reached the girl, he stopped abruptly. He didn’t know what he was going to say or how he was going to say it. He was nervous; he hadn’t seen her in so long. He wasn’t sure if she still cared for him the way he cared for her. The type of bond they had was unbreakable, but she avoided him for a hundred years.

Her lips moved slowly as she talked to the bartender. “I’m actually traveling from Paris,” she told him. Her voice was hoarse and crisp, like she had been choking down wolfsbane. “I haven’t been in the America’s forever it seems.” She cleared her throat and took a sip of the martini. “I miss it actually.”

The bartender handed her a shot glass. “Why were you in Paris anyway?” She shrugged.

“It got complicated here. There were people I didn’t wanna see. There was the world to travel. I meant to come back sooner but Paris was something different, you know. I feel like I’ve seen the whole world no—,” The woman stopped talking for a second and grabbed the napkin to her right, coughing into it quickly.

The bartender leaned over, slapping her back lightly to help her cough. “Are you okay?”

“The weather’s much different here,” she looked at the napkin, taking in a deep breath at the sight of the cloth. “I’m just sick, that’s all.” Christian looked down at the napkin, horrified by blood that turned the napkin red. She crumbled it into a ball and pushed it into the empty martini glass. “I’m just sick.”

“Vampires don’t get sick,” Christian muttered, taking the attention away from the bartender. When the woman saw Christian, her shoulders tensed up. It was unexpected, she hid from him for so long that she forgot what it was like to be in his presence.

“Christian,” she whispered. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same.” Christian sat in the seat next to her and turned towards the bartender. “Can I get something strong please?” He shook his head, turning away to make Christian a drink. “Are you taking wolfsbane?” he asked, his eyes glancing at the napkin she put in the glass. There was only reason she would be coughing up blood, and it had to do with taking poisonous herbs.

“I’m building up my tolerance,” she laughed at the thought, she knew how stupid it must have sounded to him. She was in a lot of pain, but she realized he’d never understand..

“You’re killing yourself.” Christian solemnly placed his hand onto her shoulder, concerned for her well being.

“I’m not,” she responded, downing a shot.

“You don’t need to build your tolerance up Gianna.” His eyes darkened in desperation, and he placed his hand on top of hers. “Is someone after you?” She shook her head, hoping it showed that she was out of trouble and safe.

“You are leaving V,” she used as much energy as she could to shoot him a smile. “Without you, I need to limit the number of things that can kill me.”

“Dimitri will keep you safe,” Christian whispered.

“Dimitri has not devoted his life to me the way you have.” She doubted herself and the alliance that Christian made with Dimitri. “He promised to help me for you, but he will leave the second trouble comes. He’s a poor excuse for a vampire.”

The bartender placed a glass on the table in front of them, pushing it towards Christian. “Another one?” He asked, turning towards Gianna to grab her martini glass.

“Yes please,” she responded. Her face was sunken and dull from the herbs, it broke Christian’s heart. The bartender turned to leave again. “V,” she turned to look at Christian. “I am four hundred years old. It’s okay. I can take care of myself now.”

He found himself taken aback. The amount of growth he saw in Gianna was overbearing. He missed so much of her life, and he wasn’t sure if she was the same girl he turned centuries ago.

“Why haven’t you come to see me?” he asked. “Why have you been running from me?”

“It’s dangerous now Christian. You have to realize that.” She was right, he could not deny it. “If you tell me what you’re planning with the witch, I have to break our communication. They can use that against me. They can use me to get to you and I will not survive it. I love you V, but we have to look out for each other by not being with each other. Surely you understand.”

Christian looked at her; he didn’t know what to say. It became so quiet that he could hear his own heart beating in his chest. It was his fault she was on the run. He did this to her. “I’m fine Christian,” she spoke, putting her hand on his shoulder. “Really, I’m okay.” She must have seen the look of guilt and regret on Christian’s face. It was never easy for him to hide his expressions from her. She laughed faintly, rocking herself into Christian. “You have the world to save,” her voice was like honey now, her system finally started to fight off the wolfsbane. “Why worry about me?”

Christian had no words for her. Nothing he could say would change the fact that he ruined her life. The only thing that would keep her from leaving him was to stop the one thing that threatened her existence.

“I love you G,” he said, grasping her hand into his. He kissed her knuckles and then placed her hand back onto the table. “I have to go now.”

Christian put his coat on, turning away from her. It was time to leave. He had to keep his promise to the witch; he had to save Gianna, and he had to save the rest of the world.

“I love you too V.”

⚫⚫⚫⚫

Christian stood outside the witch’s house, eyeing the small, cube shaped building. It was at the end of a long, narrow, abandoned road. He could see the Landing on the south side of the giant neighborhood hill. It was faint and small due to the distance, but the sound of spaceships taking off still echoed through the empty street.

There was nothing special about the building in front of him. It was an old shack, infested with termites and carpenter ants. Standing at ten feet tall, with sharp pipes poking out, the building resembled a broken clock. Moss clung to the structure’s windows like tapestry, cracks invaded its brick exterior, and vines ran up its walls. Most buildings made before the new era had been torn down, but there were many deserted cities that still inhabited North America.

A woman opened the front door with a crooked smile. She had a gold tooth and one of her eyes were strikingly grey. She leaned on her cane, her short puffy hair wrapped in a sarong.

“Christian.” Her voice was croaky, old age finally getting the best of her. “You made it.”

He nodded his head at the witch, balled up his fists and walked towards the shack. His fate was now in her hands.