Beatrice, an eternal thirty, sat pouring over several newspapers in various languages. In one hand her fingers lazily held up a wine glass of blood, and the other draws her pale, pointed finger down the columns of endless text. She is drawn out of the world’s current events by a knock at the door. It echoes through the house off of the fine hardwood and priceless art.
“Who is it, Marius?” her voice rang over the tick of the grandfather clock.
Marius, the eldest vampire with the visage of a Roman conqueror, stepped from his study and accepted the delivery upon the doorstep.
The way Marius moved with most inhuman. He was beside her in a moment, as if he had floated there, despite her knowledge he had taken every step.
“Who is it from?” she returned, setting her glass upon the forgotten papers.
Marius passes down a blood red envelope, adorned with a silver ribbon. Embolden in the left corner reads: DIETRICH. Beatrice’s interest is peaked and she accepts her letter, “Dietrich, what is the self-proclaimed ‘Vampire King’ up to?”
“No doubt causing a stir.” Marius returned. He disappeared back into his study, although Beatrice was quick enough to catch a glimpse of an identical envelope in his long, lanky fingers. With impeccable ease, Beatrice opens her envelope and slides the parchment out from within.
Rosalind, twenty-six and studious, dedicatedly pours over her politics textbook beneath the light of a single desk lamp. By the cold state of her coffee and unkempt state of her hair it was clear she had not moved in hours. A knock sounds at her door. With great resolution she drags herself from her desk and to the door. When the door open she’s faced with Victor. He’s a dark, handsome, and sinister fantasy. Older than she yet impossible to pin an age, she is not surprised despite having not expected him. “You didn’t say you were coming by tonight…”
“I’ve never needed an invitation before…”
“No, but I’m kinda in the middle of cramming for my final…it’s the day after tomorrow and”-
Victor swept by her and into the room like he’d ignored every syllable, “Close the door.”
“Uhm, Victor I’m not really in the mood…”
“I’m not here for that,” he eyed the photos upon her cork board, his tongue running over the points of his teeth, “I’m not here for that.”
Rosalind was momentarily stunned. She wrapped her arms around herself and licked her lips, “Why else would you…do you come around, I mean…”
Rosalind was surprised now, mildly disappointed but her shoulders fell in relief, “Where are you going?”
“Cloudy and overcast, definitely your thing…”
“It should suit my needs.”
Rosalind begins to shift in the uncomfortable silence that ensued. Victor was studying her book, the papers upon her desk and spoke, his words thrown away yet their meaning was crushing, “It’s time to say goodbye, Rosalind.”
“Okay? It’s been…. Have fun in Washington,” she tried awkwardly. Rosalind heads for the door to signify his exit, to return to her study, but he blocks her path.
“You will do well in Seattle,” Victor reaches out his thick fingers to brush her long, unkempt brunette locks over her shoulder. Rosalind tenses, danger electric between them, “I think you should go,” she whispered. She reached up to brush his hand away from her hair.
“You should have seen this coming! From the moment we met I knew you would be perfect…”
Rosalind took a quick step back, her face draining white, “Please leave Victor, Now!” She reaches for her cell phone laying just out of reach.
“Try not to scream, it will only make it worse.” In a move too quick for a human, Victor overtook Rosalind, one hand bracing her neck while the other holds her hand down at her side. Fangs extended from his canines and he leans in, bearing down on her neck.
And Rosalind screamed.