"Finally!" I say with more than just a little relief as I step out onto the front steps of my brownstone apartment. I hate being confined, cooped-up, tied-down; you name it, I can't stand it. I think I've always felt like that, but with what happened one year ago, to the day, the feeling had grown a lot stronger. The last rays of the sun had already bled from the sky and I could see the first night star. From a habit I've had since childhood, I closed my eyes for a moment and made a silent wish and wished for. . .
"Hey, sweetie," came a scratchy voice to my left, "Wanna ride?"
I smiled to myself before opening my eyes. What I saw was not quite what I had had in mind, but I quickly decided that he would do nicely. He was dressed in a well-worn pair of jeans and a matching jacket over a white tee with a faded Metalica emblem. Some shiny black boots completed his attire. His manner of dress, coupled with his long, wavy sandy blond hair and his slightly unkempt mustache and beard probably convinced a lot of people that he was some kind of bad-ass biker.
Dressed in my short leather skirt, knee-high boots, and a very open-necked shirt that shows off my beautiful boobs, there is little doubt in my mind as to what he's got going on in his tiny brain.
"Sounds cool," I said as I descended the steps with a provocative walk. "By the way, my name is Raven."
"Paolo," the guy grunted as he started up his bike.
As I threw my leg over the bike's seat, I flashed my boyfriend-of-the-moment a look at my crimson thong before I settled right up against him. I saw his eyebrows raise just enough to let me know that he was appreciative of the free shot I had given him and his slight smile confirmed it. I wrapped my arms snuggly around his waist and even let my hands come to rest just touching the top of his package. My date's stomach, while a bit soft, was still firm and I could already feel his
growing
excitement about events that would shortly be taking place. Gunning the throttle, we tore off into the night.
There were many things about
Paolo
(which was most definitely
not
his real name) that reeked of another kind of life than the one he was trying so desperately to portray. For starters, his key ring had what looked to be some kind of family portrait on it. Second, his bike was just
too
flashy; most
real
bikers I've ever met try to go somewhat low-key. Besides, most of them simply can not afford to buy a last year's model of an Indian motorcycle. I took a good glance at the odometer. Yep, just as I figured; only twelve hundred and seventy-three miles on it. His ride was not even ready for its first oil change. He probably only got to take it out for short rides after work or on the weekends when he could get out by himself for a while. Third, and most noticeably, Paolo was wearing an obviously cheap brand of cologne, a lot like what a young kid would pick out for a Christmas or birthday present.
Poor Paolo.
"Head toward the old factories," I practically yelled in his ear as his bike rumbled and raced down the street. He just lifted his chin a bit to acknowledge he had heard me just before he hung a tight left turn to get us headed in that direction. My lip curled up in a small sneer as we zoomed along. At least I would not be late for the party. While Paolo may have had some carnal plans for me, which I would more than likely enjoy, the ones I had for him were more of a practical nature. As we sped along, I allowed my mind to recall the circumstances that had led me up to this point.
It seemed appropriate that we chose All Hallows' Eve, and an old cemetery, to try and casting the spell Iris had found in one of her mom's spell books. Because Iris' mother is a true witch, by blood and over forty-nine generations, we all decided that Iris should be the one leading the rites. Luna, Drake, and I gathered around her and played our practiced parts even better than we had ever rehearsed, surprising ourselves. Upon completion of the spell, the ceremonial fire we had been chanting and dancing around suddenly glowed black. Before any of us even knew what was happening, four balls of that black fire exploded from their source and hit each one of us, knocking us to the ground.
By the time we regained our senses, dawn was just about to breach the horizon. It was instinct that took over and we ran away from the light, seeking refuge from its dreadful touch. Drake urgently called us over to a mausoleum whose door he had somehow managed to force open, allowing us sanctuary.
As we all sat looking at each other, a realization came to us: the spell had worked!
And it had done so at a terrible price for us.
We were immortal.
But to continue to enjoy the benefits of our unnatural longevity, we had to consume the blood of living creatures. Whether we emptied their bodies or just took enough for our own needs was of no consequence. Only their blood mattered.
Iris, Luna, Drake and I had become vampires.
Over the course of the last year, we had discovered that we were not alone, not the only vampires in existence. There were perhaps about a thousand of us all across the world, though most lived in cities where the populations were high so their weekly feedings would not be so easily noticed. The four of us also learned that there were two more of our kind living in Salem but they had not yet undergone the "change". (Ultimately, it would be Iris and Luna who would be the impetus for their inclusion to our little clan, much to the surprise of all of us. But I'm getting off track.)
