Page 2 of Those That Are Lost
“It's going to be a long night,” Sophia calls over to me as I reach the bar, placing the tray on the ancient oak surface. She’s the other barmaid on duty tonight, both of us working alongside the owners, a sweet older couple who are currently both manning the kitchen, providing simple but hearty food to the celebrating patrons. I wait for Sophia to finish pouring the pint in her hands then she comes over to take the tray. “Let me empty this and you can do another collection straight away, we can’t keep up with this lot tonight,” she jokes, pushing her blonde curls back and taking the tray off my hands.
“Indeed, but the tips are flowing in.” I smile at her as I pull the wad of small notes I’ve been handed from the pocket in my skirt. Jumping up to lean over the bartop I push them into our communal jar sitting under the taps. Sophia’s eyes light up at the cash before she turns to hand the tray through the pass to Erikson who can load them into the dishwasher.
As I jump back down my back comes into contact with something warm and hard. I spin at the sudden contact of another body.
“Sorry Red, I didn’t see you there.” The words obliterate every thought from my brain.
“What did you say?” I manage to gasp, my hand flying to my chest where my lungs are seizing to the point of complete shutdown.
“Sorry Pet, I didn’t mean to knock ya. Are ya okay?” the older gentleman in front of me repeats. He’s clearly one of the farm owners, well dressed but with calloused hands that I feel as he places them on my bare arms to steady me.
I hope he doesn’t register the pain in my eyes as I quickly recover my mask.
“Yeah, I’m good. You made me jump,” I say, offering him a laugh and batting my eyelashes like I’ve had no more than a regular shock.
He nods and moves off into the crowd.
I turn back to the bar, grabbing the wood tight with both hands, as the world around me drops behind a veil. Deep blue eyes and bouncing dark curls flash before me. Warm cinnamon and heated skin drowns my senses, swirling shadows fill my vision. My breaths come in ragged pants as I hear his voice.
“You’re mine Red.”
“Let me give you this.”
“Run.”
I shake my head, by sheer force of will, to bring myself back into the present. The noise of the bar slowly seeps back in as I blink back the tears that threaten to fall. Releasing my grip on the wooden surface, grateful I hadn’t left any dent marks from my supernatural strength, I straighten in time for Sophia to turn back around and pass the empty tray back to me.
“You alright?” she asks, giving me a quizzical look, concern filling her lined green eyes.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I answer but my voice shakes a little. Clearing my throat I add, “Maybe I’m a little dehydrated. It's hot in here tonight.” I fan myself to make the lie convincing.The movement also distracts me from the searing pain lancing through my chest.
“Do this round and then go take your break, we’ve not stopped yet tonight,” she instructs me, already back to mixing drinks for the next order. I nod, putting the smile back onto my face, as I head back out into the crowd.
I liftmy mouth from the neck of the young farm hand. A couple of hours have passed and the celebrations inside are still in full swing. I had caught the gaze and shyly smiled a few times at this human—I don’t even know his name—and he’d willingly followed me into the alley. He’s around my age and has my favourite blood type, I couldn’t resist. Especially after the memories, that I kept locked tight, managed to get out tonight, I needed to feed.
I swallow the last drop of his blood that I will take, relishing in the high it sends coursing through my veins. I run a hand over his cock, his erection still firmly inside his jeans. I can sense his pleasure heighten as he comes merely from my touch, the bite I’ve given him heightening his pleasure.
I press a kiss to his neck, ensuring the wound has already sealed, then touch my lips to his in the barest of kisses.
“Thanks for the ride, sugar,” I drool at him, giving a tight-lipped smile so he doesn’t see my fangs, before turning back towards the bar’s staff entrance. Between the level of alcohol I found in his blood and my now practised technique, he’ll remember nothing, or assume we had a quickie that ended in him firing way too soon.
I wish I had the luxury of not remembering.
It makes my skin feel grimy, luring men down dark alleys under a sexual pretence. Getting them off so they don’t remember the real truth makes me feel akin to a predator. ButI guess that’s exactly what I am. I’m stealing their blood with no consent.Is it morally wrong if I need it to survive?I don’t care anymore, and I never found out how to steal blood packets or how that whole system works, so this is my only option.
As I head down the corridor back to the bar to finish my shift, I stop in the loos to check my makeup isn’t too smeared. Standing in front of the mirrors in the dimly lit room I immediately catch the spark in my eyes. They’re bright from the drink I just had but also because I’d left them my natural colour this time. The green really pops against my rich darker skin and long black curls. I’d braided my hair over one shoulder today but some of the shorter tendrils have escaped to frame my face.
The blue stud in my nose also catches in the sconces, it’s the only other part of me that’s real.
I’ve never been more grateful for my power of being able to glamour. It has no doubt helped me to stay untrackable, untraceable. I’m using my magic more than ever before, altering my skin tone, my height, giving myself tattoos and a variety of haircuts and colours. It's a constant drain, however, meaning I need to feed often. It’s a level I didn’t know I could reach until I was crossing on the boat from Froan and desperately needed to change my appearance fully.
However, it's a blessing and a curse. Having a physical mask as well as my emotional one is fraying my nerves. Some days I struggle to remember what I’m supposed to look like. Hence, I allowed myself my natural eyes this time. It's why I got the piercing too, it’s a constant I keep, something to remember that I still exist. Buried deep, and living in constant fear, but I am still here. Aurora Capenor isn’t dead. Red isn’t dead. She got out.
Fuck. I’m really struggling tonight.
I take in the deepest breath that I have all evening, lettingit out slowly. I roll my shoulders back and quickly wash my hands before heading back out into the throng to finish my shift. I can go into a full-on meltdown later when I’m alone once more.
Happy Birthday to me.
