TO LIE WITH MIDNIGHT ROSES

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Renessa
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"More vinyl? I see that is all you listen to," I say as we stand in the library, the same spot we were dancing not too long ago. "How very old school of you." I tease.

"Ah, but isn't that the best?" He asks, a sly smirk crossing his face as he folds his tattooed arms across his chest, his white t-shirt tight against his skin as he leans against the shelves. He wore a lighter pair of jeans today, cuffed at the ankles and white vans.

I make my way over towards the rows of books lined along thick wooden shelves across from him; books I could only assume they collected over the years. Books I drunkenly skimmed through the other night, laughing together as we made up the stories.

"You seemed to like old school the other night." He chuckles as I trace my finger along the spines and tilt my head over my shoulder slightly, giving him a small glance.

"I guess you're right, I've always been into vintage." I smile, "Older things tend to be better most of the time anyway... As long as everything works properly." I giggled thinking back to our conversation the other day as we walked through the woods, "I still function in most ways regular humans do, as long as I feed."

Plucking a book off the shelf I blow the dust off the cover as I open it.

"Music is the only thing that keeps me sane, being able to collect records and have a tangible copy of it is just a nice way for me to keep track of all the years I've spent listening to it and playing it." He says.

"Well, reading has always been my way of  keeping my head screwed on straight, I guess you could say." I sigh, skimming the pages of the old book. One I hadn't yet looked through,  "It has always helped me escape reality when I needed it most...a form of escapism, I suppose? I mean it's not necessarily a healthy coping mechanism, but it's one I enjoy very much."

"That's what music has been for me, all these years spent running— hiding away, living in one place only to move to another the next month or year or decade after." He slumps his shoulders forward slightly, a small frown forming. He shakes his head and runs his fingers through his hair, pushing it back as he sighs.

"It must've been hard." I reply, "Trying to find a place that was safe, that felt like home."

"Nowhere has felt quite like home since the day I was killed. Even when we finally ended up here," He looks around scanning the room, "This isn't home but it is as close as it gets."

A lump forms in my throat at the thought of Ryker's death as I see him standing before me, the thought of all of these people having been killed to become what they are now has never really crossed my mind until today  —  until Rayya. Her story is still reeling in the back of my mind like a vivid nightmare. I could only hope Ryker's wasn't nearly as bad.

"I'm sorry, Ryker."

Closing the book, I hold it in my hands as I walk towards him now, trying to meet his eyes.

"I hadn't thought of it that way. I didn't realize the reality of how you became..." I trail off, not quite sure what I wanted to say. "Rayya told me her story today and before now I forgot. I forgot you had to die to become..."

He looks up. His dark green eyes burned into mine, hills of forest green sparkling beneath the soft yellow glow of the room like a setting sun.

"A monster? A bloodsucker?" He snarls. "Is that what you were going to say, Renessa?"

I'm taken aback by his sudden change of mood and quickly want to deescalate whatever anger was rising within him. I could see his fangs as his face scrunched up, the air suddenly shifting in the room. Thickening, making it harder to breathe. I forgot just how quickly their moods could change, like a flick of a switch, a push of a button; suddenly   — tempestuous.