Veins Of Velvet: A Vampire's Affair

6

The townsfolk of Gateville didn't smile much.

They didn't frown, either. Mostly they stared with the polite, tight-lipped unease of people who had long ago stopped expecting good things. The woman who ran the grocer's stand didn't greet me when I entered. She simply nodded once, as though acknowledging that I had dared to survive another day in the house on the hill.

The bell above the door gave a hollow little jingle as it closed behind me.

The air inside smelled like dried herbs, wax paper, and something faintly metallic. I clutched my basket and moved through the narrow aisles, selecting potatoes with small bruises and bread that looked like it regretted existing. A man nearby was arguing softly with the butcher over the price of smoked eel. I did my best to blend in. To appear normal.

But I didn't belong here.

Not in Gateville. Not in this century. And certainly not in this store.

I was examining a jar of pickled onions when I felt it.

A presence.

You can always tell when someone's watching you-no matter how subtle they try to be. The air shifts. Your skin tightens. A small part of your brain whispers, You are being seen.

I turned slowly.

Two figures stood at the far end of the store near the tea shelf, watching me in perfect silence.

They were pale.

Not the delicate kind of pale from staying indoors too long-cold pale, like stone in a crypt. Both had long white hair, though theirs was finer, sleeker than Kaetlith's. Their clothing was old-fashioned, but impeccably tailored-high collars, velvet cuffs, gloved hands. They weren't trying to blend in.

The man had piercing blue eyes, the color so bright it seemed unnatural. His stare was flat, assessing.

The woman's were worse.

Purple.

Not lavender. Not violet.

Purple.

Rich and unnatural, like ink spilled across bone.

She smiled when I looked at her.

Not warmly.

Just enough to say we know.

I quickly turned away and pretended to be very, very interested in the vinegar shelf.

My heart was racing.

They looked like Kaetlith. Not exactly-but the resemblance was there. Something in the angle of the cheekbones, the tilt of their heads, the way they stood like the room belonged to them even though it clearly didn't.

Were they related?

Had he sent them?

No. They weren't approaching. They didn't even move. They just stood there, watching me shop like I was part of a play they didn't like but refused to leave.

I moved to the far end of the store. Grabbed salt. Tea. Dried fruit.

They followed.

Not physically. But their eyes did. Like they knew every item I picked up before I touched it. Like they had seen me before I'd even entered the shop.

At the counter, the clerk rang me up in silence, glancing once toward the pale strangers and then very deliberately not looking at them again. He bagged my items with trembling hands.

"You new up at the Howard estate?" he asked quietly, almost as a warning.

"Yes," I murmured, eyes flicking back toward the tea aisle.

Empty.

They were gone.

No footsteps. No sound. No bell above the door. Just empty floor and the faint scent of something dry and ancient, like lavender dried in a mausoleum.

"Best get your things home quick, miss," the clerk said without meeting my eyes. "Fog's coming in early today."

I nodded, paid in coin, and stepped out into the street, basket clenched tightly in both hands.

But I didn't go straight home.

I stood under the awning of the shop and looked down the street, hoping to catch another glimpse. A shape. A shadow.

Nothing.

And yet, for the rest of the walk back to the estate, I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was behind me.

Not close.

Just far enough.

Watching.