Teeth

Red Blood Drinker

"You don't go after children... do you?" I ask, wary of the answer, but there's just something about her tone speaking about the Dearg Due.

"No, but I'll let you figure out the rest." She retorts, amused, as load bags in the back and get back inside the car.

"You're picking again, Kent." Carolyn pointed out, as she fastens her seatbelt. "Stop it."

"I'm no... " I start to protest, then shut up, and stop picking at the pink scar on my stomach. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." She sighs, and after a pause grudgingly adds "I probably would too if that happened to me."

It's hard to believe it only happened yesterday. I kind of don't want to believe it. It's easier to pretend it happened at some long disconnected time and place, there's just such a sharp disconnect between then and now, that little mark that I can't even feel through my shirt has already become somewhat of a touchstone. A reminder that this is happening, and that I'm still caught in the current of it all, and that's why Carolyn keeps catching me 'picking'.

I know the district we drive to, it's not actually too far from the place I was supposed to go. Another block or so maybe. I vaguely track the streets and street lights, the restaurants open and closed and a handful of other shops. The Dearg Due is next to a tobacco shop, and a few people loiter outside, examining their purchases or looking longingly between the bar and the tobacco shop, as though they can soothe their vices purely by an intense stare and deep longing.

The fervency of their stares makes me think of the hungry eyes of the men Lily killed, and I look away. Lily and Carolyn don't seem to notice, but that's not so strange I suppose. Compared to some of what I get the feeling they've seen... and done, I must seem ridiculously fragile for being shaken up.

But I'm being introspective again, instead of pulling my head out and asking questions. Normally when I think of a 'vampire club' I think of goth culture, but the Dearg is transparently as Irish as it's namesake. When we step inside, and I'm pleased to get away from the longing stares outside, it's to a band I am pretty sure must be Flogging Molly, but then I'm not sure I have ears good enough to tell the difference between Flogging Molly and any other heavily brogued rock-ballad. It's damn fun to listen to but I'm pretty much tone deaf on the issue. The decor looks like it was lifted from the collective unconscious of people imagining what the perfect Irish Pub would be. The heavy plastered walls are yellowed with either varnish or age, and painted with fantastic creatures and figures that might be saints with 'Book of Kells' level detailing that almost seems wasted in a bar. Then again, they might get an extra level of amazing when you have a few beers in you I guess. Is that risky in a bar that has the kind of visitor Lily implied, or are they the norm at all? Then again, the place is literally named 'Red Blood Drinker'.  That's a little spot on to make me believe it's a coincidence and not playing on the fact most people just won't know what it means.

The tables are scattered and made of heavy dark wood that looks nigh on immovable, and the chairs as well. There's even an inlay fireplace which is clearly gas, but someone paid good money for very convincing fake logs. There's even a few booths toward the back. It's not jumping busy, but there are people here... or... what I assume are more or less people. They're a strange mix, from a blond man in the back wearing a dirty looking stetson and boots propped on the table that look like they might have actually seen more trail than display time. A small gathering elegant looking goths, sipping what might or might not be wine, Two people in business suits who discuss something quietly and intensely while gesturing at the computer tablet between them, a young girl at the bar counter with short, bright pink hair, sipping a margarita, and others besides. Some of them glance up as we enter, one or two smile at Lily and Carolyn, and me... I feel something like an appetizer. I don't actually catch anyone staring directly at me, but I can feel eyes running over me in a stare so intense that it makes me feel as though being actually groped would be less of an invasion of my personal space.   Though in spite of this optical invasion, no one actually approaches us as I follow Lily and Carolyn over to the bar and the smiling Bartender.

She's wearing a black vest and white shirt, and her smile is brighter than the lighting. Past that, she looks like she was thematically made for the bar, with honey blond hair braided neatly down her back, blue eyes, and perfectly made up red lips.

"Lily, Carolyn." She greets them with familiarity. "Always nice to see you, and I especially like it when you drum up some extra business for me." Her lips close over her teeth as she smiles at me, before I can decide if any of them look sharp.

 The damn myth was about a blond woman too wasn't it?

 Hell.

And I can safely assume I'm the source of the extra business, right down to the snug t-shirt and uncomfortable stares. Lily made reference to it basically being a bit like dating but at the moment I feel more like a roast at the meat counter with my personal fat content well labeled, and I'm right back to being uncomfortable. It was implied I could take my chances, and damnit, I just might... but I don't know who else is going to turn around and try and kill me.

  I return her smile with a thin lipped smile of my own, and stuff my hands in the pockets of my coat as an excuse to wrap it around me a little more. There's no good reason for me to actually button it, so it's all the shield I've got, and I can still feel eyes wandering over me.

 "Thanks for having us on such short notice." Lily beams, putting her hand gently on the delicate blond woman's shoulder. If she knows what Lily is capable of, she doesn't flinch, but I almost have to shut my eyes as the dim light on her deep red shirt reminds me of blood in a street light. I don't want this.

 No that's not... I don't know. I want to keep being alive. But I don't want the parts of this where I wonder if I'm ever going to hear rain the same way, or see red silk in a dark bar. I'd tell myself it will get better, but I don't know if it will. I don't know if this ridiculous bar venture is even going to keep me alive that long, not thinking about the speed at which Bill arrived, armed and blank faced. And now I have... vampire speed dating. Or I assume it's speed dating. It feels like a rapid hand off to whoever wants to take me on.

 " -o problem." The little blond woman continued, and I miss part of it, my own fault, though at least not much. "Not everyday we get to host a nice little shindig like this... and this is really Madchen's kid?"

 "Why does that continue to sound like I'm a live grenade?" I protest.

 "Because my sweet boy you kind of are. But trust Lily not to tell you much. Sweetness honestly, if I didn't know you better I'd swear you arranged this entire thing, but you didn't did you?"

 I shoot Lily a look as the little woman pats my cheek softly with a slightly cool hand, making me reflexively jump again.

 "As much as I appreciate the theater of it, of course not. But what am I supposed to do? The boy keeps falling into our arms. Must be fate. But not my fate."

 Her lips thinned slightly and she looked back the way we'd come in, watching the door, and just as quickly, she's doing that distant, death goddess almost-smile. "So let's have drinks, and see where we end up."