Luna

Four

My head clearer, I turned to face the woman with wildness in her eyes and fear on her face and realised she wasn't in control.  Whatever was happening and whoever was pulling the strings, it definitely wasn't her.

I swore as she lunged at me with more precision than I'd expected and I stumbled out of the way.  The other women in the bathroom seemed oblivious to their friend's knife fight and continued squealing and chatting away about life, the hot guys in the club and their menial lives.

Menial lives that I longed to be living...

A look of pleading flashed through the blonde's eyes, but it was quickly replaced with whatever or whoever was controlling her.

Her form was far from perfect, but mine wasn't much better.  I knew I hunted sometimes.  On the rooftops late at night when a primal sense of longing - for blood - almost threaten to crush me.  I'd never fed; this I was sure of.  The thrill of the hunt was enough.  The idea of taking someone from this world that wasn't human as I wasn't - the idea that I could rid the world of another abomination was enough for me.  It's the only thing that keeps the blood lust away - the only thing that keeps me a breath away from being another monster.

And as long as I control even a single breath in my body, I will not drink blood from a human or creature.  

I yelped as the knife grazed my forearm and forced my aching head to concentrate on the blonde.  I didn't want to hurt her, but I sure as hell didn't want to meet my end in the bathroom of Six Feet.  

I dropped to the cold tiles as the small knife I realised was from the bar - I'd used it to cut lemons - sailed over my head and I rolled as the woman screeched and tried diving at me.

I jumped to my feet, sweat in my eyes and punched her as hard as I could in the face.

Nothing about the situation was classy or well choreographed, but this was about survival - hers and mine.

She fell to the tiles in a heap and I stood panting, ignoring the small cut on my arm that was bleeding more than I'd expected it to.  I stood stiffly and made a quick exit, grabbing a handful of paper towels as I went.

I was wary of more attacks as I walked back to the bar, but the pressure I'd felt in my head and the nausea was gone.  If it was the vampire who was looking for London Carmichael who had been controlling the woman, I had the distinct feeling he'd had his fun and was gone.

The music that had frustrated me earlier was strangely welcoming as I returned to the bar and did my best to hide the cut on my arm.  I threw the damp paper towels in the bin, snatched up a tea towel, wrapped it quickly around the wound and prayed it would heal fast before anyone noticed.

Dylan, one of the other bartenders gave me a questioning look but I shrugged and turned my attention to the customers waiting a little impatiently to be served.  They were at least four deep and I realised Dylan's look was more about why I'd left them when it was so busy than what had happened to me.

Dylan is mostly harmless.  He's tall, very thin and looks like he should be in a library more than a bar.  I've never gotten close to him and I'm totally fine with that; the less people I know the better off we all are.

The rest of the night went as smoothly as they ever do and as the sun was making its way over the horizon, I pulled on my jacket and headed out the door.

It was Autumn and the leaves were starting to fall from the big old trees onto the footpath as I walked.  I should have driven to the club, but my car is less than reliable and is more a pain in my ass than it's worth.  I bought it for a low price of ripped off when I first woke up and got my apartment and wondered what in the hell I was going to do.