Short Stack

A Taste of Home

"This is going to be amazing," Rafael said as his neck spines itched with anticipation. "It took months to get a reservation."

Isabella bared her fangs in a grimace. "I have no idea why. Humans know nothing about good food."

The other chupacabras in the neighborhood certainly didn't agree. Their scales shined like emeralds as they lounged under the patio's umbrellas with Bloody Maries in hand.

This was a far cry from their old hunting grounds in Mexico. Rafael missed the way the moon had caressed his scales as he and Isabella hunted goats with the rest of their pack. Still, Texas had its fair share of conveniences. Here in San Antonio, chupacabras didn't have to worry about earning a bullet in the brain just for eating dinner.

With a prime spot on the riverwalk, the Crimson Goat was the perfect place to watch boat tours cruising by while dining on San Antonio's finest sanguine cuisine.

Dull crimson lighting welcomed them into the restaurant's interior. The chupacabras removed their sunglasses with sighs of relief, blinking their wide-pupiled eyes in the soothing darkness. Rafael tried his best to adjust to humanity's quirks, but even he had to admit the glaring brightness they normally filled their buildings with burned in ways that the stars' soft glow never did.

After confirming their reservation, the hostess led them to a table in a quieter corner of the restaurant, away from the noisy slurping of the other diners. She barely glanced at Rafael as he forced his legs under the table with a wince. "Your waiter will be with you shortly. In the meantime, please enjoy your complimentary mice."

Isabella curled her lip at the cage full of rodents as the hostess scampered away. "What do they think we are, bats? Even a hatchling wouldn't waste their time with these pathetic pests."

"Humans don't like to eat their whole meal at once, remember?" Rafael plucked one of the mice out of the cage, careful not to pierce the squirming morsel with his claws so as not to waste any of its precious blood. He sank a fang into its hammering heart and drank, humming with pleasure as a warm, iron taste tinted with the faintest hint of wildflowers rushed over his tongue. "This isn't half bad, actually. It might be nice to taste a little bit of everything."

"Oh yes, how could I forget? Tonight we get to try a variety of what only humans would ever think we would enjoy." The spines along Isabella's neck rose as she read the menu. "The blood sausage is an absolute atrocity. Who in their right mind thought it was a good idea to completely ruin the texture? And the ticks! Truly we deserve better than parasites scraped off of prey."

Rafael busied himself with emptying the rest of the cage. He even tried crunching on one of the mice after he'd drained its body. His teeth pulverized the tiny bones much like how his sister was crushing any hope of this being a pleasant evening.

Isabella hadn't always been such a pessimist. Back in Mexico, she'd led the pack in its hunting song as they'd cornered herds of goats. She'd always been the first to kill and the last to feed, hanging back until everyone else had drunk their fill even as her spines had sagged and her scales had dulled to gray.

The others had gradually adapted their ways until, while still not entirely comfortable around the bare-skinned creatures, they could at least enjoy a sense of normalcy and peace living among humans. But not Isabella. No, she still hunted for pleasure, lurking through alleyways in search of some lost pet to feed on even after culling coyotes with the others and exchanging their pelts for the green paper that the humans loved so much.

It pained him to see her getting left behind. There had been some good to the old ways, but the world was changing.

He was changing.