A Vampire's Desire

Chapter One

Rose

It happened the way it always did. Only worse.

The cold touch, as though someone pressed the barrel of a gun to the nape of my neck.

Then the slithering sensation that crawled over my skin like a thousand ants.

Finally an urge to look behind me, a whispering voice in my thoughts begging me to turn my head.

I sat in the driver's seat of my car, parked in the bakery's lot, struggling to block out that whispering voice. My fingers wrung the wheel and my body went rigid. It's nothing, Rose. Only your paranoia.

Still, the need to look back overcame me. It was like an instinct, a sixth sense. At times, I was overcome with this bizarre feeling that someone was watching me, or that danger lurked nearby. Like a superhero, except I was anything but. Just a twenty-nine year old burglary detective who lived with her mother and tracked down folks with sticky fingers. No cape, no world saving, just petty criminals and pant suits.

Fine, I'll look. Most of the time, it was nothing. A person in a crowd that must have tickled my periphery. Such was the case that night, as I peered across the street to see a figure standing beneath a streetlight, presumably waiting for the bus. Though, he didn't look like the type for public transportation. A shimmering, midnight blue suit contoured his impressive frame, chestnut hair glistened with mousse, and as he gazed back at me, he plucked a golden pocket watch from his suit coat to review the time. An anachronistic touch, but it felt very much of a piece with his suave aesthetic. He smirked while returning the watch to its pocket and I blushed, turning back around to face the bakery.

Alright, I looked and I embarrassed myself, are you happy? I popped the door and strode into the bakery, passing one more furtive glance back at the man before entering the shop.

It was my mother's birthday, sixty-five years young — which was how she would say it once I returned home with a cake to remind her of the date. She was a kind, unassuming woman whose only desire in life was that her sole daughter would lead a happy existence.

It was exhausting hiding the fact that my existence was anything but happy.

But I loved her, she was a saint, and as such, she deserved a little celebration.

"How can I help you?" asked the baker, though his eyes were on the television screen mounted to the wall.

A news program was playing a segment covering a string of curious thefts in New Orleans. "Authorities have yet to determine a motive in this strange rash of burglaries targeting blood donation clinics around the city," explained the reporter. Funny, I thought. No one's asked me.

"Crazy, right?" said the baker.

I nodded. "It's actually my case."

He finally looked down from the TV. "Your case? You're the detective?"

I nodded. "Never a dull moment as a New Orleans detective," I replied with a sigh.

"No kidding! What do you reckon is the motive?"

"Sanguivorian fetish," I replied.

"What now?"

I sighed. "Somebody who's really into vampire roleplay."

He nodded, then grimaced, and finally shook his head. "I don't understand people these days. All their weird ideas."

I wore a tight-lipped smile and nodded, hoping he wouldn't begin listing all the things he found "weird." No doubt a laundry list of reactionary opinions, which was not uncommon to the area. New Orleans was an urban center, but it was still Louisiana.