The Vampire's Rival

When she admits her feelings for you

The Bachata.

One of the most sensual dances I knew of.

Memories crashed through my mind as Trisca swept me onto the dancefloor.

It was the early eighties and I had spent the better part of a century under the accursed hand of Sleritu, a vampire I wished I'd never met. She'd nurtured my Venom, encouraged everything about it. Pushed a part of me to the fore that I did not wish to embody again. I met Trisca only a few months after leaving Sleritu. I had been weaning myself off the influence of the Venom, fighting every rage-filled urge, kind of like what I was currently doing after establishing the incomplete link with Hadley.

This one night, right as it was turning to dawn, I'd taken refuge from the sun in the boiler room of an old building. A janitor woke me up hours later, after sunset. I almost killed him. I had killed everyone I'd fed from since leaving Sleritu, despite how hard I tried to control myself. But this time, the janitor lived. Barely, but he was alive and, with some rest, would wake up in a few hours. He'd be severely anaemic, but alive. I was ecstatic and on quite the high, ready to take on another night of adventure and freedom from Sleritu's command and influence.

Walking out of the boiler room, I discovered that the building was some kind of community centre, and that they had an event going on that night. I quickly deduced that it was a dance class. Latin ballroom dancing. The Bachata was tonight's lesson and as I was leaving, while everyone in the class was pairing up, I saw her. Trisca. She was standing in the corner. Her eyes were on me. Blue eyes, but not really blue. Contact lenses. And they were clearly irritating her eyes. Instinctively, I pushed into her mind.

And hit a wall.

One that only a vampire could have created.

"I don't have a partner." She said, walking up to me with a smile. She offered a hand. "I'm Trisca. I haven't seen you in the classes before."

She was wearing loose high waist blue jeans that reached above her ankles, high top chucks, rainbow socks visible between the jeans and high tops, and a colourful oversized striped sweater that was cropped to her waist. Her blonde hair was swept to her right, falling past her clavicle.

"I can't dance." I replied, slipping my hands into my pockets.

She laughed. "Neither can many of the people here. That's why we're in a dance class."

Fair point.

"So?" Trisca asked.

"So... what?"

"I need a partner," she said, still holding out her hand. "Are you in?"

I stared at her hand for a moment too long, wondering if I was ready for whatever this choice would lead to after decades of burying myself in Venom. Taking a deep breath, I slowly pulled my hand out of my pocket and accepted hers.

That was the beginning of our five-decades-long dance.

It was not nearly as bad as being with Sleritu, but in the end, it was still a mistake.

The song came to an end.

The dance was done.

Trisca dipped me, landing a decorous kiss on my lips. That wasn't like her. Usually, she liked giving a show. And from the crowd surrounding us, we were miles deep into giving quite the show. She usually would have gone all the way, punctuating the kiss with a telepathic wave of suggestion and utmost seduction that would sweep through the room and draw everyone to us, begging us to let them do anything for and to us all night long. That was classic Trisca. Always had been.

But not tonight.

Strange.

"You okay?" she whispered, gazing into my eyes like I hadn't seen her do in a lifetime.