Blood Swear

Her bright pink lips curved upward in a menacing closed-mouth smile. She stared at the tall, lanky man before her. He nervously pushed his thin black-rimmed glasses up his nose and began ringing his hands.

"So what you're saying," she inquired, considering his proposition, "is that in return for my help, you will feed me?"

"Y-yes," he stuttered.

She studied him. His dirty blonde hair stuck up everywhere, his blue eyes were flooded with fear, and his lips were pressed tightly together, making them look thinner than they were. He was smart enough that he wouldn't need her help, but he was also weak and vulnerable. He definitely needed her help.

"Tell me again what exactly you want," she said, gracefully sitting herself on a stone bench while looking at him expectantly.

He shook a little more violently then before as he took a step closer to her. She could smell the fear traveling through his veins. Her top lip curled over her top row of teeth as she watched him. He didn't say a single word. He only looked at her, wondering how he'd had the courage to ask her for this the first time, and how he'd gain it again to repeat it.

She took a deep breath. He froze, unsure of her next move. She picked up her left hand and brought it to the hem of her knee-length white skirt. He let out a breath and began to shake again.

"Tell me again what exactly you want," she repeated.

"I-I-I want to become a-a writer—I mean, an author, but none of the agents. None of them like my books, so I w-want you to help me get them published."

"And in return you promise to feed me for the entire duration?"

"Yes! As long as it takes!"

She closed her mouth again and smiled eerily. She stood slowly. "Come. I want you to swear."

"I swear!" he said quickly.

She chuckled. "That is not what I meant. Come."

He looked around cautiously. He was standing in a graveyard. Something about that fact gave him a little more courage. He took a gamble. "What kind of swear?"

"A blood swear," she said.

He gulped. "A b-blood swear?"

"Yes," she smiled, showing her top row of teeth. The long, pointed fangs where her normal canines should be became painfully obvious. "A blood swear. Don't worry about it."

"But-but…" he looked scared.

"We can do it here or we can do it there," she said pointing deeper into the graveyard. "If we do it here, you could die."

"What!" he took a step backwards, eyes like a deer's when caught in headlights.

"I won't hurt you," she said. "Not as long as you promise to feed me, but where there's one vampire, there are others. For now the others around here accept you as mine, but if your veins are opened and I do not drink the blood they will be sure to take care of it for me. So it's your choice. Here where they may get you, or there where they will never go."

"There!" he exclaimed. "Let's go there!"

She chuckled and nodded. "Then come. Stand next to me. Do not stand behind me."

He hurriedly joined her. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist and wove him though headstones until they reached a marble headstone that was bigger than the rest. The name read: Minister Christopher D. Simes.

He looked around. This part of the graveyard was eerily quiet. There were only a few trees, none of which blocked the moon's glow. He looked at her, and because he could see her clearly, he became less frightened.