Bloodlines

Chapter 2: A Few Weeks Before

Chapter 2: A Few Weeks Before

The sun began to set as the lights of a retro café went up. A large sign went up in a bulging neon red color. The red echoed its rays onto a bright street filled with Bon Jovi songs and record stores. Old Chevy's drove by with drivers shouting songs by Michael Jackson and Prince. Movie theaters began to gleam with lights and showing of movies such as Poltergeist. The street lights began to dance to the music of those who played it on their radios.

People walked throughout the vibrant colored streets. Women passed with brightly colored leggings and dark colored t-shirts. Women walked by with large curly hair and aromas of hairspray. It smelled like a department store every time they walked by. Walking by them, there were lots of beautiful women. Almost as beautiful as me. That's what every guy would say. Some of the girls wore lots of vibrant eyeshadow and crazy makeup that it made them look flushed out. They were the clowns of this decade.

1989— the last year of the amazing decade. The fifties may have been a blast, especially with Presley, but times have changed. God knows what the nineties would bring. Hopefully it brings men with good taste of clothing. The women of our decade had pretty good taste but horrid color matching.

I walked in my bright red high-heeled boots, with my black leg-warmers, and my orange vest. I unbuttoned it, not ashamed for what I was. All the girls stared at me like I was insane, but who would stop them. I had my bag in my hand and my daylight necklace on my neck. My flaming red hair was half up and curly, flowing in the non-existent wind. Men had no problem staring at me, mostly because I made them. My emerald eyes looked at them and they would bow down to me. Fools.

I walked passed my favorite record store and into a café. The neon sign didn't bother me anymore; it was just merely a sign of electricity through my brain. I peeked inside and saw an old flame of mine. I don't remember her name well, so I called her Madonna. Madonna ran this café and knew exactly who and what came in her café. I met her decades ago, and she still hadn't aged one bit. I opened the door and tapped on her shoulder.

"Where is he?" I asked her.

"He's the third table towards the bar," she told me. She turned around and pointed at a brunette man sitting on a table, reading the margarita menu.

"That's the almost werewolf huh?" I asked her.

"Co—"

"Don't be obtrusive now!" I scolded at her. I always preferred finding his name myself. I've done it for years. "Whoever he is, he won't be a hibernated wolf for long." I glared at her and watched her shiver. She knew I meant business. I gave her a gift for a reason, I can always take it away with one stake.

"Why do you want to become one so badly?" Madonna asked me.

"I'm tired of running, Madonna," I said. "If I turn the human into a wolf, then maybe I can get Felix to help me out." I walked away from her, but I felt her pull me back. Annoyed, I glared at her.

"Be careful Anna," Madonna warned. "Your old flame just walked in and is sitting at the bar. The grey-eyed one."

I nodded at her and looked at the bar. I saw who she was talking about; it was the bloodaholic. He meant nothing at this point. He was just an old flame from the colonial times. He knew better than to mess with me for I was the one who turned him, and gave him special gift to be specific. I'm the reason why he can walk in the daylight and not many others can.

I walked away from Madonna and walked towards the werewolf at the table. I walked over and watched him smile. I pulled out my chair and took a seat across the table. The werewolf was not the best looking. He had brown shagged hair with bright blue eyes. He was wearing large, circular glasses that covered majority of his eyes. He was frail, not even a peck of muscle anywhere. He seemed to be about six foot five. He wore a blue jacket and a grey t-shirt with skinny jeans. He was the most atrocious thing I've ever seen. I've slept with demons hotter than him.