“Oof!” I hit the ground hard as I flew through the air. Sitting up some, I rubbed my head, returning my now-dirty hat to its original position, and stood, dusting my disheveled self off in the process.
“W-we don’t allow d-demons o-on this train, sir!” The young trains-man stuttered as he shook with fear; his grip on my coffin threateningly close to dropping. “A-and take your r-rubbish with ye!” He threw it, hoping to hit me. As it came down, I grabbed the worn leather strap in mid-air and slung it over my shoulder in one swift and whimsical movement, flashing my fangs after the pathetic man as the train started to move on again, and soon, was gone from the tracks. I can’t believe he called me sir! I thought with anger, do I seriously look like a man to you?! I took a quick glance down at my chest with defeat.
“So, what are you going to do now? Ne, Miyuki?!” Kozu asked, his voice filled with irony. He scooted out of his nest and onto my hat, looking upside-down into my face, a smug smile on his furry little lips.
“Shut up,” I murmured, waving him off. “Or I’ll make some weasel stew out of you, beast!”
“You wouldn’t!” Kozu said, nestling on the front rim of my hat, blending in with the disarray of many feathers.
I scratched at the back of my neck as I looked around and took in my surroundings. Where the train had been, on the other side of the tracks, was the beautiful night sea, sparkling with the moonlight, weathered cliffs bordering it like a bowl. I spun around, only to see a rotten fenced in field of cows and sheep, an old abandoned barn in the far background. I raised an eyebrow. Couldn’t they have dumped me somewhere…I dun no, a little more city-like?! With clean streets and teahouses?! I’m sick of the countryside! An angry voice yelled in my mind.
“Humans are for the birds…” I mumbled under my breath as I began to make my decent down the dusty dirt road.
******
Florissant lights flickered spastically as the sign of the old “Tom Cat” roared with the life of the drunk, the unlucky, and the nameless.
There was a colorful assortment of people as a glass bottle flung threw the air and nearly smashed into the bartender’s forehead if she had not moved the slightest inch to the right, not taking her eyes from the tankard she had been polishing. People yelled and laughed, hollered and wept, not once did any of them even care to look up at the person who walked through the grime-rusted door next…that is, till they all got that same itch of something unnerving.
Slam! The door flung open and smashed against the already cracked wall, nearly shattering the glass windows.
The yelling and excitement stopped and all eyes were on the open doorway, in which a tall clocked figure sauntered in wearing more than you’re every day knife, the old floor boards creaking painfully under the figure’s heavy boots. Walking over to the counter, slumping into a seat, the figure took off the hood that concealed its face. There was not a soul in there that did not gasp when the hood fell to reveal a young man, around the age of sixteen, long shoulder-length black hair that fell slightly into his eyes, a pale narrow chinned face with very light pink-ish lips, and the strangest colored eyes they had ever seen. His left eye was a pale blue…and his right eye was a Florissant green; below it, the numbers 06 were branded into his cheekbone, staining it light red even though it looked like it had been healed for a long time.
The barmaid opened one eye to glare at the newcomer, closed it again, and continued to polish the dirty glass with a tattered old rag. “What’d‘ll ya have?”She asked, cigarette hanging from her mouth. He glanced at her with a puzzled look and then understanding flowed into his eyes, sending a small shudder up her back at the sight of his eyes, but the tough lady wouldn’t allow those flee-bitten drunks see it.
A slight smile slipped in place on his lips like spilled water as he seemed to look past her. “Let’s see,” He said, voice laced with a thick ancient accent, something that should have died out years ago…. “A blood wine will do perfectly, thank you.”
Mentally shaking out of her daze, the lady looked at him strangely. “Eh…Blood Wine, sir?”
He arched his eyebrow, “Yes.”
“We don’t carry that…” She looked at him with question of his sanity. Blood wine? She thought.
The strange younger boy sighed heavily, and looked up with a kid’s pout. “Fine then” – another heavy sigh – “I’ll have Rose Petal Sweet tea then. Eighteen sugars, please.” He smiled a slight lazy smile, slight irritation beginning to etch in his odd colored eyes.
The barmaid set down the glass and sighed, daringly looking into his handsome trance enticing eyes, chin set. “Listen, boy! We dun got none of that shit here! This is a bar! Not some sissy teahouse!”
Silence enveloped the whole room, everyone waiting on the stranger’s reply to the tough woman’s lecture.
After a while, he thought it over and nodded slightly. “My apologies, m’am. I did not mean to be so rude. I’ll have nothing then… well, no, that’ not true…” He trailed off, reaching within his long leather cloak to pull out a rolled piece of parchment, unraveling it to reveal a sketch of a young girl, and the words “Wanted” spelled out across the top.
“You see, I’m looking for this girl here.” A wicked smile spread across his handsome face.
******
Even when you are as old as I am, you still seemed to get annoyed at the looks humans give you. I pulled the rim of my hat lower over my eyes and I sauntered through the arch that was the entrance to the town. Vampires have been around longer than humans, and much longer than any other supernatural creature that has ever graced this world with their presence, but even so, the humans in the Realm of Shiia have never gotten used to us. Shiia is broken up into six main gates – The gate of Wings, Water, Embers, Grey, Mist, and the Gate of the Immortals. Each gate is a different land that is incredibly difficult to enter, only the witches, warlocks, and Time Imps are granted passage so easily. Ten years ago, I found myself dumped in the temple of the Gate of Grey, the door sealed before I could get back through and back to the gate that I was born into. Even worse, I have no memory of what happened after that time; only the memory of waking up in the temple with my familiar, my coffin, and my few belongings.
Plop.
Something wet dripped onto my nose. My eye twitched. “Oh, that is not rain,” I growled up into the dark sky. Humans scurried into houses and buildings as I was the last one standing on the grime and filth covered cobble stones. Kozu made a kind of squeal-hiss as he darted under my hat. The rain beat down harder and harder as I began my stroll into the misty town, the sharp click of my heals bouncing off the buildings, a razor blade slicing through the rain. The wind rustled the heavy cast iron pots and pans of a near-by vender, carelessly left out in the rain by the owner. Through the beating of the rain and the mist, I saw a hint of light ahead; I arched an eyebrow. As I drew closer, I came to stand in front of a large, bright neon sign that read: Tom Cat.
Even from the outside and through the rain, I could hear the roar of laughter and the smashing of glass – from the frosted windows I could see bobbing silhouettes of humans. With a worried glance at the commotion inside, I summoned up a fearless aura and walked in.
