anne

00 | PROLOGUE

The man entered the bar.

Dim, smokey but bustling with hype, the stench of Alcohol and sweat clung to the air, while a rock playlist blared from the radio in the corner. 

Tuning out the clinking glasses and chairs brushing on the floor, the man focused on the breathing of the woman he came to find. The woman he hadn't seen in a very, very long time.

His sight centred on her. Sitting on a barstool, swirling the contents of her drink with a cocktail umbrella. He didn't need to see her face to know who that wild mane of blonde hair belonged to, the same distinct style, the same heartbeat.

He felt a person brush past him, hearing them apologise on their way out but paying no attention to it. He took his hands out of his pockets and sat down at the nearest empty table in the cramped room. His eyes stayed fixed on the back of her head, observing her familiar behaviour with a sting of nostalgia.

Her head swayed gently to the music, and occasionally she'd take a sip of her drink, get a refill, drink some more, then put it down. He watched as she fiddled absentmindedly with the cocktail umbrella, until a waitress at suddenly at his table cleared her throat.

"Pardon, love?"

She followed where his eyes remained locked to and offered a smile, "She special to you? I could give her a drink from you if you like?"

"Double-oak bourbon, thanks."

"You got it!"

As the waitress weaved her way through the crowd, a large man in his early thirties stumbled into his table and slurred a cuss-riddled comment, sparking an idea in the silent man's brain. With one swift grip on the larger man's shoulders, he locked eye contact with him and muttered a specific set of commands to follow. He nodded, eyes glazed, and bee-lined for the seat beside the woman at the bar.

The man watched the woman at the bar turn her head slightly towards the guy seated beside her. His grin grew as the next minute or two played out precisely as he thought it would: the woman delicately brushed her golden curls behind her shoulder, exposing her milky neck and trailing her fingers to her chest, faking absentmindedness. Her nearby prey glanced with greed, so she dragged her eyes to meet his, blinking lazily, faking intoxication. Her act was that of a snake charmer, hypnotising a python with her eyes, her fingertips leisurely brushing her skin, manipulating the drunken fool to the point his mind numbed.

She broke the hypnosis and left her seat abruptly, sauntering to the nearest exit of the bar and rounding the corner with her hand on the doorframe, casting one last look at her meal before slinking into the silent shadows.

The drunk man at the bar rammed into several people in his pursuit of following the woman out of the bar—whom he convinced himself was flirting with him. He wasn't entirely wrong.

'She is going to enjoy him,' the man sitting at the table thought to himself. He stood and disappeared out the front door just as the waitress came back, announcing his drink with a voice that faded as she looked at his empty seat.

The door chimed shut behind him, his breath clouded in the cool air. Closing his eyes, he tuned his hearing into the direction of a loud thump, followed by a muffled scream. With a prideful pep in his step, he followed the sounds of struggled grunting and strolled towards a nearby alleyway.

His footsteps were—by nature—without a trace of a whisper, but his presence was felt.

"Well, hello there, Klaus."

Klaus gave the woman his charming smile, then nodded towards her meal, "I hope you're enjoying your little snack I gifted you."

She returned his grin sarcastically and dripping with blood. Her hand let go of the man's collar, his weight collapsing to the ground with a dense thump.

Brushing her hands on her jeans, she corrected him, "Enjoyed. Past tense. I'm done with him now. You can have him."

She stepped over the heap of the man, approaching Klaus with cautious eyes of his sudden, but familiar presence.

Klaus' smile grew, "It's been a long time."

She stared back, "I know."

They looked at each other for only a moment, and it was like no time had passed. Five hundred years of distance dissipated in the space between them, a faint smile crept unconsciously on her face, but it faltered.

"You've been looking for me. Why?"

His dimples disappeared as a frown settled in, "I can't tell you here."

"Why?"

"Wrong time and place. I just came to say hello."

Some silence passed before she stated, "You'll be seeing me."

The man on the ground muffled, "Help me, please."

Klaus rolled his eyes, and glared at the man interrupting their moment. He glanced back to where his friend was standing, but the space she filled was empty.

He sighed, but he knew that this time she would meet him again instead of running. All was not lost.

The man groaned again, delirious of his surroundings. Klaus lifted him against a big storage bin while the man ranted various 'thanks,' until he saw his saviour grow fangs too. Then, with no energy left to scream in defiance, Klaus finally got the drink he ordered. The thump of deadweight and a heavily satisfied exhale echoed in the small alleyway.

He reached into the interior pocket of his coat and pulled out his phone, texting one of his vampires his location so they could clean up the mess. He put the phone back in but felt a piece of paper in there. Confused, he pulled it out and opened it.

It read, 'Anne Orda. Private Investigator for Seattle Private Eye.' He raised a brow, remembering the man who bumped into him when he first entered the bar, realising he must've put it there at Anne's compulsion. Meaning she was—once again—ahead of him.

He shoved it back in, warmed his hands in his pockets and headed out the alleyway, the streetlights swallowing his figure.

This wouldn't be the last time he would be seeing Anne, and she certainly wasn't going to like why.

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