On the cusp: An Alisper story

Chapter 1 - Hope.

The half-empty diner in front of me was really the only choice on this desolate street. The pounding rain didn't bother me, but it would a human. If I wanted to blend in, I'd have to take shelter somewhere.

This area was full of factories, and going back to the underpass might push the temptation to quench my thirst too far. The humans there were filthy, but at least I could find someone whose mind was numb by narcotics.

A wave of wariness washed over me as a police officer in the diner's window seat drew his partner's attention to my stillness with a nod in my direction. Now that I was interacting with humans as more than food, it surprised me how astute some of them were. Even through the pouring rain, the officer had sensed that I was an dangerous entity. I wonder what he would do if he knew how lethal I really was.

As I stepped forward, I sent back a wave of reassurance, and the officer picked up his cup and swung his eyes to check on his cruiser instead. It was a pity my effect on emotions only lasted as long as I was focused on them. I preferred to tune out the sea of emotions around me, but authority figures were always worth paying attention to.

My heart sped up as I reached for the door. Out in the downpour, the scent of the humans was slightly dulled, but in the confines of the diner it would be overwhelming. If I was going to choose this life, though, I had to get a grip on my self-control.

I'd been pushing my limits between feeds, but the familiar pang of guilt about my most recent kill, however necessary for my survival, still turned my stomach sour.  The waves of depression radiating from the man had made me almost want to take my own life, so I'd probably done him a good turn by saving him the task of taking his own. The moment of fear when he'd realised it was actually ending, though, the moment of fear they all had except the unconscious, filled me with revulsion for what I was. I could close my eyes, but I couldn't cut off the flow of emotional information when I was feeding.

I reflexively swallowed the saliva that filled my mouth in anticipation of the forbidden buffet waiting inside the diner. If it weren't for the eyes of the officers on me, I wouldn't have taken the risk of my thirst getting the better of me. As it was, I'd have to duck in and get a cup of coffee. Savouring a cup of bitter, black coffee while watching the promise of the day unfold with the sun rise over the Texas hills of my father's ranch was one of the sharpest human memories I had.

My nostrils flared in anticipation of the heady scent of the people inside, the hot blood pumping through them. I swallowed again and breathed in deeply - then froze on the threshold as I detected the scent of one of my own.

She sat directly across from me at the back of the diner.

Even though she was tiny in every way, from her rail-thin arms and boyish hips, to the tiny crinkles around her eyes, every muscle in my body tensed for a fight when she hopped off her stool. Her smile could be one of anticipation in taking down someone much bigger than her. Vast experience had taught me never to underestimate a foe. She could easily be as lethal as me. 

As she sauntered up the aisle, her tawny eyes transfixed me. I'd never seen the colour before. Only varying shades of crimson. I sincerely hoped I wouldn't have to kill her, because then I wouldn't be able to ask what she ate to give her that colour.

She was halfway to me before I realised the cocoon of love and devotion she was wrapping me in. I'd never met anyone who could manipulate emotions as I did, so, at first, I was unsure if it was  some power she possessed to put me off my guard. Whether it was or not, she was effectively destroying my defences with each step closer.

She skip-danced the last few feet and stopped a mere inch or two away from me, as if she knew the caress of her emotions was as potent as pressing herself to me unclothed. I had to crane my neck down to look at her fully, but I would gladly do it if it meant I could be awash in the pure love she had shining out of her eyes.

When Peter risked himself to get away with Charlotte, I thought he had been a fool to make such a sacrifice for another. Now I knew that sacrifice was not even an iota of the lengths I'd go to protect this waif before me. I would defend her against a thousand newborns before I'd let anything harm her.

"You've kept me waiting a long time," she said, jesting instead of recriminations.

Since I began to talk, politeness had been drummed into me, so I did the only thing a Southern gentleman could do. I ducked my head in apology and said, "I'm sorry, ma'am."

The few times I'd met others since I'd struck out on my own, they'd usually exchange a few words and then almost run away, leaving a cloud of fear in their wake. I couldn't erase the hundreds, possibly thousands, of battle scars that marked me. I was unsure I would want to.

Even with the stark evidence of my brutal past, this woman - this lady - reached out and took my hand as if I were no more harmless than a babe in arms.

"Come on, Jaz," she said. A thrill ran through me at the nickname. It didn't make sense she knew my name at all, but I didn't care. For the first time in almost two centuries, my silent heart settled as her small fingers wrapped around mine, and something stirred inside that I thought had been lost to me: hope.