Breaking Darkness

Chapter 3: I Got a Woman

Sammy snored lightly from the room next to mine. My house was a Creole Cottage style home over 150 years old. I had lived there for... well... 150 years. My cover story was that the residence had been in the Chisenhall family for 150 years. Nope. It was all mine, and I never redecorated the place because I adored its rustic charm. And it was home. Why would I want to change it?

Another light snore from the other room drew my attention. I wasn't used to the sound, and I certainly wasn't used to hearing it in my house. Huffing as I turned in bed, I contemplated getting up to watch TV in the living room where the sounds of the strange and sleeping human would be a little quieter. Vampires never sleep, which meant we had a lot more time on our hands to occupy, but even though I was rolling my eyes at the woman's sounds, I didn't want to shuffle around my place with the human there. As a result, I sighed in resignation, opting to continue hiding in bed and watching the small television resting atop my dresser. From the other room, the snoring stopped, and I grew inexplicably worries until I heard Samantha cough then shift in her own before resuming her light snoring. Smiling quietly in amusement, I cranked up the volume on my TV as I tried to solve the real question.

What the hell had happened, and how was I going to make this up toAntoinette?

The smell of something I hadn't smelled in a very long time roused me: pancakes. I turned off my T.V. and walked out of my room to find Sammy in my kitchen. She stood there in the light of early morning, which was filtering in through my UV protected windows. The human was wearing a ridiculous pink A-line dress and black heels making fucking pancakes in my kitchen. She'd made herself right at home, digging through my cabinets to find the dishes she needed and spreading the myriad of ingredients she'd used all over the counter.

Hold on... where did she get the stuff to make pancakes? I didn't exactly keep my pantry stocked since I'd stopped caring about human food about fifty years into my immortality.

Her back was to me, and I spoke. "What are you-?"

My words made her jump. Apparently, I scared her, though when she turned and caught me staring at her, she smiled widely. "Oh, good morning, Timothy."

She had a smear of flour on her cheek. Oh, and she was also wearing a strand of pearls because apparently one needed to wear pearls when they made breakfast. I ignored the unsettling feelings washing over me at the sight of her looking oddly like she fit in my kitchen. Was I being punked? Tricked? This had to be orchestrated by someone? People like this literally don't exist.

"Hello, Sammy." I smiled woodenly and gestured to the ingredients as I spoke, "Where did you get the materials for pancakes?"

She shrugged. "You only have beer in the fridge," Her eyes cut to me icily, atmosphere changing on a dime, "You shouldn't drink so much, by the way. It's not good for your liver."

Following her look and her admonishment, I felt cold, almost as if the temperature had dropped. How did she do that? And it wasn't beer in my fridge. It was blood, though I couldn't tell her that fun fact.

Done fussing at me, she smiled again. "I walked down to the store."

"Walked?" I asked in disbelief. I hadn't heard her leave. I should have heard her leave. I could hear her heartbeat from across the room. I would have heard her ridiculous heels on my hardwood this morning.

She grinned. "I was being quiet. I didn't want to wake you."

I opened and closed my mouth in surprise. She couldn't wake me. I don't fucking sleep. "I... uh."

Sammy looked down and grabbed her spatula, slapping two now finished pancakes onto a plate. "Go wash your hands, Timothy."

Automatically, I turned to head toward the bathroom, ready to oblige. Wait. What the hell was I doing? Mid walk to the bathroom, I turned back around and found her placing our plates on the table. The table? I hadn't used that thing in ages. With a shake of my head, I grabbed a beer bottle of blood out of the fridge and went to sit down. I didn't want to refuse Samantha's breakfast. Why I didn't want to refuse it... well, I would have to find that out. I frowned a little while looking down at my plate. The poor human had gone to all the effort to make my breakfast, even though I wouldn't fucking eat any of it.

Seeing me inspecting the meal, she grinned, but her expression darkened when she looked at the bottle I held. "Beer with breakfast?" I didn't miss the accusatory tone in her voice, but I ignored her as settled more into my seat by the table. If only she knew I had to drink what was in the bottle; otherwise, another snack would tempt me later, something clad in a pink dress, white heels, and pearls.

She sat in a chair next to the window, smoothing out her dress as she did. Looking at me with her wide eyes, she asked, "What do you think?"

With a huff, I stared at my plate in confusion once more. "Um, they look good."

Following my words, she beamed, lighting up the room with her smile. "Oh, I hope you breakfast, Timothy. The pancakes are my own recipe."

I doubted I would like them. I hadn't enjoyed human food for over a century. Of course vampires could eat normal food. It just lost its appeal over time because it offered us no nutritional value. As I mused, I sensed Samantha regarding me expectantly, eager for me to take a bite of the food she'd prepared. I sighed. There was no way out of it, huh? Her wide eyes saw everything. I tried to hide my displeasure as I grabbed a fork, speared a small bit of pancake, then shoved the tiny bite into my mouth and scrunched up my face as I chewed. I was prepared to be greeted by something edible but rather bland, something alright tasting but that simply wasn't good to me. Therefore, the fact that the pancakes tasted good surprised me.

How the fuck did it taste good?

I spoke absentmindedly, my astonishment clear in my voice. "They're... good, Sammy. Really good."

When I ventured a look at the woman, she smiled victoriously. "I'm so happy you like them!" She grinned again before she leaned in closer to me. I felt the heat of her body and a powerful wave of rose scent accompanied by the smells of flour and syrup and my body wash hit me. Apparently, she'd also used my shower this morning without me knowing. Samantha pinned me wither her gaze as she spoke in conspiratorial tones. "The secret ingredient is love, Tim. Oh, do you mind if I call you Tim? Because sometimes I forget names but--"

I didn't process what she was saying. Fascinated, I cut off another bite of pancake and stabbed it with my fork, holding it up as I inspected it in the morning light. Syrup dripped off forkful and landed back onto the plate. This shouldn't taste good. There was no way that I should find a pile of fucking pancakes edible, let alone appetizing. She was still mumbling something.

"Huh?" I asked, shaking myself from my reverie.

"Is 'Tim' Ok?"

I nodded, still in shock. "Yeah, yeah. Tim is fuc- fine... just fine."

Samantha grinned as she started eating her own breakfast. Shaking my head in wonder, I opened my bottle and took a swig. The sharp, metallic taste of blood greeted me and it miraculously still tasted amazing. Thank God. It was good to know that my whole being a vampire thing hadn't changed somehow. When I looked back at Samantha to find her mindlessly playing with the pancakes on her plate, looking decidedly sad, I tried to think of some sort of small talk.

"So, what brings you to New Orleans, Sammy?" I took another swig from my bottle, but the thought of taking another bite of pancake frightened me. There was something seriously wrong with me.

She set down her fork and looked up at me, then smiled darkly as her gaze narrowed unexpectedly and the atmosphere cooled. "I'm going to find the mother fuckers who murdered my father."

I started choking on a mouthful of blood. Come again?