Clueless

Chapter Seven: Piyrah

I pull into the driveway of Kristin's bar, but I don't go anywhere. I just lay my head down against my steering wheel.

There's a knock at my car door.

I sigh, turn off my car, slip my phone into my back pocket, and roll down the window.

"Yeah?" I yawn out.

"I know this is a lot to ask of you," Kristin blurts out, "But I need your help."

"Oh, uh, okay." I rub the travel lag from my eyes and hop out, making an extra effort to grab my phone, before running inside the bar. "What's up?"

"They're right through here." Kristin drags me over to the back of the bar, and double knocks on a metal door, noticeably using the back of her knuckles instead of the side of her hand like usual.

I only noticed it was humming after it stopped. Kristin looks to me and says "It's safe to go in now." as she opens the door. It opens to a small metal room. And in the center, there's a ball of flame.

Wait. Not a ball.

The Flame opens up. No. Stands up. It's a person? She turns around and looks right into my eye, and she's beautiful.

And slowly the flames draw their way back, into the eyes.

And they're a brilliant orange.

"My name is Piyrah." Her voice licks at my ears like a flame on kindling. I honestly don't think I can describe it in a different way. "I know what you're going through. Wolves are impulsive for the most part. Creatures of Passion, pyropires like me, attract wolves in droves."

"Wolf?" I manage. I'm no wolf.

"It's clear." She says. "In your eyes. Full of emotion, full of passion."

"But don't werewolves turn every full moon?" I say.

Piyrah walks over to me, swaying her hips subtly. "Only after the curse has been triggered. I don't think you've killed before."

"I have not," I say, following Piyrah's movements with my eyes. "As a matter of fact."

"May I taste your blood?" She asks. "Just a little?"

I lean my neck to the side, pull my hair out of the way. She's convincing, for a vampire. "Bon Appetite."

Her eyes bleed, darkened crimson replacing the bright orange. And then the hiss. A slick, subtle hiss. Erotic yet dangerous.

And then she bites. A painless, momentary bliss. And then she draws back.

"Oh," She purrs. "A hybrid."

"H-hybrid?" I slur. I probably shouldn't let myself get bitten a second time.

"Pyropires are rare hybrids between vampires and phoenixes." She says. "So rare, in fact, that only two exist at any given time. My brother has stronger control over his emotions. He lives in the Sahara. But you..."

I turn to look directly at her.

"You are a syphon-wolf hybrid." She smiles. "The rarest of the rare. One of a kind."

"Syphon?" I ask.

"You take Majik. You syphon it off of the supernatural. I could tell when my fangs started to retract. And you taste marvelously of wolf. You taste good. But the syphon in you kept me from taking a proper sip."

"Ghosts... are they Majik?" I ask.

"Ghosts? They exist?" Piyrah and Kristin ask at the same time.

"Uh, yeah..." I say, remembering Kristin's in the room. "I've been a medium my whole life. I thought you knew, Kristin."

"I do not believe that ghosts are supernatural or Majik." Piyrah sighs. "Maybe preternatural at most."

"So if I was to form a bond strong enough to interact with a particular ghost, I wouldn't, siphon away them?" I ask.

"I don't believe you would, no." Piyrah says. "But I make no promises."