Teeth

Guest-part 2

Under different circumstances, I'd be surprised at how well you can function on a sort of autopilot, because outside of bravado... I don't know that I had anything left but the vague promise of coffee brewed by a tiny stranger whose body language somehow promised dangerous things the way a baby rattlesnake did.
 
 The floor is still cold, but the running shower and the open door of the bathroom have send drifts of heat and steam drifting out into the rest of the apartment, and made little damp places that leave tracks from my bare feet. I head back into the bathroom and crank the knobs to the off position, glance to the abandoned shirt in the hamper.  I still don't know any more than I did when I got up, and now I don't want to wear that either, with all the implications that someone else may have changed my clothes for me. And that woman...

 Was she talking about my dad? What the hell did she do to me?  How the hell am I even alive?

I look myself over again, trying to find clues and find nothing other than the scar on my stomach that looks any different than I looked yesterday.  I want answers, but I don't feel like being dissected by the scalpel of her disapproving eyebrow, and even the aroma of fresh brewed coffee wasn't making it any warmer in here.

 I stepped out of the bathroom, glanced down the hall, half expecting for her to have stepped away from the counter so that she could glare at me some more, but as far as I could tell, she hadn't moved, which made me feel, even artificially, a little less on display as I went back to the bedroom and went to the closet for some fresh clothes. My favorite pair of jeans and a clean t-shirt, and to be warmer, a pull over hoodie that went on next, and a pair of socks I pulled out of the organizer and clutched in one hand as I made my way back to the kitchen, pulling strands of my hair out of the collar as I did. It helps a little. I take what I can get.

 "OK." I said again, as I entered, and rested my hands on he back of one of the kitchen chairs.  It was hard to entirely leave alone the scar I now knew was there, and the urge to stuff my hands into the pocket on the front of the hoodie and cover it up was like an nagging itch I really wanted to scratch, so instead I grabbed for the coffee cup, nearly sloshing hot coffee over my fingers, dripping on the table instead.
 
 I do my best to ignore the mess.

 "You weren't..." I started, then corrected myself. "I didn't see you." 
 
 The idea of her hanging from the light post or perched on the roof in a black ninja outfit is diverting, but ridiculous, but then again... I thought the idea of someone this side of a book tearing other people apart with their bare hands was pretty ridiculous too. Stereotypes aside, maybe I shouldn't be writing the idea off so fast.

 "Mm." She made a small sound in her throat and put her coffee down, and clarified this cryptic noise as she continued. "You're right. I wasn't. Lily called me in to help her... clean up. Not surprised you missed that, you were indisposed."

 "Lily."

 I must have sounded particularly incredulous, because she dropped her chin slightly, underlining her continued disapproval with her body language.

 "It's not short for Lilith, if that's what you were thinking. Don't be dramatic."

 "Oh hey, sorry." I snort, taking my coffee cup to the fridge so I can defile it with flavored creamer. "I guess I'm not clear on what counts as being -too damn dramatic- when I have a complete stranger in my apartment and may or may not have nearly died because of a... a..." I didn't even know. "Mugging? Goddess? Nightmare?"

 "Vampire." She corrects, blandly. Apparently this is supposed to solve things. Or be somehow more reasonable.

 "Ok but that doesn't help... that... that can't be real. She can't be real. It's just... there's diseases and stuff and the reactions of corpses... we've explained this stuff. It's just smut fiction material anymore."