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Part 1 Part 2
- -- -- - ââââËĚśŕźËĚśââââ - -- -- - -
You couldn't sleep all night. Tossing and turning in bed, every small detail of the previous night played on an endless loop in your mind. The window into the world of the supernatural had been thrown wide open, and nothing could have prepared you for the realization that everything you had read in books as a kid was real. But the revelation wasnât enoughâyou wanted to know more, needed to know more. The red-haired woman who had saved and threatened you consumed your thoughts. Who was she? What was her story? How many were there? These thoughts kept you from sleeping until you eventually drifted asleep due to exhaustion.
The day after your chaotic brush with death, the office was abuzz with an uneasy energy. No one knew why there were cops on your floor, but the sight of one of the cleaning staff wrapped in a shock blanket painted a grim picture. Despite your own innocence, you were racked with guilt. You knew the truth about Davis, and only you could provide closure for his friends and family. But if you said anything that resembled the truth, you'd die. So instead, you listened carefully, curious as if someone would remember that you'd been in Bowmanâs office the night before. Though if no one said anything, the cameras would likely enlighten the detectives.
Your mind drifted to your red-haired savior and would-be killer. She said she'd come to you again, and though you knew nothing about her, you felt it was wise to trust her word. You wondered and hoped she'd at least let you beg for your memories. You didn't like being able to remember the fear you'd felt and your survivor's guilt was creating a hole in your stomach, but it was real. You wanted to know the bigger truth: humanity wasn't alone and supernatural existed.
The knowledge struck you cold with something akin to fear, but you wanted to cling to it. Now you understood why people in horror films made terrible and irrational decisions.
Naturally, as you thought about the existence of vampire, you began to daydream about the way the redhead had stood before you. Her skin was flawless, her green eyes piercing into your soul, her jawline appeared as though meticulously crafted by an artist and her lips were plump around the fangs you assumed had ripped into countless humans. The woman in her fitted black outfit had carved a space out for herself in your mind, and you doubted she intended to. Even in your confused terror, you'd made a note of the vampire's form.
It was embarrassing how being in extreme peril couldn't thwart your libido. You'd heard something about fear response and sexual response being quite similar; you hadn't paid much attention, but you grabbed onto the idea to make yourself feel better about lusting after who you sensed was an incredibly dangerous being.
"No one's seen Bowman," a woman whispered interrupted you from your noisy thoughts.
A voice from the adjacent cubicle replied, "Iâve heard the night staff found a body in there. Could be his.â
Though you weren't a part of the conversation, you followed the instruction all the same and looked towards the elevators reliving the haunting and life changing events of the previous night.
Suddenly, Ava snuck up behind you touching your shoulder "Did you hear what happened?" she asked, her eyes wide with concern.
You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. "Jesus , Ava, you almost gave me an heart attackâ you confessed putting a fake smile; âuhm yeah I heard people murmuring about the night staff finding a body," you replied, feeling the weight of the lie. You felt bad for lying to your friend, and lying about something this important, but you couldnât say a word to anyone. That was the price you had to pay for knowledge. And if that included a dreamy redhead, then you were more than willing to pay that price.
Ava nodded, glancing around nervously. "I talked to Louis, and he knows nothing either."
"That's strange," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "I wonder what's really going on."
Before Ava could respond, two people with 'Coroner' jackets wheeled a gurney in the direction of the office. Immediately, it struck you as odd. As far as you knew, there were two dead bodies to be found. Your mind began to theorize as to why only one body would be left behind and whose body it might be.
The HR manager and building manager stood outside Bowman's office, frantically whispering to each other. Then, a man you'd only seen in emails and charity events emerged from the office with a hanky over his mouth. If it was a crime scene, surely he, the CEO, shouldn't have been in the middle of it. He looked like he regretted going in; if it was in the state you assumed it was, you didn't blame him. Though he'd never set foot on your floor, he waved his hands around for everyone's attention. An officer emerged behind him to add effect.
"While I am sure that you are curious as to the events of this morning, we are going to ask that everyone goes home at this time."
The officer put his hand up to add, "Stay in the area; do not leave town in the next few days." They were going to interview people, but they didn't know who to call first.
"So no one is going to tell us what is going on?" A voice pressed.
"You will learn the important and relevant information as we understand more," the investigator replied. He really couldn't tell you anything because any information would have to be reported to you by the company board, and they loved to play keep-away with facts. You'd likely be the only one who ever knew the truth, and you only knew some of it. The cops may never know the reality.
Though there was grumbling and whispered questions, your coworkers did not wait around. They gathered their belongings and left willingly; they didn't want to stay and work when they could be dismissed for something that concerned someone else.
"Do you need a ride home?" Ava asked you, concern etched on her face.
"Don't worry about it," you replied. "I have errands to run anyway"
"Alright, but keep me updated, okay?"
"Of course," you said, forcing a smile. "talk to you later."
You waited until Ava left, then made your way to the restroom. You knew you'd never hear the whole truth about Bowman's demise from the higher-ups, and perhaps that was for the best. But acknowledging this didn't satiate the curious feeling. Whose body was going into the body bag, and what happened to the other one?
As far as plans went, the one you devised was comically simple: stay in the restroom and wait until the cops took a break. Then, you'd steal away into the office and do some investigating of your own.
The restroom was quiet, save for the occasional drip of a faucet. You paced back and forth, your mind racing with possibilities. You couldn't shake the feeling that something important had been left behind, something that might give you more insight into the mysterious red-haired vampireâs world.
You bit your bottom lip as you remembered the hallway cameras. Nothing would make you seem more like a person of interest like sneaking into a crime scene. Maybe you could lie and say that you'd left something inside the office, something that would show that you and Bowman were having an affair. It was a gross lie to imagine, but people loved a scandal, and presenting an 'embarrassing' story might get you out of suspicion. Everyone loved the chance to gossip. But the more you considered it, the less you could live with the lie.
Getting caught couldn't be an option. You had to be careful.
Minutes felt like hours as you waited, ears straining for any sound that might indicate the coast was clear.
It was close enough that you could hear the louder officers. Of course, it was still difficult to know the actual moment the scene was left unattended.
Your head began to rob with tension, for something that seemed so simple, it felt increasingly impossible.
It took twenty-three minutes for one of the beat cops to loudly announce that they were breaking for coffee. You counted ninety seconds and then you emerged from the stall. You washed your hands; you hadn't actually used the toilet, but you'd flushed. Which meant the noise had to be followed up with the noise of a faucet. It was expected bathroom ambiance. You'd seen how movies went, it was the little things that got people caught.
The moment you entered the hall, you saw something that would change your plan for the better, the absolutely better. For lying on the floor, was a badge. Some careless detective, Jonathan Herrera, had dropped his badge. His loss was your gain, but you'd think about the incompetence of your local police department another time. A lost badge gave you a reason to double back to Bowmanâs office.
Sure, you might appear nosey in the process, but you'd have the badge to return so you'd be a nosey do-gooder.
"Hello?" you asked cautiously, making sure that you weren't entering an occupied crime scene.
You were hyper-aware of the cameras at your back. No one was watching you, but all it took was a rewind button to rat you out. You did your best impression of someone who didn't want to do exactly what you planned to do.
No response, you didn't know if you were relieved or upset that you couldn't be stopped.
Inhaling deeply, you opened the door to Bowmanâs office. The scene was far less horrific than it had been the night before. The blood on the desk and floor had dried, and the coroners had already taken the body and any additional remains. If it weren't for the smell, you could pretend you were seeing a painting session that got out of hand. What really struck you was the singular outline that laid upon the desk. It was Davisâs outline; it marked where you'd seen him. Bowmanâs body must have been missing if he'd been killed there at all.
There would have been larger stains for a body's worth of viscera explosion. The absence unsettled you and shoved more questions into your already spiraling curiosity.
Before you could tumble too far down the rabbit hole, the desk began to vibrate. The sound was unmistakable. A phone was ringing somewhere in one of the drawers judging by the way the vibration was muffled. You could hear that the phone was bouncing around against wood.
Police were meant to thoroughly search a crime scene. Clearly, the ones assigned to your workplace case had missed something. You wondered if it was the responsibility of the man whose badge was still in your hand.
You hurried to the desk and found that the drawers had all been opened and rifled through.
Papers and pens were askew. The police had searched the desk. Yet the phone, which you assumed was Bowmanâs , was still somewhere to be found. The muffled vibrations seemed like they were coming from the long drawer directly underneath the center of the desk. Carefully, you felt underneath the drawer with your fingertips. It was very likely that the cops had done the same move, if it was obvious to you, it was likely routine for them.
Nevertheless, they had missed something. And something that was so well hidden had to be noteworthy.
Stilling your fingers, you felt the vibrations coming from the underside of the desk. Yet as you looked, you saw nothing. The drawer had a false bottom. When you placed your hand on the inside of the drawer, you could feel the vibrations underneath the wooden board. They were strongest near the back joining of the drawer. Again, you wondered about the usefulness of the police in your area. However, for once, police incompetence was working in your favor.
You felt a catch, a small hole that was just big enough to be felt by your fingertip. By applying a little pressure, you triggered the false bottom to shift slightly. The shift revealed the seam of a small panel. Quietly, despite the noise from the phone bouncing around, you slide the panel to the side. There, underneath in a small secretive pocket, was a phone. Whoever was calling, they were serious and Bowman didn't have a voicemail set up. You turned the phone off and stashed it in your pocket. In addition to the phone, a money clip was sitting inside the hidden compartment.
You took that too and without remorse. Bowmanâs had threatened to kill you, the money clip was deserved. Or was it? Nobody deserves anything after all; itâs simply a matter of whoâs willing to go and take it for themselves. No one is just a victim or a victor. Everyone is somewhere in between. People who go around casting themselves as one or the other are not only kidding themselves, but theyâre also painfully unoriginal.
Feeling that you had a live bomb in your pocket, you knew you needed to leave the office. Any other spoils would have to go unclaimed. You were certain that you had the jackpot anyway. A secret phone in a vampire's desk was sure to have all sorts of juicy information for you. Even if your memories were wiped, you'd have proof in your possession waiting for you to learn once again.
You sped towards the door, fully prepared to seem 'confused' and 'in search', but you nearly collided with a detective. He instantly frowned, but luckily for you, you recognized him. His face was in your hand. "You!" you said excitedly, though you wanted to vanish into thin air.
You brandished the badge. "I was looking for you. I found this," you handed the item to its rightful owner. At that moment, you realized how to turn suspicion into guilt; some of you're more overbearing family members would be delighted. "I didn't want to leave it with just anyone because I'd imagine it's pretty embarrassing to lose your badge.â
You laid it on thick, eyes wide in false innocence like the liar you knew you could always be. The detective hurriedly took the badge from you with a hushed, 'thank you' and a soft smile. After that, you both went your separate ways. He had a job to do poorly, and you were meant to be on your way home, a place you genuinely wanted to be.
âââ§âââââââ§ââ
It was there that you were able to snoop through Bowmanâs mystery phone. The money clip didn't actually hold money. They were some tickets or passes to something you knew nothing about.
What you found on the phone on the other hand, made you immediately regret snooping, but the more you discovered, the more you realized that you had found a way to keep your memories. Not only did you believe that you had found your saving grace, you believed it could keep you in contact with the red-haired woman. Time flew by as you imagined the possibilities. You never saw yourself as a sidekick, but perhaps it would suit you. You hadn't been this interested in someone since high school. Yes, you had crushes on boys and on girls, but you never acted upon them. You were never interested enough to take it further than friendship. You werenât that interested in knowing about people's lives. But now, you suddenly were. But this wasnât a crush, this was just you being reckless and wanting to discover things that donât belong to you, to your race.
"Human," her voice was like a purr, but the sudden noise made you jump.
You looked up to see that at some point, the red-haired vampire had entered your apartment. At first, you stammered, wanting to figure out how she'd achieved the feat, but your attention was stolen by the way she stood before you. Wearing a black leather jacket, black t-shirt, black jeans and black boots. She was confident, and you could practically feel the power swirling around her. You knew it was appropriate to be afraid of such a woman, and you were, but you were also captivated by her very existence.
"I have a name," you replied, hoping she'd inquire. You assumed, based on nothing, that it would be harder to kill someone if you knew their name. You wanted the vampire to know your name.
âI would assume that you do, but it is unknown to me, so I call you what I know you to be."
"What if I called you 'Vampire'? It seems offensive." you say.
"Only because that is a name given to us by humans and not what I call myself" the woman replied.
Her eyes glanced around the room, studying your living room.
"Wait how did you...aren't I supposed to invite you in?" you asked, confused, certain that you'd heard the rule many, many times. And if it appeared in countless stories and films, it had to be based on something true.
She arched a brow. "I've never understood that one," the woman replied, "as if my legs are bound by a spoken statement. I go where I please. I did tell you to expect me." She walked around the room, touching your things as she clearly studied you. Then she stopped at your library, taking in all of your books. Your most precious possessions.
"How old are you?" you asked abruptly, surprising yourself.
"This is rude," she replied. "You have someone into your home for the first time, and you ask them, 'how old are you?'"
Though her tone was fairly light, you wanted to apologize. Many people would have taken offense to such a question. You'd been impulsive, and it made you nervous that any additional poorly asked questions would put a preemptive end to your plan to endear yourself to the vampire woman. Your jaw began to fumble at the words of your apology.
"The less you know about me, the better." She picked a picture from your bookshelf. You watched her look at the photograph with a quizzical expression. It took you a whole ten seconds to spit out another invasive question.
"Do you show up in photographs?"
"Why would I take pictures of myself? So others can find that I don't age as they do? Why would I do this to myself?" she asked.
"But you could? If you wanted to?" you answered.
"You've been watching the fairy tales, darling" the woman said, slightly chiding you in her faint Eastern European accent. The pet name made you flinch. It sounded so good coming from her mouth. Okay, thatâs enough. Control yourself, you thought.
"Have you also considered why you were able to see your boss during the day? Surely that must have given you reason for concern."
"Yeah, I did actually. Why is that?" you asked while she stopped examining your household and came near you.
"Human," the vampire said firmly. She seemed unwilling to offer you any genuine or in-depth answers. "You do not seem like a person who has changed their mind."
"Well, about that." You clutched the phone in both of your hands. "I got a hold of Bowmanâs phone. Not the one he used for business, but one he had hidden in his desk, in a secret compartment. You would think the police would have found it before me, but they didnât."
The woman was next to you, the phone in her hand before you could utter another syllable. You spoke to her as you remained at her side. Even the shock of her speed didn't deter you; you wanted to stand beside the vampire. It gave you the opportunity to really take in the features of her face.
"He's been in contact with others. They've been rounding up humans to trade for a fighting ring, and what I'm assuming is a slave trade. If you're worried about sloppy vampires getting found out, this is probably something you'd want to look into," you said.
By the way the woman looked at you, you could tell that she wasn't buying your selfless informant act. "How did you find this?"
"He had a secret compartment in his desk."
"Why were you in his office?" She asked something so simple, but you didn't have an answer. You didn't want to lie, but the truth would sound so bad. You'd seem so desperate. You tried to modify the reality to save as much face as possible.
"I was curious to see what happened after I left."
"Please do not make me read your mind." she said arching her left brow again, apparently she seems to do that often, and you seem to notice every small thing about her.
"Im telling the thruth" you grumbled. As your hand began to rub a phantom neck pain, you admitted, "I needed to know what happened. Even if it was just for a little while. I went in, and then I heard his phone from some unfound place in his desk. You may not know this about humans, but we're often slaves to our own curiosity."
Again, you left out the part where you studied the phone like a possessed woman in order to find a bargaining chip. However, you could tell that she knew. Even if she wasn't reading your mind, she could tell you were gearing up to negotiate. The redhead sat down on your couch.
Despite meeting her less than twenty-four hours earlier, you'd pictured her on your couch many, many times.
"We knew he was reckless, but this is new information. I do not recognize all of the names here; this is most likely purposeful." The woman looked up from the phone and saw you standing.
"This is your home, sit," she said, smirking at your hesitation. And you did. You followed directions to sit on your own couch. "I assume you want to make a trade for this information."
"You assumed right," you confirmed, "But, I don't want anything tangible. I'd like," You took a breath, "I'd like to keep what I've learned. All of it, I don't want you to take my memories."
The woman looked at you, she really looked at you. This made you feel vulnerable, exposed, and oddly hopeful. She hadn't immediately told you off for your attempts at being crafty. That had to be a good sign.
"I could take this phone, your memories, and you'd know nothing," she admitted honestly with a grin.
You fell silent, unable to even hear your breathing.
"Why do you wish to keep this knowledge when I can feel your fear?" she asked
"Truth is truth, and I want to know the truth even if it's terrifying."
"I have seen what this knowledge does to humans, you would not like it. You would assume anyone who acts a certain way is forever living and therefore a potential threat. You'll think you ought to convince someone else so you feel less alone with your information. This knowledge will devour you."
"But at least it would be my choice to make," you responded honestly.
âThis knowledge, these truths, can put you in the path of things far more dangerous than you realize, and this knowledge will never be enough for you. You will crave more.â She says with a stern look.
"The truth may set you free, but first it will shatter the mirror you hold to your soul." you murmur with a soft fake smile.
Natasha arches her brow and lips curled into a mischievous smile, a glint of amusement dancing in her eyes.
âItâs a quote from..â before you could finish to explain, Natasha cuts you off âOscar Wilde, âThe picture of Dorian Grayââ she interjected smoothly, her tone nonchalant yet laced with subtle amusement. âI noticed it on your shelf earlierâ
Her confession caught you off guard, making you realize how observant she truly was. "You noticed?"
âOf course, I notice many things, sweetheartâ Her teasing nickname and confident demeanor added to the mystique that surrounded her, realizing that Natasha's keen perception extended far beyond her supernatural abilities. She was not just a vampire with god knows how many years of experience but someone who paid attention to details that others might overlook.
"Well, I suppose you do," you murmured, a mix of fascination and admiration coloring your voice.
Natasha leaned back against the couch, her gaze holding yours. "So, about your insistence on getting involved..."
You closed your eyes and sighed, "I want to remember for me. If I utter a word of it to anyone else, I give you permission," you shouldn't, you really should have kept your mouth shut, "to do what you do...to me."
"Kill you, you mean." She murmured whilst another smirk appeared on her face. It was almost as if she was enjoying this way too much.
You nodded with a cringe. The woman's face was unchanged as her hand reached out to you.
Gently, she curled her fingers under your jaw and traced your chin with her thumb. Her hand was cool to the touch, but not cold like you assumed she would be. Her eyes were deep pools of green that made it impossible to think of anything else but her presence.
You stopped breathing as her eyes penetrated yours, her fingers gently caressing your chin, sending a shiver down your spine. You had never felt like this, this vulnerable. Her touch was a paradox, firm yet tender, shattering your preconceived notions with every passing second. You would think a vampire wouldn't be this gentle, this soft, but now you realize how little you actually knew about her, and vampires in general. Maybe this was just a facade. You wanted to know more about her though; you ached with an intense desire to truly know her.
âBreathe,â she murmured, a soft smile curling at the corners of her lips.
You exhaled sharply, realizing your body had instinctively halted your breath, captivated by the spell of her touch and gaze.
"Human, you're asking for far more than I think you realize. But I will honor your request for now. You did right to give this to me." Your heart felt like it was going to burst from your chest in an extremely dramatic way. "I will take this information back to my people. Did anyone see you get this phone?"
"No, and only one cop saw me in the office. But I had a good excuse to be there."
The woman didn't seem like she approved of the news, but made no efforts to chastise your behavior. She didn't need to, you could feel her disproval. She stood up from your couch, phone in hand. "I'm going to take this. Leaving it here will only draw attention to you. And I worry you may not have been as elusive as you would like."
"You don't know that" you said with a small frown.
Assuredly, the woman replied, "I do." She headed to your front door. "I will be in touch."
"Do you think...do you think I should be worried about the people Bowman was texting?" You asked, trying desperately to seem less concerned with the possibility than you were.
"Yes." She didn't mince words. "But I can take care of them."
Your stomach flipped in your abdomen. "How will you know? How can I get in touch with you?â
"So many questions. You're asking me to trust you, human. I am asking you to do the same without asking so many questions with answers I will not answer."
You said your name, just your name. If the woman was going to return, and if she was going to be concerned with your well-being, she needed a name, and so did you. "That's my name..."
"Figuredâ she sighs âyou may call me, Natasha," she said looking at you one more time and then she left. She offered no, 'good-bye', but at least you'd gotten a name; a name as gorgeous as she was.
Upon realizing that you had one final question, you hurried into the hall to catch Natasha before she departed. But the door had been a formality, and you found no trace of her.
It didn't matter; by the sound of it, you'd have a few more chances to ask Natasha about herself.
And she would have plenty of opportunities to refuse to answer any your questions.
- -- -- - ââââËĚśŕźËĚśââââ - -- -- - -
Note:
hello!
this was originally part of the first chapter, but it became too long, so I've decided to split it into a second chapter.
please, let me know if you have something to suggest or to say, because i have literally no idea of what im doing. lol. This is my first attempt at writing after I donât know how many months or even yearsâŚaaand English itâs not even my first language, soo pls bare with me, I can be very paranoid:)
xx
Reposting this because everyone needs to read this ASAP! Itâs gonna be the next big series I swear! Itâs soooooooo fucking amazing!! And the way @hellokittyyyysblog write is just *chefs kiss* itâs so good and alluring and well written. It pulls you in and makes you start your own fantasy. I will be thinking and daydreaming about this fic for the next weeeeekkk.
PLEASE READ THIS FIC. DONT SKIP THIS ONE! IM TELLING YOU.
