Bridget sighed at the news. It was embarrassing enough to come to a school and not know if she could enroll, but being in the wrong place just took the cake. She wanted to give up and go try just reading books again.Â
âShoot. I donât reckon you might know where the department is?âBridget said hoping her face wasnât red. She really needed to learn this new English as quickly as she could.Â
âIâm hoping to be, but I figured I should talk to someone.â Her hands started to fiddle with a bit of her dress. Something about the other made her a bit nervous in a way she couldnât quite place, but she was more than willing to be proven wrong. âItâs been awhile since Iâve been in an educational establishment.âÂ
It wasnât like Vivienne to be empathetic, but everything about the woman screamed anxious and frustrated. She took a beat before smiling as warmly as possible. âEnglish would be that way, but Iâm afraid theyâre all gone for the day.â
The way she spoke reminded her of books sheâd read in college, old texts that explained the beginnings of science. Ones with paintings to accompany the text rather than photos. âWould that person need to be part of the English department? Or might I offer some assistance?â She had some time to kill, after all, and this woman had intrigue written all over her forehead. âThereâs a coffee shop right around the corner and I donât have an appointment until much later this evening.â
It was an average night for Natalia, she had come in a few hours after the club opened, got a drink, sat at the bar for half an hour before retiring to her little dressing room for last minute touch ups and a bite from her favorite bartender before taking the stage. It was easy, falling into a routine that helped to keep her feeling safe, or sane, the latter was more important for the townsfolk of Ashbourne anyway, there were enough crazy killers without her adding to the lot.
Her break seemed to come quickly and as Tali stepped off the stage she gave Harlan a kiss on the cheek as she passed, playing off his usual compliments with over dramatic swooning before making her way toward the bar. What she hadnât expecting was someone to step up to her, hand outstretched to shake with a compliment of their own, it was almost a surprise, âYouâre sweet.â She smiled, shaking the hand quickly, âHows the wine tonight? I hope our boys have been treating you well.â The face was familiar, though she wasnât sure they had officially met before she knew enough to want to keep the other on her good side, though there was reason for that with most in the room at this point.
The girl at the shithole bar had been exceedingly correct in her suggestion of this bar. It was much more Vivienneâs speed, and despite the fact that the girl had clearly been trying to insult her, Viv couldnât be bothered to find the insult. Her insinuation that this jazz club with real wine, or as close to it as you could find in this town, and real talented live music was more of a place for her was a great compliment to the professor.
âOh, very well, thank you. And the compliment is all yours,â She smiled, for once not feeling like she was playing a part. Not entirely, at least. âHow did a town like this manage to find some real talent?â Viv shook her head. âI know itâs not ideal for any of us to be stuck here, but let me say Iâm pleased to find thereâs a little class here after all.â
Lil wasnât sure if she understood Vivâs comment. Cages didnât sit well with Lil, and although the town seemed beautiful it seemed like a big arena filled with dangers. Still she didnât question the comment, knowing that some people might find comfort in not being in charge of their own fate.Â
Lilâs eyebrow raised slightly not used to blatant talk of supernatural creatures, and she couldnât help but equate it someone wishing a car accident on someone. A figure of speech, and a wish for some unknown force to exact karma.Â
Still at the question Lil cracked a smile. âIâve got a habit of it yeah. Mostly I find if no one tells people that their behavior is unacceptable they go around thinking they can do it. Getâs me kicked out a lot of places, but I figure they canât kick me out of here right?âÂ
Hoisting her bag further up her shoulder, Viv gave a polite smile. âThat they canât, thought Iâm sure some would try.â Of course, they could just bleed you dry and shove you under the infernal Blood Tree, but Vivienne opted to keep that comment to herself. âI appreciate your moxy. Youâll find there are quite a lot of people around here who need to be put in their place, Iâm afraid.âÂ
Her eyes wandered across the campus. So far, Viv had encountered a number of people, supernatural and otherwise, with egos far too big for their own good. But patience was key. There was plenty of time, no one was going anywhere, after all.
Peter had, in all his years of life, never been picky about alcohol, especially when he couldnât exactly get drunk easily as it was. Alcohol, as far as the werewolf was concerned, was alcohol. He might be a bit more picky in other aspects of his life, but he would drink what he had, and considering Ashbourne was not exactly growing itâs own grapes for wine, or importing high shelf alcohol to stock the stores and bars, it was what it was. If it was below the womanâs taste, he wouldnât begrudge her for not drinking it. More for him, the way he saw it. But he downed his own glass rather quickly as the woman spoke, an eyebrow lifting slightly.
âI would prefer you not. Numb anything. Donât try to conceal the pain from me.â It would be interesting to see if scientific pain was as grounding as self-inflicted pain. If it would work to achieve that same release that he used to ease some of the guilt that he felt. Would someone else causing the pain work just as well. It was like a mini experiment within this larger batch of research they were doing. âI would rather feel every single slice, prick, or anything else you might need to inflict to study this, Miss Adair.â He didnât have to explain that it was an attempt to chace the high that pain made him feel, in the same way others might use drugs to numb their pain.Â
The question gave him pause, as he tried to recall spotty medical history. A vague memory came to him and he offered a short nod of his head. âPenicillin. And technically, I think that silver counts as an allergy for all werewolves. As is wolfsbane. Otherwise, nothing that I can recall.â He lifted his shrug almost noncommittally as he stretched his arm out to the woman. âI should warn you, the veins in the crook of my elbow donât tend to work well for collecting blood. The wrist or the back of my hand might be a better bet for you. Though I am quite curious what samples you need to take from me that require surgery. Planning to take pieces of my major organs?â At that, he offered a wry little smirk, almost teasing the woman.
Vivienne raised a manicured brow as her subject downed the rest of his rancid wine. She was well aware that most people didnât have any sort of palette for wine, but that didnât make it any more acceptable to slam it down your gullet like a shot of grain alcohol at a frat party. The woman took another careful sip and set the glass aside. âI prefer not to cloud my senses too much before we dive in, you understand.â It was true, just as she would rather drink cough syrup then finish the glass he offered. But she wanted to keep up the pleasantries. It wouldnât help her any if Mr. Lopez decided to rescind his offer before she even got to take one sample.
âAre you sure?â It was a surprising request. Most people would only ask to feel the pain if there was some other kind of pain they were trying to smother. âI will, of course, oblige.â She opened a journal, beginning a section titled âMr. Lopez - Lycanthropeâ. She noted the aversion to penicillin and silver, thrilled to learn at least one of the myths was true. Unfortunately for her subject, a fair amount of her tools were pure silver, but she decided to keep this tidbit to herself. It would be easy to explain away later, and the professor would be lying if she said she wasnât interested to see how the wolfâs body would react.
She nodded, scribbling down a note about his veins. It had been ages since sheâd had a willing subject, and even then it had been back in school, with boring, dead humans. Normally, Viv would have to discover these facts on her own. It was both exciting and disappointing to have some of the basics down and known before she even began her work.
A sly smile crept across her features at his teasing question. âDonât worry, I wonât be harvesting any organs. However for us to make any real progress, Iâll have to pinpoint where the virus takes hold, so to speak.â Viv closed her notebook and set her hands delicately on top. âBut that wonât be until much later, if itâs necessary. More likely, weâll be sticking to blood tests.â The professor cocked her head. âI assume you are alright with being the subject we test any potential cures on, yes?â Though she certainly wouldnât be opposed to finding a few lab mutts for their usage.
Fergus glanced against to the puzzle piece dead prat once last time. âCould be.â Fergus muttered with a shrug of his shoulders. He supposed she was right it didnât really matter what this person had done in the past. Since they were rather stiff and lifeless right now. He honestly didnât really care what they had done for a living. It would even less complicate his life if they had been employed at the Research Lab, at least he would know there was a fucking spot open. The man teetered his head from side to side in agreement of her assessment. â Aye, Wâatever it was, they will nay be goinâ to work in ta morninâ.â He vocally agreed with the woman.
âAh do nay get me started about tâat. Â Ta skinwalker tale goes tâat tâese people don ta skins of ta animals and tâey become them. Tâey are said ta be evil of course, but ye figure they think ta animal skin will save them from human scrutiny. They still wouldnât stick around though, and would have definitely attacked my arse when I came around ta corner.â Fergus mused out loud and quirked a brow at Vivienne. He almost wanted to ask her what would stop her, but that could be waited for another time.
âTrophies ye say? I suppose so. Ye speak like someone tâat knows.â Fergus murmured thoughtfully and watched between her and the cold splits. The next comment caused a brow of his to rise curiously.
âWâat do ye tâink ta biggest concern is?â Fergus asked incredulously. Was she frightened of the supernatural? He doubted it, but he knew he didnât care if the body lured other things to the alley. He needed to hunt tonight anyway and it would knock two birds out with one stone.â The phone cut their conversation quick as he nodded towards her.
âOi wait, here have my card.â Fergus plucked the gloves off one hand and handed her his phone number. âSee ye around.â He chimed in as she started to fall out of the dim alleywayâs light. Tonight was going to be a good night.
In all aspects of life, we take on a part and an appearance to seem to be what we wish to beâand thus the world is merely composed of actors.Â
â François de la Rochefoucauld
âHey, pretty girl. Why donât you slide on over here, hm?â
Vivienne was no stranger to the condescending tone Tommy used. It was the same that so many had spoken to her with for her entire life. Her father, her classmates, teachers, men who wanted to get the quiet girl to âlet loose for onceâ. But they were all the same. They were all monsters in their own right, incapable of seeing Viv for what she was. Though she couldnât really fault them for it, not anymore. Not since sheâd shoved who she was into a corner deep, deep within herself, so far down it was unlikely there was any real part of her truly left.
Sugar was the last one to see that little girl, but that was years ago. That was middle school, two high schools, and college ago. That was a billion insects, a hundred neighborhood cats and dogs ago, an entire cupboard of snakes and rats ago.
Drop your glasses, shake your asses
Face screwed up like you having hot flashes
Which one, pick one, this one, classic
Red from blonde, yeah bitch I'm drastic
Vivâs nose turned up at the R&B beats blaring from Tommyâs radio. She reached out to turn the knob when Tommy caught her hand, placing it instead on his knee, raising an eyebrow suggestively. Vivienne smiled, cocking her head to the side. âDid you really think Iâd be that easy?â
The boy laughed. The sound that boomed around the inside of his brand new Dodge Neon wasnât filled with joy or warmth, but something more sinister and more empty. Viv almost recognized it, sensing the familiarity to her fatherâs laugh. He had never seemed to find anything truly funny, not in the sense that anyone else did. Viv learned to pick up on that, the lack of sincerity in someoneâs voice, in their laughs.
She had to learn how to fake it in her own.
âOf course not, Vivy baby. Not after the chase you put me on just to get ya out here!â He laughed again, pulling her in for a long kiss. This time she let him, pressing herself against his body, feeling how his muscles pulled against the restraint of his skin. Tommy was a jock through and through, his incessant workout schedule showing in his incredibly toned triceps. Vivâs fingers tightened on the muscles, tracing the ligaments as if she were in Mr. Johanssonâs class.Â
Tommy moaned against her mouth. Viv rolled her eyes. It wasnât hard to play the part. But to what end? She was already growing bored with their little play. Tommyâs hands explored her back, crawling under her shirt with more desperation now. His fingers fumbled over the clasp of her bra, ripping the fabric when it wouldnât bend to his brutish will.
âOkay, Tommy. Thatâs a little much, donât you think?â But Tommy seemed to be growing bored with their campout at First Base as well, though not in the same way as Viv. He ignored her question, choosing instead to force his hand up the front of her shirt, grabbing haphazardly at her breasts. Viv couldnât imagine this would be pleasurable to anyone, not even the gaggle of cheerleaders Tommy usually brought out here to the middle of nowhere. But Viv didnât have anything to compare him to. She had never felt the need to date before now, but it was becoming increasingly apparent by her classmateâs stares and her roommateâs comments that she was meant to.
Honestly, she didnât see what all the fuss was about.
âTommy, Iâm so sorry but could we table this for a moment?â
Now I got my foot through the door
And I ain't goin' nowhere
It took awhile to get me here
And I'm gonna take my time
Don't fight that good shit in your ear
Now let me blow ya mind
Instead of obliging her request, Tommy quickly flipped on top of her, growling into her ear. âCâmon baby, lemme get a good look at that banginâ body of yoursâŚâ Tommy sat back, admiring her as if she were a fresh kill, ready to be sliced open and gutted for dinner.
Instead of shying away in fear, however, Vivienne smiled. She recognized that look and no longer had any qualms about hiding her own hunger. She stretched out in the back seat, pushing her chest forward to entice her prey. Once distracted, Viv played one of Tommyâs moves. In a fluid movement that caught Tommyâs breath in his throat, Vivienne was on top of him, straddling his narrow hips. His eyes lit up, feeling as if heâd finally unlocked the secret to the weird girl in class. No doubt he was already planning his celebration speech for his bros back at the frat house.
Nimble fingers traced up his torso, paying special attention to Tommyâs overly defined rectus abdominis, her hand grazing each perfect separation of his six pack.
Question, tell me how you feel about this
Try to control me, boy, you get dismissed
A sadistic smile flickered onto Vivâs face. Holding a finger to her lips, she signaled for Tommy to keep quiet and let her work, a position she had a feeling he rarely got to enjoy. Leaning into the front seat for her purse, Viv quickly withdrew a size 11 scalpel sheâd swiped after Mrs. Johanssonâs class last Thursday. Tommyâs eyes widened, unsure of where Viv was going with this.Â
âSo you uh, like a little pain, huh?â He chuckled nervously. The uneasiness as he realized the potential danger he was in just now dawning on his handsome, oafish face.Â
âI thought you wanted to have a little fun,â She questioned, drawing the blade carefully down her own cheek, careful to keep the blade from slicing her own skin. âI think weâre going to have quite a bit of fun tonight, Tommy.â
Girl I didn't know you could get down like that
Charlie, how your Angels get down like that
Girl I didn't know you could get down like that
Charlie, how your Angels get down like that
Lifting the scalpel in front of her face, Vivienne examined her reflection in the freshly stained silver. She pulled out her lipstick, touching up the bits where Tommy had smeared the color off her lips and onto her porcelain skin. Smiling to herself, she wiped off the blade and placed it carefully back in her bag.
âWell, I certainly had fun.â Vivienne grinned down at what used to be Tommy, his skin peeled back, revealing all the intricacies, faults and perfections of his anatomy. Delicate muscle strands, perfectly juicy organs, aside from his liver which showed considerable damage for a 19 year old. âAnd I think we both learned so much, donât you think?â Viv cocked her head, examining her handiwork. The cuts could have been cleaner, she had nicked a few arteries before she had intended and sliced through some extraneous soft tissue, but altogether a brilliant first attempt. Â
Sitting there in Tommyâs car, Viv finally felt alive. It was like all those moments in her fatherâs shed with neighborhood cats and rabbits had been preparing her for this exact moment. She felt complete. She felt seen. Even if the only one to witness her unmasking was a corpse of a subpar, second string football player. She ran a finger over the well defined sartorius muscle. At least he was a beautiful specimen. A quick glance at the radio clock told her it was getting late, soon it would be dawn and once Tommyâs frat bros peeled themselves off the floor, theyâd be looking for their star idiot. Viv sighed, wishing she had more time with her subject. Before setting to work, she sliced off a piece of Tommyâs perfectly cultivated rectus abdominis and placed it gingerly in an evidence bag. Her classmates always gave her strange looks for keeping supplies in her everyday bags, but at moments like this, she did well to be prepared.
R&B tunes boomed through the radio and Vivienne never felt so free.
I got things on my mind, I never thought I would
I, I want to be bad, you make bad feel so good
I'm losing all my cool
I'm about to break the rules
I, I want to be bad
âYes, it is quite the treat to be graced with my presence.â Peter offered back, kicking the door shut easily behind the woman once she was inside and following her into the living room. Eyes darted around the place, a final glance to decide if it was, in fact, acceptable to have company. So long as the woman stayed away from his basement. Heâd not cleaned up down there for a while, since his last bout of childish tantrum. Shattered glass and dried blood littered that room, and would likely leave quite the impression on the woman. Not a good one, either.Â
Not to mention the chains. Not exactly a fun thing to explain, about how he locked himself up. He was almost willing to bet that the woman wouldnât think it as strange as some of his fellow wolves, or some of his acquaintance, but that didnât mean it was a can of worms he cared to open.Â
The Research Lab wasnât something that Peter thought about often, if he was being completely honest. Perhaps it would have been best to take his thoughts to them, but he also highly doubted he would end up anything besides a corpse used for dissection, and while that wasnât the worst outcome he could think for himself, it didnât get to the core of what he wanted. If a soul still lingered in his broken body, perhaps a cure could save it, and he could finally make amends for all of the wrong he had wrought in the world. Perhaps he could go to Heaven after all. Perhaps it was silly to want something, especially for a werewolf, but it didnât mean he wouldnât consider it.
âSeems a touch too personal to take to an entire team of scientists. Besides, why would I deny you the joy of such research?â A small smirk crossed his face, and he wandered over to his bar, digging around a bit before he found the half-filled bottle of wine that he kept there. He would prefer something stronger, personally, but he wasnât quite sure what the woman wanted to do to him, so taking it easy on his normal alcoholic tendencies might be best. âMay I offer you a glass?â A pause, and he poured two anyway, just in case, before wandering back to the couch and having a seat, waving at her to do the same. âWhere would you like to start? I assure you that I am no stranger to pain, so please donât worry about hurting me. I heal rather quickly.â
Vivienne nodded, unpacking her things. It wasnât the ideal space, but nothing short of bringing the man into one of the college labs would really be ideal, so they would have to settle. Plus, from what sheâd read, he would be able to heal from any illness he might pick up from contamination. Really, what disease could he possibly get that would be worse than the one they were attempting to cure, anyway?
âUnderstandable.â She looked up with a small smile. âFor which I am grateful.â No need to press the subject. She didnât want him running off and offering himself as a subject to anyone else, not before she could get her hands on him. Eventually she would find herself in that Lab, but for now she would learn what she could. Perhaps they offered research grants. Or maybe sheâd simply find a way to break in and find the information she wanted. A puzzle for another day.
Ordinarily, Vivienne didnât drink while in the midst of research, but she wanted to keep the man at ease. âIâll take a glass.â Her mind wandered back to the dive bar and the woman who so rudely assumed she had a stick up her ass and decided against asking what vintage it was. Viv took the glass, barely allowing herself to take a whiff, assuming - correctly - that it would be far below her normal standards.Â
âI thought we might begin with a blood sample. After all, almost all of our genetic information resides there. Iâll be doing some biopsies and histopathological studies to determine the state of the disease and get a handle on what weâre dealing with.â Vivienne smiled, crossing her legs on the couch. âI will of course use what numbing agents I have, for your own comfort, but that is good to know. Several of the samples Iâll need to collect will be done surgically.â She took another short sip, trying to stifle the urge to wrinkle her nose. The wine tasted like watered down, rotten grapes that had been stored in molding cardboard for at least 2 years.Â
âIâll try to keep it as non-invasive as possible. You donât have any allergies, do you?â
âWound Manâ is an illustration which laid out schematically the various wounds a person might suffer in battle. These typically range from blows to the head, to stab wounds and bites by snakes and insects.
The âwound manâ is a figure found in a number of manuscripts and printed books produced in the 15th and 16th century in England.
It had been a few weeks since he had last been in contact with Miss Adair, and with the recent events, he hadnât much thought about the woman at all. Things had been⌠bad. He had allowed himself to fall into a hole of self-pity, had spent several days at a time getting up, going to work, and coming home, not really eating or showering or enjoying life. He had stopped giving any semblance of a shit about anything, besides maybe his staff and making sure that they were functioning correctly.
It had been one of the times that he was scrolling through his phones contacts, thumb hovering over one before tossing it away. He had scrolled too far and come across Vivienneâs name, sparking⌠something in him. It wasnât exactly any kind of excitement, but allowing a scientist to poke around at him might be better than simply⌠existing.
He was quick to pull up the contact and shoot off a message.
[Vivienne 3:27pm It occurs to me that weâve stalled our research, Miss Adair. Are you free tonight for a bit of science? My home is empty and Iâve got plenty of alcohol to offer.]
Once the message was sent, he actually pulled himself off of his couch, started cleaning his house. The dust had collected, trash piled up. It was a bit filthy, enough to make Peter wrinkle his nose. How had he been living like this? Disgusting. Once he was satisfied with the state of his home once more, he took to making himself more presentable. A shower, a shave, he even went so far as to fix his hair to the way he had always preferred it. Though his clothing choice was a bit more tame than it might have been if he were going out, or if he were in a better mood in general. He wasnât quite sure what the woman might want to do, after all. Loose jeans, a tee-shirt, easy to take off if necessary.Â
The cleaning was enough to keep him occupied long enough that he was actually surprised when the knock sounded on his door, and he pulled it open easily, an eyebrow lifting. âEvening. Wonât you come in? I do hope my home is a suitable work space for you.â
The past few weeks had found Vivienne in a flurry of repairs at her home lab. Her office had become her haven, despite all of itâs severely outdated equipment and the whirlwind of clueless colleagues and asinine students barging in with questions at the most inopportune times. It had taken so much effort and careful planning to get her house into a workable state when sheâd first arrived here, and now so much of it needed reparations. She groaned and motioned to make another scathing call to the Hub to try to find a repairman who was actually worth the hours theyâd spend in her home trying to fix what was essentially a medieval centrifuge.Â
At least sheâd been able to fix the front door.Â
Her phone was already in her hand when a text popped up. Mr. Lopez. A jolt of excitement ran through her despite the lack of real progress sheâd made in their deal. Perfect timing.Â
[Mr. Lopez: 3:29pm] My apologies on the delay. Tonight would be splendid.Â
Viv immediately set about preparing her bag with all the necessary supplies for a home visit, vials, syringes, scales and a clean notebook, among a variety of other tools and tranquilizers. She cast one more loathing look at her apartment before setting out, aiming to stop by her office at the college on the way for a few petri dishes and other necessities for the preliminary tests.Â
Within a few hours, Viv arrived at the werewolfâs address and she rapt lightly on the door. âGood evening, Mr. Lopez. So good to see you again.â She took a confident step into the creatureâs home, taking a cursory glance around to see if anything was amiss. It wouldnât do to offer herself up as bait, but she got the feeling Mr. Lopez wasnât on the hunt at the moment. At least not for her. Â
âYes, this will do fine. Ashbourne isnât really teeming with the ideal scientific testing facilities, aside from the Research Lab of course.â The professor made her way towards a table, gently setting down her bag. âWhy didnât you go to them for this sort of assistance? I never asked before.â
It's Not a Fashion Statement It's a Deathwish || Viv & Kolya
âShit.â Vivienne sat at her hastily repaired desk in the overly  wobbly chair and stared at her microscope. Not only was her lab still in shambles thanks to her lovely guest, she had run out of workable samples from the worthless vampire sheâd disposed of far too quickly. Sure, she still had some of Philippeâs blood, but that was what she had been trying to compare to. It was becoming more and more clear that as far as vampires went, one of the more basic and interesting aspects was their bloodline situation.
They werenât separate species, but they had enough differences to warrant some separation. Almost a subspecies, and yet somewhat closer. Vivienne banged her fist on the unstable table, instantly regretting it. There was still so much work to be done, so much left to learn. She still wasnât even sure exactly how to tell different bloodlines apart, nor if they each had their own separate weaknesses. With a huff, the professor ripped open the closest notebook, searching for any pertinent information she may have gathered on potential samples.
It took a moment, but her eyes found the name. Kolya. An employee at the local tailor. It was only a short walk from her apartment, easy enough to get him back to her lab. There had been rumors about his species, enough to raise sufficient interest for the professor to write him down. And yet not enough to learn what bloodline he hailed from. She vaguely hoped it was the one with the rumored venom.
Without wasting another second, Vivienne flew into preparation mode. Out of Dead Manâs Blood, but she had a few opiate poisons left that should be strong enough to subdue an elephant. After her rendezvous with the literal bear, Viv had made sure the first thing she replaced were the restraints, but she double checked them nevertheless. It wouldnât do to bring home a new specimen and have nowhere to put them.
In a matter of a few hours, Vivienne was en route to the shop carrying one of her favorite pantsuits. Sheâd even torn a large chunk in the sleeve to make it all the more convincing. Hell, maybe she could get the vampire to repair it for her before she sliced into him.
âHello?â Vivienne stepped carefully through the door to the shop, her eyes darting about the place, looking for the man sheâd heard so many rumors about.
Bridget had always been studious, and was given a particarly good education for when she was young. However, the last time sheâd been in the world, the language was decidedly not this.Â
Sheâd picked up speaking well enough, and she had no doubt that learning how to read again would be possible - but sheâd been particarly frustrated. Nothing she knew was still in practice, and none of it was in Latin anymore. They never bothered writing down the common languages.Â
Thatâs why she decided to come to the school compound , hoping that someone might be able to help. She hadnât been able to put the words together, and standing almost to still outside she looked at the sign almost willing for something to connect.Â
Sheâd heard the footsteps before she turned, and figured it was useless to try and pretend she knew what it said.Â
âHello - sorry to stop you, but do you know where the English department is?â She tried to appear upbeat, even if the situation itself bothered her.Â
Another day, another class full of idiot children who would never amount to anything. It was hard to teach teenagers about valuable tools for the future when they no longer cared about a future, given that it would have to be in Ashbourne. Vivienne couldnât blame them, but she did so desperately wish they would be a more captive audience. It was days like today when she nearly gave up on teaching, but she then reminded herself of all the perks that came with the job.
Not many, of course. But the resources without prying eyes was definitely a big one.
Checking her watch, Viv finished packing her bags and began to leave the small science wing, wondering if her samples had finally finished processing. It had been far too long if sheâd been using the state of the art equipment she had access to outside of town, but for now, she was just lucky they had a centrifuge to spare at all.
A voice caught her attention on the front steps of the building, and Viv turned to see a timid looking brunette addressing her with a thick accent. âWell I can tell you it isnât this one,â she nodded back to her building. âThis is the Science department.â Viv readjusted her bag on her shoulder, calculating eyes appraising the new face. Oh, what the hell. She had some time to kill. âAre you a student?â
Science was something that had not always held much interest to Fleur over the years. When she had been human, education like that had not been available to her â even for many years after, women just hadnât received the kind of knowledge easily. She had picked up on some over the years. but she still didnât care much for the details. Whether or not feeding was caloric to her was equivalent to nonsense. It was unimportant.
âDo you believe all of the humans who go missing here just die?â Fleur didnât. Perhaps vampires contributed to some of it, but it seemed to be too much for such a small town. She regarded it as magic and didnât think too much deeper about it.
A mocking laugh escaped. âOh, no. There are two reasons a vampire will bite enough vampire. Rage or sex. He is neither.â Henryk hadnât been angry until after sheâd fought back, after all. She wouldnât have cared less about what was going on with him if it was not for the fact that he had attacked her. Any other vampire and she would have turned her head. âYou donât think that Iâm going to give you everything, do you? See how far that knowledge and curiosity takes you.â
Vivienne shrugged at the question. She didnât have those answers. Not yet. Surely there must be some who survived, but had they found a way outside the borders of town? Or were they simply living like brutes in the woods, far away from everyone else. âNo, certainly not. There is plenty of mystery here to suggest otherwise. But it wouldnât be far fetched the assume most of them do, and rather unpleasant deaths at that.â
Viv responded with a tight lipped smile. âI assure you, itâll get me farther than you think. But I appreciate the head start all the same.â So it wasnât uncommon for vampires to feed on others, but only when they were aroused, either by anger or libido. Interesting.Â
A drunken reveller crashed into the garbage bin next to the woman, signaling it to Viv that it was time to leave the parade to the more debaucherous crowd. âItâs been a pleasure,â she offered, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in her tone. While irksome, the woman have proved quite useful, but Viv hoped not to run into her anytime soon.Â
The questions regarding Percy only served to sour Valeriaâs mood that much more. Wringing the girlâs neck for leaving her to run the coffee shop on all her own without so much as a notice sounded like a good idea at the moment. A fleeting fantasy. Valeria would be loath to dirty her hands even for the momentary satisfaction of revenge. She watched as the other woman expertly handled a rowdy customer, making the boy submit with a few sharply aimed words. She could respect sharpness in other women and this one seemed to have it in spades. There was however the small prideful side of her that wanted to say she could handle her shit for brains customers and that even the worst behaved ones were still paying customers.
Instead, she focused on making the woman her drink and sliding it over the counter. It was just as good as Percy would have made it and with the added bonus of no messes left behind. âThatâll be four dollars and fifty cents.â She said, a contrived smile plastered on. Tiredness and irritation had obliterated any ounce of goodwill she had for the day.
âShe quit. Without notice. I guess youâre right about the rudeness.â She continued, answering the womanâs questions finally as she cleaned the counter. Looking up, she took in the womanâs face. She hadnât seen her around before and she wondered if sheâd simply been too engrossed in her own thoughts to notice or if she was new to town.
âThe boy. Thomas. You mentioned having him in your classroom. What is it you teach?â She asked, eyes narrowing as she assessed the brunette.Â
Viv reached into her purse, pulling out a ten and sliding it over to the woman. âKeep the change.â The barista clearly had her hands full, and despite not caring on a personal level, Viv wanted to make sure she was able to get her caffeine fix and get it promptly. She took a long sip of the beverage, breathing in the jolt of caffeine and acknowledging that the quality hadnât slipped.
âIâm sorry she left you high and dry. Iâd say thatâs grounds for firing but, well.â She shrugged, placing her wallet back into her bag. âAh, yes. Thomas.â She nearly spat the name. That boy would be the death of her, if she didnât get around to him first. But there would be nothing to learn from him, she had to remind herself. There was no room for a proletarian like him in her collection.
âAnatomy at the college.â Another shrug. âDespite the vast amount of new anatomy on top of an already blossoming field, I still canât manage to reach some of the youths it seems.â She took another sip. âSorry about your employee troubles. I assume you havenât found a suitable replacement yet?â
Fergus had thought her odd for having worn stilettos at night, but then again, he had been the one hunched over a dead body. Which of them would win the odd reward here? The small reflection of the dim street light that bounced off the blade caught his attention. Â He left his mound to walk over to her and lean over with curiosity. Fergus took the blade and inspected with a curious loft of a brow. âSilver, indeed. I would say.â There wasnât a specimen near him to try it out to see if it was fake or not. Was this a deliberate hit? He should run this by Jack later when he was in the comfort of his own apartment with the sage burning by his living room door. He looked from the corpse to the blade again in his hand more pensively. âA hunter, a deal gone wrong. Maybe one of the watch. â With that thought he definitely would need to contact Jack.
He shrugged indifferent at her question. It was valid of course, because both had the ability of having feral instincts. âDepends on ta shifter. Some like to be more feral.. Are ye familiar with ta Skinwalker tales by chance?â Fergus inquired only having heard a few himself when he was studying shapeshifters with Grace. He pursed his lips thoughtfully, âItâs like you and I are both visually human beings, but what stops you or I from being the cannibal?â
Fergus was turned silent as he took another baggie from his pocket to grab some matter for some experiment later. He turned his head towards his female companion again and contemplated his answer. If the woman did tell of his secret, he could easily just hunt her. Cut her up into small little pieces and take over her teaching job. Â âDepends on the specimen. Most of ta time I keep âem.â He had a quaint box he kept most of the things in. A place he prided himself on that no one would ever find, so really the only guilt was what he spoke of. And even then, he could easily change his own story.
He straightened and started to follow a pattern away from the body, and turned behind to call out to Vivienne. âI should probably tell ye ta truth. The Watch is nay cominâ lass. Just us two and this poor sod.â
âThe Watch?â Vivâs eyes dropped to the severed piece of forearm with itâs flexor digitorum profundus, or what she thought was the flexor digitorum profundus, shredded to pieces, hanging limply on the asphalt. If these were the people tasked with keeping order in this town, she didnât have much hope for the helpless inhabitants. âI suppose it doesnât matter much what they did,â she contemplated aloud. Viv wasnât one for motives. They rarely assisted her in the information she cared about. Unless this pile of organs held some fleshiness unfamiliar to her, she felt herself losing interest.
âIâm not. Iâve been reading a bit, but the resources in town are rather limited.â She didnât bother hiding the bite in her words. The only place sheâd heard of so far with any resources worth a damn was the Research Lab, and she was about as close to getting in there as this victim was to getting up and putting on a rendition of The Music Man.Â
Vivâs eyes narrowed. âIâd say a few things would stop me.â She doubted the man was suggesting he was a cannibal, but then againâŚ
âTrophies?â She prodded, her mind wandering back to her apartment with itâs clean little closet full of the few specimens sheâd collected since coming to town.
âI donât believe the Watch would be our biggest concern here.â She didnât need supernatural senses to smell the putrid scent of decomposition beginning to take hold of the area. A buzz from her pocket alerted her to an incoming message. At least the town had figured out how to give them the power of communication. Her phone had been all but useless the moment she entered the borders.Â
âExcuse me, but Iâll have to be taking this.â Viv took another lingering look at the small mounds of flesh strewn throughout the alley, a bit of wistfulness pulling her back. âI do hope to see you around.âÂ
Hadley had experienced the world in drive by bits and pieces. But sheâd learned what the uptight snobbish people looked like, the things they had in common. Normally they were either boring and muted on the inside, or a hidden well of interesting caught behind a careful exterior. She wasnât sure which type the woman before her was, but either way she was intensely off putting. Â Probably never ate a meal that made a mess on her chin, never wiped her hands off on her designer pants, never went out of the house without every hair follicle being perfectly kept. She was the type of woman that, no matter how much you knew better, was so good at what she did that she made you want to please her, earn the tiniest nod of approval.
The fact that she didnât outright insult the beverage made Hadleyâs insides happier than she wanted to admit to. Â She smirked at the words the woman didnât say, feeling very satisfied with herself. âAnd you donât even have to tip me. Imagine how much better the drink might have been if youâd been a bit nicer about it.â
She laughed out loud, head tilted back, an unapologetic belly laugh. âA high caliber companion? And how many sticks do they need up their ass to meet that caliber huh? Sounds like you just found a fancy way to reword that you want someone around to kiss your ass.â Just to bother the woman all the more, Hadley made a point of grabbing a handful of bar nuts and popping them in her mouth. Â To the uptights the idea of communal bar snacks was bile inducing. Â âHonestly, I think youâre shit out of luck here. Pandemonium is a little more upscale in term of decor but the patrons are as likely to get into a fistfight as the ones here. Youâre best bet is probably Black Diamond Club. Jazzy speakeasy vibes. Perfect environment for you to sit pretty and look down your nose at everyone around you, youâd be right at home.â
Viv was used to people appraising her, to judging her based on her interests or her demeanor, but long ago sheâd resolved herself to not let it get to her. She created a shell to cover the softer parts of her, the few that hadnât been beat out of her. By now, the squishy essence of the girl who cared and cried when her peers had poked and prodded at her and called her weird had been all but crumbled to ash. She no longer needed the shell to protect her.Â
Viv could protect herself.
The professor waved a dollar in front of the woman tauntingly, prepared to slide it back into her pocket but thought better of it. Instead she threw it over to the other side of the bar. âThink about how much bigger that would have been if you hadnât been so snide,â she returned, a sly smile on her face.Â
Viv leaned back, crossing her legs. âOh, I require a minimum of at least six sticks.â The woman laughed at her own joke. âIâll give this place one thing, at least it doesnât pretend to be something itâs not. Blaring lights that say âShit Hole!â are posted pretty much everywhere.â
Another sip of her drink brought back memories of martinis long past. From her first terrible drink in some dingey bar off campus, to a high class vermouthy beverage in the most luxurious hotel bar sheâd ever seen. This amateur hadnât gotten the proportions too far off, though about herself, she felt she was dead wrong.Â
Aside from the suggestion of the jazzy speakeasy. That one sounded much more her speed.
âBut how else would I really get to know the place I have to call home from now on, hm? Your suggestion sounds much more my speed, but look at all these very colorful creatures.â Viv waved her hand absently, gesturing to the rather diverse cast of characters. âYourself included. I take it youâre not allowed to be back there?âÂ
For a second, Philippe gave her offer some thought, but in the end settled for her silence. âI donât have questions.â He decided that he didnât care enough to worry. Ashbourne was seeping through his skin and making him feel almost apathetic about his present and the future. If she was brewing a weapon to use against vampires and his blood was the secret ingredient, so be it. What did he care? So long as he survived, then others may perish. He wouldnât bat an eyelash.Â
The taste of her blood clung to his lips. Vivienne was an odd creature, but he didnât fault her for her curiosity. Philippe had always seen that as a sign of life and strength. âGood, my social life is stale as it is, I donât need to be shunned for flirting with the enemy.â Not that she was the enemy, exactly, but vampires tended to think themselves above other creatures and to them, specially to Regium, any other creature was an enemy. Specially werewolves, and the feeling was mutual.
âIs there anything else I can do for you tonight, love?â
âWell if you ever change your mindâŚâ Her arms outspread in front of her, suggesting she was an open book. Nothing could be further from the truth, but Viv found she enjoyed Philippeâs company and wouldnât begrudge him another chat in the future. So far, heâd been one of the more pleasant citizenâs in town that sheâd come across. The irony wasnât lost on her.
Her hand absently lifted to her neck, testing to see if the small wound had clotted yet. Satisfied that it would heal quickly, Viv began packing up her things. âIf you ever want the enemy to spice things up at one of your affairs, you just let me know.â She winked, not needing to be well versed in the ways of his kind to know it was unlikely that sheâd ever be invited to such a gathering unless she was the main course.
âI believe our work is done here.â The professor stood and leaned over, her lips grazing the vampireâs icy cheek in a formal farewell kiss. âThank you again, you donât know how grateful I am for your assistance.â
