Page 8 of Midnight Whispers
“Get the fuck out of here, Parker. Or I will force you out and you know I will.” She stands there, cocks her hip to the side, and crosses her arms. Flora has always been a free spirit, and she is one of a kind in this small town, but I’ve always thought she is absolutely stunning. She has her hair split down the middle, one side is black and the other is icy blonde. Her fingernails are always shaped in the stiletto style and dark colors, right now they're forest green. If it wasn’t for her nails, her finger tattoos would command attention to her hands. “You heard me asshole. Get out.” She opens the door and impatiently taps the toe of her combat boots.
Reluctantly, Parker stumbles out of the coffee shop, mumbling something under his breath as he walks onto the street. Flora shuts the door behind him, locks it, and holds up her middle finger through the glass before turning to me with a raised brow.
“Why was he in here?” she asks angrily.
“The same reason he always randomly pops up. He wanted to let me know what a mistake I made by leaving.” I ran myhand over the opposite wrist, now burning where his fingers had dug into my skin.
Her eyes shine with rage. “He fucking hurt you, didn’t he?”
“I’m fine, but can you stop saying the ‘f word’ so much?”
“Sorrymom.” Flora rolls her eyes and smiles, putting her elbows down on the main counter.
“Are you going to work?” I ask as I make Flora’s favorite green tea latte, topped with foamy almond milk.
“Yeah. I’m getting so sick of bartending at The Tipsy Sailor. I swear, Lil. I was destined for things bigger than Emolyn Cove.”
I let out a small chuckle because she’s right, she was destined for bigger and better things. “Here’s your latte. You better get to work before you're late… again.”
She blows me a kiss and walks out of the shop, waving as she walks past the windows.
I finish cleaningup the mess from the day in the shop and get everything ready for tomorrow. One of the few additional employees I have is opening, so I want to make sure that all the things they need are back in their designated spot and easy to find. After I’m satisfied with the cleanliness of everything, I turn off all the lights and set the alarm.
It’s nearing sundown as I ride my bike toward home. There’s a chill in the air and the evening mist has started to roll in from the sea. Most of the businesses are already shut down and a good majority of the people in town are already home and, in their beds, so it’s quiet. I’ve never been one who enjoys the chaos of crowds or the busyness of big cities—unlike Flora,who thrives in it. Her mom used to say we were two halves of a whole because we’re so different.
I ride my bicycle through the curves of the mountain side road that leads to my cottage. Once I get near my gate, I jump off my bike and pull it through. The iron is old and rusted by the salty sea air, so it creaks as it swings open.
Flora turned on the porch light before she left, so I don’t have to walk up to a dark entryway. She’s constantly concerned for my safety, but nobody comes out this far into the mountain, so I’ve never had to think twice. Well, except for those who live just past me. There are only a couple of houses near me that could be considered neighbors, but their houses make my cottage look like a shack in comparison to size.
All three of the plots of land have been passed down through the generations of the three original families, but the last owner of mine never married or had children. The other two however, have since updated the original homes to more modern styles. Both demolished the homes that once sat on the original land.
The cottage that sat at the very top of the mountain belonged to the Lamont family. The original had always been my favorite, but in the last couple of years it was demolished and replaced with a behemoth of a mansion. The size was unnecessary, truthfully. To my knowledge the new owner, and the only descendant of Cornelius Lamont, has no family. Of course, I can’t be sure because he is very reclusive, and we don’t see much of him in town.
I slip as I make my way up the stairs, scraping my knee on the concrete. My knee burns at the pressure as I stand, limping my way up to open the door to the cottage. There’s a noise in the background that startles me; my heart is racing as I slam the door behind me.
After turning on the lights inside the entryway, I set mythings in their places before walking into the bathroom to wash the day away. My clothes land in a pile beneath me as I take off my skirt and cardigan. The warmth of the water is welcome as I step into the tub, the steam filling the small bathroom quickly.
As reluctant as I am to leave the shower, I turn off the water and grab my towel, drying off before walking to my room to get dressed.
It was important to me that my room embodied me, so it’s very green and beige but smells like a combination of old books and flowers. I lay down in my bed and grab my remote to turn on my small television. Typically, I prefer to read at night, but exhaustion is already taking over my body, so sleep will overtake me soon. After I scroll through my options, I settle on a recently released true crime documentary.
As soon as it starts, I lay down and wrap myself into a cocoon of my blanket. It doesn’t take long before the heaviness overtakes my eyelids.
4
I venture furtherinto the woods than I typically do. My body aches with need for sustenance, for the blood of an innocent animal. Typically, I like to space out my kills of humans. Even if the hunted humans are the scum of the earth, I can’t take a chance of too many people disappearing at once. It would draw too many suspicions.
The forest blurs around me as I run through the trees, keeping my senses open to any possiblesnacks. As a vampire, my speed is unmeasurable. But even my speed is second to my sense of smell. It took me years to learn how to properly scent out my next kill; now it’s second nature. It doesn’t take my nose long to lock onto something twenty yards away. I turn my attention that way, moving so quickly I am hardly touching the ground. As I get closer to the animal, I realize it’s a mountain lion. It’s not my favorite, but it will have to do.
I don’t feel remorse as I leap and land on its back. She fights against me, snarling and snapping her jaws over her shoulder. I admire the fight she has in her, but it still takes no strength at all for me to break her neck. Her blood is thick and hot as it glidesdown my throat. I know it will only satisfy my thirst for a short period of time, but it’s better than nothing.
After I’m content with my meal, I leave the mountain lion’s body on the forest floor and begin my walk back to the manor. These long walks, where I am alone with my thoughts, are my favorite. Even if they are what haunts me most of the time. A sudden gust of wind flows in my direction and the fragrance of peony and jasmine slams into me.
Intoxicated by the scent, I mindlessly follow the direction it came from. I hadn’t even realized I was so close to a cottage, but only after moments of walking through the trees did I discover it tucked within the forest. I walk around the side of the building, making sure to walk as light as possible as to not scare whoever resides here.
It’s a woman. She looks at the front door and sighs in relief as she walks through the rusty iron gate pushing a bicycle. Any thought in my mind disappears as I look her over, taking her in beauty and studying her movements, watching closely at her small mannerisms. Like the way she tucks the curl of her chestnut hair behind her ear as she is searching through her satchel to find the keys to her front door or the way she bites her lip when she’s trying to focus.
She doesn’t know it yet, but shewillbe mine.