Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Savannah Georgia, an old mossy harbor town built on centuries of southern hospitality and charm. A constant beacon of history and love of the arts. With shops, museums, schools, theaters, homes, restaurants, and businesses…streets lined with mossy live oaks, every building surviving hundreds of years of its own existence, lush green squares on every other street, the inescapable wet summer heat, and the historic cobblestone of the famous Riverstreet. Every corner of the city honoring the near-ancient beauty of itself.
A peaceful little old city on the river…or so many tourists found it. Had it not gained a reputation for its nightlife and lenience with alcohol, perhaps it could have been a bit more loved and inhabited. With at least a bar on every block and a homeless person on every other, it made the streets just as dangerous as they were alluring. It was one of those: a city that never slept.

But, despite the contemporary celebrations and tourist favorites, a new title was adopted. Much like many old places did, Savannah fell victim to superstition and named herself “America's Most Haunted City”. A tourist vacuum, had you asked anyone with an opinion. It was dumb, truly because people only came for two things with one thing in common: spirits…undead ones, and the liquid ones that require your government ID.

Even with that said, the history was rich and the stones that built the city hold knowledge. Superstition and legend are all fun and games until you’re a resident. So many come in skeptics and leave with a new point of view, but providing an explanation was out of the question because what else will bring in the money?

Ghosts, demons, Boohags, banshees, vampires…it was all dumb; some kind of leash to keep people entertained and waste their time and money on things to prevent boredom. At least, that's how Annette saw it. Just a bunch of dumb stories, washing out the beautiful history of the city, and that history was the whole reason she was a resident. It seemed as if everywhere she went there was something new to learn — some new fact to uncover. As a historian, many of her studies consisted of the late 19th century leading into the World Wars, but anything that wasn’t the present caught her attention. Savannah just so happened to be the one place to spark her interest after her first few years of college. It seemed to hold some kind of livable charm.

Theo, her boyfriend of two years came along with her, the both of them inhabiting a small flat on the edge of the Historic District. There, Theo spent most of the day working as a bartender at the Marriott on Riverstreet, and he spent many nights celebrating the joys of nothing with his coworkers and friends. Annette, on the other hand, dedicated a lot of her time to her passions: guiding historic tours, researching, and trying to get by much like any other woman in her early twenties.

“Chad’s birthday tonight. Be back late” said the note, formerly on the fridge, now between Annette’s fingers.

She sighed, setting the note on the counter. Between the long day at work and coming home to yet another night of no boyfriend, Annette was losing steam. Every single year, August to October was a shit show in a town like this; everyone just had to pile in, looking for ghosts and stories to take home and forget about later. It was too hot, too crowded, and too rambunctious almost every hour of the day for anyone to maintain any kind of motivation. All she wanted — no that's too pitiful — all she needed was a bit of comfort…warmth maybe? Or perhaps that was too much to ask for.

“Oh well…” were the words ringing in her head, single-handedly battling every thought that made her question if what people call ‘following their dreams’ was a mistake on her part. It might have been, but changing everything she built for herself would have been twice as painful. She learned that just accepting the things that came to her was the only way to stay on her feet, so she lit a candle, stripped off her uniform that was drenched in sweat and residual memories from the long day, and took her worries to a warm shower.
It was a wonder Theo was never home. Anette truly was a beautiful girl — maybe not so much to the male gaze — but she wasn’t unattractive. She had a figure, blue-green eyes, a thin nose, and long pale blonde hair that fell in waves to the middle of her back. Nothing special. If Theo was going to pay any attention to her anymore, she thought maybe it would have been her looks, but, even at her best, he wasn’t a man of many words.

Out of the shower she emerged and into some cozy clothes: a black oversized T-shirt and an equally large pair of sweatpants. One more night of mindlessly surfing through the television where every channel was celebrating with some string of Halloween films, scrolling through social media, and nibbling on whatever little treats were in the cabinet never hurt anyone.

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Local resident found murdered in Forsyth Park…

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Wait. Hold on. That could be interesting. Headlines for some kind of criminal scandal here were never scarce, and prices had to be paid when moving into populated areas, but it's also not every day you see a word as strong as “murder” on a headline…especially not as violent as the one she was reading.

He was found a few days ago, identified by a tourist couple who claimed he had attempted to mug them. He was successful in his attempts, and the couple escaped unharmed; however, his successions were found fruitless when he was found dead the next morning with a broken jaw and nearly half of his throat ripped out. At that, she shivered. The same town…a man she's likely crossed paths with…what a thought.

She sent it to Theo. “Be safe!”

Meanwhile, at one of the many bars in this chaotic mess of a place, Theo was doing not that. Drinking, partying, and celebrating his dear sweet precious friend Chad, he wasn’t checking his phone. Nobody cares about a dead guy when they think they won't be next, the music is mind-numbing, and your friends are eyeing a girl across a bar.

“Oh, wait hold on— “ He set his drink on the bar, pulling his phone out.

One new message from Annette. He opened it. Thumbs up.

“What's that?” One of his friends yelled over the music.

“Annette. Sent me a message. Some article.” He spoke back, brushed it off, and put his phone back in his pocket.

“Ah.”

“Another dumb…I don’t know— “ he picked his drink up. “Some news report. Guy got desecrated over in Forsyth. Freaks her out— “

“Hey!” Another one of their friends ran up in a frantic sweat. “Told this chick over there I'd buy her a drink. Can’t let this one slip. You got a roofie?”

As if nobody would bat an eye…

Theo and his friend automatically started patting down their pockets for anything that could work. No luck for Theo, but his friend pulled out a crumpled-up little bag to discreetly hand over.

“Thanks, man.” He took it and, with a slap on the arm, ran off through the cramped room.

“Shit… He better be careful” Theo said in a tone that was both amused and a bit jarred. “He keeps that up, somebody’s gonna catch him.”

“Naaaaah. He’ll be alright. People get away with it all the time…” He watched their friend lean over the bar for a drink handed to him by one of the bartenders before returning his attention. “So, what's with Annette again?”

“She just gets to reading the news, and it's all a bunch of over-exaggerated reports, and it starts messing with her head. It's why she quit working the night tours.” He took a sip. “And she doesn’t like it when I’m out late because she doesn’t like to be alone.”

“Oh.” He replied, reacting in a way that most people would when they had no intention of getting involved. Not his circus, not his monkeys. He laughed nervously. “Okay…”

And the night went just as any stereotypical birthday night at a bar would go. The not-so-slow progression of drunkenness, mindlessly and incorrectly shouting the lyrics to the overrated music blasting through the speakers, getting tossed around the dance floor by any stranger that believed Jack Daniels was the key to fighting God, and letting loose to its full extent for a buddy who was too exited about his age.

With a drink raised in the air, and barely any common sense left, Theodore sang along to I Was Made For Lovin’ You — which was being blasted through every corner of the bar. Funny song to be playing, given his choice of evening.

***

From the nightstand, Annette’s phone lit up, vibrating. She rolled over sleepily, wondering what anyone could possibly want from her at this hour. She picked it up, the light from the screen making her squint. It was Theo. She picked it up knowing that he was probably drunk, and one of two things was about to happen. Either he was going to inform her that he would be crashing at a friend's house because he was too drunk to try and make it home, or he was going to ask to be picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hey babe.” He replied, audibly drunk. “They closed the bar, and everyone got kicked out…you wanna come pick us up~?”

“What? Can't anyone get a ride home?” She replied, half awake. This was not an uncommon occurrence.

“Chad doesn’t wanna drive — said he doesn’t wanna wreck. We’re not far…just a few squares down.”

“Theo it's… one in the morning. Can't any of you get a cab or an Uber?”

“Ann— I don’t wanna spend any more money. Can you please just pick us up? A couple of the guys can crash on the couch, and we will be out in the morning. I promise.”

Annette took a moment. She rubbed her face with a blend of agitation and sleepiness before sighing… “Where are you?”

“We can meet you on Telfair Square…”

“…Okay… I'll be there in a minute”

Against her wishes, Annette rolled out of bed and threw on Theo’s old, grey, Guns n’ Roses crewneck before grabbing her keys and forcing herself out the door.

***

She pulled up the car near one of the many paths that cut through the square. From there, she could see the small group of men stumbling around and laughing about God knows what. With them was a girl: a blonde girl in a camo print romper who appeared just as hazed if not a little bit more. Annette had never seen her before, but she wouldn’t be too far off to assume that one of the boys had picked her up at the bar.
She turned off the car in suppressed agitation and got out to gather these adults as if she were herding cats.

“Heeey. There she is!” Theo noticed his wonderful girlfriend who so kindly offered to pick them up.

Annette gave him a closed-mouth smile, trying to press the fact that she was not happy to be doing anything other than sleeping at this hour. Still, she continues forward.
All of the guys greeted her with drunken excitement: nobody she hadn’t briefly met before…other than the poor girl who looked like she might hit the concrete at any given moment.

“Hey. You’re alright with us crashing with you right?” One of the guys asked, all while very loosely holding his leftover plastic cup.

“Yeah. Yeah…don’t worry about it. Its alright.” She said, shooting Theo a look.

“Yeah, she's cool. She's always cool.” Theo said, missing the glance entirely and wrapping an arm around Annette’s shoulders.

Annette didn’t think much of it. This was not her first run around the dance floor with a boyfriend who likes to drink, and his friends who typically kept their respect.
The guys laughed, and Annette gathered herself into a bit more of a motherly approach.

“How many of you are coming with me? There’s room on the couch…if you’re planning to crash”

“Just those two.” Theo pointed loosely at Andrew and Johnny, and they made dumb little fist pumps in response. “Chad says he has to get home; he’s got a little lady waiting for him.” Theo said with a little mocking pout.

“Lucky girl, I’m sure.” Annette replied mindlessly. This was not her ideal situation. Had you told her, the day she met Theodore, that she'd be picking him up on the side of the road at one in the morning, she would have never believed it. But, supposing that “love oversees all”, there really was no way around it. “And what about that one?”

“Who? Oh…yeah that's Tracy.” Theo replied.

“…Is she alright?” Annette asked, noticing that she was barely coherent and standing only by the assistance of Kevin’s grip.

“Yeeeeah. Kevin bought her a drink or three. Put a little help in it.”

“Oh my god.” Annette said, pushing his arm off of her shoulder. “Theodore, did you drug her?”

“Nawww. It's nothing that’ll hurt her. It's Johnny’s. Kevin was just trying to get a little action.” One of the guys said, brushing off the severity of it, and the other guys laughed.

“Kevin can get her home in the mornin-“ Theo began before Annette interrupted.

“—No! She’s clearly not well. You can’t just drug a girl and try to bring her h—“

“Ann. Baby, calm down. Shell be just fine. It's just one night…and you remember what it was like don’t you? Having fun, letting loose—“ His tone shifted into something more persuasive. It wasn’t often he was affectionate, or even home to try to be, but something about him grew more…how should one say…doting.
At that, all of the guys, including Tracy, chuckled. Everyone at this age was always down for a good party, but Annette grew out of it faster than most people her age. It just didn’t meet her interest. She wanted a life, she wanted a family, she wanted a job that she enjoyed, and she wasn’t afraid to work for it.

“Theo. No. You’re all drunk. I am tired. She needs to get hom— “ Annette began.

“—Partying. You don’t remember all the fun we had…” He continued on, the space between them slowing coming to a close.

“Theodore. Stop it— “

“Me and you…Kevin’s just tryin’ to do the same.”

The laughter from all of the guys picked up a little bit, as Theo absentmindedly was putting on a show. Her space was now being blatantly invaded by Theo’s attempts at being a better boyfriend

“Theo. No. Call an uber— “

“Annie, baby. Don’t you miss it?”

“Theodore— “

“I haven’t been home. Let me make it up to you— “ he was now in a position that was way too close for comfort, and Annette was now nearly powerless a man who was both drunk and at least a foot taller than she.

“Theo. Stop it!” She said, making her best effort at fighting back without doing too much damage.

His arms kept Annette’s waist trapped in an embrace, and his hands wandered to places he hasn’t bothered paying attention to in quite some time. This… this was something she craved, and almost had to beg for, but didn’t want…no…not like this.
One of the guys tried to fend for her, but it was very quickly washed out by the laughter and support of the others.

Annette made numerous attempts at peeling herself from her partner’s grasp, but it truly was futile as his face stayed buried in her neck. The only sounds from the square were those of struggle and laughter, and Annette was about to just give up. It was hopeless…but at least she was getting the attention she so craved; even if it wasn’t what she wanted.

Suddenly…there was a rustle in the trees that canopied the square, and something fell out of it, landing on two feet right behind the group of guys. In the blink of an eye, another came right with the first, and Kevin was swept off his feet and shoved into a tree where he was drained of all, if not most of his blood. As a result, Tracy too lost her balance and landed on the brick pathway.
All of the guys stumbled and shouted at sudden encounter. Theo immediately let go of Annette as she stumbled backwards, landing right on her hind end. Everyone tried scattering but running while drunk is never the most successful task, and each guy was targeted by whatever these two…things were. Theo tried making it to the car, but he was taken by the collar and dragged back into the square. It was there where Annette, the only sober one, caught a glimpse of what was doing all of this slaughter.

The one who had its grasp on her partner was a slender figure with long wine-red hair and eyes that appeared to be a bright, luminous gold. It was a difficult assessment to make when it was practically ripping the artery from Theodore’s neck.
Annette’s chest rose and fell as she felt that she couldn’t get to her feet quick enough, so she backed away and tried to make her escape for the car.

The red head dropped Theodore’s limp body onto the pavement and wiped her mouth clean of the liquid that was unfortunately blood.

“Eugh. God.” She made face. “Christ. Thats a lot of alcohol…” The redhead said.

The second “thing” appeared to be a young man with a dusty brown, short, shaggy haircut; something similar to a subtle mullet. He wore brown baggy cargo pants and a loose, long sleeve, brown and white baseball tee.
He walked over to Tracy, helping her up as she was in no state to be doing it herself. Annette watched, still scooting towards her car, but his attention was redirected towards the redhead who spoke up, stepping closer.

“Oh relax. Im not gonna kill you.” She said, her slender figure - that was covered in all black - stepping closer.

Annette wasn’t positive on how one is supposed to respond to such an encounter, so she just stayed there, wide-eyed, her back eventually meeting the car door.
The red head stopped about 6 feet away from Annette: who looked like she might pass out from shock.

“What do you want from me?” She blurted out breathlessly.

“Oh yeah. Heard that one before. I told you I’m not gonna kill you—”

“don’t come any closer, or I’m calling the police!”

The redhead chuckled. “What are they gonna do? Cuff me?”

There was a pause. Annette wasn’t sure what to do. She realized that the redhead was right. She can't call the police, what are they gonna do? fire a couple of guns. This chick just wiped out three guys in under thirty seconds. Instead, she sat there staring up at this woman whom she had no idea what to think of.
The redhead realized that this was not turning out to be a fruitful conversation, nor was it really supposed to. She, too, wasn’t exactly sure where to go from here, and she found herself looking down at the frightened girl with conflicted expression. She cleared her throat.

“Right…Go home. Its not safe to be out this late.”

Soon enough, the young man in the overly-earthtoned clothes spoke up and thats where Annette and the red head’s direction immediately went.

“Jo, help me get her out of here.” He said with Tracy’s arm draped over his shoulder.

She looked back at Annette with a conflicted expression, and then she peeled away to go and help the other. Backwards, she stepped before turning fully and making her way over. Annette watched as the redhead walked away, and she quickly scrambled to her feet and unlocked the car.

“You get her home. I’ll do cleanup and meet you at the river…” The brunette said.

The redhead wrapped Tracy’s other arm around her shoulders as her friend was saying something, but she found herself distracted: briefly looking over at the girl who was frantically getting into her car.

“Yeah. Okay.” She replied, and they went their separate ways.

***
Annette walked into her apartment, shutting the door with her back. Motionless she stood there staring into the kitchen. The apartment was not huge: you entered into the living room, the kitchen was adjacent to that, the hallway was to the left, and that lead to the bedroom and bathroom. There was a small dining room that was also adjacent to the living room, and, near that was a small storage closet. Her eyes moved to scan her surroundings…nothing had changed. It was all the same. The wax burner was still on by the tv, her Bonaventure Cemetery statue was still on the shelf, her laptop was still plugged in on the counter, Theo wasn’t there, and the clock she received from her father was still ticking on the wall. An odd feeling it was, truly.

Now what?

Chapter Text

The moon was bright where the Savannah River met the grassy banks. Arlo and Jo, the two… creatures that just ripped an entire group of drunks to shreds in the blink of an eye, had loaded up the car with the bodies and taken them to a cemetery a few miles outside of the city. It was old — probably the oldest in the area — and it was filled to the brim with tombs, headstones, plots, and mausoleums that dated all the way back to the 1700’s. The roads were rocky and lined with giant oak trees: each and every one dripping with eerily beautiful clusters of Spanish Moss, and each plot was overseen by a carefully carved statue. It was like an enchanted forrest of thousands of memorials.

Bonaventure Cemetery was 160 acres of death, and its population would only grow.

“Forgot to tell you.” Arlo began, dragging one of the carcasses to toss into the river. “Ive got Ellie over tomorrow night. Do you…care giving up the house for a few hours?”

“No. no. Thats fine.” Jo replied, dragging another over. “I was planning on going out anyway.”

“Great. Didn’t wanna make it weird or anything…you know how it gets.”

“Yeah.” Jo said, but she wasn’t all present despite the vague amusement in her tone. “I understand.”

“I haven’t seen her in weeks, and I might actually claw my eyes out if I have to go another day. It's an actual nightmare.”

“Go get em tiger.” She said, although, part of her attention seemed to be missing.

Arlo pushed the corpse, that had a small number of heavy stones tied to his waist, into the water and looked turned to look at his redheaded companion with furrowed brows.

“What?” Jo inquired, dropping the corpse that she was handling, and clearly talking notice to Arlo’s concern. She hadn’t said anything rude, had she?

“You, okay?” He said, trying to keep it light.

“Yeah…? Why, is something wrong?” Jo said with an expression of vaguely nervous confusion as she crouched down to begin tying some stones to the next guy’s waist.

“I don’t know. You’re just a bit…off again”

“Off?”

Arlo looked at her with a highly unamused expression. Having been companions for God knows how long means that hiding things from one another is unachievable.

“Okay, spit it out. What’s got you this time?” He urged her bluntly.

“Nothing. Its dumb. Don’t worry about it.” She mumbled back.

“I still think you should say it.”

“It's really not that important.” She tried very hard to reassure him that it was not nearly as big of a deal as it was made out to be.

“Coward.” He murmured, walking over to grab the last body, for the sake of light conversation.

Jo looked over at him with a nearly offended expression, but at least he managed to somewhat crack her. If there was anything that Jo refused to be, it was a bloody coward. Well— bloody, perhaps. But certainly not a coward.
Still, she didn’t answer. She just shook her head, trying not to let Arlo see the smile he had provoked.

“Go on.” He pressed.

“Naw, its stupid…”

“Aaaaand you’ve gone soft.”

“Soft! Please.” She pretended to let it slide off her back. “Im anything but.”

She paused.

“Im just…I don’t know. Its just dumb.” She stood up and dragged the cadaver towards the bank and slid him into the water. “I guess it’s all coming back to me. The whole idea of killing people and shit…its…not what it used to be.”

“What do you mean…oh my god, Jo, does this have to do with that girl in the square?”

“What? No! No, it's not that…I just think I scared her—”

“Oh my god it is! You can't lie to me.”

“Its really not— its just— its not everyday you watch your boyfriend get mauled right in front of you. I mean- I wouldn’t be happy if it happened to me!”

“Yes, but men annoy you, and you refuse to talk to women, so you’re good.”
Jo looked at him like a child that was doing something that it was not supposed to be doing, but it was deliberately doing it anyway. “And! He was a horrible fucking person. I think we did the right thing.” He reassured her.

“I still don’t feel…great…about it.” She admitted, mostly to herself.

“Jo. You’re fine. There are so many worse things to do than kill a potential predator. Don’t worry about it.”

Jo made a face, as she usually did when she felt that she was entering territory that she did not belong in, and they continued on with the night as they usually would on any other night.

***

(Somewhere close to) a few days after the incident, Annette would be found gathering her things and heading for the door in her khakis and bright orange and green uniform polo. Thats what one gets when they work for a tourist company: you get to wear ugly uniforms that make you feel like a human beacon of over dramatized stories and a very unappealing shade of orange.

She opened the door, bag in hand, prepared to shut and lock the door, but she noticed something at her feet. It was a little black and orange bag; one of those shitty little candy bags people buy from the supermarket for trick or treaters. Okay…

Annette reached down and picked it up with zero intention of just leaving it there. On it, a post it note.

“Sorry for killing your boyfriend”

Annette looked at the note, her face contorting into something that resembled both confusion and disturbia. She looked up and around before going back inside and setting it on the counter.

Well, thats not something you want to receive at any point in time… especially when you’re the only one that knows how and why your boyfriend went missing. How might this play out…? Would the police get involved? What if they find the note? Will she get questioned…or perhaps ARRESTED?

All of these things, Annette thought of, but they haven’t happened… yet, so she decided that the best route to take was to remain somewhat close to unphased.

***

The night air was still warm from the humid Georgia heat, and it would still be months before mother nature decided to unleash the briskness of what fall was supposed to feel like. Once that came around, it would remain frigid up until she decided otherwise. Thats simply what came with southern hospitality. Things were always received in abundance.

Annette clocked out of her shift, cutting the warehouse lights, and leaving the rest to maintenance. She made her way out of the back door, taking the obvious precaution to lock it behind her. Down the street, she worked her way back to her apartment with her bag in hand. In it, probably notes and other personal items, and it wouldn’t be out of character for her to keep a couple of small history books. Knowledge was never a crime, and she was a tour guide after all.

Everything around her seemed as serene as it could this time of year. She lived on the edge of the city, meaning that she was clear of most of the tourist-y shenanigans that were happening on either Riverstreet or Broughton: Two places you did not want to be after 9:00. Here, the night was still. A few cars would occasionally pass her by, the moss that hung from the live oaks billowed in the light wind, the old street lamps reflected a yellow-orange against the brick pathway, a couple or two would pass by on their night walk, and the moon remained a giant marble of white against the navy sky.

Annette reached in her bag for her phone, falling into the unfortunate human habit of resorting to a screen when left unoccupied. Perhaps there were some messages that she needed to catch up on white she was working….

…oh, who was she kidding. Theo was gone, but it’s not like he would make an effort to check in if he wasn’t. He was always working. She was too busy to keep up with her friends from college, and they had families now; kids and partners. The older one gets, the more life loses its luster. Annette was always working anyway, so it would have never worked out…even if she really did care for it to.

“Care for some company?” Jo said, jumping down from who knows where. Anette wasn’t paying enough attention to actually catch that.

“Oh holy—shit!” She yelped, stumbling back.

She realized who it was exactly and was not entirely fond of the encounter.

“Oh christ. It's you.” Annette straightened herself up.

“Good evening to you too—” Jo replied sarcastically, hands in tucked into the pockets of her leather jacket.

“What do you want.” Annette said as she tried to push past and continue her journey back home.

“To talk.”

“Yeah? Maybe you should have come up with a better way to begin that than sneaking up on someone who is alone, on the street, at 11:00 at night.”

Jo watched as Annette picked up her pace down the sidewalk, and she made about half of an effort to follow somewhat closely behind.

“Alright. Okay. I can see how thats ineffective.” Jo replied casually.

“Great. Glad we can agree on that”

“So, you’re in no mood to talk. Got it. But I would love to get a word in, so are you just going to keep walking or—”

“Keep walking.” Annette retorted with little hesitation.

“Well, that didn’t take much thought-“

She turned briefly to look at Jo.

“-Why would I want to talk to you? I watched you kill like six people, including my boyfriend. The last thing I want to do is be talking to you right now.” And then she turned right back to making her way home.

“Whoa. Hey. Hate to break it to you, babes, but your boyfriend was neck deep in a bottle of bourbon — and his little buddies were no different. Between you and the chick in the camo, who knows what they would have done—”

“So, they were drunk and made stupid decisions. Thats not a reason to kill people, and it's not your problem.”

“Yeah. ‘Not my problem.’ I was doing you a favor. Come look at it from my point of view. Give me a call when you change your mind.” Jo quipped.

“And the candy bag?” Annette said as if Jo had left a bag of slurs on her doorstep.

“Oh. My bad. What would you have preferred? A box of chocolates and a bouquet?”

All Annette knew to do was scoff. She shook her head and kept walking. From there, they continued to bicker all the way back to the apartment where Annette was only driven by the peace she was about to meet within her own home.

“I don’t know what you want from me, but it would be greatly appreciated if you would please just give up and leave. I don’t know who you are or what your motives might be, but I am tired, I have had a very long week, and I would love for this conversation to be over.” Annette said, making her way up the porch stairs.

“You know, it might not kill you to actually just hear me out—”

“And it might not kill you to figure out what ‘I do not want to talk to you’ means, yet here we are.” She replied, unlocking and opening the door. “Now, this has been a wonderful conversation. I can only hope we will be able to continue it some other time.”

Before Jo could even bother getting a word out, Annette hit her with a final “goodnight” and quickly shut the apartment door.

What a fucking disaster that was. Annette wasn’t exactly wrong though; killing someone’s partner isn’t exactly the most charming introduction, nor is it the way to handle a predicament such as that, but whats done is done. All Jo managed to take home was the ability to say that she tried.

As soon as Annette had managed to shut the door, a tense sigh had left her lips. As if this week couldn’t become anymore of a nightmare…now the thing that killed her deadbeat man won't leave her alone. It was like something out of some freakish novel that you’d find in the depths of TikTok, and Annette’s opinions on the situation were only beginning to blur together. Perhaps… if she’s lucky… it was just one rut in the road she could just move on from.

But let's be for real. Nobody would be here if that was the case…

In her bed, Annette laid there, subconsciously trancing patterns in the ceiling and trying to make sense of whatever nightmare the good lord above has cruelly put her in.

What really happened? She thought. Why and how did it happen? Who are these people?

the only consensus that she felt she could resort to was stupid. There was no such thing as monsters; It was all a marketing scheme so that more people would have a reason to visit the city…nothing more. There had to be a rational explanation, and that was because she was a rational person who looked for rational answers.

***

The next shift was just as tedious as the last one, and the one before that, and the one before that. Every day, the same old story, the same old route, the same old tourists. Suppose that every day was the same thing on loop, at least she was doing something that she somewhat enjoyed.

Who knew that getting your master's in history would dump you out on a tour bus, teaching people the same things every day just to stay afloat.

She stood at the front of the front of the bus, pointing out important structures and landmarks when they began to pass Colonial Park Cemetery. Its large stone gate was open to the public, where a large stone angel stood atop it, and people could come and visit the vast grassy plot of dilapidated graves. For a least two blocks, it stretched along the streets, and there had to be at least three other tours standing out on the sidewalk.

There she was, teaching the same history again, and again…

“On your left is the Colonial Park Cemetery. It was built in 1750, about twenty-ish years after Savannah was founded. And believe it or not, it was about three times the size it is now, holding about 12,000 graves.” She said, receiving a couple of quiet vocal responses. “In 1853, burials in the cemetery were ceased due to overcapacity, and the cemetery was compacted around a block and a half on all four sides so that more buildings could go up. So be careful where you step because you could very well be stepping on an unmarked grave.”

“Is that why the city is so haunted?” A man in a blue polo joked from the middle of the bus. His dark-haired wife bumped him with her elbow.

Annette chuckled. She didn’t believe any of that bullshit, but it was nothing to be rude about.

“Certainly, could be. That’s what everyone here loves to say, but I’m more of a history buff myself.” She replied politely before returning right back to her job. “And just down the street on your right is the Cathedral Basilica of Saint John the Baptist, an early 1700’s congregation formed by Haitian and French immigrants. Its location and structure would continuously change throughout the late 1700’s all the way to the late 1800’s before it burned down in 1898. It was rebuilt one year later and completely redecorated in 1912 where it had to wait another eight years to become consecrated. It now continues to hold mass every Sunday, and it is open to the public for anyone who would like to visit or take pictures. I highly recommend it because there is also a very important relic in there. As you have probably heard, the church does hold a large chalice that ‘supposedly’ has a vial Saint John the Baptist’s blood inside of it. I will leave that up to all of you to decide the absoluteness of that claim…”

The tourists oohed and ahed at the knowledge that they would absolutely be forgetting later. Down the road, they continued on. Through certain periods, Annette would accept questions, or she would most often just sit at the front of the bus waiting for the next significant landmark. In the back was a small family. A mother and a father, and they had two girls: one had to have been about twelve, and the other possibly around seven? They had been the youngest on the bus, so obviously they stood out and brought a very lively breath of fresh air to the tour.

Annette loved kids. She really did. Had she not been fighting to get by every day, a part if her had hoped to settle and maybe have some of her own. But alas, she was young, and it was yet to be her calling.

Many of her tales and stories were unable to be clean of haunting claims, and by that I mean LITERALLY. Every building claimed to be a freak-fest, and a local favorite, Moon River Brewing, had shut down under widespread unknown circumstances. Many skeptical residents would claim that it must have been the age of the building finally catching up to it, or perhaps a simple bankruptcy. Other believers would be heard accusing the supernatural. This was what really had people worked up about the whole “what is the truth, and what is not?” argument. At least it made the city some money.

The bus returned to its final stop at the City Market, and all of the people exited the bus as Annette thanked them and bid her goodbyes. It was when she, too, began to make her way off of the bus when a mother began urging the younger child to express her enthusiasm.

The young girl approached Annette almost nervously, but she couldn’t help herself once it all began to spill out:

“Excuse me!” The young child walked up to her and caught Annette’s attention. “Are there actually ghosts in these houses?”

“Well—” She chuckled, not wanting to crush the young girl’s spirits, “I haven’t seen any, but thats no reason not to stay curious!”

“But, they’re real, aren’t they?”

“They might be. I don’t think I’m a very good person to ask though.” Annette replied, trying her damnedest to not to say something wrong and absolutely desecrate this kid’s whole world. “Here…” she reached for a little brochure by the bus door, crouched to her height, and handed it to the child. It was a little advertisement for a ghost tour. “Take this to your parents and come tell me if you catch any ghosts.”

Annette smiled at the kid as she grew exited.

“I get to see a ghost?” The kid asked with genuine curiosity and enthusiasm.

“Maybe if you’re lucky.” She continued with a big smile.

The girl smiled back and ran back to her family to show off her new “prize”. Annette returned upright, and the mother mouthed a simple “thank you” in her direction and pretended to ooh and ahh at the brochure. It was sweet despite the child’s ignorance…suppose that actually may have been the thing that made it sweet.

***

Annette hitched a ride on the bus back to the warehouse, and she was able to call it another day of success. Thats one more brick in the wall, one more meal to bring home, and one more coin in the piggy bank.

The bus driver that she had been paired with all day said his goodbyes, and they went their separate ways as Annette offered to close up as she did most nights. Out the back door he went, and Annette prepared to do the same, reaching for her bag that was next to her seat.

The bus moved, and a voice could be heard from the back.

“Still in too foul of a mood for a chat?”

Chapter Text

“Still in too foul of a mood for a chat?” Said the voice across the aisle of the bus.

Annette whipped around with a gasp, dropping her bag, and knew immediately who it was from the deep red hair and all-black clothing. She took a moment to try and reel her soul back into her body.

“Jesus… it's you again… What is it this time?” She bent down to grab the things that flew out of her hand.

“Wow—Okay. Whatever happened to ‘hi. How are you’?”

“I should be asking you the same thing.” She put her bag on her shoulder, “Scaring the shit out of me like that. Again.” she turned to get off of the bus, and Jo made her way to the front.

“So, you still don’t wanna talk. I get it— “

“Of course, I still don’t wanna talk. What makes you think I want to talk?”

Jo groaned. “You’re talking now, aren’t you?”

Annette scoffed.

“Avoiding the conversation isn’t helping youuu—”

“Okay. I see how it is.” Annette turned back to Jo. “What is this? Why are you here? Is this some kind of elaborate plan to kill me?”

“No.”

“Then what do you want from me? What other possible reason do you have to be here?”

Jo stood in the bus doorway, looking down at Annette. She scoffed. “Please. If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it already.”

“You know what— I don’t even know why I’m still talking to you.” Annette turned, again, towards the door.

“Oh. Well, excuse me for intruding on your evening. I wasn’t aware that you might have better things to do.”

“I do.” Annette turned to leave as she spoke. “And I want you out so I can lock up.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Jo replied bluntly, stopping Annette in her tracks.

There was a moment where the air was still. Jo stepped down from the bus, and Annette turned around with little interest in keeping up with this. Closer to Annette, she walked and stopped within about five feet of her presence. A moment passed, and she tossed Annette her keys.

“Don’t worry. I’ll see myself out.” Jo said, walking past and confidently towards the door.

Annette took a moment, trying to process the absolute absurdity of what was happening to her right now. Then the impulse kicked in.

“Oooh no. No. No No. No.” She laughed to herself and turned to follow Jo out the door. “Just who exactly are you? And why are you so aggravatingly persistent with me—”

“Ah. Now look who wants to talk.” Jo smirked to herself.

“I do! And I have a lot of questions! So, start answering.”

“Of course you do. Don’t we all.”

“Noooo. Don’t get short with me. You wanted to talk, so let's talk. What are you? Some kind of serial killer with a weird technique?”

“—Serial killer? Now that's just insulting.”

“Oh right. So sorry. Like you’re some big strong vampire who preys on unsuspecting women.”

Jo looked over at her with a look of disgust and a twinge of offense, like it was an insult. It was, to some extent. What kind of sicko would bother killing women? She kept walking down the street with Annette behind her, trying to keep up.

“Oh. Oh yeah, that's it, isn’t it? Well, I hate to break it to you, but they’re not real—”

“Of course not.” Jo butted in causally.

“So you can drop the facade, and it might benefit you to practice a bit of normalcy.”

“Normalcy is subjective, and I thought you weren’t in the mood to talk?” She looked over at Annette, briefly.

Annette returned a look to Jo and the audacity she held to be handling this conversation in the way that she did. Down about a block, they continued to bounce back and forth, arguing about things that were losing their value every step they took. Put these two in a boxing ring, and neither of them is crawling out alive.

They reached the strip of apartments that lined the sidewalk, subconsciously stopping before one of them. Jo finally turned to look at Annette as she was being brutally lectured by the short little blonde woman who was continuously losing patience with her.

“I still have no idea what your problem is. You go through so much effort to keep tracking me down. I have no idea how the hell you manage to do it, but I give you one chance to start talking and then you refuse to take it!—” Annette argued, standing before the tall redhead.

Jo calmly shushed her, holding up a dismissive finger.

“You might wanna simmer down. You’re gonna wake your neighbors…” Jo said.

“What?” She looked around at their surroundings, trying to figure out what in the hell Jo was on about. Then she realized…

“This is my apartment…“ She spoke up, her tone much softer.

“Is it?” Jo raised her eyebrows, and the question came out rather rhetorical.

“How did you r—“

Jo pulled out Annette's wallet from her leather jacket and put it against her chest. She must have lost it when she dropped her bag…

“I've lived here a long time…” She said lowly, and Annette took the wallet. “Let me know when you’re ready to have a normal conversation.” And Jo turned to walk down the sidewalk and leave.

Annette did nothing but watch her go. What else was she to do? She had nothing to say, for Jo had already ripped every coherent thought from her mind. She looked down at her wallet, wondering when this woman managed to get her hands on it, and she looked back up. The sidewalk was empty with nobody in sight.

***

She returned to her apartment and immediately let the impulse and superstition get to her head. She threw her bag down and marched over to the kitchen. She grabbed her laptop from the counter and took it with her to the couch.

There, she sat searching and scrolling, looking for some sort of heading that may soothe her reeling head.

“Serial killers in Savannah?”
“Savannah GA murders?”

It was all the same: small crimes, folktales, legends, old stories — Nothing that the city didn’t profit from.

The only thing that caught her eye was all but legitimate; vampires in Savannah? Please. It was a small article, possibly a blog of some sort, and she couldn’t deny that she found it just a little bit compelling.

In historian-shame, she clicked on it and found a surprisingly well-set-up website. Most of it argued about a select few unsolved murders, and it dug deep into facets that most people don’t usually receive details on. Even the ones from the early stages of the city shared strange commonalities with more recent incidents. The string being used to connect those dots was bright red and had the word “vampire” written all over it. Great. Another conspiracy theorist who was trying to form a cult of other conspiracy theorists.

Was this author really blaming vampires for murder? Well…yes. And the arguments weren’t actually as outrageous as most rational people would say. They were out there, sure; but the fact that each victim had a chunk of their throat missing, signs of little struggle, and an alarming lack of blood made a very persuasive argument.

With such a preposterous idea circling her mind, Annette couldn’t help herself and attentively put “vampires” into her search bar. The first one to pop up: a Wiki How article that, very poorly, demonstrates how one convinces their peers that they are a vampire. Obviously, that's all that anyone needs in life, but that's not why she was here.

Each thing she clicked was different; different theories, different takes, different opinions. It was all a very generalized thing, but Annette had been thrown into the whirlpool, and getting out of it was going to be nearly impossible.

Garlic
Crucifixes
Silver
Mirrors
Wooden stakes to the heart
Holy water
Sunlight

All of the things one may need just in case, under some miracle, you get attacked by a vampire.

***

Sunday afternoon. On her very unusual errand-running outing, Annette finally had normal people clothes in public: no bright orange and green polo that made her look like a color-blind golfer. It was uncommon for her to bother with her clothes because she was always either at work or in the peace of her own home, but it always was a refreshing thing to feel as though she looked nice…so today was beginning to feel like things could start looking up.

Her long, pale blonde waves fell down her back when she often had it tied back. She wore a light blue jean jacket that was lined with a fuzzy warm, white coating to keep her safe from the rare, autumn chilly air. Under that, a simple baby blue shirt and some mom-jeans. It was never anything too crazy; just the essentials and some chunky old tennis shoes.

She made her way down the street, heading for a few small grocery shops when her phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hi! Is this missus Weaver?”

“This is she.”

“Hi—yes! This is management at the Marriott downtown. We were just calling about Theodore. He hasn’t come to work, and we haven’t been able to get ahold of his cell. We just wanted to call and check in with you about his absence.”

“Oh—”Annette started. Shit. How does one go about telling a desk worker that they had a little argument and he had his throat brutally ripped out by some woman that jumped out of a tree? “Yes, he’s—he’s fine…we had a—we had a bit of an argument and he, you know, just had a moment…I believe he went to his parents.”

“Oh. Well alright! I will let our boss know, and, if you can manage to get ahold of him, just let us know; otherwise, we will unfortunately have to let him go.”

“Oh…um alright then. Thank you.”

They said their goodbyes and the call was over in the brevity that it lasted.

“You are in distress.” Said a woman’s voice…

Annette turned in search of the one she suspected may have been talking to her, and a darker woman was sitting at a booth, looking right at her. She was quite beautiful actually; her skin was dark, and her expression was calm yet full of intent. Her hair had been put in long dreads with half of it pulled away from her face. Her clothes were those of warm earth tones. She wore a brown knitted cardigan and carefully crafted beads and crystals around her neck.

She couldn’t have been any older than her late thirties, and she appeared to be selling lots of hand-crafted jewelry and crystals…possibly some herbal remedies; though, the only people who bothered to show interest were teenagers who believed that a chunk of rose quartz could fix their poor dating lives.

Annette turned again to be sure that it wasn’t someone else that the woman could be speaking to. It wasn’t.

“You have seen what others are lucky to have not.” The woman said bluntly, her accent — somehow — making her twice as captivating.

A moment passed, and Annette looked around again, finding herself speaking from her quiet confusion.

“How do you…” her brows knitted together, and she returned her gaze to the woman at the booth.

“But I sense you are strong. Change does not discourage you…”

“…I’m sorry— I’m a little confused.” Annette laughed nervously.

“Of course you are. That is okay.” The woman replied and gestured for Annette to come closer. “Come.”

Annette made her way over in apprehension, and the woman leaned over to rummage in the bag by her feet.

“Death. It lingers with you but you need not to worry…you are wise.” She said, a little too casually for what was actually being said, and placed a jar on the table. She scooted it towards Annette and spoke again. “Here…I believe you should take this.”

“what…is this?” Annette reached for it, convinced that this whole thing was absolutely absurd.

“I foresee it will help you.”

Annette picked up the jar and looked at it. It appeared to be a small mason jar that was full of what appeared to be different herbs and powders — possibly some garlic cloves — and the top was sealed with black candle wax and matching string. A very…strange gift from a stranger…

“But— what…do I do with it?” She asked, not wanting to be rude.

“You keep it.”

“I keep it?”

“Yes.” The woman nodded, and Annette looked down at the jar again. “Here. Come to my shop if you find you need guidance.” She added, sliding a small business card across the table.

Annette took it. The woman appeared to work at a sort of witchy apothecary, and there were no shortages of those here. She took a moment for herself and nodded at the woman, and the woman smiled and nodded in response.

Annette then took her queue and made her way down the street, returning to her tasks for the day.

***

Food, toiletries, restocks, clothes that are bought out of poor impulse control. She went about her day, as one does, trying to push aside all of the crazy shit that was being dumped on her at the strangest possible intervals. Was this some kind of sick, overly invested prank? Or did God just have something against her? Who the hell knows. There's nothing she can do now.

In an absence of a proper head on her shoulders, Annette found herself having all of her items scanned: one of which was a book. She had a lot of books — history books, novels, cookbooks, you name it — but a folktale book was never one of them.

She brought home a little purple book, perhaps about a centimeter thick, and it was titled “Haunted Savannah”. Clever name, truly. You know those gift shop books with poorly edited covers, and the author was someone that nobody had ever heard of? Yeah. It was one of those.

But, to her surprise, it was fairly interesting. In fact — many of her coworkers took amusement to the fact that she would be found reading it while on her lunch break. The Annette they knew was nothing of the superstitious type, nor was she one to show interest in “the occult”, so it definitely became a thing of question.

“Alright….we’re here.” Said the bus driver, putting the bus into park.

Annette had been reading on the route back to the warehouse. It was getting late, and the air got continuously colder as November crept closer. How appropriate: a book about local legends combined with the impending arrival of the strange celebration of halloween. Imagine that….ha. She couldn’t.

“You gonna keep reading that, or are we getting out of here?” He spoke up again.

“No.” Annette shut her book and jerked herself back into a more realistic mindset. “Im ready to get out of here.” She replied, getting to her feet.

“I swear, you haven’t put that book down in days. What's got you into all of the ghosts?”

Annette made her way off the bus and turned with a playful look.

“What? A girls not allowed to be curious?” She tried to joke.

“No. By all means.” He, too, stepped off of the bus. “Keep on learnin’. Im just and old bus driver wishing I had made more of an effort in my youth.” He patted her on the shoulder, Annette smiled, and he worked his way towards the back door. “Keep it up, girl.”

“Thanks Dale.” She said.

“You leaving soon, or should I lock up?”

“No. you go ahead. I left my jacket in the work room this morning. I’ll do it when I leave.”

Dale nodded his goodbyes and closed the door behind him, leaving Annette to her own devices. With that, she searched for her keys and made her way over to the work room, unlocking it, and grabbing that fuzz-lined jean jacket that she hardly ever left the house without.

She locked the door back, and was back on her way across the warehouse to the exit. Well— she was…until she heard a bump, a small grunt, and a jar of writing utensils had toppled over onto the concrete.

Annette turned to see who she may have missed when they came in. If anything, it was probably a mechanic or one of the desk workers what made the horrible life choice of pursuing customer service. There didn’t seem to be anyone there, but Annette set her bag down and moved closer.

“Bobby?” She asked, receiving no answer.

Christ. If someone was breaking in, or trying to steal shit, they were tough out of luck because there was no cash here, and Annette…well she wasn’t gonna do much. She didn’t care enough to put up a fight, and the company of a coworker would have been preferred.

She peeked over the desk: nobody. Odd, but no more odd that everything else shes witnessed in the past two weeks. She bent down to pick up the jar and gather the scattered pens. No intruder, no problem.

She set the pens back up on the corner and returned for her bag, but the minute she turned — there she was.

“My god. Do you have enough shit in here?” Jo asked, rummaging around in Annette's bag.

“Jesus— fuck!” She shouted, bumping into the desk.

“—what's this?” She pulled out the little purple book.

“Would you quit doing that!”

“Doing what?” Jo replied, paying little attention as she flipped through the pages.

“Scaring the crap out of me— and going through my bag!”

“You know if you had questions, you could have just asked.”

Annette strode over and took her things from Jo’s curious hands.

“Questions. As if. Give me that— didn’t anyone ever teach you that its rude to rummage around in peoples things?” Annette said, putting the book back in her bag.

“No…” Jo replied, stepping around Annette. “But I’ve learned that questioning isn’t as much of a crime as people like to pretend it is. And I didn’t take anything, so don’t let it ruffle your feathers.”

“I’d still prefer if I didn’t have my things sorted through by some man-eating, vampire, psycho, killer, thing—”

Jo’s eyebrows shot up, and she stopped to look at Annette.

“Wow—! Way to jump to conclusions. Slow your roll Van Helsing. You don’t know me.” She replied.

“Yeah. That's one reason I'd like to know why you keep showing up here.”

“—Oh. So I’m not allowed to make human friends. Seems a bit racist.”

“thats not ho— you’re white! That's not racist, and it's a bit reasonable given that I watched you kill people with your bare hands!”

“Yeah I’m never gonna hear the end of that one, am I? If you’re gonna make judgements about me, at least make an effort to get to know me first. I feel like some things might surprise you if you’d start trusting people.”

Annette looked at her for a moment, crossing her arms. She looked around, her stance softened, and she looked back at Jo.

“Alright— fine…who are you then?” Annette inquired.

“Jo. Jo Sinclair.” She raised an eyebrow and stuck out her hand for Annette to shake. She did. “And your assumptions about me would be correct.”

“Right…” Annette replied, not really knowing where she should take this.

There was a pause. Their hands remained locked together but motionless.

“Am I getting your name, or…are you gonna make me ask for it?” Jo tilted her head, trying to keep this light and painless as possible.

“Oh- uh. Annette…Weaver.” She replied, trying to figure this girl out. Their hands parted.

She was terribly sarcastic, but there was also something charming about it. Where this would lead, Annette wasn’t positive, but Jo didn’t seem like she had any intention of bringing harm…so maybe trusting her wouldn’t be such a terrible decision.

“And you’re— you’re not going through some elaborate plan to kill me…?” She asked, just for security.

“Okay. Just because I have to chug blood to survive doesn’t mean I’m a monster. You’re very quick to judge.” Jo took on a tone that seemed much more friendly. “If I’m anything, it's a walking history book.”

Annette couldn’t help but look at Jo with a look of pure fascination and confusion. She really was intriguing….

“…Who are you…?” She asked.

“I don’t think theres enough hours in a night for me to properly answer that question…” she replied, matching Annette’s tone.

With a bit of small talk and chit-chat, Annette remained at a sense of unease, but her strange sense of interest outweighed the rest of it all. Jo learned of Annette’s aptitude for history, and Annette was very easily coerced into a meeting in which they could actually engage in a decent, mature conversation.

They went their separate ways. Jo watched Annette go, and she made an exit herself.

“You really are terrible with people.” Arlo said, meeting Jo at the door.

“Oh shut it. I’m not that bad at making friends.” She replied, and they began their walk home.

“Uh huh.” He agreed unconvincingly. “Because thats absolutely what this is.”

“It is. How dare you accuse me otherwise.” She replied sarcastically: It would be an issue if she hadn’t.

Chapter Text

Annette stood in front of her bedroom mirror, trying to decide whether or not her outfit was acceptable enough to be seen in public with. A white turtleneck and a denim skirt…her fuzzy jean jacket…did it look stupid? Was this appropriate for a very civil, very not strange meeting with a vampire? Oh god — what if it was offensive? Can clothes offend vampires? Maybe if she added some tights? No. It's fine. This isn’t a date. She can wear whatever the hell she wants…as long as it doesn’t look stupid.

Eventually, she coaxed herself out of the mindset that she had no idea how to formulate an appealing ensemble of clothing, and she forced herself out of the door.

It's fine. She looks fine. Everything is fine.

She got into her car, leaving her troubles on the front porch, and adjusted the volume on her radio before making her day down to Riverstreet. Bad Moon Rising…hm. Theo must’ve left one of his old CDs in the car.

She parked in a small lot between the buildings, on the rocky cobblestone where most people end up wrapping their trip early due to a broken ankle. She got out of the car, gathered her things, and tried to coax herself into the mental state that there was nothing crazy about this at all. That was evidently a lie.

She surfed her way through the ocean of tourists and eventually made it to the restaurant with the faded green doors. From above her head, a hand reached for the door and held it open. It was Jo, and her stature hovered about eight inches over Annette’s. She turned out of instinct to thank whoever it was but was dissuaded otherwise when she realized who it actually was.

“You really do have a thing for appearing out of nowhere don’t you?” Annette pointed out, stepping into the small foyer of the restaurant with a much more comfortable tone than they had previously held with each other.

“Well hello to you too.” Jo returned the greeting with a smile and followed her in. “And yeah. I do. It adds a nice sense of mystique.”

“It's very cliche.” She added.

“Says the one in a denim skirt and tights.” She replied wittily. “Table for two please.”

Oh god. The outfit was a mistake, she thought as they were taken into a cramped — yet slightly larger — dining room. Though…perhaps bigger mistakes were being painted in this picture, and it didn’t take her long to consider that.

“Couldn’t you have just— like— hypnotized someone and clear a table?” Annette spoke up.

“What?” Jo asked, briefly turning to look at her. “What do you take me for a bloody X-Man?”

“Bloody?” What? Bloody???? Was that supposed to be some type of pun, or has this woman not realized that some words were not at all in common use down here?

“My bad.” Annette brushed it off, and they were seated at a table directly under the bright red and blue sign that said “Hueys”: the name of the restaurant, as any smart person would assume.

Almost as soon as the both of them took their seats, and thanked the waitress, another server came to greet them and take drink requests. Jo politely declined ordering anything, and Annette ordered just a simple glass of water. The pale redhead had a constant sense of stoicism to her as if she was always awaiting something. Something that might free her from the everlasting boredom that she was always trying to do something with.

Annette adjusted herself in her seat, and, when she found some kind of comfort, she noticed that Jo had just been watching. Her expression was almost impossible to read, but it was harmless, and Annette was positive of that. Though…she wasn’t exactly sure how she knew.

“So…” She cleared her throat, attempting to break the ice, “where should we start?” She shifted again.

“I don’t know. What do you want to know?” Jo said in a tone that was just as confusing as her expression.

“Alright. Where is an appropriate place to start?” She asked again.

Jo simply looked at her, and the little fond smile that crept on her face was a blatant signal that there were hardly any inappropriate questions if you were talking to a boyfriend killer.

“Okay. Fine. How about the classics?” Annette gave in. “How old are you?”

“Physically or literally?” Jo asked, mostly just to be agitating but answered anyway, chuckling at herself. “Physically: twenty-four. Literally: about a hundred and seventy-two.”

“ONE HUNDRED AND SEVEN— “ She spoke up before Jo had to put out a hand and sush her down. “One hundred and seventy-two?!” She said in very clear, and understandable, shock.

“Yes. One hundred and seventy-two.”

“So what— you were born in… nineteen— no eighteen…”

“Eighteen fifty-two,” Jo replied quickly.

All Annette knew to do was stare. 1852?! CE?! Okay. To be entirely fair, that is not something that you just hear every day from just anybody.

“1852…” Annette thought for a moment. “The Civil War. So you witnessed the civil war…?”

“I…wouldn’t say ‘witnessed’ so much as ‘experienced’…” She replied, and it was clear that it may have been a bit of a touchy subject. Her tone was a bit higher in pitch, and she was certainly dancing around the topic.

“Oh— so you—you were like there.”

“Yeeeeeah…not a good time.” Jo scrunched her nose and shook her head. “After the men were sent out to war, my aunt and cousin moved in with us, It didn’t take very long before our house was turned into a makeshift hospital. It wasn’t exactly the most wholesome experience for a twelve-year-old, I'll give you that much.”

“I can imagine…” Annette replied, not sure how one is supposed to react to this kind of information. “And— and you’ve watched everything unfold…the World Wars, the Titanic, the Industrial Revolution, the— the—the invention of cars, the depression! …you’ve seen all of it?”

Jo hadn’t really noticed the smile that crossed her pale face, but any onlooker with eyes would have assumed that Jo had found herself rather fond of Annette’s enthusiasm and curiosity.

“I did.” She nodded and reached to fiddle the napkin that had been uniformly placed in front of her before they were seated. “You know, at the time you don’t really realize the impacts being made on the world until fifty years have gone by, and, suddenly, nothing is the same again. You think it's just another day on the calendar — and it is — but then those days just start to kind of run together. The people you meet become increasingly more irrelevant, the choices you make hardly have any impact, and you’ve got all the time in the world to repeatedly figure shit out.”

“Must be nice…” Annette replied, nearly without thought. “Not having a time limit.”

“I guess you could look at it like that.” Jo considered her thoughts. “It gets a bit mundane sometimes.”

“Do you remember how it happened?” Annette spoke up with an impulsive expression of curiosity. Perhaps it was the historian in her.

“How what happened?” Jo inquired.

“How you…” Annette gestured, trying to find the right words that wouldn’t come off as strange or too personal, “turned?”

“Turned?”

“Into…this.” She gestured again towards Jo who was leaning on the table with her forearms. “Sorry— I don't— I’m still trying to grasp that this is actually…something that… exists…”

Jo smiled, mostly to herself, and, if Annette had been paying closer attention, she may have caught a glimpse of her canines — which weren’t very noticeable — but they came to a small sharp point and grazed her bottom lip.

“I don’t actually,” Jo replied, brushing off the awkwardness that could have very easily dictated the conversation. “Not specifically, that is…but I have my suspicions about it all.”

“And those would beeee…?”

“Well, if you’re so invested, I got myself into a predicament and woke up in the woods with no recollection of how I got there, and, after being taken in by what I assumed to be a witch doctor. After that, everything was different.”

“A witch doctor?” Annette replied skeptically.

“Hey. Ask and you shall receive.”

“Okay. Alright. And— and the ‘predicament’?”

“Simon. My cousin. He uh— wasn’t very fond of me back then. We weren’t exactly two who got along often. A jealous one, he was.” Jo replied, looking more so at the table than Annette.

“There's more to it, isn’t there.” Annette accused.

“Nothing relevant.” She looked back up.

“You’re leaving things out.”

“Ah, so this is a therapy session now?”

Annette paused for a moment, wondering if she had maybe let her curiosity get the best of her.

“No. but I assume that this isn’t really something that you get to share often.” Annette explained.

“I don’t…but it's in the past now, so why dwell on it?”

She was right. Annette knew she was. That didn’t bring her curiosity to a halt, but she still decided to leave it right there. It wasn’t her place to pry.

Throughout most of their evening, Jo continued to let Annette question the details of her existence and she found herself rather fond of the company. It was nice to have someone around who wasn’t Arlo: someone who was either talking about his romantic affairs or making odd comments about Jo’s mentality. It only seemed to get more and more tedious as the years went by, so this was a nice refresh.
Annette ordered her food, and they continued to chat. She asked about the clichés such as garlic, crucifixes, silver, mirrors, sunlight — all the stereotypes — and Jo had joked about Annette trying to plot against her; however, most of that conversation turned into Jo longing for the taste of garlic bread again. A shame it truly was to live without such a delicacy. They continued to chat and get along surprisingly well, despite all of the sarcastic answers to genuine questions.

The waitress eventually brought their check, setting it on the table, and leaving. Before Annette could even think to tidy up and take it, Jo reached over and took it at a speed that was too quick for Annette to even react.

“I’ve got it. Consider it another apology for decimating your man.” Jo said, signing it and setting a twenty-dollar bill in the little pocket.

All Annette knew to do was just look at her.

***

On their walk to the car, they continued to chat, slowly surfing the crowds of partied-out tourists.

“Yeah. He was always the jealous type. He had a thing for always trying to one-up me.” Jo said, on the topic of Simon.

“Do you know where he is now?” She asked.

“Nah.” She shuffled her heel in front of her, kicking a little bit of the dusty cobblestone as they continued down Riverstreet. “Probably out there somewhere wreaking havoc on someone else’s life. If I’m gonna spend an eternity with anyone, at least it isn’t him.”

“And you don’t know who turned him?”

“Nope. He just came home one day, and he was an entirely different person.”

Annette hummed in thought at that. Eventually, they made it to her car and Annette decided to speak up again. She stopped and turned to look at the tall pale redhead.

“Do you miss them?”

“What?” Jo asked, turning to face her.

“Your family. I mean you have to miss them sometimes, don’t you?”

“I suppose,” Jo replied. “At this point, I’ve learned to just…roll with the times. Can’t go back, so I’ve learned to just keep moving forward.”

Annette thought for a moment. An almost solemn expression had spread across her face. She looked away and then returned her gaze right back to the woman leaning on her car with her forearm.

“I guess you don’t really have a choice, do you?” She chuckled awkwardly.

“No.” Jo, too, let an awkward laugh slip past her smile. She looked now at the cobblestone beneath her feet. “No, I really don’t.”

A very brief moment of silence, interrupted by quiet, awkward, breathy chuckles, had passed, and Jo finally managed to pull herself out of it to check her watch.

“Oh…I should probably let you get back…. it's getting late.” She said, still trying to keep her spirits up.

“It's only ten o’clock,” Annette added.

“Yeah…but we both have very different bedtimes, you’ve had your dinner, and I don't think you’d want to want to see mine again.” Jo scrunched her nose and shook her head.

“No…no not really….” She agreed. “And I guess, now we’ve got this all sorted out, you uh…you’ve got no reason to keep bothering me, do you…?”

“I might. But I figured you’d want to be on your own now that I’ve had the chance to explain myself.”

Annette considered that statement, and she knew that Jo was coming from a very valid standpoint, but she also felt that she may have been growing rather fond of the company. Friends were not easily made at this age, and very rarely did she have the chance to try making any.

“I still have so many questions…” Annette smiled and looked up at her.

“Then, perhaps, another time you can ask them.” Jo smiled back.

Chapter Text

After her long-overdue night out, Jo made her way back to the flat that she and Arlo had been sharing for the past couple of decades. There wasn’t much on her mind outside of the plans she made for dinner - or whatever a vampire called their meals for the night - with him. It was the same thing every night; they go out, kill a couple of weirdos, perhaps argue about something trivial, maybe vandalize something if they’re feeling frisky, and then go back home to do whatever it was they felt like doing. It often times never changed. Arlo always was one to enjoy routine, and Jo…well Jo couldn’t care less about anything they did anymore.
She made her way up to the small porch, turning the key with no expectations of anything having changed for once.

“Hey. Im hooo-“ Jo said, opening the door but very quickly averted her attention to anything else that wasn’t Arlo and Ellie, who were a tangled mess on the couch. “Oh my god and she is too. Okay.”

Jo held out her hand trying to block the not-so-graphic view of her flatmate and his girlfriend, who were luckily still clothed but still not presentable enough to be seen by anyone other than each other.
Quickly, they broke apart with messy hair, panicked pink expressions, and incoherent, overlapping explanations.

“I can just- I can go and get dinner myself, if thats-“ Jo offered, pointing towards the door.

“No- no it’s okay.” Ellie said, trying to pull herself back together, tucking her dark hair behind her ears and moving to sit next to Arlo.

“I didn’t- you never said when you’d be back, so we just kinda…” Arlo tried pitching in, while readjusting himself.

“Yeah no. I got it. It’s okay.” Jo replied, trying to keep the chaos down as best as possible. “If you guys wanna…y’know…keep going, i can just go. It’s really not a problem.” She said with a subtle chuckle and a sense of awkwardness that would be hard for anyone to hide.

“No. We can go now. Really, its- we can just pick it up later.” Arlo tried to dissuade her. Plans were made, and he didn’t want to ruin them.

“Yeah no. Its okay. I’m getting hungry anyways.” Ellie tried to help him out.

Jo blinked, and then her face was crossed with a suspicious look…

“Are you sure? Because you kinda looked-“

“Hey Jo!” Arlo panicked and put his hand out to stop her from running her mouth. “It’s okay. Let’s just go. We were gonna wait on you anyways. Yeah?”

“Ooookay.” She said, turning to follow the both of them out the front door.

They hadn’t made it silently down the street for very long before Jo couldn’t really help herself. She never could. She sped up behind the both of them, making the tension worse than it had already become…like the presence of an annoying child with no sense of when it was a good time to quit.

“You know, i really didn’t mind going out on my own, right?” She said.

“Jo. I promise you, it’s fine.” He said, continuing forward, and Ellie looked at him.

“Yeah but now I kinda feel bad about it, and that doesn’t exactly feel good to me….”

“Yes, but you already have empathy problems, so I promise you it is okay.” He replied without a single trace of malice. This was just how it was.

“Okay.” Jo said, finally accepting the entirety of it. “Sooooo…I’ll take it, this you begging me to can it?”

“With all of the love I have for you, Jo, yes. Yes I am.”

“Oookay!” Jo replied and moved to pass Arlo with much more care-free pep in her step.

Ellie took a big breath, and they kept moving.

***

There wasn’t much that could be said about the rest of Annettes evening - other than a casual night out with a blood-sucking night-owl who looked like she might implode if she wore any other color than black- but she went back to her little apartment and decided to use the remaining hours for herself. No theo, no Jo, no mom and dad, just her and her own little world that she was too busy to tend to.

Many questions had found their way to the Back of Annette’s mind over the course of the night: questions that were more of intrusive thoughts than they were thought processes that you go through consciously.

Was she as cold as they say in books and movies?
Can they walk on walls?
What happens if someone is on their period? Okay. Thats just disgusting.
Do they sparkle? No….thats a stupid question.
Fangs? She didn’t really see any fangs…but maybe she just wasn’t paying enough attention. Hm…

Better not dwell on it. Annette got her answers at dinner; theres no need to fixate, so she ended her night with a good movie and a bed all to herself.

***

In an alleyway, with a mouthful of blood, Arlo released the corpse of a man onto the cobblestone and searched to regain his breath. His chest heaved in a subtle pattern, and the streams of dark red stained his teeth as it began to run down his neck.
Similarly, Jo did the same with another man who they had assumed to be a friend of the first one’s. His lifeless body flopped as she carelessly tossed him next to a nearby dumpster, and Ellie stood nearby with her gaze unbroken and fixated on Arlo.

“You’re so cute when you do that.” She said, walking over to her bloodstained boyfriend.

She reached up and fiddled with the collar of his shirt, eliciting a cheeky little red smile from him. He giggled, and Jo watched in the distance with a look of disgust.

“Eugh…” she said, with little intention of anyone hearing it. It was revolting, truly.

Ellie’s hands went to play with his hair, and they shared a little kiss. Every time. It was like this every fucking time. They go out, they can’t keep their claws to themselves. It was like a horrible car accident; it was so disturbing, but also something that you just cant bring yourself to look away from.
Jo was watching a horrible car accident, and she really - very badly - wanted to either kill herself or the both of them, but that obviously wasn’t something that was going to happen. instead, she just waited for an opening between their mushy words of adoration to get out.

“Oh I’m gonna be sick,”she mumbled to herself. “I’m begging you two to get a room.” She spoke up and brought herself back to earth with a little smartassery.

“Your jealousy is showing, Jo.” Ellie replied teasingly, happily holding Arlo’s bloody face.

“okay. Dont start all that, you freak. We know what you think about in your free time-“ Arlo tossed in his donation of an insult with an equally teasing intent.

“Whoa!” Jo replied quickly. “How dare you inquire on my forces of attraction!”

They all laughed, but, deep down, Jo felt that aching feeling creep back up to her chest. That horrible void of a feeling that she was missing a major part of her existence. Even though she enjoyed being on her own, that feeling was a rope around her neck, occasionally being tugged in a direction and at a time that she never could predict, and she has now more than ever been dragged bare skinned through rocks and mud.

“its been twenty years since you’ve ever been remotely attracted to anyone, Jo. And you didn’t even bother to do anything about it!” Arlo argued.

“Oh right. Like she wouldn’t have bashed my head backwards-“

“Oh- you and I both know thats why you liked her.”

“Arlo. Oh my god.” Ellie smacked his shoulder.

For a moment, Jo noticed the look that Ellie gave him. It was that look in which Jo knew that it was time to leave the flat and find something else to do…unless she wanted permanent damage to her psyche from all the noise. They bickered for a moment, and, with a cringe that she couldn’t hold back, jo tried to exit the alleyway.

“Okay. Im just gonna see myself out…” She announced quietly. “Have fun you guys!”

And she went off into the cluttered, humid cobblestone streets. If there was one thing that Riverstreet wasn’t, it was peaceful. Perhaps if you went around the Marriott or around towards the exits near the eastern or western ends, you may find a lack of excitement if thats what you so desire…but, for the most part, Riverstreet was the place to be for those who didn’t desire a lack of excitement.

Bachelorette parties, first dates, college kids, tourists: there was hardly a shortage.

Had Jo been anymore human, she might have drowned in it all. Each bar she passed was a different band, a different group of people, a different song, a different story for every open window. After a while, she had rather gotten used to everything happening around her. Each step against the brick sidewalk was like one step forward in time…but she remained stagnant. The world kept spinning, the people kept laughing, the flow of traffic continued moving, but she was just…her. The same old Jo that walked the same old streets for the past century and a half.
Well - “the same” in theory. Instead of barreling through space time at a billion light years per hour, she was entirely still, watching everything else speed past her at a billion light years per hour.

Nearly jostling past her, a group of girls in glittery short dresses and sashes whooped and hollered down the pavement. In a window to her right, a couple: her hair was dark and well kept, and he fawned at her lovingly as she ate from his fork. Across the road, a pair of lovers shared an embrace in the company of the river. Pushing through the crowd, two young girls, likely in college, dragged each other along with beaming smiles and a haste to their travels. Storming out of a restaurant, a hostile man came out shouting at his partner who was following behind in a desperate series of pleas.
It was like this almost every night if Jo was there just looking for something to eat, dwelling on her lack of human connection, or if she was just not there at all.

She was thrown from her melodrama when a voice called from a few feet back.

“Wooo…look at that. What’s a pretty face like that doing all serious?”

Jo stopped.

“Yeah. You. The redhead.” He called again.

Jo sucked on a fang and gathered herself before turning. Instantly he was met with a golden glare that knocked him back into his group of friends. He stumbled both over his feet and his words, and the look on her face was hardly human. If anything, it was a stare that one could only find in the worst of their nightmares; piercing, violent, and a sure sign that one wrong move could have the pavement painted a deep red in the blink of an eye.
The best way to describe something so impossible to truly understand is to compare her to an owl. Completely still, not a single muscle that wasn’t dormant. Eyes bright, wide, and an unnatural shade of gold. And, for a moment, he thought her neck may have turned in a way that was only possible if she were an owl. A sure sign of death itself…or thats how people of superstitious nature would look at it.

Each of the young men scrambled, turning and trying to urge each other opposite of the flow of the crowd. As they dissipated amongst the drunken tourists and lively residents, Jo turned back and shook her head with a scoff.

“Dumbass.” She smirked to herself.

It wasn’t that she hated men. She actually quite liked them when she felt as though she was not made lesser than them. In fact, many of her bestest friends had been men, but that was probably because she never really did act like a woman.

She spent a lot of the night reflecting…mostly on where she could have possibly went wrong, but she ultimately came to the conclusion that she went wrong in too many places to pick just one. Theres no way that ONE bad move resulted in her falling in an eternal state of twenty-four, single, and so thirsty for blood that most local clinics ended up shutting down because the nurses did nothing but accuse each other of stealing rather than actually helping patients.

***

After a bite to eat, through the doorway she swung into Mama Sylvie’s little shop. Many people who often visited could have sworn that it was a shitty old tourist shop that used to sell seashells and starfish all for useless reasons, but it wasn’t. And it never was, to the shock of many.

“Hey mama. you busy?” Jo said, swinging around the doorframe.

The darker woman, dressed from head to toe in earthy colors and beads, lifted her head as she continued to wipe down the counter with an old rag.

“I was not, but I suppose i am now….” She replied warmly, dropping the rag and wiping off her hands. “Is there something that you need?”

“No.” Jo replied and shut the door behind her. “Just looking for something to do.”

“And where is Arlo?” She asked, placing a jar of dark dried rose petals on her shelf.

“Ellie is back in town.” Jo answered and walked over to the little table at the center of the room. she sat in one of the old chairs, both legs slung over the arm closest to Mama. “Didn’t feel like third wheeling dinner tonight.”

“Ah. I see. that is why youve come to me. because you don’t want to be alone.” She bent down to grab something from beneath the counter.

“Wow. good call. You’ve really sniffed me out haven’t you, Mama?” Her eyebrows shot up. She propped her elbow up on the other arm rest, and her chin instantly fell onto her knuckles.

“You are not difficult to read, child. You usually enjoy being on your own, so I can obviously tell when you are not yourself. Sarcasm or not.” She placed a jar of some kind of herbs in front of herself.

“Yes but everyone longs for company at some point, don’t they? I mean- when you live as long as we do, it gets a bit boring…no?”

“Yes. but you don’t like people.” She nodded and turned to grab herself a cup and her new fancy little electric kettle. “You make that very clear, and, if I read you correctly, it seems as though you don’t have much of a companion anymore…”

“Meh. I like you, and Arlo hasn’t exactly been much of a companion more than he’s been the opinion that I never ask for…” She muttered.

“Since when do you care what people think of you, Jo?”

She scoffed. As if anyone’s opinion had any weight to her wonderfully carved out, perfect life.

“I don’t. Well- not as much as I used to…”

“Then it is not your problem.” Mama set her cup down and poured the steaming water into it.

“Guess not…” She gave in with little persuasion and a groan. “I don’t wanna think about it anymore, Mama. I’m here now, bothering you. So whats new?”

Mama smiled and scooped some of her herbs into a steeper to put into the water.

“Not much that is important.” She said, Her voice was warm and thick with an accent, and thats one of the reasons Jo liked to stop in. There wasn’t a single thing about her that wasn’t uninviting, and an insult sounded like a psalm if it came from her lips. “But- Do you remember that old ceramic cat I put in the window to keep away the mice?”

“The white one? With the…weird freaky eyes?”

“Yes. That one.” She stirred the water. Jo’s eyes followed as the little metal chain bobbed up and down, in and out, slowly turning the water a light shade of brown. “I sold it.”

“Really-“ Jo replied, nearly choking on her own surprise. “You sold the cat? The cat that you stopped trying to sell twenty years ago because it makes children cry?”

“Yes.”

“How.”

“Well-“ Mama walked over and poured herself some boiling water into her cup. “A man came in with his daughter today. He said that his husband was a collector, and they asked if I had anything that might work as a birthday gift, and before I could come up with anything at all, the little girl ran over with the cat. She begged him to buy it, and he just couldn’t tell her no...so I sold it to them for fifteen dollars…” She took a sip. “That and an old charm.”

“Well I’ll be damned.” She accepted it, raising her eyebrows and shifting in her seat. “I never thought I’d live to see the day.”

“it was not that scary.“

“It was ugly. You cannot deny that.” She argued.

“She did not think so…” Mama said with a tranquil hum, giving her a look.

Jo’s brows furrowed. Right. Like anyone but a clueless child would think that hideous thing was at all fetching.

“Tea?” Mama gestured with her steaming cup.

Jo gave her a look that walked the line between offended and just plain disappointed.

the rest of their evening was spent in a ping pong of small conversation and the occasional exchanging of philosophy. Mama Sylvie has always been a wise figure, and not a single person whom shes crossed paths with owns a bad opinion on her. Well- maybe a few southern-born white people who don’t care for anything that may be different from them…but they’d be lying if they’d left her shop and said it was a terrible experience.

***

Later that night, Jo had left mama to herself and the shop. Perhaps she wanted one more little snack before getting back home, or perhaps she just didn’t want to overstay her welcome. Either way, she strode down the quiet sidewalks, hands in her pockets, back to the apartment where she had expected to find Ellie and Arlo.
On the porch, he had the key in the slot, turning it, with Ellie holding his jacket in her arms.

“What did i miss?” Jo called out, hopping her way up the steps.

Arlo and Ellie turned around, a tinge of worry and confusion on their pale faces.

“Where have you been?” Arlo asked.

“Out? Getting food?” Jo replied, also just as confused.

“You just up and left without saying anything!” Ellie said, not so much upset as she was slightly bewildered.

“Uh. Yeah. No I just didn’t feel like third wheeling, and I did actually tell you guys that I was going to get food…you were just preoccupied with-”

“This whole time, you’ve been getting food?” Arlo inquired.

“No. I went to go get food and then I went to go see Mama…”

Arlo gave her a suspicious look, his lips flatting into a thin line, like a muppet. His eyebrows squished together, and it was that look that could very easily be used to get under her skin, but every time Jo saw it, she felt like it was some kind of tactic to drag some kind of truth out of her.

“Did you?” His voice grew rather high in pitch, and it did, in fact, always strike a nerve with Jo.

“I did! Shes a very charismatic woman. You cannot blame me for it.” Jo argued.

“Right.” He unlocked the door and they all filtered into the living room.

“Yeah.” She rolled her eyes and threw herself into a fit of sarcasm. “Okay fine. You caught me. I was sleazing around in the streets, seducing women and luring them into alleyways to objectify myself into an oblivion. Sue me.”

“Dont lie.” He replied bluntly.

“Just thought id make an effort to be more like you, you know. Since my way of life is an unconventional mystery to literally everybody.”

“Okay. I believe you!” Arlo surrendered.

“You should have come with us, Jo.” Ellie intervened in an attempt to cut the tension. “You missed out on a really good fight. Arlo actually felt a little bad about it.”

“Wait really?” She asked quietly. She wasn’t mad, but she sure was upset that it was her own fault for bailing and missing out on a good time. Arlo chuckled.

“What do you mean I missed out on a fight!” She asked dramatically.

“Some guy. He just wasn’t ready to accept it. Tried to hit Arlo over the head with a metal pipe…” She set his jacket on the coffee table.

Jo’s jaw hit the floor, followed by a big fat dramatic gasp of self loathing.

“He stood absolutely no chance. Don’t even-“ He joked, picking up and tossing some of the couch blankets to the side.

“Awwww- and i missed it. Dammit!” She stamped her foot.

“Well…theres always next time.” Ellie shrugged.

“Yeah. Like I’m gonna risk getting cucked again for some actual fun around here.” Jo scoffed.

Arlo leaned over to Ellie. “She will.” He nodded, and she shook her head.

“Yeah I probably will…” She admitted. Unfortunately she did enjoy a brawl or two when she needed a little action; otherwise, she’d get something kind of like cabin fever…but with fighting instead of social interaction.

They all chuckled, and it was all free rein until the sun came up. And when it did, everyone went straight to their coffins…with the exception of Ellie who quite obviously shared the tight space with Arlo.
As much as Jo would have liked to say that she “slept like the dead”, she would have been blatantly lying. There were many things in her life that kept her up at- well not at night but during the day. Many of those things may or not be acceptable, but, then again, things like that are always subjective. The fact that she was a blood sucking monster, the unfathomable violence that she is naturally prone to, the lonely void that sat in the pocket where her heart should be, the fact that her dear friend (a.k.a. Flatmate) was growing increasingly insufferable, or…maybe it was the blonde curls…the blue eyes that understood her every word…or- nope. Not in a million years. As if she was ever gonna bother with a woman again, let alone that one.

But that didn’t take away from the fact that the option was still there…

Chapter Text

On a night like every other night, from Monday to Friday, the warehouse was dark and empty, the fluorescent lights flickered to a blue dimness, the air was cool, and Annette was left on her own again to lock up. This was usually because she and her driver, Dale, had the route that brought their bus into the warehouse last. She also didn’t really mind being last. The emptiness and the lonely walk home was unconventional, but it was like a long awaited reward after a day full of big fake smiles and a throat-destroying customer service voice.
Closing the warehouse and walking home was her window of solitude in a room full of shit, and god rest the poor soul who dares to draw the curtains.

She pulled her bag up onto her shoulder and went over to the front desk for a small caramel candy that was kept at the corner. A small handful she put in her bag for the road, and she turned back towards the door.

Right on queue, before she made it within five feet of her exit, the bus shook. Annette whipped around to find none other than exactly who she would have expected to find on any other night. It was Jo, sitting on the hood with her legs crossed like a little kid.

“Hey there.” She said casually.

Annette, with the look of shock on her face melting away, stood there quietly as she took a moment to catch her bearings.

“You came back…” She said, her eyes twinkling along with the smile that threatened to tug on her cheeks.

“I did…” Jo replied with an expression that only an English professor could pick apart and label. “Care for some company on your way home?”

Annette sauntered over, crossing her arms. She didn’t want to make it known that part of her was actually quite thrilled to have a little company on her way home, especially from this one here. Its just that she was smarter about who she chooses to associate herself with than most other people, and she knew it too.

“I don’t suppose it would be an issue. The company is always nice.” She replied.

“I hope I’m not intruding.” Jo jumped down next to the woman whom had so cordially accepted her presence. It was odd to her, but she chose not to show it.

“You’re not…” She looked up.

Jo was rather tall compared to Annette. That and much sharper. She was pale thin. Her skin was something that looked almost sickly, but not unattractive; clear…and nearly translucent if you looked hard enough. If she remembered correctly, her eyes were a faint shade of gold, and her nose was smaller and downturned with a slight curve of the bridge. Greek perhaps?
She smiled down at Annette, and received one in return, but it was interrupted when Jo began making her own way straight for the door. Above them a light began to flicker ever-so-dimly. Annette observed for a moment, but it didn’t take her long to follow behind.

Jo opened the door with her back, that same old fancy smile puppeteering her lips. Annette scoffed and walked past.

“And what may I ask are you doing back here?” Annette asked.

“Oh nothing.” Jo admitted rather bluntly. “Just looking for something interesting to do with my time.”

“So you came to me?” She raised an eyebrow, and they shuffled down the sidewalk.

“Yeah. Why not? I don’t know anyone else that isn’t full of bloodlust and unsolicited judgement….and also shit.”

Annette scoffed again.

“Yeah. Sounds thrilling, I’m sure.”

“It isn’t.” Jo kicked a pebble and it bounced against the bricks. “But being here is nice. I find the company refreshing.”

“So you’re not plotting some ruse to rope some humans into becoming your familiar?” She teased.

“Nahhhh. Most of us don’t even do that. Thats a rich people luxury that I’m yet to see in person.”

“Is that what you would say if you were trying to recruit someone?”

“Oh please.” Jo scoffed with a smile. “God forbid I can actually tolerate your presence.”

Annette gasped dramatically, a hand flying up to her chest.

“Tolerate? Honestly. I cant believe you. And to think I was going to agree with you.”

Jo chuckled and so did Annette.

“Oh right. My bad. I apologize.” Jo gave in.

“No…but i do agree. It is nice to have somebody to talk to… it gets a little-“

“Lonely?” Jo interrupted. “Yeah. I know.”

Annette looked up at her, and it felt rather stupid, but it was also nice…to feel understood. Theo used to understand, but for some reason, she couldn’t really recall any of her times with him…which was odd, but she chose not to think too much about it.
They chatted their way back to the apartment through the same old route, the same old path, the same old bricks. As Annette opened up vaguely more, Jo grew slightly more distracted. Why? Annette wasn’t sure, but it wasn’t an uninterested type of distraction. It was a distraction that made it clear that her mind was elsewhere.

they slowed as they neared the steps of Annette’s apartment, and Jo watched as her boots dragged beneath her.

“Sometimes I wish things could just slow down, you know? It’s like being stuck on a treadmill that never runs out of battery, but if you get off, you just die...” Annette admitted, her voice calm and honest. “Between having to keep myself alive and eat and work 10 hour shifts, i don’t actually have much of a life.” She chuckled.

Suddenly, Jo stopped and Annette turned with a confused brow.

“Do you work tomorrow?” Jo asked.

“What?” She asked, and Jo repeated the question. “I dont…why?”

“I wanna show you something. Come on.” Jo began walking again back down the sidewalk.

“Wait- but-“

“Just come on!”

And the next thing she knew, Jo was pulling her from above onto a roof. It was the Marriott down on Riverstreet where there was food and people and live music and colorful lights and a cool breeze from the river.

“Jo- this is insane.” She grunted as she was pulled up at least a hundred feet from the ground.

“Just quit complaining. You’ll thank me later.”

Once Annette made it up, she muttered something that was likely a complaint, and she dusted herself off. Jo walked over to the edge, and Annettes eyes began to follow, but she was very quickly distracted by the view ahead. The river was black and reflected nearly every light that touched it: blue, purple, green, red, pink, silver, you name it. And the people below laughed and danced and sang along to the music that echoed through the alleyways. It was amazing, and it was wild to think that they had the time to do so. Annette stepped forward and simply chose to be apart of it even if from afar.

“It’s beautiful.” She said, looking out at the dark waters.

“Mmhm.” Jo hummed next to Annette, hands in her pockets. “Makes everything feel just a little bit more worth it…doesn’t it?”

“I have to admit. It does.” She said, completely fixated on the view ahead. ”how often do you do this?”

“Not very.” Jo replied, bending down to take a seat with her feet hanging off the ledge. “Only when things start to feel useless again…it’s nice watching people live sometimes. Makes me feel like I’m part of something even though I’m not.”

Annette looked down at her for a moment. The blue light reflected off Jo’s red hair with a lavender hue, and Annette looked back out in a frenzy of thought.

“How do you do it…” She spoke up out of curiosity.

“Do what?” Jo looked over at her.

“Keep going?”

Jo hid a little smirk and looked back out.

“I can’t die.” She replied like an idiot.

“Well yeah-“ Annette bit back, but she was genuinely curious. How is it that you can live this long, this way and not miss the human experience at all? Sure death is scary, but it cant be lonely…can it?
Annette crouched down, sitting next to Jo.

“But…how do you keep going if you know you’ll never stop going? What is there to look forward to when theres no time limit? I mean- when you live for this long, i assume you must have done almost everything by now…”Annette said.

Not many people seemed to look at it that way, but it was amazing that there was somebody who actually understood even the smallest concept of what being immortal actually meant.

“Not everything.” Jo replied. “I cant say I’ve done everything…but I can say that the things i have done are things that are worth my time. Things like this…”

She looked over at Annette with a content expression, and then back out at the water.

“Whatever that drive is, it comes from the small things…like those people down there. They still laugh and make music like humans always have. And the water. It’s the same old current thats flowed in the same old direction for centuries…and its new things…new people like you. People who understand, who are willing to listen…who don’t give to shits about what a person is…but rather who they are.”

They locked eyes, and Annette wasn’t sure how to take any of that. However, part of her was flattered at the fact that she knew exactly where Jo. Was coming from, and it felt good to be seen.

“You actually think that highly of someone that you just met?” She asked under her breath.

A faint breeze passed through the air, brushing past the both of them, and the pale blue light that lit up the sides of the building flickered. Blink once, and you would have missed it.

“I do…” Jo replied just as quiet.

Annettes eyes scanned Jo’s face, likely without her realizing her one actions. Either way, it would have been hard for her to resist, even if she tried. It was quiet. Too quiet for comfort. And suddenly, there was an invisible string that sat between them, and it only grew tighter and tighter, and smaller and smaller until she couldn’t help but let it drag her closer, and Jo fell victim to it just as much as she did. Before she could even think to fight it off, her nose brushed against the cold skin of Jo’s….

And her eyes shot open. On her nightstand, the alarm on her phone was peaceful, but it still somehow sent a rush of adrenaline through every vain in her body. She looked around at the dark room before reaching out to shut off the alarm.
With a groan, she rubbed her eyes.

“What in the hell?” She thought to herself and continued to sit there with a dull confusion on her face. To be fair, it’s been three days since she met Jo for dinner, and it wasn’t anything but a civil meeting between acquaintances, thats all. I mean - There was no denying that she was certainly fond of Jo and the excitement that she brought with her, but Annette was in no place be accepting things that she would have never seen coming. If anything, she should be mourning Theodore, enjoying her independence, and better knowing herself…not over analyzing her dreams like some first century oracle.

Whatever. Jo probably won’t be coming back at this rate, and it was just a dream: it means absolutely nothing. She has things to get done anyway, so she peeled herself out of the bed and moved on into her routine.

***

Unlike Annette, Jo wasn’t able to enjoy whatever dreams may come to her in her days of rest, and, unlike her own, the coffin next to her had two people in it. As bad as she would love to be sleeping right now, the sounds next to her, that were very obviously evidence of Arlo and Ellie’s lack of self control, were just loud enough to keep anyone from sleeping.

She laid there, in her shitty old Christmas pajama pants and black tank top that she’s had since the 70’s, with jaded look of pure lassitude. Her eye twitched, and yours would too if you had been third wheeling the same man for at least a century. Heightened sense of hearing - not her friend.

For a moment, she sat and thought to herself as she often did. Theres a lot of wrong that she’s done in her one hundred and seventy-two years of both life and death, but now she just wanted to know where - specifically - she went wrong and what the hell she did to have to sit and listen to her companion tear his girlfriend to pieces.

There was a small thud on the lid of Arlo’s coffin, followed by a very obvious - yet quiet - moan. Jo opened the lid to her own, and a small beam of light from the curtains stood between their coffins, and she tried to get his attention. It obviously wasn’t going to work; it probably wouldn’t work on anyone.
She grumbled and reached for her journal that she kept in the lid for emergency purposes, and she threw it. She threw it, and it hit the lid. Arlo lifted the lid with a creak, just as agitated as any lovebird.

“What.” He grumbled.

“Shut the hell up?” She bit back.

Arlo rolled his eyes and closed the lid back. Jo bade a similar face, and did the same, settling back into the deep silky red of her own coffin. The noise settled for the most part, but there was no denying that it was still there and it was certainly no lullaby to fall asleep to.

***

Because storytelling is an absolute nightmare to disperse amongst the people, you know exactly what is coming next. If you didn’t assume that Annette had a slightly miserable and lengthy shift, and she is about to go home, then I advise you to rethink your views on my writing style.

“You alright kiddo?” Asked Dale as he and Annette stepped down from the bus.

“Yeah? Why?” Annette replied rather coherently.

“You’re just a bit out of it recently. Everythin’ alright back home?”

Sure. She’s hundreds of miles away from her mom and dad and quite thrilled to be, actually, but “home”, to be completely honest, wasn’t what 10 year old Annette would have called it. Even if Theo was alive, she wasn’t sure if it would have felt any different than it does now.

“Yeah.” She replied. “It’s a bit complicated actually…I don’t sleep as much as I used to.” She tried to soften it all up with a chuckle.

“I tell you what, it just gets crazier.” He joked back. “Wait until you get to my age. Your ankles start swelling, your back gets to aching, and the wife gets to nagging because you ain’t allat anymore. I tell you, enjoy the years while you can.”

“I’ll try.” She said with a shake of the head.

“Let me guess. Boyfriend troubles?” He asked, and Annette just looked at him. “Oh. Tell him to screw off. Ain’t nobody got time for that. Not in no place like this. You’re just a kid, not his momma. Get out there and do something for you.”

Dale patted her on the shoulder. He was more of a sweet old southern grandfather to her than a coworker, really. He brings everybody a homemade peach cobbler on their birthdays, and Annette always got a very out of place cocktail umbrella stuck in hers. Why? She was never really sure, but she appreciated the kind gesture anyways.

“I’ll do my best. Thanks, Dale.” Said Annette with a soft expression.

“No. I now you can. And you will. I ain’t never met nobody as persistent as you, girl.” He replied with firm encouragement. “Now let’s get movin’. Trish made cube steak for dinner, and she might beat me if I ain’t home before 11.”

Annette agreed, and told Dale that she needed to grab her coat before they made their way out. He was right, though. There was only one way to go now, and that was up. Slowly, Annette knew that she would come to better terms with that.
She grabbed her coat, but was suddenly stopped…stopped by none other but herself, surprisingly enough. She looked back at the bus, over at Dale, and thought for a moment.

“Actually Dale…you know what, I just remembered that I uh- I left something on the bus. You go ahead, and I’ll lock up.”

“Are ya sure?” He asked.

“Yeah-“ She looked at the bus again. “I got it.”

“Oookay! See you next shift, kiddo!”

“Bye…!” She shouted back, her mind, unnoticeably to him, elsewhere.

Annette walked over to the bus, part of her hoping that she might be able to catch a certain someone who shes caught lurking around the warehouse before. She didn’t want to… perhaps risk locking anybody in, so a quick weep might not hurt. She stood at the front, looking very vaguely around the bus. It was still, quiet, vacant.
A reason that she couldn’t really pinpoint, she felt a pang of disappointment in her chest. She then realized how stupid this was, and she had a pretty good idea as to why she felt the way that she did. One crazy dream, and reality turns into a pile of mush.

Anyways…she got off the bust and headed for the back door, forcing herself into thinking that this whole thing was incredibly stupid and she needs to get her emotions in check right now before-

“So what did I miss?” Said a tall woman who was leaning on the bricks right outside of the back door with her arms crossed.

Once again, Annette nearly jumped right out of her skin and collapsed on the sidewalk in front of god and everyone.

“Jesus-!” She nearly dropped her keys and her cheeks instantly went pink as she scrambled not to drop anything. “Where did you come from?!”

“Errr… dinner…? Are you alright- i didnt actually intend on scaring you like that…” She replied, a nervous smile.

All black…tight t shirt…leather jacket with rolled up sleeves…Docs…wow.

“No- no- I’m good- I’m fine. I’m just- I didn’t…um…I just didn’t expect anybody to be there…? Let alone you…” Annette replied like the idiot she never expected herself to be. God shed love to punch herself in the face.

“Well i hope I’m not intruding.” Jo said.

Annette froze, straightening up. How many times had she heard that now…? Who knows, but intruding was certainly not a word that she was very inclined to agree with. If anything, intruding was far from possible if it was-
Annette caught herself and quickly jumped to her words again.

“No! No…Im just- i didn’t sleep well last night. It’s been a long day.” She Babbled and tried to start walking in hopes that not looking at Jo would make this much less excruciating of an interaction.

Obviously, Jo followed along behind with her hands in her pockets. Yeah very cool, Jo. A real ladies man.

“Soooo… am I allowed to hang around, or should i leave you beeeee? Im not exactly getting the memo here…” Jo said bluntly.

Annette stopped without turning around.

“No no. You’re okay. Im sorry-“ She rubbed her eyes and pushed her hair back. “I uh- I don’t know what my problem is.”

Jo’s brows furrowed. To her, this kind of thing was not her territory and navigating was like putting a bird in a glass maze and telling it to find the end. Nearly impossible.

“Do you want to…talk about it?” She asked apprehensively.

Annette looked at Jo with an expression that was synonymous with at least six different versions of the word “dumbfounded”; she wasn’t exactly how to react to that question, and she also wasn’t sure why that was.

“Do I- do I want to talk about it?” She asked

“Yes?” Jo turned her head, equally as confused.

“I dont-“ Annette began, but she wasn’t exactly sure what was actually going to come out of her mouth.

“You don’t have to.” Jo interrupted.

“No..no. It’s not that. It’s just-“ She sighed and turned back around to walk home. “I don’t know. Its okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“Uhh. Okay.” Jo replied and continued to trail behind. “Did I do something? Or…say something…y’know, to upset you?”

“What? No! I just…didn’t really expect you to come back again. I mean- we got everything cleared up the other night, so I just kind of figured we’d…go our own ways.” She replied, that last bit coming out as more of a mutter.

It wasn’t exactly something that she was willing to put into the universe, but it was true.

“Would you like me to?” Jo questioned lightheartedly.

“To what?” Annette looked at her.

“Go my own way. I’ll leave you alone…if thats what you want?”

She didn’t want to , but Jo knew deep down that, if it was asked of her, she’d do it anyway.

It was quiet for a moment before Annette looked forward again.

“No…it’s okay. I don’t mind it…” She admitted, growing rather comfortable with a vampire walking her home. She shrugged. “You’re pretty alright i guess.”

Jo smiled at that.

“Just ‘alright’? Really?” Jo teased.

“Yeah. Id like you better if you’d quit appearing out of nowhere.” Annette replied, fighting the smile that threatened her lips.

“Oh-“ Jo chuckled. “So you’re not a fan of my mysterious ways.”

“Please. ‘Mysterious’ is not the word for you.”

Jo shook her head as they walked and carried out their unpreventable bickering. It was comfortable, and it was like a breath of fresh air in a room full of- well- nothing.

“Is this going to be a routine for you?” Annette asked quietly as to not wake her neighbors.

She turned the key and looked at Jo before she even considering opening the door, her hand resting on the handle.

“I don’t know.” Jo shrugged. “Do you want it to be?”

Annette shrugged too.

“I mean- I certainly don’t have a problem with it. It’s quite convenient…y’know…our sleep schedules are a bit skewed.” Annette smiled and looked at her feet and back up.

“Yeah- yeah that would be quite true, I fear. But it’s nice to have somebody else to talk to, I won’t lie. Sometimes things get a bit-”

“Lonely.” Annette finished her sentence; shes heard that one before. “Yeah. I get it. Now, more than ever.” She chuckled again.

Jo didn’t know what else to do other than just look at her. If she had been any more careful about it, that expression may have been way less fond of Annette than it already was. She chuckled too.

“Well…” Annette looked anywhere but at Jo’s face. “I guess I should probably settle down for the night…”

“Yeah…yeah…” Jo muttered. “The company was nice though…”

“Yeah…” Annette pursed her lips and looked up at her for a second. “It was. Err…goodnight, Jo.”

“ ‘Night…” Jo replied with a subtle smile, and Annette went inside.

That was…a disaster, thought Jo.

Chapter Text

The apartment door closed behind Jo with a quiet click, and Arlo looked over from the TV. Ellie was cuddled up by his side, scrolling on her phone as the movie continued to roll.

“You’re back late.” He said. It was only around one in the morning, not too late for Jo, but everyone was usually back in the house by eleven o’clock if not midnight.

Getting dinner never did take long unless the two or three of them decided to take a night out on the town. Then again, most places were closed after a certain time, so that didn’t exactly happen often.

“What do you want me to say? I like my alone time.” She said, trying to very calmly shut down the interrogation as soon as possible. She looked ver at the TV, her expression dropping almost immediately.

“Nosferatu. Really?” She asked like a mother who has given up on taking care of any bullshit.

“It’s a good movie!” He argued.

“Literally all she does it have an orgasm for an hour and a half.”

“It’s a two hour movie.” Arlo corrected her.

“How is that better?” She asked. That was a dumb question: most of Arlo’s existence consisted of feeding his libido, plucking a guitar, and being nosey. “Plus! Vampires aren’t even anything like that.” Jo said pointing at the decrepit Russian corpse man on the screen.

“They aren’t horny, or they aren’t ugly?” He asked.

‘The second one. You’re physical evidence of the first one being very accurate.” She bit back.

“Alright, that’s low.”

“Yeah, but you know its true—”

Ellie quickly shifted, reading an article from her phone. She tapped Arlo on the arm to get his attention.

“Look at this,” She said.

“What?” He leaned over as she read it.

“A woman was found about three hours ago at the end of Riverstreet.” She pointed to a passage. “It says, ‘she was found at 11:26pm on the bank near the waving girl statue, face down in the grass. Authorities were quick to arrive after receiving a call from a family who happened to be driving by. After a brief investigation, the time of death was determined to be between 9-10 o’clock, and it was no mistake that her condition was similar to the man found in Forsyth Park only weeks before. She had received a fatal wound to the neck and blood-loss that was far less than survivable.’”

Arlo looked at Jo with a look of concern — concern that literally any person with moral and ethical awareness should have in such a situation.

“What?” She asked as though she wasn’t being accused of something heinous.

“Did you do this…?” He asked. She was, in fact, being accused of this.

“What? No.” Jo suddenly — and rightfully so — became rather appalled at the question. “I wasn’t even on that side of town.”

She stepped forward, wanting to see the article that has only been up less than an hour.

“Jo, who else could have done it? We are the one of the only ones here, and we all have rules when it comes to this!” Arlo continued to argue.

“I’m telling you, I didn’t do it!”

“Arlo,” Ellie spoke up, “relax. It might just be somebody new in town. Vampires travel all the time when they get bored, we all know this.”

“Exactly!” Shouted Jo. “See! It happens all the time. Theres probably some other guy out there like us who has no empathy for the human race, but I swear to whatever is out there that it wasn’t me.”

“Okay, fine. It wasn’t you.” He gave in. “You weren’t there.”

“Thank you!” She shouted back, relieved that she didn’t have to continuously fight of allegations that Arlo never seemed to run out of.

“So, where were you?” He asked, genuinely curious.

Jo blinked. She didn’t want to tell him. Why? That’s the stupidest question literally ever. He was always in her business, and he always had something to say about it. Sure, he had no ill intentions — in fact, he only wanted what was best for her — but he never failed to say something that only made her feel like her never-ending life needed lots of improvement.

“Uh—Out. Elsewhere. Getting dinner.” She said.

“Where.” Arlo caught on, his eyes narrowing.

“Why does it matter?” She matched his demeanor.

“It doesn’t.”

“Broughton.”

Broughton was a street that stretched horizontally near the center of the city. Similar to Riverstreet and City Market, it was where people went when they were looking for somewhere else to entertain themselves. Hotels, theaters, world-famous ice cream shop, comic stores, regular stores, restaurants…it was all there.

“You’re lying.” He decided with hardly a second thought.

To be entirely fair, they’ve been living together and around each other since the forties, so there was no such thing as being secretive or lying. Well, there was, but it was never successful.

“No I’m fucking not.” She laughed, evidently offended at the fact he’d drag this out.

He finally raised his eyebrows and tilted his head; the final test. They knew each other better than they knew how to get away with murder, and Arlo was the kind of guy to miss absolutely nothing. Ellie just watched; there was no getting between them.

“Im not!” Jo shouted again, trying with every ounce of her cold, dead being to keep him out of her business.

“Really.” He confirmed.

“Yes…” She replied with confidence. “I was on Broughton for most of the night…after I stopped at the warehouse.”

Well there goes that. She knew she wasn’t getting away with it without him being uncomfortably, and unnecessarily, suspicious for the next year.

“Oh my god, Jo. I knew it.”

“Arlo, no. You’re gonna make her self conscious.” Ellie jumped in before they got into another useless fight.

“If you like her, just ask her out for fucks sake. Its not hard.” He said, ignoring his girlfriend.

Jo suddenly looked quite shocked at the suggestion, and a high pitched noise left the back of her throat.

“It is kind of obvious…” Ellie said timidly; Jo was known to have a short fuse.

“Im not gonna ‘ask her out’! Are you crazy? I do not like her like that!” Jo continued to argue, now, with the both of them.

“Yes you do.” Arlo said.

“Okay—well—shes a human, so, even if I did, it wouldn’t work out anyway.”

“See. There you go again with the negative bullshit. Oh my god. If you’re so pro-vampire-human-segregation, then just turn her or something. You don’t have to make it all weird and problem-y!”

“Are you serious?” She looked at him stupidly. “Im not going to turn her, Arlo. That’s not how that works. Some people actually enjoy their human lives.”

“Well, some people think its hot.”

Ellie smacked his arm and shook her head at him. Social queues: they’re important.

“Okay.” Jo took a breath and gave up. “I’m not doing this so…uh—if you need me, I’ll be in my coffin because this conversation is no longer happening. Do not come looking for me unless you wanna talk about something other than my personal life. ‘Kay? Thanks guys.”

And with that, Jo took a step back and went up the stairs.

“I love you,” said Ellie, “but you really need to work this out.”

“What? What did I do?” He said, genuinely confused.

“You’re just…preoccupied — Preoccupied with somebody’s life that isn’t yours.” She said in hopes that it wasn’t too harsh. “I mean…you come and visit me, and you’re just fine. We talk, we go out, we spend time together. Its great. I come to visit you, and you act like you have to take care of Jo all the time.”

“I don’t ‘take care of her’. I just don’t want anything bad to happen.”

“What is gonna happen? You of all people should know that we are not fragile creatures.” She said, almost rhetorically.

She sighed.

“All I’m saying is that I want to spend time with you, but it’s hard to do when you’re always taking care of someone who can take care of themselves. Im not saying that because I’m jealous, Arlo, I’m saying that because there are some things you just need to let go…”

He went quiet. He knew she was right, and she knew that too. The next step was to actually follow through with her advice. He didn’t think he had the strength to do it after all this time, but he had even less strength when it came to a woman telling him what to do. In other words, breaking habits for a human was hard, but imagine what it was like to break a habit as a vampire.

***

In her brooding in impulsive state, Jo stood in front of the open window at the foot of their coffins. Her arms were crossed, and her face had some kind of expression on it that could have been read as many things: pain, conflict, stoicism.

Seriously, why now? Every decision shes ever made, every person she’s ever met, its all just one brick in the big wall of useless existence that shes built for herself. Why now is it all hitting at once?

She looked over at the desk that she and Arlo shared and thought for a moment. She was supposed to be in her coffin — At least, that’s what she told the lovebirds — but something just continued to stir in her chest. It was like something was trying to claw its way out, pounding at her ribs, begging for some kind of release. She opened the drawer and dug around old picture books and photographs. She moved an old picture of her and Arlo when they tried to start a band back in the 80s, and underneath it was a little maroon box. She took it and went back to the window.

***

Tap. Tap. Tap. On the window. Annette turned on her side, pulling the comforter with her. Jo sighed, and then she began to knock. There was no time for this. She looked down at the ground that was a good ten feet below her and then looked back at the window, knocking once more.

Finally, Annette very groggily shifted and opened her eyes to a dark room and a dim light that peeked through the blinds. There was another sound, and Annette finally came to with confusion. She sat up and thought for a moment, tapping her phone to check what time it was and what could possibly be at her window…her window which was actually quite high up.

She pulled on the blinds, and as the panels shifted, she was met with slightly panicked gold eyes and deep red hair. She jumped back, not exactly expecting a person to be at her window, which was perfectly reasonable despite Jo being not just any person. Before she could even think to stop herself, she pulled on the other string and lifted the blinds and rather quickly unlocked the window.

“Jo. What the hell are you doing? It’s the middle of the night.” She said, appalled and very confused at the whole situation.

“I know — I know. It’s weird—” She replied in an attempt to keep this moving.

“Yeah, it’s weird. I have a front door. You should probably use it.”

“Okay. It doesn’t work like that, and you wouldn’t have been able to hear me anyways. I cant stay long so just listen to me for at least a second.”

Jo reached into the pocket of her leather jacket, still holding onto some sort of fixture by the widow with her other hand. She pulled out the little maroon box and set it on the window seal.

“I need you to take this. I’ll leave you alone if that’s really what you’d like me to do, but theres something happening that we aren’t exactly sure of yet. We think theres another vampire in town, and whoever it is doesn’t care for any rules. If you go getting hurt, I wont be able to help feeling responsible for it, so take it. It’s pure silver. We can’t bother touching you as long as you have it on your person.” Jo explained.

Annette rubbed her eyes. It was way too early in the morning for this, and now she had to worry about potentially dying. Love that.

“What — what are you talking about?” She asked.

“There are rules here. We don’t kill women or children, Annette, and one of us has. A woman was found on Riverstreet, dead. Just trust me. Take the box, and do not go out without it.” Jo said with a panic-induced sternness.

“Okay fine.” Annette gave up and took the box. “What about you then? If whatever is out there cant touch me, then you can’t touch me either.”

“I don’t want to kill you so it doesn’t matter.”

Annette blinked.

“Jo, what the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know yet, but you just have to trust me.” Jo said before looking around; she was clearly in a hurry.

“Okay. Well I’d like to know what is happening. Am I seeing you again? Are you just going to disappear for days on end? Am I just gonna be fending for my life while you’re out doing whatever it is you do? Just tell me whats happening. Maybe I can help!”

“No. I don’t want you getting involved until we know whats going on. I have to go though. I promise I will explain it to you on another night.” Jo began to scale her way down the brick wall. “Im sorry.”

“Wait! you cant just—”

And she heard Jo’s feet hit the concrete. Annette lunged forward, trying to see if she could still catch her running off, but she was gone.

She muttered something to herself in frustration, and then she looked down at the little box in her hand. She thought for a moment — god knows about what — and she looked back at the window. What did she get herself into?

Inside the box was an old, yellowing card with the name Sinclair printed right in the middle, and underneath it was a necklace. Connected to the chain, there was a silver cross with gothic patterns carefully carved into the small piece of metal. Whether or not shed like to admit it, it was actually quite pretty. She ran her fingers over the detailing, and she looked back at the window with a sigh.

How was she supposed to find Jo again if she didn’t have any way to reach her. Annette didn’t even know if she had a phone. Do vampires have phones? Some must do. How else would they survive the 21st century?

This was stupid. So incredibly stupid to her that it was all starting to fit together. Her life was about to get so much more interesting than she would have ever expected, and, if she knew just three weeks ago that she’d be buddy-buddy with a vampire, she would have never believed it. Why? Because it would have been bullshit.

Notice how the last sentence was phrased in the past tense. Using the word “was” is evidence of something changing between the then and the now. Well — then, her existence was thoroughly fabricated by fact: things that she has physical proof of. That’s why she was a historian. Now, the lines between fact and reality were beginning to blur, and she had no choice but to believe that the things happening before her were real.

Most people in a similar situation would probably end up rethinking their entire existence and declare that their “whole life was a lie.” Not Annette. Sure, she was deeply confused and overwhelmed by an entirely new world of possibilities, but she was also a deeply curious person. Her curiosity often sent her down rabbit holes and endless roads of learning, and its been that way since she could pick up a book and read.

Knowing Annette, she wasn’t gonna listen to Jo. Why? Because she wasn’t helpless, and the last thing she wanted to do was not know what was going on. Her immediate course of action: leave the work meeting she had at the warehouse and go straight to the address on that mysterious business card.

The evening was creeping closer as the sky slowly started turning pink. It was maybe about 5 o’clock in the afternoon, and the bell above the door rang as Annette stepped into the parlor. Mama Sylvie looked over as she handed a customer their change. She smiled.

“Ah. It is good to see you again,” said mama with a warm smile.

All Annette knew to do was give her a warm smile in return, but she chose to wait until the man at the counter made his exit before speaking.

“I need your help.” Annette said as soon as the door closed behind him.