The fortressed edge of wrought iron and stone that lined the long exterior of Greenwood cemetery faded from view until all traces of the city of the dead vanished entirely, the vista replaced instead by continuing rows of brownstones and more crowded cafes along Brooklyn sidewalks with Victorian styled lamps. There were so many parts of New York City that allowed for a bit of time travel. Or, in their case, that allowed touchstones of their past to remain as familiar comforts in seas of change.
“And you’ve someplace in mind?” Alyssa asked, trying to keep impatience from her tone.
“But of course,” Javier opened his arm in a gesture. A garden level of a corner brownstone had recently become a candlelit wine-bar within the last week. Bars and restaurants popped up in NYC practically overnight, it was uncanny. The walls were drenched in red-velvet, as if the small venue were built just to court the likes of them.
Alyssa rolled her eyes as they descended the sandstone stairs. “We’re playing pretend again? To sit and sup like them? This is your refined idea? And this will help my hunger how?”
Javier scoffed. “Oh, ye of little faith.”
They were soon seated in the coziest, most romantic corner. They sat shadowed in a booth with carved wooden panels, an ornate Arabian red glass lamp above their heads, casting their flawless faces in a soft red light reminiscent of the blood-lust cresting in Alyssa’s body, descending like a veil and making rational thought increasingly difficult. Two wine glasses stood ready before them, and a red wine of fine and expensive vintage sat against the wall, a hopeful suggestion.
“Wait here,” Javier murmured, standing. His captivating eyes sparkled.
Alyssa raised an eyebrow. “Why?" Javier plucked a bottle from the interior pocket of his coat. His long black coat looked immaculate for being nearly a century old. It never ceased to amaze Alyssa what wonders lie in the corners of Javier’s great-coat.
He rose and motioned to the handsome waiter who had seated them. The young man was immediately by Javier’s side, as if awaiting orders. Javier had no ethical problem wielding the full array of his powers of persuasion. While it was not Alyssa’s style, it did have its amusements. At heart, she knew Javier was made of something worthwhile. And so she tolerated his games. Javier placed his hand on the man’s shoulder and Alyssa watched as the youth blushed and followed as Javier went into the restroom.
Alyssa’s nostrils flared, her body clenching with hungry desire and prayed he’d be quick and clean about it. A few moments passed before the youth came gliding back out, his eyes slightly glassy, rubbing his wrist, his shirtsleeves safely buttoned, the fabric conveniently black, to hide traces of blood that would likely drip from the small puncture wounds before healing with preternatural speed. He would likely only remember some torrid kiss or just be left with a daydream.
“Hello love,” Javier murmured, standing at her side in an instant, towering over her, a flicker of crimson upon his bright white teeth. He slid the great-coat from his shoulders and draped it over the booth. Several pairs of eyes were on them. Alyssa tried to psychically cancel the emanating allure that came with their kind, but grimaced, knowing this would only let Elan in instead. He’d surely try again now that she’d tried to block her more captivating qualities from the humans.
As Javier took his seat Alyssa leaned in towards him, gesturing towards the dazed waiter. “I’m not sure he adheres to my rules of selection, Javier…” she said with a hiss of disapproval.
“You’re too hungry to care,” Javier said lightly. “Besides. He likes it. Isn’t the first time.” Javier uncorked the expensive red wine at their side and set it forward, leaving it there, open and untouched. A formality of a ruse.
He plucked the bottle again from his pocket, this time filled with viscous dark fluid. Uncorking it, Alyssa’s nostrils flared and she had to press her fists into the cushions to keep herself from seizing the bottle and gulping it desperately. Javier watched her taut muscles with amusement, pouring himself a thick splash into his wine glass, then slowly pouring a longer draught into hers.
“Bon appetit,” he murmured.
Alyssa snatched the glass and drank, feeling sense wash over her like a cool breeze on a sweltering day. The copper taste was welcome on her tongue, sliding thick down her throat. her gasping veins catching their steady breath once again.
Soon they were chatting, reminiscing, laughing, enjoying the sensuality of their surroundings and Alyssa felt the night becoming almost enjoyable, rousing her from her deadened sensibility and her morbid reveries. Perhaps this moment of small contentment was its own little curse.
Suddenly Alyssa was seized with pain. The pain pitched her forward, and she grasped the table for support, spilling and shattering her wine glass, the thick contents causing a garish crimson splash to deepen and spread over the crisp white linen tablecloth.
“Alyssa…” Javier gasped, jumping to his feet. His nostrils flared. She could feel power radiating from him. But it paled in comparison to what was radiating from within her.
From her temple all the way down to her feet, a strange, unfamiliar psychic pain flooded her. And she knew the source. She was right, Elan did try and reach out to her again. But suddenly he was not calling out in a lusty ploy. Suddenly it was a desperate, terrified cry for help.
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