I shuffled up the driveway to Peter Brannigan’s house warily, not knowing what to expect. My grandmother hadn’t given me much information other than his name and address, and the assurance he could help me.
Carl strolled along beside me; being outside in the fresh air made it much easier for me to avoid sniffing at him like a hungry wolf. I felt a lot more human in the daylight; the thirst was weakest in the afternoon. The sun wasn’t particularly good for me, but I was pale-skinned and red-headed; the same could be said for anyone with my complexion.
Peter’s house was in a nice area with lots of families, dogs, and unnecessary seven-seaters. Safe from the other world; the one most of his neighbours didn’t believe in. Even safer than the world I lived in, with its dirt and crime. Going from my home to Peter’s was like passing through a portal into another dimension. Strange, that the person who could help me lived in the middle of a suburb.
Uncomfortable about suddenly welcoming so many humans into my life, I hesitated at the door. I glanced at Carl who stood too still, staring at me with emotionless eyes. I screwed up his life, so I had to fix it. I rang Peter Brannigan’s doorbell before I could change my mind.
A man answered the door, and I found myself appreciating his appearance. He wasn’t pretty like Carl, or as tall, but something about him seemed so safe and solid that I wanted to tuck myself under his arm and be protected.
He was young enough, maybe thirty, but his eyes were old and weary. Combined with the long scar across his chin, I just knew he’d seen more than his fair share of trouble. He had cropped sandy brown hair, and hazel eyes that stared into mine until I flushed with heat. I realised I had been so busy crushing on him that I hadn’t even heard his heartbeat or smelled his blood. I figured he must be Peter’s son or something.
“You looking for someone?” he said, his eyes flashing between myself and Carl. I was sure I didn’t imagine his eyes lingering on me.
“Uh, yeah, sorry,” I said, getting my head together. “I’m Ava. I was given this address and told to look for a Peter Brannigan. I have a, uh, problem I need some help with.” I hoped I didn’t sound like too much of an idiot.
He stared at us both for a couple more seconds, his eyes sweeping over me appraisingly once more before he nodded, his face unreadable.
“I’m Peter. Come on in.”
As soon as I stepped over the threshold, a bright light zeroed in on me, accompanied by a loud alarm.
“What the...?”
Peter’s expression turned to horror and then rage as he lifted his arm. I stared at the ceiling for a few seconds before realising he had hit me. Hard. My brain signals finally caught up, and white hot pain seared through my jaw.
I tried to sit up, only to see Peter fling Carl off his back like he was possessed. He jumped on me before I could react. Pinning me to the ground, his face contorted with anger making him look psychotic. I was too shocked to struggle. The siren stopped, but I was still seeing lights.
“What did you do?” he snarled. “Force some sorcerer to make a talisman that lets you move around during the day?” He shifted until one knee held down my arm while the other leaned too hard on my throat.
“What? No! What are you talking about?” I gasped for air, panicking when I realised his position was cutting off my air supply. “I can’t breathe. Get off me!” I swatted at him ineffectively, unable to take a good swing.
“Yeah right, bloodsuckers don’t breathe. Who sent you, bitch?”
His eyes darkened, and I slowly realised he would be happy to see me die right there on his floor. I struggled against him, frantic, and grabbed at his shirt sleeve until it exposed Celtic symbols tattooed on his biceps. My eyesight blurred from the lack of oxygen; I was too panicked to find his weak spot. Just in time, Carl pulled him off me and tossed him aside easily, much to my relief. I sucked in air too quickly for my lungs to cope with, setting off a minor coughing fit.
