Tainted Love

Being Human

What on earth is wrong with this girl? Carrie kept thinking.

First, she willingly walked into a vampire bar, then tested her luck by pulling out a stake, and now she wanted to take Carrie for a drink after what she just saw? Carrie couldn't understand it. How could Angela trust her so willingly? How could Carrie trust her?

You like her, and she likes you. Carrie had lived long enough to know the signs, and this notion convinced the vampire to go against her better judgement. Yes, Angela was a werewolf and young, but age gaps were unavoidable with vampires. Plus, Carrie knew vampires centuries older than Angela and far less mature.

You could argue it was reckless to stand up to those imbeciles and bring a stake to a fang fight. Yet, Carrie admired that Angela was clever enough to take such precautions to protect herself. Initially, she thought Angela might've been a hunter, just pretending to be a damsel in distress who couldn't use a stake so that she could turn Carrie into a dusty kebab. It had happened before. Hunters had infiltrated vampire strongholds to take a stab at a prolific, long-sought target like her, but this wasn't the case. No hunter was that convincing an actor.

Angela might've shouted at the shady vampires, waved a stake at them, and assumed what she thought was a casual attitude afterward, but Carrie had seen her hands tremble. She'd recognised the look of fear in Angela's eyes. And if the werewolf were lying, Carrie would've detected the tell-tell signs of her heartbeat.

No, Angela was just a scared young woman who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

'Where did you want to go?' Carrie asked her.

'I don't know, actually,' Angela replied, replacing the stake in her bag. 'I only moved here recently. I'm still finding my way around. Where would you recommend?'

'I've got an idea, but it's not in walking distance.'

'We could get a taxi?'

'I'd rather ride,' Carrie indicated to one of the bikes behind Angela.

The werewolf's eyes widened in surprise. 'That's yours?'

Carrie nodded and unchained her motorcycle. It was in pristine condition, glossy black with red highlights, bigger and superior to the rest. She'd built it from scratch and invested a lot of time and money to make it her prized possession.

'Haven't you been drinking?' Angela asked as Carrie unclipped a matte black helmet from her bike.

'My condition gives me a greater tolerance. Hold this; I forgot my jacket.'

Carrie thrust the helmet into Angela's hands and promptly re-entered The Moon Under Water. Behind the bar, Russell dropped the rag he was using to clean pint glasses.

'I forgot my jacket,' Carrie said.

'Well?' Russell asked as she tugged her jacket free from the stool she'd been sitting on. 'What happened?'

'It's all sorted,' Carrie replied, pulling her arms through the sleeves.

Russell couldn't cope with how nonchalant she was being. 'And where are you going now?'

'For a drink.'

'With...?'

'Uh huh.'

Russell crossed his arms and smirked. 'You never fail to impress me. You know that?'

Carrie ignored him, refusing to give in to his smugness, and headed for the door. 'I'll see you on Saturday. Let me know how it goes.'

'You too!' Russell shouted after her, but she was already gone. He shook his head, smiling, and resumed his menial task.