Beautiful Fighters - an original vampire story (15+) (SAMPLE ONLY)

An obsession with food

Aaron, aka Aaron Eats, had watched them. How could a vampire, someone not able to taste food as he prepared it, make anything decent, he asked his viewers. Justin should cook with him, head-to-head. They would both prepare the same dishes and asked diners to work out who'd made what.

In the comments below the film, a restaurant owner had stepped forward. "Guys! Brilliant idea. You're welcome to use my venue."

"You've seen it then?"

Deborah confirmed she had.

Justin dipped his head. "Is it okay if I take part?" he asked Deborah, willing her to nod.

She paused for a while before answering. "Work experience is something I feel strongly about."

Deborah's secretary bustled in, bearing a tea tray loaded with old-fashioned China cups and a teapot. She glared at Justin—her reaction an all-too familiar one.

"Ailsa!" Deborah's expression shifted from encouragement to commandment. "Justin's been offered a wonderful opportunity. You should congratulate him."

She left no room for manoeuvre. Ailsa muttered, "well done," dumped the tray in front of them and fled.

Deborah's mouth twitched. "Sorry, Justin. I'm still trying to persuade her that you're not the bad guys. It's going to take some time. Remind me, can you drink tea?"

He shook his head. She poured herself a cupful. "Dreadful stuff anyway. Stains your cups and teeth like nothing else. Is becoming a professional chef your goal?"

"It used to be," Justin replied. But then vampirism came along and cut off that career path, along with everything else. An evening spent cooking in a professional kitchen wouldn't make him a chef, but the experience was as close as it might come.

He picked up one of the biscuits on the tray and sniffing it. "Burton Biscuits, right?"

Deborah picked up the packaging and turned it over. "Spot on."

"Made by robots. Using GM wheat. Trans-fats. Emulsifiers. A chemical that makes it last ninety days when the ingredient should have rotted after three. Thoughts about food..."

Inhabit too much of my waking day. But into the shower I take in the morning. Tiptoe their way into my sleep...

Deborah's nibbling of the biscuit stopped and she put it down. "There's a lot of paperwork needed to get you out of here."

"I know."

She got to her feet and snapped her fingers. The computer in the corner flickered into life and she snapped out the order for it to print out Form 362—the one that would grant him permission to leave the college before his official two years there was up.

I'm gonna get the chance to cook in a five-star restaurant! Justin dampened down the thought immediately. Vampire Security would throw up all sorts of obstacles, all safety related.

Paper copy in hand, Deborah opened her door. "Providing Vampire Security agrees, you're free to go ahead. In the meantime," her hand on the door handle, she turned back to face him, "why not show me what you're capable of? Shall we make our way to the catering unit?"

One blissed-out chancellor later—he'd made her deep-fried calamari with a soy dipping sauce—he headed for the Portacabins, happier than he'd been in forever. Sure, Maya cheered up everything but this... the chance to cook in a top restaurant, something he'd accepted as impossible thanks to vampirism.

Outside the Portacabins, Shayla greeted him, breaking off from a conversation with a group of students. Maya and Shayla's channel preached the 'be friends with vampires, they're just like you and me!' message but societal shifts took forever. This marked the first time he'd ever seen so many of them crowding around Shayla, begging for advice on how to make yourself a MyTV star.