Dead End Diner: Book one

by Bea Biddle

  “And you should not have been spying on me," he countered, "Sniffing about where you have not been invited. That down there, that is my private residence, I can do what I bloody well please down there. And that includes what I do to trespassers, who have no business being there in the first place," he finished with a smirk, leaning both elbows on the surface.

  Damn, he had her there. ”Yeah well,” Karen started, puffing up her chest before deflating it, realizing she had no good argument to throw at him. “I'm sorry, Sly, I didn't mean to sneak around your home. I guess I forgot it actually is your home and not just the diner.”

  “Apology accepted,” Sylvester said, raising his glass in the air in a mock toast. “And I am sorry I gave you that wonderful, immaculate, pleasurable experience. An experience that makes you even now, as we speak, consider coming back down there with me to feel even more.” He wiggled his eyebrow at her suggestively, his fangs glinting in the light as he grinned.

  Karen snorted. “Hardly,” she scoffed with as much conviction she could muster. Because she had, for just a brief, fleeting moment, she had entertained the idea. Very, very briefly, before she got a firm grip on herself.

  Sylvester cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes at her. "Are you sure?" he asked, "Because I could feel your need even as you came down the stairs, before I started working my wiles on you. You need to get laid, Kare-bear, and fast."

  Karen forced a laugh. “I have a boyfriend,” she choked out. “I am fine. Just fine.”

  “Whatever you say,” Sylvester said in a laugh, then pointed to the glass she was holding as if trying to crush it between her fingers. “Are you going to drink that or what?”

  She hadn't originally planned on it, she hated red wine, it was always so bitter. But at this point, she would have downed just about anything. She gulped down half of the glass, fast enough to regret it when she felt the rush claw up the back of her skull a few moments after. "So," she began, "So, who is that? Down there?" She motioned to the blood cellar. "Jake is it?"

  “That? That was my toy for tonight,” he said casually, shrugging. “I enjoy my toys, you know I do.” He drank heavily from his glass and Karen knew that was all she was going to get.

  “I guess,” she mumbled. And she had known he did, she knew what he was, she just never imagined she would be a witness to it. She nervously glanced over her shoulder at the kitchen doors in case this Were, this toy, came up to join them.

  Sylvester snorted at her, knowing exactly what was on her mind. “He didn't know you were there, relax.”

  “I was just- I was-” She sighed. “Oh shut up.” Quickly downing the rest of the content in her glass. “What's he doing down there?”

  Sylvester shrugged again. “Getting dressed I would assume. Using the toilet. Cleaning himself up, he did make quite the mess. I don't care,” he exasperated with such indifference, such genuine apathy, he made it feel as though the Were only came by to use the phone. “It's none of my concern what he does with himself now. My time with him is over.”

  The wine made her giggle at his response. “You are horrible, Sly, absolutely horrible,” she said with a shake of her head.

  “You're just jealous,” Sylvester teased. “Need I remind you that jealousy is a dangerous thing, my delicious little human. People do strange things out of jealousy. I think I may have been all too right in my earlier assumption.” He refilled her glass with an elegant flick of his wrist.

  ”Your earlier assumption being?” Karen asked as she grabbed the glass, but she already knew the answer. ”Oh no, don't start that again-”

  ”You have an itch that needs scratching and no one to scratch it.”

  ”I told you, I have a boyfriend," Karen hissed, "I get scratched, I get scratched all the time!" Not completely sure if she was defending herself or Colin at this point. "I mean, we scratch," she forced out, trying to act casual. "We do scratch when we have time." Sylvester raised an eyebrow at her and she continued with a defeated sigh, "I mean, just because our scratching hasn't had my eyes roll to the back of my head, or- or- or scream out the way your- uhm- your friend did, doesn't mean that- Time is just- the timing and everything and...” She trailed off when she realized she had given too much away, exposed too much and groaned before she drank heavily, trying to empty her glass again.

  ”Well, I would certainly give you a scratch if you are that desperate,” Sylvester said innocently, a seductive smirk on his tempting lips as he leaned towards her over the counter. ”All you have to do is ask.”

  ”Stop it, Sly," Karen said in a short-lived laugh and pushed him away. "I'm not desperate. And I'm certainly not jealous." She was, she regretfully acknowledged to herself, she was jealous. What she wouldn't give to have Colin make her pant and throb in response to his touch, to make her cry out the way she had just witnessed. She tried thinking back to a time that he had ever done that to her, a time they got lost in shared passion and flaming desire, but none came to mind. It had always just been alright, it had always been nice and comfortable and... boring. She stifled a groan. She didn't like thinking about it. She loved him, that was enough, it was supposed to be nice and comfortable. She looked at the glass in her hand. Empty again. How did that happen? Her ears felt hot. Her cheeks were warm, and she was sure they were red as a tomato. "Unfortunately, I think my problem is my annoying boyfriend," she muttered, surprising herself with the thought she had spoken out loud.

  "I have no problem with a three-".

  "I swear if you finish that sentence with a some I'm going to punch you," Karen warned with a raised eyebrow. "Get your mind out of the gutter."

  "Darling, it lives there."

  "Whatever," she yelled, flailing her arms in the air. "It's just, maybe I'm not getting enough from him at home. Affection, I mean," she quickly corrected herself when she saw Sylvester's eyes light up and his mouth opened for another slippery remark. "I mean, is it too much to ask? Just for some time? We haven't had sex in, like, forever."

  ”I thought relationships and this monogamy-" He sneered the word. "-I thought that was to ensure people did get it regularly. Otherwise, I see no point binding yourself to another person."

  "I know he's busy and all," Karen continued, barely registering his words, "But I have needs too, and- and- and-" She growled in frustration and sighed deeply again, calming herself down as much as she could. "I've been with him since high school," she said, feeling the need to explain, "He was sixteen and I was fifteen. We've grown up together. And I love him." The words fell in a whisper as she tightened her grip on the glass stem, "I really do, I love him," she said firmly as if she was the one who needed convincing. But then her tone changed again, infusing itself with guilt. "Although, recently, I've been entertaining the idea that maybe I just love having him around, having someone around, so that I'm not alone in this world. Being alone in this city scares me. Is that selfish?"

  Sylvester shrugged. ”I guess we all need someone to lean on sometimes.”

  Karen snorted. It was a standard answer and she felt like he was holding back. Besides, leaning on Colin was impossible, he was never there to be leaned on in the first place. She decided they needed a serious talk when she saw him next, she wanted him more involved in her life, she wanted to be more involved with his. They had to be able to, they just had to. Otherwise, what were they doing? All these years together would have been for nothing. No, they should fight for their relationship. She was just as guilty as him at half-assing it for far too long. They definitely needed more time together. Time to reignite the spark, that was what they needed.

  Sylvester slid his hand across the counter and started caressing her arm, his fingertips like ice cubes on her skin making her forget what she was busily telling herself. "But you are not alone,” he said softly, ”You have me. You have Alyssa. You have Zac. Even Cef, you know, when he's in a good mood anyway," he added with a chuckle. ”You're part of the team now.”

  She nodded absentmindedly, running her finger alon
g the rim of her glass, the way she had seen Sylvester do it when he was thinking, she had been itching to try it. "So, Cef?" she finally pressed out, "How- how well do you know him?” The wine had loosened her tongue, she really shouldn't be asking.

  "I've known him since he came through the rift, that was about thirty years ago now. He's one of the few I would call a genuine friend among us horrible monsters." He chuckled again. "He's nice to have around, I enjoy his company. He's a good guy, not at all the devil he looks like. Dependable and solid. That's our Cef." Karen nodded. Solid. That was definitely Cef. While Sylvester seemed to be a wispy entity, someone who would slip through your fingers if you tried to hold on to him, Cef was an ancient boulder, embedded in the ground, severe and hard. Unmoving. She liked it. She didn't doubt that if anyone was lucky enough to have him as their rock, he would hold the world for them. Her shoulders slumped at the thought and the small wistful sigh that escaped her didn't go unnoticed. Sylvester curled his lips into a sly grin that teased her, and she suddenly felt naked and exposed. "And he's not bad to look at either," he added, knowingly. "I quite enjoy that, too." Tipping his glass to her, he sipped nonchalantly and asked, "So, since you brought him up, what's the deal there?"

  "Deal? No deal!" Karen coughed out quickly.

  “Of course not, that's why you're asking me about him,” Sylvester said, his sarcasm evident as he tapped his finger on his bottom lip. His eyes shone with humor as he leaned towards her, resting his elbows on the counter. “I don't blame you, you know, he is quite a lovely piece of man flesh. What I wouldn't give for him to just grab me and...” He let the sentence end in a lewd growl. She almost wished he had finished it, it could only be better than what she was thinking. “Could you imagine what that kind of man could do?” he asked as if he had read her mind. “What he is capable of?”

  “I- I-” Yes! Many times! "I don't care what he can or can't do," she said instead. "I am far, far from interested in Ceftion." Sylvester said nothing, merely raised one his eyebrow at her in a challenge, prompting her to go on. "I mean, for starters, he's entirely too big," she heard herself say, regretting it instantly. Sylvester's other brow rose, with a wide grin he was about to spout some more slippery remarks, but she went on before he could, "Stop it, Sly, I didn't mean that." Although it is entirely possible that a man of that impressive bulk would be a little too big for comfort, her traitorous thoughts added. She quickly stared into her glass of wine, swirling it around. What kind of wine was this making her think like that? “No, what I meant was, he's huge, he's a walking fucking mountain of a man. He's too big. He- he- you know what? He called me a human, Sly. A human!" she spat out venomously.

  "What a bastard!" Sylvester mocked outrage.

  Karen was so busy hanging on to her hatred for Cef that she didn't notice he wasn't being serious. "I know, right? What a dick. Seriously, calling me a human." Sylvester covered his laughter with a cough. "And you know what else he does?" Karen continued, "Sly, he paints. He fucking paints, Sly. And I'm not talking just splashing some color on a canvas here. No. These are intricate, wonderful paintings." She snorted and pushed her glass over to him, motioning for him to fill it again. He did.

  "Bloody hell, he sounds like a complete brute," Sylvester said.

  Karen nodded vigorously. "He's- he's- " But then she saw his smile. "You're just fucking with me," she acknowledged in a defeated sigh, unable to stop the laughter bubbling up from her chest. "I hate you, Sly."

  "Doubtful.”

  Their shared laughter was penetrated by the kitchen door swinging open. Jake stood in the doorway, pulling on his t-shirt. An action that made Karen groan inwardly at the loss of his exposed chest. Sylvester had been right, he was beautiful, and certainly not just for a Were. His feet shuffled, on his face a look of unease when his gaze landed on her. ”I didn't know anyone was still here. I thought all your employees went home for the day.” Karen felt incredibly guilty again. He thought she had heard them going at it in the basement, if only he knew what she had seen. The guilt poured into her anew, making her blush again.

  "She just came back for her bag," Sylvester said, his usual bored tone back in place. He didn't look up at Jake, instead focused on refilling his glass.

  "Found it." Karen held up her bag as proof a little too eagerly. "Just came for my bag." Jake just gave a short hesitant nod and let out a ragged breath of relief.

  "You may leave now," Sylvester told him. Leaning on his elbow on the counter with the same old attitude, and his usual glass of blood, he was the very image of pure arrogance.

  "Leave? Now?" Jake asked.

  "Yes, you may leave now, We're done for tonight, are we not?" Sylvester sipped his blood, barely deigning Jake a glance. Karen sat ramrod straight on the stool, afraid to look in any direction.

  "I guess, I- Good morning then," Jake said, a little dumbstruck. He ran a hand through his shaggy hair and walked out the door. The bell rang loudly as he slammed it shut.

  "That was rude of you," Karen pointed out after a few seconds in silence.

  "He knew what he came here for, and now it is over," Sylvester stated, waving it off.

  Karen cocked her head to the side and watched him. He didn't seem overly concerned about sending off the Were but the smile was gone. There was something odd about him just then. He looked the same, same beautiful, sleek Sylvester, but he felt old, perhaps even a bit antique. "Sly?" Karen asked tentatively, "How old are you? Sevenskins isn't a normal last name.”

  Sylvester sighed heavily. He tapped a finger on his chin, thought for a moment before answering, "You know, I just can't recall. I vaguely remember being twenty-seven when I was turned, but I can't tell you how many years I have been twenty-seven. It shall remain a mystery." He flashed her a toothy grin. "My name Sevenskins was given to me by Vikings, I don't remember my name before that. You see, I worked as a tanner back then, in our small village. But I remember Vikings coming, I remember them raiding our village. They spared me because of my trade, I had no valuables, but I hunted and I tanned the skins myself. I was very useful to them."

  Karen spat out her wine into her glass again. "Vikings?" she almost shrieked, "But, Sly, that was in, like, in the ninth century. You can't be that old."

  "Can't I?" He laughed and sipped his blood. "You'd be surprised."

  "You've seen Vikings? As in actual Vikings?"

  Sylvester nodded. "As I said, you'd be surprised at the things I have seen."

  "So, how did you end up here? When did you end up here?".

  "I came over on the Pinta," Sylvester replied as indifferently as always, as if it was no big deal.

  Karen opened her mouth to speak. Not one word came out. Rubbing her forehead, she tried again. ”The Pinta?" she asked, her voice no more than a whisper. "You mean, you sailed over with Christopher Columbus?"

  "At the time I was working in Spain as a surgeon," Sylvester explained, "I was quite good, but then, I've had a lot of time to study unlike most who only live one lifetime."

  "Why aren't you a doctor then?" Karen asked.

  "Are you kidding? Being alive in this day and age is horrible. You can't be a person who never ages and still be registered in all the places you people are. Social security numbers, bank accounts, medical records. I can't have any online presence or someone would start to ask questions. I don't age, I don't die. Some Vamps make up new identities every fifty years or so, but it is a tedious task that I can't be bothered with at all." He swished the blood around in the glass. "No. I can't do. But back then, it was easy, showing up in a new place you could be whoever you wanted to be. I became a surgeon. The expedition needed a surgeon to join the crew, and my reputation was impeccable."

  "You met Christopher Columbus?"

  He sneered into his glass. "What a nasty little man."

  "Nasty?"

  Sylvester scoffed at the memory. "He was a disgusting little shithead. Enslaving people, torturing natives, killing them for sport, giving away young girls as sex slaves to his men.
Make no mistake, his crimes against humanity were many. Far greater than what they teach you in schools." He gulped down his blood, then turned to Karen and gave her a hard stare. "Humans are strange, aren't they? They are the only animal that torture and kill their own kind. What your race have done to each other, what you are still doing to each other is beyond me. I may once have been a human, but I sure as fuck am glad I never will be again. The wars you humans lead, the starvation you allow to happen, the violence, the cruelty. Do you all just really hate yourselves for allowing this to go on?"

  "I- I-" Karen stuttered, unable to form a sentence. "Fuck, Sly, I can't be held accountable for all of humanity."

  Sylvester's eyes softened as he looked at her and he chuckled. "No you can't, you're just a girl." He leaned on the counter again and took her hand in his, giving it a squeeze.

  Again, his cold hand made her skin tingle and she shivered involuntarily. She couldn't help imagining how it would feel to touch the rest of his body. Jake obviously liked it very much. "Twenty-one," she reminded him and swallowed hard.

  Sylvester's eyes twinkled. "Here, drink up," he said and poured her another glass of wine.

  "So, uhm," Karen started, "What is Vein? The Vamps that were here earlier mentioned it."

  "It's not for you." Sylvester laughed. "It's a club. For vampires."

  "Like a vampire nightclub?"

  "Like a vampire nightclub," he agreed reluctantly, "Music, dancing, blood drinking, vampires. The usual stuff, but it is not for you. It's catered to vampires, not humans. The humans that come there... It's not for the likes of you. It gets a little rough."

  "Rough?" Karen snorted "Like fights?"

  "No." Sylvester laughed again. "Rough fun. Despite the cringe-worthy name, we enjoy ourselves there. As I said, it is definitely not for you," he repeated, "Do not get any ideas, my tasty little human."

  Karen conceded. "Fine, fine. I will forget I ever heard about it.”

  "Splendid. Now, would you like some more wine?" he asked her. Not waiting for a reply, he started refilling her glass. "Let's get some other fun thoughts into that pretty little head of yours."