Dead End Diner: Book one

by Bea Biddle

  It was because of Cef. Because she knew that the one day she had spent with him, in his apartment, in his bed, was the first time in her life she had felt both free and genuinely happy and content. And it looked as though she would never have that again. But Cef was her secret, she could never tell Dani about him.

  "Really?" Her sister raised an eyebrow at Karen, crawling towards her with a wide grin. "How do you know he had a small dick? You said you've only ever been with Colin. What, pray tell, do you have to compare to?"

  Karen blushed furiously. No, Cef was not a topic she would indulge in. Definitely not. He had betrayed her harder than Colin, and she couldn't get herself to even mention his name. "It doesn't matter," she quickly said, hiding her face.

  "Karen!" Dani gasped. "You dirty whore, you've been indulging in a rebound guy, haven't you? That was fast."

  ”No, I- I just-” No. That wasn't what Cef was. There had been more than that to him, much more. She couldn't help but smile at the memory still so fresh in her mind. She thought of his strong hands that had touched her so expertly, so knowingly, his hard body against hers that felt so wonderful, so right, his divine tongue that was able to make her whimper and whine as he took her straight to paradise. She felt herself ache at the memory, it had been so deliciously perfect. But then her memory turned sour, and she remembered his grim scowl when he told her to stay away from him. To stay away from all of them. Telling her she didn't belong there.

  "Good on you," Dani cheered her, oblivious to the train of thought Karen had ventured down. "You can jump any guy you want now. And you totally should. You should live each day as if it is your last."

  Karen snorted. "That saying is so stupid. No one lives each day as if it was their last. If it was your last day on Earth, you wouldn't waste it going to work or school or doing laundry or anything like that. You would be lying on a tropical beach somewhere eating all the chocolate in the world, wouldn't you? Or maybe rob a bank just to feel what it was like to roll around in money? Or just do something incredibly dumb, you know? Just to try it. Like, have the best, most mind-blowing, sexual experience of your entire life with absolutely no regrets." She added the last part as quietly as she could. She didn't regret it, not the actual act, that was a memory to treasure. She regretted not leaving his place as soon as it was over, regretting staying because he asked her to even though deep down, she knew she shouldn't have. She regretted not knowing that it couldn't possibly last.

  No. Enough. She had to stop feeling sorry for herself. This wasn't her. Or maybe it was the old her, the new Karen didn't like this. This was not the way to handle things at all. Her room suddenly felt hot and claustrophobic. She should open a window. She couldn't breathe in there. “Dani? Dani, I think I need some air.”

  She was answered by a loud snore. Dani had fallen asleep on her bed. Poor Dani, she wasn't used to being up all night like Karen was. She huffed out a laugh at her sister and rubbed her face. She needed air. She had to clear her head. Had to get out of there. She kicked off her slippers and pulled on her winter boots instead. She tucked Dani in under the covers, and she was off. A quick walk around the neighborhood would do no harm. The chilly air would help her, the solitude of empty dark streets could soothe her. She had to think, needed to find out where to go from there.

  She tiptoed quietly to the front door and slipped out into the night. That was better. She could breathe again. Cold air rushed into her lungs, her head didn't spin as much. So much had happened the last twenty-four hours and she hadn't processed, not properly. She needed a step back from it all.

  She walked, down streets and paths she knew so well. Reminiscing about her childhood made her smile, but then memories from her teen years came and suddenly every corner, every bench, reminded her of Colin. And all Colin did was remind her of Cef. It was so strange, Colin had been a fixture in her life for six years, she had known Cef less than a month and he was the one that dominated her thoughts. Colin had removed himself from her for months and months, so slowly she never felt him do it, didn't see it coming. She should have been paying attention. But since he had, she didn't miss his presence at all. It was difficult to explain to anyone who assumed she would be heartbroken.

  It was a nice neighborhood, but the houses were dark, no light in the windows anymore. Only streetlights lit up the night. And the occasional car driving past. She liked having the streets to herself. Sitting down on a bench with a sigh, winced at the cold wood she could feel through the thin pajama pants. She was cold. Her jacket was too thin for a midnight walk, but she hadn't been thinking about that when she left. Cef's words were ringing in her ears. She didn't belong at the diner. Of course, she didn't. She was a very much alive person, surrounded by dead people and half-beasts. She didn't belong there. He was completely right. She had purposely put herself in danger by working there, it was all her fault.

  A car drove slowly past her spot, temporarily pulling her out of her thoughts. It was massive, shiny and black, sleek and expensive. Karen couldn't help admiring it. It looked brand new, not a spot or blemish on it. Her father would be jealous. The windows were blacked out, the only thing she caught in them was her reflection as it stared back at her. She followed the car with her eyes until it turned a corner, the bright red lights lost behind a house.

  She shivered, the wind had picked up and she began rubbing her arms for warmth. It didn't help. She should make her way back. Taking a deep breath, she stood. With a final, loving gaze at the playground across the street, where her father used to take her sister and her when they were little, she stomped down the street, returning to her earlier musings.

  She should probably stop working at the diner. She couldn't stay there, Cef had said as much. She would just be in danger constantly. She was, after all, only human. But the more she thought about it, the more reluctant she became to let it go. She liked the diner, she liked working there. No, she loved working there. Being a waitress was never in her plans, never something she aspired to be. But she loved it. She loved going to work. She loved the people, the atmosphere, the damn poltergeist in the kitchen. It fit her. More than any other place she had ever worked. She practically jumped out of bed when her alarm clock rang, ready to go to work.

  As she turned a corner, bright headlights flashed down the street after her. Looking over her shoulder she saw the same black car coming towards her. Still driving slowly. The hairs on the back of her neck tingled, a chill ran down her spine. She started walking faster. She heard the car gear up, the tires heavy on the asphalt. It was so cold, why had she left the house in only a thin jacket? Wrapping her arms around herself she turned another corner, just to see if the car really was following her and not just happened to be on the same road coincidentally.

  But the car followed. And Karen felt a rush of fear. She began running. Damn, why did she walk so far? Why didn't she just stay around the house instead of walking down memory lane around the neighborhood? She had walked too far away. The car sped up, driving after her.

  “Karen," a voice called from within it. The electric window had been lowered. She didn't recognize the voice and certainly didn't want to stick around to find out where this man knew her from. She heard the car stop behind her, with the engine still running. Someone left it. A person had started running after her. "Karen?" he called again, this time from right behind her. She knew she wasn't a fast runner, but this man didn't even sound out of breath and he had caught up with her so fast. "Karen." His hand on her shoulder made her stop. Defeated she followed when he turned her around. His amused expression caught her off guard, his charming smile showed genuine surprise. "What are you doing here?"

  "Who are you?" she demanded, fear running through her still, her voice cracking. “Why are you following me?” she coughed out.

  He stepped closer to her, the smile never fading. He smelled good, like expensive cologne, the scent wrapped around her. His long, black coat fit him snugly, the dark suit underneath she could just tell was tailor-made for him. Th
e blood red tie caught her attention, it was a stark contrast to his pale, white skin and midnight black hair, expertly styled, with a wave to it that revealed the hidden curls. He chuckled. His breath was ice cold on her already freezing skin. The leather glove was smooth and perfectly fit his hand, although thick she could feel his fingers were cold when he brushed his knuckles along her jaw. Like a feline, his eyes reflected the moonlight, strikingly blue and devastatingly beautiful, framed with thick, black lashes. A perfect match for his classic, aquiline nose and strong jaw complete with a cleft in his chin. He was a beauty. But all Vamps were, and she knew he was a Vamp the moment he stepped closer to her.

  His wide grin exposed his sharp fangs, he clasped her hand and brought it to his full lips, never wavering the penetrating gaze. "I am Gaston de La Fontaine," he introduced himself, still holding her hand. His French accent was a feather tickling her skin. "I don't expect you to remember me. You have served me on more than one occasion at Dead End."

  "Oh, yeah," she murmured when recognition hit her. He had been to the diner occasionally, always very polite, a great tipper. She remembered his eyes on her, he was one of the only Vamps that could unnerve her. "I do remember you," she continued, "Female, twenty-five, AB negative." His usual order rolled off her tongue. He was not a regular, but she always took note of him, his presence forced her to take note of him. Vampires were beautiful, this man was something else entirely. Too good-looking, too charming, too overpowering. Karen always kept a firm grip on herself around Vamps, she had to, but with this one, it was a hard task and she often found herself blushing and giggling when serving him.

  “My particular preference,” Gaston drawled with a deep chuckle. She giggled and then cursing herself for doing it. “How very interesting of you to remember.” His grin widened, his eyes caressed her face as if he was still touching her. Then they narrowed on her throat and her pulse quickened. There was a slight widening of his pupils, his lips pressed together firmly. He noticed. She was used to Vamps, but the action still made her swallow hard. “Do not worry, mademoiselle,” he whispered to her, his breath fanning her cheek, “I will not take anything from you that you do not wish to give.” The voice was velvet, the accent a tender touch. He stepped away from her. “Now, petit mademoiselle,” he announced jovially, “What are you doing outside tonight of all nights? It is dangerous on the streets now, but I guess on this side of the river we are quite safe. I did not immediately believe it was you, I'm sorry if I frightened you.” The words flowed like a river, giving her no chance to answer. “And just look at you, you are shivering in this cold.”

  Without a moment to argue he had whipped his long coat from his own shoulders and draped it over hers. It was cold, no body heat had been allowed to warm it up, but it kept out the piercing wind better than her own jacket had. “I was just on my way home,” she murmured, unable to stop herself from stroking the material of his coat. It was soft and probably more expensive than anything she owned. “What are you doing here?”

  As suspected, the suit he wore fit him like a second skin. It was masterly made for him and he cut a powerful presence. He laughed melodically. “I had business to attend to not far away from here. I, myself, was just on my way home. May I offer you a lift?”

  “Business?" Karen heard herself ask and before she could stop her mouth continued, "But you're a- I mean, I didn't expect you to still-"

  Gaston cut her off with another deep chuckle that made her tingle. "We may be dead, but we still have expenses to pay for," he explained as he gestured to the sleek car behind him. "Especially, when someone, like myself, has developed a certain taste for the finer things in life. Or, in death." His grin was charming, and it disarmed her completely. "I prefer to do my business at night, for obvious reasons. Which is very lucky for me indeed, otherwise I would not have run into you."

  “Lucky,” she repeated hoarsely.

  “About that lift?” he pressed with another brilliant fanged smile. “I would love to take you anywhere you want to go. It would be my pleasure completely.”

  “Oh, no,” Karen blurted out shaking her head, “No, thank you. I'm just going to- I'm only five minutes from- No, thank you. It's very kind of you but I was just out on a little walk.”

  Gaston sighed in understanding. “Clearing your head? A need for fresh air?”

  “Something like that,” she admitted.

  He nodded, letting his tongue run over his shiny fangs. He slipped off his gloves, holding them in his fist for a moment. Then he turned on his heel, walking to his car further down the street. Unbuttoning his suit jacket, he shrugged it off his shoulders and threw it into the car with the gloves, the crisp shirt underneath so white it practically lit up in the darkness. He loosened his tie, throwing it in after the jacket, and closed the door. He rolled up his sleeves, his sharp appearance transformed into casual in an instant. As if he had shed a whole layer of himself and became something else entirely. Something warm and inviting. "Well, if you want a friendly ear tonight, I can be all yours, ma amie,” he said, undoing the top buttons on his shirt. Karen could spot the dark chest hair and her feet walked closer on their own accord. When she hesitated to answer, ready to decline, he added, “It is not as if we are strangers, we have met before, several times. Gaston,” he motioned to himself with another charming grin, “And Karen,” he said, running his finger down her cheek and along her jaw. “We are old friends, are we not?”

  He leaned back against his car, hands in his pockets and his feet crossed. The cruel wind whipped his hair around, but it only made him more appealing. His smile felt genuine, his stance non-threatening. She felt drawn to him, her mind a little hazy. His smile warmed her all the way to her toes. "I- I have to go," she stated. She should, she really, really should. But she could feel every fiber of her own body, her own mind, working against her. Shaking her head, she growled at herself. “No. No, I have to go.”

  She met his stare straight on and almost choked on her own breath. He had moved from the car, so fast she hadn't registered it, so swift she hadn't heard him. He was close, so close to her, his charming smile only inches away, his penetrating, blue eyes bore into her own. “Maybe I could suggest another destination? Somewhere much more fun, if you need a place to let loose? If you need to get your mind on other things, if only for a night? Would you let me take you there?”

  She should say no. Why wasn't she saying no? The word was on the tip of her tongue, ready to spill. But her body betrayed her. She felt a little lightheaded, a little drunk on something she couldn't name. His eyes seemed an anchor, his smile the only constant to hang on to. “Uhm...” she answered instead, her voice trailing off.

  He had taken her hand in his, she didn't know when that had happened. His hand was smooth and cold, his silky touch sent pleasant jolts up her arm. "It will be warm," he coaxed her further, "And humans, especially humans as delicious as yourself, need warmth if I remember correctly." He cocked his head to the side and turned up the charm with another brilliant fanged smile. "Vein is warm and cozy, the atmosphere fun, you would enjoy it. Il vous plaît, mademoiselle. Be my special guest tonight?"

  "Warm?” she heard herself repeat, her voice so far away she found it hard to believe it came from her.

  "Trés." He nodded, tugging her hand into the crook of his elbow as he walked her to the other side of the car and opened the door for her. "Very warm," he whispered in her ear.

  She vaguely remembered Sylvester telling her to stay away from that place. It was not a place for her, he had warned her. But the one little part of her brain that screamed at her to get away was drowned out by other, louder voices. Voices coaxing and soothing her, voices that told her she should go with him. And why shouldn't she? She wanted to go. She wanted to be in his company.

  She melted into the soft leather seat, the droning of the engine pulling her along, without a care in the world.

  ✽✽✽

  As soon as Karen stepped out of the car she could hear the music, before e
ven setting eyes on the place it dominated the atmosphere. It wasn't particularly loud, but it pulsated through the ground, pumped and drummed through the air and reverberated all the way through her body. The air was thick with moisture, fog had snuck up on them. She knew she was close to the East River, but she didn't know exactly where.

  She hadn't paid attention while they were driving, her mind was playing tricks on her. Drawn to the Vamp in the seat next to her in a way she had a hard time understanding. The city lights played on his handsome face as they drove through streets, she didn't care where were, and every time his gaze found her, she felt chills down her spine. She liked it.

  She felt her heart pump along to the slow, sensual beat with every step she took. She could feel the pull it had on her, making her walk in its direction without having to be led by Gaston. Although her arm was firmly locked with his as he led her onwards between large buildings. There were no lights anywhere to illuminate their way, only the moon above them shone brightly. Passing shipping crates, cargo containers, neatly stacked coils of rope, solid brick warehouses loomed above her. The sound of the river crashed into her conscience, but it was quickly drowned out by the perpetual beat, egging her on.

  “We are here, ma chére,” Gaston whispered in her ear, drawing a surprised gasp from her. He had taken her to the warehouse furthest away from the road, furthest away from curious eyes, should they happen to pass by. It was large and shrouded in darkness, revealing nothing. Where other warehouses looked neat and tidy, clean, this one looked abandoned. There were no signs, nothing to give away what was inside, except for that slow, delicious torment that was the beat. She could taste the music on her tongue. Gaston knocked elegantly on the run-down door and offered her a reassuring smile.