Dead End Diner: Book one

by Bea Biddle

  "Do you understand what would have happened to you if I hadn't been here? Do you?"

  Karen cowered under his angry stare, gulping audibly. She had never seen him this angry, this upset. He had always been easygoing, nonchalant, fun or bored Sylvester. This Sylvester was new to her and he was scaring her far more than Gaston had. "I- I don't know. I wasn't thinking. I still can't really. Was there something in the drink?”

  “Drink?" Sylvester snorted, his voice raising an octave or two. "No. But with so many vampires together you are bound to be affected. We rub off on each other, heightening our natural state. It affects humans." He let go of her so fast she had to fight to stay upright. "This place, this damn house of blood and lust, is not for the likes of you. It is not for the likes of any human." Karen wanted to point out that there had been other humans there, but the argument wasn't worth it. He was right. "Bloody, fucking hell, Karen. I thought you were safe. I thought you were gone. And then you show up here? At Vein of all places? What the fuck was going through your mind?" He was yelling now, pacing the disgusting roof, his shiny, fancy shoes splashing through the muck.

  Karen didn't answer, with her gaze lowered she stood there, feeling ashamed and small.

  Sylvester ran his hand through his white hair, shining silver under the moon. “I told you to stay away from here. I specifically told you this place wasn't for you. Do you not realize what this place is?”

  "I- I made a mistake," Karen managed to get out. She was on the verge of tears, shaking uncontrollably. She had been a massive idiot. Sylvester raised a perfect dark brow at her, clear blue eyes pierced her. “I can't recall- That- that place,” she stuttered, “The things I saw-”

  Sylvester gave her another snort as he paced by. "The things you saw? That was just Vein in a nutshell," he said with a shrug as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "You know what we are. You know what we do. You have been around us long enough. Were you expecting us to sit around playing Bridge and drinking tea?"

  “No,” she quickly forced out, shaking her head. “I was just-”

  ”You have got to start getting your head out of your ass and stop bumbling around in our world like some clueless tourist.” His brows knotted together, and his forehead furrowed when he looked at her, but his voice had calmed a little. "You need to start thinking." He growled loudly and pinched the bridge of his nose with his eyes forced shut, trying to control his breathing. "You cannot walk into a vampire nest and expect to just waltz out when you found out it wasn't for you. Karen, that mistake could have cost you your life, or worse.”

  "I didn't know it was a nest," she stuttered. She didn't even know what that meant but it sounded horrible. Wiping a stray tear from the corner of her eye, she swallowed hard again.

  "It's a nest, alright." Sylvester was still growling through his words. "And if you want to keep hold of your sanity, you'll stay away from it, far away. What on earth possessed you to step foot in this place?”

  Shame gnawed at her. Of course, Sylvester was right. She had been so dumb. She was a moron. "Gaston just seemed so inviting, so... nice. He was-" She stopped abruptly when the realization hit. "Fuck. He used glamour to get me here." How could she have been so stupid? How could she have been duped so easily?

  “He used glamour to get you here,” he confirmed with a heavy sigh. “You should have known. You should have picked up on that the second he unleashed on you.” He grunted to himself. “De La Fontaine,” he mused with a scowl, “He certainly has the charm, doesn't he? The accent tends to lure people in. You should count yourself very special, he hasn't even considered a familiar before you came along." He spat out the words with so much venom in his tone Karen almost felt it burn her. She felt anything but special. She shuffled her feet on the dirty roof. Sylvester huffed, buried his hands in his pockets and began to pace again, back and forth on the roof, his eyes never leaving her. "And what the fuck are you wearing?"

  Karen swallowed and met his eyes. "My mom's pajamas," she coughed out, sniffling a little in the silence that followed. "My clothes got dirty," she added lamely and then swore at herself for saying it. When Sylvester rolled his eyes at her again, she bit her lip.

  "Karen,” he started, another heavy sigh on his lips. “Our world, this supernatural world of ours, isn't safe for you." He ran his hand through his hair one more time, finally stopping his angry pacing and stood in front of her. "I'm not saying that to hurt you, Karen, it's not an insult," he added when he saw her wince at the words. "But you are a mouse. A mouse that willingly stepped into the lion's den." She nodded in response. He was right. The silence once again took over and the wind started digging into her core. The roof was cold. So, so cold. She wrapped her arms around herself tightly. "I doubt very much you'd like to become someone's familiar, even someone as irresistibly handsome as Gaston de La Fontaine."

  "He didn't bleed," she heard herself mumble

  Sylvester pinned her with a hard stare. “We have no blood of our own anymore. We need a steady supply of human blood to stay alive. Or, at least, stay undead.”

  "I thought you said vampires didn't drink blood directly from humans anymore."

  "No, I said I was not a barbarian. I don't indulge in fresh human blood anymore. However, it's still practiced, of course, some vampires prefer to drink straight from the vessel. You do know what a familiar is, right, Karen?"

  She nodded, she had a vague notion. "Somewhat.”

  ”They are willing humans. Vessels. Belonging to a specific vampire. They let us drink from them, allow us to feed on them."

  "Why the fuck would they do that?" Karen scoffed at the idea.

  Sylvester shrugged. "Many reasons. It is a symbiotic relationship, mutualism if you will. They receive pleasure in return, more pleasure than they could possibly imagine. It is a rather enjoyable exchange. They give us what we need, we give them what they want. And we are nothing if not skilled,” he added with a dangerous smirk that never quite reached his eyes. “The most common reason, is that they want to become one of us themselves. Humans are often strung along by the promise that one day they'll be turned themselves. Eternal life is a hard case to argue against." He spat on the roof, a sad chuckle escaped him. "But what a life."

  "So, they don't kill them?"

  "No, we do not kill them," Sylvester scoffed, almost offended by the question, "How can we continue to feed on them if we kill them? Well, I mean, once the blood frenzy sets in, accidents are known to happen. But mostly, no, we do not kill them."

  "You turn them?"

  "Rarely,” he answered, “We can't go around creating new vampires just willy nilly. There are rules.”

  "What happens to them then?" Karen asked, almost too afraid to know the answer.

  "They continue to be of service until they are no longer needed. Usually when the vampire finds a younger, more virile familiar. They will not remember their time as a pet. Vamps, you'll find, can hypnotize beings quite well. They go back to their normal lives."

  "That sounds sick," Karen blurted out, "Like rape victims that don't know they've been raped."

  "Humans enter into the relationship willingly. They want to donate their blood. There's always the same thing in their heads. This romantic notion. They think they can change our very nature, no matter how much we try to dissuade them. Love," he stated with a sneer, "They think there is love involved. We are dazzling, sexy and mysterious, it is our weapon. We are dangerously beautiful, and they want us, desperately. After a while of enjoying themselves, they start imagining love. They mistake the pleasure, the lust, the blood. And they start believing that we will change. Change for them. Regain our humanity, suddenly grow a heart. But we discarded our humanity long ago. We are monsters, predators. Dead. There is no love with us, there never will be. We keep our toys, our pets, until we don't need them any longer. Then they are discarded. But, it's not all bad, I assure you, they get pleasure to last them a lifetime."

  "But they won't remember it."

  "Perhaps
that is for the best," Sylvester said softly, "Considering the alternative."

  "Dying?"

  "Becoming a vampire," he stated, "I was a familiar once. I chose this, Karen. I chose to share blood with a vampire. But I have regretted it every single day since. This isn't a life, this is a prison. Vampires are prisoners, prisoners of blood, prisoners of lust, prisoners of their own bodies and damn cravings. Do you understand what I'm saying? Forget movies, forget books. We're monsters. All this 'Dazzling children of the night' bullshit? Fuck it, there is nothing romantic about us. We crave blood to survive, we crave the pleasures that come with it. It is a hellish existence."

  Karen took a step back at the outburst, finding the cold metal door at her back. She had never even imagined how Sylvester became a vampire, she hadn't given it much thought. "Have you ever had a familiar?" she asked cautiously.

  "You don't find vampires who haven't," he answered, "Blood banks are relatively new. Besides, would you rather vampires hunted the streets?"

  "Isn't that what Gaston did? Picked me from the street with his- his glamour and hypnotizing eyes?"

  Sylvester snorted at her again. "No, that is not what Vamps usually do. And I can guarantee that Alyssa will have some words for him, or, most likely, worse. He will be punished don't worry.” He sighed in a shrug, shaking his head before he continued, “De La Fontaine is a loose cannon. He is a young Vamp, doesn't always follow the rules." He stalked closer to her, bringing the cold with him. His icy smile stiff and unmoving. "Again, familiars are not humans forced into it, they enter willingly. They seek us out, not the other way around. You, however." He smirked down at her. "You are a special case. I should have warned you earlier, but I never imagined you'd be dumb enough to actually go with a stranger on the street because he offered you his hand. What is the matter with you? You wouldn't do that with a human either. I don't want to find you chopped up in a garbage bag just because you thought it was a good idea to get warm in some stranger's van."

  "Humans do not use glamour," she argued, ignoring the sharp sting his words came with.

  ”Believe me, that is your only saving grace,” he sneered. “I am furious with you. You have to start keeping your wits about you. You of all people need to start thinking. I don't care about the other humans, they don't know any better, but you do.”

  “You said it yourself, there are rules. He shouldn't have-” Clutching at straws she began to spew words in a panic. She had been so dumb. Amazed at her own stupidity, she was completely and utterly ashamed.

  ”Humans have rules,” he reasoned, “Many of them. But there are still crimes committed. Robberies. Murders. Why do you think we need people like Cef? You need Cef. Don't you know how badly Vamps want you especially?”

  Cef. She didn't want to think about Cef. Not now. Not on top of everything that had happened that night. The cold had seeped into her bones and her teeth clattered. "Why? Why do they want me?"

  Sylvester chuckled, his delicate features set in a feral grin. "Because, little Karen, we are a selfish, egotistical, narcissistic, self-absorbed bunch," he explained like a teacher talking to a slow student. "We tend to go out of our way to make trouble for Witches if we can. It is in us to be instigators and mischief-makers. You belong to Alyssa, therefore you're off limits to us. But telling a Vamp they can't have something, dangling it in front of them like a steak before a starving man? Well, you might as well ask us to try getting to you. Stealing something that belongs to a Witch? That quite excites us. You would be a nice prize, do you understand? Alyssa would be furious. And that only makes us want you more."

  "I don't belong to anyone," Karen argued, yet her voice was breaking. She wasn't sure anymore. About anything.

  "That's not the way it works with us, Karen." Sylvester laughed loudly, making Karen press her back against the cold door with a surprised huff. "You're Alyssa's human. We all know it. That is the way it is."

  "But I don't want to be," Karen exclaimed lamely, knowing she was fighting a losing battle. "What is the matter with you? What is the matter with all of you? You are acting like this is all a game. Life and death. Does it mean nothing to you?"

  Sylvester shrugged. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Not anymore. Not when you have been dead for as long as some of us have. Games are all we have left. We are nothing but sex and blood, we will never be anything else. Do you understand?”

  Karen sobbed at the admission, tearing her gaze from him, focusing instead on his shiny shoes on the grimy roof. She had felt safe at the diner, safe in her own world. Even with everything happening around her, she had felt secure in the fact that she knew monsters, she knew about vampires and werewolves. Nightmares had come out of the shadows, came to life. Ghouls, Ghosts, she knew about them all. The scariest things she could possibly imagine, conjure up in her head. And none of them were scary anymore. Because she knew them. And there were rules. And there was Cef. And nothing could harm her in that world.

  But not anymore. Everything had changed in the course of one single night. Her own stupidity had revealed it. She was no safer in that world than she was in the human one. She never had been. And it hurt her. She felt betrayed and it was her own damn fault. "You're all sick. Your whole damn secret community is sick,” she whispered.

  "Why do you think it is kept a secret?" he asked her with another snort. He spun on his heel, sauntering to the edge of the roof. His shoulders sagged, his head rolled back and he stretched lazily as he looked out over the foggy river. "We've forgotten how to be human, Karen. We may look like it, but we are not like you. We never will be. We play by different rules."

  She had her gaze fixed on his lean back, the black silk shirt rustled in the wind as he stood stoically with his arms crossed over his chest. The silence was unbearable. She wanted to break it but her tongue had lodged itself to the roof of her mouth.

  ”Now,” he began, his voice piercing the night, “What the bloody hell do you think you are doing here when there is a Demon problem downtown?”

  Karen found her voice, answering him before she even knew it. “Trust me, I don't want to be here anymore than-”

  ”What do you think Cef is going to say when he hears you're back in town? How do you think he'll react to you being at Vein? I'm not going to be very popular handing over those news."

  Karen hesitated. “You don't have to tell him,” she whispered. The mention of Cef's name again made her shudder. She already felt humiliated and regretted ever stepping foot outside her parents' house that night, regretting ever having laid eyes on Gaston de La Fontaine, she couldn't bear the thought of Cef knowing how ridiculously stupid she had been.

  “Of course, I have to tell him,” Sylvester exasperated, shaking his head at her.

  “He doesn't care,” she pressed out, feeling the lump in her throat grow, “He- We've- Everything was a lie. He doesn't-”

  “Stop,” Sylvester barked, whipping his head around, glaring at her over his shoulder. “Think really hard, and then tell me he wasn't just trying to protect you. Tell me that everything he told you was true. Tell me it wasn't his own stupid Demon way of keeping you safe, keeping you out of trouble.” He finally turned on his heel, staring directly at her. “An effort clearly in vain seeing as you are just too stupid to stay put.”

  "Why does he keep telling you all these things!" Karen yelled in frustration. But her frustration was aimed at herself. Looking back, it was hard to believe Sylvester could be right. Cef had been so harsh, so mean. He had torn her heart out with only a few well-placed words. And there she was, all his efforts to get her out of harm's way undone by her own ignorance. "It was the damn glamour," she defended herself, "I would never have gone with him if-" She ended that sentence in a growl. There was no point. It was her own damn fault, she shouldn't have let him use it on her. She was to blame. Nodding at Sylvester, she shuffled her feet. Crestfallen, feeling small and alone, she wrapped her arms around herself again, rubbing to try and keep the chill at bay. It was no use, she was wearing
only a thin shirt and the air was so, so cold. Something wet landed on her nose. She turned her face upwards. Tiny snowflakes fell from the sky. No wonder she could no longer feel her fingers and was shivering like crazy. "I am sorry, Sylvester. About everything that happened tonight. Truly sorry."

  "Never trust a Vamp, Karen," Sylvester said with a defeated sigh, "That's all I'm asking."

  "Even you?"

  "Even me," he answered with a dangerous grin that Karen normally would have thought of as charming. "But, if you ever do decide to become a familiar, I'd appreciate it if you came to me first, and not that ravishing de La Fontaine. Although truth be told, I know firsthand how delicious he can be."

  "I hope you're joking," Karen muttered, "Don't joke right now, please."

  "You scared me tonight,” he said, his voice softer than it had been since he dragged her up there, yet she could still sense the anger. “I'd rather not find friends of mine in the clutches of Vamps like me."

  ”Friend?” she whispered, afraid to meet his gaze. “Are you even able to feel that way? You said there was nothing but blood and sex to you guys.”

  He left the question hanging in the air. For a brief moment she thought she saw an emotion she didn't recognize across his face, a soft one, but then it was gone. His face turned hard, his jaw tensed. "I was trying to frighten you," he stated, "I do hope it worked." Determined he walked to her, making her press her back against the door harder. Out of his pocket, he pulled the Skarram and handed it to her. "Take this back. Just don't put yourself in a situation where you need to use it."

  She hesitated before taking it, but once she had it in her hands again, she felt a little safer. She immediately felt stupid for even thinking it. This was Sylvester, this was her boss. She could trust him, surely. Looking up at him, into his ice-cold eyes, she couldn't read him at all. He was a mask with no expression. He wasn't like the others, he wasn't like the ones below, desperate to piss off a Witch, was he? Don't trust a Vamp, his words rang in her head, Even me. "I just want to leave here now," Karen whispered.