Chapter 1
New York City
December 18
12: 45 am
I was numb to the cold. It was below freezing and I felt absolutely normal, but then again I couldn't remember the last time I hadn't been cold. I walked with my head hunched over, and my hands jammed in the pockets of my black ankle length leather jacket. I liked black- it was a good color. It was a strong and sturdy color. Snow fell around me.
I was two blocks from my apartment. If you could call it that. It was run down, and falling apart but I didn’t mind. Everyone kept to themselves. There is almost nothing in my apartment. An old mattress that I don’t bother to dress. The only other thing I have is a small refrigerator. It stores only blood.
I live on the top floor. It is only me and one other. He is a human, and he doesn't seem to care that he literally handed his life to my kind the minute he took a room here. I don't know if he has a death wish or what, but he's definitely not happy. A little suicidal, he keeps to himself and hardly ever goes outside. Sometimes when I'm home I can hear him crying, I feel his pain, and I know exactly what he feels.
So far the other 'tenants' had only ignored him, wondering why on earth a human would come here and want to live among the likes of us. The landlord only has one condition- don’t bother him. Every once in a while he’ll check to make there aren’t any freeloaders. Once a year he places an ad with a way to get in touch with him for an apartment, but once most humans read the address they put the phone away. He doesn’t what we are.
I walked into the run down coffee shop. The floor was yellow linoleum, there was a breakfast bar to the right, and at least a dozen dirty beat up tables with broken and old chairs. The bar had according height stools with a red plastic covering on them that had begun to peel and crack. The place was old and dirty, but it some how managed to stay open. Most of the business was brought in from vampires living down a few blocks. I sat down in the chair second from the door and stared down at the urine colored counter top with flecks of mirror in them. A few minutes went by before the waitress came over to me.
"Can I get ya' somethin'?" she barely grunted.
"Coffee- black." I said without a glance to her.
She walked away smacking her gum and tapping her fake nails as she made a new pot of coffee. She sighed a heavy sigh, and looked like she was ready to pass out. She was… old, and her fashion choices only aged her more. Her hair had been fried countless times with red, or at least it once had been red, it was now orange. There was a clump of white in the front of her head that stuck out from under her paper hat.
Her make-up was horrible. Her eyelashes looked like she had slathered on her mascara so they would reach her forehead. Her eye brows were penciled with a hideous brown color, and were arched even higher then her eyelashes. The yellow uniform she was wearing was spotted with grease and coffee stains. Ketchup was splattered on her as well. She looked like something straight out of a movie. A mix between Mimi from Drew Carry and a clown. A very ugly clown.
I looked up as she brought the coffee to me. She practically threw it at me, but I just smiled sweetly. I took a quick look at her nametag it spelled 'Mary' in neat black block letters. I took a long sip of my coffee then bent back over the counter, staring into the coffee. My ear length jet-black hair dripped tiny beads of water from the snow that had soaked me thoroughly. I started counting the seconds between each drop.
I looked up and saw that 15 minutes had passed. I downed the rest of the cold coffee, and grabbed my cigarette and lighter. I stuck the cigarette in mouth and was about to light up when the bells on the door jingled. I looked up into the eyes of the stranger. He smiled at me like he had known me for ages.
"Cassidy," he spoke softly, "I knew it was you. I could sense you." His voice was soft and smooth. It was like the sweetest blood in the world. I knew that voice. His black eyes stared into mine.
I light the cigarette and took a quick puff before I said something to him. "I think you have got me confused with someone else, pal. My name's not Cassidy." I said harshly
He didn't look the least bit offended my comments toward him. He wasn't miffed by my cold words, and unfeeling ways. He just stood there silently. Something about is calm cool collectiveness really annoyed me. I took another puff on my cigarette, and pushed past him. I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my skull. I rolled my eyes, and started to walk. I never looked back. Not even when I knew he was following me. I could feel his eyes on my back. It was one of the worst feelings I've ever experienced. I didn't know why this guy was following me. I didn't know what he wanted or how he knew my name. But that was the weird thing: everybody knew my name- just not the one he used. I kept on smoking and walking, and then he was gone. I couldn't feel him any more. Everything I could sense about him was gone. Like he had vanished. I shrugged it off, figuring he had given up.
I walked the remaining block and a half to my apartment building. There was graffiti on the walls, and prostitution took place on the corner. Somehow, if these things hadn't taken place, New York City would not feel the same. It would be like living without a pluse- oh wait I already do that! I guess if a few of these things weren't there it wouldn't this place so unbearable. It is so unlike my homeland. I miss it, I miss everything. My family, my house, and my farm; but there is nothing I can do to go back in time to change what happened.
So I go day by day waiting for the day to end and for the night to fall so I can finally feel like I'm alive again. I pulled open the door to my building and walked the few feet to the old wooden stairs. Everything was dusty, there were cobwebs on everything, and there was no elevator. Not that I mind, but sometimes I push The Curfew.
I don't know why, but it makes me feel when I climb the stairs as a human would. I don't know what it makes me feel. But whatever the feeling is it's a good one. Can vampires have 'good' feelings? I wondered suddenly. Before turning to the third flight of steps I flicked my cigarette butt down the stairs. I watched it fall, quietly. The last of the orange glow faded and I continued on my way to the eighth floor.
I reached my floor, but something was different. Something was out of place. I stayed still before turning the corner. The human hadn't killed himself. All the rats were sleeping. Then I knew what it was. I knew what was different- what was out of place.
The man that had been following me was on my floor, in front of my apartment door. I could smell him. I could sense him. He was there, and I knew there was nothing I could do about it. I pushed my fears aside, knowing that if I needed to I could kick this guy's ass, and turned the corner. And sure enough there he was, leaning against my door. His arms were folded over his chest, and his left hand he held a cigarette. He was staring at the floor, blankly. He didn't notice I was there.
I sighed loudly, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
He sat upright quickly, and got off my door. He smiled mysteriously at me, and took one last drag on his cigarette before smothering it in the palm of his hand. He flicked it to the floor, and locked his beautiful black eyes in mine again.
"Waiting for you, Cassidy." He said as if I hadn't just offended him.
"Yeah, well I guess you can go now. I'm here, and I'm telling you to leave." I walked up to him, and he moved as I unlocked my door. I stepped through, and he followed me. This guy was really starting to get on my nerves. But for some reason I didn't tell him to get out, and I didn't kick his ass. Something wouldn't let me do that.
I took off my leather jacket, and revealed my ripped jeans and black tank top. With the combination of the low ride jeans; and the tank top that rose up a little it showed off my perfectly toned stomach and pierced belly button. It was just a simple sterling silver ring. No designs, or beads, or tassels. Just the ring. I threw the jacket on the floor, and turned around to face him. He had at least closed the door. He was now looking around my apartment with an amused look on his face. Like he was impressed with what I called a home.
"So are you going to tell me who the hell you are?" I demanded
"Oh, come on- you really need me to tell who I am? You know who I am, Cassidy."
I stayed quiet. I shrugged my shoulders, and looked at him as if to say he'd better tell me. And he did, at least not right away. He gave me clues, and let me figure it out for myself.
"Let me refresh your memory. We met in 1618, in France; and we fell madly in love but your father forbade you from seeing me. Still every night you snuck out to be with me. Then when the New Year came; you and I were discovered kissing on a balcony by your mother. Your father came a minute later when he heard a scream. When he saw us he went absolutely mad. Yelling, and screaming- he grabbed you by the hair and began hitting you. I stopped him, that was the first time I reveled I was a vampire.- Please, Cassidy try and remember. You must remember-"
I walked over to him and put my hands over his face. I knew who he was, but I couldn't believe it. He had died in 1919, in my arms. 85 years seemed like an eternity without him. I was only seventeen when we met, and when he turned me. We had been together three hundred years when he died. I then realized that I was crying. Sobbing really, and that he was me holding tightly. So close I felt like I could melt into him.
I calmed myself. I took a few deep breaths before I finally said something. His strong hands were supporting me, giving me strength. He was everything I needed. The only thing I wanted.
I whispered, "I remember you, Jeremiah."
