Blood on Fire

Chapter9

A woman stepped in alone. She wasn’t tall, probably only an inch shorter than me. She wore dark jeans, a fitted maroon sweater, and black ankle boots. Her hair was cut in a sharp bob that brushed her shoulders, and she moved with a grace that drew my eyes. She paused, scanned the bar, and then headed straight for an empty stool several seats away from me.

Dennis greeted her with a nod, as if they were already familiar. She returned with a polite smile but said nothing. She ordered quietly, something light, maybe a soda.

My pulse quickened. This had to be the friend Dennis mentioned.

I wiped my palm on my leg and picked up my glass, pretending to sip. I listened. Dennis leaned in to get her order, but she spoke so softly I couldn’t catch a word. When he stepped back to prepare her drink, I slid off my stool and walked toward the restroom corridor, passing right behind her chair.

As I moved, I glanced sideways. She had pale, smooth skin and dark eyes that seemed to shine under the bar lights. Something about those eyes made my chest tighten. They looked… old, in a way. Older than the rest of her face.

Was she human? Vampire? Something else entirely? I needed to know. I continued down the hall past the restrooms and stopped at the service door, pretending to check my phone. Then I doubled back and returned to the bar, slipping into the stool beside hers. I kept my face neutral and looked straight ahead.

Dennis placed her drink on a napkin. Ginger ale with a lime wedge. She thanked him in a soft voice. I waited until Dennis stepped away again, then spoke.

“Ginger ale’s a good choice.”

She turned slowly to face me. Her eyes studied mine with calm curiosity. “I like the taste,” she said. Her voice was gentle, almost musical. For a moment, we just looked at each other. Up close, she was even more striking, with clear skin, high cheekbones, and perfect lips. A slight, knowing smile curved at the corners of her mouth, as if she could see everything spinning inside my head. I didn't ask her name, all I wanted to know was her and her tall friend.

I sipped my drink. “Dennis told me your friend helped me last night.”

She raised a brow. “My friend?”

“Tall woman. Very strong.”

Understanding flickered in her eyes. She looked back at her drink. “Yes. She’s… protective.”

“Is she around?” I tried to keep my voice casual.

She shook her head. “Not tonight.”

I felt a mix of relief and disappointment. “I owe her a thank‑you.”

She took a small sip of her ginger ale. “She doesn’t expect thanks.” Then she looked at me again, her gaze sharper. “Do you often pass out in bars?”

“First time,” I said flatly.

“I see.” Her smile returned, gentle but unreadable.

I couldn’t decide whether to push harder or back off. There was a mystery here, but she felt like a minefield, one wrong step and the ground could blow open.

“You said she’s protective,” I started, choosing my words. “Protective of who?”

“People who need help,” she answered simply.

I shifted on my stool. “She left without giving the bartender her name, yet she gave him clear instructions about my phone. It’s like she already knew me.”

She traced the rim of her glass with a fingertip. “Sometimes names aren’t important.”

“I disagree.” I held her eyes. “Names matter.”

We stared at each other. The air grew thick, as if the whole bar was listening.

At last, she leaned closer, speaking so low only I could hear. “Selene, the safest thing you can do is let last night stay in the past. Do not cross that line. It’s dangerous for someone like you.”

Cold tingling crept down my spine. She knew my name.

“How do you—” I began, but she was already setting a folded napkin on the counter.

“Take care, Selene,” she said.

Then she slid off her stool and walked calmly out the door, vanishing into the night like smoke.

I sat frozen, heart pounding. My nose caught a faint scent, almost like roses but sharper, a hint I now recognized as a vampire. She looked human, but every instinct screamed not human. I should never have let her leave. She could lead me to others.

I tossed some cash on the counter, thanked Dennis, and rushed outside. He called after me, but my heart pounded too loudly to hear. The street was quiet, night air cool on my cheeks. I searched the sidewalks, the parked cars, the alley, but she was gone.

My phone buzzed. I answered without looking.

“Selene! Where are you?” Stephen asked. “I’m at your door. I brought food.”

Of course. His timing was never great.

“I’m buying materials for tomorrow’s project,” I lied, trying to steady my breathing.

“I thought you were home. I heard something inside.” His puzzled tone made my pulse jump. No! Please, not him.

“Stephen, listen,” I said, breaking into a run. "Go back to your place. Right now.”

“What? You’re scaring me. Fine, stairs again, elevator’s still down,” he joked, trying to stay calm.

“Hurry, Stephen. Lock your door. Don’t let anyone in unless it’s me,” I said, breathless.

“Okay, okay. But you owe me an explanation,” he replied, half‑annoyed, half‑worried.

I turned a corner onto a dim side street. Only one flickering lamp lit the far end. My hand slid into my jacket and gripped the wooden stake‑knife.

“Selene?” Stephen’s voice came through the phone.

“I’ll call you back,” I whispered. I ended the call, shoved the phone and my glasses into my pocket, then moved deeper into the shadows.

I saw her under the streetlight, feeding on a man’s neck. Her face was clear now, it was the same woman from the bar earlier.

I gripped my knife tightly and started walking toward her, ready to fight. But then I caught a familiar scent in the air.

That same scent… sweet roses. The same one I remembered from the person who kissed me before I passed out that night.

My heart raced. I took one more step.

But before I could turn or react, something sharp jabbed into my neck.

An injection.

A cold feeling rushed through my body.

Then, everything went dark.