Blood & Juniper

Accounts of Ashlen last day of September 2017.

The crowd moves like a colony of ants gathered over a crack in the sidewalk. A disorienting amount of people going about their business. A surround sound drumming that taunts from every direction.

I shouldn't have wandered away from Sam so quickly and he's taking his sweet time getting over here. I focus on him. He's like the eye of a hurricane, a calm in the storm. In this sea of people he's something solid to hold on to.

He's smirking, I bet what I said really did go to his head, so c.o.c.ky.

'Could you go any slower, Sam?' impatience gets the better of me, "You're taking forever!"

"I'm trying to keep a low profile," He responds calmly reaching for the door to the bar.

"Oh," was I moving too quickly? I should be more self aware, "Really? It didn't feel that fast to me."

He bobs his head, he doesn't seem too concerned about it. The breeze from the bar door opening hits me with a barrage of new smells. A new set of drums ranging from sleepy to quickstep.

If Sam senses my struggle he might feel obligated to leave with me and I already invited myself. I'm not going to take him away from his plans.

I attempt to carry on naturally, "Wow! That's painfully slow, how did I ever walk that slow before!"

I scan the bar before stepping through. There are a lot of people packed away in such a close space, will this be a problem? I just need to remain calm, Sam seems relaxed enough. That's rare for the worry wart that is Sam. If he's not worried, I'm not worried.

The sound of my tennis shoes connecting with polished hardwood is satisfying. The bar is sleek and fancy looking. I might even say, classy.

An unexplained hew of pink lingers around the cherrywood bar. The tables shine with a coat of gloss glimmering from the lowlights. Comfy looking barstools with rich green upholstery followed the long counter that wrapped around the length of the side wall. There were a few bartenders working fast to appease the horde of enthusiastic drinker. The area was not only long but tall. Even having an impressive indoor balcony upstairs. Are those bas.e.m.e.nt stairs, too?

I couldn't believe a place like this existed right under my nose and I never had a clue about it until now. This is pretty awesome. No wonder he likes to come here, "Hmm, not bad, Sam. I was expecting a dive, this place is kind of cute."

"I suppose, I occasionally have good taste," he replies.

I know Sam mentioned you could drink from someone out in the open if you're really sly about it. His ability made it too easy, I'm sure. There were so many people here, though! How could *I* possibly get away with that without someone noticing? I was getting anxious, finding a meal could prove challenging in more than one way.

I mindlessly tag along as Sam maneuvers the space. I'm lost thinking about how it is done, how to bite without getting caught.

A young group of barely of legal drinkers catch my attention, they are swarmed around one of the larger tables near the center of the thin pub. The blood pumping through their blotchy cheeks could be felt from across the room. I can smell them, each unique and the majority, particularly enticing.

There are some with glazed eyes from drinking too ambitiously. I observe one gulp down the last of his shot. It's hypnotizing to watch his throat move the liquid down while his veins did the same thing just under his skin, flowing in unison. I'm so drawn to the liveliness of a human body, how it never stopped working for a second, things I took for granted or couldn't really appreciate before.

I watch his c.h.e.s.t expand with a breath and I'm already daydreaming about running my palms over his warm skin. The pulse on his neck inviting me like a hospitable host. 'Imagine the warmth…'

I look at something else, I'm getting annoyingly invested. 'Come on, get a grip!' I stare at the wall of dazzling bottles lit like neon lights lining the shelves behind the serving bar. The bottles were in a lovely arrangement by size and color. It's pleasing to the eye and should have been an adequate distraction but my mind was itching to wander back to the barely legals at the big table.

Could I manage to get one of them alone? I look around for secretive corners and spots in the building. There are a few secluded areas, I guess I could always drag someone into a bathroom stall. I wrinkle my nose. 'Eew, how trashy.'

Sam's voice scatters my thoughts and scheming, I'm somewhat glad for that, "Involving me in your quarrel isn't going to help, Coop."

Is he talking to me? I glance at him confused, he's not. His head is turned to someone sitting on a nearby barstool as he props himself against the counter. I focus on the mystery person in the closest seat.

I immediately notice his curly hair. A dark brown with a reddish tint like a bottle of maple syrup. It probably would have been out of control like a Tarzan mane if he didn't have it kept so neat and short on the sides, the way he had it was quite stylish. It looked healthy and likely grew fast. Some of his springy curls were reaching down past one of his eyebrows. I took my eyes off his hair and realized this guy was big, like snap anyone in the bar in two pieces, hulking!

He's definitely over six feet tall, he may be taller than me just sitting down. The sleeves of his T-shirt are tight over his biceps and the fabric stretched taut across his c.h.e.s.t. 'Why does he seem so familiar?' It doesn't take long to pin down where he's from. His very distinct accent gives him away.

"Quarrel? I'd neva' argue wiff Janet, she's always right," he grins deviously at the woman behind the bar as she scowls at him. I feel my face melt into a matching frown.

"Ashlen this is Cooper," Sam introduces me. I don't need it, I have a bone to pick with this guy.

My tone is harsh through my teeth, "Yes. Cooper. We've definitely crossed paths."

I'm probably an idiot for being so hostile with a guy that could crush me with one fist. I grind my teeth together, I can't help but feel a bit peeved running into the other accomplice of my unfortunate demise. Maybe I'll feel better if I give him a punch square to his jaw, or ram a fist into his gut. Imaging it makes me feel a little better.

Cooper looks over at me and tilts his head slightly. I can tell he knows who I am but doesn't act alarmed, he doesn't even wipe that dumb grin off his face. He's got some nerve! It makes my blood boil even more.

"Aye lil' fireball! It's good to see ya. Yer lookin well," he responds nonchalantly, just like the last time I encountered him. Does anything rattle this guy, I think something in his head isn't screwed on right!

'Good to see ya? Yep, I'm alive no thanks to you jackass!' I spot Sam in my peripheral, noticing his quiet apprehension. 'Breathe, don't lose your cool.' I had already caused him enough trouble by unintentionally getting into a crazy fight earlier. I *really* didn't mean to fight, but once the insane lady tackled me to the ground something scary kicked in, something savage.

I had to defend myself.

No, I can't be like that in this public place. I shouldn't purposely start a fight, no matter how much I want to. My mother always told me I was like a runaway train if people tossed too many coals into my fire. I'd even mow down the innocent bystanders. Now it's even worse, I'm more easily upset and now little ol' me can do some serious damage. I must keep myself in check, I won't let my emotions control me!

I try to use tact but I can't help raising my voice or hold back the nasty toxicity, "Oh! Oh really! After what happened last week that's how you're going to address me?"

He's unable to hide the amus.e.m.e.nt from my reaction but it doesn't seem like he's trying to provoke me. He must see me as a kitten taking a harmless swipe. I think it makes me angrier that he's reacting this way.

"Ya, we din't meet on tha best o' circ.u.mstances, did we? Fresh start?"

Ha! He's trying to make peace? Well I'm not done being pissed off at him. I cross my arms not accepting it, silently fuming, suppressing my volatile temper I feel bubbling under the collar.

The woman from behind the counter suddenly scolds him, "Cooper! What did you do to this girl?"

Do they know each other? Part of my agitation for Cooper is swatted away by the bartender's outburst. Why is she sticking up for me? She's got a heartbeat, she's alive. Is she in the 'know' on vampire activities or is she just guessing what the issue is? Was ticking people off a regular thing for this guy?

"It was a misunderstandin', Janet."

She stares at him like he's simply unbelievable, I agree with her reaction. She continues to reprimand him, "You just don't have a care in the world, do you?"

He tries to defuse her while shaking his head, "It's not what you think…"

She doesn't have a clue about the undead right under her nose, does she?

She doesn't respond, instead turning to me, "Honey, I know it's no consolation but I'll get you whatever you want no charge."

Huh? She's offering me a drink for my troubles? What did she think happened? "Uhh, I'm alright. I couldn't, but thank you." Really, I don't even think a drink would have the same effect, I have to get second-hand drunk now.

"Don't worry, Cooper is paying for it, it's the least he can do."

Damn, can she even do that?

"Harassin' then robbin' me? I hope ya don't treat all yer customers like this, Jan," the complaint is completely phony, he still doesn't seem to be taking the situation very seriously.

"Shut it! You're paying!"

Her voice and expression are sweet as candy when she turns back to me, like flipping a switch, it's a bit frightening if I'm honest, "So what will it be, sweetheart?"

I'm a little taken aback, I put my hands up in refusal, hopefully not offending her seeing how she has a vicious bite and all, "Thank you, really. But I don't think I'll be drinking tonight."

"Well, if you change your mind, give me a shout," she glances to the side craning her neck to look at something down the bar, "Excuse me, I've got to take care of that."

She thrusts a violent finger at Cooper before walking away, "*You* make this right."

He puts his hands up like her finger is a loaded gun.

There's a strained silence when she leaves us. She kind of interrupted my impulsive fury. It's probably for the best.

"Look," A baritone voice comes from my side. I narrow my eyes and glare at Cooper indirectly, "I hope ya kno' it wasn't personal. Sam and I aren't really into tha fear tactics, but Derek," He hesitates thoughtfully, his facial expression is finally more appropriate, so I keep listening, "Well, you're probably aware o' wha' blood can do ta one at this point."

"Save it. You probably enjoyed the show, admit it."

"Absolutelay not, that's no way ta treat a laday! But there's only so much ya can do when tha bloke's got wretched table manna's," his counter isn't defensive but it seems honest. If he's a liar, he's a good one.

I reflect on what he said, 'What blood can do to one.'

Could he really put all the blame for Derek's bad behavior on blood? I recall how out of my mind it had made me at times. Crazy, hostile, not myself. Even now, my anger was more intense than it should be.

I'm not done being skeptical, he denies wanting to hurt or scare me? I test him, "Are you saying you wouldn't have attacked me?"

"Well," he gives a light laugh, "Not attacked, per say, but I likelay would've snacked on ya. Now that ya are what ya are, wouldn't you 'ave done tha same? You were by yerself, that's an opportunity too good ta pass up."

I make a face, he got me. Can I really say I wouldn't have? Damn him.

"Ya wouldn't kno' it but Sam n' miself were tryin' to dissuade 'im," he looks at me with convincing genuineness, more than I thought possible from someone who couldn't stop grinning a moment ago, "I'm sorry it had ta be you... Ashlen."

I'm annoyed, but my irritation was becoming less with him and more about the situation itself. I finally understand, descent leads to bloodshed. I mean, it didn't take much to provoke a vampire to violence and I experienced that first hand less than an hour ago. I'm in a different world now.

There is no control, no going back, and no justice. The one most at fault is dead, Sam and Cooper probably couldn't do anything about it to begin with. Frustrating.

'Acceptance' June's words replay. There's no turning back.

"But look at ya, Lil' Fireball, alive n' kickin'! Yer a tough one," Cooper obviously couldn't keep the smile away for too long.

I stare at him, he definitely wasn't as apologetic as Sam, but he didn't appear to have ill wishes for me. In one way he reminds me of Juniper, they both seem to believe there's no point in fighting against nature, against the way things are. Is that the way it is then? Do I just accept everything, no matter how wrong it is. Am I just fooling myself to think I can remain good being the way I am now, will I eventually snap? Is my own bloodthirsty addiction more powerful than my will?

I'm bothered again and Cooper's presence isn't helping. I need to separate myself from this. I need a drink.

I end the conversation, "Fine, whatever."

I turn to Sam, I don't want to take him from his plans but I definitely need some time to compose myself, "I'm going to have a look around, come and find me in a bit?"

"Do you want me to show you around?"

"In a little while, where's the ladies room?"

He looks less tense and more quizzical, probably relieved I didn't start another fight. But oh, how tempting it was.

"Back corner," he gestures away from us, "There's also one upstairs and one down stairs."

"Thank," I make a beeline for restroom, I need to escape. My emotions, my hunger, the future. I'm troubled that I may be destined to be no better than my attacker.

I slip inside the small room, it doesn't matter where I seem to go, I can hear blood through the thin walls. Not that it matters, being alone is apparently too much to ask, someone's in one of the stalls.

I almost break the handle off the sink when I twist the water on, I put all my focus on the sound of water bursting from the spout and running down the drain.

'What blood can do to one…','Acceptance' the words of Cooper and June stewing. I'll never really be in control, will I?

The sound of running water should be calming, but it reminds me of another exciting liquid source. I grimace in dismay.

Steam rises from the sink fogging up the bottom of the rectangular mirror. I want to punch the reflective glass. I can't even look myself in the face to deliberate. Physically can't or I may lose to the mirror monster again. I'm trapped, a prisoner to my l.u.s.t and my anger.

I huff a breath out my nose shoving my hands under the hot water.

No good, I just want to drown myself in blood. I'm heavily considering kicking in the occupied stall.

I realize I hadn't had a need for a bathroom stall in days. Hadn't needed a toilet. Looks like I'm trading all my basic needs for one addiction. Might actually be a sweet deal if the addiction didn't involve assault and possible murder.

A toilet flushes and a hand clumsily fiddles with the lock of the only closed off stall. A blonde girl stumbles out, barely catching herself when she trips on nothing.

She looks too young to be in this bar, like someone who just graduated high school, her lopsided pigtails don't help. The make-up on her droopy eyes is smudged and her zip-up is falling off one shoulder, signs of how obviously drunk she was.

I watch her meander to the vacant sink next to mine through the mirror. Her feet constantly get in the way of one another, it's like watching a baby taking their first steps, amazing she's managing to stay upright at all.

She nearly plows into me as she falls into the sink, her head dips forward inches from smashing into the mirror. Wow, she is hammered.

"Wh-where's the stuupidd… Shink?"

I grip the edge of the sink. This would be pretty funny to watch, if I weren't struggling not to take advantage of her right now. Her blood alcohol content is way too high. If was drugged off the hobos blood before, I'll definitely get drunk off of her's. Bloodl.u.s.t and highly intoxicated? That can't be a good combination.

"Hey! There youu are… Thought youu… Thoughttt.. could ge-it a wa-away?" she mutters into the sink as her fingers fumble with the simple knob.

Her heavy head suddenly turns my way having no sense of volume control, "Boys! Amiright? They... suck, whoo needs em!"

"Boys," I repeat, but not really paying attention to what she's trying to imply as stare at her pink skin, her heart racing from the abundance of alcohol. 'Just push her against the wall and have a quick drink.'

I feel my fangs extend as I lean into her, I can smell the liquor mixed with her blood. Will her blood still taste sweet or will it be bitter like a shot of vodka?

"Yeeeah, I'm never talking tooo tha dr-douchebwag again," she slurs as she entirety misses patches of suds while rinsing her hands.

She unevenly tears a paper towel from the dispenser, sloppily dabbing up the bubbles and water from her tips and wrists.

She tosses the paper missing the garbage completely before I grab her wrist.

"Ohha?"

I look into her sleepy eyes with a burning need, "You're right, boys are so overrated."

"Yeahhh, I knoow right?"

I guide her tilting frame over to the wall near the exit, brushing her messy pigtail away from her neck as I get ready to bite into it.

She's too drunk, I'm too unstable. I need to be more level headed before I drink. This is a bad idea. What if I don't stop, what if drunkenness makes me careless?

But I don't stop. I continue lowering to her slender neck. Her warm skin tickles my face with delight. My lips part and I close my eyes as her heartbeat both fuels and soothes.

The exit opens and I hiss at the opening having the urge to tackle the one interrupting. 'Whoa, get a hold of yourself! Do not cause more problems for Sam!' I lock up instead, staring like a deer in the headlights as I gawk at the girl entering the bathroom.

A stubby girl immediately hones in on us, my eyes are wide, guilty as can be, "Julianna! What the hell!"

Oh no! I've been caught? What do I do now? The tubby one pulls the girl in pigtails off of me, I didn't notice she all of her weight was on me, she had lost her balance. I fight the instinct to snap my jaws or growl at the short girl for taking my meal away.

"I'm so sorry, she's had way too much to drink," the other girl apologizes for her.

Phew, crisis averted, she doesn't suspect me of anything.

I clear my throat and respond through tight lips, "Not a big deal, it happens."

I remain stiff as she drags her friend from the room. I listen to the chubby one nag the other for wandering off by herself.

The door closes behind them and I let myself fall against the wall. I press my hands into my face, burned out all ready.

It just can't be simple, can it? One wrong move is the difference between life and death. One witness, one mistake. Why!

Why does this have to be so complicated?