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                                     Installment One Of
                                -=+ New Moon Rising +=-

                        ~Chapter 1~
Shalimar Devereux groaned and rolled over as her alarm clock began shrieking -- again, for the third time that morning.  She pulled a pillow over her face and hugged it there to try and drown out the incessant wailing, but to no avail.  With a frustrated sigh, she rolled back over, intent on beating the contraption into silence, but cursed herself when she saw the time.
"Thanks for coming in and making sure I'm up, Mom," Shalimar grumbled as she threw off the ink-black comforter and deep red sheets.  "Late on the first day of school.  What an impression to make on the teachers."  She shuffled across the near-black carpet to her closet, which contained mostly black clothing.  Her style was classic goth-vampyric, and her looks showed for it: At seventeen, Shalimar had a naturally fair complexion (which was also aided by lack of direct sunlight) and waist-length black hair that never tangled.  Her eyes were a light grey-blue, and were outlined with naturally dark eyelashes.  She had no need for mascara or eyeliner, which she was all the more grateful for.  The only makeup Shalimar wore was a deep, bloodred lip-gloss that seemed to lighten her flawless complexion even more.
After grabbing a typical outfit--long, fitted black skirt with thigh-high slits up both sides and a snug black top with a dramatically plunging neckline and belled sleeves--Shalimar jogged down the hall to her bathroom.  It too was mostly reds and blacks, save for the lights on the vanity, which shed only pure white light. She dressed hastily, applied her lip-gloss and pulled half of her hair up into a half ponytail, then jogged sedately back to her room to grab her bookbag--a black messenger bag, the front flap of which was graced with a picture of the head of a beautiful black wolf with crystalline blue eyes.  She stepped back to admire herself in the floor to ceiling mirror and nodded approval to her leggy twin.
She should be able to grab Dominic's attention in this outfit.
Shalimar smirked at the thought of him: Six feet, two inches of muscle, tattoos and piercings, and those haunting emerald eyes...  She chuckled as she pictured him while descending the stairs to the family room. Her dad, a tallish balding man with deep laugh lines about his mouth, looked up from his newspaper at the kitchen table.
"Morning, hon," he said cheerfully.
"Hey Dad," She replied, giving him a quick smile. Shalimar had a good relationship with her parents; she didn't try to rebel at every set ground rule, and they didn't complain about her style or tastes.  They were a well-rounded, typical California family.  If you can call diverse typical.
Shalimar's mother, Laureli Devereux, an attractive though very short French woman in her late thirties, was making pancakes and eggs.  Shalimar could smell them from upstairs.
"Wants some pancakes, Shal?" she asked without looking up in her lovely, heavily accented voice.
"No thanks, Mom, I gotta get going to school. I was supposed to be there ten minutes ago."  She didn't stick around for a reply, but slipped out the back door with a final wave to her father.  She would take the shortcut through the back alleys.  The early September day was quite warm, even at this ungodly hour, and the walk should be pleasant enough to distract her from the thought of another pointless year of school.
* * *
Craig had been about to fall out of his chair from dozing, but hastily regained control of his senses when the door to his homeroom opened.  Mr. Whittman stopped mid-sentence to look, then smiled as a beautiful girl wearing an unbelievable outfit stepped in and closed the door behind her.
"Good morning Shalimar," Mr. Whittman said as the girl handed him a note, which Craig assumed was from the attendance office. He also speculated that Mr. Whittman had had this chick in his class before, and that she was a favorite student of his, because she seemed very at ease with him and he wasn't at all angry that she was over twenty minutes late.  Craig had been lectured loudly up and down, and he'd walked in only five minutes after the bell.
"Sorry about interrupting," she hurriedly apologized with a smile. "My alarm clock decided to die on me."
Classic excuse, Craig thought.
Craig's immediate thought of her was 'goth,' that changed to 'punky,' then lastly 'hot vamp-ish chick.'  Absently, he began playing with his lip ring.  He took a minute to really get a good look at her:  Tall, maybe taller than himself, with long legs and a thin waist, but not too thin so that she looked anorexic like most other high school girls.  She looked and handled herself like an upperclassman, but he wouldn't know, since it was his first year at Baileys High.  He had transferred from out of state for his senior year.  His eyes traveled up to her full breasts, some of which were exposed by the plunging neckline of the top she wore.  A dreamy look clouded his face, and his eyes traveled farther up, to her elegant neck, then to her face.  To full, dark red-stained lips that were curved into a smirk.  To half-lidded outrageously pale blue eyes that were staring straight at him.
Craig's dream-state faded.  She had seen him watching her.  He snuck a glance at Mr. Whittman, who was also grinning.  Craig slouched deeper into his chair.  He looked around at everyone else, some of whom were staring blankly at him.  A few grinned.
"Would you like me to introduce you, Craig?" Mr. Whittman asked sarcastically.
Craig tilted his head and smiled at the vamplike chick, whose style closely resembled his own.  Lots of black. "Nah," he replied, "I can do that later, maybe this Friday night, at a movie."  He watched her face closely to see her reaction.  "Interested?"
Her grin widened devilishly.
Craig's bud, Adrian, spoke up from the back.  "No, she isn't, because she wants to go with me!"  The other idiots in the class 'ooohed' at the challenge and looked to Shalimar expectantly, who folded her arms across her chest.
Some other asswipe said, "You're both wrong, because she's gonna go with me!"
She shrugged and put her hands on her hips.  "You assume I'd want to go anywhere with any of you losers," she said sardonically and took the only empty seat, which was conveniently located beside Craig.  She winked at him as she slid oh-so-sweetly into her chair and took a spiral and pen from her backpack.
Mr. Whittman, who's pretty cool--for a teacher, anyway--was leaning against his desk with his arms crossed.  He shook his head and "tsk"ed jokingly when Shalimar took her seat.  "You're all quite finished, I hope?"
"Not until she says yes to my proposition," Craig said, turning to Shalimar and resting his chin on the heel of his palm.  He purposely slouched and let his fist slide up to his cheek, which bunched up the flesh comically.  He smiled sweetly at her.
Shal leaned back in her seat and flicked a small wadded up piece of paper at him, which hit him in the forehead.  She chuckled and said, "Sure, why not. It's not like I have any other plans."
A couple of people cheered, and Adrian called from the back, "Okay, that's cool, but I get next Friday then, right?"
Shalimar laughed and nodded to Mr. Whittman, who was waiting patiently to begin class.  Again.

Pens scribbled across paper as the thirty-some other people in Shalimar's World Lit class copied the notes Mr. Whittman had put up on the overhead, but Shal had been sneaking looks over at the guy who'd asked her out, whose name turned out to be Craig.  He had been sneaking looks at her, too, but he was now staring wistfully at the clock.  She looked up too and saw only ten minutes remained of the class until Tutorial.
Their little conversation at the beginning had taken up nearly a quarter of an hour of class, leaving another hour and a half for learning.  Baileys followed block scheduling; that is, there were three two-hour classes a day, separated by a fifteen-minute Tutorial break and a thirty-minute lunch.
As if on cue, Mr. Whittman, who was an older man of medium height and round girth, stepped forward and removed the transparency from the overhead and clicked it off. "Pack up," he said as he replaced the notes on mythology and epics back in its folder.  A few people started talking about their summer breaks as they stuffed notebooks and pens back in their bags, but others packed up in silence, listening instead to Mr. Whittman drone on about some assignment.  Shalimar was trying to imagine a date with the hottie beside her.  She looked over at him again, taking in his delicious face.
Wild black hair with dyed red tips looked as if it had never seen a brush, but wasn't horrendously messy either.  Two strands fell across his forehead and eyes, giving him a slightly brutish and mysterious look.  Low browline gave his amused mahogany eyes a serious twist, and a profile perfectly suited for a Roman coin.  His upper lip always curled slightly, and the corners of his mouth were always drawn up in a slow, easy grin.  His bottom lip was pierced with a thin ring to the left side.  He had three rings in his left ear and four in his right.  There was a spiked collar around his neck, and numerous studded and spiked bands on his wrists.  He wore a tight-fitted black t-shirt that day that showed off his impressive biceps and pecs.  Shalimar guessed he was about the same height as herself, if a little shorter.
She sighed softly and brought her bag up onto her desk.
"C'mon, bell..." Craig said softly, and they looked at each other, exchanging grins.
"That clock's wrong," Shalimar pointed out.
"Say what?"
"It's wrong. It's a couple minutes slow." She glanced at her watch and back up at the clock, which read about 9:33.  The class ended at 9:36.  Sure enough, after the second-hand made another sweep around the face, the bell sounded.  It couldn't really be considered a bell, though. It was more like a long, low beep.
"Let's go," Shal said as she hoisted her bag onto her shoulder and started for the door.
After they had pushed their way through the faceless multitude in the halls, Shalimar opened a door from the building that led to the patio by swinging her hip into the bar.  Craig just shook his head and smirked.
"Where're you taking me, and should I be afraid?" he asked amusedly.
"To meet my posse, and you should be terrified," she replied with a grin fit for a gruesome harlequin named Pennywise.

~Chapter 2~
Craig followed Shalimar to meet her 'posse,' as she called her friends, who terrorized the lower patio around the side of the main building.  They were mostly punkish types like themselves, but there were a few skater types and a handful of preps.
Shal, as Craig had learned to call her, called out to a chick she pointed out as 'Snuffy.'
"Her real name's Stephany," she had said, "but we all call her Snuffaluffagus.  Or Snuffy, for short.  Hey, SNUH-fee!!" she hollered, waving her arms.
The chick, who also looked like a senior, was taller than both Craig and Shalimar and had shoulder length blondish hair.  She was dressed like a toned-down punk type, with tight plaid cutoffs that had zippers safety-pinned all over them and a plain black t-shirt.  She looked up from her conversation with a super-skinny guy with wild black hair and smiled, waving back enthusiastically.  "Shmelly!"
"Shmelly?" Craig asked with a raised brow.
"Yup," Shalimar replied. "Don't know where they got it from. But I'm Shmelly, Steph is Snuffy, that girl over there is Shmallow." She pointed out the new girl, who was definitely goth-punk.
Shmallow came running up to them and 'oohed' playfully upon seeing Craig.  He grinned at her, then turned in surprise to Shalimar as she slipped an arm around his waist and squeezed softly.
"Uh-uh, Shmallow, I saw 'im first."  Shal grinned at him. "He's mine."
"Oh, so does that mean Dom's open now?" Shmallow, whose real name was Alyssa, asked sarcastically.
Shalimar shrieked indignantly at this remark, but turned to face Craig and wrapped her other arm around his other side, tilting her head at him. "Hmm," she sighed thoughtfully.  "As long as I get to keep this cutie, Dom's all yours," she cooed.
Alyssa lifted her brows and leaned back slightly in surprise.  She looked pointedly at Craig and said, "I don't know if the sun shines out of your ass or what, but if she's givin' up Dom for you, you must be special somehow."  With that, she bounced over to Stephany and helped her chase around the tall skinny dude.
"That would be Chance," Shal explained, following his gaze. "A lot of people seem to think he's... special up top," she said, tapping her head. "But I doubt it. I just think he's constantly on a sugar-high," she said with a chuckle. "He's really cool though. Weird, and sometimes annoying, but cool."
Craig looked back at Shal--which he preferred over 'Shmelly'--and wrapped his arms around her waist.  Their eyes were perfectly lined up.  She pushed her hips against his and smirked wickedly, her hands slowly, mercifully sliding down his lower back.  She leaned in to kiss him, deep scarlet lips parted slightly, and he tilted his head, lips awaiting hers.  But the kiss never came. Instead, Craig felt Shalimar's teeth testing the flesh of the juncture where neck meets shoulder.  She pulled away, but not without an affectionate pinch to his rear.  She smiled sweetly before she whirled and went to joke with Stephany and Chance.
Craig sighed and grinned wistfully, shoved his hands in his pockets and watched her slink away.  He looked around for Alyssa, whom Shal said was one of her best friends.  He wanted some background info on this girl who was slowly stealing his heart.  She was nowhere to be found -- and he wondered if she had gone to seek out the guy named Dom that had been mentioned earlier.  A crush of Shal's, by the sound of it. Craig frowned thoughtfully.  Had he interrupted something?
His speculative thoughts were interrupted by a shove to his shoulder from behind.  Craig turned, both arms at his sides, hands still in his pockets.  He came face-to-face with a muscular, fishnet-clad chest with a spider tattoo on the right pec.  Craig looked up at the guy's face.
His classically handsome features were contorted into a glaring sneer, one side of his upper lip pulled up like it had a fishhook in it.
"You Craig?" the guy, who had to have been at least six feet tall, asked in a deep, gravelly voice.
"I take it you're Dom then?" Craig replied with a smile as he offered his hand to shake.
Not surprisingly, 'Dom' didn't take it.  His sneer turned to a look of disgust.
"Who, that sonnuva bitch?" he growled.  "I'm Shal's boyfriend, Xander."
Craig's heart sank. The thought had never even occurred to him that Shal could have had a boyfriend already.  But why not? The girl seemed to have a way with the opposite sex.
"Dude, sorry about that, she never said anything about a boyfr --" The bell cut off Craig's explanation.  He hadn't been so much shaken by the big brute as he was the information he had just learned.
"Yea, alright, whatever," Xander said as he turned to lumber off to class.
An arm snaked its way around his neck from behind, and the familiar scent of vanilla wafted from the body that hugged him.
"I see you've met Xander," Shal cooed sarcastically.
Craig turned in her embrace and removed her arm.  "Boyfriend, Shal?" He asked, hurt.
Her eyes hardened to sparking sapphires.  "He told you we're going steady?! That rotten shitlick!" She shrieked.
Now Craig was genuinely confused.
"We went out last year, our junior year," she began explaining hurriedly as they gathered their things and started heading to next period.  "I broke it off, and he got mondo-pissed.  He doesn't want it to end, so he keeps telling everyone we're still together. Everybody knows it's over, which makes the whole situation kind of funny."
"He got really pissed when I asked if he was Dom," Craig observed.
Shal let out a delighted yelp of laughter.  "He would.  Dom's the whole reason I broke up with him."  She paused at the door to their next class, and instead pulled him into a near-deserted hallway a few lockers down.
"What...?" he asked, perplexed.
"And now that you're here, I have a reason to drop Dom," she said seductively as she gently stroked his lip ring.  She felt a shiver run down the length of his spine.
"Now, are you one of those girls that go through guys like Kleenex?" he asked, amused.
"But see, you're, like, a whole box, maybe two," she whispered before their lips met. Not wasting any time, she flicked his lip with her tongue and he eagerly invited her in.  He was practiced, and she liked his taste.  He must have liked hers too, because she had a tough time getting him to let her go to enter class.

~Chapter 3~
"Y'know," Stephany said to Shalimar as she swung a leg over the small wall that encircled the lower patio, straddling it. "Halloween is only two weeks away, and Lauren's party is next week."
Shal dug into a pocket of the baggy , multiplely zippered pants she wore that day to produce a few wadded up bills, then shoved them at Chance, who was animatedly talking to another regular at their group. "Buy me a burrito, will you? Combo, no sauce. Thankya much. Yea, so what?" she asked, turning back to Stephany.
"So..." the tall strawberry-blonde jerked her head towards Craig, who was buying himself his typical mini pizza at the food cart.  "Have you invited him?"
Shal snorted.  "What, to the party? I'm not even sure I want to go myself."
Lauren, a rather short chick of large build, was sort of known to be a slut when it came to the guys who hung around the lower patio.  She had even 'stolen' a guy from Shal, and seemed to have loved every minute of it.
"Billy's going, ya know," Stephany prompted, producing a sandwich from her backpack. It was widely known that she didn't see the point in wasting money on food if you could just bring some yourself.
"And your point?" Billy was in Lauren's clique, and was the boyfriend of Tricia, Lauren's best friend.  Shal could never understand why he chose to hang out with them though.  He was a cool guy, and he roleplayed on the 'net, like Shal herself did.
"I hear he and Tricia are in one of their rockier points," Stephany hinted.  People were always telling Shal that she should go out with Billy.  It's not like she hadn't considered it, but she wasn't too keen on making another enemy in the same clique.
"Wonderful for them.  Besides, I was thinking I could take Craig somewhere else. Away from... other people."  Shalimar was staring dreamily at him, but not quite seeing him.
"Gonna give it all to him, then? And you only met a month ago... tsk, tsk, tsk," Stephany chastened.
"Oh please, like you wouldn‘t hesitate with Chance," Shal countered.  Stephany was completely in love with him, but as far as they knew, Chance had no idea.
Stephany didn't reply, but pretended to concentrate on what was in her sandwich.
"Heya, Cupcake," Craig said as he came to perch on the wall beside Shalimar, planting a smacking kiss on her cheek.
"Heya, Sweet Cheeks," she replied, playfully pinching his butt.
Before Shal could stop her, Stephany brought up their Halloween plans. "Lauren's having a party next week. You going?"
"Party at Lauren's, huh," he asked Shal dryly in reply.
She glared as Stephany, who smiled sweetly and went back to her sandwich.  "Yea, on Saturday night."
"Sounds fun, but you don't seem all too thrilled about it," he pointed out.
"I'm not. I wasn't planning on going. There's a new club opening downtown that night, called the Vampyra.  I was hoping you'd join me.  I know the owner's daughter.  Got myself and some others on the VIP list."
Craig frowned thoughtfully and began playing with his lip ring, which he always did when he was bored or thinking, then nodded. "Sure, I’ll go.  Sounds more fun than the party."
"Um, hello, best friend here.  How come you didn't invite me?" Stephany asked, a testy edge to her voice.
Shal shrugged and replied, "Sorry Snuffy, but you spoiled it. I was going to surprise you.  You know, blindfold ya and drag you down there, only to reveal our location upon arriving."
Stephany chucked her sandwich at Chance, who was running around in circles squealing about going to the club too.
“Shut up, shitlick!” she yelled at him.
"But I wanna goooo," he said in his high, whiny voice.
Shalimar shrugged and put her arms around Craig and Stephany, pulling them close. "I shoulda kept my mouth shut. It was going to be a big surprise for you all, but since you already know…" She shrugged and shook her head.
Chance started jumping around, and finally headed off towards the food cart to get Shal her burrito.
"So, where is this club?" Craig asked as he took a bite from a slice of his mini pizza.
"Downtown, by the pier.  I think it's on Main Street."  Downtown was always the place to be in their smallish-yet-way-too-overly-populated city of Huntington Beach.  True to its name, the city was on the coast and was notorious for its surf.
"What's it called? Vampyra? That's a tad spooky, isn't it?" Stephany asked, but sounded far from nervous.  She, like most of their group, was into the 'dark and mythical' -- vampires, werewolves, and other stuff like dragons and unicorns and fairies.  Shalimar had even gotten Stephany into drawing them.
"Yup.  The manager and some employees are rumored to be vampires.  The rest of the help are said to be weres," Shal explained in an eerie voice as she took her burrito and change from the always-hyper Chance.
"Sounds like my kinda place," Craig said, trying to imagine it.
"Why do you think I invited you, my dear?" Shal replied, gently biting his neck.
“Who else is going?” Stephany asked, pulling a bag of Chee-tos from her backpack.
“Umm, Craig, you can bring Adrian, and… Shmallow of course.  She’d kill me if I didn’t invite her,” Shal said with a mock-shudder.
“I see,” Stephany said as she stuffed a handful of Chee-tos in her mouth.
The bell suddenly announced the end of lunch, and they all gathered their bags for their fifth-period classes.  Shal would join her friend Rissa to go to French 3, and Craig would go with Stephany and Chance to Foods.  Billy was in Shal's French class, too, but he sat on the other side of the room.
“Hey, Shal,” Craig whispered as he caught her arm. “C’mere.”
“Hmm? What?” she asked playfully, ready to steal a pick-me-up kiss before class.
Craig shook his head and instead reached into his coat pocket, then produced a small, plush velvet box.  Shal gasped.
“For you, my dear, on our month-and-a-half-a-versary,” he said softly and he slid the sterling silver and garnet ring on her finger.  All Shalimar could do was stare at it, speechless.
“Gotta get to class, babe,” Craig said, then planted a kiss on her cheek and hustled off.
Snuffy came up beside her and watched Craig hustle off.
"What was that about?"
Shal, still admiring the ring, tapped her arm.
"This.  He gave me this."
"Hmm? Ohh!"  Stephany grabbed Shal's hand and held it up close to her face, inspecting the ring as if she were a jewelry appraiser.  "Very lovely garnet, with two exquisitely tiny diamonds on either side.  Very pretty," she said.  Smiling, she gave Shal's hand a final pat and a squeeze.  "See ya tomorrow then."
"Right, 'bye!"  Shalimar, in somewhat of a daze, hoisted her bag onto her shoulder and went down to French.
Stephany watched her go.  Shal had no clue.  She pulled the ring, easily slipped off the smitten girl's finger, out of her pocket and smiled wickedly.  Easy as pie, just as he said it would be.
"Snuffy?"
Craig's tentative voice came as he peeked around the corner of the main building.
"I got it."  She jogged to him and handed over the ring.  "She had no idea, I think."
He sighed, then linked his arm in hers.  "Good."
They headed off to the parking lot to ditch the last class of the day.

French was pretty boring, as usual.  Shal spent her class time drawing in her notebook and passing notes with Rissa, and even talked to David, her partner, a little.  He was an arrogant, super-annoying and super-short guy, but he seemed to be warming up to her.  If she'd ever tried to punch his arm before he'd shy away and look at her like she was diseased, then say something along the lines of "What the hell!? Don't touch me!"  Today, however, she did punch his arm after a particular comment, and he grabbed his elbow and leaned over the other way laughing.
Males, Shalimar thought, then snorted.
She glanced back at the clock, then remembered this one was way off, and checked her watch.  “Twenty to go,” she breathed, then stretched out her hand to admire the garnet ring Craig had given her for their anniversary, then gave a little gasp.
The ring wasn’t on her finger.

Shalimar hurriedly shoved all her books into her bag and bolted out the door as soon as the bell sounded, then made her way up to the lower patio, watching the ground the whole way.
How could I lose the ring?  She snorted.  Well, apparently it wasn't too hard.  She had managed to quite nicely.
After throwing her bag down in the corner that the little walls created, Shalimar proceeded to scan the area, faster than she probably should have.  She was bent over one of the walls, digging through a bush that was in the garden area on the other side, when she heard someone approaching.
"Um, hey Shmelly..." Stephany's tentative and obviously curious voice said.
"Hey Snuffy," Shal replied, pushing herself up.
"What...?"
Shal pulled her close and looked around, then held up her hand.  Her hand with her bare ring finger.
Stephany raised an eyebrow and tilted her head.  "Yes, Shmelly, we all know how much skinnier your wrists are than everybody else's.  You don't have to go bragging about your high metabolism."
"No, look!" Shal hissed in reply. "Is there anything on my finger??"
Confused, Stephany inspected Shalimar's offered hand once more. "No," she said slowly, and somewhat sheepishly.  Shal experienced fleeting thoughts of curiosity, but ignored them.
"Exactly!" She replied instead with exasperation, yanking back her forearm. "The ring, Snuffy! It's gone!"
"You lost it!?" Stephany shrieked, then let out a bark of laughter.  "Dude, nice going. What d'you think he'll do?"
"I don't know," Shal groaned, then shoved Stephany over to the other wall. "But you're going to help me look for it."
"You forget I have a lesson in half an hour," she scolded with a waggling finger.  Stephany took ice-skating lessons, but since Shal had never been to one, she didn't know how skilled, or not, Stephany was.
"That gives you half an hour to help me look," Shal grumbled as she hopped over the wall to better look around in the garden area.
“I wouldn’t lose a ring if Chance gave one to me,” Stephany sniffed.
Shalimar growled, glaring at Stephany.  “Just… please help me look, Snuffy.”
“Sure, sure…” she replied, and continued looking with a tight grin.  She knew they weren’t going to find the ring here, but didn’t offer the information to Shal.

~Chapter 4~
Shalimar’s eyes were wide open as she lay in her bed with her headphones on.  They hadn’t found the ring.  She whimpered and turned up the volume to No Doubt, one of her favorite music groups.  She’d seen them live in concert with Garbage and the Distillers, two other popular rock groups.  In fact, she was wearing the spaghetti-strap top she'd bought as a souvenir.
Shalimar was thinking, like she had many times since coming home, how she would tell Craig.  Needless to say she was quite devastated, and had no idea how to break the news.  The ring had to have cost him a lot.
And now it was gone.
She rolled over on top of the covers and stared at her hand and bare finger, then pulled her knees up to her chin.
Would he still love her?
Shalimar groaned again and flopped back.  Would she tell him before or after the party at the club?
* * *
Mia grabbed a cloth from under the bar and wiped down the deep red faux marble countertop, for the millionth time.  She wanted everything to be perfect for the opening of her club, the Vampyra, which was still three nights away.  She tucked a stray lock of raven-black hair with dyed crimson tips behind her ear, which had multiple piercings.  Long, bloodred nails tapped the countertop as she imagined it.
Wild, spinning lights and multicolored strobes created a hellish if headache-inducing atmosphere, especially with the mirrored walls.  Every-other panel was a floor to ceiling mirror, and Mia suspected they wouldn’t stay whole for long.  The floor was untreated concrete, but red paint had been spattered all over it as if a bloody fight had occurred here some time ago.  Most of the décor was black, with some splashes of dark color here and there: red and purple curtains sheltering doorways that led to… more intimate rooms in the back, the red marble countertop, a few blue and purple couches with coordinating pillows.  No green could be found here.  The color was too… earthy, as Mia’s father Lucien would say.
Mia, born Miandra Wixom, and her father, Lucien Wixom, were vampires.  Most of the bartenders and other help were, too, but a few werewolves and even a witch could be found.  Normally, a witch would never be in such close proximity to vampires of her own free will.  Witches hunted vampires, and had done so for countless centuries.  Lucien was hesitant to hire Cara, but Mia had insisted she had given up her peoples’ customs and way of life.  She only knew a few spells, and they were mostly simple ones: starting a fire, creating light, purifying water, et cetera.  Witches protected the earth and its creatures, while vampires destroyed it.  That’s why you’d never find anything green in the Vampyra.
Mia’s clan elder, Elida Gandillon, had severely opposed the idea of opening the club.  She had said it was a bad idea to invite mortals into their ways of life, but Mia and Lucien insisted that they would be careful.  Elida swore she would never enter the place, which was fine by Mia.  The woman would probably destroy it, or at the very least cause a mass uproar by entering using magic; appearing with a flash or smoke or some other sort of bang.  Such entrances were rarely ever used, but Elida probably wouldn’t hesitate if it meant proving Lucien wrong.  Witches preferred stealth when it came to vampire hunting.
A knock interrupted Mia’s thoughts.
“Mia, hey, mind if I ask you a question?” asked a cool, nonchalant female voice.
“You already have,” Mia replied as she pushed herself up from the bar.  She gave it a last, almost affectionate rub with the cloth before throwing it back under.
The young witch grinned and let the door slam behind her as she walked in, long white-blonde hair streaming behind her.
“In that case, I have another.”
“Go ahead, Cara."
The witch came around the bar to where Mia was and looked underneath for a drink.  She pulled out an unlabeled bottle that contained a dark purplish liquid and swirled the contents, examining them thoughtfully.
"I was just wondering if Lucien was going to allow that new girl--what's her name? Sherrie?--to work opening night.  She seems a little too high-strung to handle the atmosphere."  Cara took a swig from the bottle.
Mia, leaning on her left arm, shook her head.  "He agrees with you.  She needs more time to adapt with human customs before being allowed to intermingle with mortals, though she insists she's ready."
The blonde girl nodded.  She was about to take another swig when suddenly the bottle fell from her hand and shattered on the concrete floor, its deep violet contents spilling everywhere.  She grimaced and took a step back, holding her ribs.
Mia stepped forward. "My God, Cara?"
She seemed to be gasping for air.  A horrendous noise came from her throat and she collapsed, clutching at her chest.
The vampress knelt beside the other girl, gently took hold of her mind, and soon was able to get her throat and chest to stop swelling and allow oxygen into her seared lungs.  Then she lulled the witch to sleep and arranged her into a more comfortable position on the floor.
A few sweaty wisps of hair had fallen across Cara's face.  Mia brushed them aside.
Hissing softly, Mia pivoted on the balls of her feet so that she now knelt facing the purple liquid Cara had drunk.  She ran two fingers through the stuff and sniffed it tentatively.
"Hemlock!" She cursed loudly in surprise and jumped up to her feet, hand held away from her face.   Hemlock was very powerful, especially against darklings.  It wouldn't kill a vampire, because they are, after all, for the most part immortal, but it could severely weaken and disorient them.  Cara was not a vampire.  She was lucky she would live.
Mia rubbed the potion between her middle finger and thumb thoughtfully, then vanished from Vampyra.  She reappeared a few feet from her father's side at their home, her arms at her sides.  The ability to transport oneself instantly from one place to another was one of the many abilities all vampires shared, and one Mia used often.
It was obvious her father wasn’t expecting her.  A bed sheet was wrapped around his waist and he was holding a bottle of bloodwine and two glasses.  He was just heading out of the kitchen, most likely to his bedroom where Mia didn’t doubt some wench was waiting for him.
Lucien, I need you at Vampyra.  Now, she hissed in his mind.  Telepathic communication was another ability.  Vampires could also read emotions and sense broad thoughts of other anthropomorphic creatures, and even intrude into other's minds and speak to them that way, but that only opened a door to direct communication.  Only if someone was intentionally forming and sending a thought could a vampire read it clearly.  But they couldn't necessarily read minds.
Her father dropped the glasses, which shattered on the tiled floor, but managed to keep hold of the wine.  Glittering fragments of glass flew in all directions.  He glared at her with such intense disgust she took a wary step back and hesitantly put up her mental shields.  Not only could vampires communicate through thoughts, but they could also send bolts of power and attack telepathically.
“Luc? What’s going on?” a throaty female voice called from down the hall.
“Nothing, Elidor, just a moment,” Lucien replied gruffly.
Mia hissed softly with disdain.  Elidor was Elida’s youngest fledgling, but also her favorite.  She was changed just a quarter-century ago.  Elidor had been a maid for a wealthy British family, and had been badly mistreated.  Elida had taken a liking to the girl and gave her her blood.  True, Elidor was not a proper vampire, but she was immortal and would not age as long as Elida remained alive.
Lucien shifted his grip on the bed sheet and threw a bolt of power at Mia with his mind.  The jab made her hiss louder, though it was largely ineffective since she had taken precautions earlier.
“What are you doing here?” he growled when his attack fell flat.
“It’s Cara.  She took a swig of poison at the bar.”
“Lucien?” came Elidor’s voice again, sounding annoyed this time.
“She’s unconscious now,” continued Mia as if she had not been interrupted, “but straight hemlock is sure to leave a few lasting effects.”  She watched his face carefully.  "Now, how do you suppose such a potent think like hemlock got into a bar run by the very creatures it is designed to eliminate?"
When he didn't say anything, she tilted her head very slightly and fixed him with a glare, then vanished from the kitchen.
Lucien cursed and slammed a fist down on the countertop of the island in the kitchen, sending a spider's web of cracks fanning out across it.

Mia wrung out the cloth she was wetting and brought herself to Cara’s side in one of the back rooms.  She snapped her fingers, bringing a chair to the bedside, and sat down.  A few locks of Cara’s naturally white-blonde hair had fallen across the girl’s eyes again; Mia moved them aside and blotted the cold rag on her forehead.  When Cara stirred, Mia produced a small red vial from her pant pocket and opened Cara’s mouth, then poured the black liquid it contained down her throat.  She coughed and sputtered, but Mia smiled at her as her eyes flew open.
“Poison!” Cara croaked and tried to sit up, but Mia took hold of her mind and gently laid her back down, lulling her back to sleep.
“Poison,” the vampress confirmed, then left the witch's bedside to seek Elida, whom she was sure had committed this treacherous act.
*                *                *
Shalimar’s week had so far sucked.  Stephany was away on vacation before Halloween and Alyssa was engrossed with some new boyfriend and Chance was no where to be found.  Alyssa, though one of Shalimar’s best friends, didn’t hang out with their group; Shal knew her through some classes, and the chick was her ride home everyday until Shal’s car was fixed.  Shalimar had no shoulder to cry on, no one to offer comfort.
She couldn’t  bear to face Craig.  She only half returned his sweet hugs and kisses, and she covered her unbearably bare hand and finger when around him.
“Shal, something’s definitely bothering you,” he finally said one day.  “Why won’t you tell me why you’re so upset?”
Her shoulders shook as her pent up sobs rippled loose, and she sat hard on the little wall.
“The ring,” Shal cried, and held up her hand.
Craig sank to his knees in front of her, his Hershey-chocolate eyes soft and apologetic.
“Oh Shal,” he sighed as he rested his forehead in her lap.
She couldn’t resist curling her fingers in his hair.
“W-what? Aren’t you mad?” Shal asked cautiously.
“Not at all--in fact, I’m just the opposite.  I’m so, so sorry I caused you so much grief.”
She regarded the top of his head with curious eyes, her head tilted slightly.
Without changing his position, Craig dug in his coat pocket and took out a plush, deep red velvet box.  Shalimar gasped.  For the second time.
“I got Snuffy to get it for me.”  He held out the box to Shal, but she didn’t take it.  She just stared at him, not knowing what to do.  “I got it engraved.  It says ‘Craig + Shal, ‘03’ on the inside now,” Craig said as he slowly rose to his feet.  Shal remained seated, still staring wide-eyed at him.
He opened the box and produced the ring, then took her limp hand and gently slipped the ring on her finger.
“I love you,” he said softly and kissed her cheek.
Tears ran anew down Shal’s face, and she threw her arms around his neck, holding tightly to him.  “I love you too,” she sobbed.
They sat like this , holding each other, enjoying the simple joy of companionable silence, for the better part of an hour.

~Chapter 5~
Cara awoke to darkness.  Deep violet curtains fluttered in the gentle breeze the open window allowed into the room, the light of the full moon spilling inside.  She breathed deeply the fresh midnight air, which somehow seemed to give her strength.
She threw her legs over the side of the king-sized bed and went to the window to look out over the beach.  The moonlight shone off the ocean as if a million diamonds were adrift in the endless mass of water, glittering across the vast expanse.
Cara saw movement on the sand: a dark, four-legged form that loped parallel to the water.  A dog? she wondered.
“That’s one damn big dog then, isn’t it?” a soft voice said with a chuckle, intruding on her thoughts.
Cara didn’t have to turn to see who it was.
“Corey out for a run?” she replied instead.
Mia was at Cara’s side in the blink of an eye, her arm around the slighter witch’s shoulders.  Cara rested her head on Mia’s shoulder.
They watched the joyful running of the werewolf as he challenged the waves, chasing them out when the tide receded and running back in when a new wave broke.  He must have sensed them watching or seen them, because he stopped short and howled a brief invitation before yowling a complaint as the freezing water lapped at his paws.
Mia brought them both out to the shoreline.  Cara tackled the large wolf and rubbed his belly. “Hey Corey,” she said as she affectionately scratched his ears.
His tongue lolled from his mouth as he rolled playfully in the wet sand.
Cara, Mia and Corey romped and rolled in the water and sand the rest of the night before collapsing from exhaustion back in their rooms just before dawn.
                               * * *
Shalimar danced in her room to music only she could hear.  Lately, she had become obsessed with all music light and airy.  Celtic in particular was her favorite.  She had popped ‘Pure Moods III’ into her portable CD player, and her headphones gave her access to a world of loving, beautiful music of pianos, flutes, and violins.  The current song sounded much like a sort of waltz, a repetition of three basic notes with an accompanying melody.
The music Shal now listened to and floated about her room to would be the very opposite of what she would be dancing to tonight: loud, raucous, head-banging punk that the club would play.  Craig was coming to pick her up in little more than an hour, and she hadn’t even begun to get ready.
The outfit she had chosen for the night consisted of a simple tight black midriff-baring t-shirt and baggy dark gray cargo pants with attached mock-suspenders, more for show and accessory than for use.  The only other accessories Shalimar would wear were a plaid tie and numerous studded and spiked bracelets.  And Craig’s ring, of course.  She never took it off.
After a hasty shower, Shalimar dressed and applied her bloodred lip gloss, just a touch of foundation to make her skin glow, and a dark metallic eye shadow was applied to her eyelids to make her eyes stand out.  Her nails were given a couple coats of deep red polish, and she sacrificed a few moments to toss her hair around and ruffle it a bit, giving it a more textured and wild look.
With a few minutes to spare before Craig should show up, Shalimar went to her closet.  The sliding mirrored doors opened with a shrill, squeaking protest, giving Shal goose bumps.  She reached in and grabbed the first thing her fingers brushed; an old, worn out shoebox.  She opened it and grabbed a fistful of cash, which she shoved into her pocket, then replaced the box.
“Shal, your friends are here!” her father yelled up the stairs.
“’Kay,” she replied, then went around her bed and to the door, where she slipped on some old gray skater-type shoes, then jogged down the stairs.
Craig was sitting on the couch in the living room, Alyssa between him and Adrian.  Stephany was sitting on Chance’s lap on the loveseat.  She had finally gotten up the courage to ask him out, despite how doing so could have affected their friendship.  Turns out he had liked her for as long as he could remember, and they’ve been happily together ever since.
All were wearing their usual ensembles of black with spikes, studs, and piercings.  They were all talking animatedly about what they thought the club would be like.  Shalimar’s parents were nowhere in sight.
Shal paused at the base of the stairs, which was behind the couch.  None of her friends had noticed her descent.  Shalimar looked down at the steps for something to throw, and found an old slipper of her mother’s and took aim.  The pink slipper hit Craig squarely in the back of the head, and Stephany and Alyssa erupted into giggles.  Adrian barked a laugh, and Chance squealed.  Shal skipped to the couch and Stephany offered her props, which she accepted enthusiastically.
“Let’s roll,” Shalimar prompted, and Craig answered by jumping to his feet and tackling Shal into the couch.  Alyssa shrieked and rolled away to avoid getting squashed.
“Shouldn’t you be saving your energy for the club?” Shal’s mother asked from the doorway to the kitchen, a grin on her face.
“You’re probably right, Laureli,” Stephany replied.  Shalimar’s parents didn’t think it necessary for her friends to call them "Mr." or "Mrs. Devereux," so they insisted on being called by their first names.
“Parking’ll be hell if you don’t get going,” Shal’s father pointed out.
Craig sighed and stood, pulling a giggling Shalimar to her feet with him.
“Okay. Bye Mom, love you guys,” she said as she made her way towards the door.
“You guys be careful, not too much drinking,” her father warned with a waggling finger.
“I’ll keep a close watch on them, Dave,” Craig assured him with a smile, putting a protective arm around Shal. “Later Laureli.”
“Bye-ee!” Stephany added cheerfully, hand in hand with Chance.  Adrian waved.
“Have fun, kids,” Laureli called after them.
Once outside, Craig ran around the back of his ’67 midnight blue Impala and graciously opened the passenger doors for the Shalimar and Alyssa, who curtsied and hopped in.  Chance would ride with Stephany in Adrian’s Hyundai.
“And we’re off!” Craig announced as he slid in and keyed the car to life, revving the engine in a final farewell to Shal’s parents before pulling out from the curb and heading down to Main Street to the grand opening of Vampyra.
                               * * *
Lucien Wixom grabbed a ring of keys that hung from the outstretched talon of a gargoyle that perched, watching, above the back cabinet.  It took a moment to find the key he wanted in the disorienting red lights as he walked to the front door, where there was a line of people that extended around the side of the block.  He knocked on the glass to get the bouncer’s attention, who nodded and stepped back.  Luc could hear the people screaming as he unlocked the door then latched it back.
“Welcome to your darkest nightmare!” Lucien bellowed to the crowd, who shrieked and cheered in reply.  Satisfied, he turned on a heel and made his way back to the bar, replaced the keys on the gargoyle’s talon, and threw back the curtain to the back rooms.
“Mia! Get everyone’s asses out here! We’re open!” he yelled, and his daughter and the rest of the help soon appeared.
“You all know your posts?” Mia asked as she fastened another spiked cuff around her wrist.  Her ensemble consisted of a black tank top, black cargoes, and combat boots.  The only makeup she wore was black liquid eyeliner, which heavily outlined her eyes.  Her raven-black hair hung simply over her shoulders and spilled down to her mid-back.
Everyone else had much the same uniform: tight black tanks, black cargoes, and combat boots.  Any other accessories were optional, but everyone had at least one piercing, tattoo, or spiked bracelet or collar to show off.
Cara’s white-blonde hair reflected the dizzying lights for an outrageous effect, so most couldn’t tell what her natural hair color was.  True, she felt somewhat out of place among the dark-haired vampires and werewolves, but at least she loved what she was doing.
Cara didn’t flinch as a hand snaked around her waist, followed by and arm that hugged her just below her breasts.  She was held tight against a rock-hard body, and she felt sharp teeth testing the flesh of her neck.
“Corey, what’re you doing? Get off,” she said, sarcastically exasperated, as she tried to push the tall werewolf away.  Corey, in his wolven form, was a sleek slate grey and could kick anyone’s ass.  He was sort of the undeclared ‘alpha’ among the other weres, and wouldn’t hesitate to take on any challengers.  He was large, even by werewolf standards, and thoroughly muscled.  His howl was deep and throaty, like velvet thunder.
However massive and powerful Corey was in his were form, he looked like any other Joe in his human form.  If anything, he was simply tall and of medium-to-skinny build.  He wasn‘t buff by any means, but it was almost as if he were made of pure muscle.  No doubt he was stronger than he looked.
Cara managed to disengage his arm from around her waist, but that didn’t stop him from planting a brotherly kiss on her cheek.
“Bleagh!” she exclaimed, giggling, and wiped her cheek.  She playfully elbowed him in the ribs, and was suddenly hit with a weird vibe.  Corey was staring at the door.  Cara followed his gaze, and saw a beautiful girl that looked as if she was a vampire herself.
In almost all black, with near white irises and hair as black as obsidian, she looked almost demonic.  Something in her aura was faintly… ‘dark’ as well.  One of her arms was slung around another girl’s shoulders, the other was around an attractive male’s waist.  Cara’s eyes lingered on the male; tall, wearing a mesh long-sleeved shirt, with spiked black hair with what appeared to be red tips.  There was a ring in his lip.
Corey must have been taking the girls in, because when Mia poked them and told them to start pouring drinks, Corey ran his fingers through his spiked black hair and grinned to himself.
“The girl with the tie is Shalimar.  I met her at a concert a few months back,” Mia informed them as she poured a Jack Daniels on the rocks for a guy who was leaning on the bar, grinning stupidly at her and Cara.
“You know her?” Corey asked, surprised.  Rarely did darklings-- vampires, witches, werewolves, et cetera-- bother to associate with humans.  They might go to public places once in awhile, just for something different to do, but they wouldn’t usually socialize.
Mia nodded.  “Something about her drew me to her.  She seems… darker than the rest.”
Cara watched as the girl and her friends lounged on a massive purple couch off to the side, chatting and laughing together.
“Something in her aura is different than those of her friends.  It’s almost as if she’s a darkling herself, but just doesn’t know it… or chooses to ignore it,” the young witch commented as she mixed a margarita.
One of the males, an athlete by the look of him, rose from the couch and maneuvered around the crowd to the bar.  He put both hands on the surface and drummed his fingers on the marble before making his order.
“Six Buds, please,” he said to Cara, who was closest to him.  He had to shout to be heard over the pounding rock music.
“Glass or bottle?” Cara yelled back, reaching under the bar and producing the requested six Buds, three in each hand, the necks held between her fingers.  She set them on the bar before him with a clang of glass on marble.
“Bottles are fine, thanks,” he hollered as he took the beers and slapped down some bills. Then he turned and danced his way back to his friends, handing each one a bottle.  The girl Mia had addressed as Shalimar raised her bottle, and there was a resounding clang as they toasted.
Corey frowned thoughtfully and commented to Mia, who returned from the back with an armful off new glasses, “That Shalimar girl really seems to be strong.  Certainly stronger than any other human I’ve come into contact with.  D’you think it would be possible to… approach her?”
“Suggesting she might be of darkling descent?” Cara asked incredulously. “Oh sure, go right ahead! I can’t wait to see what her reaction would be.”
“Not to mention Elida’s,” Mia grumbled.  To Corey, she said, “Better not.  We could try taking her to the back before she leaves, though.”
“Sure.  And say you just want to see how she's been,” Cara added, understanding.
Mia nodded.
“What about the others?” Corey asked.
The raven-haired vampress shrugged.  “Distract them.”

~Chapter 6~
Shalimar took no time adjusting to the psychotic atmosphere of the Vampyra, but the same could not be said for the others.  They had to pause just inside to look around and make sure the room wasn’t really spinning out from under them.
“Check out the bartenders,” Adrian shouted, elbowing Craig in the ribs.  “Vampires or not, they’re damn hot.”
“So is the one I’ve got here,” Craig replied with a smirk as he hugged Shalimar from behind.
“Let’s go hang out over there for a couple minutes,” she suggested with a nod towards an overstuffed purple couch.  They all made their way around the dancing mass of people to the lounge area and collapsed onto the couch.
A bit later, Adrian stood and went to the bar.
“Beers anyone?” he asked when he returned with six Buds.  Everyone accepted with a small cheer.
“Who’s the guy back there?” Alyssa asked when Adrian sat next to her, gesturing towards the bar with her beer.
“The bartender?  Dunno.  The blonde cutie was the one who I talked to.  At least, I think she’s blonde,” he replied with a shrug, addressing the psychotic lights.
“Who wants to dance?” Stephany suggested after everyone had taken a few swigs from their beers.
“Great idea,” Alyssa agreed, her gaze fixed to something across the room.  Adrian followed her gaze, and realized she was staring at a tall, skinny guy with tall spiked hair.  His chin was on the pointier side, and his long face was neither wide nor thin, but right in between.  He never frowned, but always kept a charming and thoroughly infectious smile on his rather thin lips.  The long-sleeved red and grey shirt he wore accented his big green eyes, which were topped by not-too-thin-and-not-too-bushy eyebrows.  The guy looked cool enough, Adrian decided, and could see why Alyssa would be attracted to him.
Not surprisingly, Alyssa was the first to venture out onto the dance floor.
Adrian chuckled. “Hey guys, Shmallow’s on the prowl,” he said as he elbowed Craig.
“Ooh, where’s the guy?” Stephany asked curiously, looking to where Alyssa disappeared in the crowd.  Chance smacked her arm.  Steph shrugged, then gave him a brief but hard hug in apology.
“He’s over by the bar somewhere,” Adrian replied with a grin, nodding in the direction. “He wasn’t dancing.”
“Well, we are!” exclaimed Shalimar as she pulled Craig out to the dance floor with her.  Stephany took Chance’s offered arm and followed, but Adrian remained by the couch.
At 6'1", Adrian  was tall, athletic, and not unattractive.  He wore his hair naturally black and thoroughly spiked, and kept a small, tidy goatee.  His lineup of piercings were a nose ring, a barbell in his tongue, and a ring in his left eyebrow.  His style differed from Craig's more punkish closet; Adrian preferred a more laid-back, skater-punk style.
It turns out Adrian had actually dated one of Shalimar's friends in Junior year, and once that fact was realized, they both swore the other was faintly remembered.
"Didn't you have meatloaf sideburns back then?" Shal had asked, squinting as if trying to clear the foggy memory.
"Yea," he replied with a groan, head tilted back.  "It was like a year-long bad hair day."
"You life is a bad hair day," Craig exclaimed, sending the others into throws of laughter and earning a punch on the arm from Adrian.
It hardly hurt now, but he found himself rubbing the sore spot anyway.
"Aww, not nervous now, are we?" came a sing-songy voice from the couch beside him.
"Of course not," he chuckled.  "This is hardly the sort of place that allows you to be shy."  Adrian turned to face his speaker, and was surprised to see the face of the bartender who'd given him the beers.
"Cara," she said by way of introduction, tossing her hair back from her face and offering her hand.
He took it and stood, bowing slightly to her.
"Adrian," he replied, then kissed her hand.  "Could I perhaps interest you in a tasteful session of crotch-rubbing?" he inquired innocently.  Cara looked appalled.  Adrian laughed, then patted her hand reassuringly.
"Dancing, ma'am, nothing more."  Then he reconsidered.  "Could freaking really be considered dancing though?" he wondered aloud.
"Whatever it is, it sounds fantastic," she said and rose to make her way towards the dance floor.
"You mean you've never danced before?" Adrian inquired incredulously as he followed her, sticking close.
She shrugged as she turned to face him on the floor.  "Does it matter?  I mean, you can teach me, can't you?"  She stepped back, figure-eighting her hips to the music.
It didn't seem to Adrian that she needed much teaching, and he said as much.  "Just let the music take you.  And let me lead."
He put his hands on her waist, just above her hips, and schooled her motions to match his own.  When she had it down he released her and they just danced, laughing when the other would somehow misstep.  They both had a blast.
               * * *
So far, opening night wasn't anything to scream about.  Mia thought so, anyway.  Apart from the occasional outlandish character or fight, it was pretty redundant: people requested drinks, she or Cara or Corey or one of the others would mix them.  The arrival of another, undistinguished darkling caused a slight stir among the employees, but he didn't cause any trouble so they left him alone.
About an hour and a half into the night, Cara whispered something to Corey, who nodded and shooed her away.  The young witch scooted out from behind the bar and disappeared into the throbbing, jumping throng.  Mia finished drying the glass she held then set it down none-too-gingerly on the bar and turned to him, brows drawn together and lips pursed.
"Break," he said simply with a shrug and handed a girl a beer from under the counter.
Mia frowned and propped her head up on a fist.
"Why would she want a break?  We've been busy, sure, but it hasn’t been enough to faze her," she commented with a scowl.
Corey shrugged again, then glanced out at the crowd.  He stopped reaching for an empty glass, a slow smile spreading across his face.  He glanced at Mia without turning, and nodded towards the dance floor.
"Apparently," he said smugly, "she wanted to meet up with him."  He chuckled then picked up the glass, tossed it behind his back and caught it with his other hand, then mixed another drink with other such flourishes.
Frowning again, Mia looked where Corey had indicated and had no trouble picking out Cara.  Her hair was a never-tiring, ever headache-inducing whirl of Picasso-esque flashes of color.  She was dancing thisclose to a tall, lean, attractive young man, who laughed and deftly caught her when she tripped, most likely over her own feet.
Mia experienced a twinge of anger and jealousy, her frown deepening and eyes narrowing.  Someone slapped the bar and called out for a drink, which she hastily produced.
Corey took notice of her sour mood.
"Chill, Mia.  You act like she's your fledgling or something," he reprimanded as he poured another drink.
She flashed him a look so cold and livid he had to take a step back, putting his hands up as sign of defeat.
Fledglings were notoriously defended by those they drank from.  A vampire was an extremely jealous sort of creature when it came to offspring, which was basically what fledglings were.  Even though they could indulge in sexual acts, vampire couldn't sexually reproduce; fledglings were the closest thing a vampire could have to children.  It was frowned upon that Cara was in the company of vampires to begin with.  To suggest Mia had bled for her was unthinkable.  At least, in Elida's eyes.
"Alright, alright, never mind.  Forget I said anything," he said, eyes lingering on her potent glare as he slid an extravagantly-mixed drink to its new holder.
Mia looked out onto the dance floor again, left hand on the cold marble bar-top, body facing towards Corey, who was already mixing another poison.  Neither Cara nor the male she had been dancing with could be found.  She scanned the rest of a throbbing, pulsing, thumping club and found the blonde witch leading the male to the curtained-off rooms in the back, arms linked.  Both were laughing.
Mia hissed and looked away, gouging small pieces of marble out of the bar-top with her nails, unsheathed to accommodate her anger.  She then blinked out, much to the surprise of the mortals awaiting drinks.
But not before a single bloodred tear could land in one of the hollows she'd created, filling the cavity as a tear c

Description
                                     Installment One Of
                                -=+ New Moon Rising +=-

                        ~Chapter 1~
Shalimar Devereux groaned and rolled over as her alarm clock began shrieking -- again, for the third time that morning.  She pulled a pillow over her face and hugged it there to try and drown out the incessant wailing, but to no avail.  With a frustrated sigh, she rolled back over, intent on beating the contraption into silence, but cursed herself when she saw the time.
"Thanks for coming in and making sure I'm up, Mom," Shalimar grumbled as she threw off the ink-black comforter and deep red sheets.  "Late on the first day of school.  What an impression to make on the teachers."  She shuffled across the near-black carpet to her closet, which contained mostly black clothing.  Her style was classic goth-vampyric, and her looks showed for it: At seventeen, Shalimar had a naturally fair complexion (which was also aided by lack of direct sunlight) and waist-length black hair that never tangled.  Her eyes were a light grey-blue, and were outlined with naturally dark eyelashes.  She had no need for mascara or eyeliner, which she was all the more grateful for.  The only makeup Shalimar wore was a deep, bloodred lip-gloss that seemed to lighten her flawless complexion even more.
After grabbing a typical outfit--long, fitted black skirt with thigh-high slits up both sides and a snug black top with a dramatically plunging neckline and belled sleeves--Shalimar jogged down the hall to her bathroom.  It too was mostly reds and blacks, save for the lights on the vanity, which shed only pure white light. She dressed hastily, applied her lip-gloss and pulled half of her hair up into a half ponytail, then jogged sedately back to her room to grab her bookbag--a black messenger bag, the front flap of which was graced with a picture of the head of a beautiful black wolf with crystalline blue eyes.  She stepped back to admire herself in the floor to ceiling mirror and nodded approval to her leggy twin.
She should be able to grab Dominic's attention in this outfit.
Shalimar smirked at the thought of him: Six feet, two inches of muscle, tattoos and piercings, and those haunting emerald eyes...  She chuckled as she pictured him while descending the stairs to the family room. Her dad, a tallish balding man with deep laugh lines about his mouth, looked up from his newspaper at the kitchen table.
"Morning, hon," he said cheerfully.
"Hey Dad," She replied, giving him a quick smile. Shalimar had a good relationship with her parents; she didn't try to rebel at every set ground rule, and they didn't complain about her style or tastes.  They were a well-rounded, typical California family.  If you can call diverse typical.
Shalimar's mother, Laureli Devereux, an attractive though very short French woman in her late thirties, was making pancakes and eggs.  Shalimar could smell them from upstairs.
"Wants some pancakes, Shal?" she asked without looking up in her lovely, heavily accented voice.
"No thanks, Mom, I gotta get going to school. I was supposed to be there ten minutes ago."  She didn't stick around for a reply, but slipped out the back door with a final wave to her father.  She would take the shortcut through the back alleys.  The early September day was quite warm, even at this ungodly hour, and the walk should be pleasant enough to distract her from the thought of another pointless year of school.
* * *
Craig had been about to fall out of his chair from dozing, but hastily regained control of his senses when the door to his homeroom opened.  Mr. Whittman stopped mid-sentence to look, then smiled as a beautiful girl wearing an unbelievable outfit stepped in and closed the door behind her.
"Good morning Shalimar," Mr. Whittman said as the girl handed him a note, which Craig assumed was from the attendance office. He also speculated that Mr. Whittman had had this chick in his class before, and that she was a favorite student of his, because she seemed very at ease with him and he wasn't at all angry that she was over twenty minutes late.  Craig had been lectured loudly up and down, and he'd walked in only five minutes after the bell.
"Sorry about interrupting," she hurriedly apologized with a smile. "My alarm clock decided to die on me."
Classic excuse, Craig thought.
Craig's immediate thought of her was 'goth,' that changed to 'punky,' then lastly 'hot vamp-ish chick.'  Absently, he began playing with his lip ring.  He took a minute to really get a good look at her:  Tall, maybe taller than himself, with long legs and a thin waist, but not too thin so that she looked anorexic like most other high school girls.  She looked and handled herself like an upperclassman, but he wouldn't know, since it was his first year at Baileys High.  He had transferred from out of state for his senior year.  His eyes traveled up to her full breasts, some of which were exposed by the plunging neckline of the top she wore.  A dreamy look clouded his face, and his eyes traveled farther up, to her elegant neck, then to her face.  To full, dark red-stained lips that were curved into a smirk.  To half-lidded outrageously pale blue eyes that were staring straight at him.
Craig's dream-state faded.  She had seen him watching her.  He snuck a glance at Mr. Whittman, who was also grinning.  Craig slouched deeper into his chair.  He looked around at everyone else, some of whom were staring blankly at him.  A few grinned.
"Would you like me to introduce you, Craig?" Mr. Whittman asked sarcastically.
Craig tilted his head and smiled at the vamplike chick, whose style closely resembled his own.  Lots of black. "Nah," he replied, "I can do that later, maybe this Friday night, at a movie."  He watched her face closely to see her reaction.  "Interested?"
Her grin widened devilishly.
Craig's bud, Adrian, spoke up from the back.  "No, she isn't, because she wants to go with me!"  The other idiots in the class 'ooohed' at the challenge and looked to Shalimar expectantly, who folded her arms across her chest.
Some other asswipe said, "You're both wrong, because she's gonna go with me!"
She shrugged and put her hands on her hips.  "You assume I'd want to go anywhere with any of you losers," she said sardonically and took the only empty seat, which was conveniently located beside Craig.  She winked at him as she slid oh-so-sweetly into her chair and took a spiral and pen from her backpack.
Mr. Whittman, who's pretty cool--for a teacher, anyway--was leaning against his desk with his arms crossed.  He shook his head and "tsk"ed jokingly when Shalimar took her seat.  "You're all quite finished, I hope?"
"Not until she says yes to my proposition," Craig said, turning to Shalimar and resting his chin on the heel of his palm.  He purposely slouched and let his fist slide up to his cheek, which bunched up the flesh comically.  He smiled sweetly at her.
Shal leaned back in her seat and flicked a small wadded up piece of paper at him, which hit him in the forehead.  She chuckled and said, "Sure, why not. It's not like I have any other plans."
A couple of people cheered, and Adrian called from the back, "Okay, that's cool, but I get next Friday then, right?"
Shalimar laughed and nodded to Mr. Whittman, who was waiting patiently to begin class.  Again.

Pens scribbled across paper as the thirty-some other people in Shalimar's World Lit class copied the notes Mr. Whittman had put up on the overhead, but Shal had been sneaking looks over at the guy who'd asked her out, whose name turned out to be Craig.  He had been sneaking looks at her, too, but he was now staring wistfully at the clock.  She looked up too and saw only ten minutes remained of the class until Tutorial.
Their little conversation at the beginning had taken up nearly a quarter of an hour of class, leaving another hour and a half for learning.  Baileys followed block scheduling; that is, there were three two-hour classes a day, separated by a fifteen-minute Tutorial break and a thirty-minute lunch.
As if on cue, Mr. Whittman, who was an older man of medium height and round girth, stepped forward and removed the transparency from the overhead and clicked it off. "Pack up," he said as he replaced the notes on mythology and epics back in its folder.  A few people started talking about their summer breaks as they stuffed notebooks and pens back in their bags, but others packed up in silence, listening instead to Mr. Whittman drone on about some assignment.  Shalimar was trying to imagine a date with the hottie beside her.  She looked over at him again, taking in his delicious face.
Wild black hair with dyed red tips looked as if it had never seen a brush, but wasn't horrendously messy either.  Two strands fell across his forehead and eyes, giving him a slightly brutish and mysterious look.  Low browline gave his amused mahogany eyes a serious twist, and a profile perfectly suited for a Roman coin.  His upper lip always curled slightly, and the corners of his mouth were always drawn up in a slow, easy grin.  His bottom lip was pierced with a thin ring to the left side.  He had three rings in his left ear and four in his right.  There was a spiked collar around his neck, and numerous studded and spiked bands on his wrists.  He wore a tight-fitted black t-shirt that day that showed off his impressive biceps and pecs.  Shalimar guessed he was about the same height as herself, if a little shorter.
She sighed softly and brought her bag up onto her desk.
"C'mon, bell..." Craig said softly, and they looked at each other, exchanging grins.
"That clock's wrong," Shalimar pointed out.
"Say what?"
"It's wrong. It's a couple minutes slow." She glanced at her watch and back up at the clock, which read about 9:33.  The class ended at 9:36.  Sure enough, after the second-hand made another sweep around the face, the bell sounded.  It couldn't really be considered a bell, though. It was more like a long, low beep.
"Let's go," Shal said as she hoisted her bag onto her shoulder and started for the door.
After they had pushed their way through the faceless multitude in the halls, Shalimar opened a door from the building that led to the patio by swinging her hip into the bar.  Craig just shook his head and smirked.
"Where're you taking me, and should I be afraid?" he asked amusedly.
"To meet my posse, and you should be terrified," she replied with a grin fit for a gruesome harlequin named Pennywise.

~Chapter 2~
Craig followed Shalimar to meet her 'posse,' as she called her friends, who terrorized the lower patio around the side of the main building.  They were mostly punkish types like themselves, but there were a few skater types and a handful of preps.
Shal, as Craig had learned to call her, called out to a chick she pointed out as 'Snuffy.'
"Her real name's Stephany," she had said, "but we all call her Snuffaluffagus.  Or Snuffy, for short.  Hey, SNUH-fee!!" she hollered, waving her arms.
The chick, who also looked like a senior, was taller than both Craig and Shalimar and had shoulder length blondish hair.  She was dressed like a toned-down punk type, with tight plaid cutoffs that had zippers safety-pinned all over them and a plain black t-shirt.  She looked up from her conversation with a super-skinny guy with wild black hair and smiled, waving back enthusiastically.  "Shmelly!"
"Shmelly?" Craig asked with a raised brow.
"Yup," Shalimar replied. "Don't know where they got it from. But I'm Shmelly, Steph is Snuffy, that girl over there is Shmallow." She pointed out the new girl, who was definitely goth-punk.
Shmallow came running up to them and 'oohed' playfully upon seeing Craig.  He grinned at her, then turned in surprise to Shalimar as she slipped an arm around his waist and squeezed softly.
"Uh-uh, Shmallow, I saw 'im first."  Shal grinned at him. "He's mine."
"Oh, so does that mean Dom's open now?" Shmallow, whose real name was Alyssa, asked sarcastically.
Shalimar shrieked indignantly at this remark, but turned to face Craig and wrapped her other arm around his other side, tilting her head at him. "Hmm," she sighed thoughtfully.  "As long as I get to keep this cutie, Dom's all yours," she cooed.
Alyssa lifted her brows and leaned back slightly in surprise.  She looked pointedly at Craig and said, "I don't know if the sun shines out of your ass or what, but if she's givin' up Dom for you, you must be special somehow."  With that, she bounced over to Stephany and helped her chase around the tall skinny dude.
"That would be Chance," Shal explained, following his gaze. "A lot of people seem to think he's... special up top," she said, tapping her head. "But I doubt it. I just think he's constantly on a sugar-high," she said with a chuckle. "He's really cool though. Weird, and sometimes annoying, but cool."
Craig looked back at Shal--which he preferred over 'Shmelly'--and wrapped his arms around her waist.  Their eyes were perfectly lined up.  She pushed her hips against his and smirked wickedly, her hands slowly, mercifully sliding down his lower back.  She leaned in to kiss him, deep scarlet lips parted slightly, and he tilted his head, lips awaiting hers.  But the kiss never came. Instead, Craig felt Shalimar's teeth testing the flesh of the juncture where neck meets shoulder.  She pulled away, but not without an affectionate pinch to his rear.  She smiled sweetly before she whirled and went to joke with Stephany and Chance.
Craig sighed and grinned wistfully, shoved his hands in his pockets and watched her slink away.  He looked around for Alyssa, whom Shal said was one of her best friends.  He wanted some background info on this girl who was slowly stealing his heart.  She was nowhere to be found -- and he wondered if she had gone to seek out the guy named Dom that had been mentioned earlier.  A crush of Shal's, by the sound of it. Craig frowned thoughtfully.  Had he interrupted something?
His speculative thoughts were interrupted by a shove to his shoulder from behind.  Craig turned, both arms at his sides, hands still in his pockets.  He came face-to-face with a muscular, fishnet-clad chest with a spider tattoo on the right pec.  Craig looked up at the guy's face.
His classically handsome features were contorted into a glaring sneer, one side of his upper lip pulled up like it had a fishhook in it.
"You Craig?" the guy, who had to have been at least six feet tall, asked in a deep, gravelly voice.
"I take it you're Dom then?" Craig replied with a smile as he offered his hand to shake.
Not surprisingly, 'Dom' didn't take it.  His sneer turned to a look of disgust.
"Who, that sonnuva bitch?" he growled.  "I'm Shal's boyfriend, Xander."
Craig's heart sank. The thought had never even occurred to him that Shal could have had a boyfriend already.  But why not? The girl seemed to have a way with the opposite sex.
"Dude, sorry about that, she never said anything about a boyfr --" The bell cut off Craig's explanation.  He hadn't been so much shaken by the big brute as he was the information he had just learned.
"Yea, alright, whatever," Xander said as he turned to lumber off to class.
An arm snaked its way around his neck from behind, and the familiar scent of vanilla wafted from the body that hugged him.
"I see you've met Xander," Shal cooed sarcastically.
Craig turned in her embrace and removed her arm.  "Boyfriend, Shal?" He asked, hurt.
Her eyes hardened to sparking sapphires.  "He told you we're going steady?! That rotten shitlick!" She shrieked.
Now Craig was genuinely confused.
"We went out last year, our junior year," she began explaining hurriedly as they gathered their things and started heading to next period.  "I broke it off, and he got mondo-pissed.  He doesn't want it to end, so he keeps telling everyone we're still together. Everybody knows it's over, which makes the whole situation kind of funny."
"He got really pissed when I asked if he was Dom," Craig observed.
Shal let out a delighted yelp of laughter.  "He would.  Dom's the whole reason I broke up with him."  She paused at the door to their next class, and instead pulled him into a near-deserted hallway a few lockers down.
"What...?" he asked, perplexed.
"And now that you're here, I have a reason to drop Dom," she said seductively as she gently stroked his lip ring.  She felt a shiver run down the length of his spine.
"Now, are you one of those girls that go through guys like Kleenex?" he asked, amused.
"But see, you're, like, a whole box, maybe two," she whispered before their lips met. Not wasting any time, she flicked his lip with her tongue and he eagerly invited her in.  He was practiced, and she liked his taste.  He must have liked hers too, because she had a tough time getting him to let her go to enter class.

~Chapter 3~
"Y'know," Stephany said to Shalimar as she swung a leg over the small wall that encircled the lower patio, straddling it. "Halloween is only two weeks away, and Lauren's party is next week."
Shal dug into a pocket of the baggy , multiplely zippered pants she wore that day to produce a few wadded up bills, then shoved them at Chance, who was animatedly talking to another regular at their group. "Buy me a burrito, will you? Combo, no sauce. Thankya much. Yea, so what?" she asked, turning back to Stephany.
"So..." the tall strawberry-blonde jerked her head towards Craig, who was buying himself his typical mini pizza at the food cart.  "Have you invited him?"
Shal snorted.  "What, to the party? I'm not even sure I want to go myself."
Lauren, a rather short chick of large build, was sort of known to be a slut when it came to the guys who hung around the lower patio.  She had even 'stolen' a guy from Shal, and seemed to have loved every minute of it.
"Billy's going, ya know," Stephany prompted, producing a sandwich from her backpack. It was widely known that she didn't see the point in wasting money on food if you could just bring some yourself.
"And your point?" Billy was in Lauren's clique, and was the boyfriend of Tricia, Lauren's best friend.  Shal could never understand why he chose to hang out with them though.  He was a cool guy, and he roleplayed on the 'net, like Shal herself did.
"I hear he and Tricia are in one of their rockier points," Stephany hinted.  People were always telling Shal that she should go out with Billy.  It's not like she hadn't considered it, but she wasn't too keen on making another enemy in the same clique.
"Wonderful for them.  Besides, I was thinking I could take Craig somewhere else. Away from... other people."  Shalimar was staring dreamily at him, but not quite seeing him.
"Gonna give it all to him, then? And you only met a month ago... tsk, tsk, tsk," Stephany chastened.
"Oh please, like you wouldn‘t hesitate with Chance," Shal countered.  Stephany was completely in love with him, but as far as they knew, Chance had no idea.
Stephany didn't reply, but pretended to concentrate on what was in her sandwich.
"Heya, Cupcake," Craig said as he came to perch on the wall beside Shalimar, planting a smacking kiss on her cheek.
"Heya, Sweet Cheeks," she replied, playfully pinching his butt.
Before Shal could stop her, Stephany brought up their Halloween plans. "Lauren's having a party next week. You going?"
"Party at Lauren's, huh," he asked Shal dryly in reply.
She glared as Stephany, who smiled sweetly and went back to her sandwich.  "Yea, on Saturday night."
"Sounds fun, but you don't seem all too thrilled about it," he pointed out.
"I'm not. I wasn't planning on going. There's a new club opening downtown that night, called the Vampyra.  I was hoping you'd join me.  I know the owner's daughter.  Got myself and some others on the VIP list."
Craig frowned thoughtfully and began playing with his lip ring, which he always did when he was bored or thinking, then nodded. "Sure, I’ll go.  Sounds more fun than the party."
"Um, hello, best friend here.  How come you didn't invite me?" Stephany asked, a testy edge to her voice.
Shal shrugged and replied, "Sorry Snuffy, but you spoiled it. I was going to surprise you.  You know, blindfold ya and drag you down there, only to reveal our location upon arriving."
Stephany chucked her sandwich at Chance, who was running around in circles squealing about going to the club too.
“Shut up, shitlick!” she yelled at him.
"But I wanna goooo," he said in his high, whiny voice.
Shalimar shrugged and put her arms around Craig and Stephany, pulling them close. "I shoulda kept my mouth shut. It was going to be a big surprise for you all, but since you already know…" She shrugged and shook her head.
Chance started jumping around, and finally headed off towards the food cart to get Shal her burrito.
"So, where is this club?" Craig asked as he took a bite from a slice of his mini pizza.
"Downtown, by the pier.  I think it's on Main Street."  Downtown was always the place to be in their smallish-yet-way-too-overly-populated city of Huntington Beach.  True to its name, the city was on the coast and was notorious for its surf.
"What's it called? Vampyra? That's a tad spooky, isn't it?" Stephany asked, but sounded far from nervous.  She, like most of their group, was into the 'dark and mythical' -- vampires, werewolves, and other stuff like dragons and unicorns and fairies.  Shalimar had even gotten Stephany into drawing them.
"Yup.  The manager and some employees are rumored to be vampires.  The rest of the help are said to be weres," Shal explained in an eerie voice as she took her burrito and change from the always-hyper Chance.
"Sounds like my kinda place," Craig said, trying to imagine it.
"Why do you think I invited you, my dear?" Shal replied, gently biting his neck.
“Who else is going?” Stephany asked, pulling a bag of Chee-tos from her backpack.
“Umm, Craig, you can bring Adrian, and… Shmallow of course.  She’d kill me if I didn’t invite her,” Shal said with a mock-shudder.
“I see,” Stephany said as she stuffed a handful of Chee-tos in her mouth.
The bell suddenly announced the end of lunch, and they all gathered their bags for their fifth-period classes.  Shal would join her friend Rissa to go to French 3, and Craig would go with Stephany and Chance to Foods.  Billy was in Shal's French class, too, but he sat on the other side of the room.
“Hey, Shal,” Craig whispered as he caught her arm. “C’mere.”
“Hmm? What?” she asked playfully, ready to steal a pick-me-up kiss before class.
Craig shook his head and instead reached into his coat pocket, then produced a small, plush velvet box.  Shal gasped.
“For you, my dear, on our month-and-a-half-a-versary,” he said softly and he slid the sterling silver and garnet ring on her finger.  All Shalimar could do was stare at it, speechless.
“Gotta get to class, babe,” Craig said, then planted a kiss on her cheek and hustled off.
Snuffy came up beside her and watched Craig hustle off.
"What was that about?"
Shal, still admiring the ring, tapped her arm.
"This.  He gave me this."
"Hmm? Ohh!"  Stephany grabbed Shal's hand and held it up close to her face, inspecting the ring as if she were a jewelry appraiser.  "Very lovely garnet, with two exquisitely tiny diamonds on either side.  Very pretty," she said.  Smiling, she gave Shal's hand a final pat and a squeeze.  "See ya tomorrow then."
"Right, 'bye!"  Shalimar, in somewhat of a daze, hoisted her bag onto her shoulder and went down to French.
Stephany watched her go.  Shal had no clue.  She pulled the ring, easily slipped off the smitten girl's finger, out of her pocket and smiled wickedly.  Easy as pie, just as he said it would be.
"Snuffy?"
Craig's tentative voice came as he peeked around the corner of the main building.
"I got it."  She jogged to him and handed over the ring.  "She had no idea, I think."
He sighed, then linked his arm in hers.  "Good."
They headed off to the parking lot to ditch the last class of the day.

French was pretty boring, as usual.  Shal spent her class time drawing in her notebook and passing notes with Rissa, and even talked to David, her partner, a little.  He was an arrogant, super-annoying and super-short guy, but he seemed to be warming up to her.  If she'd ever tried to punch his arm before he'd shy away and look at her like she was diseased, then say something along the lines of "What the hell!? Don't touch me!"  Today, however, she did punch his arm after a particular comment, and he grabbed his elbow and leaned over the other way laughing.
Males, Shalimar thought, then snorted.
She glanced back at the clock, then remembered this one was way off, and checked her watch.  “Twenty to go,” she breathed, then stretched out her hand to admire the garnet ring Craig had given her for their anniversary, then gave a little gasp.
The ring wasn’t on her finger.

Shalimar hurriedly shoved all her books into her bag and bolted out the door as soon as the bell sounded, then made her way up to the lower patio, watching the ground the whole way.
How could I lose the ring?  She snorted.  Well, apparently it wasn't too hard.  She had managed to quite nicely.
After throwing her bag down in the corner that the little walls created, Shalimar proceeded to scan the area, faster than she probably should have.  She was bent over one of the walls, digging through a bush that was in the garden area on the other side, when she heard someone approaching.
"Um, hey Shmelly..." Stephany's tentative and obviously curious voice said.
"Hey Snuffy," Shal replied, pushing herself up.
"What...?"
Shal pulled her close and looked around, then held up her hand.  Her hand with her bare ring finger.
Stephany raised an eyebrow and tilted her head.  "Yes, Shmelly, we all know how much skinnier your wrists are than everybody else's.  You don't have to go bragging about your high metabolism."
"No, look!" Shal hissed in reply. "Is there anything on my finger??"
Confused, Stephany inspected Shalimar's offered hand once more. "No," she said slowly, and somewhat sheepishly.  Shal experienced fleeting thoughts of curiosity, but ignored them.
"Exactly!" She replied instead with exasperation, yanking back her forearm. "The ring, Snuffy! It's gone!"
"You lost it!?" Stephany shrieked, then let out a bark of laughter.  "Dude, nice going. What d'you think he'll do?"
"I don't know," Shal groaned, then shoved Stephany over to the other wall. "But you're going to help me look for it."
"You forget I have a lesson in half an hour," she scolded with a waggling finger.  Stephany took ice-skating lessons, but since Shal had never been to one, she didn't know how skilled, or not, Stephany was.
"That gives you half an hour to help me look," Shal grumbled as she hopped over the wall to better look around in the garden area.
“I wouldn’t lose a ring if Chance gave one to me,” Stephany sniffed.
Shalimar growled, glaring at Stephany.  “Just… please help me look, Snuffy.”
“Sure, sure…” she replied, and continued looking with a tight grin.  She knew they weren’t going to find the ring here, but didn’t offer the information to Shal.

~Chapter 4~
Shalimar’s eyes were wide open as she lay in her bed with her headphones on.  They hadn’t found the ring.  She whimpered and turned up the volume to No Doubt, one of her favorite music groups.  She’d seen them live in concert with Garbage and the Distillers, two other popular rock groups.  In fact, she was wearing the spaghetti-strap top she'd bought as a souvenir.
Shalimar was thinking, like she had many times since coming home, how she would tell Craig.  Needless to say she was quite devastated, and had no idea how to break the news.  The ring had to have cost him a lot.
And now it was gone.
She rolled over on top of the covers and stared at her hand and bare finger, then pulled her knees up to her chin.
Would he still love her?
Shalimar groaned again and flopped back.  Would she tell him before or after the party at the club?
* * *
Mia grabbed a cloth from under the bar and wiped down the deep red faux marble countertop, for the millionth time.  She wanted everything to be perfect for the opening of her club, the Vampyra, which was still three nights away.  She tucked a stray lock of raven-black hair with dyed crimson tips behind her ear, which had multiple piercings.  Long, bloodred nails tapped the countertop as she imagined it.
Wild, spinning lights and multicolored strobes created a hellish if headache-inducing atmosphere, especially with the mirrored walls.  Every-other panel was a floor to ceiling mirror, and Mia suspected they wouldn’t stay whole for long.  The floor was untreated concrete, but red paint had been spattered all over it as if a bloody fight had occurred here some time ago.  Most of the décor was black, with some splashes of dark color here and there: red and purple curtains sheltering doorways that led to… more intimate rooms in the back, the red marble countertop, a few blue and purple couches with coordinating pillows.  No green could be found here.  The color was too… earthy, as Mia’s father Lucien would say.
Mia, born Miandra Wixom, and her father, Lucien Wixom, were vampires.  Most of the bartenders and other help were, too, but a few werewolves and even a witch could be found.  Normally, a witch would never be in such close proximity to vampires of her own free will.  Witches hunted vampires, and had done so for countless centuries.  Lucien was hesitant to hire Cara, but Mia had insisted she had given up her peoples’ customs and way of life.  She only knew a few spells, and they were mostly simple ones: starting a fire, creating light, purifying water, et cetera.  Witches protected the earth and its creatures, while vampires destroyed it.  That’s why you’d never find anything green in the Vampyra.
Mia’s clan elder, Elida Gandillon, had severely opposed the idea of opening the club.  She had said it was a bad idea to invite mortals into their ways of life, but Mia and Lucien insisted that they would be careful.  Elida swore she would never enter the place, which was fine by Mia.  The woman would probably destroy it, or at the very least cause a mass uproar by entering using magic; appearing with a flash or smoke or some other sort of bang.  Such entrances were rarely ever used, but Elida probably wouldn’t hesitate if it meant proving Lucien wrong.  Witches preferred stealth when it came to vampire hunting.
A knock interrupted Mia’s thoughts.
“Mia, hey, mind if I ask you a question?” asked a cool, nonchalant female voice.
“You already have,” Mia replied as she pushed herself up from the bar.  She gave it a last, almost affectionate rub with the cloth before throwing it back under.
The young witch grinned and let the door slam behind her as she walked in, long white-blonde hair streaming behind her.
“In that case, I have another.”
“Go ahead, Cara."
The witch came around the bar to where Mia was and looked underneath for a drink.  She pulled out an unlabeled bottle that contained a dark purplish liquid and swirled the contents, examining them thoughtfully.
"I was just wondering if Lucien was going to allow that new girl--what's her name? Sherrie?--to work opening night.  She seems a little too high-strung to handle the atmosphere."  Cara took a swig from the bottle.
Mia, leaning on her left arm, shook her head.  "He agrees with you.  She needs more time to adapt with human customs before being allowed to intermingle with mortals, though she insists she's ready."
The blonde girl nodded.  She was about to take another swig when suddenly the bottle fell from her hand and shattered on the concrete floor, its deep violet contents spilling everywhere.  She grimaced and took a step back, holding her ribs.
Mia stepped forward. "My God, Cara?"
She seemed to be gasping for air.  A horrendous noise came from her throat and she collapsed, clutching at her chest.
The vampress knelt beside the other girl, gently took hold of her mind, and soon was able to get her throat and chest to stop swelling and allow oxygen into her seared lungs.  Then she lulled the witch to sleep and arranged her into a more comfortable position on the floor.
A few sweaty wisps of hair had fallen across Cara's face.  Mia brushed them aside.
Hissing softly, Mia pivoted on the balls of her feet so that she now knelt facing the purple liquid Cara had drunk.  She ran two fingers through the stuff and sniffed it tentatively.
"Hemlock!" She cursed loudly in surprise and jumped up to her feet, hand held away from her face.   Hemlock was very powerful, especially against darklings.  It wouldn't kill a vampire, because they are, after all, for the most part immortal, but it could severely weaken and disorient them.  Cara was not a vampire.  She was lucky she would live.
Mia rubbed the potion between her middle finger and thumb thoughtfully, then vanished from Vampyra.  She reappeared a few feet from her father's side at their home, her arms at her sides.  The ability to transport oneself instantly from one place to another was one of the many abilities all vampires shared, and one Mia used often.
It was obvious her father wasn’t expecting her.  A bed sheet was wrapped around his waist and he was holding a bottle of bloodwine and two glasses.  He was just heading out of the kitchen, most likely to his bedroom where Mia didn’t doubt some wench was waiting for him.
Lucien, I need you at Vampyra.  Now, she hissed in his mind.  Telepathic communication was another ability.  Vampires could also read emotions and sense broad thoughts of other anthropomorphic creatures, and even intrude into other's minds and speak to them that way, but that only opened a door to direct communication.  Only if someone was intentionally forming and sending a thought could a vampire read it clearly.  But they couldn't necessarily read minds.
Her father dropped the glasses, which shattered on the tiled floor, but managed to keep hold of the wine.  Glittering fragments of glass flew in all directions.  He glared at her with such intense disgust she took a wary step back and hesitantly put up her mental shields.  Not only could vampires communicate through thoughts, but they could also send bolts of power and attack telepathically.
“Luc? What’s going on?” a throaty female voice called from down the hall.
“Nothing, Elidor, just a moment,” Lucien replied gruffly.
Mia hissed softly with disdain.  Elidor was Elida’s youngest fledgling, but also her favorite.  She was changed just a quarter-century ago.  Elidor had been a maid for a wealthy British family, and had been badly mistreated.  Elida had taken a liking to the girl and gave her her blood.  True, Elidor was not a proper vampire, but she was immortal and would not age as long as Elida remained alive.
Lucien shifted his grip on the bed sheet and threw a bolt of power at Mia with his mind.  The jab made her hiss louder, though it was largely ineffective since she had taken precautions earlier.
“What are you doing here?” he growled when his attack fell flat.
“It’s Cara.  She took a swig of poison at the bar.”
“Lucien?” came Elidor’s voice again, sounding annoyed this time.
“She’s unconscious now,” continued Mia as if she had not been interrupted, “but straight hemlock is sure to leave a few lasting effects.”  She watched his face carefully.  "Now, how do you suppose such a potent think like hemlock got into a bar run by the very creatures it is designed to eliminate?"
When he didn't say anything, she tilted her head very slightly and fixed him with a glare, then vanished from the kitchen.
Lucien cursed and slammed a fist down on the countertop of the island in the kitchen, sending a spider's web of cracks fanning out across it.

Mia wrung out the cloth she was wetting and brought herself to Cara’s side in one of the back rooms.  She snapped her fingers, bringing a chair to the bedside, and sat down.  A few locks of Cara’s naturally white-blonde hair had fallen across the girl’s eyes again; Mia moved them aside and blotted the cold rag on her forehead.  When Cara stirred, Mia produced a small red vial from her pant pocket and opened Cara’s mouth, then poured the black liquid it contained down her throat.  She coughed and sputtered, but Mia smiled at her as her eyes flew open.
“Poison!” Cara croaked and tried to sit up, but Mia took hold of her mind and gently laid her back down, lulling her back to sleep.
“Poison,” the vampress confirmed, then left the witch's bedside to seek Elida, whom she was sure had committed this treacherous act.
*                *                *
Shalimar’s week had so far sucked.  Stephany was away on vacation before Halloween and Alyssa was engrossed with some new boyfriend and Chance was no where to be found.  Alyssa, though one of Shalimar’s best friends, didn’t hang out with their group; Shal knew her through some classes, and the chick was her ride home everyday until Shal’s car was fixed.  Shalimar had no shoulder to cry on, no one to offer comfort.
She couldn’t  bear to face Craig.  She only half returned his sweet hugs and kisses, and she covered her unbearably bare hand and finger when around him.
“Shal, something’s definitely bothering you,” he finally said one day.  “Why won’t you tell me why you’re so upset?”
Her shoulders shook as her pent up sobs rippled loose, and she sat hard on the little wall.
“The ring,” Shal cried, and held up her hand.
Craig sank to his knees in front of her, his Hershey-chocolate eyes soft and apologetic.
“Oh Shal,” he sighed as he rested his forehead in her lap.
She couldn’t resist curling her fingers in his hair.
“W-what? Aren’t you mad?” Shal asked cautiously.
“Not at all--in fact, I’m just the opposite.  I’m so, so sorry I caused you so much grief.”
She regarded the top of his head with curious eyes, her head tilted slightly.
Without changing his position, Craig dug in his coat pocket and took out a plush, deep red velvet box.  Shalimar gasped.  For the second time.
“I got Snuffy to get it for me.”  He held out the box to Shal, but she didn’t take it.  She just stared at him, not knowing what to do.  “I got it engraved.  It says ‘Craig + Shal, ‘03’ on the inside now,” Craig said as he slowly rose to his feet.  Shal remained seated, still staring wide-eyed at him.
He opened the box and produced the ring, then took her limp hand and gently slipped the ring on her finger.
“I love you,” he said softly and kissed her cheek.
Tears ran anew down Shal’s face, and she threw her arms around his neck, holding tightly to him.  “I love you too,” she sobbed.
They sat like this , holding each other, enjoying the simple joy of companionable silence, for the better part of an hour.

~Chapter 5~
Cara awoke to darkness.  Deep violet curtains fluttered in the gentle breeze the open window allowed into the room, the light of the full moon spilling inside.  She breathed deeply the fresh midnight air, which somehow seemed to give her strength.
She threw her legs over the side of the king-sized bed and went to the window to look out over the beach.  The moonlight shone off the ocean as if a million diamonds were adrift in the endless mass of water, glittering across the vast expanse.
Cara saw movement on the sand: a dark, four-legged form that loped parallel to the water.  A dog? she wondered.
“That’s one damn big dog then, isn’t it?” a soft voice said with a chuckle, intruding on her thoughts.
Cara didn’t have to turn to see who it was.
“Corey out for a run?” she replied instead.
Mia was at Cara’s side in the blink of an eye, her arm around the slighter witch’s shoulders.  Cara rested her head on Mia’s shoulder.
They watched the joyful running of the werewolf as he challenged the waves, chasing them out when the tide receded and running back in when a new wave broke.  He must have sensed them watching or seen them, because he stopped short and howled a brief invitation before yowling a complaint as the freezing water lapped at his paws.
Mia brought them both out to the shoreline.  Cara tackled the large wolf and rubbed his belly. “Hey Corey,” she said as she affectionately scratched his ears.
His tongue lolled from his mouth as he rolled playfully in the wet sand.
Cara, Mia and Corey romped and rolled in the water and sand the rest of the night before collapsing from exhaustion back in their rooms just before dawn.
                               * * *
Shalimar danced in her room to music only she could hear.  Lately, she had become obsessed with all music light and airy.  Celtic in particular was her favorite.  She had popped ‘Pure Moods III’ into her portable CD player, and her headphones gave her access to a world of loving, beautiful music of pianos, flutes, and violins.  The current song sounded much like a sort of waltz, a repetition of three basic notes with an accompanying melody.
The music Shal now listened to and floated about her room to would be the very opposite of what she would be dancing to tonight: loud, raucous, head-banging punk that the club would play.  Craig was coming to pick her up in little more than an hour, and she hadn’t even begun to get ready.
The outfit she had chosen for the night consisted of a simple tight black midriff-baring t-shirt and baggy dark gray cargo pants with attached mock-suspenders, more for show and accessory than for use.  The only other accessories Shalimar would wear were a plaid tie and numerous studded and spiked bracelets.  And Craig’s ring, of course.  She never took it off.
After a hasty shower, Shalimar dressed and applied her bloodred lip gloss, just a touch of foundation to make her skin glow, and a dark metallic eye shadow was applied to her eyelids to make her eyes stand out.  Her nails were given a couple coats of deep red polish, and she sacrificed a few moments to toss her hair around and ruffle it a bit, giving it a more textured and wild look.
With a few minutes to spare before Craig should show up, Shalimar went to her closet.  The sliding mirrored doors opened with a shrill, squeaking protest, giving Shal goose bumps.  She reached in and grabbed the first thing her fingers brushed; an old, worn out shoebox.  She opened it and grabbed a fistful of cash, which she shoved into her pocket, then replaced the box.
“Shal, your friends are here!” her father yelled up the stairs.
“’Kay,” she replied, then went around her bed and to the door, where she slipped on some old gray skater-type shoes, then jogged down the stairs.
Craig was sitting on the couch in the living room, Alyssa between him and Adrian.  Stephany was sitting on Chance’s lap on the loveseat.  She had finally gotten up the courage to ask him out, despite how doing so could have affected their friendship.  Turns out he had liked her for as long as he could remember, and they’ve been happily together ever since.
All were wearing their usual ensembles of black with spikes, studs, and piercings.  They were all talking animatedly about what they thought the club would be like.  Shalimar’s parents were nowhere in sight.
Shal paused at the base of the stairs, which was behind the couch.  None of her friends had noticed her descent.  Shalimar looked down at the steps for something to throw, and found an old slipper of her mother’s and took aim.  The pink slipper hit Craig squarely in the back of the head, and Stephany and Alyssa erupted into giggles.  Adrian barked a laugh, and Chance squealed.  Shal skipped to the couch and Stephany offered her props, which she accepted enthusiastically.
“Let’s roll,” Shalimar prompted, and Craig answered by jumping to his feet and tackling Shal into the couch.  Alyssa shrieked and rolled away to avoid getting squashed.
“Shouldn’t you be saving your energy for the club?” Shal’s mother asked from the doorway to the kitchen, a grin on her face.
“You’re probably right, Laureli,” Stephany replied.  Shalimar’s parents didn’t think it necessary for her friends to call them "Mr." or "Mrs. Devereux," so they insisted on being called by their first names.
“Parking’ll be hell if you don’t get going,” Shal’s father pointed out.
Craig sighed and stood, pulling a giggling Shalimar to her feet with him.
“Okay. Bye Mom, love you guys,” she said as she made her way towards the door.
“You guys be careful, not too much drinking,” her father warned with a waggling finger.
“I’ll keep a close watch on them, Dave,” Craig assured him with a smile, putting a protective arm around Shal. “Later Laureli.”
“Bye-ee!” Stephany added cheerfully, hand in hand with Chance.  Adrian waved.
“Have fun, kids,” Laureli called after them.
Once outside, Craig ran around the back of his ’67 midnight blue Impala and graciously opened the passenger doors for the Shalimar and Alyssa, who curtsied and hopped in.  Chance would ride with Stephany in Adrian’s Hyundai.
“And we’re off!” Craig announced as he slid in and keyed the car to life, revving the engine in a final farewell to Shal’s parents before pulling out from the curb and heading down to Main Street to the grand opening of Vampyra.
                               * * *
Lucien Wixom grabbed a ring of keys that hung from the outstretched talon of a gargoyle that perched, watching, above the back cabinet.  It took a moment to find the key he wanted in the disorienting red lights as he walked to the front door, where there was a line of people that extended around the side of the block.  He knocked on the glass to get the bouncer’s attention, who nodded and stepped back.  Luc could hear the people screaming as he unlocked the door then latched it back.
“Welcome to your darkest nightmare!” Lucien bellowed to the crowd, who shrieked and cheered in reply.  Satisfied, he turned on a heel and made his way back to the bar, replaced the keys on the gargoyle’s talon, and threw back the curtain to the back rooms.
“Mia! Get everyone’s asses out here! We’re open!” he yelled, and his daughter and the rest of the help soon appeared.
“You all know your posts?” Mia asked as she fastened another spiked cuff around her wrist.  Her ensemble consisted of a black tank top, black cargoes, and combat boots.  The only makeup she wore was black liquid eyeliner, which heavily outlined her eyes.  Her raven-black hair hung simply over her shoulders and spilled down to her mid-back.
Everyone else had much the same uniform: tight black tanks, black cargoes, and combat boots.  Any other accessories were optional, but everyone had at least one piercing, tattoo, or spiked bracelet or collar to show off.
Cara’s white-blonde hair reflected the dizzying lights for an outrageous effect, so most couldn’t tell what her natural hair color was.  True, she felt somewhat out of place among the dark-haired vampires and werewolves, but at least she loved what she was doing.
Cara didn’t flinch as a hand snaked around her waist, followed by and arm that hugged her just below her breasts.  She was held tight against a rock-hard body, and she felt sharp teeth testing the flesh of her neck.
“Corey, what’re you doing? Get off,” she said, sarcastically exasperated, as she tried to push the tall werewolf away.  Corey, in his wolven form, was a sleek slate grey and could kick anyone’s ass.  He was sort of the undeclared ‘alpha’ among the other weres, and wouldn’t hesitate to take on any challengers.  He was large, even by werewolf standards, and thoroughly muscled.  His howl was deep and throaty, like velvet thunder.
However massive and powerful Corey was in his were form, he looked like any other Joe in his human form.  If anything, he was simply tall and of medium-to-skinny build.  He wasn‘t buff by any means, but it was almost as if he were made of pure muscle.  No doubt he was stronger than he looked.
Cara managed to disengage his arm from around her waist, but that didn’t stop him from planting a brotherly kiss on her cheek.
“Bleagh!” she exclaimed, giggling, and wiped her cheek.  She playfully elbowed him in the ribs, and was suddenly hit with a weird vibe.  Corey was staring at the door.  Cara followed his gaze, and saw a beautiful girl that looked as if she was a vampire herself.
In almost all black, with near white irises and hair as black as obsidian, she looked almost demonic.  Something in her aura was faintly… ‘dark’ as well.  One of her arms was slung around another girl’s shoulders, the other was around an attractive male’s waist.  Cara’s eyes lingered on the male; tall, wearing a mesh long-sleeved shirt, with spiked black hair with what appeared to be red tips.  There was a ring in his lip.
Corey must have been taking the girls in, because when Mia poked them and told them to start pouring drinks, Corey ran his fingers through his spiked black hair and grinned to himself.
“The girl with the tie is Shalimar.  I met her at a concert a few months back,” Mia informed them as she poured a Jack Daniels on the rocks for a guy who was leaning on the bar, grinning stupidly at her and Cara.
“You know her?” Corey asked, surprised.  Rarely did darklings-- vampires, witches, werewolves, et cetera-- bother to associate with humans.  They might go to public places once in awhile, just for something different to do, but they wouldn’t usually socialize.
Mia nodded.  “Something about her drew me to her.  She seems… darker than the rest.”
Cara watched as the girl and her friends lounged on a massive purple couch off to the side, chatting and laughing together.
“Something in her aura is different than those of her friends.  It’s almost as if she’s a darkling herself, but just doesn’t know it… or chooses to ignore it,” the young witch commented as she mixed a margarita.
One of the males, an athlete by the look of him, rose from the couch and maneuvered around the crowd to the bar.  He put both hands on the surface and drummed his fingers on the marble before making his order.
“Six Buds, please,” he said to Cara, who was closest to him.  He had to shout to be heard over the pounding rock music.
“Glass or bottle?” Cara yelled back, reaching under the bar and producing the requested six Buds, three in each hand, the necks held between her fingers.  She set them on the bar before him with a clang of glass on marble.
“Bottles are fine, thanks,” he hollered as he took the beers and slapped down some bills. Then he turned and danced his way back to his friends, handing each one a bottle.  The girl Mia had addressed as Shalimar raised her bottle, and there was a resounding clang as they toasted.
Corey frowned thoughtfully and commented to Mia, who returned from the back with an armful off new glasses, “That Shalimar girl really seems to be strong.  Certainly stronger than any other human I’ve come into contact with.  D’you think it would be possible to… approach her?”
“Suggesting she might be of darkling descent?” Cara asked incredulously. “Oh sure, go right ahead! I can’t wait to see what her reaction would be.”
“Not to mention Elida’s,” Mia grumbled.  To Corey, she said, “Better not.  We could try taking her to the back before she leaves, though.”
“Sure.  And say you just want to see how she's been,” Cara added, understanding.
Mia nodded.
“What about the others?” Corey asked.
The raven-haired vampress shrugged.  “Distract them.”

~Chapter 6~
Shalimar took no time adjusting to the psychotic atmosphere of the Vampyra, but the same could not be said for the others.  They had to pause just inside to look around and make sure the room wasn’t really spinning out from under them.
“Check out the bartenders,” Adrian shouted, elbowing Craig in the ribs.  “Vampires or not, they’re damn hot.”
“So is the one I’ve got here,” Craig replied with a smirk as he hugged Shalimar from behind.
“Let’s go hang out over there for a couple minutes,” she suggested with a nod towards an overstuffed purple couch.  They all made their way around the dancing mass of people to the lounge area and collapsed onto the couch.
A bit later, Adrian stood and went to the bar.
“Beers anyone?” he asked when he returned with six Buds.  Everyone accepted with a small cheer.
“Who’s the guy back there?” Alyssa asked when Adrian sat next to her, gesturing towards the bar with her beer.
“The bartender?  Dunno.  The blonde cutie was the one who I talked to.  At least, I think she’s blonde,” he replied with a shrug, addressing the psychotic lights.
“Who wants to dance?” Stephany suggested after everyone had taken a few swigs from their beers.
“Great idea,” Alyssa agreed, her gaze fixed to something across the room.  Adrian followed her gaze, and realized she was staring at a tall, skinny guy with tall spiked hair.  His chin was on the pointier side, and his long face was neither wide nor thin, but right in between.  He never frowned, but always kept a charming and thoroughly infectious smile on his rather thin lips.  The long-sleeved red and grey shirt he wore accented his big green eyes, which were topped by not-too-thin-and-not-too-bushy eyebrows.  The guy looked cool enough, Adrian decided, and could see why Alyssa would be attracted to him.
Not surprisingly, Alyssa was the first to venture out onto the dance floor.
Adrian chuckled. “Hey guys, Shmallow’s on the prowl,” he said as he elbowed Craig.
“Ooh, where’s the guy?” Stephany asked curiously, looking to where Alyssa disappeared in the crowd.  Chance smacked her arm.  Steph shrugged, then gave him a brief but hard hug in apology.
“He’s over by the bar somewhere,” Adrian replied with a grin, nodding in the direction. “He wasn’t dancing.”
“Well, we are!” exclaimed Shalimar as she pulled Craig out to the dance floor with her.  Stephany took Chance’s offered arm and followed, but Adrian remained by the couch.
At 6'1", Adrian  was tall, athletic, and not unattractive.  He wore his hair naturally black and thoroughly spiked, and kept a small, tidy goatee.  His lineup of piercings were a nose ring, a barbell in his tongue, and a ring in his left eyebrow.  His style differed from Craig's more punkish closet; Adrian preferred a more laid-back, skater-punk style.
It turns out Adrian had actually dated one of Shalimar's friends in Junior year, and once that fact was realized, they both swore the other was faintly remembered.
"Didn't you have meatloaf sideburns back then?" Shal had asked, squinting as if trying to clear the foggy memory.
"Yea," he replied with a groan, head tilted back.  "It was like a year-long bad hair day."
"You life is a bad hair day," Craig exclaimed, sending the others into throws of laughter and earning a punch on the arm from Adrian.
It hardly hurt now, but he found himself rubbing the sore spot anyway.
"Aww, not nervous now, are we?" came a sing-songy voice from the couch beside him.
"Of course not," he chuckled.  "This is hardly the sort of place that allows you to be shy."  Adrian turned to face his speaker, and was surprised to see the face of the bartender who'd given him the beers.
"Cara," she said by way of introduction, tossing her hair back from her face and offering her hand.
He took it and stood, bowing slightly to her.
"Adrian," he replied, then kissed her hand.  "Could I perhaps interest you in a tasteful session of crotch-rubbing?" he inquired innocently.  Cara looked appalled.  Adrian laughed, then patted her hand reassuringly.
"Dancing, ma'am, nothing more."  Then he reconsidered.  "Could freaking really be considered dancing though?" he wondered aloud.
"Whatever it is, it sounds fantastic," she said and rose to make her way towards the dance floor.
"You mean you've never danced before?" Adrian inquired incredulously as he followed her, sticking close.
She shrugged as she turned to face him on the floor.  "Does it matter?  I mean, you can teach me, can't you?"  She stepped back, figure-eighting her hips to the music.
It didn't seem to Adrian that she needed much teaching, and he said as much.  "Just let the music take you.  And let me lead."
He put his hands on her waist, just above her hips, and schooled her motions to match his own.  When she had it down he released her and they just danced, laughing when the other would somehow misstep.  They both had a blast.
               * * *
So far, opening night wasn't anything to scream about.  Mia thought so, anyway.  Apart from the occasional outlandish character or fight, it was pretty redundant: people requested drinks, she or Cara or Corey or one of the others would mix them.  The arrival of another, undistinguished darkling caused a slight stir among the employees, but he didn't cause any trouble so they left him alone.
About an hour and a half into the night, Cara whispered something to Corey, who nodded and shooed her away.  The young witch scooted out from behind the bar and disappeared into the throbbing, jumping throng.  Mia finished drying the glass she held then set it down none-too-gingerly on the bar and turned to him, brows drawn together and lips pursed.
"Break," he said simply with a shrug and handed a girl a beer from under the counter.
Mia frowned and propped her head up on a fist.
"Why would she want a break?  We've been busy, sure, but it hasn’t been enough to faze her," she commented with a scowl.
Corey shrugged again, then glanced out at the crowd.  He stopped reaching for an empty glass, a slow smile spreading across his face.  He glanced at Mia without turning, and nodded towards the dance floor.
"Apparently," he said smugly, "she wanted to meet up with him."  He chuckled then picked up the glass, tossed it behind his back and caught it with his other hand, then mixed another drink with other such flourishes.
Frowning again, Mia looked where Corey had indicated and had no trouble picking out Cara.  Her hair was a never-tiring, ever headache-inducing whirl of Picasso-esque flashes of color.  She was dancing thisclose to a tall, lean, attractive young man, who laughed and deftly caught her when she tripped, most likely over her own feet.
Mia experienced a twinge of anger and jealousy, her frown deepening and eyes narrowing.  Someone slapped the bar and called out for a drink, which she hastily produced.
Corey took notice of her sour mood.
"Chill, Mia.  You act like she's your fledgling or something," he reprimanded as he poured another drink.
She flashed him a look so cold and livid he had to take a step back, putting his hands up as sign of defeat.
Fledglings were notoriously defended by those they drank from.  A vampire was an extremely jealous sort of creature when it came to offspring, which was basically what fledglings were.  Even though they could indulge in sexual acts, vampire couldn't sexually reproduce; fledglings were the closest thing a vampire could have to children.  It was frowned upon that Cara was in the company of vampires to begin with.  To suggest Mia had bled for her was unthinkable.  At least, in Elida's eyes.
"Alright, alright, never mind.  Forget I said anything," he said, eyes lingering on her potent glare as he slid an extravagantly-mixed drink to its new holder.
Mia looked out onto the dance floor again, left hand on the cold marble bar-top, body facing towards Corey, who was already mixing another poison.  Neither Cara nor the male she had been dancing with could be found.  She scanned the rest of a throbbing, pulsing, thumping club and found the blonde witch leading the male to the curtained-off rooms in the back, arms linked.  Both were laughing.
Mia hissed and looked away, gouging small pieces of marble out of the bar-top with her nails, unsheathed to accommodate her anger.  She then blinked out, much to the surprise of the mortals awaiting drinks.
But not before a single bloodred tear could land in one of the hollows she'd created, filling the cavity as a tear c