The Hunter and the Prey

Ertonport, One Year Before

Meguitte had always loved the ocean. Standing on the balcony of her beachside apartment home overlooking the water as the sun set on the horizon, listening to the hush of the waves as they lapped at the sand always soothed her spirit, ever since those days on the water with Thaelen, Sigrid, Isolte and Caerin, so very, very long before.

It had been the first time since the death of her mother that anyone had treated her, had touched her, with care and respect, and she had thought that if she had to die, and despite the humiliating method of her death, there would be some dignity to it because she would die as clean as she could be, with her hair brushed and braided, warm, rocked by the ocean, and with someone holding her hand who would mourn her passing.

She had not died, however, but had been offered a new way of life, and she was still grateful for it, although she knew that amongst vampires, she was considered to be as frail, fragile and disadvantaged as a human. To her, having magic made up for what she lacked in strength and speed - more than. She had continued to study, to learn, throughout her long vampire life.

Sometimes when Thaelen came by to check on her, they would sit and drink wine, and debate why his line of vampires had lived so very, very long compared to most vampire lines. She rather thought that it was that each of them had a purpose outside of themselves that kept them motivated each day to rise and live again, to work out the changes in the human world and adapt to them, rather than to retreat and slowly lose touch with the world until madness crept in, like most vampires tended to do, overwhelmed by the eternity that stretched before them and the world that seemed to move so fast away from all that they knew.

Thaelen’s devotion to people kept him wandering from place to place, visiting all the strays that he had collected over his long life and ensuring that they were all well and cared for. Sigrid had her mission in Havermouth, as dubious as Thaelen was about it. And Meguitte? Well, Meguitte had her magic.

She had secret, secure places filled with a treasure-trove of arcane items, spell books, wands, crystals, athames, chalices, cauldrons, and esoteric items that she had collected throughout her life – from dragon scale to mermaid tears, and every day sought out more. More secrets, more knowledge, and the security that having them gave her, even if she did not possess the power to use them.

She was what the humans called a hoarder, and she knew it. One thing she had learned from the dragon, Asher, was not to keep her hoard where she slept, and therefore her apartment was minimalistic, containing nothing that she could not leave behind if she needed to – and she frequently needed to as it was never wise to remain in one place for too long as a vampire. She moved from residence from residence, masquerading as her own daughter or granddaughter with each move, never staying anywhere for longer than ten years.

As the sun slipped beyond the horizon and night crept in over the water and the city in which she lived, she slicked on lipstick, fixed her hair, and grabbed a long, black coat. She enjoyed the way that human women of the modern era possessed the ability to express themselves through their clothing and experimented constantly with their fashions. For the past decade, she had been working her way through the various styles of gothic clothing, and currently opted for corp goth because it was simpler and more androgynous in style.

She kept her chin down and the hood of her coat up as she left the apartment. Whilst there was an elevator, she took the stairs, preferring the exercise. Although the weather was mild, it had rained recently and the pavement was a maze of puddles reflecting the bright streetlights creating a pleasant, peaceful atmosphere for her walk, usually clear of other pedestrians.

Meguitte liked to walk, and disliked the cars, trains, and busses of the city. She only used transportation when she needed to travel to a new city and picked where she bought for the proximity to the beach and to what she needed in order to survive – the nightclub district for food, and a shopping district for clothing.

This location had the added benefit of being close to a legitimate arcane artifacts shop, owned by a witch, and Meguitte made almost daily visits in order to keep an eye on their stock, but also for the company. Willow knew what Meguitte was with the canniness of witches, but was not threatened, and treated Meguitte as a fellow witch, rather than as a vampire.

As was the method of most genuine witches, Willow hid her business openly as a modern human Wicca practitioner. It never ceased to amaze Meguitte that the humans had gone from persecuting witches in the name of religion, to accepting them as a quirky commercial business that often blended in with alternative and complementary forms of healthcare such as yoga and naturopathy.

Willows shop was located in a strip of small businesses, between a pole-dance studio and a little café selling vegan foods, and her storefront combined soy-candles, incense, oils, with little pots of all-natural skin care and household products, as well as the more commercial aspects of witch-craft such as crystals, the silver and black leather jewellery favored by the goth scene, and little pouches and jars that purportedly contained love, wealth and good fortune spells.

However, to those who knew better, Willow was also a source of true magic spells and the location of arcane objects and she was always busy, therefore Meguitte was not surprised when she entered the shop to the sound of laughter and saw a tall, dark haired man dressed in gothic black leaning on the counter whilst Willow flirted up at him.

Meguitte began to browse the commercial shelves without interest, giving Willow time to finish her flirtation without interruption, however her attention was drawn over and over to the man as if he were a magnet and she drifted closer despite her intentions to give them space and time.

Tall, long legged, broad shouldered and leanly muscled, he made a very appealing sight from behind. His hair was overgrown, falling heavily onto his brow and curling slightly around his neck beneath his ear as if marking precisely where her teeth should go. She could brush those stray locks of hair away with her fingertips and press a kiss against his pulse point as they made love, she thought, and then recoiled in surprise at the stray thought.

Eleven hundred years, and she had taken no lover, male or female – why would such a thought cross her mind so unexpectedly? She started to edge backwards towards the door, but Willow had spotted her and beamed as she gestured her forward.

“Meg, come and meet Logan Wren. Meg might be interested in this,” Willow said. “You should come and have a look, Meg. This is right up your alley.”

Meguitte had no other choice as the man turned and flashed a white-toothed grin at her. His face was not classically handsome, the bones too sharp, but there was something dynamic about him that pulled her towards him as if he were the moon to her tide. “Hi Meg,” he drawled, and she felt his voice like a sensation, rolling through her.

“Hi,” she said, disconcerted by her very physical response to him.

“Logan’s a hunter of artifacts,” Willow continued gently pushing a cloth wrapped bundle over to Meguitte. “And brought this in to see if anyone would be interested in it. It’s a bit…” She pulled a face. “Gross, even for me.”

Meguitte unwrapped the bundle. Teeth. The canine and pre-molars longer than human, but not as long as a vampire’s. They had been extracted as the roots were intact but were clean so she did not think the man had hunted down a werewolf and pulled his or her teeth.

“Werewolf. Where did you get these?” She looked up at him, her hand resting over the bundle as a cage. She couldn’t let anyone else have them she decided, whoever and however they had been removed, someone had suffered during the extraction, and no one should use that suffering. She would pay whatever the man wanted.

“I network,” Logan shrugged. “One of my other contacts had them and wanted to move them. They’re unusual enough that I was sure that I could find a buyer.”

“How were they removed from the werewolf?” Meguitte asked. She didn’t want to know, but she needed to if she was to have any hope of sleeping that night, she decided.

“They were taken from a corpse brought to a mortuary. The coroner, my contact, is a witch, and removed these teeth in order to prevent the werewolf’s nature from being identified by the human police investigating the suspicious death,” Logan explained.

Meguitte was both saddened for the werewolf who had died away from his or her people, but was relieved that the teeth had not been taken from someone living. “What do you want for them?”

“A hundred a tooth?” He suggested. “Cash, of course.”

“Of course,” she took her money clip from where it was clipped within her corset lining and removed four one-hundred-dollar bills.

“Lucky money,” he smiled, and she frowned at him puzzled by the comment before realizing that he was flirting with her and felt her cheeks heat as her heartbeat picked up. His lips were thin but perfectly formed and she wondered what they would feel like against hers. She had never been kissed by a lover, but when she saw it on the movies it looked… nice.

She pulled her eyes off of his mouth and busied herself wrapping the cloth back around the teeth, before putting them into her coat pocket. “I should go,” she said to Willow.

“Are you sure?” Willow was puzzled. “We were talking about opening a bottle of wine in the back.”

“No,” Meguitte didn’t know what was happening to her, and wasn’t sure that she trusted herself to stay around the man. “I need to go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When she was out of the shop and on the pavement, she took in a gasping breath and pressed the heel of her hand to her heart before hurrying away down the street towards the nightclub vicinity. She was just hungry, she told herself. She’d find something to eat, and then take the teeth to her nearest hoard. Once they were safety stored away, she would return home and have a glass of wine and watch the sunrise from her balcony whilst reading the latest romance book about men written according to how women wished that they would be.

She paid the cover charge to get in at her favorite night club. There was something primal about nightclubs, the beat pounding and lights flashing, the bodies pressed closely together, and the air filled with sweat and pheromones. It was the perfect hunting ground for a vampire. The young men and women were looking for sex, and only too willing to get up close and personal during the dancing. It was so easy to wrap her arms tightly around her dance partner whilst he ground his c-ck against her in time with the music, palming her arse in his hands, and sink her teeth into his throat.

Most mistook it for a kiss or hickey, many were too drunk to even notice. She never took much. She fed every day, small, frequent meals, never from the same person twice. And once she’d taken just enough, she’d seal the wound and mime that she needed to go to the bathroom before melting away into the crowd.

Within twenty minutes, she was fed and back out onto the road. Fast food, she smirked as she shrugged back into her coat and hurried down the street.

“Meg.” His voice pulled her to a sudden stop. She took a deep breath before turning slowly to face him. Logan walked slowly towards her with a smile on his face. “It must be fate,” he said as he reached her, and reached out to tuck a lock of her hair back behind her ear. “We meet again.”