New York City Nights

She hadn’t been in the crowd when the historian had made his announcement but she had heard the rumors of it afterwards. It seemed that the First Bloodline wasn’t as dead as originally thought. That it still lived through one Gabriel Rodriguez.

Right now, he wasn’t any concern of hers. Rebecca sighed, tucking a strand of white blonde hair behind one ear. Three more hours and she could pack it in for the night. Working at a New York City bar paid shit but at least it put her in close contact with the underground night scene. She bought and traded on rumors. The news about Gabriel had been the most recent piece of gossip she’d gathered.

One of the men at the bar counter leered at her and offered her his drink. Or the remains of it. Rebecca wrinkled her nose in distaste. “I don’t drink, thanks.”

She had a low tolerance for alcohol anyway and less interest in poisoning herself. Rebecca turned away, taking the mug from the man and emptying the dregs into the sink. “You’ve had enough.”

He scowled but didn’t object, turning to one of the other men at the long counter. Rebecca breathed a sigh of relief, using his distraction to slip away from her spot. Moments later, she was in the bathroom, staring at her reflection in the mirror over the sink.

It looked back at her. Tired, a little bored. Mostly tired. It had been a long night. Rebecca sighed again, debating the wisdom of slipping away from her shift earlier than she should have. Her boss wouldn’t like it but what could he do about it in the end. Rebecca looked up at the fluorescent light and winced, shielding her eyes from the bulb. It might have been dim, flickering but she’d always been light sensitive. Courtesy of her father.

“Rebecca Jackson?”

Rebecca started, turning to see the young woman leaning against the door to the washroom. Too still, too fair skinned. Vampire. “Jordan. It’s Jordan, mosquito.”

“Mosquito?” The newcomer’s expression darkened. “Bit rich coming from a girl who carries the blood of the First ‘line. I can smell it on you, underneath that taint.”

“That taint?” Rebecca bristled. “I’m not a vampire, never will be. Why did you follow me in here?”

She crossed her arms, leaning against the sink behind her. “More than that, I’m not a threat to that potential king’s rule. Not only am I baseborn, I’m a shapeshifter. I think that excludes me from the line of damned succession.”

The other woman snorted, rolling her eyes. “Sure. You know as well as I do that there’s no such thing as shapeshifters. My sire said that the sort were wiped out centuries ago. Even if in theory they weren’t, how could they possibly breed with the First Bloodline?”

That stung. Rebecca snarled softly, not liking the arrogance in the girl’s tone. She couldn’t have been dead for very long or she wouldn’t have been so self-assured. “Go back to your master, girl. Ask him about those shapeshifters you say are gone.”

She pushed past the vampire, not caring for dealing with anyone else tonight.

Fabius found her an hour or two later, some time before dawn’s light touched the steel and glass of her city.

Rebecca lifted her sunglasses half an inch to look at the archivist. Like her he was wearing dark glasses but that was all she could say about him. Rather than her black leather jacket and jeans, he was wearing a suit. Charcoal gray, white shirt and an all too familiar blood red tie. “What the hell do you want?”

Others might be intimidated by his age – she wasn’t. Her kind could and often did live for centuries.

Fabius’s mouth thinned slightly. “I came to see how you felt about this new lord. Or the prospect, rather.”

“Irritated.”

“Indeed?” He raised one eyebrow, regarding her skeptically.

“It’s sarcasm, learn to read it,” Rebecca took a nibble of her mozzarella stick and wrinkled her nose in distaste. “I don’t care about this Gabriella something or other. I’m a shapeshifter, not a lady of the night. I’m- It’s… my father. I can’t help wondering what Soren would think of the newest king. He hasn’t been turned yet, has he?”

“Not yet, but he will be,” Fabius’s voice was grim. “That can’t be the only thing you’re worried about.”

Rebecca met the vampire’s eyes. “Not entirely, no. You’re ancient. You know- you lived through the centuries where my kind were hunted by vampires. What if he brings that back? Most of the kings have been monsters. They give into their blood thirst too easily. My father was the only lord that I know of to fight that instinct. He refused to give into that part of him.“

Rebecca met the vampire’s eyes. “Not entirely, no. You’re ancient. You know- you lived through the centuries where my kind were hunted by vampires. What if he brings that back? Most of the kings have been monsters. They gave into their blood thirst too easily. My father was the only lord that I know of to fight that instinct. He refused to give into that part of himself.”

She’d only met her father once or twice before his death and now she couldn’t help thinking that if he’d been born now and in this time, he would have been happier in jeans and a leather jacket. He hadn’t even liked velvet and silk, preferring much plainer garments in linen and wool. “If he could have been a part of the First Bloodline and retained his mortal appearance, I think he would have preferred that.”

Rebecca sighed, shoving the remains of her ‘meal’ at Fabius. He looked down at the last remaining ketchup coated mozzarella stick in distaste before glancing back at her. “I’m well aware of that, milady. I served him once, as I served Ivan Mikhailevich.”

“Not here,” She shook her head, glancing around her reflexively. One never really knew who could be listening in on the conversation. And the First Bloodline was supposed to be extinct.

They lapsed into silence for a few minutes while Rebecca drew an aimless pattern in a spot of ketchup. There didn’t seem much else she could ask or even say now. She sighed, tangling a strand of pale hair around one finger before releasing it. “You asked me what I was worried about. The truth is, I don’t know where I belong. I’m a shapeshifter, yet I’m still a child of the First Bloodline.”

Fabius only shrugged. “That isn’t a question I can answer for you.”

She hadn’t expected him to. Rebecca grimaced, standing. “Fine, I’ll make my own way. I have for nearly four centuries. I left a cache of clothing behind a dumpster. Could you drop that off by my apartment building? It’s late and unlike you, I still need sleep.”
The vampire nodded briefly, inclining his head. “As you wish, mi- Rebecca.”

Informality galled him, Rebecca hid a smile behind her hand before walking out of the diner. Despite the way the night had gone; poorly, making Fabius resort to something he was uncomfortable with, brought a small bit of pleasure for her.