My name is Jade, and this journal has weekly dribble. How I live, work, and shop, whom I eat, and how I deal with sharing a world with humans, demons and various things in between. I've been dead for over 300 years, but frankly, being a vampire has never been harder.

 

3-10-05

Things you overhear while stalking. 

So I'm out the other night, just kickin' it on the streets before my shift started, when I stumble upon this couple. Lesbians in love. Or so I thought. I followed them for a few blocks. I know. After 300 years, you'd think I'd get over the thrill of being sneaky. Age doesn't equal maturity, trust me on this.  Anyway, they stopped their hand in hand stroll around Park Street station. That's when I realized there was trouble in paradise.  

The darker haired one of the two, we'll call her The Bitch started talking to the blonde, lovingly dubbed, The Victim.  It went kinda like this:

"I've kind of been seeing other people," said The Bitch. 

"Um," replied The Victim, confusion washing over her formerly-cheery face. 

The Bitch wandered in a circle, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her oversized denim jacket. "Well, I didn't want to tell you because I knew you'd over-react. Just because I met someone else doesn't mean we can't keep dating." 

"Um," replied The Victim, her already pale face getting paler even by the weak streetlight shining on the pair. 

Shining example of love? I'm thinking not. They went their separate ways, The Bitch walked off into the Commons, and The Victim stumbled into the train station. I debated for a second which to follow. I chose The Victim. 

No, I didn't turn her into one. I'm not that nasty. Get over it. 

I did keep an eye on her until she got home. That included watching her slump to the ground about a block from some brownstone and sob for a good twenty minutes. 

Then I went on a Hunt. 

I started back at Park Street station. The bennies of powerful senses, I picked up the scent of The Bitch within a few yards of the station. I trailed her through the Commons to a house near the Gardens. Well off, I must say. I scaled the back fire escape to the fifth floor. She was there. I could smell her, but she wasn't alone. Parents? Maybe.

No matter. It was time for me to get to work. I knew her scent and where she lived. That was enough. 

I haven't done anything yet. I did check on The Victim this morning on my way home. She was sleeping.  

So, anybody want to offer their opinion? Should I drain her dry? Maybe lure her out to a ghoul-fest? Tasty human flesh is always a hit. Or maybe I can wait. Could be a good reason for all this. Maybe I shouldn't butt in where I don't belong.

Yeah. Right.

TO BE CONTINUED

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