Cassandra Blair’s Birthday

At least one hundred and fifty humans attended Cassandra Blair’s birthday party, one hundred and fifty champagne infused blood bags for Cassandra’s one hundred and fiftieth birthday party. Bass heavy music mimicked their heartbeats. A three tiered cake stood for each digit of her age. And yet, the humans remained oblivious.

Threading through the crowd, I claimed my human, a shy beauty hiding behind her silky hair. Females taste sweeter, more fruit like. Males settle in the stomach and head, the vampire equivalent to a hangover.

The girl slouched as I approached, but my hand found the small of her back, forcing her to straighten. She tipped back the rest of her champagne. “Some party.”

My smiled remained thin. “It’s the party of the year.”

“Have you ever met Cassandra Blair?”

“No. Almost no one hear has.” I offered the girl more champagne.

“I’ve met her.”

The glass cut into my hand, showering my maroon dress with champagne. “What’s your name?”

The girl took the glass and handed it to a waiter. “You didn’t care before.” The music shifted from club to classical. “Care to dance?”

“Girls aren’t my preference.”

“Don’t girls taste sweeter?”

I tried to flag a friend, but the party-goers froze. The girl gave me a twisted smile. “Witch trumps vampire every time.”

“What do you want?”

“Every year, Cassandra Blair invites me to her birthday party. And every year, she gives me free reign to target whoever I like. The only reason vampires live is because witches allow them to. Cassandra has only made it this long because she offers up other, notorious vampires. Haven’t you ever wondered why you were invited, Monica Demora?”

“Because I’m delightful company?”

“Because you’re a monster. You have no friends. Your family abandoned you. What would Cassandra Blair want with you?”

I don’t know.

The girl’s wrists slit open, and she raised them to my lips. “You know who I am yet?”

My throat ached to feel the warmth of her blood. “You’re the girl from the legend with blood poisonous to vampires.”

Her lips brushed my ear as her blood trickled into my mouth. “Maybe my blood heals vampirism.”

I was turned so young that I don’t remember being human, but transforming takes something from you. Whether I die or whether I become a human, I won’t be the same.       

Fiction

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *