The Den of Shadows Quartet - Amelia Atwater-Rhodes [13]
After making a quick check to make sure there is no blood on me from the previous night’s hunt, I leave my house. I walk, partly because I am not leaving Concord and thus not going far, but mostly because I have a craving to move.
Occasionally I visit cafés like Ambrosia, which cater to my kind. But more often I become a shadow of the human world. Human lives, which seem so complex to those who are living them, seem simple from the perspective of three hundred years.
The coffee shop has just opened when I slip through the door.
The girl who works there is human, of course. Her name is Alexis, and she has worked there for most of the summer.
“Morning, Elizabeth,” she greets me, and I smile in return. I often visit this place in the morning. Of course, I did not give Alexis my real name. I do not allow myself to grow close to humans. They have a tendency to notice that I never age.
I buy coffee, not because I want the caffeine or even like the taste, but because people will stare at someone who is sitting in a coffee shop without anything to drink.
A few minutes later the prework traffic begins. For about half an hour the shop bustles, and I sit in the corner silently and watch people.
Though I have worked to distance myself from human society, I enjoy watching humans as they go about their business.
The principal of the nearby school hurries in, already late for work, dressed in a somber suit that makes her look even more tired than she is. A minute later a middle-aged man opens the door, stopping in during his morning jog. Two women, sipping their coffee at one of the small tables, get into a quiet argument over an article one read in the newspaper. A teenage girl meets her boyfriend and then is horrified as her father walks into the coffee shop.
I smile silently, watching the various dramas, which will probably be forgotten by evening.
Business slows as the customers depart, many complaining about their destination.
Humans are often this way. They go about their lives, constantly working, complaining of boredom one minute and overwork the next. They pause only to observe the niceties of society, greeting each other with “Good morning” while their minds are somewhere else completely.
Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I had been born into this modern time. Sin and evil no longer seem as important as they did three hundred years ago. Would I have been as horrified at what I have become, I wonder, if I had not been raised in the church, with the ever-present threat of damnation?
The two women in the corner who have been arguing about politics now stand and depart together, laughing. I watch them with an ounce of jealousy, knowing their worries are far away and that despite everything they know, they are still innocent.
Innocence … I remember when the last of my innocence died.
CHAPTER 10
1701
ATHER LED ME from her house, and I saw no choice but to follow. The moonlight cleared my mind slightly, but my vision was still red around the edges, and my head was pounding.
I did not have specific memories of who I had been, but I knew what a town was, and what a house was. And everything I saw around me was somehow not right.
Ather’s home was at the fringe of a wood, set far back from the road. After a moment I realized what was bothering me about it: the house was painted black with white shutters, as was the one next door. I had an impression of inversion, like the black Masses I had been told of at which Devil-spawns spoke the Lord’s Prayer backward. It was the same, and so very wrong.
“Where are we?” I finally asked.
“This place does not exist,” Ather answered. I frowned, not understanding. She sighed, impatient with my ignorance. “This town is called Mayhem. It is as solid as the town you grew up in, but our kind owns it, and no one outside even knows it exists. Stop thinking about things you need not worry about, Risika. You need to feed.”
You need to feed. I shut my eyes for a moment, trying to blink away the burning sensation. I shook my head, but the pain refused