Just as the sun had gone down, Dennis was wide awake. The stench of burned wood still burned his nostrils and he winced. But still, it was far better than just going to bed a week earlier and discovering a flaming roof caved in on their lair.
It was sheer luck that their rooms were a sort of labyrinth that ran below the houses, but having to escape to the primitive and cramped sewers below the town had not been his idea of a pleasant day.
But as the sun had just set, Dennis took a walk around the decimated village before heading out to feed. There were times he regretted the fact that they were not allowed to feed on the town's residents, but even Dennis wasn't stupid enough to give up the guaranteed roof over his head.
Leaning up against a fence, taking a drag off his cigarette, he could hear a heartbeat getting closer. It was racing a little faster than normal, and Dennis had to hold back the urge to feed. When they came into closer view, he smirked wickedly, fangs glistening in the reflection of a soft light, as a familiar dark head of hair came into view.
"Well, well, well, it seems your face is still as sour as ever, Orla dear." They had been in the same class, if but different houses at school, and Dennis was not truly surprised to see her in town. She always thought herself above everyone else. Pity he couldn't bite her - it really was a very pretty neck she had, although he suspected that her blood would taste bad anyway. Bitter people often tasted that way as well.