She’d skipped “breakfast” which was never good for Mo because she became more and more desperate as the night went on. Finally at midnight she’d decided she’d had it. Walking through a neighborhood by the bar she’d been posted up at she searched for stray animals. Anything would work but it seemed on a cold night like tonight most people were keeping their animals indoors.
Finally she spotted a cat, an orange tabby who looked worse for wear. No one would miss this little guy and she’d at least found her meal for the evening. She quickly grabbed the cat and snapped its neck, taking it with her to the alley behind the bar so that she wasn’t so out in the open. Little did she realize the trail of blood that was following her, she didn’t care. She was hungry.
Finally she found a spot when she heard a noise. She’d barely begun to drain the animal when her instincts kicked it. She quickly climbed the wall of the bar, trying to hide herself in the darkest crevices to remain unseen.
Tasha was drunk. Drunker than usual. She hadn’t had time to get super attached to Summer, but she had gone out on a limb to help the other woman, only for her to skip town, and that sucked. So, the hunter went to a bar. She had a rule about leaving before last call, so around midnight she hauled herself off of her stool and began her stumble-walk home.
That’s when she noticed the thin trail of blood on the ground, shiny in the orange glow. “Oh, come on,” Tasha muttered to herself. Then realized that whatever had caused the blood trail could probably hear her now. “If I find a dead body, I’m going to find you, whatever you are, and...do something violent.” She paused and waited, braceleted arms crossed, trying not to sway.
Ah shit, well at least it wasn’t a human body, and while whoever was yelling after her could very well be a hunter, she doubted seeing someone like Mo with a dead cat would alarm her. Strike that, it was still damning. “It’s not what you think.” She replied as she slowly came down the wall, dead cat in her hand, blood dripping from her lips and her hands up in surrender.
Upon closer inspection she noticed just how beautiful this alarmed drunk seemed to be. Full lips, long hair and smouldering brown eyes. She dropped the cat from her hands. “There’s a body but it’s not a human.” Part of her wanted to flirt but this wasn’t a scenario where that would be entirely appropriate.
Tasha’s expression changed from inebriated annoyance to horror at the sight of the poor, dead cat. “Oh, my god. Dude. There’s a butcher a few blocks from here who basically gives away pints of blood. Why are you torturing poor Whiskers?” The hunter leaned against the brick wall. What was the protocol here? She rubbed her temples slowly.
“I’m going out on a limb here. You’re a vampire, yes?”
“Not exactly a limb.” She muttered under breath and sighed. “You’d be correct.” She replied and began to search her purse for wet wipes, although it didn’t help that when she climbed the wall a good portion of the blood had spilled onto her blouse. It was going to take her forever to get that stain out if it was even possible at all.
She didn’t know about the butcher but somehow she doubted that they’d be open in the middle of the night. “Listen, I got desperate, the cat clearly has no home, I don’t see what the problem is.” Frustrating and beautiful, just like her ex except this one was not a vampire, at least so far as Mo could tell.
Finally she found the wet wipes and began slowly cleaning the blood of her face. “Wait, you’re not a hunter are you?” She’d be ready to walk the walls to escape her, though at the level of drunk she seemed to be, it wasn’t exactly like Mo would have to run fast.
Tasha rolled her eyes and sighed deeply, pushing off from the wall. She reached into her front hip pocket and pulled out a soft-pack of cigarettes and a neon pink lighter. She shook out a cigarette and placed it between her lips. “Yeah, an off-duty one. And hoping to stay that way for the night,” the hunter added pointedly, raising an eyebrow at the vampire before flicking the lighter on.
After exhaling, she raised her chin slightly. “If I can look past the blatant animal abuse…” Tasha began, “why aren’t you feeding on a human? Not that I’m asking you to.”
Like an addict, watching Tasha light up a cigarette caused Mo to do the same, placing it between her red stained lips and lighting it. “That my friend is a long story but I suppose the be all and end all of it is that I was human once, just like you.” And well, she’d been trying to lay low after Serine had been beheaded.
“I’ve always been marginalized, even after I turned and I’ve always fought for the little guy. Still do.” She let out the nicotine through her lungs, feeling the instant relief it gave to her. At least she knew that smoking would never kill her.
“So you’re only a hunter when it’s convenient for you or am I just that special?” The blood had been cleaned off of her face now but her teeth were still stained red like lipstick that didn’t quite make it to her lips. That didn’t stop her from offering a smirk.
Tasha flicked the ash off the end of her cigarette. “Only when it’s convenient for me,” she answered dryly, scraping the toe of her Converse sneaker against the ground. “I try not to sweat the small stuff, you know? I can look the other way on some things. Still deciding if this is one of them.”
She watched a blue-gray tendril of smoke rise over their heads in a delicate swirl. “How exactly do you fight for the little guy, besides not sucking them dry?”
Moira might normally scoff and yell but she liked the question and she could tell Tasha felt the same way about other vampires as she did. “I’m a civil rights attorney.” She said simply, sidling herself closer to Tasha. She knew how hunters felt about vampires, she’d almost been killed herself but this one was different.
She was glad she was not already dead.
“And before you start with the ‘typical vampire lawyer’ spiel, I was fighting for civil rights way before I was turned.” The 60’s was a virtual petri dish of bigotry.
“You’re a lawyer,” Tasha repeated between puffs of smoke. “A hippie lawyer?” She tilted her head and studied the vampire a little more closely and curiously. “That’s a new one for me, and I’ve been hunting since…” She held up her fingers, looking at them through one squinted eye. “For years. Yeah.” She took another step toward the redhead.
It was then Moira realized how drunk the other woman was. It almost looked like she was going to count the years on her fingers but instead moved closer and stared through her open palm. “Whoa whoa, you ok there sweetie?” She finally asked, concern growing in her.
“What’s your name gorgeous?” Maybe she could call her a cab. Hunter or not, anyone that drunk was easy prey for people and creatures much worse than her. She placed a hand on the hunters arm in case she lost her balance. That face was far too pretty to ruin with a fall.
Tasha laughed, which turned into a post-cigarette cough. She turned her head away from the vampire briefly. “It’s not gorgeous,” she told her, wagging one finger. The hunter looked down at the ground, at the trail of blood that was drying on the concrete. “Poor kitty,” she whispered sadly to herself.
“It’s Tasha. And you, you’re going to tell me your name and where you work, because I’m going to send you some prime pig’s blood. I know a vampire who swears by this one brand. Nice guy. Doesn’t eat people, either.”
Moira felt saddened for a moment, sad for how she’d made Tasha feel and sad that she went to these depths to eat. That didn’t last long though, a chuckle erupted at what Tasha had said next. “I’ll tell you my name but maybe I should just give you my home address. Not really interested in answering why someone sent me pig blood.” Roman might look away but the rest might inquire what she got up to in her spare time.
“Tasha, I’m Moira. Why don’t you let me take you home?” Not in a sexual way, although the thought had crossed her mind, but to make sure she wasn’t raped or killed once Mo left.
“You don’t have to worry about me, Moira,” Tasha assured the vampire as she lit up a second cigarette. “I’ve been blackout drunk and fought off a demon or two.” She rolled up her left sleeve and showed the redhead a long, thin scar on her inner forearm. “I think this was from that.” Fixing her shirt, she eyed the other woman closely.
“Unless this is a come-on. I’m not looking for anything right now,” Tasha insisted. “I’m getting to know myself. Dating me.” She leaned forward as if telling a secret. “I’m not a cheap date.”
Moira rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Listen, you’re beautiful and I’d be more than honored to go on a date with you, but I don’t feel right leaving you here. So let me get you a cab, just so I can feel better. Hmm?” Maybe if she went the selfish route Tasha would be more compliant.
Mo wasn’t going to beat a dead horse when it came to flirtation and she certainly wasn’t going to force herself on Tasha. Drunk or not it was clear the woman had a strong right hook and while Moira matched or surpassed that with her...condition, it wasn’t worth the effort.
She removed her phone from her pocket and waved it in front of Moira. “Tell you what, my fanged friend,” she said, handing over the device. “You can hail me an Uber and watch me get in it.”
A smirk as she took the offered phone in her hands. Mo was slow to the devices and it really showed her true age better than anything else. She squinted as she looked at the screen to pull up the app, using the location button after what seemed like far too long. “I’ll hate to see you leave, but I’ll love to watch you walk away.” A wink.
After finally finishing up the ride she snuck over to Tasha’s text messages, sent herself a heart emoji, and plugged her name into Tasha phone. Numbers were easy enough to block if it was an unwelcome addition. “They’ll be in front of the bar, why don’t we go over there and wait for it?” She tossed her cigarette to the ground and stamped on it.
Tasha burst out laughing, taking the phone back and sliding it back into her jeans pocket. “The seventies called,” she told Moira with an amused smirk. “They want their pickup lines back.” The hunter followed the vampire around to the front of the bar. She found a bike rack to lean against.
It was good that Tasha found her so amusing though she could argue that she pulled that line off pretty well. “You’re awfully picky aren’t you? What kind of pick up lines do you use then, huh?” Moira didn’t mind the banter, she thought even in her drunk state that Tasha was still charming.
“I’m not a game-player,” she told the vampire. “If we’re both vibing, I’ll just be up front and say so. Trust me,” Tasha added with a smile, eyes glittering, “I have no problems asking for what I want.” She pulled out her phone to check the progress of her Uber. A Prius driven by Tiffany, three minutes away.
“You should try it.” With that, she reached out and booped Moira on the nose.
“Maybe when you’re a bit less drunk Tasha. I don’t make moves on people with impaired judgement.” She couldn’t help but smile at the way Tasha touched her. Every part of her was cold, had been for a long time but a sudden warmth spread in her face as she felt the contact with a warm body, no matter how small it was.
“But, you know, if you think I’m too old for you then I understand.” Mo could be direct, she hadn’t had it problem with it before and she hadn’t the other night either but there was a lot of fun in the flirtation and Mo wouldn’t stopped until she watched the driver leave with Tasha in tow.
Tasha smirked at the mention of age. Something told the hunter that Moira had been around for several presidential administrations. It was amusing, the idea that age would be the sticking point for someone who hunted and killed the vampire’s kind as a vocation. “Let’s start with laying off the cats, maybe? Then we can go from there.” The Prius pulled up then, and she pulled open the backseat door.
“I suppose I’ll see you around,” she told the redhead. “Or you can text me.”
Caught, but Moira smirked at that, giving her a playful wave as she climbed into the car to drive away. She was cute, really cute and Moira would definitely be texting her, but she’d wait until much later when the other woman was asleep so that she could read it in the morning.