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Belle was exhausted.
"At least the rent is covered and with tips I can eat."
Is was small comfort at two in the morning as she headed to her car, the grimy neons of the Rabbit Hole flickering off behind her. She hated working at the local dive bar, but it was the only job she'd been able to get. That wasn’t entirely true, she could have worked for her Dad.
She shuddered at the thought of being stuck in the flower shop with him from nine to five every day. He’d been bad enough with the passive aggressive digs at her choices when she was a teenager, but since she came back from college he’d given up on any pretence of subtly and was now blunt in his disapproval. He was also convinced that ‘a nice man’ would look after her and prevent any more ‘silliness’. No matter how many articles and leaflets she left lying around in his kitchen, he still held the opinion that mental health problems could be cured by the right man in her life.
At least she only saw Dad a few times a week now. She loved him, but one more demand that she settle down and she'd stuff him into that awful giant vase he used for the Valentine’s display. She grinned to herself as she crossed the car park; Dad’s large frame crammed into the horrible red glass vase might be a better Halloween display.
Her little blue car was starting to look a bit battered, but the engine was sound thanks to Billy. She'd helped him study for his GED so he looked after her car on the cheap. He was a star, but he still couldn’t get the heater to work all the time. He was convinced that a gremlin had taken up residence.
Even though she was the only car in the parking lot she checked her mirrors before she reversed out of the space. The bump and thump came as a hell of a shock. Belle jumped out of the car but left the engine running. She paused half way out and grabbed the flashlight from the glove box, more as an impromptu weapon than for the light it would provide.
Edging around the back of the car she braced herself to the fender hanging off, or worse an injured animal. The sight of a man groaning on the ground by her back bumper was not what she had been expecting.
“Where the hell did you come from?”
The man rolled over and groaned; “Scotland.”
“What?”
“What what?”
They stared at each other, both desperately trying to work out what the hell the other was talking about. The man shakily sat himself up and hissed. Belle blamed the poor light for the strange way his teeth glinted. He was grimacing in pain and rubbing at his hip. She was going to have to be the one to start making sense
“I checked my mirrors there was nothing behind me. How did I hit you?”
“Oh right. Mirrors don’t work for me.”
Belle waited sure that he was going to make some joke about his looks or dark clothes. Nothing. He just kept looking at her like she was supposed to understand. Belle sighed and offered him a hand; “Come on, I should take you to the hospital, get that bump on your head looked at.”
He took her hand and she had to stop herself wincing at how cold he was. It took a good tug to get him on to his feet. He wobbled a bit and slumped against the back of her car.
“I didn’t bump my head.”
Belle didn’t believe that for a hot second. Anyone who could claim that mirrors didn’t work for them must have a concussion. It wasn’t like a mirror could breakdown or need a software update.
“Yeah well, still best to get you checked out.”
He tilted his head to one side and looked directly at her. The lights in the carpark must be on the fritz because the gold flecks in his brown eyes looked like they were swirling.
“You’d let a strange man in your car with you?”
Belle blinked and stepped back. What the hell had she been thinking? She’d never seen this man before, he’d appeared out of nowhere and now she was offering to drive him to the hospital. He could be a killer. She shivered at that thought.
The man leaned forward and whispered; “Might be best if you just went home.”
Belle was in two minds. She’d just knocked this man over with her car, at the very least she should call an ambulance or the Sheriff. On the other hand, she had a sudden intense desire to get home as quickly as possible.
“Yeah. I should go home.”
Rum watched as she got into her car. At least his powers of suggestion hadn’t been affected by getting knocked over. He limped out of the way as she reversed the car, he didn’t think he could cope with getting hit twice tonight. Tales of vampire super strength and resistance to injury were greatly overstated in fiction. He’d just been hit by a car and it hurt. True he’d recover a damn sight faster than a human, but right now he was still feeling to shaky to move at more than a slow stagger.
She gave him a curious look as she drove past him. Please let his suggestion work. Had he told her to forget him? Damn he didn’t think he had. It looked like she worked in the bar, he could always come back in a few days and make sure she’d never remember him. He stayed perfectly still until she reached the entrance to the car park. The brake lights of her car came on, she must be checking the road was clear.
Rum groaned when he saw her hair flick as she twisted in her seat and peered out of the rear window. Okay, this wasn’t good. She turned back and checked her mirrors again. Rum crossed his fingers that she’d decided she was tired and seeing things. He groaned again as the engine revved and the car began speeding back towards him. He clenched his teeth. This was going to hurt like hell.
Belle’s head bounced off the head rest as she collided with the man. She hissed at the taste of blood in her mouth. Her dad was always telling she she’d bite through her lip if she persisted in nibbling it, for once he was right about something. Thankfully he wasn’t here to be smug about it.
Oh gods. She'd run the man over again and this one was no little bump. She gripped the steering wheel and tried to calm her breathing. She couldn’t remember a single one of the breathing exercises that Dr Hopper had taught her. Her ragged gasps were loud in the small car. Had she really seen a man who didn't have a reflection? Vampire. No that was ridiculous. Vampires were not real. She was over tired and seeing things again. She ground the heels of her hands into her eyes. If she was hallucinating again this was the worst episode she'd had in a long time. He'd felt solid and sounded real.
She jumped as something knocked on the back bumper.
"Hello? Erm, would you mind pulling forward. Please?"
There was a Scottish lilt to the voice. He'd said he was from Scotland. Moving as if she was trapped inside a jelly she slowly went through the motions of easing the car forward. Without thinking about it she wrapped her fingers around the flash light she'd tossed on the passenger seat and opened the door.
Rum bit out a couple of swear words as the car rolled off his leg. He'd expected to be flung backwards, but somehow, he'd ended up under the back wheel. This was going down as one of the shittiest nights in his immortal life. Hit by the same car twice in the space of ten minutes. Was this worse than the night he'd drunk from that opium eater and tried to fly from the top of a four-storey building? Yes, definitely. That landing had hurt but he’d been so high he'd giggled as he twisted his knees back the right way.
Oh great, his maniac driver was getting out of the car. He didn't have the strength left to suggest that she please fuck off and leave him alone.
The light prod of her toe to his ribs didn't improve his mood. He felt rather put out by the yelp she gave, he was the one lying on the floor in agony, why was she screaming?
"Fuck! You are real! Shit! I am so sorry. Okay this time I am taking you to hospital."
Rum tried to sit up an instantly regretted it; "No hospital. I just need..." -How the hell was he supposed to say he just needed to get back to the graveyard? - "... just need to go home."
It was true, but she wasn't going to believe where he lived. Maybe he could roll out of the car as they passed by the gates? The very thought of hitting the asphalt at speed made him moan.
She'd crouched down and brushed the hair out of his face. The blood heat of her hands on his cool skin made his fangs throb.
"I'm sorry I thought you were an hallucination."
Rum snorted; "Did vampire not cross your mind?"
"Well yeah, but that’s mad."
Rum was in too much pain to care about keeping his nature hidden. He pulled his lips back in rictus grin and let his fangs drop. His fangs were impressive, a bit flashy thanks to some twisted sense of humour of his changing.
Belle’s mouth dropped in shock at the sight of the needle-sharp gold fangs that filled the man's mouth.
"You're a vampire."
All Rum could focus on was the sweet red blood in her mouth. It looked like she’d cut her lip. That smear of crimson was so inviting, so tempting, and looked downright delicious. He raised his hand to cup her face, she flinched, but didn’t pull back. A quick swipe of his thumb over her lip and his had his prize. He lapped at his thumb and sighed happily as the taste of iron and salt bloomed across his tongue.
Belle scooted away. Watching him suck her blood from his thumb hammered home the fact he was a real vampire. This was a really fucking weird night. He was staring at her lips and for a heartbeat she thought he was going to pounce her. He dropped his gaze and gave an embarrassed cough.
“I, erm, I don’t suppose I could take you up on that lift, maybe, if you wouldn’t mind?”
Belle gave him a good hard look. She knew fake shy and bumbling, plenty of the men who frequented the Rabbit Hole employed it as a flirting tactic. For many of them it was a very thin mask that attempted to conceal what complete and utter jerks they were. She wasn’t getting any alarm bells from the vampire.
“What’s your name?”
He looked up at her, not the least bit of surprise on his features; “Robert Fitzglen, I go by Rum.”
“Belle French. Come on let’s get you up.”
Getting him upright wasn’t as difficult as Belle had thought it might be. He was heavily favouring his right leg, and he’d winced as she wrapped an arm around his ribs, but for a bloke who’d been hit by a car twice tonight he was in good shape. She got him settled into the passenger seat and then hopped into the car.
“Okay, so hospital?”
“No, no, please no. Draws far too many questions. The graveyard please.”
“Seriously?”
He chuckled; “Yeah I know, it’s a cliché, but I don’t sleep in a grave or a crypt. There’s a cabin for the groundskeeper.”
“And they don’t mind you using it?”
“Not at all, since I am the groundskeeper,” – he waved away her obvious question, - “long story.”
Her bar-tender senses told her that was a ‘I don’t want to talk about it’, but it felt like a not-right-now, rather than a never-at-all. The idea that she might see Rum again after tonight made her smile as she started the car.
Rum could feel that Belle had a million questions, but she let him be. Damn good thing to because he was feeling woozy and was almost sure talking would make him throw up.
“We’re here. I can’t get any closer because the gates are locked.”
He started at Belle’s voice and blinked at the shape of the graveyard gates through the windshield.
“I can manage from here. Thank you, Belle.”
He turned to look at her and found her worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.
“Is this where you work some vampire mojo on me, so I forget all about you?”
It should be, but he didn’t want to. He didn’t know where this reluctance was coming from, but it was there pushing an invite to come and visit him one night onto the tip of his tongue. He swallowed that mad impulse and instead said; “Don’t have to, unless you’re going to go telling all and sundry that you ran over a vampire. Twice.”
She shook her head; “Nah, I think I’ll be keeping this to myself. Got to think about what this would do to my insurance premiums.”
Rum huffed a laugh; “Very sensible. Insurance companies are worse blood suckers than me.”
She smiled at his pathetic joke, and then smothered a yawn with her hand. It was very late for her. Rum opened the car down and stepped out. Once the door was closed again Belle wound the window down, so he ducked his head and said; “Good night Belle. Drive home safe and sleep well.”
“See you around Rum.”
As the little blue car drive away Rum wondered if it was her Australian accent that had made her last words sound like a question, or if she had been asking would they meet again. He licked his lips and caught the last faint taste of her blood. A sudden and rare certainty struck him; he would be seeing Belle French again and it would be sooner rather than later.