El Infierno de Dante

Catherine looked over at him, feeling a strange impulse to say that it hadn’t been her. She managed to keep that under control, knowing that would only make her feel guilty, but she had to assume most people who knew what she did would be assuming the worst. “Do we know anything about the…victim? Like anything that could point to why it happened besides a random attack?” she asked, hoping to distract him from the cover up the papers were inevitably going to settle on.

“Police haven’t released the victim’s identity yet, part of an ongoing investigation, I guess.” He shrugged, that wasn’t unusual. It was kinda weird that no one seemed to be missing, though. “Not that they’ll find anything... it’ll all get covered up, to keep the town’s secrets. We know that.” He was already feeling the effects of the alcohol, even as he ordered another shot. The thought that it might be Catherine didn’t really occur to him; even after what she’d done to him, he didn’t really consider her a threat to anyone else. He didn’t believe she turned people just for kicks, after all.

Catherine noticed that something was going on in his head, though she couldn’t quite pin down what–she had just gotten used to watching his face, catching the small changes in it. She wasn’t sure if it was to her advantage or detriment, but it was seeming, at least, that time was making things a little easier on them. She placed her hand back on his shoulder, squeezing again. “I bet you could, but I’ll happily lighten the load. Might make me look like an upstanding citizen or something like that.”

“Your reputation could use the boost,” he was almost joking, almost light-hearted as he said it. It was true. She didn’t look like a murderer, didn’t even look like what you’d expect a vampire to look like. She looked harmless, but everyone in town knew better now. He sipped his coffee, reminding himself that she wasn’t harmless, no matter what she looked like. He glanced towards her, then away, swallowing the lukewarm coffee hard. “I should... I should get going.” He reached into his wallet, dropping a few crumpled dollar bills on the table for the coffee as he started to pack up his things.

ANGER DIDN’T FRIGHTEN Billie, but it was certainly startling. “Wha–I mean…” Frankly, she was having trouble finding an excuse that didn’t sound… well. Like an excuse. Because sure, it was a selfish thing she was doing. It was for her pleasure. “I’m a nurse,” she said, a little desperation rising to her tone, as though that would explain everything, or at least give her a pass on this one. “And, I mean… vampires need to eat, too, right? Starving to death sounds… I mean, it’s bad, isn’t it? I’ve seen it. It’s brutal, and it’s not nice, and… if you hate it so much, why are you here?”

Simply ignoring the look Dante gave him, Felix pressed on. “You don’t need it,” he answered, dropping the to go cup in the nearest trash can. “Why do you say ‘pimp’ like it’s a bad thing? It’s a great job, especially around these parts.” Clapping his hands together to wipe off any remnants of coffee, Felix rolled his eyes. “Your job keeps you secluded. You need to get to know people, get a taste for this life and all it has to offer.”

“Exactly. The lady knows how to get some pull with everyone around here.” She leaned against the table, sitting just barely on the edge of it to look at him. “Whatever way you’d want me to help, I’m your girl.” She didn’t think he’d want her ideas or her actions considering what her ideas and actions had lead to, but any little way to rebuild after what she had done would help. “I’ll even bite the bullet and teach the old people if I have to.”

‘I’m your girl,’ she’d said, and something about those three little words sent a shiver up his spine. Had he ever really stopped thinking of her that way? He was angry with her --not as furious as he had been before, but still-- but a part of him had never given up the idea that he’d forgive her eventually. Before all this, he’d hoped she’d leave town with him. Now he didn’t know what to hope for. “Good to know, because I don’t think I can pull this off on my own.”

Are you a romantic person?

“Not even slightly.”

“Sure, that’s what Tinder’s for, isn’t it?”

“It’s not something I’ve ever dreamed about.”

Catherine tried to quell the small spark of warmth in her chest when he didn’t comment on or flinch away from her touch. She couldn’t let herself read too much into it, not yet. But it was still good to know he wasn’t entirely disgusted by her presence, her touch. “Yeah, but I’m sure she’s good at convincing the other members to get on her side. It’s her town at the end of the day, right?” She really didn’t want him to lose hope in the idea, since it was something that could at least keep him in town a little longer than what was being required of him.

“She oughta be, she convinced the whole town to vote for her, right?” Dante shrugged, politicians were usually good at getting people on their side. He glanced at his laptop thoughtfully. “Might be worth looking into... a way to get the news out, at least. You gonna help make it happen, or are you just an idea person?” A part of him balked at the thought of working alongside her, but it was at war with the part of him that yearned to be around her. That was the side that was winning right now.

“Not in this godforsaken town.”

“To be alive again.”

“Bunch of fucking self-indulgent assholes, I can’t stand them.”