Awareness returned slowly to Dawn. Her limbs felt heavy, her eyes and mouth were scratchy and dry, and her head throbbed persistently, but it was too warm under the covers to get up just yet. Distantly, she heard Cal speaking to some tinny, staticky voice. Cal was here. He’d make sure everything was fine. She let the soothing background noise lull her back to sleep, safe and content.
~~~~~~~~~
When she awoke again, she was trapped in the eternal stalemate between the urge to relieve herself and the desire to burrow deeper into the comforting warmth of the covers. After some drowsy deliberation, Dawn decided to enjoy the coziness a little longer before her body finally sabotaged her morning.
…
Morning?
She jolted awake in a panic. Dawn knew she was getting a suspicious amount of rest. She must have overslept her alarm! In a tangle of limbs and sheets, she scrambled to get out of bed as quickly as possible. Yesterday was Sunday, which meant that today… yesterday she…
The memories of the previous night came rushing back all at once, slamming into her with palpable impact and sending her mind reeling. She collapsed back into the bed in a daze as the chaotic scenes replayed themselves endlessly behind her eyes. They had been attacked. Strange men had swarmed into the house. Cal had killed them all. She was tied up and helpless. Powerless. It was so dark. Her breathing hastened as terrors only she could see drew closer.
It wasn’t until Cal shook her gently that part of her came back to the present. She stared up at him uncomprehendingly as her mind slowly settled itself again. This time, everything rebuilt itself around this very moment. She was here. She was alive.
Soon, she was calm again, and she mentally tested her footing. Beneath the thin ice lay the churning, freezing waters that threatened to swallow her whole with a single misstep. Good enough.
“Are you ok?” Cal asked softly, still looking down at her with concern.
Dawn opened her mouth, and then spent a few moments relearning how to use her own tongue. “I’m fine,” she finally managed.
Cal looked down at her skeptically. “Are you?”
She turned away from his intense gaze. “For now.”
Dawn was endlessly thankful that he seemed to understand and didn’t press the matter. It wouldn’t take much to plunge back beneath those frigid waves. She was mere inches away from drowning. Cal held out a hand to help her up, which she gratefully accepted.
As soon as her hands touched his, she knew something wasn’t right. His hand was cold. Too cold. And it was no mere chill, either. She held his hand, staring, for several seconds, and it scarcely warmed at all. As Dawn stood up, she raised an eyebrow at Cal and glanced pointedly at his hand. He just sighed and slumped a little.
“Long or short answer?” he asked.
“Short, for now,” she replied.
Cal closed his eyes, as if bracing himself. “Please don’t freak out,” he pleaded. With that, he opened his mouth to reveal four long, sharp fangs.
The waters rose and the winds howled, but the ice held.
Curiously, cautiously, Dawn raised out a hand and prodded a pointed tooth with her finger while Cal patiently held still for her. His fangs were as real as they were sharp. She carefully pulled her hand away and watched with fascination as the sharp teeth seemed to dull and shorten somewhat as he closed his jaw again. A thought struck her.
“Is that why I’ve never noticed them when we made out?”
Cal nodded, seemingly abashed at first, and then increasingly guilty. He seemed to deflate even further as he shifted nervously on his feet. “I’m… sorry you had to find out like that. I was hoping to break it to you slowly, but then last night happened. And I’m sorry about that too, they were definitely after me. I should h—”
The ice creaked beneath her feet.
Dawn stopped him mid-word with a finger on his mouth. “I don’t know how I feel about that, and I definitely don’t want to think about any of it right now.”
Cal just nodded glumly.
Now that her mind was no longer actively imploding, Dawn’s body began loudly complaining once more, and the urge that woke her returned with a vengeance.
“So where’s the bathroom?”
~~~~~~~~~
Dawn stepped out of the lavatory feeling a great deal less burdened. Now, she finally took a moment to take in her unfamiliar surroundings. The walls were some kind of cheaply painted brick or stone, with a relatively low roof. Cal’s head was never far from scraping the low ceiling, and he had been ducking low for some of the smaller doorways on the way here. The entire place was lit with strange orbs embedded in the ceiling, not unlike cheap fluorescent lights, but without the horrid buzz.
After she had announced her urgent need to relieve herself, Cal had guided her out of the small room, through a musty storage area with countless barrels, and into the grimy little basement chamber with little besides a foldable table. There were two men sitting on plastic crates near the stairs by the other wall, playing cards over a half-barrel that served as a makeshift stump of a table. Neither paid them any mind, but Dawn had nonetheless stared until Cal gently pulled her towards the small “employees only” bathroom off to the side of the room. It was, to her great surprise, the cleanest place she had seen in this new environment.
Now that she looked closer, the men playing cards were both wearing stained aprons, and the big, heavyset one had a cigarette dangling precariously from the corner of his mouth while he pondered his cards. The smoldering stub looked to be a slight breeze away from igniting his beard. The other man was a slim Asian man with glasses and large ears, who moved with a squirrelly nervous energy, as though he had one too many energy drinks and couldn’t sit still. Noticing her attention, Mr. Glasses gave Dawn a nervous smile and polite nod, then went back to restlessly fidgeting with his cards and bouncing his leg, while Mr. Beard absently grunted in vague acknowledgement, still lost in strategizing. He finally grumbled and tossed down his cards, then slid off the crate to kneel on the ground and stretch. Dawn couldn’t help but wonder if the balding spot on the top of his head was from rubbing against the ceiling all the time.
Just as she began to wonder where he was, Cal descended down the stairs into the room with a bowl in each hand. The smell of fried rice and something unfamiliar tickled her nose, and her stomach let out a roaring growl that echoed slightly in the small room, much to Dawn’s embarrassment and Mr. Beard’s visible amusement.
“What time is it anyway?” she asked in an effort to smother out the sound of rumbling as she made her way over to the table.
“Monday evening,” replied Cal. “You were out for some twenty hours or so. Dig in.”
He placed the food before her along with a stack of napkins. As Dawn looked around for a chair to sit on, the tall, hunched figure of Mr. Beard appeared next to her, holding out the crates he and Mr. Glasses had been sitting on moments ago. Behind him, Glasses waved as he packed up the last of the cards and then ascended the stairs. She cautiously took the makeshift seat from Mr. Beard and set it down.
“Thank you…”
“Sasha,” rumbled the bearded man.
“Thank you, uh, Sasha,” she stuttered.
He nodded stoically, inclined his head towards Cal, and turned to leave. As he lumbered away, Dawn couldn’t stop sneaking glances at the cigarette that miraculously clung to the corner of his mouth, somehow refusing to be shaken free or accidentally ignite his impressively bushy beard. How that scraggly thing didn’t spark like tinder was an utter mystery to her.
When she turned back and sat down, Cal was settling himself across the table on the half-barrel. Now that they were finally alone, Dawn began ravenously shovelling the fried rice into her mouth. Thank goodness Cal was no stranger to her “unladylike” habits. She made an appreciative noise for the rich and hearty dish. This was nothing like cheap takeout. No wonder that Chinese fusion place had a 1.8 star rating and so many negative reviews she couldn’t read. There was no way she was going back to eating that stuff.
Cal smiled indulgently as he watched. “Lee and Sasha were more than happy to whip something up. They were pretty concerned about you when I crashed here. Insisted on ‘standing guard’ and stuff. Right, you probably have questions about, well, everything.”
Dawn nodded. “Sasha?” she asked through a mouthful of rice.
That was evidently not the question Cal was expecting, even though it was obviously the most pressing one. He blinked at her for a moment.
“It’s short for Aleksandr or something.”
She didn’t quite see how one would get Sasha out of Alexander, but shrugged it off. It was a fun name to say, and funnier still attached to the big burly Slav.
“What’s this stuff?” she asked, pointing at the bowl of some reddish-pink liquid suspiciously. “Shouldn’t you be the one drinking blood?”
Cal burst into laughter at her question, and Dawn could feel her smile trying to return. Sitting in a dingy basement room, listening to him laugh, with a belly full of amazing food. Never mind the madness of yesterday. Never mind the million questions in her mind. She wanted to bottle up this moment and spend the rest of her days drunk off of it.
“That’s borscht, not blood,” he answered. “Sasha insisted on it. His grandmother’s old family recipe is different from the usual, apparently. Give it a try.”
Dawn took a cautious sip, and her eyes lit up. It had a light, sweet-sour tang that invited her in for another bite. She licked her spoon clean of stray rice grains and began to scarf down the rich stew. She found, to her delight, several rich and juicy chunks of beef amongst the cabbage and onion. Cal watched her as she ate, and soon she found herself staring back at him.
“What about you?” she asked.
He shook his head slightly. “It’s fun, but I don’t actually need food like that.”
That piqued her curiosity again, as she was reminded of his nature again. “So… you weren’t drinking from me right? I don’t recall noticing any dots on my neck.”
Cal shook his head vehemently, and the frigid tides receded slightly.
“So what were you eating?” she continued. “And what are you eating?”
“Mostly whatever was handy,” he replied. “Sometimes I would grab something in the woods. I don’t need that much, and I just took a bite out of Sasha, so I’ll be good for a while.”
The ice trembled slightly, and Dawn frowned at the thought. The big man had seemed entirely fine earlier, though. She considered voicing her concerns, but then again, her boyfriend of over a year randomly turned out to be a vampire, and neither Cal nor Sasha had seemed bothered by this feeding arrangement. Life, it seemed, was pretty fucking weird.
She sat there, gnawing on the silverware and trying to formulate her next thought. For every question Dawn thought of, two more questions soon followed, and every answer she received only spawned even more. She could feel her mind rapidly fraying under the weight of her own curiosity, and the gelid tides churned with increasing ferocity. Evidently her inner turmoil was visibly spilling outwards, because Cal laid a hand over hers and gave her a reassuring squeeze.
“Start small,” he advised.
Small? Dawn could do that.
“What’s your name?” she blurted out.
He gave her a funny look. “My full name is Calaf, though I’d much rather you keep calling me Cal.”
It was Dawn’s turn to give him an odd look. “Calaf what?”
He shook his head. “Surnames don’t really work like that for us, and I don’t know if my father even has one. I guess I could use my mom’s?” The conversation paused briefly as he pondered it. “Nope. ‘Cal Pacelli’ sounds like a bad pizza brand.”
The howling gale seemed to abate ever so slightly.
“She doesn’t live nearby, I take it? Seeing as we’re here in a… somewhere,” Dawn said as she gestured around.
Cal grimaced a little, and his tone became a little softer. “Right, I never told you. I don’t mean to alarm you, but she’s been gone for a bit over twenty years now.”
Dawn was alarmed. “Gone? What do you m—oh… OH!” She suddenly wished that she had been shot. Of course she had to go and fuck it all up.
His hand gave hers a comforting squeeze. “Relax, it’s alright. But yeah, she’s been dead for nearly as long as you’ve been alive, so… yeah.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine. You couldn’t have known, and I hadn’t exactly figured out how to tell you.”
Dawn chewed her lip, weighing whether she should ask. Eventually, her curiosity won out. “So, if you don’t mind, how did she… you know…”
“Surrounded by loved ones at the ripe old age of 78.”
The pause that followed was filled with awkward silence.
“So… um… how old are you?” she tentatively asked, unsure if she wanted to know the answer. If his mother was human then he couldn’t be that old right?
Cal looked away somewhat shyly. “I think I’m about 70 or 80? Honestly, I stopped counting pretty early.”
Dawn gave him a good hard look up and down. Nope, he definitely didn’t look like a grandfather. He appeared no different from anyone else her age, and certainly didn’t act like a curmudgeonly old coot either. Well, 70-something was older than she had hoped but younger than she had feared. That was something she could work with.
He watched with obvious amusement as she scrutinized him. “I’ve looked something like this for about 60 years now, I’d wager.”
She nodded absently while sipping the last of her stew, and then was reminded of her other question. “Wait, what do you mean you don’t know if your dad has a last name?”
Cal groaned and rubbed his face with both hands. “Ok, this is going to sound bad, but I don’t know his name either. I just called him Dad, and Mom was always going on with her ‘darlings’ and ‘dearests’ and whatnot. It never really occurred to me to ask. So…”
Dawn raised an eyebrow at him. “You never wondered what your father’s name was?”
“In my defense, he wasn’t much of a talker, and they kept me pretty busy,” said Cal. “Dad insisted that I be raised human, so I was doing math and spelling and stuff. In between all that, he was also drilling me on how to protect and feed myself and all the things that come with being kin. I learned most of what I know from him.”
She nodded along, not entirely comprehending. Sure, she was out of preschool by the time she wondered about her parents’ names, but at least it occurred to her well within a decade of being born. Dawn’s judgement must have shown on her face, because Cal sighed and leaned in.
“Look, near the latter half, I got the impression that asking wouldn’t really give me much of an answer. I’m pretty sure he just doesn’t have a name.”
Her brain decided not to even bother trying to understand what that meant. “What?”
Cal shrugged. “He’s old.”
“The hell’s that got to do with having a name?” asked Dawn incredulously.
“He’s old.”
She mentally kicked that fact into the pile of things she had no hope of figuring out any time soon. Whatever. Most of this didn’t make sense anyway. With a contented sigh, she set down the empty bowl and let loose a thunderous, echoing belch. She could swear she heard snickering from up the stairs.
She covered her mouth sheepishly while Cal gathered the dishes and pulled her towards the stairs. After a short climb, they emerged in a kitchen where Lee and Sasha were once again playing cards. They paused their game and rose as Cal set the dishware down uncertainly. Lee glided over to him, while Sasha lumbered over to Dawn, now finally standing at his full height, and leaned down to look at her.
“Liked soup?”
Dawn nodded vigorously. “It was great, thank you. First time I’ve tried it, and you’ve left a great impression.”
He nodded sagely at her, which inevitably made the cigarette still dangling from his mouth bounce along with his beard. She was so distracted by the sight that she nearly missed him speaking again.
“This is correct way make borscht. Do not listen stupid people say otherwise, yes?”
Dawn just nodded, unsure of how to respond.
Seemingly satisfied that he had spread the good word of his grandmother’s stew recipe, he grunted politely and trudged back to his card game. Lee gave her another nervous smile and wave as Cal guided her towards the swingy black doors out of the kitchen. She wondered if the man was always so high-strung, or if the situation just had him on edge.
They passed through the doors and emerged in a cozy-looking bar. Dawn stared at the golden evening sun streaming in through the glass storefront, lighting up the warm tones of the decor. Polished brass tastefully gilded rich mahogany, and the sun lit up the amber bottle on the counter, casting its molten glow across the bar. It felt like so long since she had seen the sun.
The ice trembled as it threatened to thaw in the warmth.
Thankfully, a sudden movement distracted Dawn from her own thoughts. She turned to see the barkeep sitting behind the counter, slamming back a shot of whatever was in the bottle. He let out a contented sigh, put down the glass, and turned towards them with a grin.
“I was wondering when you’d finish canoodling down there.”
Cal laughed as they walked over, and he reached over the bar to try and muss up the bartender’s shaggy dirty blonde hair. “You can piss right off, ya cunt.”
The “cunt” in question fended off Cal’s hand and grinned at Dawn. “Can you believe I’m friends with this guy? First thing out of his filthy mouth after I let him crash in my basement. You oughta ditch him,” he said while wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
Her smile quite nearly appeared this time, while Cal and his friend laughed uproariously.
After catching his breath, Cal turned to introduce them. “Dawn, this bastard right here is Cyrus, scion of House Fenwick and proprietor of this fine establishment. Don’t drink anything he says is good.”
“Oh come on, I have great taste!” protested Cyrus.
Cal snorted. “Yeah, such great taste he thought it would be a good idea to install fog makers—”
“They added a great ambiance!” Cyrus objected.
“—for a bar that opens at night—”
“It’s very mysterious!”
“—and is designed to be warm and welcoming,” Cal finished triumphantly.
Cyrus grumbled and poured himself another shot. Taking pity on him, Dawn used the brief pause to ask a question of her own.
“So, how do you two know each other?”
The dejected barkeep immediately perked up, alcohol forgotten entirely. Between his hair, demeanor, and general exuberance, Dawn couldn’t help but see him as a golden retriever in human form. Well, vampire form. She was pretty sure she saw a bit of fang while he was talking.
“It all started one fateful day ten years ago,” Cyrus dramatically recounted. “In the middle of the goddamned day, during the highest of noons, this strange feller right here strolled in, as though the sun wasn’t shining directly on him—AND on that large ‘CLOSED’ sign I distinctly remember hanging up.”
Cal shook his head, smiling, and stole the shot Cyrus had just poured. He was so invested in his story that he didn’t even notice.
“Now, we had just closed down after a long night, and this fucker just waltzed in like it was still open, so I turned around and was about to give him a piece of my mind, right? Well I see him standing there, looking around confused, like he simply can’t fathom why an establishment would be completely empty in the middle of the day. I figured that he was just turned or something and needed someone to explain how the bells work. Then I notice: ‘Holy shit, the kid’s just standing there in the sun!’ He’s either stupid as fuck, or a divine blessing just fell out of the sky right into my lap. Ended up hiring him as a delivery driver right then and there. He’s been running day jobs for me and some other folks around here ever since.”
Thoroughly parched after his animated retelling, Cyrus reached for his glass, only to find it in Cal’s hand. He playfully slapped at him in exasperation before pulling out another.
Dawn tilted her head in curiosity. “I take it that being in the sun is special, then? Come to think of it, shouldn’t the sun burn you to a crisp? Or is that just a myth?” She poked Cal. “You seem pretty un-crispy.”
He sighed. “It’s complicated.”
“It’s really not,” interjected Cyrus. “He got lucky. End of story.” He slammed back another shot to punctuate his point.
She looked at the golden rays of sunlight streaming through the storefront windows. “And you seem awfully relaxed for someone who didn’t get lucky,” she pointed out.
He turned to Cal with eyebrows raised. “You really haven’t told her jack shit? I was joking about the canoodling, you know.” He leaned towards her, ignoring Cal’s protests. “You ever had heat stroke? It feels like that. Sunlight won’t blow us up or nothing, but if we stay out there for too long, we’re liable to really shit ourselves. For some, ‘too long’ can be a whole lot shorter, while others can stay out there for a while and be mostly fine. Then there’s the rare case when you find a lucky guy who can endure the blasted sun for longer than the daylight hours, and that’s when you’ve struck gold. Day shifts are hard to cover, you know.”
“So burning up in the sun is just a dramatic way of putting it?”
Cyrus sipped thoughtfully on another shot of liquor. “I wouldn’t say it’s entirely metaphorical. If some bastard gets really damn unlucky, they might very well spontaneously combust out there. Mostly, though, it doesn’t get worse than what I got, which is just feeling pretty weak and ill after a few minutes. Sometimes they get nasty burns or whatever. All things considered, not super common for kin to actually die from the sun itself, but I guess that’s because they’re all dead.”
The ice trembled again.
“Ah,” Dawn said queasily. She looked around at the wall of liquor behind him. “Do you, uh, have anything to steady the nerves?”
He offered up the bottle on the counter, and she noted Cal’s not-so-subtle head shake.
“Do you have anything that’s maybe less than…” she squinted at the label. “145 proof?”
“Aww, you’re no fun,” pouted Cyrus. He pulled a big bottle of brandy off the shelf behind him and tossed it to Cal. “That one’s a nice 55, on the house.” He flashed her a winning smile.
Unsure of what to do, she curtsied with the baggy sweater she wore, and Cyrus roared with laughter.
“Would that you were a fraction as polite as your girl!” he jeered at Cal, who rolled his eyes and flipped off his friend.
Ignoring Cyrus’ vulgar retort, Cal took her hand and led her towards the tables at the front of the store, where the evening sun cast everything in a warm glow. Surveying the seats, Dawn spotted the semicircular booths along the wall and tugged him towards one. She slid in and watched as Cal set the bottle down on the table, then effortlessly turned to catch two hefty whiskey glasses that Cyrus had chucked towards him like fastballs.
While he poured out the brandy, she gazed outside at the empty streets. The architecture was an eclectic mix of styles she couldn’t quite recognize, and it was oddly quiet even for a Monday evening. The empty bar, she could understand, but—
Dawn’s thoughts were interrupted when Cal called her name again. He looked at her intently.
“You alright?”
Distantly, she heard the ice crack.
With a strange sense of detachment, Dawn watched as her own slightly shaky hand reached out and lifted the glass to her lips. The sweetness of the drink did nothing to hide the burn of alcohol, and her hand quickly put it down again.
She drew a deep, trembling breath in an effort to center herself.
“Not really,” she replied. “Distract me? Please?”
Cal reached out and held her hand gently. “What do you want to do? Or know? Should I ask Lee to make you something else?”
Dawn shook her head and looked out the windows again. “Where is everyone?”
Cal glanced out at the street. “Right now? At work, asleep, or hiding from the sun. Most places open at sundown to lean into the night life schedule, since this mound has a pretty high vampire population. This bar’s basically closed right now.”
“Mound?” she asked curiously.
“It’s some kind of obscure fairy magic that nobody else can figure out. This entire city is essentially crammed into a clearing in the woods that you can’t find if you don’t already know it’s here. And yes, it’s bigger inside somehow, don’t ask me how it works. I get a headache every time I look at it for more than a few seconds.”
She stared at him blankly. “Fairies.”
He nodded, then furrowed his brows slightly. “Not quite the children’s movie ones—”
“The fair folk?” she interrupted.
Cal nodded with relief. “Yeah, exactly. Run the other way if you think you see one, don’t flap your mouth at them, that stuff.”
Dawn quietly digested that revelation for a few moments before speaking again. “What else is real?”
“Shifters are pretty common. You know them as werewolves, except it’s not just wolves and it’s not just the full moon. Dad told me that most of the ‘animal people’ legends come from them. Mermaids, minotaurs, werewolves, those Asian snake-people things, and so on. Sasha’s a shifter, you know.”
Her eyebrows raised slightly with muted surprise. “He’s a werewolf?”
“Not sure what exactly he is. I probably should have told you that earlier when I mentioned biting him, sorry about that. Anyway, I know that there’s some other stuff out there, but I’ve never met any and I frankly don’t know a whole lot since I was raised human. Around here, it’s mostly just humans, shifters, and vampires, since the fae are basically impossible to find and usually keep to themselves, thank god.”
Dawn slid over and leaned onto Cal’s shoulder, closing her eyes.
“Why were you always warm before?” she asked.
His cold hand found hers and gave it a squeeze. “Like Cyrus said, I’m fine with the sun. I usually spend a lot of time soaking up the heat during the day. I’m cold right now because I’ve been down in the basement since we got here last night.”
She stayed there for some time, leaning against him. It was strange. With her eyes closed and Cal sitting still beside her, she vividly felt the warmth of the sunbeam slide off her face and the cool air of the night replace it. When she opened her eyes a few moments later, the sun was nowhere to be seen. The sky was darkening and the street bustled with people. Odd.
Dawn took another burning sip of brandy and poured the rest into Cal’s now empty glass. As she stood up, she tested the ice beneath her feet. It seemed sturdy enough. She looked at him and tilted her head towards the kitchen door. Cal got up as well, picking up their glasses and following her.
Distantly, she heard Cyrus say something to Cal, who responded and then hastened to catch up to her. Dawn’s feet carried her in a daze back down the stairs, through the storage room, and to the small cot she had woken up in. While they had been upstairs, someone had been thoughtful enough to hang a privacy curtain over the door to the room, so she gratefully pulled it shut and began stripping her clothes off.
Cal said something to her, which she couldn’t quite make out. Dawn looked at him blankly for a few moments before grabbing him firmly and pulling him towards the cot. They fell into the bed in a heap, and Dawn wrapped her arms and legs around him. He said something again but she just tightened her grip. He finally relented, embracing her back and pulling the thick covers over them. Nestled against his cool body, listening to the faint din of the night’s first patrons above, she began drifting off once more.
In her final waking moments, she laughed mirthlessly to herself. To think that the chill of his touch would be her only warmth in this frozen expanse.
Then sleep claimed her again.