Chapter Text
“He’s here again.”
You looked over to the corner of the saloon where a man dressed in a worn blue shirt, a burgundy vest, black ranch pants, and black boots sat down at a small table. He had come in almost every night since the beginning of the week, slowly sipping a whiskey and writing in a journal. Watching him with some curiosity, you noted how he took out that journal from his satchel, placed his old stalker hat onto the table, and started writing, occasionally looking around the room, observing his surroundings.
“Get him to buy more than just one drink tonight, would you?” Your boss, the barkeep, gestured towards him. “You’re usually pretty good at that, ain’t ya?”
“Usually,” you mumbled as you straightened your skirts and sashayed your way to the man in the corner.
“Good evening sir,” you said with a simper, pulling up a chair and sitting coquettishly next to him. “May I ask what’re you writing there?”
He chuckled, a self-deprecating tone laced between his mirth. “Just my idiotic thoughts. Nothin’ too grand.”
Your heart warmed a bit at his humble demeanor. “Can I see?”
He shrugged. “I guess.” Handing his latest page over to you, he sat back and sipped his whiskey slowly, watching as you read his flowing script across the paper.
It was wonderful. You sat, enthralled by his every word, until the last sentence ended and you were forced to stop reading.
You secretly loved to read, a hobby that didn’t match your profession. You were supposed to play the floozy, the flirtatious lady who would offer her companionship to the lonely men that came to the saloon for a drink and be doted upon by you and your fellow saloon girls.
Handing the journal back to the man, you had to swallow before you could speak. “It’s… it’s fantastic.”
The man smiled as he looked down and scratched the back of his head. You could see by the way he tried to hide his face that he wasn’t used to such compliments. “None of the other ladies seemed interested in my writin’. They all just wanted me to stop and drink with’em.”
You felt a bit guilty; you were here to do the same thing. But after reading such wonderful prose, you couldn’t help but be honest. “Well, to be fair, they’re just doing their job.”
The man nodded. “Sure. But you actually asked to read my book.”
“So you’re writing a book?”
He shrugged. “Tryin’ to. Thought it might be… interestin’, I guess.”
You nodded enthusiastically. “It definitely is! The way you write is so unique, so authentic, I loved it!”
The man blinked in surprise, clearly taken aback by your zeal. “Well, I… thank you.”
“What’s your name?”
“Arthur.”
“Like the king.”
He chuckled. “I guess so.”
His smile was warm, like a fireplace on a cold winter night, and you suddenly grew much more interested in him.
***
Ever since that night, you had come up to him every time he came in, asking him questions about his book. He was always happy to see you, and would answer you in an earnest tone. He started to ask your opinion, if the latest paragraph he had written felt a certain way, or if his words were too convoluted.
But then one night, when you came to work a little later than usual, you saw another woman at Arthur’s table. She was one of the newer saloon girls, and she was flirting with him, much more than you did. You could clearly see three whiskey glasses at the table, and when she caressed his arm, he didn’t shy away; not only that, his smile grew.
Your heart cracked a little bit, but you took a deep breath. He was just a patron, no one special.
You were just lying to yourself.
Putting away your emotions to sort out later, you continued to work the rest of the night, avoiding the corner of the saloon.
***
Admittedly, you were distracted and unable to convince enough men to buy more drinks like you normally could. A bit sad that your wages would be lower tonight, you left work at midnight, walking through the alleys to get to your little room in the boarding house. You hated walking along the main road, where cars would sometimes come by, stinking of fumes that irritated your nose. It was about a twenty minute walk, but you hurried home at almost a jog, knowing that at this hour, it wasn’t the safest place to be.
A soft feminine moan made you pause. Was someone in danger? You reached under your skirt and pulled your dagger out of its holster wrapped around your thigh. Inching forward quietly, you peeked around the corner of the nearest building to peer down the other alleyway.
Under the light of a streetlamp, you could make out the profile of two forms: a woman, her back against a wall with her arms and legs wrapped around a man, thrusting against her, his clothes still on, his hat familiar to you.
As she moaned louder, you watched as Arthur leaned in and kissed her neck, making her moan turn into a high pitched cry of pleasure. You recognized her as your newer coworker. She seemed to be enjoying herself.
When he pulled away, you saw a glint, a flash of a fang. Blood stained the corner of his lips before his tongue quickly licked it away. His eyes glowed an ominous red, and he grinned like a cat that had eaten the canary.
It clearly was not a kiss. And you knew, clear as day, that Arthur was a vampire.
You stepped away from the building and quickly scurried home, locked the door, put a chair in front of it, and attempted to sleep.
Sleep did not come to you until the sun rose and you felt safe from the night.
***
You were tired and terrified, for when you came to work that evening, Arthur was sitting in the corner of the saloon once more, writing in his journal. The other woman was nowhere in sight. Was she home sick? Or worse, was she dead?
Then he suddenly looked up and met your eyes. Unable to look away, you couldn’t ignore him when he beckoned you over.
"He's askin' for you," your boss groused. "Don't just stand there, go make your wages."
You gulped and slowly walked over to Arthur, warily smiling. He returned your smile with an easy grin and a wave of his hand to the chair next to him. Feeling as if a lion had invited you to sit beside him, you sat down, perching on the edge of your seat, your back stiff as a rod.
"What's the matter, darlin'?" Arthur asked, his brow furrowed with concern.
"N-nothing!" you replied almost too quickly. You quietly took a deep breath. "How's your writing?"
Arthur watched you silently, not answering you for a while, long enough that you squirmed in your seat. You fidgeted with your dress, your hands bunching up the fabric at your thighs. He finally let out a defeated sigh.
“You saw.”
You nodded.
“And yer scared.”
You nodded again.
“Well, don’t be.”
You looked at him, aghast. “How can you tell me that when I saw you suck the blood out of a woman last night?” you whispered frantically. “I don’t even know if she’s alive—”
“Hi there, sugar,” a sweet voice said. You and Arthur both looked up to see the woman from last night, alive and well, with a scarf around her neck.
“Hullo,” Arthur greeted politely. You just nodded, too dumbstruck to speak.
“If you get bored with that one,” she said, nodding her head towards you, “You know where to find me.” Winking at him, she wandered off, her hips swaying a bit too much for your liking.
“See? She’s fine.”
You turned back to Arthur. “So… you don’t kill your victims?”
“They ain’t victims,” he shot back. “They is… donators.”
You raised an eyebrow at him.
He sighed. “What would I do if I killed everyone I drink from? I’d be found out eventually. Then what? I’d have to move on. Best if I keep a low profile and just take only what I need. And I offer my… services, in return.”
“So you need to…” You couldn’t bring yourself to say the exact words. “Need to have relations before you drink?”
“Blood tastes best, right when a lady lets go,” he said, his voice deepening.
Something inside of you shifted, and you suddenly felt incredibly jealous of the other woman. What would it feel like, to have such a dangerous creature taking you, taking your body and your blood?
You felt a hand on yours, and looked up at him. His eyes, a swirl of green grass, blue sky, and the yellow sun, mesmerized you for a few seconds before you shook your head.
“Don’t try any funny stuff.”
Arthur laughed. “I can’t do any mind tricks. Ain’t one of my abilities.”
“So what can you do?” you asked, as curiosity began to outweigh your fear.
“Well, I’m stronger and faster than a regular person, and my eyesight is real good,” he said matter-of-factly. “My teacher said a lot of yer vampire powers are based off what you was good at when you was alive.”
“Oh, so you weren’t a con man,” you said offhand.
“Nope, sure weren’t,” he confirmed, chuckling.
“You had a teacher?”
“Yep. When she changed me, she said she could teach me how to survive for one year, then I’d have to move on, find my own territory, before our instincts took over and she’d try to kill me.”
You soaked in all of this information. You couldn’t believe it, and yet you had seen it. A real live vampire. You wondered vaguely how old he was. How long he may have been around. Were his friends all gone?
What a sad thought.
“So you can’t be with other vampires?” you asked.
He shook his head and sighed. “It’s in our nature to be alone, I guess.”
Your heart broke, hearing his words tinged with melancholy. You put your other hand on top of his, sandwiching his hand between yours. “Arthur…” You didn’t know what else to say.
He gave you a wry smile, but his eyes were still filled with loneliness. “S’okay, sweetheart.” He touched your arm gently, and began to lean closer to you.
You didn’t pull away.
Leaning in closer, he kissed your cheek tenderly. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Fer bein’ understandin’.”