Inside the windowless cafe, the scent of blood was not the only thing that hung in the air. Whispers and rumours, gossip and tales - all these filled the enclosed space that was the cafe interior. And whether they were meant to be heard or not, a certain pair of ears caught them all.

And those ears belonged to a certain barista hunched behind the counter. Her name was Abigail. And for some time, she had been working at Bloodclot Cafe. For an even longer time, she had been existing. She had been listening.

Her auburn wig barely hid the pointed bat-like ears that protruded from the sides of her head. Although emerald eyes kept their gaze on the cup of blood she was currently saturating with caffeine, her attention wandered. From one end of the room to another, she could hear whatever she wanted. All she had to do was swivel her ears oh-so-slightly , turning her attention from one table to another.

"Have you read the new chapter of -" Whoops, not gossip. She switched her attention to another corner of the room.

"Woah, where'd you download that-" Boring. Next table.

"Ugh! Can you believe she did that?"

Oh? This caught the barista's attention. Who did what now? She mentally crossed her fingers for something good, something juicy.

"How the hell am I supposed to fix this mess?" The customer continued. "I mean, sure, the cops didn't find anything but-"

Ahem.

AHEM

Abigail's attention was brought back to where she stood - behind a counter and under the impatient glare of a customer aggressively clearing his throat at her. Oh right. The blood. She supposed it was caffeinated and sweetened enough. Probably a bit too much, but hey he did ask for it to be as "strong and sweet" as possible.

"Ah, sorry about that sir." She took the man's order slip and handed the beverage over to him. She had barely tuned back in to the only thing tonight that came close to being interesting, when she heard another set of footsteps approach the counter.

Abigail let out a barely audible sigh and looked up to find a face concealed by a huge woolen scarf and a pair of dark sunglasses. The rest of their body was clad in a thick long coat. Totally not suspicious at all.

"Welcome, how may I help you?"

A muffled voice spoke up from behind the scarf, straining hard to sound unrecognizable. "One cup of dog's blood, please."

The barista squinted. "Medium or large?"

"Large," a clawed finger rose to adjust the shades on the stranger's face.

Or were they a stranger? They did smell awfully familiar. That's right, smell. Being the animalistic-type, Abigail didn't just excel in picking up gossip. She picked up scents too. And this person smelled a lot like cat and ... a very familiar brand of perfume?

"Anything else?"

"No thanks. Oh wait- maybe some sugar? Like, just a little bit?"

"Right, one large cup of dog. Mildly sweetened." Abigail knitted her brows together. The fake voice the other was putting up was slipping. "Are you sure you'd rather not have cat? It goes well with alcohol, or so I've heard."

"What? No, of-of course not!" Sweat was forming on what could be seen of the customer's brow.

The barista sighed. Then leaning over the counter, hissed "Vanessa, I know that's you."

"Van- who now? I don't know that name!"

"You know you're banned in here."

"Aw c'mon. Have a heart, will ya?" The heavily concealed figure wasn't even trying to disguise her voice anymore. "That was one time!"

"Mhmm...?" Abigail didn't seem convinced.

"Okay, fine! Three times!"

"Five."

"Five?! Well, that's odd, I don't remember the other two times I've done anything objectionable."

"You were drunk off your ass, Van."

"Puh-lease, you don't even serve alcohol here!"

"Everyone who's worked here knows you come with your own drinks." Like anyone could have ever forgotten Vanessa pouring vodka straight from the bottle and into a coffee cup of blood, staring the cafe staff straight in the eyes. It wasn't the only time either.

"But like, we're friends , right? Abby?" Vanessa was dropping every pretense of innocence now. "Right?"

The two were interrupted by the other barista behind the counter. "Abby? Is everything alright there?"

"Yeah, yeah. It's just Van. I got this."

Better deal with this herself than leave it to her timid colleague. Abigail reached into her backpocket for her cellphone. She was calling the sentry (who was clearly slacking off on their shift).

"Abby, wait! Wait, I got something interesting for you!"

"Yeaaaah, no. Not falling for that this time."

"This one's good, I swear!"

Abigail hesitated, before pulling out her cellphone.

"Remember that dude you told me about? The one with too many teeth?"

The barista looked up, a finger hovering over the touchscreen of her phone.

"And like, you thought he might've been a mixed-type vampire, right? Look, hear me out. What if he's not? What if there's like, this new type of vampire going around?"

Abigail just gave her a look. That's it she was calling security.

"He's not the only one, y'know," Vanessa softened her voice. "There's, like, more than one of them. All with similar features. Too many teeth, excessive appetite, tendency to pass out after feeding, that same...smell of wrongness...."

Mixed-type vampires were rare. Even rarer were two with the exact same vampiric adaptations. For one, a person had to be transformed by two different vampires of two different types to end up as a mixed-type. And in such cases, vampiric traits were passed down seemingly at random.

"But that's totally weird, right? A brand new type outta nowhere?"Vanessa continued.

Abigail was now listening.

"See, rumour has it that these guys aren't natural. Like they didn't just happen because of some biting or sucking."

"Wait, what? What's that even supposed to mean?"

"They're cursed. Like, even more than we are."

Abigail just stared at the other vampire, trying to parse out what she meant. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"There's more than just vampires and zombies out there, y'know. More than undead. It's like, like....something else....I don't know....but it's got blood....it's got blood and it's... infectious?" Vanessa had fallen silent and her barista friend had to wonder if she was, for once, actually deep in thought.

"Van? You alright there?"

The shade-wearing vampire nodded. But before she could open her mouth to continue, a heavy hand clapped down onto her shoulder.

It was the nightguard.

"Oh man, can't believe I forgot you weren't allowed here anymore," the nightguard sighed. And here she was, wondering why Vanessa was in such a get up in the first place.

"Wait, what? When did you-?"Vanessa shot her friend behind the counter an alarmed look. Abigail looked equally alarmed. She didn't do anything! Why would she? It was just getting good.

Wait.

Wait a minute.

She turned to look at her colleague. He had his cellphone in his hand.

"What."

"Ren! I told you I could handle this!"

"Oh. I...uh...just thought you could've used some help?" The boy was looking awfully sheepish for someone who had just done the right thing.

"But it was just getting so good!"

Meanwhile, the nightguard was now trying to wrestle a resisting Vanessa out of the cafe. The peaceful approach would have never worked anyways. Claws and fangs bared like a wild animal, Vanessa hissed and struggled in vain as she was forcibly removed from the cafe.

The other customers merely watched from their seats.

Just another weekend night at Bloodclot Cafe.