Ciro sat in a local bar in Italy, with his head leaning down over the counter. Shaky hands cupped his drink on the cold marble, framing it. He had gone too far. Perhaps his kin were right about him. He is too nice. He should simply give in and become a creature of the night, doomed to stalk unsuspecting prey. He vowed that he would never achieve that moral low, but now, he didn’t know. He knew nothing, except that he had gone too far.

He was torn by his thoughts by the lightest stroke of fingers across his back, and a hand now resting on his shoulder. For a moment, his paranoia got the best of him and he assumed it was someone seeking vengeance. Someone who sought him to make him atone for his sins. He whipped his head to face the person, but she seemed surprisingly harmless. She had long streaks of dark, straight hair and was wearing only designer clothes. She sat down next to him, using his shoulder for support and smiled at him in a way that made her intoxication clear. He frowned at her, hoping this was enough to let her know that he was not interested in talking. If this continued, he would have to resist the urge to make her prey and judging by how often she nearly flopped over while sitting down, she wouldn’t be a difficult target.

If she noticed his unfriendly demeanor she didn’t show it. She leaned towards him and said in a loud, slurred whisper. “Heeey! My friends over there bet me 25 euros that I couldn’t get your number.” She started laughing. “So, can I have it?”

“No,” Ciro said bluntly.

“Come oooon,” she whined, “Don’t be a butt. I’ll give you a piece of the winnings,”

Ciro turned to face her. Money was useless to him, but if she would not leave, perhaps he could scare her. He grabbed her wrist and held it tightly. Her expression changed as he spoke, “I don’t want the euros, but perhaps if you really want to win this bet, you can pay me by other means.”

She blushed. “You mean-“

“Blood.” He said so quietly only she could hear. It was risky, but he was certain that she would not remember the exchange in the morning. He flashed his fangs towards her, still stained with the crimson liquid of the other day’s conquest.

He was, of course, expecting her to be frightened. Perhaps even waddle back over to her group and drunkenly tell them who Ciro was. What he did not expect, was her to faint out of fear. Her perfectly tinted pink lips formed an “O” and her dark eyes widened in surprise before her head dropped onto the counter with loss of consciousness. He cursed and turned back to her friends, hoping that she didn’t draw any unnecessary attention to him. Luckily, they were completely engrossed in their own conversation, not in the slightest concerned with their comatose friend. He frowned. What an easy victim she would be…

He gestured the bartender to him and said in a whisper, careful not to wake her, “Can I have a pen?” The man nodded and returned with a blue ballpoint pen which he used to carefully write his number on her hand. He wasn’t entirely sure what his intention one, but he supposed it was a type of pity. He would allow her a small victory. He lifted her up and carried her back over to the group sitting a short distance away. He dropped her in the middle. “I believe this is yours?”

“Who are you?”

“No one of consequence.” he sighed, “Though, I do believe 25 euros are in order?” he gestured to the fresh ink on her hand.

One girl rolled her eyes, “It doesn’t count if she tells you about the bet,”

“Besides, we only said it to get her to go away,” Another one added, “I mean, look at her! She’s an embarrassment. And a complete lightweight. Did she really blackout after three drinks?”

“Her daddy can buy our friendship, but only when she’s conscious!” One cackled.

Ciro let out a sharp, humorous exhale. “You guys really are bitches, huh?”

“Like you’d know anything about it. Go back to being a loner, creep.”

Ciro’s fists tightened. He had committed one homicide, and now, he feared, he was very close to another. In fact, it was the girls waking that caused him to stop. She muttered something unintelligible then sat up. “Where am I?” she said softly.

“We’re at the bar,” one of the girls said, still facing Ciro, “And we were just leaving,”

“But the cute guy…” she whined softly, before turning to face him. Her face turned a rosy pink. “Oh, hi,”

He smiled with a curious amusement. The girl was not ugly, in fact, she was quite attractive in Ciro’s eyes. Perhaps that, plus his earlier pity was what caused him to speak. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Cecilia, no.” One of the girls said. “You already blacked out,”

“And he brought me back to you, didn’t he?” she confirmed, “That seems quite responsible to me.” She turned back to Ciro. “Yes, you can.”

Ciro felt a twinge of guilt at the immediate trust the girl had for him. He was not someone who could be trusted. He was not human, he was not guiltless, in fact, he was not even good. Yet, despite his gained instinct, he knew he had no desire to harm this girl. This could be a redemption for him; a step back into mortal decency. She followed him back to the bar, and later he walked her home.

“Can I have your number, um, for real?” she asked, standing on her doorstep.

“Sure,” He laughed. “Okay, there you go.”

“What? You didn’t write anything.”

“Look at your hand.” He ordered and she did so. She gasped, seeing the blue ink.

“You’re a musician.” She accused.

“You mean magician?”

“Yes.”

“Goodnight,” Ciro said, turning away when suddenly he felt her weight fall onto his back.

Her breath was warm against his neck as she whispered, “See you tomorrow, vampire.”

He froze. Perhaps she remembered more than he hoped. He whipped around to see her smiling knowingly, shifting her weight back and forth trying to stay balanced. There’s no way she would remember in the morning, right? Regardless, he felt it best to make sure his centuries-old secret would stay unknown. He looked intensely into her dark eyes. “You remember?”

“No.”

“You do.”

She giggled. “I do,”

“Tell no one.”

“Your secret is safe with me, Dracula.”

Cybil stared at Ciro with unmatched intensity. The question lingered in the air, making the atmosphere unbearably tense. Ciro wasn’t entirely sure why he wasn’t lying. He could easily escape with a clever fabrication, but something inside him wanted to tell the truth. He wanted to stop hiding. He wanted to be accepted. But most of all-

He wanted blood.