"Interested..." she said, as if testing the word out on her tongue. She let it roll around in her head for a moment before spitting it back out, her nose wrinkled slightly, as if it was not to her taste.

"No, not interested, exactly. Interested to me implies a passing favor to the subject, one that, once sated with enough books, will eventually ebb and fade. My connection to the subject works in a rather reverse manner. The more I learn, the more I read...the more I wish to know. It is a hunger, Mr. Devou, and so, I am afraid this book will be nothing more than a drop in the bottomless pool. Nevertheless, I believe I will enjoy it thoroughly."

All throughout the time she spoke, her eyes danced with the sort of passion only the dedicated could acquire, and she spoke in a serious hush, one she reserved for things of the utmost importance. She had alluded to the fact that this was no mere fancy, but the truth of it went deeper than that. She wasn't just dedicated, she was deeply fascinated, even obsessed. She lowered her tone to barely a whisper as she leaned in towards him, her eyes focused and calculating. Beneath the dim light overhead, shadows collected on her face and made her appear almost supernatural. But that's what the light did in these sorts of places, in this kind of atmosphere. It played tricks on your mind and eyes.

"And I don't believe....that the things in this book...are pure fiction. Do you understand what I mean, Mr. Devou?" she asked slowly and carefully, her eyes bearing into him hard, as if searching for the answer even before it hung on his lips.

"Yes, Jessica, I do believe that I understand. Now . . . why would you say such a thing? You understand of course that believing in monsters is crazy-talk. What makes you think that I would agree with you?"

In spite of his words Creed's tone suggested that he did indeed believe. However it was obvious that he needed to be convinced of her own belief. He had been leaning forward, hanging on every letter that slid from her tongue, rolled across her lips and gently wafted to his ears. He had leaned so close it could almost look like he was going to kiss her. But when he spoke he backed off, regaining the composure of a professor debating with a student.

Something fluttered in her stomach when she became aware of their proximity. And as much as that might have pleased her before, she quickly squashed the feeling. Something more important was at work here. A coy smile played at the corners of her lips as she tapped the book cover lightly.

"Something in your eyes...in the way you spoke of the Fangrualian...suggested to me that you may feel similarly. Correct me if I am wrong. But nonetheless, kindred spirit or no, surely you know that not all who speak nonsense are insane. Simply...ahead of their time. Is that not, after all, the entire point of learning? To further ourselves, to make sense of the chaos? What is contained in this book may seem...fairy-tales and fiction to the common non-believer, Creed, but to me, there is some truth here. Garbled and distorted by human error, but there is...something to be learned. And that is not a thing to scoff at, nor dismiss as fancy," she replied quietly, her eyes following his movements, his tone of voice, his composure. It was hard to read him sometimes, but she got the feeling they both had things that were left unsaid, hanging somewhere in the air between them.

It struck her as amusing, how for a moment they almost seemed to be caught in a dance, even their bodies moved back and forth, challenging each other. She wondered to herself what he was really after. Surely such deep eyes as his were not spent entirely on pouring over late books and checkouts. What secrets did he have? What interests? What hobbies? That persistent fluttering sprang up again and once again she squashed it with firm efficiency.

'Now now, no time for that,' she reminded herself mentally, focusing once more on the mystery of a man who stood before her.

"But, if it is not of...interest," she said with emphasis on the word, "to you, then I won't take up your time with my...crazy talk."

Her tone almost suggested that she was offended, but the smile that spread across her lips told otherwise, as well as the fact that she did not shy away or leave, as others might, if so offended.

Christiana tapped her foot lightly as she stood at the front desk. She would have thought that Creed's replacement would have showed up by now. Her fingers drummed lightly on the tabletop in annoyance. She could see a couple of other students in a similar situation. Moving over to one she whispered

"Do you know who the librarian on duty is?" The man looked at her and his eyebrow raised

"Weren't you talking with him earlier?"

"I was under the impression that his shift just ended." The man shrugged.

"I don't keep track. He went back that way, I'm sure he'll be back." Christiana bit her lower lip softly as she thought. She didn't really want to bother Creed again, but she could at least go ask him who was on duty now, right? Turning back to the man she whispered

"I'll go check with him." The man nodded slightly as she moved off, winding her way back deeper into the library shelves. Her ears perked slightly at the sounds of voices, previously muffled by the thick bookshelves. Curious, she moved closer to hear better.

His interest was more than peaked. It had climaxed with her words, how she suggested that this was all real but simply had been muddled by human filters. Something he had thought of before.

"You are indeed correct. I am genuinely one of the few that study the supernatural. In fact this whole section of books were donated to the Stanford University by myself. They are books pertaining to anything extraordinary. My family has been collecting them for generations, they are my pride and joy."

Becoming nostalgic he gazed at the shelves full of books and breathed deeply for a moment. Looking back to Jessica again he removed his rectangular silver rimmed glasses and polished them with a cloth pulled from his pocket. She really was beautiful, but how did one such as herself become immersed amongst the darkness of this subject? Of course it is intriguing, even a cult religion had been started because of it. however, to truly believe, to react the way she has, one must have had some sort of . . . experience with it.

Her intensity was so much it nearly over-whelmed him. She spoke with such enthusiasm, near-awe inspiring words. He knew that he needed to talk to he about it. Knew that they couldn't talk here. But he still had to ask.

"What happened to you?"

Her smile faltered a moment, and her lips parted, as if to answer, but she grew very still. One could almost see the words on the tip of her tongue withdraw as she took a step forward, to lean into his ear.

"Not here," she breathed, a slight urgency present in her voice, "...too much to be said...and there are better places than this."

Her hands were quick at work, scribbling something down on a notepad. She tore the sheet off and pressed it into his palm, giving their clasped hands a slight squeeze before she wrapped her arms around the books and hurried off. As she passed by an unfamiliar girl, their gaze connected and Jessica's eyes widened for the briefest of moments before she rushed off.

She set her books down at the front desk and drummed her fingers lightly, looking for an assistant or replacement. The titles of the chosen books ranged from Names of the Pit Fiends, the one Creed had read from, to Stories and Local Myths of San Fransisco. Just then, a young woman entered the room.

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A young woman with milky blond hair walked into the library, clothed in a long black coat, and carrying a book in her arms. Her eyes were a very distinctive green that jumped out like sparks in the dark. Her steps were smooth and graceful as she made her way into the maze of bookcases.

She stopped from time to time to scan the dusty backs of the books around her. Somewhere, somewhere, she knew it was here. Her eyes flew over titles and faded names, her fingertips skimming the edges of their worn spines. She gave pause, unsure of if she had found the book she needed. No such luck. The search continued. As she turned to search another case, she almost ran into a girl, who seemed pursuing her own purpose in the stacks.

"Sorry," she said quietly; her voice was like a warm fleece blanket on a cold day.

The feeling inside was explicable. Unnerving. Exciting and scary, it made his blood pump and stopped him in his tracks, He couldn't move for fear of waking. For fear of not waking. He had finally made a break. Despite all of the things he had studied, all of these years he had searched for something supernatural, it was a girl that brought it all together. And he hadn't even talked to her about it. Not really.

His father had disappeared seven years ago on the new year. Not the usual New Year that most people think of but the Witches new year: all hallows eve, all saints day, Halloween. Creed has studied this holiday back to the early days when it first began. He has obsessed over it and every year he tries something else in hopes that he can find his father.

Halloween is supposedly the one night that the barrier between the living and the dead is weakest. It is said that the things that go bump in the night show their deceptive faces on this eve, that cults are based around the Pumpkin King. And Creed has learned and continues to learn more and more about it, in thought that maybe he can discover where his father has gone. But still for seven years: nothing. He hasn't lost hope, in fact it is the reason he can still keep moving. His father is Creed's whole reason for being. For living, working, learning, breathing. And that whole reason comes down to one word. It is the simplest of Man's needs, wants, instincts.

Revenge.

So Creed opened his palm, looked down at the folded piece of paper, unfolded it and read the pretty scribbles there. He knew where the address lead to. Knew the coffee shop on the corner of 23rd and Lark. Knew that the answers to his questions lay in the student he had met moments before. He didn't know how, he just knew that this girl, this Jessica, would be the first in his many steps to find the real. To find his Father.

She would lead him to the redemption he sought.

Creed strode with a purpose to his desk. He walked right past Chris and the other girl standing next to her without a glance. His cologne mixed with his skin left a delicious scent behind to catch their attention but his mind-set was not on picking up girls. He was on a mission.

Creed walked straight up to his desk and grabbed his jacket. He swung it around his shoulders and slipped his arms into the sleeves, not bothering to zip it up. With one hand he typed his codes into the computer, with the other he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and pulled one between his lips. Just as quickly as he was there he was striding to the main Library entrance. He threw the doors opened and stopped in the threshold, pulling out his lighter. Creed slid it down his jeans, setting the lighter aflame, and pulled it up to the tip of his cancer-stick, lighting it quickly before snapping his hand back and closing the Zippo. He took a deep drag and walked away, letting the doors close behind him.

The doors did not bang shut as their heavy cherry-oak wood might suggest, but slid quietly into place. Creed didn't care though, he simply walked up to his motor-cycle, got on and took off. The roar of the vehicle broke the mundane silence of campus nd left an echoing quiet when it was gone. He rode swiftly through the streets, knowing she would be ther before he got there no matter how fast he drove.

As Creed weaved in and out of traffic his thoughts raced. He had waited with baited breath for how long for a break through? He had searched for so long for this and it was waiting inside of some little girls mind? How is this possible? No matter, it was what it was. God was cruel, but he had learned that long ago. His gaze left the road momentarily to his left hand where scars from his past still lingered. They were old. Very old, but they never faded. If anything they grew closer to the color of bleached bone the longer they stayed. These scars marked the beginning of Creeds true life. Being born was of no matter, these marks were the start. They made him the man he is today.

His mother was first of course. She had said the wrong thing. And she was punished accordingly. She had the marks too.

No. He couldn't think about this right now. He needed to focus. His mother didn't matter anymore, she wasn't here. She would never come back. But his Father, he was so close now.

He was almost within Creeds grasp.

He pulled up into the parking lot of Study Helper, a college students coffee place where they served coffee and had small study rooms that you can rent at half price if you buy a coffee. Creed got off his bike and tossed his cigarette onto the ground, mashing it under the heel of his boot as he walked over it. The little bell rang when he opened the cafe door and a small blond girl greeted him cheerily. His eyes glanced around the large store for Jessica. She was all he needed.

For now, anyways.

Jessica was already at the cafe, her books tucked in her shoulder bag, which was sitting at her feet. She was perched on the edge of a chair by a corner table in Study Helper. The place was busy, but quiet, something she had liked from the very first time she had gone there, about two days ago. But despite the relaxed atmosphere, Jessica herself was tense and anxious.

She had met someone, someone who understood, who might actually believe her. She hadn't spoken about this in so long, not since the death of her parents, not since the world changed for her. She had seen. She could not go back. Could this man, could he possibly be the one to help her? She had come here, looking to disappear. Now, it seemed, life had a different plan for her. She tried to quell the butterflies in her stomach, when something cold and heavy sank in.

What if he didn't believe her? What if he thought she was crazy? What if he was going to tell someone about her, or worse, what if he was one of them. She almost didn't notice that she had stood, or that her hands automatically grabbed her bag and had it strapped over her shoulder. Her feet started moving of their own accord and she was heading for the front door when she saw him through a window, approaching.

'Oh no...oh no...calm down, Jessica. Breathe....he sounded sincere. I couldn't have been mistaken, no...he has to be....he must believe me...and he's alone. He hasn't brought anyone with him. Sit down, Jessica. Calm yourself. There's no need to run now....everything is fine. Smile.'

Her feet had carried her back to her chair, where she sat herself down, taking a calming breath as the bell announced his arrival. Her lips remembered to smile, even when her mind had come to a screeching halt. Oh yeah. Now she remembered why she had been so comfortable with him.

Creed's eyes landed on her. She stood in front of him, and he thought it was quite polite of her to meet him at the door. he immediately calmed the storm in his mind and heart when he sw her standing there, nervous and yet relaxing.

'This will be OK Creed, pull it together. You're acting like a total prat. There you go, walk calmly to her, and you're smiling. She's smiling too isn't that nice? Now, buy the lady some coffee and grill her for information! No . . . ask her nicely, be a gentleman, start with some small talk.'

"Hello, Jessica. It is nice to see you. I'm going to get myself a cup of coffee, may I get you anything?"

Creed was standing in front of her, but angled his body towards the Cafe where he was about to head. His stance, which had been very tense, had melted into a very calm and casual state. His voice flowed without a stutter and his smile could light a room.

The quiet atmosphere of the Cafe reminded him of his library. There were students speaking is private tones, the rustle of pages and the feeling of focus. Gentle music playing over the speakers enhanced the mood. The large display window in the front of the store flooded the Cafe with natural light and most of the clientele sat up here. But nearer to the back, where hallways led to the individual study rooms, it was a bit darker. Creed kept on eye on this area.

She felt that fluttering feeling again and smiled warmly at him, feeling a little more at ease now. Her heart wasn't pounding anymore, but rather, drumming out a jittery little tune that reminded her of the business at hand.

"Oh, no, thank you. I've had enough caffeine for one day, I think. But thank you for the offer. I'll go hold us a table," she said, smiling once more at him before she wove between people to the table she had snagged up before. Thankfully, nobody had occupied it yet, and she set her bag down, moving the chair leg so any thief would have to move her entire body weight if they were to snag her purse. She looked up, her eyes searching for Creed absent-mindedly, and then minding the dark shadows in doorways and corners. She was grateful for the big bay windows that let light flood in and brighten the place. It made the entire room feel warm, safe. She knew better, of course, but it was still a nice feeling.

Bending down, she opened her bag and pulled out a worn, unmarked book, with a beaten up leather cover. It was the color of dusty backroads and had a pretty metal lock that kept the contents secret. Clutching it tightly in her hands, she glanced up again to see if Creed had made his way to the counter yet. She didn't know this place could be so busy, which was a blessing and a curse sometimes. She couldn't pick him out of the crowd right now so she unlocked the book and opened to a marked page. The words were faded, but she knew what they would say. She hoped Creed would believe her. She had waited so long for this, she knew she wouldn't be able to handle it if this opportunity was snatched away from her now.

Christiana blinked once as she locked eyes with a girl, then twice as Creed swept by, seemingly without noticing her. She staggered against the bookcase and clutched at it for support.

"What happened to you?" This couldn't be real. Supernatural events, discussed like... like... like reality? So perfunctory, so matter of fact. Her mind tried to connect the two things, that seemed to her to be at opposite extremes of the spectrum. Supernatural, by definition, was unreality. Creed had sounded simply like an inmate speaking to another inmate. "What did you do, how did you get in here, what happened to you?" Creed wasn't crazy. At least, she didn't think so.

She tried again to link the two events in her brain. Discussing books on the supernatural, fine. Normal. Then suddenly, unreality. Acceptance of the supernatural as fact. And the girl agreed? Ran? Disagreed? Christiana was sure that she had said something, but it had been too quiet for her to hear. All she knew was that the girl had made a quick exit and Creed had swiftly followed. The book slipped from her fingers to hit the floor with a loud thump. Christiana started and looked down as it fell open to the section on UFO's. Her face turned to a scowl as she reached down and snapped it shut.

"Stop mocking me." She had known that section was there, she had read it before. UFO's did play a part in cold war tensions, each side thinking that they were some kind of superweapon devised by the other. It made sense that they would be covered, however briefly. But it did not make sense that the book would open to that by chance. With a growing sense of frustration she picked up the book and returned to the front of the library. If no one was there to check it out, she would put it back on the shelf and be done with it. She had had quite enough. She noticed that her hands were shaking slightly and resisted the urge to physically shout at herself, settling instead on gritting her teeth painfully.

"Damn you cosmic trickster, damn you." she muttered to herself. Oh she hated it, him, whatever force it was that played life with all these little cruel ironies. She tried to ignore them usually, but with her studies in history, and sometimes in her day to day life, it was simply shoved in her face. She was no mathmetician, but she knew that the odds of these things were simply astronomical. Yet at the same time she refused to accept that there was anything out there. Any guiding force, any god. But in times of extreme stress, she couldn't resist throwing a little hate his way, whatever he was.

"Can I have a coffee please? No, not a cappuccino. No . . . no I don't want the French Vanilla Latte. No, I just want a coffee. Plain. No, I said plain. No sugar or cream. Black!"

After the momentary argument with the new girl working, he made his way to the table. It was in the light from the window. 'So much for a dark table. Oh well, that will be fine.'

He sat down across from her, taking a few deep breaths before noticing the old journal she held in her hands. She was giving off a strange energy, like excitement, but . . . fear.

"Okay Jessica. I'm ready. hit me with your best shot."

She took a deep breath, her body tensing at the thought of finally letting these things out. She trembled a moment, but a few breaths calmed her enough to speak. She didn't look at him, as much as she wanted to. Her eyes were on the corners, the hallways, the doors. They searched the faces around them, her ears pricked and catching all the voices that filled the room. She arranged herself to look nonchalant, as if they were discussing nothing more than a story in a newspaper or the latest game that played on television.

"When I was young...I used to have nightmares. Not just bad dreams, but horrible, vicious nightmares. And they...they seemed so...so real...and I didn't know what to make of it. My parents didn't think much of it at first, but then I started seeing things in the daytime...when I was awake...and they started to get worried about me. Started talking about...clinics...and...and special hospitals...So I stopped talking about the things I saw. I let them believe I was 'all better' again. It wasn't until I turned eighteen that I started to understand. Things I saw, things I dreamt...they were real. They came in the night, and my mother let them in. I was upstairs, when I heard the screaming. When I got to the bottom of the stairs, they had her in their arms...and their mouths...were so dark and red. And the smell...the sight of my mother...I think I would have passed out, but something told me to stay awake. I had to see. They were monsters, Creed, real monsters. In my home, right in front of me. I never really believed until that moment..."

She took a moment to steady her voice, which had gradually gotten shaky, the longer she spoke. Her gaze fell to the worn book in her hands and she squeezed it slightly. As if taking strength from it, she raised her gaze to meet Creed's, and continued, her voice still just a whisper that one would have to strain to hear above all the noise.

"They were vampires, but those aren't all. That book, with the demon? I'm willing to bet at least half of the creatures in there exist. And at least half of those probably live among us, unseen, unnoticed. They're here, even, in this city. They're everywhere, and nobody even realizes. I thought I had escaped it when I moved here, but it's even worse than back home..."

She paused a moment, looking up, suddenly alert. Her gaze fixed on the door, where someone had just entered.

Christiana dropped her book on the front desk with a sigh of disgust and a shake of her head. Still no one here. She looked at the man she had spoken to before and shrugged helplessly. She looked down at the book again before turning away in disgust. She was sick of it now, she didn't even want to look at it.

Turning away she shoved her hands in her pockets and trudged out of the library. Her headache was coning back with a vengance. As she approached her car she massaged her forehead again. She would take more painkillers, but she didn't want to overdose. She sat down on the hood of her car and rubbed at her temples fiercely, letting out a low groan.

This, was quite simply, not her day. Part of her wanted to go home, curl up in bed and think no more about it. Yet... She had to admit that there was a part of her that was curious. A part of her that truly wanted to know what Creed and that girl had been talking about, what HAD happened to them. To share her note with them, show them all the things, all the discrepancies she had found. She shook her head violently to dispell the thoughts and slid off the hood of her car. Fumbling for her keys she brushed against a piece of paper and pulled it out curiously.

It was a coupon for a local coffee shop and she blinked at it for a moment. "Tea? That might help this headache..." she mused, but thoughts of tea led her back to thoughts of Creed and thought of Creed led her back to the source of her headache. With another shake of her head she slipped into the car and started it up. It wasn't new, but it was in good shape and got her where she needed to go; it was the work of mere minutes to get to the coffee shop.

As she parked she couldn't help but feel a slight prickling on the back of her neck. She slipped out of her care and came face to face with a motorcycle that she could have sworn she had seen at the library when she entered. She closed her eyes and sighed, trying to convince herself that it meant nothing. Locking her car she approached the coffee shop with a growing feeling of dread.

There was a slight jingle of the bell on the door as she pushed it open and glanced around. Busy place, but she didn't see anyone she recognised. Relaxing slightly she approached the counter and paced an order for an herbal tea before turning to scan the shop as she waited.

"Careful, Chris just walked in. I met her at the library. Nice girl but . . . I do not think she believes in the Vampyre. Ad you are sure that's what you saw? That they were Vampires? the description sounds very much like what I have read . . . but to know that they were real. That is a wonder. Your story is fascinating, that they came into your house and you saw them. they actually bit from the victim's neck? they must have been beautiful creatures . . ."

Creed had been talking swiftly and becoming excited in his accented speech. But then he realized what he was saying. The 'victim's' had been her parents. The creatures were most likely monsters in her eyes. He must have sounded like a monster too.

"I am . . . I am terribly sorry. I became enthralled and forgot my manners. I am sorry for your loss, and to speak of it in such a way is disgusting of me. But you must understand, I have searched for proof of the supernatural for seven years. I have hungered for it for so long and here you are, a strange prophet sent to give me my strength back. Your dreams, nightmares . . . visions. Yes, were they visions? Did you foresee the murder? I am sorry, I do not mean to be rude but . . . is it possible?"

As he spoke he wouldn't look her in the eye. He knew that he had offended her and was ashamed. Or at least, he pretended to be. To blend in with the normal people of society Creed had learned to feign the feelings he was expected to feel. So even though he felt no remorse for having said what he had about her family, he knew that he must pay lip-service to make it right again. He had learned this from an early age, before his mother died. She taught him.

But his eyes kept landing back upon Chris, unconsciously trying to catch her eye, as if he wanted her to come and sit with them. He couldn't explain it, but Creed had a feeling that she was a part of this. And then the memory clicked into place.

'I walked by her at the library. She was so very close to where I had been standing. I barely noticed her and didn't bother even to say hello. But she was surprised. She didn't expect me to notice her. She had been spying. But, how much had she heard?'

His eyes searched for hers, as if he could see her thoughts. But Creed knew that telepathy was not necessary. If she had been eaves dropping he would be able to see it on her face. the subtle coloring of the cheeks, neck and nose, her eyes would meet his then flutter away only to come back once more. And her stance . . . she would be nervous, anxious or even worried. Reading others emotions is very handy when searching for a . . . date. Creed had learned in the library that she was not a social person. The way she angered easily, became frustrated over the smallest of things and was not good at getting her points across. This meant that she would have even less practice at hiding her feelings.

'Human's are books. Easy to read. Only a few have locks, but I know how to find the right key.'

Christiana's eyes roamed the cafe before locking with Creed's. She resisted the urge to slam her head into a blunt object, but only just. This was not working! She had come here to get away from the insanity. And he had seen her as well clearly, so there would be no easy escape from this. She might be able to fake her way out, pretend she didn't want to intterupt... Her eyes flickered over to his companion, his date. A small smile twitched at the corner of her lips as she turned to accept her tea from the clerk.

Leaning on the counter she sipped slowly at her mug before letting out a contented sigh. Considerably more relaxed, she locked eyes with Creed again and raised an eyebrow slightly. She was just here at the coffee shop. If he was on a date and didn't want her around he should stop staring at her. It wasn't her fault that she happened to pick the same coffee shop he was in. For that matter, it wasn't her fault if she had overheard his conversation either. His replacement hadn't shown up, and she had gone to find him. It was a public place after all.

She sipped at her tea again as she cemented that decision in her mind. She had done nothing wrong. It was a perfectly natural series of events, and after all, he was the one staring at her.

She bit her lip slightly when she saw the girl enter. She recognized her from the library as she had been leaving. She was dangerously close to where they had been talking and she suspected the girl might have been eavesdropping. How much had she heard? Her thoughts were pulled away from the incident as Creed started to ask questions about the night. She dropped her voice, if possible, even more. The last thing she needed was this girl to hear more than she already had. After all, this was personal.

"I am certain. Creed...I have researched them for four years, ever since that night. They were Vampires."

She grimaced slightly as he spoke excitedly, but she tried to maintain her composure.

"They were...they were very beautiful...more beautiful than any creature I've ever seen, man or beast. They bit her neck, but from all that I have read, they are not restricted to that area. They can suck a person dry from any part of their body, but the blood flow is thickest in the neck. You needn't apologize, Creed. I understand how this must be to an outsider, especially one like yourself, searching so long for something like this. I wish it could have come to me in another way, but the past is past. They are dead, and no amount of wishing or self-pity is changing that."

She took a moment to digest the rest of his questions before answering them, thinking hard back onto her past and what things she did see back then before she knew what they were. It was all such a mess in her head; sometimes it was hard to sort those dreams from regular dreams, the waking and the sleeping, reality and fiction.

"They might have been visions of another place, another time. But I never saw anyone I knew in them. Only monsters. Only demons. I never saw my parent's murder. It's hard to separate the dreams from my waking moments, especially after I started seeing things during the day. Beasts and specters, monsters, demons, fiends. It all just kind of runs together."

"The vampires were really just the start. When I learned of them, I learned of others, other creatures that fit the dreams I had been having. And in the daytime, even then, I would see them, when I was awake. Not dreams or hallucinations, but in the flesh. So to speak. I don't know if they knew I was aware. I tried not to betray it, lest I become their next victim."

She trailed off, noticing his gaze flitting elsewhere. She scanned the crowd, expecting a fiend or an unnatural being, but all she saw was that girl. She tried to avoid catching her eye, but she let her eyes search around the girl. Was she alone? It appeared so. A flash of white distracted her from her search for a moment, but when she looked back, the girl was still alone. Drinking tea. She looked back at Creed, raising an eyebrow slightly.

"What is it? Do you see something?" she asked quietly, but not in the hushed voice she had been using before.

"Yes . . . and no. Christiana is here as I stated before. I am certain that she heard our conversation in the library. And I feel now as if she is challenging me to invite her to sit with us. I know what you speak of is personal . . . but she followed us here so we must not have scared her. Maybe she too is a believer?"

Creed's eyes narrowed as he spoke, bu a glimmer of hope resided in either while his eyes pierced into Jessica's.

Christiana glanced around the coffee shop again, breaking eye contact with Creed. Her decision to lounge near the counter was more then stylish, it was primarily functional. Most of the tables were taken or at least marked by bags while their owners ordered or moved around. The nearest free seat was next to a large man who was leering at everyone near him. She just did not feel comfortable about going to sit there. Encourageing guys like him just seemed like a bad idea to her.

With a quiet sigh she shifted and took another sip of her drink. All in all, the coffee shop was calming her rattled nerves. The smells, the gentle rhythm of the crowd... It was all, undoubtedly, normal. She smiled slightly as she took a longer sip then pulled away quickly, gasping slightly. She had underestimated how hot the tea was. She took a deep breath to cool her tounge before casually glancing back at Creed. Was he still staring at her?

Jessica narrowed her eyes at the girl, looking her up and down briefly while she was occupied with looking around the cafe. She frowned and bit her lip in thought. This was probably not a good idea, and she didn't feel comfortable sharing such information with a stranger. And while Creed was a bit of a stranger, they had a connection; she could feel it.

"I don't know, Creed. If she was listening in on our conversation and if she was a believer, why didn't she speak up? Why was she hiding? And why doesn't she approach us? I don't have a good feeling about it. I don't know what she's doing here, but I don't think it's to talk to us about the supernatural."

She sighed a little, dropping her gaze to the book in her hands and fiddling with the clasp. She lowered her voice a bit more, though she was fairly certain in all this noise, nobody would pay attention, let alone hear her.

"And I wouldn't feel comfortable, talking to her about...this. I mean, I trust you. I don't know why entirely...."

She paused. No, she knew why. Something about him put her at ease, something made it easy to share these things. They had a common interest. No, not interest. A common drive, a common obsession. He knew things, he understood. This girl, she was on outsider. Unknown factor. Plus she wasn't going to kid herself; she felt just the tiniest bit jealous that Christiana might take Creed's attention away, and that was not a thing she liked, even if it wasn't for her to claim. She pressed on.

"...but I don't trust her. Not until we know she is a believer, at least. You can call her over, if you really want to, but we should find out if she's like us before talking to her about certain things...We need to keep a low profile about this stuff, after all."

Her eyes skimmed the room briefly before landing on Creed again, dropping her voice even lower, leaning forward.

"You never know what is listening..."

"Hm. You are correct. However, I know just the thing."

Creed turned his eyes to Chris and gave her a half-grin. His lopsided smile could melt ice and usually is what won the women over that he brought home to . . . play. He figured Chris would feel the same, having already shown interest and following him to the shop.

"Hey Chris, come over here and sit with us." He spoke just loud enough to let her hear him, knowing that she was waiting for a signal from him.

'I come off as completely self-centered even to myself' Creed thought.

'But that's where I'm different from others. Everything in nature is focused on itself. Just because we put on pretty facades to fool ourselves into thinking that we are better does not mean that we are. Bring someone enough pain and the self-indulgent pig always rears it's beautiful head.'

Quickly, before Chris approached, Creed leaned in close and whispered to Jessica.

"Do not worry, I mean only to be here for you. However if she knows anything I must know about it immediately. Keep friends close . . ."

He let his voice trail off and then looked up expectantly to where he thought she would be by now.



The store bell dinged as students grabbed their bags and coffee before rushing out the doors. The dull roar ceased to exist and was replaced by a gentle murmuring occasionally rippled with a soft chuckle or gentle chime of the door. The bright sunlight coming in through the wide window at the front of the store began to shrink away and clouds came to replace blue skies.

The change in weather was rather rapid considering the storm had not been forecast until later in the evening. The rain was held at bay, as if waiting until everyone had gotten to a building before beginning it's cleansing ritual.

Out of the quiet a clock sang the time: 2:00 PM.

Christiana blinked at Creed in surprise. She had not been expecting that. As the students left she looked longingly at some of the now vacated tables. She could pretend that she hadn't heard him... claim a table for herself, finish her tea, go home and try to forget about her day. But she was looking right at him when he called out to her, he knew she had heard. Cursing to herself a bit she walked over to where Creed and the girl were sitting, but stood over them instead of sitting, not just yet.

"I would have thought that you didn't want me to interrupt your... date? You don't need to invite me to be courteous, I'm a big girl, I'll be fine." She carefully skirted around the topic she was fairly sure he wanted to talk about. She would have thought that he would be mad if he realized that she had overheard him, but he seemed to be smiling quite pleasantly.

She turned her attention to the girl and gave her a friendly nod, though with a slightly raised eyebrow. She was sure that the girl knew she had been there. Perhaps she would broach the topic, if it was planned to broach it at all.

Jessica raised her eyebrows in turn at the girl, mimicking her expression before cracking a smile. She broke eye contact first, putting the book she had clasped in her hands back into her bag before looking back up at the girl, smiling. She wanted to say something about the date comment, but she really rather hear what Creed had to say about it. Instead she slid easily out of her chair and snagged a chair from an unoccupied table and scooted it next to Chris before sitting back down in her own chair.

"Why don't you sit down? I don't think we've properly met yet," she said, a hint of mischief in her voice, "My name is Jessica."

She held a hand out for the girl to shake while maintaining eye contact with her. She was curious about what Creed was up to, and even more curious about what kind of person this girl was. Did she believe like they did? If she did, why did she not say so? Jessica waited expectantly for the woman's name, her extended hand hanging in the air between them.

(terribly sorry, I must have misread earlier, and with Tykonaughtica's earlier post in OOC I thought I had been accepted my fault I should have read more carefully)

((Thank you.))