Second attempt at Blood on the Ice, small change in tense (present to past) and narrator (Hi Alek!)
So, you want to see a vampire story? You want something romantic, something dark and broody? A tale about a forbidden love? a tale about redemption for the wicked?
You will be served...But remember, there's always a price, One you don't want to pay...
Prologue: A walk in the night
Three years ago
The first time I met him, it was in late November, the last shred of daylight was already gone even if it wasn't so late in the evening. Outside, it was cold, the wind howled menacingly as it passed through the narrow streets and alley that separated the many buildings of downtown. A quick look in my pockets had told me I did have enough to ride the bus back home from school that evening and so I had to walk home.
Even in the cold and darkness of the night, it was very much alive, cars everywhere carrying people back home, on the sidewalk, people were staying in small groups, trying to keep warm as they smoked a cigarette before going back into whatever bar or restaurant they were spending their Friday night in.
I was almost there when a barred road and sidewalk, left there by a apparently lazy construction crew forced me to take a detour, which was technically a short cut, into an alley. I walked carefully inside, glancing at the black cat that rummaged the nearby trashcan for something to eat. A little further in the alley, an aging light bulb lazily flashed as it lived it's last moments.
After a moment, I heard a commotion and the back door to a nearby establishment opened, a guy getting thrown out and falling down the handful of steps that lead to the door and onto the asphalt, hitting his head with an audible thud. Two more guys, walked out of the building, dressed in tight black leather, one with a red Mohawk and the other shaved like a skinhead.
The first of them jumped down the stairs in one fluid movement and rammed his steeltoed boots right down the man's ribs, ramming it like a soccer player hitting a ball. The man grunted and slid back across the ground for a few meters before hitting the wall of another building.
"I don't know who the fuck you think you are bud, but nobody comes in and mess with Lukav!" The skinhead said, sitting on the guy's chest, holding his chin before raining a flurry of blow. "You got that, Compris, Capiche, Comprendo or do I need to say it in motherfucking Chinese?" He declared.
The guy on the floor snickered painfully and muttered something that I couldn't hear but seemed like it wasn't what the man had wanted to hear since he grabbed him by the scalp and smashed his head against the concrete.
I took out my phone, walking closer and announced; "I'm calling the cops." I dialed just as they threw a glare at me. "This is seriously none of your concern, little girl. Why don't you just walk away and forget that you've ever seen anything?" He said, his eyes locking into mine, a predatory glow filling them.
My heart was racing but the 911 operator came on. "Nine one one, what is your emergency?"
"There's a street fight in the alley between St Hellen and McGill, it's at the level of St. Maurice. There's someone on the ground, bleeding profusely."
The two thugs both lat out angered snarls and they spoke to the man on the ground. "This isn't over. You better never set foot in our crib ever again." The mohawked man claimed as they turned tail and ran.
"Are you alright?" I asked, walking closer to the man, who smelled of blood and alcohol. He struggled a bit, let out a pained grunt and managed to sit down, leaning against the nearest building.
"I'm fine... You shouldn't have done that, you really don't want to mess around with that kind of guys." He declared.
"They were going to kill you." I replied, halfway shocked, but also knowing he'd play the tough guy. "You need to go to the hospital, you might have a concussion and there's a huge gash on your head that's bleeding pretty badly." I searched around my school bag until I found the gym towel which I handed him.
He lifted himself up to his feet and pressed the towel against his bloodied scalp. "I have to get home, you should do the same, and please don't speak to the cops, I don't want to get anyone involved in this whole mess." He started to walk away, rather slowly as he limped lightly when I called him out.
"Wait, what's your name?"
He turned around and considered me for a moment before answering. "Nathan. Now shoo! Get back home or to your favorite café or whatever, just so long as you don't linger in these streets any longer."