You wanted yet more flash fiction, right? yes? no? maybe? Well even if you didn't, tough, here more is. The latest Wendig challenge is restricted to a mere 500 hundred words rather than 1000 which proved surprisingly tricky (especially as two of my previous stories weighed in under that). The challenge (if you didn't follow the link) was to pick a cocktail and use it as the title of the story. Tempted as I was to go with something smutty, I eventually picked Bloody Mary on the grounds that I thought it made a interesting title, and certainly not because I like the drink - if you ask me, tomatoes should stick to things they're good at, like being pizza toppings and not get any fancy ideas about messing up my vodka, but on the other hand it takes all sorts and if you like that sort of thing at least it leaves more Tia Maria for me... Annnnyway, story:
It ended in a bar, the last of the creatures flashing into fire and dust. The girl cocked her head towards the jukebox, listening as the last chords of Sympathy for the Devil faded into nothing "Do you know my name?" she asked.
The barman cowered against his display of bottles, staring, wide-eyed at the mounds of ash, all that was left of the evening crowd "B-bloody Mary."
She smiled, a blunt-toothed, human smile "That's right." she said, she stalked towards him "And do you know what I want?" she didn't bother to wait for a reply, instead she vaulted the bar and slammed him against the display "Where the hell is Xane?"
It began in a bar as well, a dimly lit club, Stoker's Angels. Years younger, her hair dyed black, she'd called herself Magdalene. There had been dancing and drunken flirtation, when Xane's fangs had turned out to be real she'd thought her dreams had come true. It hadn't lasted, she'd thought him gentle, beautiful, loving, but blood loss wasn't the romantic bliss she imagined. Week by week she faded away.
She'd woken in the hospital, cold and alone, on the bedside table a dozen bright red roses, the card simply said "I'm sorry." and that was all. She'd kept the roses long after they shrivelled and died but he didn't visit, wouldn't answer the phone when she called. A month passed, and then another but Mary didn't forget her lover, she asked at the club, found others like it, kept looking, eventually someone gave her address.
On a grey spring morning she'd knocked on a door. He looked sad when he answered, guilty "I can't see you anymore." he said "I almost killed you."
She'd begged him to change his mind, pleaded until her voice was hoarse. Eventually she walked away, heartbroken and sobbing, through her tears she saw a woman, wreathed in cigarette smoke.
The woman had sneered "Did he tell you you were special? Did you think he would make you one of them?" she'd laughed at Mary's expression "Can't have paid too much attention in biology class then, can you? Couple of love bites aren't going to turn you into something you're not."
Mary remembered that woman, almost more than she remembered Xane, the bitterness of his betrayal still stung, but it was the mockery that drove her fury.
The barman swallowed nervously "Hell's about right lady." he said "Xane's dead."
Mary released him "What? How?" she asked, she paused "When?"
"Must be six or eight months now." he told her "It was an overdose, always is with the blood junkies."
Mary frowned, uncertain, hurt, confused "Blood junkie?""What else would you call it? they get addicted to the high but it kills them in the end." the barman watched Mary's face as the anger drained away and tears of loss trickled into the gap it left behind "Didn't you know?" he asked gently "Blood is poisonous to vampires."