Chapter 4: The Copy Center Clerk
The parking lot smelled of cold asphalt, burnt coffee, and the faint chemical tang of the copy machines that bled through the building's vents. Nancy leaned against the shadow of a delivery van, arms crossed, watching the glass doors of the All-Night Copy Center slide shut behind their prey.
Carol stood beside her, eyes fixed on the woman fumbling with her keys. She was younger than Nancy had anticipated, maybe late twenties, with a messy bun of dark hair and tired eyes framed by thin glasses. She wore a gray cardigan that hung loose over a floral blouse, sensible shoes that had seen too many shifts. The keyring slipped from her fingers, clattered on the ground, and she let out a long, exhausted sigh.
Nancy heard everything. The thud of the keys. The rustle of the woman's cardigan as she bent down. The slow, weary thump of her heart, a steady drum that sang to Nancy's teeth.
"You see it?" Nancy murmured, her voice low against Carol's ear. "She's already half gone. Her mind's numb, her body's running on fumes. Easy."
Carol's hand tightened on Nancy's arm, her nails pressing in just enough to sting. "She's perfect."
"Go on, then. You earned this."
Carol peeled away from the van's shadow, moving with the fluid grace that had come to her over the past two nights. She approached the woman with a heel that clicked softly on the pavement, a deliberate, human sounding step. The clerk looked up, startled, and Nancy watched her pulse quicken in her throat.
"Oh," the woman said, clutching her keys to her chest. "You scared me. Did you need something? We just closed. I can't, I mean, the machines, they're already off, but if you need copies tomorrow, I'll be here at, um, seven for the morning run, or, actually, do you have a card, because we do special pricing for, for, sorry, I'm babbling, I'm so tired, I keep talking to myself in the break room, my boss says, he says I should get more sleep, but someone has to cover the late shift, right? It's not like anyone else wants it."
Her mouth kept moving even as her body sagged against the driver's door. Carol didn't rush. She closed the distance with a grace that looked almost casual, one hand rising to touch the woman's cardigan sleeve.
"You look exhausted," Carol said, and her voice had a velvet warmth to it, none of the hunger that Nancy could feel radiating from her. "You should go home, put your feet up."
"I should. I really should." The woman laughed, a weak, fluttering sound. "I keep saying that. But then I get here the next night and it's the same thing. Just me and the machines and the buzzing lights."
Carol stepped closer, and Nancy moved silently behind them, circling wide so the clerk wouldn't see her coming. The woman's eyes stayed locked on Carol's face, on those faintly glowing crimson irises that most humans couldn't quite parse in the half dark. They just felt drawn in, hypnotized.
"I could help you with that," Carol said, her hand sliding from the woman's sleeve to her throat, fingers brushing the tender skin just below her jaw. "I know a way to make all that tiredness go away."
The woman's breath hitched. "What, like, a, a spa? I can't afford, I mean, my insurance, it's a high deductible, and my copay alone, you wouldn't believe, and honestly I haven't taken a vacation in three years, and, oh."
The oh was soft, wondering, as Carol's fangs descended and her grip tightened. Nancy watched from six feet away, arms crossed, a possessive warmth curling in her chest as Carol's mouth pressed to the curve of the woman's neck.
The clerk's body went rigid, a sharp gasp cutting through the parking lot's hum. Carol didn't flinch. Her hands moved with practiced certainty, one cradling the woman's skull, tilting her head back, the other pressed flat against her spine to keep her upright. The first swallow was audible, a thick, wet sound that made Nancy's own throat burn with sympathetic hunger.
"Good," Nancy breathed, stepping closer. "Slow. Savor it."
Carol's hips pressed the woman against her car door, and the clerk's legs buckled, grasping weakly at Carol's shoulders. Her mouth opened in a silent, strained moan, fingers clawing at Carol's cardigan without ever really fighting. The heartbeat went from weary and slow to frantic, a bird battering against a window, and Nancy could taste the metallic sweetness on the air.
"That's it," Nancy murmured, coming to stand at Carol's side, her hand coming up to stroke the woman's cheek. The clerk looked at her with glassy, confused eyes, pupils blown wide, lips parted. "You're doing so well. Just let it happen."
The woman's mouth worked, trying to form words that wouldn't come. Her body arched against the car, a shudder running through her hips, and Nancy saw a dark patch bloom on the front of her slacks. The poor thing was leaking, her body betraying her in a rush of heat that had nothing to do with fear.
Nancy grinned, fangs glinting in the neon glow. "Look at that. She likes it."
Carol pulled back with a wet, satisfied sound, her lips smeared crimson. She dragged the back of her hand across her mouth, those new eyes brighter than Nancy had ever seen them. "God. She's so sweet. Like honey."
"Finish her off. Then we bring her home."