Page 6 of The HalloQueen

“Oh, are you?” I raised my brow at her.

“Obviously. You have shorter skirts than I do.”

I laughed, “If you need something to wear, go to the storeroom and pick something out. You know all you have to do is leave me a list of what you take.”

“We should wear stuff for the new launch to get some attention. Couldn’t hurt, right? A drunk girl stumbles up and is all ‘Oh Em Gee, I love your dress’ and we can be like, ‘thanks! It’s from HalloQueens, here’s a card’ and then BAM - tax deductible drinks. It’s a foolproof plan.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Shut the fuck up. Let’s go shopping.” She crawled out from under the desk on her hands and knees, stood awkwardly, and headed toward the inventory boxes with a little spring in her step. “Also, let's go home early. I’m meeting him at five, so I’d rather go get freshened up and stuff.”

“Shannon, you got here late!” I scolded her, not actually caring if we ducked out a little early on a Friday.

“Come on, boss!”

“Fine, but I get to wear the black skater skirt and the sheer and solid dotted tights.”

“Lame! Fine.” She started looking at the pictures on the boxes trying to find different styles to try on.

“You shop, I’m going to go film a few more posts and schedule them so if I’m hungover it doesn’t kill my algorithm.”

“Seriously? You can’t just exist without thinking about work? It’s Friday night, no one is looking at their feeds.”

I gasped loudly in mock outrage, “HalloQueens is my baby! I can’t even take a shit without worrying about it. Give me half an hour to film and then we will get out of here to go get ready. I’d rather have too many posts than not enough. Deal?”

“Fine, fine… your ring light is by my desk.”

I stopped and slowly turned to her, “and why is my ring light by your desk?”

She froze and gave me a coy smile, “don’t ask questions that you don’t want answered, boss.”

“God help me.”

4

THOMAS

I’d lost my mind. I’d positively lost my mind. Since Annabel left the store that morning, I had talked myself out of texting her half a dozen times. The thirst she ignited within me was all-consuming and the ridiculous teenagers coming in and out of the store trying to steal eyelashes and plastic fangs had burnt my fuse to nothing. If I wasn’t careful, I would end up hurting someone. Not that I’d eat them - let’s not forget the body spray incident, but if someone pushed me too far I would snap, and subsequently snap them in half.

I’d finally called uncle at six, closing the store an hour early, and retired to the curtained area where I’d blown up a double high air bed to crash. I had everything I needed, my game console, tv, a fridge full of blood bags, and a place to sleep, but it was a far cry from the luxurious row house in Boston that Yusuf, Monique, and I had shared for many years. We’d each had our own room as well as a shared primary suite with a custom-made bed for the nights where we all wished to lay together. I remembered that Monique had commissioned it specifically to feel like you were sleeping on a cloud, but firm enough that you could fuck as hard as you wanted without sinking into the foam.Memories.

Contrary to popular young adult fiction, we could sleep. A lot of us had adapted over the years to stay up overnight since it was easier to hunt in the dark, but we certainly didn’t explode in daylight. Well, not my kind anyway. The Dracula type, called the Undead, existed and could only come out at night, turning into a bat to sleep in dark hidden spaces during the day and was repelled by spiritual items, but we weren’t locked into the same rules as them. An Undead was merely a vampire that had lost its balance and was deteriorating into dust. A vampire could be born from an Undead and become Undead themselves, or they could become an Undead from a lack of harvesting. Monique, Yusuf, and I were known commonly as Vampires, and our lives were entirely dependent on harvesting a delicate balance of blood and energy to refrain from turning Undead. The energy of mortals, either emotional or physical, needed to be harvested to maintain balance, and to be able to remain in the daylight. It also made us a little more indestructible than our decrepit counterparts. Falling to the Undead had been on my mind a lot since my partners had left, often fearing that they'd met that fate, or that without them back, it would be me that did.

Just like the movies, if bitten, a mortal could turn into an energy vampire, but anything was able to fall down the path to the Undead. Unfortunately, Undead vampires could bite mortals or Other creatures and turn them immediately into another Undead, making Others unwilling to mix company. For now, the store was a perfect front for energy harvesting as I could transfix patrons long enough to drain them and send them on their way without having to hunt.

I never killed on an energy harvest, but I would take enough to make someone tired or depressed through light touches, like handing someone their credit card. Monique always preferred sexual energy, harvesting lust, and fear during the haunted walking tours or by going clubbing with Yusuf where they could get blood and lust simultaneously. They always wanted me to join them, but as comfortable I was in our triad, harvesting random lust always felt uncouth to me. It made me feel dirty, like I was inviting any mortal into our bed.

I laid on the air mattress, drinking a bag through a straw, and remembered how Monique would stumble into the house, reeking of booze and dark lust. I’d never been able to sleep next to her on those nights. The number of times she came home high on lust that had spurred from bad intentions made me uncomfortable. Sure, they probably prevented something bad from happening, and Yus always claimed that the nights they’d harvested dark lust resulted in the most mind-blowing sex for the two of them, but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I didn’t want that energy in my body.

Between the curiosity eating me alive in desperation to know more about Annabel, and remembering her ginger and citrus scent, as well as the potent perfume of young and dark lust on Monique, my cock was aching. I hadn’t enjoyed bodily pleasures in a year, since before they left, and I’d had no desire to touch myself apart from a few angry instances in the shower where I imagined myself fucking Monique’s deceptive throat so hard she was crushed against the tile, but the release never felt good - it just left me hungry and in need of more energy.

My mind wandered and my usual image of Monique melted away to one of Annabel on her knees. I quickly opened my phone and searched the internet for Annabel Williams. The page rendered the HalloQueens boutique website she’d mentioned as well as multiple social media platforms and news articles praising the inclusivity of the brand. I clicked on her most active social media channel and, by the moon, if my heart could beat, it would have stopped. There, on the internet, for everyone to see, was Annabel’s delicious body.

Hundreds of videos scrolled across my feed showing her dancing, lip-syncing over sounds, and doing mini fashion shows. She must have been wearing her boutique’s clothes in them all since it was the official HalloQueens page, but fuck. A mortal woman had no reason to look that tantalizing. A notification popped up, showing that she had just posted a new video and I clicked on it to see her dancing in a loud bar. The text laying over the clip stated that the HalloQueens were at Witchcraft in downtown Quaker's Wharf wearing some of the new fall line, and if you found them, you’d get a code to a pre-sale of their autumn line’s launch.

I had no interest in a coupon code for women’s clothes, but when I tapped to the next video, I was greeted by Annabel’s plump behind. I could feel my dick straining against my zipper, suddenly desperate for attention, and feeling as if the last year of missed ejaculations had to be remedied in the next few moments or I would explode. I watched clip after clip of her ass in pairs of cheeky panties with her thumbs pulling them higher onto her hips and looking over her shoulder while biting her lip. I devoured every dimple and stretchmark over her luscious cheeks and curves, feeling the beast in me rattle his cage again as if I was no better than a newborn, ravenous for energy and blood while giving fuck-all about the consequences. Sliding to the next video, my fangs elongated watching Annabel spin in a skirt so short that you could see the bottom curve of her ass. I couldn't contain the possessive growl that emerged from me when I paused the image to get a better look at the giant tattoo on her meaty thigh. My girl.Mon coeur. She had a fucking raven tattoo. I was literally branded onto her skin and she didn’t even know it. My ears roared and the beast slammed against his cage with desperate snarls. I couldn't stop the word from tumbling out of me, for I knew it was true down to my very bones.

Mine.

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