CALYPSO
Humans are a nuisance. A necessary but annoying nuisance. Calypso rants on in his mind about how enjoyable it would be to drain every single body in the minuscule village of Mountaintop just because he can. He can imagine the glee it would bring his concubines to set them loose. It has been awhile since he let them have such fun. As Calypso parks his classic Aston Martin DB5 beside the tiny Urgent Care, he shoots a staring passerby a foul look. The human male ducks his head and hurries across the town square.
After raising the top of his convertible, Calypso smooths out his coat and starts toward the Care center. He's greeted by an overwhelming smell of antibacterial cleaning supplies and the sweet, earthy scent of three different humans. A woman dressed in a faded fabric dress sits in the waiting room with a toddler in her lap. She eyes him with curiosity but looks away when their gazes meet. Calypso turns towards the receptionist, relieved that he's terrified his second human for the day.
"Good morning," the older man behind the counter greets. "Do you have an appointment, sir?"
"Melody is expecting me," Calypso says. He lifts his chin and glares down his nose at the man.
"Give me one moment and I will grab her for you."
"Save yourself the effort. I will walk myself to her office."
The man blinks at him, stunned by his carelessness. "Uh, sir, I can't let you—"
Before he can finish and incite the wrath of Calypso's growing impatience, the door leading into the clinic opens. Melody's familiar weathered face appears.
"Mr. Everworth," she calls to him. "Right this way."
Calypso takes his time glowering at the imbecile behind the desk before crossing to the door. Melody welcomes him in and flinches as he passes her without regard. He hears her heart rate pick up as she follows him to her office in the back. It brings a sadistic smile to his face.
They enter her office and Calypso posts himself beside her desk. The woman closes the door before moving to the chair behind her desk. Her perfume and the natural scent of the blood pulsing through her veins intensifies. Despite practicing centuries of restraint, Calypso voluntarily stops breathing so the intoxicating scent won't overcome him.
"You'll have to excuse Bryan," she tells Calypso. Her eyes are fixed on his forehead, probably so she doesn't have to meet his eyes. "He's new and still learning the ins and outs of the—"
"My medication, Melody."
The woman nods her head of perfectly permed orange hair. "Of course, sir. Right here."
She turns a key to the locked drawer in her desk and pulls out a bottle of pain killers. Before she slides it over to him, her trembling hands retrieve a syringe and a set of empty glass vials. Calypso shrugs his coat off and begins rolling up his sleeve.
"And you can assure me that you are still not taking the pills yourself?" she asks him, her voice high and shrill.
Calypso turns his cold eyes onto her. "You would know by now if there was an addictive opioid in my blood. More than half of your patients would be dead instead of perfectly alive and well."
Nodding her head again, she pushes the vials across the desk to him but keeps the syringe on her side. Calypso is unfazed by the potential weapon. He lifts the almost translucent skin of his exposed wrist to his mouth, extends one of his fangs to create an opening, and then drips his precious black blood into the vials. When the opening begins to close, he uses his fingers to keep it open. At this point, he doesn't even feel the pain. Once each of the vials are brimming with the dark, viscous liquid, he lets the gash in his wrist reseal and rolls his sleeve down. Melody grabs the vial set and screws the cap onto each one. Calypso dons his coat again and then grabs the bottle of Percocet before Melody can blink.
"This time next month," he tells her on his way out the door.
He sucks in a long breath at last and allows the fresh mountain air to cleanse the blood lust from his body. Per his usual monthly routine, Calypso goes back to his convertible and slides in. He doesn't like to be around humans any longer than strictly necessary. For one, they are slow, curious little pests. It doesn't help that their blood sings to him like an irresistible siren. If he didn't have to sate Katrina's addiction to keep her by his side, he would never come to the wretched village to begin with. How his darling concubine has remained addicted after her transition behooves him, as he has never met a vampire capable of addiction outside the usual bloodlust. Nevertheless, he will do whatever it takes to please his loved ones.
Before Calypso can burn rubber out of the single stop-sign town, a curious aroma finds its way into his hypersensitive nostrils. The scent is human but much sweeter than normal. His hands clench around the steering wheel. He should not investigate. He should not follow that scent and drain its owner of the essence keeping them alive. In the end, however, he can't bring himself to leave without at least glimpsing the source of such a delectable aroma.
He slides out of his car again, this time not bothering to pull the top up, and tracks the scent. A few humans milling about take notice of him but he ignores them completely. His nose leads him across the town square blossoming with flower buds to a glass storefront. He pauses at the door. A mug with steam rising out of it is painted on the glass. Below it reads "MOUNTAINTOP CAFE" with their hours of operation for each day. He pushes it open without hesitation and steps inside.
The cafe is bigger inside than he anticipated with many empty tables spread around. He smells the nauseating aroma of human food, a bitterness like coffee, and his favorite—the mouthwatering human scent. The sound of a gentle feminine voice draws his attention to the order counter.
"That's truly wonderful. I wish your wife a safe and healthy pregnancy."
Calypso's brows furrow. Who is the woman talking to? He quietly approaches the counter.
"Yes, sir," the woman says.
He catches a glimpse of honey blonde hair behind one of the espresso machines. The girl ends what must have been a phone call and placed her phone down. As she lifts her head in his direction, Calypso pretends he's been reading the menu over the counter. He can't even concentrate for long enough to read the sign. All he can do is ward off the thirst unraveling his self-control. Still, he must see her. He has to know who this sweet little treat is.
The girl's shoes tap quickly against the floor until she's there, right in front of him. He schools his face as he looks down at her. Every ounce of air in his lungs evaporate. He can't help but openly stare at her.
She's much shorter than him but she offers a graceful smile behind two full, rosy lips. Her eyes, though hidden behind a pair of glasses, gleam up at him through hues of garden greens and caramel yellows. He could swim in them, they're so gorgeous. In the process of milliseconds, Calypso recognizes the burn inside of him, the yearn for this young female's blood as well as her body. He steels himself as she begins to talk. How can he let some human girl control him so severely?
"I apologize for the—"
"I find it highly unprofessional that this establishment allows employees to take calls on the job," he snaps. He can tell his rudeness has caught her off guard as she blinks mutely at him. For some reason, this enrages him more. "Are you mute?" he ruthlessly demands.
"N-No, sir," she says. Her cheeks darken with a blush that fills his nose with that enticing aroma. She wets her lips and looks down at her computer. "What can I get for you?"
"I'll take a black coffee."
Her nails tap his order into her computer. He takes the chance to look her over, absorbing each little detail. A smattering of freckles bands her nose and cheekbones and compliments the small circles of melanin on her neck, chest, arms, and hands. He wonders if she has them under her clothes. The top layer of her hair is pulled up into a ponytail away from her face while the underlying layer is loose and silky-looking. His fingers ache to run through the strands and grab them with punishing force.
"Would you like that in small, medium, or large?" she asks in a hushed tone.
For some reason, he suddenly hates that she won't meet his eye. He wants to peer into those colorful orbs again and for longer. Clenching his hands into fists, he forces himself to remain in the conversation.
"Small," he tells her.
"For here or take out?"
'Christ, how many fucking questions does it take to order?' he thinks irately. "For here," he answers, glaring down at her in the hopes that she'll look up at him once more.
"Your total is two dollars and seventy-five cents. Will that be cash or card?"
She still doesn't look at him. Grinding his teeth, Calypso feels his canines extend. He has to put some space between them before he reaches across the counter and seizes the little human by her throat. He grabs the lump of cash he always carries on his ventures into the village and, plucking out a five-dollar bill, hurriedly places it on the counter. He's already turning away from her and her beguilement as he orders her to bring the coffee to his table.
His nerves feel electrified, like each one is a live wire, as he settles into a seat. What the fuck is he even doing here? He hates coffee and all things human. To distract himself from thirst wracking his bones, he pulls out his phone and checks to see if any of the girls have texted. They haven't, which is good, but he wishes one of them would call and make him forget about this alluring human. One of his concubines is exactly what he needs to make this lust go away. He has more than enough with them. They never fail to satisfy him. So how can he even be tempted by a human girl?
The damnable scent wraps around him as she walks over to his table. He grips his phone tighter to keep his hands occupied. Calypso makes the mistake of glancing up at her and seeing those gorgeous eyes all over again. The girl breathes lightly as she places the mug on his table.
"There's your coffee," she says. Then she places a pile containing a dollar bill and several coins beside the mug. "And here's your change."
Without thinking, Calypso grabs her wrist before she can walk away. His own pulse thunders through him. Between her mouthwatering smell and the heat transferring from her flesh to his, he's nearly overwhelmed. The girl turns back to him sharply, surprised. When her eyes drop to his hand clamped around her wrist, he snaps out of his trance.
"I didn't want the change," he snaps. "Take it back."
The girl's eyes meet his again and she squirms in his tight grip. Oh, how he longs to give her other reasons to squirm . . .
Before he can lose his head again, Calypso squeezes her wrist harder until she whimpers and unfurls her fist. He grabs the pile of money from the table with his free hand and stuffs it into her palm. His skin tingles where he curls his fingers around hers to close her fist around the change.
Composing himself with a weak breath, he snarls, "Leave me," and lets her go.
The girl stumbles back a step and gapes at him. Calypso turns his gaze back to his phone, ignoring her evident confusion. His body feels an odd sense of emptiness without the contact of her warm skin. He waits until the girl has her back turned to slip out of the cafe and escape the unbearable temptation to slain her.
He doesn't spare even once glance back. An unsettling sentiment drapes over his hunched shoulders as he strides across the village. Each step that puts more distance between his fangs and her sugary blood feels like a fresh assault on his thirst. He diverts his path to the car to step into the town square. For just a moment, the smell of blooming plants stifles the aroma and permits him the chance to breathe fully. He drops onto one of the park benches and all but stuffs his face into some kind of flowering bush. The familiar ringtone for Daisy draws Calypso out of his misery. He manages to answer it with a ragged breath.
"Daisy?" he rasps.
"Cal?" she answers, her voice an octave higher than usual. "Are you okay, baby?"
"I'm fine." He clears his throat. As much as he wants to tell her and the other girls about his new fascination, over the phone is not the way to do it. "How are you, darling? What did you call for?"
She makes a noise of disbelief. "You sound strange. Are you sure you're okay? Do we need to come get you?"
"No," he says too quickly. "No. I'll be home later than usual today, but everything is fine."
"If you say so. I was just calling to check on you since you're normally home by now. Is that woman at the Urgent Care giving your problems?"
"No, darling. I'll tell you all about my day when I get home."
"Okay. Well, call me if you need us. I love you, Cal."
"Love you too, darling."
As soon as the call drops, Calypso forces himself to his feet and back in the direction of his Aston Martin. He needs to go home and surround himself with his concubines. He just needs a reminder that he has more than he could ever want, beyond what any man could think to have. Perhaps he can send one of the girls into town to get rid of the human. That way he can return next month in peace.
The image of Daisy or Katrina or any of his other girls draining the life out of that little human doesn't bring him the satisfaction he hoped it would. In fact, it just makes him angry, which in turn makes him furious. Who was that human mongrel to make him feel these things? He has no partiality to humans and to be protective of one—nonsense!
Calypso's head snaps up at the blaring horn of a nearby car. He stiffens upon realizing he's outside the Cafe, standing in the road. The red Chevy honks again.
"Hey buddy!" someone yells. "Get the hell outta the road!"
His lip peels back to instinctually flash the driver a threatening fang. He feels an enraged thirst grip him and he nearly succumbs to his desire when the lights inside the Cafe shut off. Calypso's head whips back towards the Cafe. He can barely make out the noises of the little human turning off machines and other lights inside the building. The Chevy doesn't move even as the terrifying man steps onto the sidewalk. Calypso tries the front door but it's locked.
'Is she closing down? It's rather early,' he muses.
Perhaps he rattled her so much that she had to close her cafe sooner than usual. That incites a forbidden sense of satisfaction inside the vampire. As he starts to walk around the cafe building, his phone rings. It's Katrina. Calypso glances down the alley alongside the building. He can smell the delectable little human close but he can't delay in answering Kat. Huffing, he puts the phone to his ear.
"Finally!" Katrina growls. "Where are you, Cal? Why haven't you been taking any of our calls?"
He pauses, his brows drawing together. "What do you mean, honey? I just got off the phone with Daisy a minute ago."
"A minute ago?" she echoes in disbelief. "That was hours ago! Jesus Christ. Where are you, Cal? I'm going to get you."
A vampire hooked on opioids and experiencing withdrawals coming into a human village? Calypso thinks to himself with an internal groan.
"You know better," he warns her sternly. "If you so much as step foot outside the castle, I'll bind you to a tree and let the ravens peck at you for a week."
Katrina hisses. "Daddy, please. Let me come get you."
He pinches his eyes shut. She knows how to pluck at just the right chords. "Fuck, princess . . ." I moan.
"Yeah, that's it," Katrina says, her voice soft now. "You know you want to come home, Daddy. Come home and see me. We've all been very restless without you here, Daddy."
"I'm coming home," Calypso begins hoarsely. The loud crank of an old engine fires up behind the cafe and his body automatically launches into motion, pursuing the sweet scent. "Just give me a minute."
"Cal!" she yells but he is already hanging up.
His chest aches to know what he's putting his girls through. He hates to disappoint them. Their happiness, while contained mostly within the bounds of his own, is the most important thing to him. Over the time they have been together, they have developed an unusual respect for master and concubines. They are his very life.
As he catches sight of a Jeep pulling away from the cafe, he tucks his phone into his coat and slinks off into the rouge stripes of dusk, surrendering to his most primal instinct.