CHAPTER THREE
Ailsa
I HAD PHIL drop me off at a burger van as we passed it.
The mouthwatering smell of greasy onions had me convinced I absolutely needed a burger and chips like right now.
An impulsive decision for sure, but I was starving.
I supposed fucking some hot guy in an alley will do that to a girl.
It was fine though, it wasn’t too far from my apartment. The joys of city living.
I awkwardly waved my thanks to Phil after I handed him a tenner, the taxi already pulling away before I’d properly turned toward the pavement. The sudden quiet felt jarring after the club and my ears still rang from the bass.
The frigid night air bit immediately. The sweat-damp tendrils of my hair clung cold against the back of my neck, the chill seeping through the thin fabric of my clothes as my skin rapidly cooled.
I sighed inwardly at what was undoubtedly about to become a miserably wet night.
Living here, you quickly learnt that the weather changed at the drop of a hat, and I swore I could actually smell the rain on its approach.
Perhaps it was the buzz from the alcohol already wearing thin, but it felt a lot colder here.
I folded my arms across my chest instinctively, hunching lightly as I approached the burger van.
I made fast work of my late night meal, deliciously greasy as expected, and normally that would have hit the spot, but somehow I felt just as hungry as before.
Despite the hour I felt full of life, nowhere near as tired as my brain told me I should have been.
The pavement stretched ahead in long, dim strips under the amber glow of the streetlamps, and a brittle wind skittered along the ground, sending the last dry remnants of autumn scraping across the concrete in restless, whispering bursts.
I slowed slightly, watching one cluster tumble past my feet as the feeling of something about this night being off weighed on me.
I didn’t feel right. I exhaled, a faint cloud forming in front of me, and told myself to stop being ridiculous.
It was late, it had been a long day. I was a bit drunk. Of course things felt off.
Still, I found myself glancing over my shoulder.
But there was nothing.
I picked up my pace anyway. Home wasn’t far—just a few more minutes. The familiar outline of it waited somewhere up ahead, and the thought of it warmed my heart, a welcome contrast to the hollow edge that seemed to cling to the night.
I walked at a brisk pace back to my apartment, boots striking against the pavement as I passed the dimly lit off-licence on the corner—its harsh fluorescent lights buzzing faintly, casting a sickly glow over the window display of cheap spirits and faded offers.
It was closed, shutters halfway down, the street around it silent and hollow.
Just as I rounded onto Hawthorn Street, the heavens opened.
Rain fell in an instant—no warning drizzle, no hesitant build, just a sudden relentless downpour that soaked through everything within seconds.
I smiled smugly at my correct weather prediction, looking skyward, and allowing the ice cold droplets to drown me, washing away the lingering heat and sweat from the club. My clothes clung to me quickly, growing heavy, my hair darkening as it plastered itself to my cheeks and neck.
I didn’t run from it. Didn’t duck for shelter. Instead, I slowed. Letting it happen.
Water streamed down my face, over my eyelids, along the curve of my jaw. The chill should have been unpleasant, but it wasn’t. I let out a quiet breath, an almost laugh, spreading my arms slightly as if to take more of it in.
As much as I could have stayed in the rain all night, common sense in the back of my mind prevailed and reminded me that I could quite literally die from hypothermia.
I rushed past The Second Chapter, a bookstore.
A warm glow still flickered in the back, letting me know that Timothy was undoubtedly burning the candle at both ends again, likely restoring some old book.
I wouldn’t say I knew the man in his late forties well, but given that my apartment was directly above his—above the bookstore—we were friendly enough.
He was a loner type, and so was I, so while we exchanged pleasantries now and again and I frequented his shop, our relationship never evolved into more.
And to be honest, I preferred it that way anyway.
I wasn’t a good friend, and was even less a good partner.
I didn’t need extra people in my life. People had a predisposition for using and disappointing me, so I was better off without the added heartache.
I’d learned that the hard way, and since I’d stopped trying to please everyone, I’d been happier.
I climbed the narrow old staircase to my apartment, fumbling slightly with my keys before rushing through the door and locking it behind me. I kicked off my boots by the door and peeled off my soaking blouse, heading straight for the bathroom.
My apartment was tiny, but it was cosy and suited me just fine.
I was lucky, in the fact that this apartment had belonged to my great-aunt and after my mother’s passing a few years prior, it had been passed down to Claire and me.
There had been a time when she lived here on her own, then a stretch where Claire and I shared it, navigating one another's habits in the cramped space.
That was before Dominic came along. Now the two of them had a place further out of the city, something bigger, quainter.
Which left this one to me.
It was the one real blessing our mother had left us, and after everything we’d put up with during our childhood, this apartment was the least we were owed.
“Well hello there missus,” I said, my voice softer now, as I crouched to give Lucretia a scratch behind the ear.
She chirped in response, blinking at me slowly, entirely pleased with herself.
She’d shown up outside my window almost one years ago now.
Obviously, I couldn’t just let her freeze out in the winter temperatures, and upon letting her in she’d made herself at home.
I’d made enquiries of whether anyone had lost her, but no-one ever laid to claim her, so here we were.
She’d claimed me as hers. I was glad of the company to be honest. It was funny, she’d appeared not long after Claire had moved out, as though she somehow knew I needed her.
Lucretia gave a soft chirp before padding off towards her usual spot on the sofa by the window, tail flicking once as she settled.
A clear dismissal, or a reminder.
She, of course, was right.
I turned on the tap for the bath and steam began to gather as the water ran, filling the small bathroom with warmth.
Catching sight of myself in the mirror, I paused for a moment—dark hair damp and clinging in uneven strands, eyeliner faintly smudged beneath my eyes, cheeks flushed from drink and cold alike. I looked tired, but lighter, somehow.
I didn’t linger.
Soon enough, I sank into the bath, the water just shy of too hot. The heat sank into my skin, then my bones, dull and comforting.
My skin was turning cherry-red as I lay there in the hot water, letting the sting of it numb my mind.
It had been a day, and I was starting to feel the drain of all the social interaction.
Normally I’d be beyond exhausted at this point in the night, oftentimes not even making it to bed and falling asleep on the sofa.
But tonight, I felt… I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t put a name to it other than—strange.
All of the exhaustion from earlier in the day had evaporated and I felt almost buzzed.
But it was different from the feeling of drinking, or even drugs.
It was just plain… strange. I had hoped the hot bath would have calmed me, but it only made me more restless.
Not to mention that damn hunger. Jesus, I felt like I could eat an actual horse and still be hungry.
With my long dark hair still damp and unruly. I pulled on some joggers and an oversized hoody before heading to the kitchen. I pulled open my fridge to be reminded that I’d yet to do a shop and my options were therefore limited as fuck. I sighed, pulling out a block of cheddar cheese.
Cheese toasties it’ll be then.
I made quick work of the prep, paying the cheese tax to Lucrecia and placed the cheese loaded slices under the grill.
They’d only take a few minutes but my stomach was already rumbling—again.
You’d think I never ate. What the fuck was wrong with me tonight?
Had that guy in the club spiked my drink or something?
I didn’t feel drugged, but something was off.
I filled the kettle—maybe a nice herbal tea would calm me—and put it on, then sank into the sofa as I waited.
A solemn birthday card from the previous week was still displayed on the mantlepiece.
Twenty-seven fucking years on this God forsaken planet.
I picked at the chipped nail varnish on my nails, an unfortunate habit I’d developed years ago.
It was the only card I’d received this year, from Claire of course.
She’d overcompensated in her gift this year—from pity I fear.
I think she secretly worried that I didn’t have enough people around me.
She was the opposite of me, in every way.
Happy to be surrounded by people, bubbly and chatty, whereas I on the other hand much preferred my own company, loathed small talk and just didn’t fit in.
I preferred to be anonymous, to disappear in large crowds and do my own thing.
But, it wasn’t that I didn’t have any friends.
It was just that none were particularly close, but that was by my own design.
I was happy with how my life was… I think.
I pulled a blanket over myself and gestured for Lucrecia to join me, which she happily did—never one to turn down a cuddle.
I was so busy petting her and thinking about the guy from the club that I had momentarily forgotten about my hunger.
I shook my head in thought. He was… different.
Something about him was unlike any other guy I’d been with.
He was cocky, sure, but he wasn’t arrogant.
And I mean, he had good reason to be sure of himself.
But it was more than that. I hated to admit it, but I felt like I’d clicked with him on some other level. Some primal thing, maybe.
“Oh shit!” I cried out as the room filled with the smell of burning cheese, I had lost track of time.
I hurried over to the grill, quickly pulling out my bubbling cheese toastie with its charred edges.
As ever, Lucrecia watched the whole scene unfold, her bewitching emerald eyes fixated on me, perfectly aloof.
I supposed to her, this was entertainment.
“It’s fine” I said, waving her away as she looked at me like I was the dumbest person alive.
I had no doubt her opinion of me must have been low, given the way she always looked at me.
Yet she chose to stick around. Perhaps because she thought I was some wounded animal needing a minder.
That minder of course being her with all her worldly wisdom and culinary skills.
Still, I enjoyed her company, it made the flat feel less lonely. At least with her here I was chatting to her, not talking to myself… quite as much.
I set my only slightly burnt midnight snack down on the kitchen table, pulled out a chair for myself and sat with that ravenous hunger back with a vengeance.
In fact, I don’t remember the last time I felt this hungry.
I was beginning to think this cheese toastie might not cut it, just as the burger and chips I’d scoffed down only an hour ago hadn’t.
Maybe I had a parasite or something—didn’t they make you super hungry? I swore I’d heard that in a documentary once. I sighed with a sinking feeling, doing my best to shake the thought from my mind, and took a bite.
Just as I’d swallowed my last bit, my fears were confirmed.
I was indeed still fucking hungry, like I hadn’t eaten anything at all.
And then—
There was pain.
Excruciating pain.
The kind that was felt in every nerve of your body all at once. I crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath just as the pain soared through my body, culminating in one place.
A million little stabs to my mouth.
Dental pain?
What the fuck?
I couldn’t think.
I bit down on my tongue instinctively, trying to numb the pain with pressure, but it didn’t work. I ran my tongue over my teeth, pushing against each in turn to try and locate the source.
Had I chipped a tooth? No, that wouldn’t hurt like this…
And I would have noticed that.
I couldn’t recall any sensitivity in my teeth recently, never mind anything close to this pain.
I groaned, pushing myself up from the floor and stumbled into the bathroom.
A shiver broke out over my skin as I was hit with another shot of pain.
I leaned against the bathroom doorframe for support, clutching my jaw, desperately trying to quell the throbbing pain.
Nausea rose so suddenly I couldn’t stop my stomach emptying itself.
Thankfully, the toilet bowl was right at the entrance to the small room.
What the fuck was happening, I pleaded with my subconscious for answers.
I righted myself, inhaling a shaky breath.
Then it was gone—the pain—all of it… just… gone.
I pulled myself to the sink, splashing a handful of cold water over my face.
I glared at the mirror in front of me. I was still me.
But somehow, I also wasn’t. I felt as though I was looking at a stranger who looked like me.
I couldn’t put my finger on what exactly it was that felt so…
different, just that now familiar feeling rising in me again—the strange one.
My reflection was paler than usual, and my eyes seemed darker as if such a thing were possible.
I roared back in pain as that sharp pain tugged at my teeth once more. This time, when I ran my tongue over my teeth… I thought I felt—no it couldn’t be—sharpened tips.
My lateral incisors and canines—top and bottom—had lengthened and become… pointed.
“What the fuck,” I cried, my voice broken and shrill.
I put a finger in my mouth, pulling my cheeks aside to get a better look and feel, praying that I was merely seeing things. Maybe I had been drugged. Or maybe this was all a dream, please let it be just a nightmare.
But no.
Part of me just knew.
My whole body burst into goosebumps at the confirmation. They were really there. I felt them, sharp and lethal against my skin. They were real.
Fangs.
I had fangs in my mouth.