“Why am I going to get you blood,” I ask over the phone.

“Because I’m all out,” Destiny laughs, she’s been doing that more often lately.

“But that doesn’t answer why I’m going and not you.”

“Because you’re my familiar,” she laughs harder now.

“Your what?”

“Familiar, you’re someone a vampire thinks is good to have around. Usually, a familiar fills some kind of important role. Goes out during the day, pays the bills. Might provide a little blood. All the things vampires can’t do themselves.”

“But you can go outside in the day time.”

“Yeah, but I’m working.”

“I have a job too.”

“Yeah, but you don’t really like it. So just be my familiar for the day.”

“So, you’re saying I’m good to have around?”

“Not really but if you’re going to be seen with me, I need to keep the money flowing. I like my bitches in pretty shoes,” she laughs hard and hangs up.

I can’t believe she really just called me her bitch. What is wrong with her? Why do I like it? I hope I’m not one of those people that gets a kick out of being abused. That really isn’t how I saw my life going. Do I like getting hit? Name calling? No, I don’t like that stuff. Then again, I’m sitting outside of a decrepit building with a big sign that says ‘Blood Bank' and smiling like an idiot. I hope I can really buy blood here, otherwise she’s just making a fool out of me. But she doesn’t seem to be the pranking type.

Deep breath, just relax. She’s got my head spinning. Just relax. I’m just running an errand for a friend. That’s it, just a friend. She’s just a friend. I don’t really have any friends. No, just breathe. Breathe easy, one, two, three. Okay, I’m good now.

Inside the building is much cleaner, I grab a ticket and take a seat like everyone else. I didn’t notice when I walked in, but there’s some serious security in here. Big guys, kind of greenish. I sink down in my seat at the thought that entered my mind. These are Orcs aren’t they. Just take me back to Oblivion, I can’t deal with Orcs in my real life. Oh my god, is that an elf at the counter? Okay, remember your breathing exercises. It’s just life, everyone here is a person just like you. Are elves people? What about Orcs? Okay just chill. There was a time when Black people weren’t considered people. I shouldn’t treat Orcs and Elves the way my ancestors were treated. Just, normal people. With magic and spiked clubs. What am I saying? The Orcs aren’t even carrying spiked clubs. Are there Dwarves? I bet there are dwarves.

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“Number 13,” the Elf working the counter calls out.

“Why, hello,” I play it cool.

“What you want,” she chews her gum and swipes the blonde and pink hair from her snow like skin.

“Blood.”

“What kind?”

“What do you mean?”

“Ugh,” she sighs, “we got A, B, AB, O, then you got negatives. Do you want blood, or blood wine, brandy, pudding? You want it flavored? Damned new thralls can never get it right,” she goes off on a tangent. “You’d think someone would teach these new vampires how to make a thrall correctly. I mean, it’s the only damn magic they can do and they can’t get it right.”

“I’m not a thrall,” is all I can say.

“Whatever, take a menu and a new number.”

Suddenly all of my anxiety is gone when I realize Elves are people too, annoying people. Just as bad as any human can be. I can deal with annoying humans, I went to therapy for that. I’d take it Orcs are the same way. The more the world seems to change, the more everything seems to stay the same. That’s the way it is, that’s the way it always has been and always will be.

The menu is kind of crazy, more like a restaurant than anything else. There aren’t a ton of prepared foods but all of the foods are marked prep or consumption. There’s indeed a wide selection of liquor made from blood. I’m not sure how it would work. Does blood even ferment? What does Destiny like? I think she just had bottles of blood in her fridge, but I saw her eat blood on salad. So maybe both. Okay, I’ll get her some blood wine, some regular blood and some cooking blood. This sounds ridiculous.

“Number 21,” she calls out.

I watch as a short thin man makes his way up to the counter. They exchange some words and he heads to the back. Perhaps people give blood freely here. I know plasma centers pay people for their donations. I wonder if the same thing goes on here. Usually blood donation just gets you a cookie or an orange slice. I wonder how much they know; I mean they have to know. This place isn’t exactly The Red Cross. I’m guessing any of the blood donation centers around the city that aren’t red cross might be vampire affiliated. Then again, everyone buying blood doesn’t look like a vampire. Could everyone here be a familiar or what did the woman at the desk say? A thrall, those are magic based right? I’ll have to ask Destiny later.

“Number 29,” she calls out and I make my way to the counter. “Oh lord, do you know what you want now?”

“Yeah, I know what I want,” a manager, but I’m not going to be that guy.

She fetches the items I point out and rings me up. I’ll admit it’s pretty nice that the prices are as listed with the tax included. I just don’t think I’m eager to come back to this place. I’ve been trying to cope with the world not being as simple as I thought it was, but there’s a lot to take in. I was just settling with the thought of Vampires, Werewolves and Elves. But then you add Orcs in the mix. I wonder what else is out there. I don’t think breathing exercises are going to get me through. I might need a xanax or whatever they’re selling to deal with anxiety these days. I’m sure Elias has something that can help.