I stared at the cakes, muffins and sandwiches lining the counter, willing myself to feel hungry for them. This is the sort of food I should want, the food I could afford.

Footsteps clicked in the staffroom behind the counter. A granny shuffled out of the doorway. Her floral apron was covered in white dust and her hair was done up in a messy grey bun. She leaned slightly on the glass of the counter, peering over at the various pastries before glancing up at me.

“Are you ready to order something?”

I shuffled back a little, shaking my head. An image of my teeth sinking into her neck flashed through my mind, but I tried to ignore it.

“No,” I said, “I’m just looking.”

She smiled, standing up straight again.

“Well, dear, once you’ve decided,” she said and pointed at a small bell on the counter, “ring this and you can order.”

I nodded, glancing at the cakes again. I imagined taking a bite, chewing the dry, sickly-sweet dough, the rough mass sticking in my throat. I couldn’t do it. There was no point in trying.

The café door swung open. Immediately, chatter flooded the room. A group of teenagers, maybe just a few years of older than me, made their way to the counter. This was a small café with poor air circulation. I could deal with one anaemic old granny, but not this. I pushed my way through the crowd and to the door, escaping into the fresh air.

I let the air fill my lungs, but this air was tainted with human scent. I felt an empty pit somewhere in my stomach, a gurgle surfacing every time a human would walk past. The crowd was always my least favourite part of the market.

I reached into my pocket, feeling for the small fabric pouch. I fished it out, feeling the weight of it (or lack thereof) in my hand. I opened it, pouring out a few golden coins onto my palm. Surely, this would be enough. I wouldn’t have much left, but I needed to eat. My brain already felt fuzzy, as if I was manually forcing the rusty cogs to turn every time I needed to think. I couldn’t go on like this much longer.

I popped the coins back into the pouch and slipped it into my pocket. I needed to go to the international market. It wasn’t a long walk away from here at all. The only issue was that of directions. Most of the market is along a wide, busy street, but the international section takes up its own alleyway. This alleyway is situated between a fish shop and an enchanted item stall, the entrance barely noticeable. You really have to know about it to find it.

Luckily, the crowds on the way there were manageable. No, it was not ‘lucky’, it would be unfair to call it luck when really, it was quite purposeful. Especially when hungry, I tend to visit the markets exclusively during the early mornings to avoid the crowds.

A few tables lined the alleyway of the international market, each with a sign hanging either overhead or from the front of the table, advertising the regions from which these products came from. Already, I could smell it. They must spray some sort of scent into the air, or maybe smear some under the table, just to attract vampires.

I slipped through a group standing in front of a table selling some snacks from Winderra and headed deeper down the alley, following the scent. Finally, I spotted the purple fabric sign with “Dorran” embroidered in large golden letters. I shuffled forward, trying to see where they keep the blood, hoping that I could afford it.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

The shopkeeper was already preoccupied with a different customer, so I stood back a little, trying to keep my distance from the humans. A few moments passed. This was taking longer that it should. This wasn’t simply the case of someone paying for their product. The customer wasn’t leaving, the shopkeeper was frowning. I stepped a little closer, just close enough to hear the conversation over the loud murmur from the neighbouring stalls.

“Please, it’s just two coins, I really need it,” mumbled the customer. She sounded close to tears.

“I can’t discount it. If I discounted it for you, I’d have to for everyone else.”

I looked closer. The customer was a girl roughly my age, one hand holding the hand of a younger girl, the other clutching a glass vile filled with deep green powder.

I stepped a little closer to the stall. The younger girl clutched onto the older girl’s arm. The older one turned to face me. Her eyes were wet. She turned back to the shopkeeper again.

“My sister needs this medicine. I don’t know where else I can get it. Please.”

The shopkeeper shook his head, frowning. I glanced at the products displayed on the table. Various powders, snacks and magical jewellery lined the table. Finally, I spotted the glass bottles filled with blood. Eight coins for a jar. I had eleven coins.

I slipped my hand into my pocket and held onto my pouch. Whatever this girl needed, it must have been important. I picked out two coins from the pouch and stretched my hand out to the girl at the stall. She looked at my hand, her eyes still wet but her voice quiet, not crying anymore. She looked up at me with wide eyes.

“It’s for you,” I said, “I heard you say that you’re two coins short.”

She reached out for the money, but hesitated, her hand hovering just a few centimetres away from mine. I held my hand closer to her, and her warm fingers took the coins. She turned to the shopkeeper, adding the money to the small pile already on the counter. The shopkeeper nodded.

“Very well. That’s enough coins then. You’re free to take the vile.”

The girl let out a breath, clutching onto the small glass bottle. She shuffled the smaller girl out of the way, who was still holding onto her arm. I stepped up to the counter.

“One bottle of blood for me, please.” I held out the eight coins.

The shopkeeper took the money, counting it before placing it somewhere under the table. He picked up a bottle of blood and handed it to me. I wrapped my fingers around the cold glass.

“It’s fresh and ethically sourced,” he said.

I nodded, stepping away from the counter to make way for the next customer. Of course, ‘fresh’ in this instance would mean safe to eat. In my mind, fresh would mean straight from the source, not refrigerated for multiple days.

I started walking back through the alley, but noticed that the two girls from before standing just a few meters away from the Dorran stall, both staring at me. I slowed my steps, stopping just a meter or two in front of them. The older girl bowed a little.

“T-thank you,” she said.

I glanced away for a second.

“It’s nothing.”

The girl gave me a soft smile. “Um, are you from Dorran too, or are you just a vampire from here?”

“Half-vampire, but I came here from Dorran just a year or so ago.”

The girl smiled again and opened her mouth, as if to speak.

“If it’s okay,” I said, “I’d like to go somewhere less populated if we are going to chat. I don’t like the smell here.”

The girl gave me a nod. We started walking.

“Would you like me to warm up the blood for you?” she asked, “I know vampires tend to prefer their blood warm.”

She held out her free hand, the one not holding onto the small girl. I handed her the precious bottle, immediately regretting it. If she were to drop it, I would not be able to afford another one. She wrapped her hand tightly around the neck of the bottle, holding the container between the inside of her forearm and the side of her chest.

“I am Erria, by the way, what’s your name?” she said.

“I am Taylaron. Who is this with you?”

Erria looked down at the small girl, who I realised I hadn’t heard speak at all. The girl looked up at me with wide purple eyes before glancing down at the ground again.

“This is my little sister, Elawynn.”

I looked at Elawynn, giving her a smile. She hid her face behind her sister’s arm, avoiding eye contact. She looked quite pale, and I could tell it wasn’t just because she was from Dorran. She smelled unappetising.