As fetid ocean waters rise under the Santa Monica pier, the sound of joy and laughter echoes out from the distant festivities. There's a blocked off part of the street, an animal attack tarped over and covered by uniformed officers idly mumbling conversations in flickering lamplight.

Watching from afar, someone with broad shoulders and a large coat pretends not to watch. She has a cigarette between her lips, her eyes are empty and sallow. Large dark circles making them puffy and the red cracks betray months without rest. Her hair is thrown into a tight auburn bun, and the smell of tobacco permeates every part of her being. She ashes it with mis-matched fingernails, covered in chipped emerald nail polish. Her trench coat has stains of something dark, and the very edges are frayed from years of use. Her phone is out, with a professional lens attached to slyly take photos.

The corpse is barely visible under the cover, looking like an industrial accident. It's just one of a dozen distractions that keep everyone's attention tightly wound to the life around them rather than anything more worrying. A diner calls to travelers in the night, Surfside, a place that looks like it should have closed down decades ago, but somehow clings to life.

Click, the near-silent photograph as the officers don't even bother to care to notice is saved, blood spattered pier recorded on the device. A buzz pulses in the background of the sight, like a speaker set to infrasound. Finally, an ambulance arrives, more clicks, more photographs. The body is moved, slipping out from under the tarp to show the vomit-inducing horror of ruined flesh, shattered bone and deep organ-spilling furrows that happened across its frame.

Katherine breathes out suddenly, aftershock sensation forcing her to lean against a wall as a buzzing ambulance arrives, paramedics preparing to get the body up and out of the ground. What the hell? Then looking around, reaching into her pockets into the pocket of her trenchcoat, fuck day dreaming again, a small bottle of Dexedrine pours a small pile of amphetamines into her hand that she dry swallows without counting.

The… There's screaming. It hits her like a freight train as the blood hits the window, now she'll ru— Well, wait. The cops fired into the ambulance didn't they? She can split after that. Katherine watches the scene play out a second time. Her mind trying to piece together what happened. A premonition? Those weren't real, magic isn't real. More blood, dumped corpses. Exactly like last time. She saw the bullets flash, alright time to book it.

This time Katherine did run, a full sprint towards the boardwalk. Making it past people, making it past everything. She hung in the crowd, watching people ride the Ferris wheel, the crowds starting to meamble between the aquarium having a night viewing, and the shops. She stared uphill, at the residential neighborhood she had just fled from. There wasn't a pursuer? Did it really happen, she thinks as she checks the label of her medication, then her phone. Yep, all there. Clear as crystal. She wasn't parked far from the pier, always parked in a crowded area, just in case. Just in case crazy women chase you? Sometimes though a lot rarer these days.

She shakily puts another cigarette in her mouth, before doing a once around for cops. Katherine's car was a beat up 1997 Chevy Malibu, with chipped white paint, a dented passenger door, and a huge divot in the bumper. The engine almost failed to turn on. She needed to contact the stations, bu—

"You're so smart." A light french accent comes from the backseat, image of a woman, covered in blood, appearing there, "I could barely smell you." She whispers, leaning against the back of the driver's seat.

First time someone said that before. "Hello," Katherine said tilting the mirror trying to look into the backseat. There's… Nothing there. "Can I at least get a kiss this time?" She asks, What's the play here Katherine?

"This time?" They ask curiously, accent stumbling over time, "What's your name, morsel?"

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Alright, trust your gut. "Katherine, Katherine Doukas," she says, "I take photographs." Very gently she's reaching under the driver side wheel. The Electrical tape, almost touching. "You?"

"Eleanora Brisbau." Eleanora whispers, "Go on, take the gun." She pushes Katherine forwards, letting her put her hands on the tape fully.

Crazy? Booby trapped? She gingerly presses around the gun for plates, still not able to find her in a reflective surface anywhere, That's because she wasn't in the car, of course, Katherine still— She pushed you. Physically. Very gently, she pulled on the Sig, then, disconnecting it, checked the clip, that it was loaded, and then placed it on her lap. "Pretty name." Katherine said finally.

"Anyway, I will make it out of here alive?" Simple, to the point. Not worth mincing words about it.

Gingerly, Eleanora shakes her head, "I wish, Katerina. But fate is not so…indulgente?" She thinks on the word, "Forgiving." The answer comes to her. A dainty finger points at the gun in Katherine's lap, "Point it at me, you will feel safer, fear gives an acrid taste."

"Then I guess the kiss is off the table?" Katherine said with a laugh, "I don't think the gun is going to help me right now if the other one's didn't help them."

Crawling past and into the front passenger seat slowly, she laughs, drawing the moment out, "How can I make it less…scary?" Eleanora asks, settling and staining the seat with slowly rotting blood. Her black eyes begin to un-widen, flickering to a very human blue, bright, life-like.

This is how you die. Fuck. Katherine looks at the vampire, covered in blood, blonde curls draped over a thin sharp face, blue eyes. She just stares at her.. "Let me make a text? You can watch." She says, quietly.

"Please." The monster gestures for her to continue, waiting.

She opens up her phone, pulls up a number, showing it to the vampire the contact labeled, Maine Coon breeder. She shows her going back a few months of back and forth, and then texts.

Hey, something came up. Gonna have to take me off the wait-list. Katherine winced, at least now someone else would get the stupid fucking cat. Of course she'd die before getting one.

"Oh, la pauvre!" She whispers soulfully, staring at the phone.

Katherine nodded, "Alright, it's one of those uh… They're a breeding farm, but I think they just put'em down if you cancel too late."

"Je garderai un chat pour toi." Eleanora says, smiling at the explanation.

"I know, I should adopt from a shelter, but I wanted the personality to be right. Plus what if it was too small." Her heart beat calmed down just a bit, and she felt calm. It was the cat or eating a bullet anyways, "Alright. Go for it."

"Do you still want the…kiss?" She struggles for the word a moment, tilting her head.

Katherine nods with a small chuckle, "Yeah, found out I didn't like men very recently… Would be nice to know."

She moves, leaning across the console and pressing her lips into Katherine. Blood and violence is readily tasted as her tongue moves into the other woman's mouth, exploring slowly, giving Katherine time to get used to it. But, it ends as all things, Eleanora begins to slip down, brushing lips against jaw, lapping her tongue against the carotid. "Ready?" She whispers.

Katherine says, "Thanks for not making it terrifying." It was true, she was at peace with this, she supposed. Then she nodded.

A point of absolute vacuum, everything sucked into the bite after a moment's pain. Its more, somehow, closer to her brain, closer to her soul. Pulsing and pounding and rippling constantly throughout. Eleanora is even slower this time, stretching it out minutes, long, soul-shattering minutes of white and stars and black overcoming every possible sense. The creeping fog settles, giving everything an ethereal aspect, every feeling the touch of something beyond.

Black, nothing.