SIX | CYRUS

I heard Grace gasp beside me, but I couldn’t draw my eyes away from him to check on her. The coffee jug felt too hard against my palm, and I realised distantly that I was gripping onto it with all my strength.

“I don’t recognise you,” I said, a little playfully, something flirtatious slipping into my tone. I’d not heard that quality in my own voice in years, not since before I’d met Harper. “You aren’t from around here?” I asked.

He laid down his paper, leaning forward and propping his head up on his hands. His face could have been chiselled from white marble, smooth and sleek beneath his tousled almost-black hair. I let my gaze wander up his face slowly, taking in the elegant, arrogant curve of his sensual upper lip, the hard, sharp lines of his jaw, the faint brush of stubble covering his cheeks and chin, and the perfectly straight line of his nose. 

But it was his eyes that made something deep within me tremble. They were bright blue at their centre, ringing his wide and open pupils. The iris stretched out into a blurred navy, which was so dark at its edge that it appeared black, even in the warm lighting of the diner.

“No,” he said, those sinful lips pulling into a devilish smile. “I’m not.”

I felt his eyes on me as I re-filled his coffee cup, the sound of sloshing hot liquid hitting the china fracturing in my ears. Everything felt tense, on edge, in that moment, and then the cup filled. Yet I couldn’t seem to draw myself away, and I could still feel those bold, bright eyes gazing at me quizzically, curiously, that small smile still playing about his lips.

“Are you just visiting?” It was an unusual time of the year for tourists. Seafall was known for its coastline, making it a popular summer destination – not so much a hotspot for the winter holidays.

“No,” he drawled again, the smile settling as I met his eyes. I felt myself leaning closer, drawn in despite myself. Holding my gaze, he took a small, careful sip of his hot coffee. “This is delicious,” he said, his eyes flicking, just for a second, down to my mustard-yellow name badge. “Callie,” he added, saying my name as though he was testing out how it sounded.

The bell above the diner’s front door tinkled, a light and cheery sound, and the spell was broken. Tony, one of our older regulars, was wandering in, looking a little dazed, and I nodded to him in greeting. He offered me a little, friendly wave as he headed to the bar.

“Thanks,” I grinned, the spell between the stranger and I apparently broken. I turned to the stacked pile of white china cups, intending on grabbing one for Tony, when a smooth, warm hand grabbed my wrist. It was as though he carried lightening in his palm; his hand sent a shuddering wave of sparks through me, tingling across my skin and raising the tiny hairs on my forearm.

“My name is Cyrus,” he said urgently. Then, apparently realising what he’d just done, he dropped my wrist, staring at his hand in surprise.

“It’s nice to meet you, Cyrus.” My tone was unmistakably cold. No matter how handsome Cyrus was, I didn’t appreciate being grabbed. “I’ve got other customers to serve now. If you’ll excuse me,” I said, not bothering to wait for a reply.

“You told him,” Grace whispered, her eyes full of pride as I stalked away from Cyrus. But her gaze lingered on his eyes, on his lips, and she added, “God, he is handsome, though. It was like he just couldn’t resist you, Cals.”

“Still,” I whispered back, sure, for some reason, that Cyrus was listening in, “I don’t think it’s very polite to grab someone the first time you meet them.” I clattered the top coffee cup on the pile noisily as I spoke, only pulling it off properly once I’d finished.

“But you think he’s hot?”

I rolled my eyes. “Obviously. Not that it matters,” I added, a little louder. “I love Harper.”

Grace shrugged. “And I love Isabelle. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to look,” she giggled, nudging me with her elbow as she passed.

Isabelle was Grace’s girlfriend. I’d known Grace since before university, but she’d gone up to Manchester to study fine art. She’d met Isabelle there, and, despite the distance, they’d kept their relationship strong over the last few months. I’d stayed closer to home, picking a school on the south coast so that I could travel back to see my Dads easily, and at a moment’s notice, if needed.

I’d studied history, and specialised in folklore for my final year dissertation. Old tales of the supernatural, more specifically, and I’d excelled – one of the perks of hunting was being able to put archaic myths and legends into practice when out fighting them. I’d kept in close contact with the hunters at home, and, though I’d been less preoccupied with hunting during my three years of study, I’d managed to fit in a few excursions and taken down a good number of monsters in the process.

Harper had been more than willing to move back to Seafall with me. He’d grown up on the outskirts of Nottingham, and had longed to live by the coast. Fortunately for us both, he’d been offered a permanent position at the hospital he’d done one of his rotations in during his fourth year – one which just so happened to be the nearest large practise to Seafall.

There was a sudden ruffling of paper, and I shot a cautious glance towards Cyrus. He’d covered his face back up; I wasn’t sure if I was upset or relieved. His touch, though unwanted, had sent a shockwave of sparks up my arm.

I shook myself. I was neither upset nor relieved. Cyrus was a stranger, and, attractive though he might be, he was no substitute for Harper. Grace may feel comfortable eyeing him up, but something in my chest felt uneasy at the thought of meeting his bright blue gaze again – though I couldn’t work out why.

Other than Grace’s prying questions about the girl in the lake, and later Nick’s, too, when his shift started, the rest of my day passed easily and quickly. If anything, the interrogation – which they shared evenly, until Grace left a few hours before close – made the time go by much faster than usual, even though there wasn’t much else to say.

Nick had been particularly interested in the gruesome details of the story, and, though I'd rolled my eyes, I'd gleaned rather too much enjoyment out of embellishing my anecdote. He'd leant on the counter, one hand gripping a tea towel, his warm hazel eyes watching me unflinchingly as I'd described the surging blood pouring from her skin, pooling into the wet mud beneath her, staining the lapping lake water red in the cold morning light.

I'd been careful not to mention where, exactly, the blood had been pouring from - I'd thought that was better left unsaid. If anything, the hyperbolic descriptions of her bloodloss only furthered Nick's engagement with the tale. I'd half imagined him to whip out a pad and pen to take notes as I'd spoken, carefully allowing him to think that there had been too much blood for me to discern where its source was.

I’d tried to recall the story we’d told the police this morning, the hurried cover up that my Paps had smoothly told. We’d been out for an early-morning family walk – something we often did, of course, we were close-knit and outdoorsy, anyone could tell that from their waterproof clothing and hiking boots, if not the huge four-wheel drive car parked next to the lake – and we’d stumbled across the body by pure chance. We had definitely not been out looking to find one.

If Trigger was right, and a new clan of vampires had moved to Seafall, I wondered how we’d find them. There were hard-and-fast rules about vampires that were universally acknowledged within hunting circles, but even with our knowledge they were crafty and difficult to uncover.

Enjoying the surprisingly light-hearted tone of our conversation, I chose to take my break sat at the bar. Cyrus had remained tucked behind his newspaper, though he’d moved from the bar to one of the booths by the wide windows at around mid-morning. 

I’d shot him a few curious glances as I’d sipped at my coffee and tucked in to a cinnamon swirl, but he’d not given anything away. Later, he’d drawn out a ragged old book and a sleek laptop, and had stared intently at the screen, occasionally darting a look to the faded pages of the novel before frowning, a tiny dent forming between his thick, well-shaped eyebrows. Sometimes, a sudden grin would flash across his face, the dented line smoothing out in seconds as new life ran through him, his typing resuming with increased speed.

I didn’t realise that I’d been staring until Grace had elbowed me, her handbag over her shoulder and her apron off and rolled up in her hands.

“I can’t leave ‘til you finish your break. And that ended five minutes ago. Chop chop, Cals.”

I’d watched him with sharp eyes, later, as I’d wiped down the coffee machine. Cyrus was new to town – maybe he was one of the vampires Trigger was so sure had recently arrived. But he’d drunk coffee all day, and had a burger and fries around lunchtime – scarcely looking up from his work as he ate – and that was one of the first hard-and-fast rules about vampires: they didn’t eat.

I needed a night off, I decided. Close couldn’t come soon enough as the darkness drew in outside, the last of the stragglers packing up their things and heading out into the dimly lit car park. The sky was streaked with pink and gold, a glittering arch that was diminishing quickly into swathes across a navy backdrop.

“Callie?”

He’d startled me. My hand gripped the cloth in my surprise, my knuckles straining against my skin.

“Cyrus,” I breathed, relieved that it was just him. Now that I’d removed him from my potential-vampire list, his presence, though still causing a strange swelling in my chest and throat, no longer worried me. I offered him a tight-lipped smile. “What can I do for you?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he smiled. There was still something cocky about it – he had to know how good-looking he was – but it was almost nervous, too, especially when paired with the sincerity in his eyes, and the serious clench of his jaw. “You’ve been wonderful all day. I’ve not wanted for anything.”

“Well, I’m glad,” I said, leaning against the counter and grinning up at him. Despite his strange, old-fashioned speech, there was something easy-going and comforting about him. I found that I wanted to lean closer, despite myself; once again, I’d been drawn up into his steady, unfaltering gaze.

“I was actually wondering if you’d go for coffee with me, Callie.”

“Oh.” A blush began to creep up my neck. “I’m sorry, Cyrus, I, ah, I actually have a boyfriend. I don’t think it would be right.”

“You mistake my meaning. I apologise if I caused you any offence… either now, or with my rude grabbing this morning.” He pursed his lips before forcing his smile back into place. “I am new to the area, and it would be nice to make a friend.” He paused, his smile hesitant now, wavering. “If you would like that, too, of course.”

“Oh,” I said again, though my tone was entirely different, this time. My own smile solidified. “Well, in that case, sure.”

“I wish I knew where to invite you, but I’m afraid that this is your area of expertise, rather than mine.” He was smirking openly, now, his curved upper lip arrogant and sensual.

Grace would have been a wreck at that. I leant back, equally as confident, equally as cocky, and kept my gaze level. “I know just the place.”