I had to meet with my friend Adam, Werewolf and brilliant photographer. Until a year ago I didn’t know he was a Werewolf and he didn’t know I was a Vampire. We kept our secrets better than most, for sometimes we CAN tell when folks aren’t regular humans. When we found out each others secret it wasn’t pretty. We both were feeling a bit violent and betrayed and out of sorts.
He touched my neck where he’d tried to rip out my throat a year ago. A faint scar still lingered. “I’m surprised I didn’t kill you.”
I shrugged it off then stepped back out of his reach.
He continued to talk. “You must have taken 50 gallons of blood out of me over the past 15 years. I still can’t believe I never caught on.”
I declined to comment and asked him if I could see his latest work, the items he was going to put in a major museum exhibit.
“Don’t you want to talk about it? Vampires always want to talk.”
He was so attractive in that overly masculine hairy man sort of way that took away the breath of women before they even knew what hit them. I just saw him as a dog, which was rather disturbing considering everything that had transpired between us in the past.
I had to ask him, “Do any regular humans know you’re a Werewolf?”
“Not to my knowledge or at least they don’t understand what they saw. If they repeat it people will think they’re crazy. I don’t TELL anyone. You know, I don’t need any dog catchers coming my way”. After the 1880’s his kind was almost made extinct out our way. He lived among the regular folks but he was wary as a wild animal, putting on the charm and living in the world of regular people.
He stepped closer to me, within arms length. “Friends?”
“Always,” I said.
When you’re part of the shadows and mystery surrounded by secrets and lies, a mystery wrapped in an enigma, a good friend, even if he is a Werewolf, is a true blessing.
~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman