She was beautiful.

When she first entered, I was the only one to raise my head. She glanced quickly around the room, making eye contact with no one as she quickly crept into the bar. Her hair was raven black, barely peeking out of the hood she wore over her head. The dark halo and anguished eyes below it made me think of an angel, my dark angel come to visit me.

I continued to sip my beer, watching the news on the television and surreptitiously casting glances in her direction. After a few minutes the bartender noticed the newcomer and asked her what she wanted. She ordered a glass of wine, still maintaining her steadfast eye contact with the bar's polished surface. The time slowly crept by and I continued to watch her, wondering about her life and the pain that shone from her eyes. After what seemed an eternity, she reached into her pocket and removed a few bills. She gently placed them on the bar and then stuffed her hands into her pockets, turning toward the door. I tossed a five on the bar and hurried to follow her.

By the time I got out, she was gone. I looked around quickly, feeling a sharp pain in my chest. Had I lost this angelic being who had so suddenly entered my life? I lowered my head and sighed, beginning to walk in the direction of my apartment.

As I neared the alley, I heard a low sobbing, as if someone were trying to muffle their crying. The sound was incredibly pitiful, but the only feeling it aroused in me was one of curiosity. It occurred to me that it may be my dark beauty who shed her tears alone in the dark passageway, but that no longer seemed important. My mind had already moved beyond her.

I stood at the entrance of the alley for a moment, trying to see if I could distinguish a figure in the cloaking shadows. The crying stopped while I stood there and I began to continue on.

As I neared the next building, a hardware store closed for the night, I heard a voice call out to me, asking me to please wait. I stopped in mid-step and turned, facing the alley. I made no gesture or reassuring word to signal my compliance; I merely stood there waiting.

After a few moments she emerged, as breath taking with tear streaks on her pale cheeks as when I'd first seen her. But for some reason she held little attraction for me now, she was just a lovely woman who tried to console herself in a dark alley. Maybe I had hoped for some instant connection that she'd also feel. Lacking it, she'd faded into the background of my mind. It seemed callous but that realization changed nothing for me. She was just a sad face that could have been in any primetime drama.

I stood staring at her, completely silent. I saw doubt cloud her eyes, probably thinking that stopping me had been a mistake. She shuddered with a suppressed sob then steeled herself, obviously preparing for the upcoming conversation.

"I saw you in the bar. I thought that maybe you'd uh, I mean, that you might..." She trailed off, uncertain how to phrase what was on her mind.

"That maybe I'd lend and ear to your problems?" I finished for her. "Is that what you mean?"

"Yes," she said, obviously relieved that I understood. "You seemed nice in the bar, I thought that maybe I could talk to you. I was just too afraid to approach you inside."

I stood motionless, watching her fidget nervously as she waited for my response. I watched her intently for a moment, thinking ahead to see if I had anything else to do. The night seemed pretty bleak, consisting only of walking home and watching TV until I dozed off. A conversation with a beautiful woman didn't seem all that bad, considering the alternative.

"Would you like to go somewhere to talk?" I asked. "There's an all-night diner just around the corner where we could talk and have a cup of coffee."

She was visibly relieved that I hadn't turned her away. The poor girl, she was so tightly wound I could see the tension flow out of her body. She raised a quivering hand to her brow, brushing a stray lock of hair off her forehead. She smiled tentatively at me and said, "That would be great."

I flashed my most dazzling smile at her and said, "Then that's what we'll do," and began to walk in the direction of the diner. Her smile widened and she fell in step next to me.

On our little stroll she remained silent, allowing me a chance to examine my dark angel more closely. Despite her timid appearance, she had a very confident step. She wore a shin-length trench coat, tightly bound by a sash at her waist. at first glance it appeared to be cheap, coming from any number of retail stores. But a closer look showed that that appearance was caused by the considerable dust and road grime settled onto its fabric. On a more careful evaluation the coat seemed very well made, a midnight black material that looked like a very fine wool. She hadn't bothered buttoning the top few buttons of the coat and as she walked I caught glimpses of an elegant evening gown, a black or deep violet dress that appeared to have a dark blue swirl on it. The gown, along with the pearl necklace, earrings, and dark high heels, suggested that she had just come from a very formal dinner. From her appearance now, it seemed that maybe she'd stormed out of a restaurant, angry at her dinner partner, and decided to find somewhere else to spend the evening.

In a short while we reached the diner. Stepping inside I could feel a very perceptible change in temperature, from the cold night air to the warmth of the diner. There were several people in the diner, even at this late hour. I guess even a town as small as this never truly sleeps.

We settled into a back booth, away from the windows. We sat there in nervous silence until a waitress appeared to take our orders, both decaffeinated coffee. The waitress wandered off and we both were silent for a few moments.

"I'd like to thank you," she said. "I mean, for stopping back there."

"No problem," I returned. "You looked like you needed someone to talk to and I had nothing better to do." A strange look crossed her face when I said this, but I couldn't tell what. It seemed a mixture of anger, sadness, and disappointment. I had no idea why I felt they were all directed at me personally. The waitress returned just then with our coffees and a small dish of creamers.

"Well, thanks anyway," she whispered as she reached for a packet of sugar. I drank mine black. "My name is Angeline. My friends call me Angel." I had to try my hardest right then not to smile. The coincidence was a little disturbing.

"My name is Nathaniel, Nathan for short," I returned, slowly sipping from my steaming cup. "Is there anything you wanted to talk about?"

"Yes, I, I broke up with my long-time boyfriend about an hour ago. It didn't end pleasantly between us," she said, as she took a large drink from her cup.

"How so?" I inquired.

"I had to kill him."

My eyebrows rose at her stark admittal. She watched me for a moment, judging my reaction. Then she said, "You don't believe me."

"Oh no, I do. I'm just curious as to why you would so readily admit such a thing."

"Because I like you. And because you won't tell anyone."

"I won't, huh? And what makes you think I won't go to the phone right now and call the police?"

"Because I won't let you."

The quiet confidence with which she said this caught me by surprise. Imagine a girl as small as this telling me what she will or won't let me do. The absurdity struck me as hilarious. I laughed for a moment then looked her in the eye. "And just how do you propose to stop me?" I asked, beginning to be glad I'd followed her out of the bar.

"Because I said so." Her eyes seemed to take on a red glow as she spoke. "You see, my boyfriend didn't believe me either. After dinner I told him what I was. He was horrified, threatened to call the police and have me destroyed. I could see there would be no convincing him, so I drained his blood and broke his neck." She stated this very matter-of-factly as her eyes began to glow even more. When she got to the part of drinking his blood, she bared her teeth and I could see her canines begin to elongate. "And now," she whispered, "you will join him. Give me your hand."

Curious, looking into her red eyes, I complied. She gingerly grabbed my hand and rotated it, so that the wrist was exposed. Opening her mouth wider and sitting forward, she moved toward my wrist and bit down. And groaned.

"Now, don't you feel foolish?" I asked. She looked up sharply, sudden fear in her eyes. My wrist was completely unmarked.

"What, what are you?" she stammered.

"Something far older than your kind, you pathetic blood drinker. My kind existed long before you and yours were even dreamt of." Her eyes widened in growing fear, it seemed she'd heard of us. She sat back, trying to distance herself as much as possible. "Now," I said, "give me your hand."

She stared into my softly glowing blue eyes, apparently trying to fight my will. Slowly, she raised her arm unwillingly, placing her hand in mine with a look of terror in her eyes. I closed my hand around hers, never taking my eyes off of hers. "Next time, try to be more careful in your selection of meals," I whispered. I clenched my hand and hers turned to ash in my palm, which slowly sifted to the table. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she began to let out a high, warbling scream. She clutched her burnt stump of an arm to her chest and continued to scream.

"Take this as a warning," I whispered to her. She looked at me and hissed, baring her fangs. Then she disappeared in a flash of light, leaving behind the faint scent of dried rose petals.

I continued sipping my coffee, listening to the puzzled murmurs of the other customers and studying the ash in the center of the table. When my cup was empty, I placed three dollars on the table and stood. In front of me stood a man in a white apron, the cook who had apparently been chosen to see what was wrong.

"Is there a problem?" he asked in a gruff voice, at once trying to sound threatening and nonchalant.

"Oh no, not at all," I said, feigning surprise. "Is something wrong?"

He suddenly seemed puzzled. "We heard a lady's scream and..." He didn't seem to know what else to say.

"Strange, I didn't hear a thing," I said, stepping past him. I heard him mumbling confusedly behind me as I made my way toward the door. I ignored the curious and wary glances alike, walking slowly toward the exit.

As soon as I was outside, I chuckled and began walking toward my apartment. I was looking forward to seeing "I Love Lucy".

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