Ember tied her apron around her waist before knocking on the door.
‘Yeah?’ the gruff voice echoed from inside.
She stepped into the windowless office tucked at the back of the café.
Harry was drowning in paperwork under his lamp as he sat hunched over his desk, his thick-rimmed glasses masking his gaunt face, the magnification emphasising the bags under his eyes.
Ember closed the door behind herself in the cramped space before slipping sideways into the metal chair on the far side of his desk.
‘So?’ he asked, his eyes locked on hers.
‘I passed,’ she said, the first time she had uttered the words to another human being since she’d got back from the Lowtown–Midtown border two hours before.
His gaze dropped immediately. He tidied a few sheets of paperwork on his desk. He nodded. ‘Well done,’ he said, before finally making eye contact again, albeit fleetingly. But even in that brief moment the minor glossing in his eyes was visible, despite the shadows cast on his face.
She tried to remind herself this was just a job. At least that was how it had started. Fifteen years later, it had become far more than that. Harry had become far more than that. Harry Winslow had become the father she’d never known. He might have been a man of few words, and irritable most of the time, forever carrying the world on his shoulders, but he was always there for her.
‘You always were too good for this place, Ember.’
‘Too good for an honest day’s work?’
His smile was brief. ‘So when are you leaving me in the lurch?’
‘The twenty-fourth.’
‘Next week?’
‘I’ll work right up to the final hour.’
Harry nodded again. ‘Then you’d best go and tell Casey the news. That girl’s been pacing the last few hours.’
Ember stood. There were so many things she wanted to say as he reverted his attention back to his paperwork. Maybe too many things for that moment. So instead of saying anything at all, she turned her back on him, resolving to save it for another time.
‘She’ll miss you, you know,’ he said, just as she reached the handle.
Her grip tightened.
‘We all will,’ he added.
She wanted to look back over her shoulder. She wanted to meet his gaze. But she couldn’t for fear of him seeing the tears that smeared her vision. She couldn’t do it to him. And he’d understand that.
She stepped back out into the small passageway and closed the door behind her. Clearing her clogging throat, she headed down past the staff toilets, the lockers, the utility door on her left, and then the kitchen, before taking a right into the café.
From behind the counter, Ember clocked Casey to her left, stood with her back to her as she served a customer. To her right, Yvonne looked straight over. As Ember promptly signalled with a thumb up, Yvonne responded with a wink and a smile before turning her attention back to serving.
Grabbing her order pad and pen from under the counter, Ember tucked them in her apron.
It was quieter than usual. Away from the hustle and bustle of the more central establishments in Lowtown, Harry’s place was rarely overrun with customers. It was primarily used by those who liked to keep themselves to themselves, who liked to enjoy a quiet and uncomplicated drink or a simple meal without needing to constantly check over their shoulder. As such, it had never been a thriving business, barely keeping its head above water by relying mainly on the regulars. Regulars who, to the financial detriment of the place, never had money to burn.
The biggest profit limiter, though, was closing the doors at nine, shutting out the most lucrative hours. But it also kept his staff and his customers from having to contend with the night crowds.
Residents of Blackthorn – unless they were the tagged cons – were allowed to cross the border into Lowtown from dusk until an hour before sunrise. In the beginning, it had mostly been about acquiring produce or deals. Now one of the increasing reasons for Blackthorn residents to enter Lowtown was to gather feeders for vampire sires, offering humans locked in Lowtown’s dead-end system a better way of life either there or back in Blackthorn. In truth, they were no better than the human gang members now notorious for offering the exact same lies.
It was why she maintained a watchful eye on Casey, the lull most likely the reason why she was allowing herself time to chat or, as quickly became apparent, flirt. Casey was never short of attention, pretty girl that she was. She had good survival instincts though, so knew how to deflect to the best of her ability. But now she was being remiss, no doubt influenced by how good-looking the young guy was. Because that was how vampire sires operated: sending their most appealing gatherers out, primarily human in order to distract from obvious intentions.
Ember scanned the café again. Jasper, sat in in his usual seat in the furthest corner to her right, looked up from his book, and Ember offered him a wave. The old guy had been coming there almost the entire time she had worked there. Two coffees twice a week were all his limited budget would allow, but he knew how to make them last an entire morning or afternoon – and Ember knew how to sneak him an extra fill-up or two on the colder days, or when he looked like he needed the company. She referred to it as the loyal customer bonus scheme. And more than once, Harry had removed the money she’d placed in the till and shoved it back in her pocket.
That was how Harry ran his business. He could have played it differently, but he chose not to. And, thus far, he was one of the few lucky ones who hadn’t been involuntarily dragged into the seedy underworld by the human gangs whose tendrils had long been squeezing the lifeblood out of Lowtown. Instead, he refused to be sucked into the disillusionment and resentment of the system that had allowed the gangs to thrive, feeding off misfortune to better their own odds, dismissive of the irony of their oppression of those less powerful in their bid to rebel against the Global Council that did the exact same to them. A few – namely the Hordas clan and the Voys – dominated the various factions, the best jobs and opportunities reserved for those who were in with the right people as had become the norm.
Instead of working nineteen-hour days in that windowless cubbyhole to barely make ends meet, Harry could have earned more, but his life wouldn’t have been his own any longer. His two daughters wouldn’t have been his own. He’d forever be in debt, and could forever be called upon to repay by whatever means the debt collectors judged suitable.
Rather, he hoped his unblemished record would mean he’d one day be able to give his two girls the chance Ember was now taking – a chance she had now proved was possible. With Iona months away from becoming eighteen, she could have been the first, her sixteen-year-old sister only a couple of years behind.
Leaning back against the counter, Ember glanced back at Casey, who was still uncharacteristically oblivious to her presence, before turning her attention to the dusk-laden street beyond.
She’d tallied up five days since he’d last been in – the guy whose name she still didn’t know. In the six months he’d been coming there, he’d never introduced himself. Every time she’d served him, he’d barely even made eye contact let alone shown any interest beyond that. It piled on the evidence as to why even attributing thinking time to him was irrational, him no doubt more firmly rooted in her head than she was in his.
Nonetheless, he’d become her guilty pleasure, the potential of his presence always something to look forward to. Beyond that, there was reassurance in seeing him; knowing he’d survived another day. It felt absurd that someone who she’d barely spoken to had become such a significant part of her life – had consumed so many of her thoughts – but he had.
Worrying whenever he didn’t show up had taken her into new territory though. She knew she couldn’t afford to feel attached to him; she’d worked hard not to feel attached to him. Because the only thing she did know about her nameless stranger was the very reason she shouldn’t have been paying him any attention at all. Because despite not once ever having seen him smile, she had managed to catch a glimpse of those extra incisors characteristic of his kind. Incisors used to feed.
From the first time she’d seen them, she’d worked hard not to judge, especially as his frequenting the café as much during the day as early evening confirmed that he was a Lowtown resident and, as such, would have earned his place. For some people that was enough to lower their guard, but even if Ember hadn’t been on the cusp of leaving, she’d never lower her guard around a vampire. Ever.
So whatever it was that he did, whatever business he conducted in that café, it remained a mystery. A different person met with him every time. There was never the laughter and smiles of a casual meeting, just the firm shaking of hands at the beginning and at the end. Sometimes the meeting would last a few minutes, other times as long as a couple of hours. And that was it. Mr Mysterious, as Casey had nicknamed him, would, it seemed, now remain forever that.
Casey who finally turned around and, in doing so, yanked Ember back to the present. She instantly realised she’d been twisting her engagement ring around her forefinger again which she regularly did, according to Casey, when she was thinking about her stranger. The engagement ring she’d replaced the moment she’d got back to her apartment to prepare for work.
‘Well?’ Casey mouthed, her lips remaining parted in anticipation.
As reality sank in for the second time that night, Ember sent her a small nod and a smile.
Casey beamed, her eyes glinting with elation. She turned to say something to the customer she’d been flirting with and, seconds later, the friend she’d come to think of more as her little sister joined her behind the counter, her eyes wide with delight. ‘It’s a yes?’
‘Date set for the twenty-fourth. If I pass the final medical at the border, I’m in.’
Casey let out a squeal before wrapping her arms unceremoniously around her. ‘You did it! You actually did it!’
Glancing over Casey’s shoulder mid-hug, Ember’s stomach flipped, her gaze meeting his momentarily as he stepped through the door. Her heart pounded as he turned left towards one of the booths.
‘Let me finish this order and you can tell me all about it,’ Casey said, before pulling away towards the coffee machine.
As usual, her stranger flicked through his phone whilst waiting to be served, that permanent frown darkening his expression as he remained locked in concentration.
She removed her order pad, nervously but discreetly clicked the top of her pen a couple of times, hoping, being nearby, that Yvonne would get to him first. But Yvonne had only just started her next order.
With another couple of clicks of her pen, Ember conceded and forced herself away from the counter. As always, she was grateful he didn’t look up to watch her approach, her excessive awareness of her every movement making her feel awkward enough.
‘What can I get you?’ she asked.
As if she didn’t know: black coffee and a glass of tap water.
‘Black coffee, please,’ he said, meeting her gaze only fleetingly out of polite acknowledgement before reverting his attention back to his phone. ‘And a glass of tap water.’
She glanced down at his thumb that swiped the screen; at masculine hands with short, clean nails. No wedding ring. Nails that were as meticulously maintained as his stubble and closely cropped but full head of light-brown hair.
It was difficult to tell the age of vampires. They weren’t immortal like stories of old dictated. Instead, as soon as vampires, as with all third species, reached their peak, their aging drastically slowed down. In human years, he looked to be in his mid-to-late thirties, given away only by the subtle evidence of lines at the corners of his eyes. She guessed that was why he wore the facial hair – maybe to age him a little because his features were otherwise youthful, exacerbated by his large, soulful eyes. Intense, dark brown eyes in a constant state of pensive observation. Because whenever he did manage to look her in the eye, even though only fleetingly, she felt it somewhere deep, as if he was withdrawing information from her with just a glance.
But despite his attractiveness, despite the care he took over his appearance, he never came across as overly bothered by his looks. His clothes were always understated as if to blend rather than attract attention: dark jeans, grey T-shirt or hoody, waist-length jacket that he buttoned up around his neck against the breeze.
She never once saw him smooth down his hair, or check himself in the glass, or readjust his clothes. His lack of vanity was a theory reinforced by his lack of indulgence in the female attention he got. He didn’t even raise a smile when someone was clearly flirting with him. Instead, he had that same severe frown as if they were an imposition on his time, as if he were even questioning their presence near him. For that reason, approaching him always felt awkward.
‘On its way,’ she said, wishing she could come up with something more original, realising she’d become as predictable in her responses as he was in his requests.
Stepping back behind the counter, grabbing a mug and a glass, she glanced back over her shoulder to where Casey had resumed her position with the guy. Her stomach lurched as she saw Casey’s left hand furtively brush his; tucked something in her apron pocket along with her notepad.
Leaving his full cup of coffee behind, the guy promptly left, but not before sending Casey a wink and a smile on his way out of the door.
And not before he met Ember’s gaze briefly in the process.
‘Yvonne, I’m going to need you to cover for a few minutes,’ Ember said, backing up to her colleague who was already stood at the coffee machine. ‘Usual on table six.’
‘I’ll yell if the stampede arrives,’ Yvonne remarked, not needing to make eye contact to confirm her flippancy.
On her way back over, Casey’s smile dropped the second her eyes met Ember’s again; the second she took in her demeanour. The second she worked out she’d been spotted. Because five years of knowing Casey meant Ember recognised her panicked and guilty face.
Ember indicated the doorway to the corridor. And Casey knew better than to argue to the contrary.
‘Ember…’ Casey began, not yet having time to come up with an excuse.
‘What did he give you?’
Casey rolled her eyes. ‘Come on…’
‘What did he give you, Casey?’
With a heavy sigh, Casey pulled the business card from her apron pocket.
Ember reached for it but Casey snatched it back.
‘Are you going to convince me not to date now too?’ Casey asked. ‘On top of everything else I should and shouldn’t be doing?’
‘You know as well as I do how this works. He’s working for a sire. It’s written all over him.’
‘Or maybe he’s just a nice guy who has showed interest.’ She folded her arms. ‘If you must know, it’s not the first time we’ve met. He’s not been pushy or anything. We met in a bar.’
‘Where?’
‘Here in Lowtown.’
At least she didn’t say Blackthorn. Nonetheless, Casey had never been that negligent. She was either at work or was at home looking after her mother.
‘Since when have you been going to bars?’ Ember asked, keeping her tone as calm as she could.
Casey held her gaze for a few moments as if deliberating her response.
‘What has he offered you, Casey?’
Casey rubbed the back of her neck as she looked over her shoulder, wary of being overheard. ‘Things haven’t been good, OK?’ she said, lowering her voice. ‘With Mum. She’s on the downward spiral again. She hasn’t even been able to get out of bed the past two weeks.’
Her mother had developed depression ten years before when Casey had just turned eleven. Deemed as a blight on the system, they’d been evicted from their home in Midtown within a matter of a year. The last ten years had been a downward spiral for her mother ever since.
‘Medication?’ Ember asked. ‘Is that what he’s offered you? Casey, you know as well as I do that anything they ship out on the streets and in bars isn’t the real thing. They’re just money spinners, preying on people who are desperate.’
‘Yeah, well, I don’t have much choice, do I? I can’t afford the prices the legitimate dealers are constantly upping, let alone cope with the increasingly sporadic supplies. Mum needs consistency. I can’t afford to buy in bulk and she can’t afford to miss a dose. The erratic supplies are screwing with her system.’
For the last few years in particular, the dealers were buying all the supplies the second they came in, then increasing the prices before selling them on. The Hordas clan were rumoured to be at the heart of it, treating Lowtown like a Monopoly board and using lives to gain one-upmanship against their only true rival: the Voys.
‘You know what it’s like better than anyone,’ Casey reminded her. ‘What with everything you went through.’
Ember didn’t take the bait. Discussing her past right now would do neither of them any good. ‘I’m out of here in just over a week. I will get you the money you need. I will get you the medication you need. The real stuff.’
‘You’ll barely be able to afford living there yourself for the first year, Ember. Besides, I’m not your responsibility and neither is Mum. You’ve helped us out enough. I need to stand on my own two feet. Now more than ever.’
Ember felt the second pang that night, the first over leaving Harry – and now her.
‘Being a feeder is not going to make that happen, Casey. You know that’s ultimately what this is about. He’s reeling you in and using this to do so.’
‘Then what else do I do? I’m not getting out of here. Ever. Even if I could one day raise enough money to get back into Midtown, I’m not smart like you are. I’d never pass half of their tests. Besides, there’s not a hope in hell of Mum gaining residency again and I’m not leaving her behind. I need to focus on making a life for us here. Siring can work really well, even you have to admit that. And he reckons I can get myself a good one – someone who will really look after me and Mum.’
‘For every one it works for, there are nine for whom it doesn’t. Casey–’
Casey caught hold of both of Ember’s forearms, her eyes resolute – eyes of desperation thinking they were seeing light at the end of the tunnel when Ember knew all it was was someone lighting a match to burn down the exit.
‘Ember, we can’t all do what you’ve done. And I’ve accepted that. My mum needs me now. I need this now. I need to make my own choices. I need to find my own way through.’
She squeezed Ember’s hand before pulling away and making her way back out.
Ember raked her hands down over her face as she sighed with frustration before following behind her.
She stepped back behind the counter to see her stranger was already heading out of the door. He hadn’t waited for his coffee, or his water.
Heart sinking, she watched him pass the window outside, lifting the collar on his jacket to fend off the cold evening breeze.
And she watched him not look back.