Isobelle was cold, but she was always cold these days so it didn’t matter. Nothing really mattered when you got to be her age, other than making sure no-one realised that you were three hundred and seventy nine years old. Thank hell she didn’t have to contend with the kind of restrictions the books had always told her she would, she didn’t have to stay out of the sun for fear of burning, or avoid garlicky dishes. In fact she could still eat human food, although she had to throw it up afterwards, but eating was one of the ways she was able to blend in, that and having a normal non-nocturnal life not like some kind of obvious demon of the night.
Over the years she’d tried changing her looks but very little stayed, her body instantly healed so piercings were soon pushed out, her hair somehow returned to it’s natural long dark tresses and no matter how long she stood under one of those tanning sprays she was soon a pale beauty again. It made her laugh how well she fit into human’s stereotypes of her people now. Dark hair, pale skin, startlingly pale eyes and her ice cold temperature.
She’d learnt to temper her hunger, and like many others of her kind she didn’t touch the good humans. The every day idiot bumbling around, the kind school teacher or even the arrogant cop who tried to give her a speeding ticket last week. She’d soon been able to persuade him out of that, one whispered suggestion and it was just a slap on the wrist. She wasn’t above using persuasion on them even if she didn’t eat them. She could have gone full veggie like her sister in Alaska, but she didn’t have the patience to wait for animals to grow, and even if she had the patience she got far too attached to them to be able to slaughter them like Gia did. So instead Isobelle hunted the shadows, catching the monsters that were far worse than herself, the ones that somehow escaped the human type of justice. She’d catch the stalkers, the rapists, the murderers and drain them, then dispose of their bodies at the funeral home her little brother Marco ran, trading a warm body for his discretion. That was one thing they’d learnt over the years, they needed to get rid of the bodies otherwise people started asking questions. And since Marco didn’t like hunting it was a convenient trade for them to make.
It was on one of her hunts that Isobelle had first met Susan, the human detective who was her total opposite. With her wild, curly blonde hair, constantly sun kissed skin and rich chocolate eyes.
Susan wasn’t only physically her opposite but she also had an endless optimism that bounced off Isobelle’s own scepticism, and a never ending supply of warm smiles and kind words that at first had grated on Isobelle’s nerves but she soon grew to adore. As a private detective Isobelle often took cases on that were quick and easy to solve, or the ones where she could use her persuasion to find the answers, so she looked to be a success and her darker tracking was hidden. It wouldn’t do to be a PI and have all your suspects disappear after all. And that was how her path crossed Susan’s two years ago.
There had been something that attracted Isobelle to the woman instantly and it wasn’t the usual pull of the blood running through the veins, but instead something more human. As they spent time dancing around each other the past years she’d grown to enjoy her time with Susan, as well as becoming more attracted to her but she wouldn’t act on it. Like animals, humans had a limited life and Isobelle would not subject herself to that heartbreak voluntarily. She wasn’t like Marco with a new woman in his bed every night, or like Gia with her one husband she trusted enough to reveal her secret to and turn. She sat somewhere in between, dating but nothing serious and only for the physical moments. Susan deserved more than that. And so Isobelle let her go, instead standing as a friend who bantered and argued over cases and occasionally hit the happy hour for martinis.
Susan’s hand brushed against her forearm, before jumping back quickly, pulling Isobelle from her musings. “Sorry, I always forget how cold you are.” She smiled apologetically.
Isobelle never forgot how warm Susan was, how her life-force seemed to radiate heat from her body. Not since the first accidental brush of their hands when Susan had passed her some case notes a year, seven months and sixteen days ago.
“It’s fine. Sorry, was in my own world.”
“Ready to come back to the real world and help me with this case?”
“Always.” Isobelle returned Susan’s smile. Something she found herself doing more and more easily.