Pasta-Gal

  Agatha fell back against the bed. She was heaving deep heavy breaths— blood dripped from her mouth. Her hand brushed the drops from her face as she sat here. Running on instinct she licked the blood off her hand cleaning herself like a lioness after a hunt.

  She looked down at the body in front of her, shriveled and limp. This poor man who’s home she broke into, neither truly knowing what their fate would be that night. His skin had tightened and tore as Agatha drained it of its moisture. Agatha’s cheeks were flushed, a calming, warm, tingling sensation washing over her. It was intoxicating, and she hated every minute of it.

  She flexed her hands— stretching them out and curling them into fists; painless. She pushed it further stretching her whole body in a series of eborate contortions. Her joints let out a series of satisfactory pops as she stretched out her back and neck.

  A short ugh escaped Agatha’s mouth. Her eyes swell, becoming wet— she broke down into a fit of pained ughter spilling tears on the blood stained wood.

  ***

  Agatha woke to the sound of a door smming, panting. She hadn't been asleep very long, as her and Lucas had only migrated into her bed maybe an hour ago. Rolling over Agatha noticed the absence in her bed. She darted up and scanned the room looking for any traces of Lucas.

  She made her way to her door and popped her head looking down the hallway to see if she could spot Lucas but there wasn't anyone there. Agatha let out a sigh and went to throw on some real clothes— she wasn’t in the mood to traipse about Chicago in her pajamas.

  She tilted her head in confusion as she stared at her closet. There was a small assortment of clothes strewn on the ground and her tops were completely rearranged. Did Lucas go through her closet? Why would he do that?

  Partly confused Agatha continued and went to grab her key. The coffee table— the pce she always put her keys was devoid of what she was looking for. Lucas stole her keys! Agatha went back into her bedroom and over to her bedside table. She opened the top drawer and shuffled around her current journal and various old letters until she procured the spare key. Since she moved here a few years ago she didn’t think she’d ever used it.

  Agatha technically didn’t even need the key to begin with, she figured out long ago that she could slip through the cracks of doors. She had to do that one night— Agatha left her keys on her desk at the library, too exhausted to travel all the way back she cautiously looked around the hallway before she passed through into her apartment. It was an ironic ability given the trope of vampires being unable to pass thresholds— Agatha found passing over thresholds quite trivial. A skill she regrettably honed to a fine science back when she needed to feed on living persons. It was easier to strike them in their home with their guard down than in the public streets or alleys. It is because of that connotation that Agatha refuses to use such an ability anymore— she hates remembering all the people she’s killed over the years— what’s worse is she doesn’t even remember most of them.

  Looking for a distraction Agatha twirled the key; today has already been difficult enough, what with William showing up out of nowhere. Nearly seventy glorious years without that piece of shit, and now he’s in Chicago. Agatha wouldn’t be surprised if he stalked her all the way here. Wouldn’t be the first time— God what did she ever see in him?

  Probably his iridescent eyes, or his built chest, or that way he managed to hold her just right… No! Not again. Agatha smacked her head against the wall a few times in hopes of knocking any sembnce of sense into her ancient skull.

  Agatha couldn’t trust herself to have a healthy retionship, over the decades she’s only had mishap after mishap— most of those by her own hands. When things looked like they were getting too close, too intimate she shut them down, ended things and moved on. She hated it but it was for the best— she only ever had one love and they were torn from her.

  Agatha forces herself back to the present. If she lingered for much longer she might not make it out the door; stuck in her own pool of trauma and self-pity.

  Lucas couldn’t have gotten too far yet there was a chance she could still find him before he vanished into the night. Although theoretically he should return here eventually, he did take her apartment key after, Agatha would much prefer to ensure that nothing else bad happened to Lucas. She had pushed him a little too quickly into his new life without thinking. She didn’t want him running off to get himself hurt.

  Agatha ran down the flight of stairs and opened the doors out into the street. A gust of summer air pushed against Agatha as she walked up the street. She didn’t spot anyone so she was working purely off of luck.

  Agatha tried to formute a thought process, anything she could think of as to why and where Lucas could have run off too. For starters she was almost certain he had raided her closet, her favorite blouse was missing as well as skirt, although the missing skirt could have been her own fault— she was notoriously bad at hanging them up.

  Was he going back to his apartment? If so why would he steal her keys?

  Agatha made her way to an intersection, a diner sat across the street. It looked entirely empty except for one girl sitting alone at a booth. Agatha went back to searching looking up and down the other street before her eyes eventually wandered back to the girl in the diner.

  That blouse looked a little familiar. Good as her night vision might be she decided to get a little closer. As she crossed the street a man emerged from an alleyway behind the diner, he stumbled as he approached the door. Agatha ignored him and made her way swiftly past the door, cautiously towards the girl in the booth. As she passed she gnced the person… that was definitely Lucas.

  She wanted to eavesdrop, she knew she shouldn’t but she was curious why Lucas had come out here, especially dressed like that. Agatha couldn’t help herself and ducked into an alley and willed her self into a more inconspicuous form. Her body stung all over like it was being pricked by hundreds of needles as she slowly shrunk and hunched over. A moment ter she emerged from the alley way in the form of a small fluffy calico cat. Agatha went and perched herself right outside the window below where Lucas was sitting.

  After a little while her ears perked up to a noise from inside and she peered in to see a waitress had emerged and begun to unload quite a rge amount of food onto the table. She couldn’t quite pce it but the waitress looked familiar. Agatha watched as the waitress hesitated, nearly blushing, for a moment before sliding into the opposite seat.

  As the two began to talk Agatha found herself become more uncomfortable listening in. She was about to leave when the waitress asked for Lucas’ name. To which he replied; Petra.

  She definitely wasn’t supposed to hear this. Agatha began to pace back and forth her cws digging into the concrete. She paused— looked back towards her apartment and bounded off back to where she belonged.

  Agatha let her form unfurl as she approached her apartment— her paws elongating back into fingers and toes, her tail retreating into her spine. It was a strange sensation to grow into a rger form, it was a little more freeing— all that matter no longer confined to such a tiny body.

  Rushing up the stairs Agatha slotted her spare key into the lock and twisted it open. She made her way into her bedroom and bounced as she fell into her mattress. Her suspicions had been all but confirmed. But it wasn’t her pce to snoop. Agatha pulled her legs up close to her chest, her hands csped in front of her shins.

  She took a series of quick breaths then let out a long slow sigh. She could handle it better this time. Lucas, Petra… whatever was her friend— she would support him.

  “Damn it,” she whispered to herself.

  As Agatha sat on her bed the faintest sound of police sirens bred in the background.

  ***

  Agatha watched as Sally ran around the park, chasing after their dog. Sally had just turned eight that previous week and had finally worn her parents down enough to get her a dog, a border collie Sally had named Gerald. A terrible name in Agatha’s opinion but Gerald was a gift for her daughter so did she really even have a say.

  The air was fresh and crisp— with spring teetering on the cusp of summer. Agatha had never really cared for spring, she found it too wet, which usually made it even more uncomfortable than winter. To add on top of that there was also allergies to worry about; an ongoing issue with Agatha her whole life. Although next to her other issues getting a little sniffley for a few weeks hardly seemed like an issue at all.

  She leaned forward, pressing herself into her cane. She was having a good day today. She rarely had been having those ever since Sally was born, and Agatha tried to capitalize on the opportunity when she could. It was a shame Brian wouldn’t join them. He deserved a break. Tensions all around the world had been slowly rising the past few years and poor Brian has been worried sick.

  Agatha hoped it would fade over time but he acts more queer everyday. It worries her.

  She returned her attention back to Sally who was now running away from Gerald, she was waving a stick behind her, tempting the dog as she ran. In an instant Gerald had pounced towards the stick and snatched it from Sally’s grip.

  Sally let out a yelp as she fell on to her knees gripping her hand tightly. Agatha as quickly as her body would allow made her way over to Sally to inspect what the fuss was about. Gerald had id down and began happily gnawing on the stick as Agatha looked over Sally’s palm.

  It seems that when Gerald pulled the stick out of Sally’s hand the bark and knots splintered just enough to carve several gashes out of her palm. The blood had started to drip from her hand into the grass. Agatha pulled from her bag a small cloth and tied it tightly around her daughter’s hand and kissed her gently on the forehead.

  “Come along, we’ll head back home a little early. Get you cleaned up proper.” Sally nodded quietly, tears streaking down her face.

  Agatha pat her leg quickly, summoning the attention of Gerald who looked up obediently and waltzed over to her side. She scratched his head. Agatha always used to think of herself as more of a cat person but she was quickly finding herself smitten by the young border collie.

  Sally’s tears had nearly dried by the time they had arrived back to their family home. Agatha guided Sally over onto a chair and sat her down gently.

  “I’ll be right back. Need to fetch somethings to clean that wound up,” Agatha ruffled Sally’s hair slightly, eliciting a smile from the little girl.

  Agatha walked towards the bedroom where she kept such things. It was good to keep them out of reach of a young child, no matter how smart Sally seemed to be she didn’t want her getting herself senselessly hurt. As she opened up the door to her and Brian’s room she found herself faced with a peculiar sight.

  “What in heaven’s name are you doing?” Agatha cringed as she stared at her husband wearing one of her Sunday dresses.

  ***

  There was someone at the door. Agatha could smell them. She tore herself from the comforts of her bed and went to investigate. The smell of blood was a rare occasion within the apartment complex. And usually meant someone was hurt.

  Agatha peered into the peephole. Seeing who was behind the door Agatha opened to door as quickly as she could revealing the grisly sight of a blood drenched Lucas in front of her. The blouse and skirt looking just as unsalvageable as Lucas’s clothes days earlier.

  “Oh God, what happened to you,” Agatha’s hands csped around her mouth.

  Meanwhile another door opened just down the hall. Lucas didn’t seem to notice but Agatha saw the head of that waitress poke out slightly before her eyes grew wide and quickly shut the door. Agatha pulled Lucas into her apartment and Lucas pulled Agatha into a teary hug.

  Pasta-Gal