Vampires are unnaturally cold. Some people call it the “sticky chill”. I think there’s an irony hidden there. Living things have blood, a liquid that pumps through veins and arteries and an occasional heart, and if one were to shove their hand through the flesh, they’d find the sensation: sticky. Like the sweet honey trickled on toast. Vampires don’t have blood, but they do have a coldness. Their honey is the cold.  

      It was that exact sensation that I was waiting for, standing in an ill-lit mall parking lot late at night, purposefully drenched in tempting darkness. An easy target.  

      Oddly enough, the second its breath graced the nape of my neck, I ran. Or rather, my body did. My legs took off in a jolt of lighting, heart beating like a little rabbit spotted by the big bad fox.  

      Wind whizzing past me, I couldn’t help but think of the hours spent pacing around in my lonesome apartment, stomach lurching at the thought of putting a gun to my head, too nauseous to even bother with pills, and certainly lacking the will to tie a rope around my neck while teetering on a rickety wooden chair. The best option: let someone else do it for me.  

      And yet I fucking ran. As if death was something that I had no choice in being afraid of, no matter how deliberately I sought it out. Thankfully, vampires are much faster than humans.  

      There was a whisper of a whistle next to me and then— 

      Crack. 

      I was being pummeled into the snow, my side feeling as though it was being ripped apart by sneering thorns of vine. A cry of pain shot from my throat. Frozen skin gripped my arms, pinning me.  

      “I want your heart.” 

        Its face was sickly, like the color of moss creeping up the walls of an abandoned building. A pale green that reminded me of the touch of death. Within its coal blackened eyes, I could see death quite clearly. 

        “You can have it,” I said. My hands trembled, sweat dripping down my body. I had only made it a few yards into the woods. It was cold, but nothing like the chill of its skin on mine.  

        It leaned downwards, the shadow of the night accentuating its high, feminine cheeks and angled jaw. Each cheek had a dark red blush that glowed with promise. Long, thin fangs slid from the tip of its drooling lips. Its skin resembled wet paper, deceptively fragile and weak.  

        Closer, closer… it stilled and sniffed the air. Tiny puffs of white blew from its nostrils. Its posture stiffened. 

        “I can tell you’re obviously cursed,” it said, voice dipping into a low, beckoning tone, “But why is someone like you asking for death?” 

        The pain in my side bristled as I attempted to breathe. 

        “Plenty people beg you for a release of life,” I strained. It wasn’t a lie—it was a well known fact that people too tired to continue onward, but too squeamish or cowardly to do the job themselves, were often spotted walking into night walker’s territory, never to be seen again. A quick Google search pulled up articles promising a “quick, painless death” followed by a “We do not encourage such actions but only seek to inform the public about the rumors regarding the supernatural”. Sure thing. Next year, I wouldn’t be surprised if Vogue came out with a feature including pitchforks and garlic. And if they’re bold enough—a noose.  

      The vampire huffed, eyes locking on my throat but only for a moment.  

      “Yes, but not people like you,” it said.  

      The tone was flat, final. My fear was beginning to boil into frustration. I managed to take a breath and release it.  

       “Do I not look miserable enough?” I said.  

      I made tears come to the corners of my eyes, pulling my frown in a display of agony. 

       But I saw a shift in the vampire’s stare. Its breath so near my own, I was able to see the width of its pupils and how the black circle was faded at the edges by a deep, dark red. 

      The red widened. 

      “You look like me.” 

      The vampire’s cold aura was soon melted away entirely by the heat of my annoyance. 

       “The hell is that supposed to mean?” I spat, or at least as well as I could with a dry throat. 

       The vampire didn’t so much as blink as it stood up, and I was left to slump into shivering snow.  

      I watched as it walked a few steps forward before turning back to me. 

      “Have you ever had strawberry fool?” it asked. It was a casual statement, carried by the notion of nothing important. I couldn’t respond at first. My lips ceased to function, and my tongue was glued to the roof of my mouth.  

      “What?” 

      I felt then, an emotion I had never before touched. A feeling that required my absolute belief in its existence, otherwise it would slip away like a dream. I had a sensation as if the earth’s crust had flipped, and I along with it. The vampire’s soft smile in response confirmed my belief: something had changed. 

      “My mother used to make it every year for my brother and I’s birthday,” it said, “I can’t remember the last time I had it.” It trailed off for a moment before continuing, “But I plan to make you a ramekin.” 

       I didn’t respond. Its long, blonde hair spun in the winter’s wind, a black shawl swaying closely behind. 

       “Follow me.” 

       I had no intention not to obey, for reasons known and unknown. And so I followed— through the calf high snow and mile long forest of pine, until we reached the sight of a castle made of pitch-black ice. The stone was darker than night and shone like a fog had provided a chilly mist over it.  

      Surrounded by elegant arches and dark tile, a door large as a moose was carved out of chestnut. The vampire and I approached it. One small click and the door groaned open. 

      I gasped and my right side splintered in pain.  

      Despite the dark, mist-covered exterior, the inside of the castle was a home of golden light and berry tarts. The entrance had a center table with a vase full of pink and yellow carnations. There were bundles of flowers, herbs, twigs all hanging from the ceiling to dry. Beside them were a dozen or so candle jars that provided a soft, blinking glow to the room. The walls were covered in shelves of plants. Ones with beautiful flowers, some with purple leaves or red stems, others with twirling spindles or protruding roots.  

       It looked like the home of a distant aunt, not a blood-sucking murderer.  

      The air was unnaturally warm, likely due to some sort of spell, and the warmth quickly dried the frost on my clothes and skin. The door closed with a whoosh as I silently followed the vampire into a kitchen area, a hand on my bad side. I paused at the entryway as it began to shuffle through cabinets, pulling out various dishes and ingredients. Its black shawl swished as it moved.  

       “Why were you cursed?” it asked. I tensed, slowly sitting down at the kitchen bar. I was surprised to find that the seat was as cozy as the confusing atmosphere. 

       “Dim-witted pettiness,” I mumbled, a frown forming. The vampire whipped around fast enough that it made a whizz in the air. My head darted up in fear and I shivered at the sight of its glare. 

       “Don’t lie,” it growled. 

      The vampire’s eyes flashed with a color like blood. I felt as if the Grim Reaper loomed over me, the shadow of a scythe beside my figure. I faced the sight of a harrowing creature holding a spatula in one hand with the other clenched, and yet I felt the blood still in the chambers of my heart.  

       “I made the carnal sin of searching for eternal life. Once I was granted my wish, I soon discovered that it was not a wish, but a curse. An ugly one,” I said, fidgeting with my fingers. “My life is shrouded in loneliness and loss of all comforts in previous delights. My body refuses to age and yet my mind is nothing but a gray grim.” Hot tears steamed down my chilled cheeks, much to my surprise. The droplets were caught by my growing frown. I didn’t want to cry, but it appeared that I had no choice. I wiped the wetness away bitterly.  

       “You’re going to love the strawberry fool.” The vampire smiled. Before I could snarl in disbelief, it continued. 

       “I know your experience all too well,” it said, face growing somehow paler as it stared off in memory. “It mirrors my own story, in which after being given eternal life I found my will to continue living shrivel away into nothing. ‘A gray grim’ as you call it. I know the color.” Its twisting face and widened eyes in its final sentence made my ribs quiver. 

       “So why offer me dessert?” I asked, voice hardly more than a whisper. 

       “Because you deserve it. You deserve the chance at companionship and peace, even through the aches of eternity.”  

       The response came so quickly I wondered if it had been spoken before. Though, that was not the answer I was yearning for. This creature… such a monstrous face, a body capable of horrifying gore, and yet it chooses to live in a home of grand contradiction. 

       “Who bit you?” 

       Inside my question lingered the truth: 

       Did you ask for this? 

       The vampire seemed to understand and pause in thought. I watched its wrist maneuver the spoon. The red strawberry was vivid against the white cream.  

       “I don’t remember. Time has taken that memory away from me.” 

      I scoffed before grimacing at the pain it caused in my side.  

       “Did time take away ‘companions’ as well?” I asked, my temper getting the best of me, as it always did.  

      The vampire stilled for a moment. The hand on my side froze.  

       “Time, ignorance…dim-witted pettiness.” 

       I found myself chuckling (and therefore, wincing), and the sound echoed on the kitchen walls as if it belonged there. That’s when I saw the smirk. A subtle curve of thin, red-rose lip creating the slightest wrinkle in pale skin. An expression void of sinister intent but rather formed by humor and humor alone. The feeling I had felt before reemerged. Something had changed. And the something that remained was filling the air in between the creature and me.  

       “I didn’t kill you because I want to offer you another chance. Consider it a gift,” the vampire said.  

      I wanted to scoff. Why the hell would I want more time? Every waking moment was misery. And time haunted me. It never ceased, an endless ticking clock lodged in between the hemispheres of my brain.  

       “Life isn’t some gift. It’s my choice whether I want it to end or not,” I replied. My tone was bitter, though I hadn’t intended it to be so harsh. But the vampire didn’t seem offended. It poured the pink whipped mixture into a small ramekin.  

       “Is that why you need a middleman? Can’t do it yourself?” it asked, the smugness in its voice teasing my anger.  

      I thought for a moment, eyes lingering on the red flush of the remaining berries. The vampire chopped them in half with one swift movement.  

       “I simply figured why let my body rot when it can be of use to something else?” I finally replied.  

      The vampire paused its chopping and placed the knife down on the counter. I felt myself pulled into its expression, like a compass orienting itself.  

       “Is that what you wish your existence to be? Useful?” it asked. There was a sharpness in its stare. I shrugged.  

       “I don’t see any other good reason. And I don’t fucking care.” 

       “You’re eying those strawberries like you care,” it smiled, the friendly gesture more terrifying than anything else with spindly fangs. I snapped my gaze from the berries. 

       “I’m hungry.” 

       “So am I,” it replied all too quickly. I cocked my head to the side, revealing a tempting view of my neck. The second it looked at the flushed flesh, I replied.  

       “And yet I’m still here.” 

      A pause in breath. This was the death I had been waiting for, prolonged by petty chatter and the promise of one last treat. It would take less than a second for it to get to me, I thought. Inhuman speed and strength—why is it so hell bent on playing with its food?  

      I sighed, watching as it dropped a couple slices of strawberry on top of the pink dessert. My stomach growled against my will.  

     It slid the ramekin across the counter, stopped just in front of me.  

       “So what’s your choice? Care to enjoy the splendors of my proposal?”  

      I waited for a punchline or some sort of joke. It gave none.  

       “What, like your company?” I snapped.  

       The vampire widened its mouth into deadly amusement and the light of the room cowered in fear. I did as well. 

       “Don’t you want to be happy?” it asked. A simple question, sure, but not one with a simple answer. I gritted out some tension in between my teeth before replying.  

       “I made my mistake and sealed my fate. I did not sit out in the cold dark like bait on a hook because I wanted death. It’s what is deserved.” 

      The vampire’s grip on the ramekin tightened, paper white knuckles turning almost purple. I found myself lost in the rim of red in its eyes, somehow always expanding.  

       “Don’t give yourself happiness because you deserve it. Do it because you want it.”  

      It grabbed a spoon and plopped it into the pink whip. “And I don’t give a shit what you’ve done. I’m no saint.” 

      I don’t doubt that, I thought. My lips, however, remained sealed.  

      “Is it the reason you were cursed that ails you?” it asked. I glowered at the mention of the curse again, choosing to remain silent. The vampire wasn’t pleased.  

      “Show me.” Its voice was thick and smooth as dark chocolate, and then invisible fangs were digging into my skull, purging out my darkest days.  

      I thought of my daughter, her lungs choking on smoke and ash as her skin began to melt with flame. I could still hear her cry of agony. I could hear the crackling of the fire as it chewed my home into gray spit. And I could see the spirit of my wife and child fade away into the sky above me.  

      It was my fault.  I had snuck off into the night, careless in my expedition. I gained eternity, but at what cost? 

      Reality snapped back at me like a twig. I jerked, breath tight, and glared.  

      The vampire only bowed its head in respect. It had the audacity to read my mind. Prick. 

      “Don’t you ever do that again, you piece of” I snarled, but the creature ignored me completely. 

      “I killed my brother,” it interrupted. “The hunger grabbed me by the throat that cold, winter night and I allowed it to take control. When I awoke, all that was left of him were spools of red ribbon. The wails of my mother, begging for her son’s body to sew itself back together are still like an echo. She called me ‘Monster’ and cursed me until her voice failed her.”  

      It placed both hands on the counter and continued. 

      “We may both deserve to rot in eternal anguish,” it said. “But I’m tired of being exhausted. To hell with it. I choose to be selfish.” The vampire’s tone snapped like a jaw.  

      I stared at the various jars of spices and goods, mind wandering in thought. My heart burned like a hornet’s sting. I may have reminded the vampire of itself, but I saw someone else in its confession. Someone who had once taught me what the word life meant.  

       “Do you enjoy being miserable?” it taunted, voice lifting into a higher pitch as it whirled the spoonful of strawberry fool in my face.  

       I felt a chuckle split my placid expression. 

       “The one thing on this earth capable of killing me is also the only one capable of convincing me to stay,” I said, though without a hint of amusement. “I can only hope you don’t have a habit of eating your companions.” 

      It let out a bark of laughter that surprised me almost more than its confession.  

       “Only the intolerable ones,” it replied with bitter mirth. “One girl was sweet as cherry pie until she tried to steal a handful of jewelry. I think her name was Angel…”  

       “I have no use for jewelry,” I gulped. Despite the conversation, drool was beginning to form in my mouth. I could smell the sweetness wafting from the ramekin, but the vampire still held the dish captive in its hand.  

       “I’m sure you’ll make a better company,” it said with a slight wrinkle in its nose.  

       “Hand me some fool’s dessert and you may find out.” 

       The vampire slid the fancy dish in my direction. I took a small bite, feeling the cool texture run over my tongue. Once again, my fate was sealed by the supernatural: the strawberry’s fool was the best fucking dessert I’d ever had.