Reflections
In my bedroom hangs an antique mirror. Long ago, I placed a thick curtain over it to hide my reflection; it reminds me of the monster I am.
Most of the men invited into my room do not notice the hidden object, focused solely on their carnal intent. That is, until I open a vein and lust is replaced with terror. For those who question the covered mirror, I explain it is cracked.
Many accept this and return their attention to my body. Only one has allowed his curiosity to override his desire.
‘Are you superstitious?’ he asked.
‘We make our own luck,’ I whispered in his ear, pressing into his warmth.
He nuzzled my neck and I thought I had him back, but he pulled away too soon.
‘I could have it fixed.’
Fighting to keep the irritation – and fear – from my voice, I unfastened his belt.
‘Later,’ I said. ‘First, I want you.’
He let me undress him but refused to lay down. Pulling me to my feet, he said, ‘Let’s watch our reflection.’
Were it possible, my ice-blood would have chilled.
‘No.’ My tone was harsh.
Uncertainty flashed in his eyes. I knew I would have to act soon. There was no time to secure him to the bedposts.
Pulling the razor from under the bed, I stood and swiped the blade across his throat. Arterial spray washed over me. I opened my mouth, gulping down the hot blood.
Pressing a futile hand to his neck, he staggered backward. My heart froze as he collided with the mirror. He fell to the ground, the curtain going with him.
It is well-known vampires do not cast reflections.
The man’s sobs muted as the drape covered him and I was left staring into my blood-soaked face.