It was raining again. The absence of sunlight meant that I could go outside without attracting too much attention, however, it had been a while since I'd hunted, my eyes blacker by the day, so surrounding myself with potential victims could prove disastrous. Still, it was better than sitting inside, reading Turn of the Screw again, so I put on my jacket and hat and made my way to downtown Philadelphia.

Twenty minutes later, although it could have been two if I had run, I was stood at the edge of the park, trying desperately to contain my growing thirst. The scents of many humans were blown towards me by the howling winds, muted a little by the torrential rain. This had been a bad idea, I began to think, until a wave of an unfamiliar emotion washed over me; slight impatience, and something more. I turned, trying to locate its source and the most beautiful of smells hit me. Not human, but close. I faintly recognized it, something from another lifetime; it was another vampire, who appeared to be in or near the shabby diner which had probably served as a speakeasy in the distant days of prohibition.

Again came the scent, drowning out the hundred others that had passed me that day, intoxicating and wonderful. I crossed the street to the narrow pavement almost completely submerged by water. The diner- 'Pete's Diner' according to the sign above its entrance- was half-empty, the few customers inside ordering cup after cup of coffee in order to wait out the storm outside.

There was one customer who I realized was being eyed warily by the staff; sat alone with a full cup of coffee and an untouched bagel, her beautiful black eyes expectant. It was her, the scent I had smelt and the emotion I had sensed. She was a vampire, there was no doubt about it; the pale skin, black eyes and unnerving beauty I had come to expect from 'our kind' were all present. Yet, this vampire was far more beautiful than any other I'd known, including Maria.

Her hair was short, and wildly curly, pulled off of her face by a bright blue ribbon that matched the flowing skirt which stopped just below her knees. She wore round glasses, probably to disguise the unusual colour of her eyes, but had no jacket with her despite the rain outside. This would explain the strange looks she was receiving, as she had most likely been sat in that seat, still as a statue, for days on end; I noticed that the bagel on the table in front of her had a small patch of mould creeping around it.

She slid off of the stool she had been perched upon and walked, no, danced towards me, smiling.

"You've kept me waiting a long time." Waiting for what? I was intrigued, but very cautious not to offend her.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," I replied, touching my hat, my Southern accent outstanding in the quiet diner.

She smiled again, and introduced herself: "I'm Alice, Alice Brandon, and you're Jasper Whitlock. Pleased to meet you."

I stood, stunned, as she slipped her hand into mine and led me out of 'Pete's'. I could have let go of her hand, destroyed her within seconds if I wanted, but her emotion was compelling, addictive, so I held on and followed her, well aware of the eyes boring into us as we left.