Callum Young was tired.
It was the kind of tired that you felt right down in your bones, that made it nearly impossible for you to keep your eyes open. Of course, traveling up the East Coast in a manner of days might have had something to do with it, In theory, New York City wasn't that far from Maryland, but when it was a journey being made on foot. . . Well, that was a different story all together. In all of the Downworlder circles, Callum had been told to go to New York, that it was "the land of opportunity" so to speak, and now that Callum was without a pack, it had seemed a good a place as any to try and start over.
He'd been in New York City for about a week, slowly trying to get his bearings in such a large sprawling cityscape. It was amazing how many Downworlders were here, walking among the Mundane who never even batted an eye. He'd heard of a place - Devilish Paradise - where all manner of mythical creatures were welcome. It was owned and operated by a warlock, a man named Magnus Bane, whom Callum had never heard of but apparently the man was well known in most Downworlder circles. He'd followed the instructions of a pretty faerie girl - her glamour had been a sweet faced teenaged girl with blonde hair and blue eyes, but Callum could see her true form: razor sharp teeth and scales over her body in twisting patterns. Following her careful directions had led him straight to Devilish Paradise, glamoured on the outside to look like a hole in the hall bookshop, but when Callum had stepped through the doorway, there was a surly looking man baring his way.
Callum apparently had passed the test for entry, muttering "the Moon" when the bouncer had held up a Tarot card facing the wrong way. His Sight had easily allowed him to see what was on the card's face side, and the man had stepped aside to let him pass. The fact that it was Valentine's Day had escaped Callum entirely, until he walked into the bar area. Heart shaped balloons littered the space and little flying cupids zoomed around, nearly knocking into Callum's shoulder as he made his way to the bar, all but collapsing into one of the far seats in the corner. There were a couple of merfolk here, and two warlocks, but Callum didn't bother trying to make conversation. Instead he hunched over himself at the bar, but pushed the hood of his black sweatshirt off of his head to shake out his hair.
The air was thick with smells, sweat and liquor and something else cloying that was giving Callum a headache. He froze, breath catching in the back of his throat when the smell of a vampire swirled into his nostrils. Reflexively, he bared his teeth but stayed rooted to his seat, remembering that if he lashed out now he would be kicked out, and honestly, it was fucking cold outside.
He stiffened even more when the vampire came closer, even having the balls to slide into the seat next to Callum and sniff him. The beta wolf snarled again, this time baring his teeth even further and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. "I'm not a mutt," he growled from between his teeth, albeit surprised that this bloodsucker could tell that he no longer ran with a pack.
Drinks were sat in front of both of them, but Callum refused to touch his, crinkling his nose up and leaning away as the vampire leaned closer. What was his problem?! "Listen, I don't mean to be rude--" Which was a lie. What Callum would have liked to have done was punch this nosey bloodsucker right in his pretty mouth. "--but it's really none of your fucking business why I'm here. You'll have better luck elsewhere for conversation. . . or whatever it is that you want."