Her Eyes of Emerald and Fire

“Hey Mal?” Asher walks into their shared office in their house, having just gone to get some coffee.

“Yes, Ash?” His twin brother looks up from the paperwork that’s strewn across the desk in front of him, he looks as tired as Asher feels, his short black hair is dishevelled as he’d been running his hands through it over and over looking for some trace of what’s actually going on with their shipments. Malachi has a head for people, not numbers. That’s Asher’s thing, but Mal had offered to help, and Asher had accepted his help.

Someone’s messing with their shipments, they had proof of that on video, but they had yet to find anything on paper, their import export business is running perfectly on paper. But someone, somehow, is adding and removing multiple crates from their warehouse on the docks. And yet somehow all the numbers are accurate on their end and the supplier’s end. They’re both beyond pissed that it’s happening.

They haven’t even been able to find one of these mystery crates before it’s removed to see what’s even being moved. Mal looks exhausted, and Ash runs a hand through his identical but slightly less dishevelled hair, then sighs,

“Let’s just go for a drive to clear our heads, maybe we’ll find a pub or something. We’re not getting any closer to this without a fresh idea or something else turning up.” Mal nods and stands up, stretching his long limbs and back before straightening. Ash raises an eyebrow and dangles the keys in front of Mal,

“You can drive, unless you want me to?” He comes and snatches the keys from Ash,

“Thanks, I’ll drive.” Mal gives his twin a wink, “You can drive us home after I’m wasted.” Ash laughs,

“We can’t get wasted; you know that. We’re fucking Vampires, we quite literally can’t get drunk.” Mal shrugs, walking backwards out of the office,

“Yes, but I can try…” Ash sighs, and follows Mal down to the garage. They nod in greeting to several people they pass, but no one stops them. The Vampire princes and heads of their own house are going out, no one is going to stop them from leaving if they want to. Not anyone with any sense, anyway.

Ash has on dark grey jeans, a dark blue t-shirt and a black leather biker style jacket on, with some black boots. Mal has on dark blue jeans, a dark grey t-shirt and a matching jacket and boots. They don’t plan to coordinate their outfits, but they both often end up wearing something similar. Once inside the garage, Ash and Mal wander over to the convertible Bentley Continental GTC Speed, in a dark red satin finish, that is their car.

Ash takes a moment to inspect his reflection in the mirror in the sun visor, he bends his six-one frame to look at his short, slightly wavy black hair, which he sweeps back into place while he takes in his long face, with thin lips that are slightly bottom heavy, his hooded dark-hazel eyes and long nose. He runs a hand over his stubbled chin wondering if he should shave soon or leave it be.

He glanced over at his brother as he pulled two pairs of sunglasses from the glove box, passing the other pair to Mal who turned the key in the ignition after accepting them. He looks almost exactly the same, and he marvels at just how similar they are. Even their family sometimes struggle, but they just smile and correct them. They are each wearing a ring, a magical Totem, which protects them from the sun, but their eyes are still very sensitive if the sun’s out. Hence the sunglasses.

“You good?” Ash asks and Mal merely nods before pulling the car out of its space in the garage among the other vehicles the house owned, and out onto the driveway. He stops at the end of the driveway, and hums,

“Left, or right?” he turns to look at Ash. Ash looks at both options, then shrugs,

“Well, we more often go left to the coast for our warehouse, why not right this time?” Mal nods,

“Right it is, England’s countryside awaits.” Ash connects his phone to the car stereo and puts on some music to drive to, nothing particular just better than the silence that had settled over the car once Mal had started driving. He’s taking random turns and leaving the known area around their house behind them, looking for somewhere new.

They drive for a good three-quarters of an hour before Mal spots a small pub that looks promising, there are a few people outside smoking, and the carpark isn’t overfull. The pub itself is a large old brick building, with large windows at the front, with a large green wooden sign out the front that has large capital letters painted in gold stating the name; ‘MOLLY’S’. Unusual for rural England, but that doesn’t worry him.

As Mal pulls in there’s a loud crash from the front of the pub, Ash jumps from the car and dashes at vampiric speed to the front of the pub to see what’s happening and if he can help. Mal isn’t far behind him. They arrived to see a tall man, maybe heading towards seven foot tall, sprawled on his ass, which makes it hard to tell for certain. But what Ash is certain of, is that he’s pissed. He turns his head to Mal and mutters,

“He can’t be all human…” But the giant of a man is crawling away from a redheaded woman who looks to be maybe five-six, she’s all wide and delicious looking curves, she looks phenomenal. Her chest is heaving, seemingly with the effort of having hauled this man from the pub. She’s wearing bright blue overalls that seem to have oil or soot or something dark smeared on them, particularly near her hips and arse. Ash hums, and what a fine arse she has. She snarls at the man on the ground,

“Joey, you need to go home and reevaluate your life. Carol doesn’t want you near her any more. And I am more than happy to make perfectly sure that you never see her again do you understand me?” He growls, and she takes one step closer, he cowers and shuffles further back, “Do you understand me, Joey?” she repeats, slower and more menacingly.

He scowls but nods and she steps back putting her hands on her very ample hips. She waves at him as if encouraging him to go now. She waits until he has started to walk off before rolling her shoulders. Her shoulder-length ginger hair is all tight curls and tied back into a messy bun, showing off her undercut. She has her back to them currently, but as she turns, he catches a glimpse of wide bow-shaped lips, a small straight nose, and round mirrored glasses. She shakes her head,

“Fucking men.” She mutters as she disappears from view, strolling back inside without noticing them.