The bar was packed and noisy. Patrons filled every table and booth, and many were standing at the bar between the people seated on stools. Several waitresses were attending to all of the customers, but he had his eye on only one. She was wearing a black tank top and jeans; the space between the hem of her shirt and the two belts criss-crossing over her hips showed off the Aztec dragon tattooed on the left side of her abdomen. Her long, dark hair was up in a ponytail, bangs swept to the side, although constantly falling in her eyes. It was her right wrist he watched as she placed a beer on a table, or took the tip from someone sitting in a booth; a family crest was neatly inked into the skin there, and the family name was printed in solid Irish print below it. The pretty strawberry blonde waitress taking care of him that evening was tempting, but there was work to be done. The girl with the crest, that is who he was looking for that night.

xxx

Brogan Sullivan leaned as far over the table as possible, wiping it down with a wet rag. The previous residents of the table were well intoxicated by the time they left, leaving her with a sticky mess to clean up. She watched as her co-worker and friend Kerry served another frosted mug of beer to the creepy looking man in the leather jacket. His eyes were covered by dark sunglasses which he had yet to remove, even for a moment, since he stepped into the bar two hours earlier. Kerry seemed to be merely annoyed by him, but as Brogan watched him with her dark eyes, she became more and more suspicious.

“Shades over here is ready to tab out,” Kerry announced to Ethan, the main bartender. Brogan leaned into the counter and studied the man once more.

“Has he said anything to you?” she asked in her gentle Irish accent. She suddenly couldn’t take her eyes off the burly figure, and wondered if he was staring back at her. His eyes could be looking all around the bar but they would never know with those sunglasses in front of his eyes. For a moment, she wondered if that’s what they were there for, until Kerry brought her back to reality.

“He asked some questions about how long the bar had been around, what time we closed. General stuff like that. Seems to be a kind of stoic guy.” Kerry shrugged before taking the bill to her customer. He handed over a large bill and told her to keep the change. Brogan couldn’t help but watch him as he navigated through the maze of people filling the building. Something was increasingly familiar about the man, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“Brogan, are you working tonight or what?” Ethan teased, snapping her from her thoughts. He loaded the tray in front of her, cueing her to deliver them. A large group came in shortly after, leaving Brogan to forget about the man in the leather jacket.

xxx

Two nights later, the man re-entered her thoughts. He came in with what seemed to merely be an acquaintance, had two beers, and then left. This time Brogan wasn’t able to shake him from her thoughts. She went home and pulled out every family album she had in her possession; she found not one likeness to the man. After shutting the current album she held in her lap, she leaned forward, elbows on it’s cover, and ran her hands into her hair. This was becoming one strange obsession, and it was certainly not one with which she preferred to get herself consumed. Brogan put the albums away, changed into pajamas, and ran a brush through her long hair. She was just securing the locks in a braid when a light knock sounded at her door. She beckoned the visitor to come in, and smiled to see her aunt hovering in the door way.

“Aunt Rachel,” Brogan greeted. “I figured you’d already be sleeping.”

“Well I heard you shuffling around, and I usually don’t hear you at all when you come in. Everything all right, dear?” Rachel asked. Her niece was almost a mirror image of her; they had the same dark hair, and petite stature. Many times they had been mistaken for mother and daughter. It was their eyes though, that broke the similarities; Rachel’s were a bright green, and Brogan’s were dark.

Brogan hesitated before answering her aunt. She could tell her about the man in the leather jacket and see what kind of answers she got, or she could keep it to herself and not worry the older woman. In the end, she decided that she wouldn’t tell Rachel what was going on until it was necessary. “I’m fine. I’m sorry I was loud.”

Rachel gave her a kind smile, and showed more relief than Brogan would’ve expected. “Okay then. I’m back off to bed. Try to get some sleep and I’ll make a big breakfast in the morning.”

Brogan only nodded, but couldn’t help but dwell on her aunt’s overflow of relief that Brogan was okay. She shook her head, as if to snap herself out of a trance, telling herself this strange man was merely playing games with her mind, and she was reading too much in every little detail. She snuggled under her comforter, drifting off to a restless sleep.

Just as the sun rose in the sky, the smell of coffee and bacon wafted up to Brogan’s room. It was the smell of her home in Ireland in the morning that woke her though; white pudding was being cooked downstairs, she was sure of it. She threw the covers back and quickly fumbled down the stairs, still not quite awake. Her aunt was standing over a several pans; bacon, eggs, fried tomatoes and potatoes, were filling the pans. A quick glance to the plates on the counter showed that her nose was right; white pudding was cooling, waiting for the other foods to join.

“White pudding always brought you stampeding out of your bed,” Rachel smiled, without even turning around. “Have a seat. I’m just about done with the rest of it.”

A few minutes later, Brogan was seated with a full plate of food and a steaming cup of coffee. The two women ate in silence, as Brogan wasn’t thinking about much other than the beautiful Irish breakfast in front of her. Rachel watched the young woman eat; when the coat of arms printed on Brogan’s wrist caught her eye, she couldn’t stay quiet any longer.

“Your birthday is coming up soon,” Rachel started.

“Couple of weeks,” Brogan answered. “Twenty-two is nothing special.”

Rachel gave her a small smile. “Any plans?”

“I think Ethan and Kerry are closing the bar to anyone except friends and regulars. Don’t worry though, I’ll be careful.”

“I don’t doubt that, dear,” Rachel smiled, taking a sip of her coffee. “Tell me, Brogan, do you remember when we left Ireland?”

Brogan stopped with her fork halfway to her mouth. Slowly, she set the utensil back down on her plate and nodded. “I remember.”

“What do you remember?” Rachel probed. She hated stirring these memories up, but she wanted to know what details Brogan had stashed away all these years. A menacing buzzing sound came from her upstairs bedroom, and relief washed over Brogan.

“I’ll finish this in my room; that’s my phone ringing. It’s probably Kerry.” Brogan stole away to her bedroom, closing the door softly behind her. Rachel stood at the bottom of the stairs, tempted to interrupt her niece’s phone conversation to tell her what needed to be said, but instead she moved to the bay window at the front of the house.

“I know you’re out there,” Rachel whispered. “Keep her safe.”

A tall young man appeared briefly on the front lawn, nodded to Rachel, and then disappeared just as quickly as he had shown himself.

xxx

“One more week until the big day,” Ethan smiled to Brogan as they set up to open the bar. She would be twenty-two in just seven days, but still didn’t feel like the birthday was anything special.

“You guys need to not go all out,” Brogan warned. “Twenty-two is not a big deal. It’s just another birthday.”

“Oh, come on,” Kerry replied. “You passed out way too early last year; we’re just making sure you celebrate correctly this year.”

Brogan chuckled. “Yeah, all right. I guess, if you have to.”

“That’s a good girl,” Ethan smiled, giving her a friendly kiss on the forehead. She remembered briefly when she came from Ireland all those years ago, and Ethan was the only one who she felt she could relate to, mostly because his accent almost matched hers.

Kerry bumped her out of her thoughts. “What is with you lately? You’re always zoning out.”

Brogan sighed, and ran her hands through her hair. “I’m sorry, Kerry. My aunt tried to get me to talk about leaving Ireland the other day, and it seems it’s always on my mind now.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Kerry offered.

Brogan considered the offer for a moment, but then shook her head. “No. No, I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s start letting these people in, yeah?”

Kerry nodded in agreement, but couldn’t stop worrying about her friend. She feared there was something bigger going on, but knew she couldn’t press the issue with Brogan.

xxx

Brogan came home from an intense shopping trip with Kerry, making sure she had the perfect outfit for her birthday celebration. She dropped her bags in her room and slipped out of her shoes before searching for her aunt. Rachel was finally found sitting at the kitchen table, pages of a letter strewn in front of her, her cheeks tear stained. Brogan couldn’t know how long she had been sitting there, but it had to be awhile because her aunt had rested her head on her arms and apparently drifted off to sleep. Suddenly feeling tense, she slipped the pages of the letter off the table, and read them to herself. It was written in Gaelic, a language she hadn’t come close to forgetting.

Rachel -

It is hard for me, dear sister, to write this letter. By the time you open it, my beloved wife and I will be long gone, destroyed by the forces that haunt our family. My only regret in life is that I brought Catherine into the haunting with me. My poor daughter, too, will have to fight off this evil, as best she can. Who would have thought that your wild brother would be the one to give life to the dark-haired, dark-eyed one? They will come for her because she is the one told of for so many years who will in turn destroy this evil that comes after our family. I beg you not to let them get to her first; take her away from our country, and hide her somewhere safe until she is old enough to understand …

Brogan read just a bit more of the letter, and her own tears washed over her cheeks. Her father’s letter held so much concern for her well-being, so much love for Rachel and Brogan both. She suddenly missed him terribly, as if his death was just the day before. She slumped into the closest chair, letting the pages of the letter flutter to the floor. The chair scraped across the floor, waking Rachel.

“Brogan, what is it?” Rachel asked before noticing the paper scattered across the floor. She picked up the pieces and then looked at her niece, shocked. “You read this letter?”

Brogan nodded. “I remember when we left Ireland, Aunt Rachel. I came home from school, and I couldn’t find my parents anywhere. My mother wasn’t in the kitchen cooking, my father wasn’t in his office doing paperwork. Finally, I went into their bedroom, and there they were. They were slumped together on the floor, blood pooled beneath them. Then I remember you coming to get me, and we came here. Everything else is kind of a blur.”

“Do you want the whole story?”

“I want to know who is coming after me.”

Rachel pressed her lips together. “I’ll tell you, but it’s going to sound wildly outlandish.”

Brogan shook her head. “My father’s letter makes it sound like more than a killer is coming for me. I’ll believe anything at this point.”

“You know that the Sullivans are one of the largest clans in Ireland. There are so many families. At the start of our particular line, though, Thomas Sullivan was just as dark-haired and dark-eyed as you. Everyone thought he was crazy, but he swore that his wife and child were killed by vampires.” Rachel paused here to gauge Brogan’s reaction, but got none, so she continued. “He vowed that he would find them and avenge the death of his wife and their daughter. The … legend goes that he did stumble upon the vampires’ dwelling place, but they sensed him coming and killed him before he could make one strike. With his last breath, he told the vampire who killed him that one of his descendants would be a dark-haired, dark-eyed Sullivan, a daughter to fill the place of the one he lost, and she would find a way to kill the head of that vampire line.”

Brogan stood dumbfounded. Was she really supposed to believe that her fate was to find and kill the head of a vampire bloodline because of an old family myth? Thomas Sullivan was the start of their line, so how many hundreds of years had the story been twisted and changed and misinterpreted. “Why now? Why bring this up now?”

Rachel swallowed before answering. “At twenty-one, you were considered fully aged, ready to fight them. Nothing has happened in the last year; then the other night, you came home, and you were startled.”

Surprising even herself, she lost all doubt just in that statement. She closed her eyes. “The man in the leather jacket. He comes into the bar and wears these dark sunglasses. There’s no regular signs, but he creeps me out.”

“Read the rest of the letter,” Rachel urged. “You’ll understand why I brought you here. Your father wanted you in a place where the evil would have to filter through many others to find you.”

“He gave me a head start on them,” Brogan breathed.

“It was the last bit of life he could offer you, Brogan.”

xxx

As she entered the bar the next night, Brogan resolved not to say anything to Kerry and Ethan. Since her conversation with her aunt the night before, she had become terribly alert. She constantly watched over her shoulder, but was careful not to get jumpy or let on what she knew. With every shot she took, and every beer she downed, she was careful to watch out for anyone suspicious. By twelve-thirty, she was good and intoxicated. On her way back from the bathroom, she noticed a shady character in a back booth. She held her breath for only a moment, then casually made her way to Kerry and Ethan.

“How did he get in here?” Brogan asked the both of them.

“Who?” Ethan asked.

“I know who she’s talking about,” Kerry answered. “The guy at table twenty-one, the shady one who has been in and out of here the last couple of weeks.”

“I’ll get Russ to kick him out,” Ethan told the girls, and made a beeline for the bouncer. Russ didn’t have to do much; the guy left without a fight. Just as he got to the door, he pointed a finger at Brogan, gave her an evil smile, and then left.

“Stalked much?” Kerry chuckled at Brogan. Her friend though hadn’t taken her eyes off of the doorway, even after the man disappeared through it. Kerry and Ethan went back to their conversation, and seemingly didn’t notice Brogan make way for the door.

Her feet moved of their own accord, and she felt like someone was pulling her along by the hand, like a child who doesn’t want to leave the toy store. Her eyes looked straight ahead, as though she was in a deep trance. The sounds of the bar and her party melted from around her, and her vision was tunneled out. The only thing she could concentrate on was getting outside. When she finally set foot on the pavement, her concentration broke slightly, and she had to re-orient herself to where she was standing. Brogan shook her head and felt the full effects of the alcohol she’d taken in that night. Running for the alleyway, she rid her system of everything she’d had to drink and some of what she’d had to eat earlier. She leaned with one hand on the brick wall, and wiped her mouth with the other.

“Too much to drink is not good,” a monotone voice said behind her. The accent was again Irish, and it seemed so familiar, it’s owner was right on the edge of her mind. She whirled around to see the man in the leather jacket quickly walking towards her. She backed away, but instead of moving back out to the main street, she only moved further back into the alley.

“Who are you? What do you want with me?” Brogan pleaded, although she knew the answer full well. In less than a second, the man in the leather jacket had brought himself to stand in front of her, and backhanded her. It all happened so fast, Brogan had to wonder if maybe she had actually blacked out for a few moments. He wrapped a hand around her throat and flung her against the brick wall. She was gasping for air, her cheek stung, and her head pounded.

The man twirled a strand of Brogan’s hair around his fingers. “Such pretty dark hair. And those eyes, girl, those eyes are the darkest I’ve ever seen on an Irish girl. Oh, and what is this pretty little tattoo?” He wrapped his free hand around Brogan’s arm and pinned it to the wall where he could plainly see the coat of arms on her wrist. “I think you’re just the girl I’m looking to help.”

“Help?” Brogan managed to squeak out.

“Help into death.” The man whispered the last word close to her ear, causing Brogan to wince. She closed her eyes and a vision of her dead parents flashed into her head. She then thought about the letter her father wrote to her aunt, and knew she had to fight. She had to fight for the life her father had tried so hard to protect, even after he was gone.

A/N: I’m kind of new to this genre, so if it seems a little farfetched, just go with it. That’s why it’s fiction, right?

Also, I’m not from Ireland, but I’ve been doing a lot of research on my family’s Irish roots, which was sort of the inspiration for this story. If things seem off, it's because I'm not an expert, just doing what I can with the info I have. There'll be actual Gaelic later on in the story, and the same goes for that.

Enjoy.