The place buzzes like it had two nights before. Libations, celebrations, and gyrations—it echoes, full of the sounds that appease the flesh.
The mass of people bounce as if they are all one body, flinging their hands in the air, surrendering to whatever temptation taunts them the loudest.
I don’t deny any of them their taste of the wild—surely I’ve had my fill here in days past. Although the rhythm is the same now as it was then, I’ve lost my taste for all of this. I long for a sweet treasure left in the woods—left with a she-vamp to look over her. But, if I’m to find a way to get those that hunt her to leave her be, this place is the only chance I have. Slim as it may be.
No longer ‘80s Night, but The Saturday Night Goth/Industrial Ball. Type O Negative’s “Blood & Fire” grooves through the speakers, blanketing the crowd with a dark, sexy vibe. Still an energetic and enthusiastic group of people, but the colors have changed from bright blues and pinks to edges of crimson mated to clothing ranging from black to blacker. Tank tops traded for corsets—short skirts and leg-warmers swapped out for leather and boots. Bright blue eyeliner has turned deep maroon. Red lips painted over like night. Dark and lacy. The more the outfit looks like it could line a coffin, the better.
Truth be told, I loved this night as much as the ‘80s soiree that always came two nights before. They were two different berries from the same wilderness. Both nights for us weirdos, just a separate event for each kind. Somehow I prowled them both. Two tastes to satisfy the same hunger.
Weave between people—edging my way to the dance floor. With every pulse of the bass from the speakers, I can see the blood flashing and shooting through the bodies around me. The bass makes my thoughts waver and flicker to black, on the verge of passing out, and the blood it reveals makes my fangs feel all the longer in my mouth—aching all the more to feed and stop this marathon torture I’ve been inflicting on my body.
Couldn’t feed. Was no time to leave Ruby and find someone to feed on. If I had left, they could’ve found her, helpless while I would’ve been gone. Not safe.
Had I gone to feed when Edgar attacked, she’d be gone now too—or at least in the hands of Roderick. Can’t let that happen.
Silly as it seems, don’t know if I could’ve fed anyway—even if a small town were only yards away from us in the woods. Only her neck seems right to feed from, but her eyes seem wrong to prey upon. Don’t want to dry up, don’t want to press my lips to another’s neck, and can’t look into her eyes and dive into her flesh.
This problem is becoming more important with every second. With every swaying of my mind from my purpose—the one I’m searching for—the reason I’m here, and with every fading of my vision from the drinking and dancing that surrounds me to nothing but black, I know I’ll have to compromise something or die. But for the moment, as Ruby waits under the trees for me, it’ll have to wait. Flesh’ll have to find a way to rise and reach my spirit.
Something grabs my wrist.
Tugging at my arm is a tiny redhead dressed in a deep-red, skintight shirt, black leather skirt, and spiked, black heels. A smile and glossy eyes project an energy much larger than her little body.
Could feast on her neck, regain my strength, stop this wretched aching inside. A week ago, she’d already be wrapped in my arms. Now that I’ve met Ruby, this redhead may as well be as hard as stone, as dry as marble, and as hollow as a cave.
Muster a faint smile and keep walking.
Bass pounds. Vision’s gone. Torso sways.
Feel small hand on my back.
Step forward—vision still not back.
Heavy hand on my shoulder.
Squint eyes hard. Blurry, but can see outlines. Hazy black and white.
Turn around slowly—heavy hand guiding me.
“Well, Simon, seems we keep running into each other.”
The familiar voice stings. The face is still bleary, but the memory is sharp. Colors return, although faded.
“Was looking for you, Roderick,” I say to the blur.
“Were you now?”
Something hazy and red moves to the side of us.
I continue, “Want to put an end to this. Seems we both have things the other wants. Silly to fight.”
“Indeed. So silly to fight when we can take whatever we want.”
His blurry face turns toward the red movement. Squint my eyes again—things become a little clearer. Repeat. Can see again.
Roderick’s forearm slowly pushes against the little redhead’s upper chest as he says, “He’s busy, fire crotch. Find another guy to grind on.”
A thin, well-manicured middle finger extends in his direction as she kisses it and flings it at him.
“No need to be rude, Roderick.”
“She’s not that hot, Simon. And speaking of which, where is the little sweet thing that’s caused all this trouble between us old friends.”
I look to the redhead to apologize on his behalf, but she’s already turned around and has her arms wrapped around another guy with long hair.
“See, she’s fine,” he says putting his hand back at my shoulder, “You worry too much for these temporary beings—they’re pretty resilient for the brief moment that they’re here.”
“Guess you’d know about that better than me.”
“To my office then?”
“Yeah.”
Roderick steps onto the far end of the stage and waves his hand up at Mark in the DJ booth at the end of the balcony. Mark nods his head and flips a switch. Roderick pushes open an emergency exit door beside the stage, and no alarm sounds.
I look to Mark before I follow Roderick, and he raises his opened hands to me. Apparently Roderick hasn’t held a grudge for the pyrotechnics Mark unleashed the other night. Guess Mark’s a useful friend to have in a place so prime for hunting.
At least Mark’s not in danger. At least not for the moment. Roderick has bigger problems to decapitate. I step through the exit, feeling like I’m sticking my head into a guillotine.
Through the emergency exit is a narrow brick alleyway that separates this club from the bar next door. It’s closed in at the front, creating the illusion that the buildings are connected. It’s open out the back, leading to a service driveway and a loading zone, of which only a small portion can be seen from where I stand now.
In that opening I see Carvelli and Quint, standing and watching us. Carvelli grinds his fist in his hand, fangs exposed, and vengeance screaming across his snarling face. Can’t blame him—he’s taken a hell of a beating from me the past few days. The stool was a cheap shot too, but the only way I could get Ruby away from them.
Roderick talks, facing them, holding up a hand to keep me behind him, “Calm down, Carvelli. Simon and I have some things to discuss.”
Carvelli growls, taking a step into the alleyway toward us.
“Restrain yourself,” utters Roderick struggling to keep himself from growling, rasp taking over his tone at the end of self, “Or I’ll have to restrain you.”
Carvelli closes his enraged mouth.
“Now wait in the loading zone, but stay near. I’ll call if I need you.”
Carvelli punches the bricks with a deep thud, brick dust floating to the ground. He turns and walks to the loading zone. Blood drips from his knuckles.
My eyes focus on the blood. Sight grows unfocused again.
When I look to Roderick, even through blurry eyes, I see he’s been watching me.
“So hungry that you focus on such unappealing blood as his? A bit dry, Simon?”
Shaking my head to balance my blurry sight, “No, I’m fine.”
“So, the suburban queen that you’ve found already has you starving yourself for her? We’re never anything but beasts to them once they get to know us—something to enslave and subordinate. Whipped in two nights? Must be a vamp record. Maybe even a human record too.”
I could punch his smug, laughing face until my knuckles become worn down to nothing, but Ruby’s more important. Besides, don’t know how many of my punches would connect in the condition I’m in.
“Last two times I saw Carvelli and Quint, they’ve been trying to kill me—why shouldn’t I keep an eye on them?” Lying, I continue, “I wasn’t watching his blood—just watching an enemy. But, I think you may be the one who’s a bit dry, Roderick—so obsessed with one little party girl.”
I become focused over Roderick’s shoulder at what looks to be a broken, female fingernail wedged in the gap between two bricks. Definitely an office he’s used before.
“Well, that’s really not important now, is it, Simon? You seem to be weak and fading, so we had better get to it, shall we?”
“The girl—leave her alone.”
“She has something I need. Besides—what do you care for the blue-haired harlot?”
“Not her. Her friend.”
“Doesn’t she have a name, Simon? Are you afraid to mention it in front of me?”
“I know you know her name—know you know where she lives—know you already know too much about her.”
“Well, then, what do you think we should do about it? What can you offer me to forget?”
“You can go after her friend for all I care—but just leave Ruby out of it.”
“There lies the problem, simple Simon. Ambrosia has disappeared. Last I saw her she slipped away with your dear Ruby. Was beginning to think she was dead—‘bout to have Carvelli and Quint check the morgues for her body, but not now that you’ve just assured me she’s still alive—waiting to be found.”
“Damn it,” I grumble, squinting my eyes again, trying to keep them from losing focus.
“Thank you for that, by the way. I’m sure Carvelli and Quint will appreciate it too.”
Shake my head roughly—trying to keep from blacking out. Ministry’s “Just One Fix” can be heard through the wall pumping from the speakers.
“You’re only proving my points, dear boy. You’re dry and weak and fading—can barely keep yourself from passing out. Getting weaker and weaker. Why don’t we strike a bargain before something…un—fortunate happens to you?”
“Why do I suddenly feel like Faust?”
“You praise me.”
“Wasn’t meant as a compliment. Just that a deal with you can’t end well.”
Vision’s not what it should be. Just one bite in the bar could’ve fixed all this. The red one would’ve worked fine—she wouldn’t even remember it tomorrow. Just felt wrong. Now feel gone. Slipping…slipping into black…
Roderick’s face grows angry.
“I need to know where Ambrosia’s hiding. Now.”
“Well, that’s what you need, Roderick. What about what I need?”
“I could care less about that bit of fluff that you’re so smitten with. Although she should pay for the way she spoke to me at the sch—”
I shove him open-palmed into his chest, breaking his speech, “Don’t even think about it. Ever.”
Roderick’s fangs flash in the dim light that the alley affords, “You’re tipping your hand, Simon. I know what you’re waiting for, and I hold all the cards to give it to you.”
“If it’s that easy, then why haven’t you already found Ambrosia and ended this?”
“It’s not over. I’ll find her.”
“Then do it without Ruby—do it without me, and you won’t have me in your way anymore.”
“Asking me to find a treasure without the map—can’t do it.”
“Trying to tell me that you’re too powerless to find one girl who’s fled your city—trying to tell me you know no one who can find her? Certainly you’ve grown weak. With all your power, one blue-haired girl is out of your reach?”
“Carvelli and Quint,” he calls, and two shadows loom at the end of the alleyway.
Glance down at the door—no handle on this side. Wall behind me. Rooftop too high to leap to. Three angry vampires between me and the only way out. Great. Simply spectacular.
I fling my hands in front of me, fingernails sticking out, fangs showing.
Roderick holds up his hand at them, “Just wait there, boys. May not need you, but be ready.”
Speaking to me again, he continues, “I know you, Simon, and you can tell me where the blue-haired mystery is hiding.”
“I don’t know where she is, Roderick. I was still here waiting for you to come out the fire while they were running away. Remember?”
“Look me in the eyes,” he hisses.
I stare at him, trying to hold my vision steady. It bounces between focus and blur—God, I hope he doesn’t see it. His hand grabs my chin and holds my eyes aimed slightly down into his.
His hand smells of blood and alcohol.
“Now,” he says, “Tell me.”
Fierce are his eyes as they study me.
He continues, “Tell me you don’t know where she is, and for the sake of your beloved mistress, be sure you speak the truth. The time for games is through.”
“I don’t know where she is. Just that she’s gone away. I’m the one who told her to leave town and not come back.”
His face looks like an attacking wolf as my last words settle in. The truth of it stings in him. My vision goes blurry. He knows she’d be easy to find if not for me. Knows he’d have what he’s risked so much to find if not for my words. Knows he’d have what he wants so dearly if not for my defiance. He’s now just a smear to my eyes, but I can hear the fury swirling in him as his breathing becomes erratic.
“Why, Simon?”
Can’t answer, his voice echoes in my head, thoughts turning black.
He slaps my face.
“Wake, Simon—no time for sweet dreams—this nightmare’s not over yet.”
Move my mouth, no sound comes out. Slaps me again.
“Come back, Simon. Come back, or I’ll find Ruby. Maybe she’ll tell me what she wouldn’t tell you.”
My hand flings up and finds his throat, squeezing with all the strength I have. My eyes only give me a blurry glimpse of what’s going on.
Hands grab me and slam me into the bricks. Sight bounces with the collision. Wind knocked out of me. Hand at my throat pressing my head against the wall.
Carvelli and Quint both have hands pinning me to the wall. Hand at my throat is Roderick’s. Two bits of wood dig into my back, under my shirt in my pants. God, don’t let them find them. Not now.
“Back now, Simon?” asks Roderick.
Nod my head as much as I can with his hand squeezing my throat. He releases my neck.
“Carvelli and Quint, wait outside the alley again.”
“But, Roderick, he—”
Roderick slaps him across his face, and says, “Don’t question me, Quint. Do what I say or take his place when I’m done with him.”
They obey, leaving just the one monster within my arm’s reach.
“Simon, Simon, Simon. I asked you a simple question, and you nearly went to pieces. What am I to think about you? I think you’re done. Nothing left to offer me. That’s a dangerous place to be, young boy.”
“For the girl. It was for Ruby, not Ambrosia. Helped her escape because of Ruby.”
“All this—for her?”
“Could ask you the same thing, Roderick? All this for Ambrosia?”
“Don’t you worry about Miss Ambrosia. I don’t plan on hurting her at all. Just need something she has. The two of you have made this a much bigger deal than it is.”
“If you just need something she has—why not go to her apartment and take it?”
“It’s a dorm room, and if it were still there, do you think I’d be wasting my time talking to you and sending half the vampires in New Orleans out looking for you and Ruby?”
“She took it with her?”
“Of course.”
“Stupid girl.”
Smiles, “Now, you’re starting to get it, my boy. Help me find Ambrosia, and I could care less about you and your little girlfriend. I have better things to do than chase after you anyway.”
“Why don’t you let me get what you need from Ambrosia, then? No need for you to have her if you just want something she has.”
Growing impatience builds in his tone, “Doesn’t know she even has it. I’ll have to take it from her—she won’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“What if I take it from her?”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Right now, I’d do a lot to end this.”
Roderick punches the bricks to the side of my left ear. The collision makes my sight shake again.
He grumbles in my ear, “Less you know about this, the better—you remember that. Now tell me where she is.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not, Simon? Don’t you know what I’ll do when I find her—especially now, after your defiance? I’ll bring a new meaning to the word torture, and you’ll never be free of me after this. Ever. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“You’d endure all that for her?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve heard the stories about my anger—things I’ve done to those who disobey me?”
I nod.
“The thing about those tales is that no one who was there has ever lived. The stories were told by those who only heard the screams from a distance—heard the wretched cries from those who knew first-hand what I can do. Nothing you’ve heard equals what I can bring. And you still defy me?”
“Yes.”
“For a girl?”
“What else?”
“They are vile, miserable meatbags, who in a single turn of our lives crumble to dust. What in any of them can make you be so foolish?”
“You live in your own dark world; you don’t see them in the day. You don’t know what they do—what they’re capable of. You judge them all based on the actions of the wildest of the bunch that you find down here—and you only see the wildest at their worst—their craziest. That’s why people come down here—for the raunchiest time of their lives. You judge people you don’t even know.”
His voice intensifies, growing like an approaching storm, “You don’t think I know what goes on inside of a human? What about the 17 years I spent chained to a brick wall in Spain? Huh? What about that little bit, Simon?”
Pause. No answer.
His voice like stones dragged across rocks continues, “My only relief from the pressing of the brick’s grooves into my back was to be taken away when one of the monks thought of a new torture for me to endure. There was no getting out of one’s chains to relieve oneself; we lived in our own filth. I killed over three dozen guards before I lost count—they didn’t care—always had another expendable soul to handle us.
“Some say only the rich were burned—the landowners. I was no rich man, but I was burned. And burned. And burned again.
“I smelled nothing but rancid surroundings and rotting flesh for 68 seasons. Hours seemed like days—days like years—years like millennia. Had no idea how long I spent in that underground terror chamber until I came out. The year 1800 passed with no notice to me in their hellish stone labyrinth.
“When the smell became too much for their own nostrils—even beneath the hoods covering their faces, they would let fire run wild through our dungeons, letting the flames decide who would be consumed and who would be spared. The fire had a taste for me as if my flesh tickled its burning tongues as they singed me. The smell of my own charred flesh was far worse than the others. It was when they marveled at how my flesh healed that they took particular interest in me.
“They found countless tortures that killed all others but would only keep me in a state of constant hell. Dislocated shoulders—shredded muscles in the rack, hanging from the ceiling by leather straps, the water torture, and little terrors made just for me. And of course the fire. Always the fire…”
His eyes flicker as he says fire, pausing before continuing, “I screamed many things into the darkness of those chambers. I could not renounce their God, but I did renounce their church. Again and again. It was my only pleasure. Screaming it at them with all my strength.
“Only a single friend and myself left at the end. He thought me to be dead when the French Army took possession of Toledo. He himself was pinned with a lowering pendulum descending upon him, rats threatening to eat his writhing body, followed by steaming walls slowly pushing him to the edge of an unholy pit. It was there that he was about to perish when the French army freed him.
“I slew my distracted guard who was trembling from the sounds of the invading army. Slipped out in the midst of the chaos. Grateful for their assistance, but I feared my treatment from the imposing army would be just as fierce if they learned what I was.”
I shudder, trying to shake the nastiness of the tale off my skin. KMFDM’s “Juke Joint Jezebel” vibrates its way through the door into the alley.
“So, young one, I know all too well the imaginings of humans and where their inquisitions will take them. How much do you think you know in your short life with them? How much have you been through to be right where I’m wrong?”
“Can’t condemn them all by what a few did to you—as terrible as it was. Can’t blame the innocent for the guilty. Just like you can’t blame me for your own actions.”
“Just you live with them long enough, young one. They’ll change your mind. Mark my words; humanity makes its own enemies—they don’t need my help.”
“Where do we go from here?”
“Well, I have two options.”
“They are?”
“One: I call Carvelli and Quint, and we tear you apart until you squeal or until you die.”
“And two?”
“I let you think about all this.”
“What?”
“I let you go—let you take in all we discussed. Think about me finding you and your girl. It’s only a matter of time—I will find you—I will find Ruby; you know it. And there will be no talking then.”
“Let me go to think about what? What do you think is gonna change?”
“Think about giving me the information I need. Think about living happily ever after with your green-eyed Ruby. Think about all of us living to see a better day, or…huh…I can show you one hell of a dark evening tonight.”
“I can’t promise you anything.”
Puts his nose an inch from mine. Less than an inch. Less than a centimeter.
His wicked smile takes me by surprise.
“That’s why I’m giving you a chance. It’s your very weakness that is saving your life right now. Your worthless earnestness is why I trust you will think it over. You will come to the conclusion that saving your love’s life—an innocent life at that—is worth turning over one far less innocent, one who won’t even be harmed—just need to take something from her—something she doesn’t even know she has or will ever miss. To me words are but the bait in the trap. The distraction that snares my prey. To you words are some kind of soul contract—a holy promise, to be treated as serious as death itself. Ridiculous. But it’s oh so useful to me now. Not promising me anything is promising me that you will be sincere—your word when it comes will be true. Make no doubt—it will be your undoing someday. But for tonight, it saves you.”
“Does it save me? Or…”
“Or what?”
“Does it save your miserable, cowardly flesh from me?”
“Carvelli and Quint,” he says as he raises his hand in the air.
The two shadows at the end of the alleyway rush toward me. I grip the two small stakes behind my back—one in each hand, pulling them out of my pants. I see the loading zone behind Carvelli and Quint—the only way out—as a heaven that I hope I can reach. Hope for Ruby’s sake that I make it. Know that I may never leave this alley. My fangs scream into the night. Rage is my only hope. That and the sharpened bits of wood in my hands.