"Come on, where are you?" Hathor whispered, terribly out of breath. She was finally forced to slow to a walk. Pressing at the stitch in her side, she looked around, knowing the Vampire Club to be close. She hadn’t wanted to go there, knowing what had happened last time, but she was getting desperate. In her heart she truly believed that, if she were in trouble, Servaes would again come save her.
As she once more began to walk, she didn’t notice the eyes that gathered from darkened shadows to watch her undetected. The onlookers hid themselves from her, blending with the walls, the lampposts, the side streets and alleys. Cloaked in the darkness, for they were of the darkness. The vampires watched her desperate search. They were curious about her intent, fearful of the resistance she had to them, and confused as to why she came back.
Jirí told them not to worry about her, that he went to speak with the council and that Servaes was in charge of keeping her away. But they all saw Servaes as he passed by the club to empty his chamber of most of his belongings. He was preparing to leave them, and the girl was still alive. She was again roaming too close to their homes.
"We should kidnap her," Lamar said callously. He came stealthily from the darkness to stand by Ginger. His gaze blackened with hate. "We should weaken her and wait for Jirí."
"We should kill her," Ginger hissed, her eyes gleaming red. Her small nose wrinkled as she sniffed the air. "Servaes does not watch her. We have a right to defend our homes, our kind!"
"She is marked by Servaes," Vincent spoke softly, coming to join them. He watched Hathor as she turned down a side alley. When she was from view, they stepped from the darkness and walked to follow behind her. Several others, hidden, came out to follow the trio. "This time there can be no mistake. You can smell him on her skin, in her blood. He has claimed her for himself. If we are to kill her, we will openly defy Servaes. If we are to kill her, we do it together this time. Each of us will have her blood on our tongues. The council will not punish us all for the life of one human who should have already been dead."
"Servaes is no one. He does not matter," Ginger vehemently seethed.
"He is one of the old. Do not disregard that. What if he is angered?" Lamar whispered. "What if he comes to avenge her?"
"Avenge the death of a blood being?" Ginger laughed, amused greatly by the very idea. "Tell me, Lamar, as a human would you avenge a chicken because it was overcooked by your chef?"
Lamar growled in outrage. Vincent guffawed heartily, a mocking and cold sound made more so by the fact that it was not he who was being ridiculed. Turning their attention back to the human, they watched as Hathor froze. Hearing the noise, she turned her head to where they stood. The vampires laughed harder as her fearful gaze passed over them. She visibly trembled and stumbled away. The sound of their pitiless voices echoed over the streets in a chorus of misfortune. Hathor spun around in circles, penetrating the darkness with her eyes, unable to see them, only able to hear the laughter.
"Shall we then?" Ginger inquired with a cocky tilt of her head.
"Oh, let us," Vincent murmured, relishing his demonic thoughts. A nasty grin found his lips, as he urged, "Come, Lamar. I have tasted this one. You will enjoy her."
Lamar glared, still hurt by Ginger’s insult. But as the other two materialized before the frightened woman, he too let himself be seen. They stalked forward, the suddenness of their heavy footfall catching her attention.
Hathor gasped. Her head twitched back to them with a start. She watched the three very familiar figures manifest from nothing. Her heart pounded wildly. She saw the dead look in their black gazes.
Spinning, she tried to run but skidded to a stop as she saw more vampires gathering around her from the other side. Their bodies materialized out of darkened corners, leapt down from the rooftops, and even appeared to grow up from the dampened streets until she was surrounded by a mob of them. Clutching her jacket to her breasts, her heart screamed out for Servaes. She had expected them to come for her if Servaes didn’t. She hadn’t expected there to be so many of them.
Vincent, Lamar, and Ginger drew closer. Hathor’s bottom lip began to tremble in mind-numbing fear. She shook her head. Vincent smiled at her, his eyes shining with a false fondness. Hathor grabbed her neck where he had bit her. His grin widened, spreading like the plague over his demented features. Slowly, he nodded his head and flashed his spiked teeth.
"Go away," she whispered at last, shaking from head to toe. "Leave me be. I want nothing to do with you."
"It is you who can’t leave us!" Ginger pouted like a spoiled child. Her British accent made her words very distinct and precise. "And here we thought you wanted to play with us again."
"I’m looking for Servaes," Hathor stated, as bravely as she could manage. She jutted her chin into the night air. Sniffing back her frightened tears, she declared, "I belong to him. Leave me be. Or else you will bring his wrath upon you."
"Oh, we can smell how you belong to him," Ginger spat.
Hathor froze, refusing to scream as the vampiress came near her face. Ginger’s tongue flicked out, licking Hathor’s neck, over her ear to the side of the temple. Hathor shivered in disgust.
Whispering, Ginger hissed, "I can taste him on your skin. Tell me, how much of you has he touched?"
Ginger growled, circling around Hathor to tug off her jacket with a mighty jerk. The sleeves pinned her arms to her sides as the vampiress pulled. She eyed the mortal woman’s gray T-shirt, licking the tips of her fangs thoughtfully.
"I can tell," Lamar said. He instantly was on his knees, pushing his nose to Hathor’s thighs covered by denim jeans. Her jacket fell to the ground, and her arms were freed. Hathor swatted desperately at his head, trying to push his sniffing nose out from between her legs. Ginger grabbed her arms from behind, holding her still. Lamar laughed. The vibration of it hit against her hip. "He was definitely here. I smell him on your cunt."
"And here," Vincent called, lifting her shirt up and pressing his nose into the valley of her warm breasts. She felt his tongue flick along her cleavage. She jerked back. Ginger held her tightly, her fingers digging into her flesh until bruises formed beneath her strong palms.
"I’ll bet he’s been everywhere," Ginger stated, as if it were an epiphany. Her hand traveled over Hathor’s backside to grasp it firmly.
"Leave me alone!" Hathor ordered with a stern shake of her immobile body. She tried to hide her terror and failed. Her voice squeaked horribly, as she demanded, "Get your hands off of me!"
"Or what?" Ginger asked, tauntingly.
"Oh, Gin. I believe she thinks herself too good for the likes of us," pouted Vincent. "Our blood isn’t old enough for her."
"Is that it?" Lamar questioned. "Well maybe it is because you haven’t tasted it."
"And she won’t either." Ginger laughed.
"Oh, but we’ll taste you," Lamar said, nodding his head slowly. His hand reached up to brush her cheek. Hathor jerked her face from him.
Ginger pressed the mortal woman’s arms ever more tightly to her sides so she couldn’t move. There were too many of them to fight or run from. Even if Hathor could shake Lamar from her legs and Vincent from her chest, she would never be able to run through the gathered crowd. She could still sense the other vampires behind her, watching the interplay quietly with avid interest. None there cared to save her. Their dark void of emotion grew around her--empty and sinister.
"And," Vincent added, "this time it won’t be gentle. This time, you’re going to feel it."
Instantly, all three lunged forward. Hathor screamed, fighting off her attackers. She might as well have been fighting a steel vice, for all her humanly punches and kicks affected the vampires.
The vampires raised her above the ground as they drank. Ginger locked her teeth on Hathor’s mortal throat. Vincent’s mouth dove for her breasts. His teeth pierced through her T-shirt to drain blood directly from her chest, sinking near her heart with a white heat, latching so she couldn’t buck him off. Lamar lunged for her t
high, lifting her artery up to his mouth rather than kneeling. He bit into the tender flesh of her leg, throwing the limb over his shoulder. Still the vampires around them only watched.
Hathor felt the piercing greediness of their onslaught like a knife tearing through her body. The more she fought them, the more their biting hurt and the deeper their embrace became. She could feel them sucking the energy from her, dazing her with the suddenness of it. Hathor kicked and pulled to no avail. They levitated her higher into the chilled night air.
"Halt! Release her!"
Hathor barely heard the harsh command. Her breath came out in heavy pants. The teeth slackened from her body, leaving her weak. Slowly, she was lowered to the ground. Her head lulled on her shoulders. Her body ached bitterly, throbbing sharply where they stung her. As her feet hit the solid earth, her tormentors released her. Her knees buckled. She collapsed into a heap.
For a moment, all were silent as she tried to find her strength. Breathlessly, she stared at the cold pavement. A freezing wind thrashed about her shoulders, chilling her thinned blood to the core. Her limbs shook unsteadily. Then she felt something. A small tug at her body -- a pull of the familiar.
Servaes! she thought, whipping her head up. Her eyes darted around. The crowd of vampires was departing, fleeing into the night, disappearing as stealthy as they came. Ginger, Vincent, and Lamar stood defiantly above her, blocking her view.
"We want her dead!" Ginger spat. "She is a risk to all of us!"
"We didn’t seek her out, she came to us!" yelled Vincent defensively.
Between a stiff pair of legs she saw the one they tried to defy step forward. She couldn’t see his face, but as soon as he spoke, she knew the voice. It gave her chills with its deadliness.
"You were ordered to leave her be," Jirí stated in his dispassionate tone. He stopped walking. "I have spoken with the council. They are not happy. I am ordered to bring her to them."
"Why should they get her?" Lamar voiced with mock bravado. "We found her."
"You lie," Ginger interjected, pushing past Lamar to boldly face Jirí. "Everyone knows there is no council. You just want her for yourself! What are you up to? If you want her, you’ll tell us what it is you plan."
Jirí’s laughter came soft and low as he finally stepped into Hathor’s view. His eyes glistened eerily, but his manner was unconcerned, bored. He eyed Ginger impassively before glancing down at the prone woman on the dirty ground.
Hathor’s cheek fell weakly to the earth, watching the dark intruder from in-between Ginger’s unmoving legs. Her breathing slowed. Her body weakened. Her head throbbed painfully, and her eyes stung with the violent need to cry.
"Wouldst you like me to take you before the council so you can ask them?" Jirí questioned, obviously amused by the notion.
"Come, Lamar. There are others about tonight. I can smell a family sitting down to dinner." Vincent jumped up from the street, disappearing into the night sky. Lamar was soon after him. Hathor stared into the heavens, seeing the heels of their feet before they disappeared.
Ginger leaned over, glaring at her. Bitterly, she muttered, "You’ll wish we finished what we started here once the elders get hold of you."
Hathor would have gasped if she could have managed it. Ginger turned, disappearing with a flash down the alleyway. Again the night was left silent.
When Jirí didn’t move, she rolled her head to the side to look at him. His arms were crossed as he studied her intently. His eyes flashed green. She knew he was reading her, or at least trying. She wondered how much he saw.
"Everything," Jirí whispered. He came up next to her within the span of a blink. "I see everything."
"But," Hathor tried to speak. Jirí interrupted her by lifting her into his arms. He carried her like she was a feather pillow, and he began to speed through the air. Lights began to blur as they passed over streets and buildings. She trembled, frightened by his emotionless face. "Are you going to kill me?"
Jirí glanced at her wan expression, giving away nothing as he continued to race through the night. He could feel her weakened state. Her attackers had almost been successful. He almost let them have their success. Unaffected by her tearful expression, he whispered, "Mayhap."
"But," Hathor began in protest.
Jirí frowned in annoyance. Lifting his hand across her face, he said nebulously, "Sleep."
Hathor’s eyes closed with an immediate, all consuming darkness. Jirí lifted her over his shoulder, never slowing as he continued on through the night.
* * * *
Servaes stepped over the paved streets. Lifting his nose to the air, he sniffed deeply. He could smell the faint traces of Hathor’s skin, her blood. A nerve twitched in his gut. The shriek of her echoing cry still lingered fearfully in his head.
Stupid mortal! Servaes fumed. His senses frantically searched for a palpable trace of her. He couldn’t find one. I told you to leave it be! Why did you come back?
Sniffing, he fell to the ground. The scent of her blood was stronger on the pavement, though he saw none of it. Then, his eyes growing black, he wrinkled his nose in disgust. Flying to his feet, he growled, "Ginger."
With an immortal growl and a fierce fire starting in his limbs, he shot out over the night. He flew over alleyways, by churches and graveyard. He flew by palaces and bridges, trying to regain the scent of Ginger. He couldn’t find her in the large city. Then, as dawn crept closer, he returned to the Vampire Club knowing that the others would gather near there.
Making his way through the passageway, he entered the club. It was free of humans, except for the bartender who mopped puddles of blood from the floor. Without Servaes to temper the young vampire’s ways, there had been a slaughter of human flesh. Blood was spattered everywhere in dotting trails across the walls and tables -- even the bartender’s clothing.
Seeing Vincent sitting on the edge of the stage, Servaes felt his eyes fill with loathing. His fangs grew longer, deadlier in his anger. He was ready for battle.
Vincent lifted his head, smiling as he motioned for Ginger and Lamar. They came from behind the stage. Vincent floated to his feet to be at the same level as his friends. Ginger and Lamar came beside him.
"What have you done with her?" Servaes growled, his voice carrying the dark trace of a demon. It boomed over the empty room. The bartender glanced up at the sound, dropped his mop, and hurried out the front passageway.
"Who?" Ginger shot with a cocky smirk. The three vampires dropped down from the stage to the main floor. They were still injured at having their fun stopped by Jirí. Smiling, they decided playing with Servaes would be just as entertaining.
"I can smell her on your foul breath," Servaes bellowed. His fingers tightened into fists as he charged forward. He grabbed Ginger about the throat and pushed her into the air, flying up into a stone wall. Growling viciously, he hollered, "Where is she?"
Ginger laughed, despite the pain in her throat. She didn’t fight back, knowing she never had a chance against his strength. "We all had a taste of her, Servaes. Her blood was sweet, her body even sweeter. It wasn’t fair of you to keep her all to yourself like that."
"What have you done with her?" he yelled, hiding his desperation behind his mask of hatred. He knew the games these vampires played. He knew about the impalements, the stakings, the torture devices. A howl, horrifying and deadly, escaped his lips as he leaned forward. His nose pressed into Ginger. His eyes flashed as his fingernails bit into her skin. As Ginger’s blood trailed down her neck, Servaes smelled Hathor in it.
"Where are you going?" Ginger yelled. "Cowards!"
Servaes dropped the vampiress to the ground, whirling in outrage to see Lamar’s blurred body fleeing into the tunnels below. The old vampire’s red eyes and snarled lips focused on Vincent. His head twitched as he caught the scent of her on him also.
"Tell me," Servaes commanded with a yell.
"You’ve nothing to worry about, friend. The council has decided they want her. Jirí has take
n her away to them. And there she will be killed." Vincent sensed the oncoming threat of dawn. He too disappeared into the tunnels to seek his bed. His mocking laughter could be heard ringing behind him.
"You had better find your grave, too," Ginger growled. She wanted to attack him, kill him. Her eyes glared jealously as she looked at him. But she was no fool. Servaes was too old, too powerful. Alone, she couldn’t win against him.
"Where did Jirí take her?" he bullied, taking a threatening step forward.
"I don’t know," she spat. Then, with a flash, she too fled from the rising sun.
Servaes wanted to go find Hathor. Every fiber in his being begged him to look for her. He could feel his heart breaking into a million pieces, as hers had that night they shared in her bedroom. If she were dead, then so was the last sliver of his humanity. He knew that if the council truly ordered Hathor killed or brought to them, Jirí would do as it was decreed. Honor and a sense of duty were traces of Jirí’s human life that the vampire couldn’t be rid of.
With a snarl, Servaes began heading for the club door. Seeing the bartender’s pale face, he stopped.
"The sun, my lord," the man said, pointing behind him.
Servaes growled viciously at him, helpless against the dawn. His fingers slashed though the air like brandished claws. His rage welled up in his chest, released with an excruciating yell. The bartender trembled, pulling away from the angry creature.
Servaes felt the approaching sun and was forced to turn around. He viciously tore through the underground tunnels to his coffin. As the sun barely poked the horizon, he angrily shut himself inside his dreary tomb.
* * * *
Hathor’s eyes shot open in a panic. She felt the walls of a coffin closing in on her. The cold fingers wrapped over her body felt oddly familiar to her blood, but she knew that it was not Servaes that held her. She struggled violently against the hands, sensing more than seeing Jirí’s closed eyes in repose.
Jirí’s gaze flashed open in annoyance to glare at her from their green-flecked depths. A low growl came from his lips. He grasped at her tightly.
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