by CD Brown
“Thank you all for attending. It was such a superb party.” His voice was reedy and wispy, very different from his tough exterior. “We were all intrigued by your dancing, Sophia, even if that music was a bit too…old for our tastes.”
“Well, the Black and Whites appreciated it,” Loretta said. “Cutting a rug to Prima was a gas. It was that other guy who flipped his wig who gave us the willies.”
“Are you talking about Nesbit?” Sophia saw Loretta nodding. “I went to his ceremony last Sunday.”
“Really?” Pamela had a skeptical look. “He has bugged me for at least a year. He says he has some technology we should invest in.”
“Dude won’t shut up about it.” Alpha nodded in agreement. “He don’t care who you are. As long as you vamp, he wants you on his side.”
“Does anybody know what this thing is he keeps talking about?” Sophia saw shaking heads around the table. “But do we want to find out?” Here they nodded.
“At least it’ll shut him the fuck up.” The room seemed to agree with Alpha’s sentiment.
“Okay, who wants to investigate?” Sophia saw no one stepping up.
“Well,” said Sandy, “you are the sheriff. Sounds like something in your job description.”
Sophia wasn’t sure her look communicated her “thanks a lot” message to Sandy, but the barely-contained laughter from her right-hand woman showed it might have. “As if I don’t have enough to do.”
“No, it has to be you, Sophia.” Pamela leaned forward. “You’ve shown us, proven to us, that you can be impartial. Frankly, we’ve had too many encounters with this boob to give him the time of day.”
“I thought I saw enough when all of his congregation dropped trou the other day.”
“But we need to know what he’s up to.” Pamela was insistent like any other high-level executive not used to hearing no. “And you’ll see if it’s real or good or dangerous.”
“Okay.” Sophia didn’t like it, but she knew the responsibility was hers. “Oh, speaking of dangerous, any sightings of Fudgie?”
No one had seen him since that night at the beach, but Sophia knew he was somewhere scheming his revenge. Tamar stood.
“I’ll slice that fucker’s head off if I see him again.”
“Despite my usual non-violent stance, I agree with her.” Sophia knew someone like Fudgie could bring war to the factions, even if they were all playing nice right now.
“Should we go so far as to put up a bounty?” Sandy looked for a vote, but Sophia swiped her arm.
“That’s going too far. He has no friends in L.A. right now. Something like that might get him sympathy.”
Everyone capitulated to Sophia here as she looked set in this pronouncement. She was glad they deferred to her but knew she couldn’t dictate policy. They gave her one or two pronouncements, but anything more would certainly rankle them all. Including Sandy.
They had some lamb’s blood Sophia had recently acquired to toast the evening. Loretta made a squinchy face.
“It’s okay, doll. But why drink Kool-Aid when you have the best Bordeaux?”
Sophia didn’t say anything. She wasn’t sure the thralls kept by the Black and Whites weren’t de facto slaves, but she didn’t have the standing to say anything different. They and the Glamazons were hold outs on the whole blood issue, intractable in their insistence on humans as their food source. Having a say and having control were two totally different concepts.
As the meeting broke up, most of them left the conference room, but Sophia lingered over her drink.
“You okay, babe?” Sandy looked concerned, a different face from her normally cold exterior.
“Sure. Just got a lot on my mind.”
Sophia felt hands on her shoulders, recognizing them as Jeremiah’s. He kneaded her muscles and she leaned back and into his massage. Sandy waved and left the room.
“You always try to do too much,” he said. “We need some fun. Like after the ball.”
It’s true, their lovemaking was especially intense that night, a release after all of the dressing up and dancing. Feeling relaxed made her pay closer attention, something Jeremiah didn’t have a problem with. Was she ignoring him because of all this business that she didn’t really want in the first place?
“What do you have in mind?”
“Steve keeps talking about this after hours place they go to. Why not see about that?”
Sophia had avoided those places, thinking them only like the ball, all leather and techno. But Jeremiah looked like he needed some release, too. He had just finished a tough action film that had him going non-stop for six weeks.
“Okay, but if it’s too gothy, I may have to bow out.”
“Whatever you want.”
Steve was extremely excited they were coming out. “Oh, man! This is so cool! They all think I go to meetings to network, but you know I’m really down with the whole rehab thing, right?”
Sophia only half believed that, but it was good that Steve thought so. “Who all’s going?”
“The app staff.” The collection of pale vampire hipsters, each turned within the last five years when they were in college or just graduated, quivered when they saw Sophia was going along.
“How bad could it be?” she thought.
Sophia had never attended a frat party, but she thought this club was as close as she would get. The place was some warehouse on the southeast side of downtown with brick walls and a roll-up metal door for large trucks. But inside was something different tonight.
The vamps here were not androgynous Glamazons, but eager kids in jeans and sweaters with asymmetrical haircuts and thick nerdy glasses. The music was indie rock of recent vintage, driving and upbeat with lyrics about believing in yourself.
Jeremiah fit in, his flannel matched by more than a few in the crowd. Sophia bounced around with him for a few songs, but quickly soured on the soundtrack. When Jeremiah sat down at the table with a bottle of beer, she knew he was disappointed she wasn’t having more fun.
“It ain’t you, baby. It’s this music. I never much cared for rock, but this stuff? It all sounds like that Up With People garbage from the ‘70s.”
“That’s about ten years before I was born.”
“Really? You’re such an infant.”
She laughed when he stuck his tongue out. He pulled on his beer, then pointed into the crowd where Steve pogoed with the hook-nosed girl whose name was Maisie. “See, y’all old people don’t know fun anymore. Why you gotta be so gloomy?”
“Gloomy? You’re thinking of those Gen-Xers like Alpha and Tamar. My jazz was fun, but it was from the street, too.”
“Come on, one more dance.”
“Naw, but you join them. I hate being the old woman at the party ruining your fun.”
“You are old, but you’re fun. Just not now.” Jeremiah finished his bottle of beer, then joined Steve and Maisie. He held up one finger, signaling he would have one more drink and call it a night. Sophia hoped that drink would go down quickly.
“Ms. Fontanelle?” Another young-looking woman, bobbed hair under a backwards trucker cap and wearing a white t-shirt and ripped jeans, smiled at her. “May I?”
“Sure.” As she sat, Sophia saw both arms were covered with neon-colored tattoos from shoulder to wrist. “Nice work.”
“Yeah, I dig it. I know permanent means something else with our kind, but these are still new.”
Sophia had no way of knowing any vamp’s age, but this one sounded as young as tonight’s compatriots. “Never had the guts for it. Too old now, I guess.”
“You’re never too old when you look like us.” She held out her hand. “Myra.”
Sophia shook her hand. Her grip was firm, confident. “You having fun tonight, Myra?”
“Sure am. But I can see this whole scene may be whack for you. You look a little down.”
“Too much stuff in my head to have fun. Plus, I’m getting tired.”
“You want a pick-me-up?”
/> “I usually don’t.”
“It’s cow blood. We’re with you on the whole human thing.” Myra stood. “Come on. Follow me.”
Sophia looked to Jeremiah who twisted and twirled with Steve and Maisie. A drink of blood might spur her back to the floor. She stood and followed Myra.
They went past the table where the DJ had set up. The halls narrowed as Myra led Sophia into a dimly lit section.
“Is there a kitchen back here or something?” The music was muted now, so they could talk at a normal volume.
“No, just a little setup we have.”
“Who’s we?” But Myra hadn’t heard her and Sophia was having trouble keeping up as she twisted through the halls, the place now looking like self-storage units in very similar blocks. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to find her way back alone.
But when they reached a dead end, Myra turned, a wicked smile on her face as she pulled her cap’s bill to the front. Sophia sensed the danger and swung around to leave, but two doors rolled open and a stream of vamps, all in leather jackets and ripped jeans, filled the hallway. They were all feral, fangs out and eyes red.
“Fucking cow’s blood.” Myra spoke behind her. “Your whole deal is bullshit, man. Gotta let the vamps be vamps.”
The others, all men and eight strong, formed a fierce roadblock to Sophia’s exit. But they weren’t attacking, not just yet.
Sophia faced the phalanx of her attackers but called over her shoulder to the young female. “Then we lose too much. We get out of control. We get careless. Once the humans know we’re real, they’ll go to war. And then what?”
“Simple. We own the night.”
Sophia ducked, sensing Myra moving in to strike. With a quick move, Sophia grabbed her head and flipped her forward, into the now-attacking phalanx. The feral vamps caught her, and Myra was on her feet and in an attack stance in seconds.
Sophia, now trapped with her back against a brick wall, looked for a way out. She might be able to take all of them, but might wasn’t a plan of action. Her eyes looked up: ceilings were maybe ten feet. Over was not an option.
That left down or through. But she couldn’t plan anymore, as Myra flashed forward. Crossing her arms, Sophia caught each of Myra’s wrists, then pulled until the younger vamp had crossed arms. Myra looked surprised by Sophia’s strength as she tugged to free her clawed hands.
Sophia drove her forehead into Myra’s nose with an audible crack. Having knocked her backwards, Sophia released Myra then, stiffening her arms and pushing Myra backwards and into the front line of attackers. But she felt what Sophia was doing, so Myra rolled with the push, going to the ground.
Sophia lost balance and tripped into the center of all the toughs. Claws and teeth swirled around her in a vampire tornado, but nothing hit too deep. However, many scratches nicked her bare arms.
To counter, she whirled herself, a dervish dance of her newly-sprung claws going for eyes, or at least faces, with every sweep. This tactic did damage to those surrounding her, but she felt her knees buckle as someone kicked the back of her legs. As she fell to the floor, she tightened herself into a ball as the combat boots of this punkish army hailed down stomps and kicks.
“You are weak!” Myra’s voice had turned to a screech. “We will never be like you, trying to be like humans again. This city will belong to us once all the vamps see how powerful we can be.”
As Myra yelled out her worst nightmare, Sophia gripped the knee of one of those kicking her, specifically one that stood between her and freedom, and bit down with all her strength. The vamp yelled and backed away, grabbing his wound.
With a hole open, Sophia used all her remaining strength to run. Vampire speed got her out of the circle of pain, but she expected them to be right behind her. However, she sensed they weren’t pursuing, so she slowed down.
“This was just a warning.” Sophia turned to see Myra holding back her compatriots. “The revolution is coming. You stand in our way and you’ll die like those day-walking sheep.”
Sophia fled, hurt and out of breath, unwilling to take a stance without some help. She found her way back to the party room by using her extra-sharp perception. She gathered Jeremiah, Steve and as many VampAmp people as she could, but when she returned to the back part of the warehouse, Myra and her gang were gone.
Chapter Fifteen
Sophia cancelled all her meetings for the next night, going to the VampAmp offices instead to see if she could find out just who attacked her. She sat with Maisie who was scouring the message boards while also talking with Tamar on the phone.
“I’m running a routine with that phrase you heard, ‘own the night.’ That sounds familiar.” Maisie typed it in, then walked off for a nip of blood.
“They were white,” Sophia told Tamar. “They looked like punks, maybe ‘90s grunge style? I couldn’t tell.”
“That describes the hardcore uniform since the days of The Ramones.”
“I know. That’s what makes this so frustrating.” Sophia watched the green bar growing as Maisie’s program worked. “Guess this shows me how big L.A. is after all.”
“Chica, you can’t know all the vamps in town. I barely knew Alpha before you came around.”
“I’ll take that as a thank you. Anyway, put your feelers out. Maybe they’re from the Valley? Orange County?”
“Who the fuck knows? I’ll do my best.”
As Tamar hung up, Sophia, who had finally gotten a smart phone, saw she had an e-mail. Nesbit had invited her to see this breakthrough technology he had. The plant was in Pasadena, apparently a secret project by some Jet Propulsion Lab suppliers. Sophia agreed to meet him at midnight, saying that Jeremiah would bring her.
As Maisie sat with a coffee cup brimming with burgundy liquid, Sophia said, “I think I gotta get a car.”
“I tried all the car sharing because it’s so high-tech and new, but sometimes you just want to have control.”
“Problem is I don’t know how to drive. I don’t even have a license or ID.”
“They do it all through the mail, but that’s if you had one to begin with. Sounds like something we should be working on, the after-hours DMV for the undead.” Maisie opened a document file titled “Ideas” and typed that one in.
“Hopefully they’ll be faster. Wouldn’t want to be there all night, then get caught by the sun.”
“For sure. Oh, here we go.” Her search had no direct hits on the phrase, but twenty-two users had used something similar. Maisie started typing. “There’s something weird here. Looks like a hack.”
“Why would someone want to mess with your system?”
“Maybe these vamps are like us, a cabal in name only. No shacking up.”
“That would make them harder to find. And harder to defeat. The Muertos are still reeling from Fudgie’s ambush.”
“You don’t think these are his people, do you?” Maisie’s fingers blurred as she examined the deep reaches of her database.
“No. This is something different. Gangsters are about power, yes, but power in the form of money. These guys were talking about taking over the world.”
“So, nothing too ambitious.”
“I’ve read the VampAmp prospectus. Y’all aren’t that different. Except for the whole violence thing.” Sophia laughed as Maisie nodded.
After taking another sip from her cup, Maisie typed again with one hand. She straightened and put the cup down. Her fingers went to light speed along the keyboard as she called out for one of the other coders. Horton, a bearded and bespectacled young-looking techie, bent over Maisie’s shoulder.
“Holy shit!”
Maisie stopped typing. “I can’t believe this.” She turned to Sophia. “They created a subsite. There’s hundreds of users, but we can’t get to the content without the passwords.”
“We’ll get them,” Horton said. “But it will take some time.”
“Whoever they are, they’re sophisticated and motivated. I can’t think of a worse combination.” So
phia stood. “Let me know when you find out who’s behind this. I have to start rallying everyone we know.”
Jeremiah knew the way to Pasadena, not far from the ZLVG offices, but a haul from Santa Monica and VampAmp. Even at 11 p.m., the freeways had cars flowing around them, but not so many that they couldn’t get there within a half hour.
“Man, I wish it was like this all the time.” Jeremiah looked over his shoulder as he changed lanes. “You never see the worst of it.”
“I’m supposed to be sorry for that?”
“Little sympathy wouldn’t hurt.” Jeremiah’s look was sarcastic, so Sophia played along.
“Sorry, daywalker,” she said in a throaty voice. “But the children of the night have no tolerance for traffic.”
“Ten minutes on the 405 and you’d be begging me to stake you.” They both laughed as Jeremiah pulled onto the third freeway of this trip. “We ain’t far.”
“Jesus, in New Orleans, we’d be in Mississippi by now.”
They arrived fifteen minutes late, but Nesbit greeted them outside the front door with a big grin. He wore a white suit similar to the one Sophia had seen during the ball and the church service. Her nose told her it wasn’t dirty, so he must have had a stockpile. She thought of the men back home who wore white and seersucker, either lawyers or writers. She wasn’t sure which was worse.
“It’s such an honor to have you here.” Nesbit’s voice did have that preacher’s lilt, but she didn’t think he was Southern. Too nasal for Dixie. “The boys inside are thrilled to show off what they’re up to.”
The building was in an office park in a tangle of roads north of the Old Town strip, the building three stories of generic glass and brick. It didn’t stick out here, nor would it anywhere, looking like a place where people filed in at 9 a.m., rushed out at 5, then drank to forget they were ever there. But Nesbit’s enthusiasm plowed through the oppressiveness of his location.
“What is this place?” Sophia walked through the front doors and past a security guard station, empty at this hour.