“Alex, it’s not your fault,” agreed Michelle.
Alex wasn’t sure she believed them but appreciated the sentiments. Alex nudged Margaret’s hand with her cheek and held on to it with one of her hands.
“I believe you are in danger.” Dante had clearly not finished saying all he meant to.
“You mean from Lauren?” Alex asked. “But why would that be? We are, well, we were…best friends. Why would she hurt me? You’re a vampire and you don’t want to hurt me.”
“She is not the same person,” Dante said sternly. “No vampire is the same after they have left their human selves behind. The need to consume human blood is akin to basic survival. Lauren will have powers that she does not understand, urges she cannot control and a hunger that will never be satisfied. Her strength during the first month is tripled. Her body is in hyperactive mode as it customises itself to its new abilities. Think as if she has woken up on steroids and it takes time for them to get out of her system. Such is the predicament of a vampire. We are always strong, but we are stronger and more desperate when first made and a danger to everyone.”
“That still doesn’t answer why she would want to come after me.”
“Has she ever resented you?”
“No, I don’t think so. Why? I told you we were friends.”
“Friends fight.” Dante looked at her pointedly.
“Yeah, of course. We…well yeah we did fight a bit. But it wasn’t anything serious. We always made up.”
“Alexandra, you need to be aware of the possibility. She is without her makers and very dangerous. It is my belief the reason you have not heard from her is that she is planning on getting to you. You were there the night she was turned. You were also there the night Ryan was killed. Yet she never attempted to see you. I feel there is a bigger plan around this. Something is going on. She is alone and will reach out to you. Either physically or emotionally, but she will be coming.”
“Dante, look, I appreciate you looking out for me, but I just can’t believe the girl I knew since school would actually try to kill me.”
Margaret cleared her throat. “He doesn’t actually mean that she would kill you, dear. He means she might try to push you to the breaking point and then turn you.”
Alex looked from her mother to Dante. “Really?”
“It is very possible. We need companionship, especially in our first few years.”
“Will she be able to get in here?” Alex said, shifting in her seat. She still did not believe Lauren would try and hurt her, but the fact is she wasn’t sure.
“Not if you don’t invite her in,” Michelle replied.
Alex narrowed her eyes. “You’re really going to have to give me a list of what’s real and what’s just Hollywood legend.”
“That part of Stoker’s novel was correct.” Dante said. “I often wondered if he had experience with one of us back in the eighteen hundreds.”
“So what else was he right about?”
“I hate the smell of garlic but I can’t turn into a bat or wolf. I cast a reflection and can touch a crucifix. Holy water does not bother me and neither does pure silver. Gold on the other hand, pure gold, affects vampires. Shackles and restraints made out of pure gold can’t be broken by us, regardless of how old and strong we are.”
“You don’t like, sparkle in the sun do you?” Alex asked, semi-seriously.
Margaret looked confused, and Michelle burst out laughing.
“No.” Dante gave Michelle a look of exasperation.
“Do you burn in the sun?” asked Alex.
“No, not that either.”
“But you do sleep during the day?”
“Yes.”
“Why? I mean, if you don’t burn?”
Dante scowled. “As soon as the sun rises, we lose consciousness. We drop where we stand. In effect, we become corpses.”
“So if I were to find you during the day and like…I don’t know, scream at you, or beat you over the head?”
“I wouldn’t even stir.”
“Ok. I can see how that could be a problem. So what can you do?”
“Pardon?”
“Well you have just gone on about all the stuff you can’t do, so what can you do?”
“Vampires and humans are not all that dissimilar. No two humans are the same and neither are we. For example, some humans can sing and some can’t. Some vampires can read thoughts, some can’t. We are all fast, strong and seductive. We need these things to survive; that is our evolution. We have fangs and nails because we can’t eat our food with a knife and fork. Fresh, human blood straight from the source. We can survive on blood that has been harvested for several days, but not for long. We each have an ability granted to us at random when we are created. The older we get, the stronger we get.”
“Before I ran off the other night, I saw you bite that woman. Can you live off vampire blood?”
“In a way. What you saw is the reason I have been outcast from the vampire community for the most part.”
“How so?”
“I am viewed as a parasite. Vampires don’t feed on each other. It is usually impossible. Vampiric blood is volatile, and two such substances in one system is disastrous, usually breaking down the body’s tissue. I, on the other hand, discovered that drinking vampire blood gives me a strength enhancement, much the way human blood gives me vitality. The older the vampire, the more I benefit.”
“Why can you drink other vamps’ blood, though, if others can’t? Could your makers?”
“I don’t know.”
Michelle piped up. “I think he was made by a Bradshaw.”
Alex raised her eyebrows, waiting for an explanation.
“A little joke of Michelle’s,” Dante offered.
“No it’s not. I’m dead serious,” Michelle countered, then addressing Alex. “You’re a teacher, you know of the Bradshaw Paintings in the Kimberly right?”
“The rock paintings? Sure. But what do they have to do with anything? They were made between thirty to forty thousand years ago.”
“Well, actually they might be older. Some say it’s some of the oldest art ever found. But those beings that are drawn, they’re not white and they aren’t Aboriginal. But they are seen with sashes and head dresses, the works. In a lot of the depictions they look like they are performing or engaging in some sort of rituals,” Michelle said the last word slowly, looking at Alex as if trying to jog her memory of when they last spoke of recorded vampire ceremonies.
“You know,” Margaret said suddenly, “I have never thought about it like that. You could very well be right.”
“What do you think?” Alex asked Dante.
“I think she’s crazy,” he replied without a second thought.
Michelle gave a childish breath out of her nose before continuing. “Well, I think you can’t come up with a better explanation. So until you do—” she finished the sentence by sticking her tongue out and gesturing to him with her outstretched fingers.
Dante smirked. “In truth, no one knows our beginnings, where, why, when, how. And anything is possible. The one thing that is more or less agreed upon by our scholars is the existence of a group of men and women around before recorded time, which are considered to be the original vampires. Beings who fed off the blood of the living. You can see why they have been thought of as merely mythical, being that old. But it is true, no one has been able to tell me why I can drink vampire blood.”
“So you’re the only one who can, huh?”
Suddenly, Alex felt as if she had said the wrong thing. The room not only became silent, but void of atmosphere. Dante was expressionless. Alex looked to Michelle and Margaret, who looked at each other as an understanding passed between them.
Dante spoke slowly. “No. There is one other who can.”
Alex leant back in her seat. Dante didn’t sound angry, but he sure looked it. That lightness around his irises she had seen before was back. Hell, the mood was awkward enough already. “Did I say so
mething wrong?”
“No, Alex, not at all,” Dante assured her. His eyes were still menacing, but his voice was calmer. “Just a very unpleasant memory. The vampire in question is called Melina.”
Ah ha. Bingo. The vampire Julian always wanted. Dante and Julian hated each other, so Michelle had said. There was obviously much more to this. But not for tonight, she gathered.
“So drinking other vampires’ blood isn’t just your particular ability? Your thing you can do?”
Dante shook his head. “No.”
He rose and walked over to the nearest wall and placed his right hand on it, as if he were feeling for something. Dante used his left hand and placed it above his right, then did the opposite. Alex then realised what was happening. Dante was climbing up the wall. When he got to the ceiling he turned himself upside down and faced her, his hands in his pockets. He paced along the ceiling without a care in the world, not bothered at all by gravity or the law of physics.
Michelle and Margaret applauded.
“Ok,” said Alex, joining the clapping. “I’m suitably impressed.”
Dante turned and walked back down the way he came. When his feet were finally touching the ground, he leant casually against the wall.
“So, you’re strong, you’re fast and you can climb walls? Is there anything else you haven’t shown me?”
“Well, there is one thing. Vampires have a sort of birthday power that comes on the day we are made every year.”
Alex waited for him to continue, but Dante remained silent. “So?”
“I’ll tell you on my birthday.”
Alex laughed and shook her head.
“Besides,” Dante continued. “There is another reason Michelle and I came here, and that is to ask you and your mother to accompany us to the presentation tonight.”
“Me, why me?” Alex asked.
“It was my idea,” Michelle interrupted. “It’s Dante and my sixth anniversary, and they are doing a little thing for us. Nothing major. You’re a part of the family now so to speak, and I just thought you might like to see for yourself what all the fuss is about. You’ll be safe with us.”
Alex studied Michelle’s face as she talked. Alex believed her, but she wasn’t telling the whole reason. A reason Alex understood anyway. This was Michelle’s moment. A night recognising how far she had come.
“Of course I’ll go. I’d be happy to.”
“Great!” Michelle said. Her eyes didn’t mask the relief her laid back tone tried to muster.
“Can you tell me a bit more about it? What can I expect?” Alex asked.
“They have these things one night a year and they can’t help but draw it out. Tonight is open bar—the group’s favourite time. Unlike the usual definition, open bar is like a wine tasting and an auction all in one. If the vampire is agreeable, and the human too, then they can be put up for sale. The humans are basically sipped at by various members of the group and bids are placed. You get a few party crashers coming in for the free feed, but it’s mostly kept in order.”
“That sounds really disgusting.” Alex made a face.
“Yeah, it is in a way.” Michelle nodded. “But it’s also worthwhile for a lot of reasons. For instance, we are talking about serious money here, both for the vampire and the human. If you have kids and a mortgage, an open bar night can almost wipe out your debt if you’re lucky.”
“You mean if you taste good?”
“Right. Also a good portion of the money goes to the Keep The Heart Beating Foundation. Dante is one of the founders. KTHB works to raise awareness for vamps and actually teach them how to let their victims live when they feed. It is not a common or well-known skill and sadly, very few care to even learn how. It also provides all kinds of support for humans who have been abused in any way, providing money, shelter, counselling and that sort of thing. So believe me it’s a worthy cause.”
“How much do you usually go for?” Alex teased.
“Michelle has never been put up for auction. We never stay for open bar,” Dante explained.
“Why is that?” Alex asked Michelle.
“There’s no point. There ain’t no way I’m letting another vamp feed on me like I told you. Not that Dante would ever do that to me anyway. But still, I would be like the juicy cheeseburger at the barbecue no one could have. I would be there, but no one could feed on me or bid for me. It could cause problems. Like he said, Dante and I usually leave shortly after open bar starts, but he has to be there for appearance’s sake.”
“Do you think Lauren will be there?” Alex asked.
“I doubt it, but she might try,” Dante replied.
“Wait, no one’s going to try to, you know—” Alex wiggled her finger towards her own throat.
Dante again shook his head slowly while eyeing her. “Not only are you not a donor, you and Margaret would be my guests. No one would dare touch you.”
“Well…” Alex started with a sigh of relief. “What do I wear?”
Chapter Twenty-One
You Are Not Welcome
Lauren remained still on the park bench, only her eyes following the jogger making his way around the park’s running track. He was at least a hundred metres away, but she could see the sweat on his shoulders, hear his pulse pounding along with his feet, smell the blood rising to the surface of his skin. Her head felt tight, like the beginnings of a migraine, but she didn’t need tablets for this—what she needed was the quickest and sweetest fix in the world. She slowly moved her head left and right, ensuring no one was about. She rose slowly, eyes locking on to the jogger, making his way round the home stretch, heading straight for her. But she wouldn’t wait for him to get closer. She had tracked his movements, and he was approaching the ANZAC Memorial.
Within seconds, Lauren was there, using the shadows to hide herself. She remained silent, the darkness concealing her completely. She heard the footsteps approaching. Steady, rhythmic, gravel crunching sounds, closing in. Suddenly they stopped and she knew, though she couldn’t see him, the jogger was not in the same room with her. She listened harder, still hearing the frantic heartbeat begin to slow down. So he was here, but where? She followed her senses, moving slowly as to not make a sound until she finally found him. He faced away from her, down on one knee, before a sculpture of a deceased youth held aloft on his shield by a caryatid.
With a quick movement, Lauren reached for the back of his head and sunk her fangs into his neck, shearing it open and drinking. His screams were drowned out by her hand clasped over his mouth as his flailing hand slowed and ceased altogether.
Lauren continued to drink heavily, groaning happily into the ruined flesh of her victim when her eyes rested on the statue. She let go of her meal, blood from her mouth dripping onto the dead jogger. The black of the statue glowed even in the low light of the room. Something about the statue made her feel uneasy. No...unwelcome. Unclean. She looked down at the jogger, no longer feeling like laughing. A pressure descended upon her, resting squarely on top of her but she saw nothing; but something was there, in the room with her. Rising quickly, the corpse fell with a dull thwack, suddenly too heavy for her to carry.
The pressure was building, the statue of the soldier, positioned upside down in all its beautiful sadness, appeared to be burning a hole through her. She stared back and began to tremble. Something was telling her to leave, ordering her. That her actions were reprehensible. She could almost hear the voice in her head.
With sudden desperation, Lauren spat a huge glob of blood over at the statue. The spittle hit the upside down face with a splat. “Fuck you!” she screamed through quivering lips.
Lauren turned and headed out, when she stopped and turned back, thinking she had imagined the sudden burning smell, but she hadn’t. Nor had she imagined the sound. The blood on the statue was sizzling like acid. Within seconds it had disappeared, leaving the statue as it was, blemish free, gleaming and untouched.
Lauren left, feeling strong enough only to go at human speed. Sh
e walked along a little further, stumbling outside the memorial when she found herself hunched over, her meal gushing out of her mouth and flooding the ground in front of her.
Weak and starving again, she crawled away from the memorial. After a few meters she found soft grass and rolled slowly onto her back, staring up at the stars of the clear night sky. The noises of the city, tires screeching and horns blaring and the conversations of the random people of Sydney enveloped her still form.
“…come on, the game’s starting!”
“I saw you staring at her tits!”
“Did you see what she was wearing?”
“…but what will we name it if it’s a girl?”
“…don’t you speak about my mother like that!”
“Why do you like me…?”
“Just keep following this one. It’s Delavega’s car. We’ll push through traffic that way.”
Lauren was suddenly alert. Delavega! She was unsteady getting to her feet but she managed, eyes darting around, searching for the owner of that voice. Still weak, she made her way over to the short brick wall that surrounded the park, and to the side that ran parallel to the main road. There. A line-up of three limousines stopped at a red light. Normally that wouldn’t be enough to give it away, except when Lauren picked up a scent she knew very well. A fragrance with a hint of lilac.
When the light changed and the cars moved off, Lauren followed after them. She would feed again, many times if she had to. But she would be ready for the night’s proceedings.
Chapter Twenty-Two
You’re Mine
Lauren watched the hotel ballroom from across the road when she spotted movement. A figure was scurrying up the fire escape towards the roof. She looked closely and found a familiar face.
What the hell is Matt doing here?
She followed him along the roofline, climbing the last step and emerging past narrow steel chimneys and electricity generators humming their continuous drone, until she could see the skylight. Matt was on his stomach, peering down through the window.
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