"Stop!" She firmly grabbed the green mohican and pulled her young fledging away from the unconscious victim. "You don't want to kill her!"
"Why not?" The fledgling enquired, almost absentmindedly, licking her own lips with an appreciative tongue.
"Haven't you read Anne Rice?" She was trying to rekindle their literary conversations of old. Why did she need the reassurance?
"Well," Sid made a big facial show of thinking, before continuing: "something to do with …….dead blood basically not very good for a vampire's health. But," the joke now gone out of her voice. "You don't necessarily want to leave a trail of corpses in your wake."
"Exactly. I know, it can be fun!" She remembered it well. "But, nowadays, human beings are more scientifically clued-up than they used to be. Safety is paramount."
"You mean: secrecy." The human Sid had never been that argumentative.
"Whatever." Had she created a rebel? But weren't vampires, each and every one of them, rebel of some kind?
Sid licked the neck of her victim one last time and let her drop in the out-of-sight doorway. Her eyes found Joy's wondering face; they both could easily pass for humans of the living kind after feeding. She could almost see the blood pumping under the skin of her maker. And this blood had been so much tastier than the one unwillingly offered by the young woman still in her teens. Joy's eyes looked around.
"We've got to go, Sid. Can you feel the sun? It is getting ready to break out."
The older vampire wove an arm around the waist of the younger one, getting hold of her securely, and flew off above the street, fast and powerful.
CHAPTER THREE
Sid woke up from her first day of vampiric slumber with many questions chasing each other around her restless mind. Was she able to fly? What about this recent mutation Joy had once upon a time mentioned, daywalking, was she capable of it? What about hypnosis? How strong was she? How fast was she? And what about mindreading? The awareness of the older vampire staring at her flooded her mind and she opened her eyes. They had taken refuge in Sid's flat as she had not changed the black PVC curtains, or the cosy vast quilt, after Joy's disappearance. Sid's bedroom was still a safe haven for vampires.
Joy had risen back to consciousness earlier than Sid. She was older, more sensitive to the movements of the sun. Hopefully wiser. Sid's teasing fingers started trailing gently across Joy's naked belly, sending shivers across the skin, starting a fire in the elder’s senses. Sid hungry for sex, suggesting sex? What kind of vampire had Joy created on impulse…….
* * * * * * *
And every night would start the same way. Sid would feed her hunger for sex - or would lust be a more appropriate word, Joy wondered- before feeding her thirst for blood.
Soon, Sid was calling the shots, choosing the hunting grounds and selecting the victims. Like Joy, Sid would ensnare the victims with sexual advances. Each victim was female, sometimes goth, sometimes punk, always willing. Threesomes, foursomes. Sid also liked watching. And Sid liked dealing pain. Joy was just about able to stir her onto the fetish scene, just about able to keep her within limits of safety for their toys. This was what the young vampire was doing: toying with the victims.
The morning Sid laughed at Joy and stood in the first rays of the sun in front of the older vampire's eyes, just outside their day shelter, and laughed even louder when her skin didn't sizzle with the heat, Joy started to curse her impulsiveness, wondering about the cruelty she had exercised throughout the 20th century. Irony: Sid, the human Sid, had taught her how to feel again, and now Joy had given Sid the gift of cruelty. She watched the young immortal glide effortlessly a few feet above the ground. The laughter resonating, vibrating in the still quiet streets of South London. A dog barked somewhere at the back, and a cat responded.
* * * * * * *
Somewhere else, in an unspecified location, probably in another dimension, certainly a different realm, two major players were contemplating the disaster on their monitors, while the Envoys of Death and Life's Helpers were milling about their multiple missions. Sadness was painting shadows under Death's eyes and paleness on Life's usually sunny features.
"So much for my holidays!" Death joked.
"You know what this means?" Life eventually smiled, amused.
"I've been at it too long?"
Silence greeted Death's musing. They both knew the truth. That a human was made into a vampire was supposed to be irrelevant to them, even at the worst of time.
"She is not really a threat to the order of things."
"So far……."
"But,……." Life prodded.
Death laughed. There was a hint of bitterness in the sound. The plan for Sid had been for her to die and join Death; it had been such all along; they had never expected Joy's sudden impulse. Maybe Life was right, Death had been at it too long. So many millennia. She decided to state out loud a reality they both were aware of and never had trouble with.
"Vampires are not under our dominion."
"Not per se."
"The only reason we were able to take Toni and Dee-Dee out was because they were threatening the balance."
"A technicality."
"They don't care. They're too busy playing cards. Or whatever They've been doing since They relinquish Their responsibilities to us."
"We're supposed to be wise enough."
"There has never been the shadow of an instance needing Their express return."
"The possibility of this occurrence is rated at less than 0.000000000001%."
"Close enough to nil."
Life and Death looked at each other, seriousness in both pairs of amazing eyes. Each knew where this was taking them. Life skipped a step and voiced her personal position:
"If you were to retire, I don't think I could work with another Death. We've been at it together too long for me to change my habits."
"What about Them?"
"Oh, we just have to find a loophole."
"Ha, ha! A loophole! Life! Your sense of humour alone is worth the millennia on this job!"
CHAPTER FOUR
This definitely reminded Joy of the years of insomnia before her encounter with Sid. The restless days waking up before sundown, roaming the streets of Soho just before darkness falls. She was older than Sid, she was likely to rise earlier than the new vampire. Really? The fledgling was more powerful than any she had ever met, even more powerful than she had been, or the cruelly alluring Toni probably. How was that possible?
She had to take the risk, she needed to know: whatever happened to Sid Wasgo? Was it a feeling of abandonment at Joy’s disappearance? But Sid had seemed so strong, behind her shyness, her quietness, her lack of understanding of the world. She used to have a calculated strength fuelled by her natural, intellectual curiosity. The very same curiosity that had made Joy secretly glad that Death had prevented her from feasting on the writer’s neck. With her need for constant analysis, Sid must have kept a diary. Joy silently opened a desk drawer, her ears attentive to the non-existent pulse, to the imminent first flutter of the retinas. In the obscurity, she saw the hardback notebook resting tantalizingly. After a motionless second, her hand swiftly grabbed it and she almost glided out of the bedroom, carefully replacing the PVC curtain behind her. Sid was still brain-dead under the carefully spread quilt.
Speed-reading had never been a problem for Joy, but the diary was unwilling to yield the secrets she was after. It was not even written in code, the answer she was searching for almost desperately, was simply not there. Yes, Sid had certainly written about Joy never coming back and missing Joy painfully. A physical craving, an unbearable need, the screaming inside her head. The vampire looked at the chronological scattering of feelings. The dates seemed to be running further and further apart from one page to the next. And there, the writer was mentioning, in a quick, almost unimportant note, working on a brand new novel. About vampires…… She looked up at the bookshelves and saw the thick volume staring at her, daring her to slide it out of its c
omfy niche. “The Private Life of A Vampire”……. Joy smiled at the achievement.
Refocusing her attention on the diary, she noticed the increasing sobriety and dryness of the daily style. Like life leaking out, something inside the chronicler slowly and irreversibly dying. Then, in capital fonts, the name of a woman, a thick arrow linking the name to the words “music” and “piano”. Joy recognized the name. She had seen the movie and enjoyed the music. She had even felt secret pride when reading Sid’s name in the credits.
But the diary was still not unlocking the secret of Sid’s cruelty. This did not make sense to Joy. She would have expected to see mentions of Sid’s friends, critical notes on books and movies, appreciative rants on music gigs. She would have expected Sid to entrust her pain and emotional devastation to her private diary, to write about daily activities and experiments. Except that maybe, there was a secret paranoia at the very core of Sid’s being, so secret that Joy would have never noticed, because after all, Joy had been mostly interested in Sid’s menstrual blood and in sex with Sid, or so she had wanted to believe. Thus Joy wouldn’t have known it even if she had read it. It would have been like poetry, too subtle and too deep.
Her speed-reading took her to the last lines, written three months ago, and the following spread of blankness. Three months without writing, without jotting down her daily thoughts? Was she missing something? Was something missing in the diary? She scanned in between pages, but they seem to be each there, no leftover of a leaf torn out……. Intriguing. She sensed the rapid decline of the sun behind the high blocks towering over Sid’s building. As swiftly as previously, she rejoined the bedroom and deposited the notebook back into the desk drawer. Just in time for the first flutter of Sid’s retinas, the first stirring of Sid’s lust…….
* * * * * * *
It was an odd angle and Joy didn’t know what to think. Her face showing no expression, she stared at the younger vampire who was busy licking blood off her own lips, looking like the cat with the proverbial cream. It was an odd angle and Joy didn’t need to look at it. It had been clean, neat, swift. Sid was good, very good, at killing. The half-naked body of the young fetish aficionada was smeared with blood, fear spilling out of her still open eyes. Her girlfriend didn’t look better. Joy had to kill her to shut her up, with Sid’s cold laughter ringing in her ears. She had half eaten the girlfriend’s throat within one precise bite. The blood was still flowing out of the wide wound. An odd angle of the neck, too. The girlfriend who liked pain, who got a kick out of being chained to a wall. Her naked body was now starting to wear a red and viscous blood that Joy was not feeling hungry enough to drink. She stared at Sid, the monster she had made……. The monster was now entertaining herself with clawing at the dead, lean body, breaking bones with a smile and cupping flesh with her hands to suck the nutritious blood out of it. The light spread around by torches gave an eerie medieval look to the scene. They were in a dungeon. One of these toy-rooms, playgrounds, where people would pay to go to, to enjoy humiliating or enjoy being humiliated, to enjoy giving pain or enjoy receiving pain. Joy’s existence suddenly felt senseless. She was a vampire, an old vampire, she had killed countless times, countless preys, more concerned about spilling blood on her neat clothes than for the lives she was destroying. What was happening to her?
True, the living Sid had never expressed real concern about Joy’s feeding habits. Sure, she had made sure that the vampire would never feed on the writer’s friends. Had she been lacking some sort of moral fibre without Joy noticing it? After all, Joy wouldn’t have cared less, back then……. So, since when did she care?
“Problem, Darling?”
The irony in Sid’s tone didn’t escape Joy. She heard the provocation, the challenge, and tried not to rise to the bait. She soberly enquired:
“How do you clean up?”
“But, Joy, you’re my teacher. You’re supposed to show me……. You haven’t touched the other one. Something wrong with her blood?”
Sid was toying, and Joy hated being toyed with. Did Sid want a fight? Would she give Sid a fight…….
“I think I got a bit carried away…….” Sid mused, her eyes wandering over the mangled body of her food.
Joy looked away, too undead to sigh.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Time is of the essence”, Death declared, and Life smiled. This was a meaningless quote and a call for action altogether. It was time for Death to reclaim Sid’s soul and heart, and for Life to consider Joy’s…….
* * * * * * *
Joy was standing in the darkening front room, reading “The Private Life of A Vampire”, secure in her powers, safe in the dying day. She was actually quite fascinated by Sid’s protein theory and her detailed study of the various blood-drinking animals.
She froze in her reading when she suddenly felt fingers drifting through her long hair. As fast as lightning, she swivelled around, ready to strike. Only to find her right arm stopped by the steely hand of ……. Sid……. Sid? There was cruel amusement shining in the fledgling’s brown eyes. Sid……. How in hell was it possible? She had not felt the writer’s consciousness stir, she had not heard a sound, not even sensed the air move around her……. She remembered that the writer, when a living being, didn’t know fear. Maybe, just maybe, it was time to run away from this monster she had created, who was so incredibly powerful for a fledgling. But Joy felt responsible.
She read hunger and lust in the cold eyes. She suddenly missed the human being she had known and left. She painfully missed the human being she had grown to love so much that she had run away in fear. Now was too late for regrets. The tide was rising again with no promise for tomorrow. Who knew what was about to wash up on the shore this time…….
* * * * * * *
They had fed, quickly, soberly, with no cruel antics from Sid. They were on their way to a gig. Their favourite band, one they had not seen for a while ─Joy being abroad, Sid being adrift─, were playing a good venue in the centre of London, one with a good acoustic and a good sound, one where they could be filmed for a DVD. Second Look were going to be at their best and worst behaviour. They needed the month of September to be special.
Joy and Sid remembered……. But Sid didn’t care for the memories anymore. And Joy, Joy wasn’t sure of anything anymore. At least, they had both fed satisfyingly, hopeful hint for an easy night.
Definitely unobtrusive, almost invisible, Death and Life were standing by, watching the crowd of enthusiastic punters, listening to their cries of delight and their shouts of impatience. Canned music was ravishing everyone’s ears. “Come to my window, Crawl inside, wait by the light of the moon, Come to my window, I’ll be home soon……” Melissa Etheridge was crooning away.
Blue-haired Frank smiled at gothic Tracee and suggested a drink. They moved on through the crowd, inconsequentially chatting and joking about alcohol. The goth hadn’t seen her friend Sid for months and hadn’t really noticed.
* * * * * * *
Terry Harley and Dawn Ferndale walked on stage like the world was their private oyster; the venue certainly was. The audience erupted with enthusiasm, shouting their names.
“Have you ever thought about feeding on them?” Sid quietly enquired.
“Mmmh. More than once. But, I liked the audience better…….” Joy mused.
Sid laughed silently, sending odd ripples down Joy’s spine. She threw a quick look at her companion and noticed no threat on the presently quiet features. The soaring voice of Terri Harley distracted her.
“Alright! Let’s rock!” Music rose and the crowd quieted down. The keyboard unleashed wild music and the voice roared. Joy started to relax. She had not noticed how tensed she felt. Sid seemed already lost in the music. There was definite hope for an easy night. Hang on. What was that? Joy could sense a presence, a great power……. Sid, young and arrogant, had not noticed. Joy’s senses scanned the crowd, her eyes slowly sweeping the enthralled audience. And there, she saw them, and almost gasped with sur
prise. Death and Life were there, too?! The two most powerful entities she could imagine were there……. Why on Earth, why in hell, what was their purpose……. Sid was still seemingly lost in the music…….
“Ah…….,” Sid sighed mockingly. “She is still good, oh yes, but she’s lost her spontaneity. What a pity.”
“What?”
“I’m referring to the singer. It’s the same moves. The same facial features. All the way through. She hasn’t changed an iota…….”
Joy stared back at the stage where the band was dealing the last notes of their first number to thunderous applause. Then she stared at Death and Life again. To her great surprise, Life smiled at her.
“What’s up?” Sid enquired, mildly interested in her companion’s reason to feel startled. She looked over and looked back at Joy. Suddenly, her attention shifted again. Joy felt the hunger rise in Sid. She quickly looked around and saw the potential food. The black hair of a goth woman, the blue hair of a free-lance reporter. Joy shrugged.
“They’re your friends.”
“But they look so delicious…….”
Sid licked her lips with a salivating tongue, her canines sharpening slowly, fire almost spilling out of her eyes.
“Courtesy, Sid. Besides, they’re your friends.”
“I am a vampire, they are food…….” She was already passing the bemused Joy, cruelly joking: “I could at least say hi to my friends! It has been a long time!”
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