The City

by Rachael Byrd

  "Branded?"

  Melissa pulled up her right sleeve. A black scar in the shape of a star was burnt into the flesh of her shoulder and there were two small dots beneath the star. “The circles are for how well you've been trained. I've gone through a couple masters already, but neither of them were real Nest Leaders or anything. Not really that much for a house slave to take care of in a vampire's house. They all seem to want a whole bunch of slaves, but I'm not sure why."

  "How do they keep us from escaping?"

  "Mostly they just—oh—watch out!"

  Strong hands reached out from the other side of the bars and grasped Intrigue's shoulders, pulling her tight against the side of the cage. She gasped as she felt the hot scream of the branding iron against her bruised skin. Intrigue shrieked as her body burned, barely hearing the spatter of nervous laughter from the cages around her. The acrid odor of searing skin filled her nostrils. She choked back a sob.

  "Try not to think about it,” Melissa soothed. “It's a lot better here than it'd be if one of them bought you. This is as close to freedom as we'll ever come again. The Chaotics will never come for us. They're the myth in all this."

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  3

  "Vampires? Don't be silly. Of course they're not real, child.” A mother's response to a question asked by her curious daughter. She'd laughed it off and hadn't thought of it since. Her daughter was blind, after all, and there were more pressing matters to worry about than imaginary nightwalkers.

  "Vampires? It's nowhere near Halloween, son, why the sudden interest?"

  "Vampires? Great to read about, but they're not real."

  "Do you mean vampire bats or something? Closest thing I can think of is mosquitoes. Nasty little pests."

  Vampires? No. Not really. A game, a joke, something to talk about during sleepovers and on Halloween. Something fascinating only to a certain type of people: those who were fascinated by Ouija boards, black lipstick, and the like.

  Vampires? Something for the fiction section.

  The original diagnosis was restlessness. The people had just moved on. They left their homes in search of something better. They joined the hippies and abandoned their material possessions. They got on a plane and ran off to Colombia to be drug traffickers. The kids got tired of waiting to be allowed to leave; they left on their own during the night. The distraught parents turned to the police, who searched for answers but found none.

  The rumors that the kids brought home from school and church? Just rumors, just games. Vampires do not exist, ladies and gentlemen, and I will now prove it. Look at this mosquito. It can carry diseases, but it cannot turn you into a mosquito. Case closed.

  That body found with the punctures in its throat? Sure, their neighbor was totally insane. Must've stabbed them with a pencil or something. Where's the neighbor now? Gone! Of course, that must have been what happened.

  Don't worry. Don't think, don't wonder, don't pressure the edges of reality, and everything is going to be just fine. Absolutely, perfectly, unquestionably fine. We're not staying in at night because we're afraid of vampires; there are just an awful lot of muggers and drug addicts out at night. We don't stay out of the center of town because we're afraid of the vampires; that's just not a very nice neighborhood anymore. We haven't abandoned our houses and run because we're afraid of the vampires, we just felt like moving on. Who needs material possessions, anyway? Time to move on, time to get out. We're going on extended vacation a long way from here, and we're not coming back. No, no complaints, we're just tired of The City.

  Macabre? Yes, there are rumors about that little town. Touristy sort of place, you know? They closed all the tourist stuff down, though. Even the theme park. Most of the people are gone now, from what I understand. I guess those that stayed wanted to live more quietly. Nothing left there to visit. A couple churches, I guess, but they've even shut down all the stores. No, I don't know where they all work. No, I can't think of anywhere to work in town. No, I don't know of anyone who lives there and works elsewhere, but that's surely what they do, don't you think? Not much else that they could do, is there?

  The children bring home the most ridiculous rumors, though. Vampires, in that little town. Imagine. My child says that one of the other children has been telling them that there's some sort of underground factory in Macabre where the vampires keep the people in cages and then pull their blood out with big machines. No, of course I don't think anything like that. That's ridiculous! If there were vampires, we'd notice.

  A few months later, the gossip had changed considerably. The number of stony skeptics had dramatically decreased. Instead of ‘of course not', one was more likely to hear ‘I don't think so', or ‘maybe'. As in, ‘Maybe my child was bitten by a vampire, but I don't think so. He just ran away. Police? Oh, that's not necessary. He'll come back. I'm sure.'

  This was easier than either belief or blatant disbelief. For a while, at least, The City continued life quietly, if a bit nervously. Shades were drawn; people rarely left their homes after dark, and never alone. Macabre became a forbidden subject. As time progressed and more of The City fell into shadow, rumors became more prominent, although they were rarely spoken above a whisper anymore. One never knew who might be listening.

  No one seemed to come into The City anymore, just as no-one left intending to go anywhere near Macabre. It was a town falling under the shadow. More people became unemployed. It didn't matter; they were afraid to leave their houses. There were more unexplained suicides in those few months than there had been in the last few decades combined. And it was getting worse.

  Families would awaken to find their pets slaughtered on their front porches or in the yards, their throats torn open occasionally, but mostly there were just the two puncture marks. The owners would drive a stake through the animal's heart, cut its head off, fill its mouth with garlic, and place the animal in a mirror-lined coffin which they would throw into running water. This practice was not questioned. It was something they did ‘just in case’ or ‘as a precaution'.

  The deeper The City fell into shadow, the darker the rumors became. No-one questioned the existence of the human leeches anymore. Certain parts of town were forbidden; they were safe havens for the parasites.

  Fight back? Of course not. We'd all be killed. Do they outnumber us yet? Who knows; who cares? They will soon enough. Why don't you let your children play outside? There's a Den down the street. The Nest Leader is always there. It's too dangerous. Why don't you let your children go to school? There are recruiters that could catch them. Isn't that illegal? Who cares?

  They still paid their taxes. Some still went on vacations and came back. They still ate in the restaurants and filled their gas tanks at the local gas stations. The teachers taught in spite of the diminishing number of children. Math classes were all too frequently replaced by classes over the history of the vampire and precautions against bites. The mall was still frequented by teens who still didn't want to give in to the fear sweeping The City. The human inhabitants did everything that they could to preserve a semblance of a normal life. They displayed the human spirit in every action; they weren't willing to give in to anything that would so dramatically change their lives. Ignore it and it'll go away. Just don't look too closely, and you'll be fine. We can beat this, ladies and gents; in the history of our race, nothing has ever come close to beating us. Carry stakes or silver knives to keep the robbers away. Wear garlic cloves and crosses, just in case.

  It got worse. The City went steadily downhill, and there was no visible end to their troubles. What would happen when the problem began to really get out of control? They could only survive for so long as they were now, in a sort of uneasy equilibrium, but this would not last long.

  No one was really quite sure from where the trouble had originated. The rumors concerning this were greatly varied, and it was difficult to discern whether people really believed that the rumors were true. A belief popular among the children, though, featured
a ‘hospital’ run by young vampires. The patients had been suffering people taken from the streets under the promise that they would be made well. The patients had gotten over their previous ailments and had come away with nothing worse than a chronic addiction to a sweet, red medicine that ran in the veins of the people of The City.

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  4

  "Yeah, I guess,” Intrigue sighed as the pain began to ebb.

  The bell over the door chimed and Intrigue turned to peer out from between the bars. The man that had entered the Shop was taller than Intrigue, but only by a little—maybe six foot even—and slender. His short hair was light brown, streaked with a brighter, blonder brown.

  It was his eyes, though, that took her by surprise. They were glimmering, live-wire blue ... no, they were deep, oceanic turquoise ... no...

  They were changing color constantly. Intrigue blinked, pushed back her hair, and focused on his eyes. They were definitely changing colors at a slow, easy speed, and the only constant was the underlying blue tone. His fangs were short and well curved, beautifully white. They did not protrude over his bottom lip. His skin was lightly colored without being pale. A shiver ran along Intrigue's spine.

  The vampire was talking to a short, fattish vamp. He smiled, his fangs flashing, and Intrigue couldn't take her eyes away. The colors in his eyes kept changing ... always, always changing.

  He turned and pointed at the window display. The shifting colors of his brilliant blue-purple-green eyes locked on hers and his smile widened. She felt a tinge of fear and heat flushed her cheeks. Melissa brushed Intrigue's arm as she moved to stand next to her.

  "It's Angel ... I think it is anyway...” Melissa whispered. “It can't be anyone else; just look at his eyes!"

  "Angel?"

  "A Nest Leader ... the Nest Leader. He leads the most well-known Nest in The City.” Melissa dropped her voice. “He supposedly keeps more slaves than anyone else in The City. They're well-fed, supposedly, and kept clean and well-clothed.” Melissa leaned stepped back from the bars and squared her shoulders, keeping her voice low. “If you have one prayer left, it should be for him to rescue you."

  Intrigue looked back at this newcomer, this ‘Angel'. She looked at him and believed everything that Melissa had said; how could it not be true? His eyes held her petrified. He was walking toward them, still talking to the Shop clerk. Intrigue was dimly aware of the shouts coming from the other cages; it seemed that every pair of eyes in the Shop was trained on Angel. As Angel and the Shop man came closer, she began to pick up brief snatches of their conversation.

  "Newly caught ... Aymir ... transporters ... bruises ... heal quickly ... about seventeen and twenty ... price.... pint each."

  "I'll take a look at them both."

  Intrigue heard Angel's last statement clearly. Relief and dread washed through her, intermixed and bittersweet.

  "The transporters said Aymir mentioned that that one ... the bruised one with the reddish hair ... she's a wild one. The transporters had to all but beat her unconscious just to get the cuffs on her."

  Yeah right, she thought. Make two attempts to run and they call you a ‘wild one'. “All the better. Phoenyx will love her. She's wanted a pet. Hey there, girl...” Angel glanced back at the Shop keeper. “What'd you say that the recruiter named her?"

  "Aymir called her Intrigue."

  "Right. So, Intrigue. Are you going to cause me problems?"

  Intrigue's eyes widened. “I want out of here,” she said slowly, her eyes fixed on the curve of his teeth. “I'll wash dishes or laundry or windows or whatever house slaves do."

  "That about sums it up. Dishes, laundry, walls, windows, floors, ceiling. Pour the glasses at meal time. Just basically take care of things and we'll keep you in good shape."

  Angel reached in through the bars and took her face in his hands. His skin was soft and dry against her cheek. She looked into his soft violet eyes, entranced, and he shoved two fingers between her lips and pried her mouth open. “Vamp or human?” he asked, gazing at her teeth. “Kind of hard to tell.” He slid his fingers out of her mouth and wiped them absently on his jeans.

  "Aymir said one of them bit me.” Why would he care if her blood had been breached? She could still feel the ghosts of his touch against her skin.

  "Doesn't look like they took much blood. You're still more human than vamp, if I had to make a guess.” Angel withdrew his hand from the cage. “We're a very large Nest, all considered, and I think you'll enjoy living with us. Does that all sound all right with you?"

  Would he even care if I said no?

  "Yes, sir."

  The barred door swung open and the Shop keeper grabbed her arm and dragged her forward. The vampire first tied her wrists, then loosely bound her ankles and shoved her into a wooden crate. He slammed and latched the door behind her and dropped the crate to the floor. Intrigue cried out as the force of the impact jarred her bruised body against the side of the crate.

  "Be gentle with her,” Angel snapped.

  The Shop clerk laughed softly. “If I must."

  There was a pause. “Hurry up and package ... what did you call her? Melissa? Put her in her crate and get them both loaded up onto the wagon."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Really, no need to put me in a crate, sir,” said Melissa's voice.

  "Of course there is, Melissa. If they put you in a crate, I get to keep the crate. Very useful things.” There was a thump as another crate door was closed.

  A moment later, Intrigue heard the Shop clerk grunt softly as he picked up her crate. She could see nothing and she slowly drifted back into dreams of escape.

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  5

  "Intrigue? Come on, girl, time to wake up. You've got a lot to learn now."

  Intrigue shook her head slowly, trying to allow herself to fall back into the deep sleep from which she had been roused. It was a nice dream. She had escaped, and freedom was absolutely divine. Looking back now, she could not see how she had taken her liberty for granted. Quiet regret settled over her.

  A gentle hand closed around her shoulder and tugged her forward. The last few gossamer strands of dream melted and she fell reluctantly back into the vampires’ world. Angel knelt in front of her crate, his eyes dark violet. She smiled weakly. He'd been in her dream; she'd seen him as he had been in life. His skin had been tanned and his teeth had been short and fiercely white. His eyes and smile had been the same.

  Intrigue crawled forward. A sharp pain bit into her hand. Teeth clenched against the pain, she lifted her hand and ripped out the long wooden splinter that had lodged in her palm. Blood dribbled merrily from the wound to the bottom of the crate.

  "Intrigue...” someone choked.

  She looked up.

  Angel trembled on his knees in front of her, his eyes harsh and vivid green. Intrigue bit her tongue and hid her hand from sight. His lips pulled back, clearly displaying his fangs, and she knew what was coming.

  "No,” she whispered.

  He reached back into her crate and snatched her shoulders, pulling her forward. She scrabbled desperately back away from him, but there was no safety to be found in the splintery wooden crate. She could see Melissa's crate sitting next to hers, still unopened. Melissa's clear blue eyes peered out at her through a crack.

  Angel's strong hands gripped her shoulders and held her roughly against him. The odors of fear and blood mingled around them. He held her eyes with his and tilted back her chin.

  The pain in her throat was thin and fragile at first. She could feel the needles pressing into a vein and the pain began to throb. The feel of the blood pulsing out into Angel's mouth was a thoroughly unique sensation; she felt as though she was simultaneously dying and coming back to life. Her throat throbbed and burned as Angel tore the life from her veins.

  At last she stood swaying in Angel's arms, her veins dry and her head throbbing. The surrounding scene was blurred by a thick red haze. She coughed weakly
and a young girl hurried forward. The slave handed Angel a plastic pouch filled with a deep purple liquid. He pierced the top of this slightly with one fang and blood dribbled out. Angel pressed the pouch against Intrigue's lips, and she could not help but drink the rich red wine as it poured into her mouth. As the red haze cleared, she focused on the words written on the front of the plastic pouch:

  Pork Blood

  Packaged by Distributor # 13; H

  Not intended for human consumption

  Sick humor twisted her gut. As if any human would be using pork blood pouches as anything other than currency for trade with the vampires.

  "You need more?” Angel gently brushed his fingertips across her arm.

  "Thank you."

  "No problem."

  Angel nodded to the girl who had handed him the pouch of pork blood, and she dutifully handed him another. He in turn handed the pouch to Intrigue. She stared down at it, uneasy.

  Human, Type AB+

  Packaged by Distributor #4; V

  The Factory, Macabre

  Not intended for human consumption.

  There was nothing funny about the label on this pouch and she suddenly wasn't hungry. This particular red gold had come from the veins of an actual human, probably one who was dead now, and she had no inclination to drink human blood. Her mind flickered to the Chaotics, the nearly-human vampires who made it their life's work to free humans from the control of the vampires. Hadn't Aymir (or maybe Melissa?) said that the Chaotics couldn't drink human blood? Did that perhaps mean that she was destined to join them? She shook her head weakly, unaware that she was doing so. Such aspirations of grandeur and noble cause were far beyond her. Blood was blood; she'd need it now.

  "No?” Angel's eyes narrowed and he retrieved the pouch from her hands. “Is something wrong?"

  "No, Angel ... I just feel a little sick."

  Intrigue thought that she saw the human slave behind Angel smiling, but when she looked up, the girl was looking pointedly away.