“This place likes voids, everywhere,” Nico exclaimed as she jumped out. Her vampire’s vision discerned nothing within the pitch-darkness. She stepped with hesitance, unsure where the moving walkway lay. When she glanced back at her vehicle companions, the naked man was politely helping the Victorian woman out by the hand. Right when Nico was about to ask what they planned to do, she felt her body—not the floor—move, and the force swept her into the darkness.
I’m a vampire, I’m a vampire, Nico chanted as she felt air rush past. And I can’t see anything in this dark.
Before she could give in to panic, her body came to a stop. Nico stood within a soft blue spotlight before a service window with a mounted lens on the counter. The person who sat within was plump, and Nico could not tell if the person was a woman or a man. Nico decided to call the person “Terry”.
“I had an astronomy class,” Nico said. “The Pleiades can’t have liveable planets; it’s too new.”
Terry looked at her.
“And it’s bright. Super bright, with young stars. I should be burnt up,” Nico said.
“Your bio-tag, please,” Terry said.
Nico put her hand beneath the lens. A beam shone and the back of her hand tickled. Terry stared down at something out of Nico’s view.
“Age at death?” Terry said.
“Eighteen,” Nico answered.
“Age as vampire?”
“From my death? Fifteen.”
“Female, male, third, none, changing, changed?” Terry said.
“Changing?” Nico said, and Terry pressed something. “No! Girl! Female!” Terry pressed something again, and Nico displayed the back of her left hand. “Don’t my bio-dats already say I’m female?”
“Can you identify your bear, please?” Terry asked instead.
“His name is Mr Bear.”
“Is Mr Bear your totem animal, spirit guide, or avatar?”
“Mr Bear is me,” Nico insisted.
“He is a variant of you?”
“No, we’re the same.”
“Mr Bear is not separate from you?”
“No, he’s me.” Nico could not explain it, but the conviction resounded in her.
“Mr Bear is your conjoined twin,” Terry said, and pressed something.
“Okay, fine,” Nico said.
“Have you engaged in criminal activity?” Terry asked.
“No. Well, when I first rose, yes. I had to steal and stuff, but then I figure out how not to.”
“Will you engage in criminal activity?”
“No. I like to keep quiet,” Nico said in earnest.
“Have you made another like you?”
Nico stilled. “No, never,” she said, her tone hollow.
“Your tag again, please.”
Nico put her hand beneath the lens again, its beam touching her once more.
“Next,” Terry said, and the darkness snatched Nico again.
Her body paused almost immediately before another lit window. Either she was moving or her environment was spinning, a roulette wheel stopping windows before her. The pale person behind the window looked male and was bald and gaunt, with staring eyes, pointed ears, and pronounced fangs. Nico refrained from asking if the man was Count Ulock and put her hand beneath the lens.
“What is your plan of employment?” Ulock said. His pronunciations bore a lisp.
“I—I’m a student,” Nico said. “Um...for the past fifteen years. Scholarships. I’ve an ancient history degree but now I’m studying computer science.”
“Your plan of employment?” he repeated, his stare unblinking.
“Oh. I can work in museums, libraries, and historical sites. Uh, music stores, video stores, bookstores, bakeries, morgues. I was working nightshift, hotel front desk, before I got...here.”
“Any plans to steal, subjugate, murder, terrorise, torture, seize power, or cause mayhem?” he said.
Nico looked at him, aghast. “No.”
“Any history in practicing the aforementioned?” he said, his tiny pupils pinning her. Nico could not look away.
“Practice? No, I like to keep—” Quiet, she wanted to say. She saw the blank spot inside her mind. She blinked.
“Any plans to make another like yourself?” he asked.
“No.” Nico’s tone was cold. “Never.”
Ulock stared. “And Mr Bear is you.”
“Yes, he is.”
He pointed at the lens with a clawed finger, and Nico put her hand beneath again.
“Next,” he said.
***
When Nico had spent a semester at St Mary’s University in Twickenham, she’d met a young Persian artist. He had married a Canadian girl for citizenship and complained to Nico about the immigration process.
“They ask many questions,” he said, “and very personal.”
Nico had to falsify papers at times, and she had kept her original name because she’d never been officially declared dead. However, she’d never been scrutinised as her true self, and the repeated questions were designed to catch her at a lie.
She expected to be spinning in the dark forever, going from window to window and answering questions until they deported her to an asteroid for unsuitable vampires. Then she landed in a small room.
Nico looked around, the space no bigger than a walk-in closet. It glowed soft red—which she liked—and in the centre stood a solid pedestal. Sabella Peck shown on the black pedestal from the chest up, dressed like Nico’s magazine clipping. She smiled at nothing in particular, and her projection flickered. Nico’s throat caught.
That’s not fair.
She loved that picture of Sabella; cherished it. Nico knew a boy who watched Johnny Carson every night, pretending the host was his father. Nico had looked at Sabella in magazines and done the same.
I wish you’d been my maker.
Nico stepped to the pedestal and hugged Bear.
The Sabella-hologram smiled. “Do you like being a vampire?” Her voice was Peck’s from her movies.
Nico paused. She didn’t know what to say; after fifteen years, she’d accepted it. She’d made it work. The hologram seemed to take her silence as an answer.
“You like to keep quiet,” the hologram said, smiling.
“Yes,” Nico said, “so I can have a future.”
“Do you kill to eat?”
“No.” Nico shook her head. “I buy blood units; from the black market.”
“Do you seduce to eat?”
What blood existed in Nico went to her cheeks. “Okay, yes. When it’s someone’s time of month? Then yes. You’d be surprised how many women are okay with that. But they tend to be older...and married. I don’t kill them! Just, um.” And I need to shut up, right now.
The hologram smiled distantly, as if she reacted to a Nico standing far away, and not near.
“Have you murdered?” she said.
Nico dropped her head. “Yes.”
“How many times have you murdered?”
“Once,” she said quietly. “No, two other times. Those were in self-defence.”
“Please describe,” the hologram said.
“The last was my...the vampire who made me. Two years before that, two girls rose in the morgue I worked at. So I had to kill them.”
“How did you kill your maker?”
Nico looked at the hologram. She’d never told anyone. Vampires didn’t kill their makers; it was taboo.
“I stalked him,” she said.
“How long did you take before you killed him?”
“Four years,” Nico whispered.
“Are you sadistic?” The hologram asked, as if she were enquiring if Nico liked chocolate.
“No. Not even sexually.” Nico looked down at Bear’s leather harness, realising how it made her look. “I took so long because I didn’t know how. He was so hard to kill.”
“Do you like to murder?”
“No,” she said softly. “That’s how I died.”
The hologram c
ocked her head as if listening to more.
“Welcome to Darqueworld,” the hologram said, and Nico stared into Sabella-hologram’s warm, distant gaze.
The hologram flickered out of sight.
“Bye,” Nico whispered, looking at the empty pedestal. A pad device the same as Tane had used lay on the surface. It bore a logo sticker: Your Id®, by Donut.
“Please pick up the Id issued to you,” the narrating voice from the van ride announced. Nico glanced around in surprise, then grabbed the device. It was longer than her passport. She stuffed it in the harness’s storage panel behind Bear. A hologram movie began to play above the pedestal, displaying map animations and spot footage that Nico assumed was of Darqueworld: cities, oceans, eerie landscapes with great creatures roaming, an underwater city, and space stations.
“Darqueworld and its farther worlds are the domains of the gods who found them. Though you are an Other-being, you may not indulge in inflicting death, destruction, combative challenges, or acts of physical superiority on humans, intragalactic species, and lower beings. Darqueworld maintains a balanced biosphere and psychosphere dedicated to sacred commonality for all. Please present your biometric tag and acknowledge that you accept and understand.”
“I do,” Nico said, raising her hand, and a flash blinded her.
“Please retrieve your information packet.” A folder with pamphlets sat on the pedestal. Nico picked it up, glad to see something as familiar as paper. The holo movie changed to depict humanoids and creatures: werewolves, leopard people, tree-people, mermaids, cyborgs, flying people, griffins, walking statues, and robots with brains.
“Ew,” Nico uttered.
“However, Darqueworld recognises that preternatural beings may follow societal and cultural traditions particular to their kin, in matters of conflict and formal challenges. Conflict resolved to cultural rules between Other-beings, or Other-beings with their own kin, are acceptable. When such conflict harms law-abiding citizens and disturbs societal peace, the Makepeace restores order.”
Nico stared at the latest projection and thought the weaponised and sleekly armoured Makepeace humanoid with his visor and helm looked like something from the 2000 AD comic book—except more sensual.
Do they all look that hot?
“The Makepeace are incorruptible artificial public servants empowered to eliminate Other-beings without the obligation to apprehend, judicially process, and incarcerate. The Makepeace may issue admonitions for your minor offences. If a Makepeace decision is in question, your kin, spouse, maker, guardian, friends, or champion may petition your death. Please acknowledge that you accept and understand.”
“Uh, yes,” Nico said, raising her hand, and another flash blinded her.
“You may appeal to a Makepeace if you find yourself in need of assistance. Your local Makepeace is your protector as well as your eliminator.”
Thanks a lot, Nico thought, her eyes wide. The projection ended, and she saw two cards on the pedestal.
“You are issued one credit chit for meals and expenses while seeking employment. If you need to extend such credit, contact your social worker via the business card provided.”
Nico quickly picked up the chit and the card. A hologram popped up from the business card, depicting a young bald man in glasses—her social worker: Specs Plonsky. As she put the cards away in her security wallet, the pedestal top visually shifted, doubling and then dividing. Something materialised within the spatial shift. While she had been distracted by the holographic projections, the top of the pedestal had been retrieving items. Nico stared.
Is that teleportation? When she sucked air against the roof of her mouth, she tasted tangible energy in the air, vibrating. She didn’t want to stick her hand in the shifting space in case her hand split into two as well. The divided pedestal top became one object again, bearing a bag with a logo: Welcome to Again NewYork.
“Darqueworld measures time by the twelve cycle lunar calendar with a seven day week, each planetary rotation being twenty-four hours. You will find Darqueworld’s gravity, atmosphere, oceans, and fresh water are similar to Old Earth’s. Your evaluation for citizenship has commenced. Please accept this complimentary carry bag, personal hygiene kit, and snack blood packet to begin your stay. And remember.”
Nico threw her hand up, overwhelmed by a series of flashes. She covered Bear’s eyes.
“You.” FLASH
“Are.” FLASH
“Needed.” FLASH
“For what.” FLASH
“You do.” FLASH
“Best.” FLASH
“Welcome to Again NewYork, and have a nice day.”
A door slid open at the end of the room. The room darkened, no longer glowing red. Dazed and partially blinded, Nico picked up her bag and turned for the door. She heard many footsteps.
Please don’t be Orwellian, please don’t be Orwellian.
Nico exited.
She stepped into a large corridor where beings swiftly walked, carrying Welcome to Again NewYork bags. Corridors to her left and right fed into the one she stood in, and large blue arrows glowed in the floor, pointing away from her. When she glanced behind, only a wall met her scrutiny. Nico looked at the main corridor everyone departed down and saw two familiar icons on lit cube signs. One indicated: Ladies.
A lizard woman in a Beckensdale Heritage trench coat exited from the bathroom, carrying a suitcase handcuffed to her wrist. Her spiky head crest flared when she spotted Nico looking at her. She departed with the rest moving down the main corridor.
Everyone’s a creature, and I’m a creature. On an alien planet.
Perhaps if she’d known she was coming to Darqueworld, she’d be more in awe or even giddy. Instead, she felt the need to retreat. She stuffed her folder into her bag and hurried to the ladies room.
Few females were within; she briefly wondered where thirds, nones, and changed did their business. Then she saw herself in the sinks’ mirrors.
Nico drew her switchblade.
"Hey,” a large woman with three eyes said as she pushed past Nico. “Be careful with that.”
“Sorry,” Nico uttered. Her reflections held knives too, and when Nico moved to close her blade, her hands trembling, they did as well.
Those are me. Me. Not other-me’s coming to get me.
She then looked at herself, a face she’d not seen in fifteen years, and stepped for the sinks.
Her reflections did nothing more, so she stopped before an Other-Nico and stared. A very pale girl with wavy, shoulder-length black hair stared back, her small brows knit. Nico hadn’t noticed before her death that she’d a cute mouth, pink and kissable. Her straight nose wasn’t as big as she’d remembered. Had she always looked that lost when alive? She could see why women liked inviting her in. But she wondered about the gaze in her grey eyes; big, wide, yet horrified.
I need a hairbrush.
Mr Bear looked a little askew. She adjusted him.
A vampire woman stood to the side in the mirror’s reflection. She seemed to stare with as much fascination at Nico as Nico did staring at herself.
I don’t think she has a hairbrush. Not only did the other vampire look dishevelled, but she also carried her own Welcome to Again NewYork bag.
And how did Nico know the other woman was a vampire? The female lacked breath, and she bore the pallor of cold flesh, one that exuded the pristine, clear scent of death, suspended. Vampires were not warm, pulsing, and edible, and Nico had never been interested in sex with them.
Her tall, dark-haired admirer wore a black trimmed, silk suit, with narrow lapels and a skirt with a cut like nothing Nico knew to be in fashion, except what might be in haute couture magazines. Despite looking travel-rumpled, the vampire was sharp and beautiful from her finely shaped eyebrows and defined cheekbones to her manicured nails, painted a smoke-grey. Her nail polish matched her loosened, narrow tie. Nico had never seen that shade used in nail colours.
She has to be from an era ahead of me—two eras. And
the woman’s blood was older than Nico’s, even older than her maker. Nico could almost smell it. The woman continued to stare, her keen, blue-eyed gaze touched with amazement. Nico turned to look at her.
“Word of advice?” the woman said. “Don’t ever show them you can’t make it here. Darqueworld is it.”
“Do I know you?” Nico said cautiously. Weird blank spot in her head or no, she’d remember a woman wearing the sophisticated hyacinth and jasmine fragrance of Chasse Geraud Soeurs. It nearly masked the scent of undead perfection. Almost.
The woman nodded towards Bear. “No. Even back then we wouldn’t have crossed paths. But how many vampire girls carried a bear?”
Nico put her hand over Bear.
“That’s quite an escape plan for your time period, coming all the way here,” the woman added, smiling. Her teeth were perfect and white.
“Escape from what?” Nico said, and the woman frowned, as if perplexed by Nico’s response. Her jacket pocket chimed, and the woman raised a hand to touch it.
“Got to go. We’ll chat later.” She drew a flat, rigid translucent card, its surface wavering like a Fresnel lens. The woman tapped it and it flashed Nico in the face.
“Hey,” Nico said, but the woman was already walking out the exit, grinning back at her.
“Pervert,” Nico exclaimed.
***
Nico left the ladies room to join the rest of the newly processed down the mystery corridor. Though many appeared human, some who walked alongside weren’t bipedal, like the bare-breasted spider woman with six legs who wore a helm and carried a forked spear. A fox woman in full kimono and geta clogs hurried past with small fast steps, carrying her fox baby on her back. A ventriloquist’s dummy in grey suit and red bowtie strolled along.
Nico jumped, then walked swiftly to catch up with the fox woman, her still heart in her throat.
“Now I know why everyone thinks you can talk, Bear,” she whispered, and tried not to look behind her in case she caught the dummy’s interest.
Monster Stalker Page 2