Vampire Dancing
Page 25
Things have changed.
In this New World, all forms of automated travel is measured, efficient and virtually silent. There is no such thing as road rage. There is no such thing as rage. People move with purpose. No one has need to stop until they have reached their destination. This destination is normally a State allocated place of employment or education, or even one of the many dispensaries of nourishment, where earned calorie tokens can be redeemed. The streets are litter free and devoid of graffiti, and, thanks to the Work for Well-being program, there is no sickness or suffering. There is nothing to fear. All forms of violent and self-gratifying entertainment have been abolished. Barbaric acts such as rape, murder and property theft are nothing more than gray memories of darker times. All division – religious, territorial, etc. - has been replaced by unity. One World, united under One Mind, and governed by The State. The State is fundamental, tangible and stitches all division. It provides everything that could ever be deemed necessary for a sustained healthy and happy life.
The State transcends all.
An airborne drone swoops into view and hovers before her tight black, leather-clad figure. They've found her again. They always do. Even now, she can hear the sound of them hurrying up the stairs towards her - State police donned from head to toe in tactical armor. They'll stop at nothing to get what they want: Michael's parting gift to her, Verestanias, somehow transmitted through ingesting his blood.
She cocks an ear at the sound of the heavy-booted men flooding onto the rooftop. They fan out behind her and prime their assault weaponry.
A voice crackles from the powerful speaker built into the drone. It issues a stark warning: “Surrender yourself immediately or face the consequences.”
Amber turns to face the consequences. Her bright yellow eyes dart between each of the eleven men spread out before her. Her left hand hovers over the semi-automatic hand cannon strapped to her left thigh. She runs the tip of her tongue around the edge of her glossy black lips then jerks her right arm at the elbow. A formidable looking blade comes sliding out from the sleeve of her jacket. She grips the handle with a black gloved hand and cracks a twisted smile to reveal a devilish looking fang. Her elliptical pupils narrow.
“Okay, boys ... let's dance.”
EPILOGUE
1705; Kovolosia
It was an odd feeling, waiting and waiting, when you knew, deep in your heart, that the person you were waiting for wasn't going to arrive. It was getting late for anyone to be venturing outside, and growing chillier by the minute. He had paced back and forth so much that he worried the soles of his boots might wear thin. On the upside, the knot in his stomach was beginning to loosen (a side effect of not having been with a woman in some time - at least, not in a romantic way).
Much had changed in his life over these last few years. He had adapted according to his new condition, and had even started work here in town as a blacksmith. He enjoyed working outdoors, but sometimes the sun shone a little too brightly and he didn't get as much done as he would like. Fortunately, he had no competition in the immediate vicinity, so custom didn't go elsewhere on those slower days. For the time being, he had rented a room in the local inn. It was a little confined, but it was warm, and his landlords seemed like a nice older couple. Regarding his nocturnal activity, there was a wealth of animals to choose from in the nearby forest, and no one seemed to be too closely scrutinizing fauna drained of blood.
With all of that sorted, the inevitable question was: could he hold down a normal (or even relatively normal) relationship with a woman? He thought he could, and was at last willing to give it a try. He had worked hard to hold a regular meal in his belly again (and even appreciate the taste), and, although it wasn't enough to sustain him, the mere appearance of digesting it covered over a multitude of cracks.
Sadly, for whatever reason, the woman he had been coerced into meeting didn't appear to be arriving. Such a shame, as the village looked so picturesque under the cloak of night. He had envisaged sitting with her on the hilltop near the edge of town, gazing at the moon and stars. It would have been nice to hold her hand, feel her warmth and the softness of her skin - and perhaps deliver a kiss to her cheek? Possibly he was being a little eager and expecting too much, but he had heard such good things about her: a chaste woman with dazzling blue eyes and a beautiful smile living with her parents and brother just outside of town. And enthusiastic for male company.
Or perhaps not so enthusiastic.
Levagnion looked at the speckled white flowers in his hand. They were starting to wilt already. With a sigh, he dropped them into the stone well, turned up the collar of his coat and headed back towards the inn. Perhaps he would have another opportunity to meet this woman, Amara.
Or perhaps they were fated never to meet.
Only time would tell.