Symbiosis: A Vampire Psycho-Thriller

by Louise Atkins

  Meeting Simon at the restaurant had been a good idea on her part. Having spent much of Friday evening pondering why she’d agreed to the date, what she did know was that she didn’t want to let Simon, let anyone for that matter, totally into her life.

  She smoothed down the black dress, curled a few tendrils of hair around her fingers once more. Perhaps she had made too much effort, but Emily had to admit, she felt good. Confident. The fishnets, the high heels, the dress that had been in her wardrobe for ages. Impulse buys now with an occasion to finally give them a purpose.

  Simon had said that the restaurant was rather exclusive. Had hinted on the phone about having used his connections to get them in at such short notice. Her freshly glossed lips curved into a smile. Simon with connections? Who was he trying to fool?

  She could see the pulsating glow of the Entertainment District behind her. Could still hear the dull thud of clubs open all day and all night. Playground for the whole of society.

  Following Simon’s directions she’d turned down two or three side streets and now she stood here. The street was narrow, buildings that were centuries old oversaw her steps. Like their office building, these had once been homes.

  The houses seemed to have impossible dimensions, seemed wider at the bottom than at the top, seemed to lean forward so close as to join together to form a roof over her head, to tunnel her in, and yet it was not oppressive. The buildings had a solidity, a permanence, an ability to remain standing long after their occupiers had ceased to be remembered by anyone living.

  She could feel a cloak of dark time wrap itself around her. This was another world.

  Emily halted. Blew out a sigh made visible by the frosty night air. What was she doing? This was Simon. Not quite her boss, but certainly more senior and a good ten years older than her. How was this going to turn out?

  She gazed up at the sparkle of stars dimly glowing in the gap between the buildings that surrounded her. There had been times, she’d been told, in the past that pollution had meant that city life was never lit by starlight. The trams were the only way to travel nowadays – no one was allowed their own transport and the few cars for hire were only affordable by the established rich, so now the stars threw their age old light on all. The only pollution here was light pollution. And here, where she stood now, even that was minimal.

  ‘Emily,’ Simon appeared through a gap in between two of the buildings. The time ripple closed, back to the here and now.

  ‘Hi. Didn’t know if you’d be able to find it. I was pretty sure my directions were okay but these streets can be pretty disorientating,’ he said.

  Simon came up to her and kissed her cheek. His lips were warm. For a second her head was swirled by his aftershave. Citrus fruit but with a sense of spice. He never wore that in the office. Emily didn’t speak; Simon didn’t notice.

  ‘Still you got this far,’ he added.

  Emily still had not spoken. She couldn’t remember Simon ever having touched her before. He must have done – she was sure, but it had shocked her a little. He was obviously taking this date seriously.

  She followed him down a set of steps illuminated by a streetlight at the bottom. The light, although generated by electricity, had a buttery quality that reminded her of candlelight.

  Simon halted in front of a door, just to the left of the bottom of the steps.

  ‘Silvers’ Emily read from an understated plaque by the door. ‘Are you sure this is it?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Simon replied.

  Emily stood back and surveyed the building. It was no different to the houses in the road above the steps. The front door, which still bore the number 16, was painted fir tree green. There was a window to the left of the door and two more on the upper storey. The impression of light and occupancy was there, of vibrancy even, albeit muted with a high level of sophistication.

  ‘Allow me,’ Simon twisted the door handle, pushed the door and motioned Emily ahead of him.

  She might as well have stepped into the heart of a forest, for the walls continued the colour scheme of the front door. Just above head height were regularly spaced silver candle holders, their occupants willingly sharing what dim light was theirs to give.

  Emily stood aside to allow Simon to lead the way. She tried to force herself to relax into the evening. She was supposed to be here to enjoy herself after all. And, after all, it was only Simon.

  Yet somehow it wasn’t. This Simon was different, more like an actor portraying the man. This man was smoother, but not in a glib way. Now he was polished glass; in the office he was somewhat frosted.

  He really had made an effort. He’d even had his hair cut, she realised. She couldn’t decide if she felt thrilled or just sick. Again, the question that seemed to be her constant companion chipped in: Do you want this?

  The corridor led them into a square room. The décor was tasteful opulence, red turned darker and warmer by the candles. More silver, this time in filigree panels, took the place of pictures on the walls. Classical music blended with the muted tones of conversation, a ripple of polite laughter and the soft jangle of cutlery.

  They were shown to a table opposite the door. Emily risked a quick glance round. She felt out of place, an intruder in this land of sophisticated elegance. Too inexperienced to be comfortable here. Someone was going to see through her for sure.

  The waiter, clad in black, presented them with menus and then melted back into the shadows.

  Emily sought the protective barrier of the menu immediately. She studied it with the intensity of an art critic about to award prizes. How much easier it would have been to have stayed at home, or gone clubbing with her friends.

  ‘So, Emily, what do you fancy?’ Simon’s question caught her off balance and she realised that she hadn’t actually taken in anything that was in front of her.

  ‘I’m not sure. What are you going for?’

  ‘The fish, I think,’ he said.

  She read it.

  ‘Sounds good. It’s all a bit different to picking from GastroChoice.’

  Simon barely suppressed a laugh.

  ‘Do you know I’d never have put you as a GastroChoice shopper.’ He leaned back in his chair. Emily dropped her eyes for a second, then her brow creased into a defiant frown.

  ‘Everyone uses GastroChoice,’ she replied.

  ‘‘Good food, hygienically prepared – a gift from us to you?’’ Simon quoted the GastroChoice slogan, cynicism making his voice hard. ‘The Joint Government can recommend all they like – but it’s not for me.’

  ‘What on earth is there not to like? You can order whatever you need if you want to cook, or get something ready prepared. Perfect. And at least you know it’s all fresh and safe. No germs and dirt like in the pre-epidemic days. How can you object to that?’

  ‘Let’s say I don’t always trust everything that the government say is for our benefit.’

  His low chuckle provided an entry for the waiter. They both ordered; Emily finally selecting chicken and Simon sticking with the fish. He selected a bottle of white wine, the style of which Emily had never heard of. Definitely not a GastroChoice Favourite, she thought with a wry grin.

  Did Simon live his life distrusting everything? It was not something that had ever come across in the office. Their conversations on Friday afternoons had hardly even been exchanges of views. Rants on his part, polite inattention mostly on hers. She wondered if there were many others who felt the way Simon did. Certainly none of her friends ever questioned what was happening in the world. They all just enjoyed it.

  As the waiter presented the bottle of wine as if it were a revered museum object, Simon motioned her for to taste it. She could hardly refuse. Never really having been that interested in developing a knowledge of wines, Emily forced herself to match the waiter’s expectant smile. She took a mouthful and swallowed too quickly. Fighting the urge to splutter, she nodded up at the waiter, who refilled her glass and then Simon’s.

  ‘Nice wine?’ he as
ked, raising his glass. Emily raised hers and they chinked them together.

  ‘I don’t really know much about wine’ she confessed, returning her glass to the table and tracing her fingers around the base.

  ‘Oh?’

  Emily shrugged and said,

  ‘The places I normally go are strictly mainstream Entertainment District.’

  ‘Not a lot of fine wine available there, I agree,’ Simon laughed. ‘Then, I will take it as my job to educate your further.’ When Emily only replied with raised eye brows, he hastily added, ‘If you’ll let me that is.’

  Emily returned a smile,

  ‘As long as your tutoring doesn’t lead me onto the wrong side of the law, then I’m willing.’

  ‘Don’t worry, you can return to GastroChoice any time you like,’ Simon reassured her.

  *

  So, had it been a good evening? Emily questioned herself as the tram taking her home slid onwards.

  The restaurant and the food had been way above her usual standards. Simon had made her laugh, paid her compliments and given her his full attention. Their conversation had been entertaining, even if its main focus had been people in the office and the more famous incidents Simon had reported on. She had been careful not to drink too much and had steered the conversation away from herself as much as was possible without appearing rude. Simon had been happy to talk about himself, his family, his aspirations. She had been surprised to find him far more humble on these topics now he was out of the office. The journalist’s protective spin was missing.

  She was glad too that he had simply kissed her on the cheek as the tram pulled into his stop, which she had known came before hers. She had insisted in the restaurant that she had no need of a chaperone to see her home. There was never any trouble on the trams – closed circuit cameras and the threat of a total ban from the transport systems saw to that. And he had begrudgingly respected her wishes. One day maybe, she might allow him close enough to see where she lived.

  Leaning her head against the cool of the tram’s window, she focused on the reflections of the other passengers, made solid by the darkness outside. What sort of night had they had? As good as hers? It had been a good night and yet she was more than a little reluctant to admit it.

  The question of why plagued her to her stop and then followed her the short distance to her block. She was making too much fuss, surely? Her head berated her gut reaction and each fought for control.

  With the smooth flight of the lift to the 35th floor, her head won; she was just being stupid – it had been a great night. She rested her head against the smooth wood of her front door. She had a disquieting feeling that she had already agreed to another date anyway, this time of her choosing. She swiped her door card and entered her code. The door swung open. Closing it behind her, she forced the questions into the background and headed for bed.

  Five

  Lucas pushed back hard; his frustration freewheeled his chair across to the window. He knew there was something missing from this design, but it was too elusive for him tonight. He wasn’t like Gabriel, free to express himself as he wished. His creativity was controlled by lines, angles, degrees. And, of course, by the client.

  He twizzled round to stare out into the darkness. The uniformity of the contrast between black and silver in the heavens was soothing to him. Even before his change, he’d always loved the night. None of the shades of daylight, no clouds creating hues from grey to white.

  High rise towers for living and working were the planners’ gift to the post epidemic society. These were new buildings, comparatively he supposed. New since HaemX. The regeneration had slowed now. Back when society’s balance was being established, back when the need of vampires for humans and humans for vampires was still an edgy dance, priorities had been to cleanse, disinfect, kill the virus that had killed so many. Had it worked? Who knew? People had stopped dying, and so all sides had claimed success.

  There was still space. Such population devastation had that kind of consequence. And, if he was honest, it had been a planner’s dream. Create and improve, that had been the brief back then. And, eventually, he’d done just that and eventually, he’d enjoyed it.

  To the left of the Business District where he now was, lay the Entertainment District where his mystery woman was and Gabriel too, no doubt adding to his already not inconsiderable wealth. Strangely, he had thought more about the girl with the sculpted hair than his friend. Where was she now?

  Sure to be enjoying herself. Unlike him. He turned briefly back to his plans. Old world desired, but with new world standards of design and functionality. Difficult, and currently proving impossible.

  He’d made a good start, he knew he had, but tonight, it just wasn’t there. As he had the corner office on this floor, a perk gained by his talent or so he was told, he had another view to distract him.

  Far to the north of here was the Manufacturing District. Far enough out to service, but not to blemish the face of those that consumed its power, its goods.

  For the majority of the population, ignorance was not only blissful, it was enforced. High levels of security were needed to gain those districts. It had been easy to set that up in the early days. The remaining population had been devastated with grief at so much death. Numbness had only just been beginning to set in. Survivors burying their heads had been the least of the internments going on back then. It had been a kindness, a service to a new society that the vampires had performed. The post epidemic society was strictly on a need to know basis and the Joint Government had deemed that most didn’t.

  He knew of course. He’d helped design the systems. It was odd that the vampires knew more about the creation of this world than the humans running it. The last human who actually remembered HaemX had died decades ago, so now it was just his kind that held the memories of what the world had been like before.

  Perhaps he should draw? The smooth flow of graphite onto paper took him back to a time when computers weren’t the norm. To a time when he’d been a rising star, the only pressure to keep on the up, not simply to maintain standards. He knew his colleagues considered his desire to sketch an amusing quirk. Computers with their touch sensitive screens were their sketchpads. But he needed more. Paper, wood, nature. He demanded that chain to keep him focussed. Buildings were for people.

  His intercom buzzed, its harsh blare making him skid the pencil across the page.

  ‘The boss wants to know if you’ve forgotten the drinks reception upstairs,’ came the disembodied voice of Max Taylor’s PA.

  ‘No. No. Of course not,’ Lucas lied, gathering up his sketches. ‘I was just on my way.’

  *

  ‘For those of you whose first time it is up here in the Glass Plaza suite, welcome.’ Max Taylor. Vampire. Architect of some skill. Although it was his ability with people, clients especially, that had led him to the best office in the block and the dubious title of ‘Director’. Max was on fine form, Lucas reflected as he stood towards the edge of the fifty or so people gathered on the top floor of the building.

  It was a mixed crowd. The humans were sipping cocktails and wine - their working day at end. The vampires were on the alcohol free stuff – their working ‘day’ having just begun. Not that anyone would have noticed. It shouldn’t have been something he paid attention to anymore. One set of workers ending their day while the vampires’ was starting. It was good. It had taken time for all to accept it, but it worked.

  Max continued on about the success of the latest factory project that they were all here to celebrate. Redesigning a pre-HaemX warehouse complex to house a Gastro-Choice food preparation centre had been satisfying, if not the most worthy project Lucas had ever worked on.

  ‘Along with increased choice for the humans amongst us,’ Max paused. ‘The Joint Government has declared a firm commitment to using any new Gastro-Choice profits to fund research into synthetic blood-food products for the vampire population.’

  There was polite applause but no great o
ut pouring of joy at this proposal. Lucas had heard such promises a few times over the years. No one really cared that much. Humans donated and got credits. Vampires fed. Society didn’t seem to… Lucas searched for the right word. It wasn’t as negative as apathy, not as positive as contentment. Equilibrium. That was it. It was equal so no one noticed it. It was just the way things were.

  Max had moved on to the obligatory appreciation part of his speech. Lucas was glad he was just an architect at moments like these. Or, cancel that, usually glad, for here it came, as Max continued:

  ‘Of course, none of this would have been possible without the skills of our amazing design team, led by Lucas Harrington.’

  And suddenly all eyes were on him. No requirement to speak, that was something; Lucas pasted on a smile, nodded acknowledgement and raised his glass to Max. Lifting his in response, Max moved on to invite everyone to eat and drink but rounded off with a humorous reminder to his vampire workforce that their working shift had not long begun and that they weren’t to celebrate too much. Humorous but with just enough edge to it to make it not that funny, Lucas thought as he moved off to do just enough socialising to be polite and then get back to his desk. An idea for the design was forming. He’d nurture it, not be too greedy for it, let it evolve slowly and by the time he made it back downstairs, the idea would be there, ready for him to pluck out and set it on paper.

  Lucas was just replacing his glass on the buffet table before making his escape when he felt, more than heard, Max at his elbow.

  ‘Come with me.’

  It was a command, rather than an invitation. Lucas followed his boss across the room.

  ‘Don’t speak, not even an introduction. They all know who you are. Just listen.’ Max inclined his head towards the back of the room. ‘We’re going to join them.’

  If a huddle could appear menacing, this one did. Corner of the room. Closed ranks. No smiles. No familiarity. One speaker, the rest silent. Max touched an arm, the circle widened, admitted them and closed again. The speaker did not falter.