‘You got a job?’ Sam inquired when Simon shoved his phone back onto the table.
‘Not really. Only a missing vamp.’
‘Where?’
‘Not sure of home address, worked in a bar. Not turned up for any of his shifts over the weekend.’ Simon toyed with his phone. ‘He’s probably just holed up somewhere with a bucket of blood.’
‘Simon!’ It was out before Emily could stop it. He grinned, enjoying the shocked looks from the others as well. She frowned at him, no desire to smile this time.
‘I just can’t believe that’s all that serves for news round here,’ he moaned.
‘Could be worse. You could go and work for the Farming District’s papers,’ Sam offered.
‘I don’t think so.’ Simon pushed his chair back and stood. He added, ‘No. I can get my real writing done elsewhere. Far more important than reports of missing suckers. See you all later.’
He tucked his chair in, left his mug on the table and strode across the room. He turned back once he was by the card readers. This time, she did smile.
Eight
Lucas stood at the window of his flat and looked down at the lights below him, each one a show of life. Those in his housing district newly lit, those further away in the human district had been blazing into the winter evening for some time. They turned the city into a mosaic of light and darkness.
He stretched and glanced at his watch. Four o’clock. He was up early. Lucas shook his head. Would he ever get used to night being day? Even after all these years, it still seemed wrong that day was night and night was for work. When he had been properly alive, he’d been an early riser, had enjoyed the solitude of sharing the sun’s first light with the birds and the cats not yet returned home; the time before the day was polluted with too many thoughts, too much life. Then, of course, HaemX and his change had come. The end to that existence.
Feet whispered on the carpet and took him to the bathroom. The fluorescent strip light had a cruelty he needed today. He stared at himself in the mirror. Eyes that were dead in so many ways stared back. He hung his head, arms tensed against the wash basin to force himself upright. Without looking back in the mirror, he spun on the taps and splashed cold water on his face.
Today, he decided, was to be an ironic day. The mirror for a start. Pre- HaemX, when the very existence of vampires had been a truth kept hidden by a very deliberately created mythology, the glass on the wall had supposedly been a way to detect his kind – no natural life, no reflection. How many undead lives had that neat idea protected?
He wished it were true. Looking back at himself, he ran a hand through his hair. Never any different. That supposed myth was simply a fact. Hair could be restyled with any number of products, but it would never grow. No need to shave either, but he couldn’t say he missed that. Attempting to be buoyed by these facts, he snapped off the bathroom light and wandered down the hall to the bedroom.
Having dressed, he returned to the rectangle that was his living room. The window drew him once more. Life really was going on around him. He flicked at a dial hidden behind the edge of the blind. In an instant the glass darkened into its daylight hours setting. The world disappeared. All the vampires’ windows had that facility. No need for blinds or curtains really when chemicals within the glass itself could do the job more efficiently. He’d heard too that the new blocks being built for humans were also using the technology. Some things that were good for one were good for the other after all. Lucas pressed his fingers to the glass, savoured the cold on his skin.
Maybe he was hungry. And there was another, and very bitterly felt irony. The kitchen was off the main room. Going in, he surveyed the view. All present and correct – hob, oven with grill, microwave, fridge, freezer. Full cooking capability. Shame they had limited use for him. Yes, he had human friends, but dining at a vamp’s place did not come high on any human agenda.
Welcoming the chill, he reached into the freezer and grabbed a packet, checked the date, still edible. He huffed at the word, imagined it written in the air in front of him and then carefully enclosed it in quotation marks. He slung the solid brick into the microwave, its red dulled to maroon by the power of the freezing process. There was even a special setting – defrost to warm. Too hot and it was useless as food. The life it offered denatured.
Ping. Ready to go. Fast food. He tilted his head and squeezed the contents of the packet down his throat. As ever, it felt too dense, too gelatinous. As ever, he fought the urge to gag, made himself swallow until it was gone. He shut his eyes, hung his head once more. Darkness his protector in so many ways.
He could no longer remember the taste of food, but he knew there had been a time when he could. On his blackest days, he headed to the Entertainment District or browsed GastroChoice. All that food was now was words, labels for things forever denied to him. Hunger for him now was a dull ache that throbbed through his entire body, his system needing the life force of another’s to sustain it. This hadn’t been his choice. His hands tightened into fists.
He returned to the window. Forced himself to relax. No, it hadn’t been his choice. It had been a reward. Yet another irony. He had been handpicked, ‘recruited’ for his skills, skills that would be needed to rebuild the cities, the homes, people’s security. No. Not a choice for him, but it was still his life. HaemX hadn’t killed him.
And it wasn’t that bad. He tried to convince himself and failed. He had friends, Gabriel and others, he had the respect of his colleagues, a city manufacturing, existing well, partly due to his work. His eyes travelled across the city in the direction of some of his factories. Out of sight, but still working through the night, like him.
In the corner of the room were his computer and drawing table. Ignoring the electronic part of his life, he clicked on the light that was clamped to the side of the drawing table. At least he didn’t have to worry about working in the best natural light. He would draw. Would call the office, tell them he would be working at home.
He picked up a pencil, enjoyed the solid feeling in his hand. His straight lines and angles, elevations and calculations were the most substantial thing in his world. He took comfort in them. They took him to a time and a place where he was truly alive.
Lucas ignored his phone the first two times it sent its ring to disturb him. He firmly held that phones were for the convenience of the person being called, rather than the other way round. It was a belief that had begun with the growing use of mobiles in the pre-plague days and had never really changed.
When the buzzer on the flat added its harsh tone to the mobile’s ring, he finally couldn’t deny that someone really did want to get hold of him.
He surveyed his work on screen, pencil had led to pixel and he was quietly satisfied with what he had achieved. The buzzer went again. Longer. He’d transfer what he’d done to the office once he’d got rid of this person. The fly style buzz had now became the tone of an angry wasp. He saved his work.
‘What kept you?’ Gabriel’s voice sounded small coming through the intercom. ‘I’ve been out here ages and its cold and I’ve got some great news. Let me in!’
Lucas rolled his eyes. Was he ready for a burst of Gabriel? He returned to his computer, added a final note to his design and sent it to the office. Maybe Gabriel and his enthusiasm for life after death was exactly what he did need. Concentrating on his work had eased his self-pity, as it always did. He stood taller, braced himself for Gabriel’s onslaught and went to meet his friend from the lift.
‘What is with you? Why didn’t you answer? I’ve been trying for ages. Even tried you at work.’
Lucas shrugged.
‘I was concentrating, I guess.’ He knew that Gabriel didn’t actually want or need an answer. This was all just part of their ritual. Like brothers, one older, sensible, studious, the younger, an over excited puppy about everything life, or in their case, death, had to offer. A balance.
‘Working? Poor excuse. The only good thing about being stuck outside in
the freezing cold is that this is now perfectly chilled!’ Gabriel held up a bottle of champagne. Lucas raised his eyebrows.
‘And what are we celebrating?’
‘The gallery. Made enough profit from the exhibition that the Arts Council has finally decided to trust me and give me a grant to open a proper studio.’
‘Just for you? Are you actually going to exhibit your own stuff now?’ Lucas said.
‘Good joke. It’s only a hobby for me, you know that.’ Gabriel had followed him and was stood, lounging in the doorway to the kitchen. ‘No. Spotting up and coming artists, that’s where the money is. Develop them, flog their work in the gallery and the Arts Council gets a cut. Perfect!’
‘You should still think about developing your sculpture though,’ Lucas said.
‘I’ll show my work when you exhibit your photos.’
‘No one considers photography to be art these days. Too much technology. Too much enhancement.’ Lucas’s tone came out harsher than he had intended. His photography was personal. It expressed nothing and so he would never class himself as talented.
‘Ah yes,’ said Gabriel, leading the way back into the living room, ‘But I do, and I’m going to be in charge. I might decide to include you in my stable of new talent.’
‘Don’t bother.’ He tried to lighten his tone. ‘I don’t think anyone would buy my stuff. It’s not even worth hanging up in here.’
The walls of the flat were either window or bare. One side of the living room was devoted to shelves. On them were the various books on architecture he possessed, all dating back to pre-HaemX days. All disdained by colleagues too young to know their value. Some days Lucas was all too aware that he owed his originality to them.
The top three shelves were given over to boxes. Nondescript brown boxes. All the same, all holding photographs. Most were pictures he had taken, commentary written on the back of what he, the world, the camera and finally the computer had produced. Some were old pictures he had found or bought. They were the important ones; they could never now be reshot. There were also other pictures. Ones he rarely allowed himself to think about.
Lucas considered these boxes his loot. Photography made a thief out of him, stealing seconds in time, emotions, preserving moments that were meant to be lost. It was a low art, he knew that.
Gabriel, he realised, had been talking about his plans for the new studio and rattling off names of potential artists. Lucas forced his gaze away from the shelves and back to the champagne. The least he could do was make an effort for his friend, and it was good champagne after all. The cork flew through the open kitchen door and clanged into the sink.
‘Great shot!’ Gabriel exclaimed and held forth a glass to catch the gush of bubbles. Lucas filled both glasses and put the bottle on the floor.
‘To you and the new studio!’ he proposed.
‘To art!’ Gabriel insisted, and then added, ‘And to making lots of money from it!’
Lucas shook his head, couldn’t help but smile and gave in to his drink.
*
They had agreed that this would be their final toast. Lucas tried to force his bubble-filled brain to invent something to top Gabriel’s toast to the size of the assets required by the female artists he was going to invest in. Lucas knew he was struggling. Gabriel was still giggling over his toast or perhaps just over the thought of his ‘fillies’ in general as he was insisting on calling the female members of his stable.
An image flooded Lucas’s mind so strongly that for a second it sobered him. An image of a girl, a black dress, that perfect hair. Her smell engulfed him. A memory to be sure, but one he remembered too well. He realised now it made him hungry. He staggered.
Gabriel laughed even harder.
‘You’ve had too much to drink! Come on, let’s down these and head out.’
‘I really am meant to be working.’
‘Don’t be so boring. Your toast?’
Who was he to fight the power of Gabriel and the power of a little too much champagne?
‘The girl on the tram,’ Lucas said quietly.
‘What?’
‘Just drink.’
They did.
Lucas watched as Gabriel lurched off to collect their coats. He felt the champagne rise in his system once more; the toast had cleansed him.
‘Here’s the plan,’ Gabriel threw Lucas his coat, which he failed to catch, making them both laugh harder. ‘Drink more, find some fine ladies, assess,’ Gabriel stumbled over the word, ‘assess their artistic merits and then see what the rest of the night brings.’
The rounded corners that the champagne had added to Lucas’s world helped when Gabriel suggested a stop off at the Donation Centre before they headed into the Entertainment District. Lucas normally hated coming here, did so as rarely as possible, usually only with friends when they were going out. Was it just the champagne that had made him less reluctant? Especially as he had fed not long before.
There were centres scattered all over, but this was always the most popular. As was their intention, vampires usually headed in to fortify themselves with fresh food before hitting the Entertainment District. This centre was also the busiest for human traffic. Extra donations by humans meant extra credits; useful for an evening out. Humans were strictly monitored for their donation levels, but vampires could get as much as they wanted, provided they had the credits for it.
The lift deposited them on the second floor where they were greeted by a receptionist in a dark blue uniform. All the Blood Technicians wore such uniforms. They appeared to be nurses, but Lucas knew that all they could do was stick you or feed you. The real nurses were kept strictly in the background. Emergency use only. Except there were never any emergencies allowed here.
‘Good evening ladies,’ Gabriel greeted, leaning over the edge of the white reception area to read the technicians’ name badges. ‘Lisa and Sarah, we’d like two of your finest Boosters please.’
The techs, having seen similar performances all evening, smiled politely. Lucas turned away; a little distance seemed a good thing right now. The world was beginning to tilt somewhat and Gabriel’s charm was doing nothing to help it.
‘Your cards, please,’ Lisa held out her hand expectantly. Lucas handed his over with what he hoped was an apologetic smile. Gabriel fumbled in his wallet to find his.
‘Boosters?’ she continued, swiping their cards to remove the appropriate payment.
Once the transaction was complete, a pair of glass doors to the left of the desk swished open and another tech stood waiting for them.
‘Hi Gabe,’ she greeted as her face curved into a smile. ‘How are you?’
‘Fine. And you? Long-time no see, Laura.’
‘Yes, must be all of yesterday since we last saw you,’ she replied.
‘What can I say?’ Gabriel gave an expansive shrug of his shoulders. ‘I’ve not had time to shop for food!’ He laughed heartily, trying to nudge Lucas into joining him. Although Lucas found that the alcohol deadened his normal disapproval, he still could not quite summon the guffaws that gripped Gabriel.
They followed Laura down another clinically white corridor, which gave way into a lounge area with plush maroon sofas, subdued lighting, a jungle of potted plants and pictures detailed enough to draw the eye but bland enough to appeal to all.
‘Take a seat gentlemen.’
Doing so, Lucas scanned the room. There were about ten to fifteen people already there, either getting Boosters or full on Sustenance. All the faces were unfamiliar to him. Although the vampire population was entirely stable these days – no new vamps were changed unless an old one opted out of their death existence, their numbers were such that Lucas accepted that he would never know all of them. It hadn’t been like that at the start. They had been select.
There had been a few, like him, created right at the beginning of the brave new Plague world, some bargaining tools for the vamps to show their worth in the much reduced society. Once that place had been established
, more had been changed. A new, worthwhile social class.
Their Boosters arrived in specially insulated glasses to retain the core body temperature of the contents.
‘Service with a smile too,’ commented Gabriel as Laura left them. Lucas eyed his drink. Despite for once wanting this, he hated this public forum, still had to force himself to fake enjoying it. The freshness did make it somehow smoother and for once, the Booster almost satisfied him. Or maybe that was just mixing it with champagne. Whatever it was, he couldn’t deny that he felt better, good in fact. He stood and said,
‘Let’s go then.’
‘Now that’s a bit more like it,’ declared Gabriel, rising and clapping Lucas on the back. ‘Let’s go and have some fun.’
Nine
I’m excited. Tonight, I’m out to play. Out in the Entertainment District along with all the fun loving citizens. My first kill was such a success, I’m sure you’d agree. The confidence it’s given fills me with the desire for more. To push my plan on quicker.
But I will resist. For now. Tonight is about fun. And about challenge. Tonight, like any truly great musician, I’m going to improvise. Free style. I plan to kill. Of course I do, but I’ll take no weapon with me. In my mind, it’s essential for a killer to be able to take a life with anything that comes to hand. And tonight that is just what I intend to do. Literally.
Join with me. Let’s see together what the night brings.
Ten
The Central Plaza of the Entertainment District where they had halted momentarily was the hub at the centre of a wheel. Side streets radiated off, spokes of diversity, catering for all tastes. People invariably sampled different flavours of fun within a night out, but the walk in between had been specifically planned to aid the sobering up process and no drinking was allowed in the streets.
Symbiosis: A Vampire Psycho-Thriller Page 5