At times, it astounded him what the fledging Joint Government had managed to achieve. All those ‘ills’ of society – the excessive drunkenness, the hours spent on social media, the drugs, the tobacco – all those things that the survivors had deemed as wrong, were gone. Planned out, all part of some great vision somewhere. That this society was designed was under no doubt, but did Lucas really care? Not really. For a time, he’d been shrouded in grief like everyone else, and now it was the norm.
He was, as ever, amazed at the number of people out - it seemed every night was a weekend night for some people. That thought stopped him briefly. Who was he to judge? He had work in the morning. Should have been working now in fact.
Gabriel, slightly in front of him, was beckoning him down the road which lay directly ahead of them. This was one of the busiest areas and Lucas knew where Gabriel would want to go – Dance Hall.
It was a good proposition. And a little walk away. Lucas smiled to himself - that gap between drinks would be welcomed. He must be getting old. His smile widened into a grin that his drunken facial muscles could not restrain. Old; that was a good one. He was about to catch Gabriel up when he noticed a group of girls whose smiles seemed to be headed in his direction. For once, he stood still, trying to look nonchalant and not at all interested. They walked past, giggling. He’d noticed that that was a pack instinct. This hunt always followed the same pattern. One of them would look back, yes, there it was, and then on again – to the next victim.
‘Come on’ Gabriel called. ‘Or are we following them?’ Lucas flushed and replied,
‘Not my type.’
‘No? Your standards are way too high then. Or you’re not drunk enough.’
‘I tell you one thing,’ Lucas began as they continued down the road, ‘I could drink a lot more before I was changed.’
Gabriel stopped.
‘Lucas, I can’t believe you still think about things like that.’ He paused and when Lucas only replied with a frown, continued ‘This is what you are now. What you’ve been for a long long time. Much longer than you were human.’
‘Doesn’t matter. I can still remember it.’ Lucas tapped his forehead. ‘I make myself remember it. It’s important.’ He didn’t add that some of it was too important to ever forget.
‘I can’t see why. That time’s gone. I know I’m post HaemX, but still …’
‘Exactly. Post HaemX, this is all there is. But it didn’t used to be. We used to be free.’ Lucas closed his mouth. Hoped it was the alcohol making him suddenly maudlin and nostalgic. He didn’t want to ever forget. It was a world Gabriel had never known. Yes this world had been comparatively young when Gabriel had been changed, but it had still been this world. All safe, all secure and perfectly designed.
‘Another time mate, I’d love to hear all the crazy tales of the good old days when everyone was wild and lived a life of excess and enjoyed every minute. Only don’t forget the bit when they all dropped down dead. This is it.’ Gabriel spread his arms wide and staggered around in circle. ‘This is what there is. You gotta live it, Lucas.’
They were silent a moment. Lucas looked around at a world gone slow motion. People laughed, lurched in groups from clubs and bars; they talked, they told pointless unfunny jokes, no doubt they cried too. All moved through the world. This world. And enjoyed it.
‘Ha! Did you hear what I said?’ Lucas turned to find Gabriel convulsed with laughter.
‘What?’ Lucas’s frown deepened to something close to real annoyance.
‘I said, ‘Live it’. Live it? Us? We’re vampires. How can we?’
Lucas opened his mouth, unsure of what would come out. He knew Gabriel was right, but before he could voice this, Gabriel continued,
‘Do you know sometimes I even surprise myself with my amazing wit and wisdom?’
‘You surprise me too.’
‘Come on,’ Gabriel said. ‘You know which club is just down here don’t you?’
Lucas joined him and they moved off, together.
Within minutes, they stood opposite a set of steps which led down to a door outlined by dancing blue lights. The queue for this club was polite-drunken; on their way but knowing that the exclusivity offered inside would lead to a much more pleasant journey to inebriation than that offered by many of the clubs around. It was called Flesh and Blood.
Lucas and Gabriel watched for a few seconds. The couple at the front of the queue presented themselves to the doorman, obediently placed their hands in the optical finger print reader, were scanned, cleared. Allowed in.
‘Remember all the times you tried to get in there?’ Lucas said, laughing.
‘I tried everything. Chatting up the female door staff, trickery, bribery, the back entrance. What a nightmare.’
‘Even you had to give up on that one.’
‘Bloody disgraceful. Not letting in vamps.’ Gabriel moved on, shaking his head. ‘The owner’s something to do with RAGE I think. That’s another thing that shouldn’t be allowed.’
RAGE was a publication, calling itself a magazine, which invited comments against the vampire community. Someone had kindly, and anonymously, left a copy on Lucas’s desk just after the magazine was started. Although Lucas had not been surprised to find such a thing in existence, he had been shocked at the vehemence of the views that society should return to the way it had been before HaemX – vampires as the enemy.
Before Lucas could speak again, Gabriel said,
‘It’s cold out here. Come on, let’s get to Dance Hall.’
Lucas had often considered Dance Hall the most inappropriately named club. There was dancing true; three floors of it, but Hall? The room they were in was more like a cave. Low ceiling, punctuated by lights that glowed blue, then purple, through to silver, gold and then momentary darkness before beginning the cycle once more. There was no obvious source of music, although the beat filled the room.
There was no designated dance floor either. People simply danced where and when the urge took them. With little seating, people generally either leant at the bar or stood in groups, close enough to shout at one another in something that passed for club conversations. Not a place to philosophize on the nature of man, or woman for that matter. Or, perhaps the perfect place.
Lucas looked across at Gabriel who was chatting to a girl he seemed to have cornered off from her friends. Blonde, glittery eye make-up, high heels, big eyes. Gabriel’s easy pull material; he reserved sophistication for the art gallery clientele. She was their kind though.
Lucas turned back to his drink. It was his second in the club. Gabriel seemed to have left a trail of empty glasses, although Lucas couldn’t recall seeing him drinking any of them. He had to admit, his head had begun to swim a little again, so Gabriel must have been slurring all over his conquest. Still, she was pressed up against him, so he couldn’t have been doing too badly.
Lucas smiled. Pulling in clubs rarely appealed to him. You were never really sure what you were getting. There was a good mix of human and their kind, but everyone could lie; pretend to be something that they weren’t. He shook his head and caught a glimpse of Gabriel, arm clamped around blondie, but executing an awkward head movement towards one of her friends who’d joined them. Lucas knew exactly what it meant. He increased the shaking of his head. Gabriel mimed disappointment and retuned his attention to the girls. Lucas returned his attention to his drink.
A minute later, Gabriel and his lady had joined him.
‘This is Lucas,’ Gabriel made the introductions, ‘And this is Becky.’
‘Hi Becky.’
Becky smiled, splitting perfectly glossed pink lips to show even teeth. Someone had done a good job on her. Almost involuntarily, Lucas ran his tongue over his own compulsory dental work. No pointy canines to give anyone away these days. It had been one of the first conditions The Committee had proposed. No obvious signs of the vampire kind. Protection of a kind for the vampires. The humans had been all too willing to accept the ‘fang file’ as it h
ad become known. It had made them feel safer.
Gabriel put his arm around Becky and she giggled obligingly.
‘We’re going.’
Glancing at his watch, Lucas noted it was already 5 o’clock. A respectable time to leave with the darkness of winter still giving some safety.
‘Okay, I might stay for a bit.’
Gabriel raised his eyebrows but only said,
‘I’ll call you.’
‘Have fun,’ Lucas said.
‘We will!’ Gabriel clapped Lucas on the back before wheeling Becky round and herding her up the stairs to the exit.
Lucas watched the cocktail of people still left in the club. There were vamps not long out of work arriving steadily, humans who had been out all night and still had energy to spare. There were couples in corners, their prowl for partners begun many hours ago; they’d not hang around much longer. It was all a wheel. And he had placed himself on the edge of it. A voyeur. He either needed to drink more or leave.
He left.
Eleven
It’s easy to appear what you’re not: happy when you’re sad, drunken when sober, patient when the itch is there to kill.
I am in shadow, but soon the light will take me. The weapon that has come to my hand would have been overlooked, dismissed by most. A mere shaft of wood from a discarded palette. A twist. A snap. My weapon, not aesthetically pleasing, but purposeful, is ready. The Entertainment District is so full of glitz and glamour on the surface, yet there is the same level of trash behind the façade. I wonder if I shall always kill here, or if, one day, I will tire of it and need to spread my message further afield.
But, wait. Footsteps come. Two people. Two vamps, straight from the club. Both blond, both too entangled in one another to spare any attention for me.
Two. I hesitate. I breathe. Try to centre myself. Long for my proper killing stake. Can I take them both? Of course.
I step out. Tall. Proud. Confident.
Even now, they hardly glance at me. Their mistake makes my blood sing.
I approach. They stop. Smile. Polite. Expecting that I will move. I don’t. Do they realise? Do they begin to perceive that their world is going to end? Only their world. Not mine. No. With two vamps gone, my world is going to be improved.
I raise my weapon. The shaft is rough. I briefly consider the inconvenience of splinters as I plunge it into him. And then, he is simply gone. His dust floats free.
My weapon, liberated and proven, seeks its next challenge.
The girl, stupid with alcohol, stares on.
But not for long. Their dust mingles. Romantic really.
I leave my mark, my message and arise. Tested, and more successful than I had anticipated.
Two in one kill. Self-doubt is gone. Such a damaging emotion.
Twelve
Emily’s phone began to ring as she entered her flat. It was ten o’clock. Late for phone calls on a Tuesday night. The display showed it was Simon.
‘Hello,’ she answered.
‘Hi. Didn’t wake you, did I?’
‘No. I’ve been out.’ She would never have admitted to have being asleep anyway. ‘Just got back.’
‘Oh.’
There was a brief pause. Emily decided he could ask if he were interested.
‘Anywhere nice?’
Pleased, Emily mused how to answer. String him along? Claim to have been out at some mad party or been clubbing on a work night?
‘At a friend’s. Sadie. We’ve been making invites for another friend’s party. She’s Sadie’s friend more than mine, but as I’m going to the party, I said I’d help.’
Emily shut up. He probably wasn’t that interested.
‘When is it?’
‘Not for ages yet.’ Emily flopped onto the sofa. ‘What have you been up to then?’
‘Been busy actually – not been in the office much.’
‘No,’ and then, before she could stop it, ‘I’d noticed.’
‘Had you?’
‘Yes, kind of.’
Silence descended. Emily stood, paced the length of the room and then sat down again. Willed him to say something.
‘So,’ he began.
‘Yes?’ Too abrupt, she chided herself.
‘Our next date?’ He let the question hang. Just long enough for her to interrupt, but Emily said nothing, other than a coyly stretched out,
‘Y-e-s?’
‘Your choice, I think we said.’
‘Indeed we did.’
‘And?’
‘And I’ve thought about it …’
‘Really?’ Simon asked.
‘Yes.’ And that was no lie. She’d been amazed to find herself pondering it in slack moments at work and especially on the tram rides at the start and end of each day since the previous Saturday.
‘And?’
‘I thought a trip to the theatre would be pleasant. There’s a play I’d like to see. It’s called …’
‘Pressure,’ Simon interjected.
‘Yes. How did you know?’
‘Saw you looking at on screen the other day.’
‘In my lunch hour, I hope you noticed that too,’ she flashed.
‘Yes I did. Don’t panic, I’m not about to shop you to Bernstein.’
‘That’s okay then. I could shop you for spying on me though.’
‘You could, but you won’t.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I just do. Journalist’s hunch. Bit like feminine intuition, only it’s more logical.’
‘Huh,’ was Emily’s only comment.
‘Anyway, I wasn’t spying, I was taking an interest,’ Simon said.
‘Is that right?’
‘Yes, it is and I happen to have reserved two tickets for Saturday night.’
‘Have you? How could you be so sure that that’s what I would suggest?’ Emily asked.
‘Journalist’s hunch, I told you.’
‘And how did you know whether I’d be available this Saturday?’
‘Journalist’s hunch works in all situations.’
There was a pause and then he added, ‘Are you free?’
‘I’ll just check my diary,’ she paused, held a copy of their latest paper next to the mouth piece and rifled through the pages. ‘As it happens, I am.’
‘See? Right every time,’ Simon laughed.
‘Maybe. Or just lucky.’
‘You’ll have to stick around a bit longer to see won’t you?’ he said.
‘I think I can do that.’
‘So, Saturday …’
‘I’ll meet you at the theatre, shall I?’ Emily leapt in before he could suggest anything else.
‘Oh, okay,’ he sounded disappointed. Tough. Simon continued, ‘The play starts at 7.30. Let’s meet for a drink first. I’ll meet you outside the theatre bar at, what, seven? Is that okay?’
‘That’s fine.’
‘Hopefully I’ll see you at work tomorrow, if I actually get to my desk.’
‘I guess you will. See you then.’
Emily sat for a moment. She nodded. That had gone well. Her cheeks felt a little flushed. She glanced at the heating setting. It was hot in the flat. She rose, turned it down. Now what? Obvious really. Go and plan her outfit for Saturday.
*
Emily approached the theatre bar with a confidence that she was starting to believe in. Simon had been pleasantly attentive during the rest of the week, not that he’d been in the office that much, and when he was, he had been closeted with Bernstein. Maybe he’d fill her in on the big secret this evening.
‘Hi, Emily.’ A voice came from behind. Turning, she saw Simon below her, running up the steps that led to the theatre bar. Something about the way he was puffing slightly, his cheeks glowing with the bite of the night air, made her heart warm; she’d never seen him not in control. She waited, fighting the smile back down inside.
‘I’m so sorry I’m late,’ he offered, reaching her and brushing his lips across her cheek.
&n
bsp; ‘Are you?’ She feigned surprise. She knew that she herself had been late, but there was no need for him to know that was there? It was good to be the calm, collected one for a change.
‘I got stuck in the office. I’ve not actually made it home. Not changed or anything. I’m really sorry.’
Emily stuck out her hip and pursed her lips. Eyed him up and down.
‘You’ll do. Apology accepted. Do you want to find somewhere to eat? We might just have time before the performance? Some scrumptious GastroChoice fare for the hardworking journalist?’
‘I’ll pass on that option, thanks. I grabbed a bite with Bernstein while we plotted. Let’s get inside. It’s freezing out here.’
‘Plotted? Sounds intriguing.’
‘It was, it was, but if I told you, I might have to kill you,’ Simon said, smiling as he held open the large wooden door for her. Emily stood for a second and let the atmosphere paint her in its tones. Crimson, gold, and delicious promise.
The bar itself, at the back of the room, served only wine or water and was made from the darkest mahogany. Its front was carved with a forest’s tangle of ivy leaves which then curled up the pillars supporting the ceiling. There were a few people at the bar, where Simon headed straight away.
The rest had been drawn to the centre of the room; for there was the fire pit. Emily joined them. The red leather armchairs and sofas were always shunned in this place. Here, all were mesmerised by the fire.
Like a precocious child, it demanded total attention and adoration. It was sunk into a black marble lined pit, some four to five metres deep. The polished surface lent its mirror to the fire’s glory and in return for such adulation, the fire gave up its light and warmth to the drinkers. The only other light came from candles behind the bar. Emily knew from a previous visit that even the credits-readers that were used behind the bar had their LCD displays subdued by special filters. Emily closed her eyes, leant on the granite ledge that ran around the edge of the pit and got warm.
Daring to turn her back on the fire before her cheeks could become unattractively flushed, Emily decided to enjoy the other, frequently over looked feature of the bar: the photographs.
Symbiosis: A Vampire Psycho-Thriller Page 6