Now she felt stupid. Bristling, she added ice to her voice.
‘What’s this then? Black market?’
‘I guess you could call it that. Sort of.’
‘Then, I don’t want anything.’
‘Oh Emily, come on.’
‘No thanks. You said this place wasn’t illegal.’
‘It’s not. I promise. This stuff, these drinks, they’re not illegal. Just expensive. The government knows about this place.’ Simon shrugged, ‘They agree the licence every year.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. I’ll get a bottle of wine, then you can just have a bit. Try it. See the difference.’
He led her to a table in one of the corners and poured her a glass of red. It did indeed, taste different. Fuller. And much stronger. It coated her mouth. After a sip, she put it down.
‘You’re quiet,’ he observed, moving his hand to cover hers on the table. Emily was surprised he’d even noticed.
‘What is this place?’ Her gaze still roved the room. The other people who were here all seemed happy and relaxed. They could be anywhere. Nothing seemed subversive, or dangerous.
She reached across and pulled one of the comics from the next door table.
‘Night of a Thousand Fangs?’ She read with raised eyebrows.
‘That should answer your question.’ Emily was surprised to see the wariness that had been present earlier return to Simon’s face as she opened the comic and flicked through.
Images of sharp teeth, exposed necks, darkness, smoke, night, blood, death greeted her. Images of vampires. She grabbed another, took a graphic novel, different title, images in a different order, but essentially the same.
She turned to him.
‘It’s all true, Emily. Everything here is reproduced from genuine material from before HaemX. It’s what the blood suckers are really like. People put it all into books, comics, films, but it’s all true. This is their true nature.’
Emily said nothing.
‘Those books,’ Simon indicated the far wall, ‘all give details of the vampires’ past, disguised as fiction, as entertainment, but all true. Hell, some of it was even written by vampires.’
‘In there,’ he pointed to a door, off to their left, that she hadn’t previously noticed, ‘that’s the big screen room. We play all the old vampire films – that’s what the flickering is – films that you won’t find on the usual entertainment channels.’
‘But, all these people …’ Emily glanced around her. They were all part of this. They all condoned it.
‘They all know the truth too.’
‘But,’ Emily faltered, then clutched at a protest, ‘But it’s not true. The mirrors, the Holy water, the instant flames in sunlight. That wasn’t true.’
‘Okay,’ Simon sat back, swirled his wine in his glass. He was contemplative, she pent up, spring-coiled. ‘I’ll give you the mirrors. That was a clever little ploy concocted by them for their own safety. Holy water, crosses – that all used to be true when the population still believed more fervently in God.’
‘What about sunlight then?’
‘Now, that is a good one. They’ve made some inspiring moves on that issue.’
‘You almost sound like you admire them.’ She moved, closer to the edge of the seat. Further from him. Her fingers were curled into white fists, her foot beat out a tight rhythm.
‘Oh no. Don’t make that mistake. I’ll never do that. They calculated what to do about sunlight, just like they calculated who to vamp after the epidemic. At first, it was simply people who hadn’t died. Then, as time went on, they were more choosy. All could apply, still can, but their selection process was rather more specific. They picked rich kids to get their money, they picked kids on the way up to get their positions and they were oh so careful as to who was allowed to do the vamping. A little of them, the biter, transfers to the victim, you see. That’s all part of the change. And so they bred themselves a little sun-tolerance; those with it were allowed to make more of their kind when the time was right, so now they can stand early and late sun – but midday? They all still smoke.’
Simon laughed and took a slug of wine. Emily shrank further from him. Her voice felt too small.
‘How do you know all this?’
‘Research. Contacts. Know your enemy.’
She was on her feet, escaping out from behind the table.
‘Emily …’
‘I don’t want to hear anymore.’
‘I’m sorry, but I felt that you needed to know. They’re not harmless.’
‘They don’t kill.’
‘But they could. It’s always there. It’s their nature, Emily.’
‘No.’
Pushing her way between tables, intolerant of people in her path, Emily did not care how much attention her exit was drawing. Nearly running down the corridor, it was only now she registered what the film stills were. Vampires in flames, being thwarted by holy power, vampires beheaded, vampires with stakes rammed through their chests. All the victors were solidly human. She had no idea who they were. Did not care.
She ignored Robert and James’ surprised looks at her sudden entry through the glass doors, didn’t care that her demand for her coat was rude. She grabbed it and began up the stairs. The release button for the front door was all she fixed her attention on. It grew bigger in her sight until her palm collided with it and she was …
‘Emily. Stop. Where are you going?’ Simon said.
‘I can’t believe you brought me here.’
‘I wanted you to see the other side.’
‘I’ve seen it and now I’m going home.’
‘Emily, you can’t go on your own.’
‘Yes I can.’
‘It’s not safe.’
‘I’ll be fine.’
‘I’m coming with you.’
Finally, she turned to face him.
‘No. I’ll be perfectly safe. Human, remember? Let’s face it, if I were their kind, you’d have nothing to do with me.’
*
The persistent angry vibration of her mobile was eventually too much for her to ignore. She knew her display would reveal Simon as the caller. She knew too, that she would not be answering.
Her flight through the tunnel and back to what was her world, the real world, had hardly registered on her bruised senses. Now, in the safety of the tram, the newly viewed familiarity of the worn leather seats was enough to allow a link back to what she’d left. The number of missed calls grew as the tram returned her to where she wanted to be. Needed to be. She jabbed the phone to ‘off’.
The tram carried her through the Entertainment District. She was a stone, unmoved by the revellers that got on and off around her.
She resented him even more once she was home because, with the evening’s experience, he had even banished the comfort of her flat. She had thought that the sanctuary it offered would be enough to stabilise and rebalance her. But no. She looked around with the eyes of a stranger. Nothing seemed the same. But it had to be. She had to make it that way. Simon was wrong.
Switching her phone back on, she did take grim satisfaction in the number of calls from him that she’d missed. He’d left messages too but she erased them without bothering to listen. His first text message, which she did allow herself to read, had been an apology. His second had been to enquire if she was safe.
She thought about not replying at all. Thought about phoning instead, telling him exactly how he’d made her feel, not giving him a chance to speak, and then simply hanging up. Thought about it, but then realised that she didn’t actually know what she would say and she was not prepared to spill angry tears. Pride, dignity, indifference were going to be her armour. That and a cold, cold silence.
A text message would serve adequately. She sent:
Yes I am safe.
His reply was instantaneous.
Where are you?
She left that one alone. Let him wonder.
His following ‘Can I call
you?’ she also dosed with silence, and then she turned her phone off again when it began to ring.
Staring out of the window at the glimmers of other apartments, the winding lights that led the trams across her life, Emily knew that the world was the same. The place that Simon had shown her had always been there. There were probably other places like it too. Had she known? Somewhere deep down? Honesty forced a sigh from her. No. It hadn’t occurred to her at all.
Suddenly stupidity and ignorance laid claim to her anger. Her shoulders slumped. She laid her head against the cold glass of the window.
She’d known about RAGE though. But, in her world, that was written by a less than normal minority, twisted by something in the world that did not need to affect her. But, the people she’d seen tonight… they didn’t look like trouble. They were just out for a fun night with their like-minded friends. They weren’t out to break the law.
But… her brain protested, it was still wrong. Righteousness forced her erect once more. She didn’t care if Simon said the Joint Government knew about it. Maybe they did, maybe they didn’t, but it didn’t need to change her. She knew what she thought. She knew even more now who she was and what she believed in. If Simon had planned to widen her perspective or whatever jumped-up way he cared to justify himself, he had failed.
Twenty Six
Emily was surprised how easy it was to avoid communicating with Simon over the next week. He sent her messages. She ignored them. He tried to engineer situations where she would have to speak to him. She countered by ensuring that they were always part of a group so she could keep her words politely neutral. She was reassured that the decision to keep their relationship secret from those they worked with was now blatantly the right one.
As the week passed, she found that return to routine helped her regain her balance, to think less about the effects of the weekend. It was this that began to wear down the diamond points of her anger.
Eventually Simon’s sincerity permitted her to lower her guard a fraction at least, that, and the fact that her plans for that evening meant she was too busy to see him.
‘Emily?’ She turned to look back through the outside darkness of four o’clock December to the lighted windows of the newspaper building. She’d left her desk early, trading half an hour of her shift with Amanda. Now, her heart was cradling a flicker of excitement for her plans. Rachel’s party had arrived at last. Hearing her name, she hesitated, then turned and let her feet lead her back up the steps outside the office building.
She met Simon part way down. He was in shirt sleeves and was trying not to shiver as the ice of the evening bit him.
‘You’re leaving early,’ he observed.
Was he accusing her?
‘Yes.’
The silence was clouded by their breath intermingling and then dispersing.
‘Emily, I know, I messed up.’
She dropped her gaze to study the steps, already perhaps expectant of a blanket of snow.
‘I’m really sorry. It was a mistake.’
‘Yes. And you’ve said all that before, all week, at every available opportunity, but what you’ve failed to actually let me know is why. Why you thought it was a good idea in the first place?’ Her words sent crystallised ice shards into the night. She hadn’t realised she was still so angry.
‘I guess I wanted to show you somewhere different. Show you that there are people who don’t just accept society the way it is.’ He stopped and his eyes met hers, just for a second. He scuffed his feet. ‘I don’t know, prove to you that my views aren’t as odd as you think. That there are lots of people that think the way I do.’
‘I’d worked that out already. RAGE attack at the theatre – remember?’
‘I know, I know.’ He ran a hand through his hair and moved away from her a little. He looked up into the gathering night. ‘Emily, it’s just that I wanted you to see that there are just normal people who don’t trust the vamps. Normal people. That I’m normal.’
She let out a bubble of laughter, soft and low.
‘You don’t want to be normal Simon, surely?’
It took him a second to realise, but slowly a smile spread across his face. He shrugged.
‘Maybe. Maybe not.’
She was no longer quite so angry, but did need to have her say.
‘Okay. Apology accepted. But, don’t do something like that again. It obviously never occurred to you that I’m more than happy with what I believe, what I know about our society. That I don’t actually need it challenged by anyone, thank you.’
She felt it was a great parting line and headed down the steps once more.
‘Emily,’ he called. She halted, but didn’t turn to face him. ‘What are you doing tonight?’
‘Busy. Rachel’s party. Night Boat for a meal, then Moonshine for dancing, drinking and who knows what.’
‘Oh.’
She thought about moving, but didn’t.
‘Can I call you on Saturday?’ he asked.
‘Indeed you can, but not too early. It’s going to be a big night.’
Still without turning, she raised a hand and strode into the night, victorious.
It had taken much longer to decorate the table on Night Boat than they’d expected. She and Sadie had been pleased with their handiwork – Sadie had said that she was sure Rachel would love it.
Rushing home, Emily wished she’d had more time to get ready. She surveyed herself in the mirror. The ‘night sky’ fancy dress theme had seemed a perfect idea when they’d planned it. Now she wasn’t quite so sure. Her dress looked fine – she might even allow herself a good for that. She had taken a favourite old black dress and sewn on what felt like a million sequined stars. The dress was shorter than she would normally wear, but she was secretly pleased at how good it looked.
She felt she’d had to rush her hair and then tried to eye it with more objectivity than she felt. The diamond beads that she’d plaited in hung amongst the long straight lines of her hair and glittered in the light as she turned.
Emily pursed her lips at herself in the mirror. Did she just look stupid? Had she gone too far? Rachel was more of Sadie’s friend than her own. They’d been out a few times as part of a big group, but she was probably unlikely to contact Rachel of her own accord. Still, a party was a party…
Glancing at her bedside clock, Emily realised it didn’t matter if she looked stupid or not. Time was up; she went how she was. She grabbed her coat.
The snow that had begun falling while they’d been preparing the table had now stopped, but there was enough on the ground to make Emily realise that her high heeled boots could be a problem when she combined them with alcohol later.
Even watered down alcohol? Her brain threw the question at her with such force that she near staggered the next few steps. Shut up Simon, she told herself. She did not want to think about him this evening.
But, inevitably, once secured in the tram, Simon invaded her. His apology earlier had been sincere enough, but necessary. Yet again. How many hours had she spent on trams wondering about him? She allowed herself a rueful smile which she shared only with the darkness outside. Too many, she concluded. Hopefully he’d got the message now. And if not?
Before she could provide a satisfactory answer, Sadie bubbled onto the tram, all blonde curls and laughter and banished serious thought for the rest of the evening.
Twenty Seven
Lucas wasn’t really sure if Gabriel persuading him to go out was a good idea or not. Especially as he now stood at the bar in Moonshine on his own. The club thumped around him, busy but still filling. It hadn’t taken much, he reflected. A few phone calls from Gabriel, pointing out the obvious logic that the winter darkness meant he could begin work earlier and therefore finish earlier, and then the even more persuasive fact that an evening out would be far more fun than redesigning factory layouts, had been all it had taken.
The beat of a song caught him and swung his attention to the rest of the club. He had to adm
it he had been anti-social lately, consumed by his photographs. It almost felt good to be with people. The dance floor was in the middle of the room and was lit by an iridescent glow, supposedly reminiscent of moonlight. The seating that populated the far side of the room from where he now stood was all in crescent shaped alcoves; each new moon shape providing enough discretion to be private but also a good view of the rest of the room if the right alcove was chosen. Some were occupied, some not. There were enough groups dancing to make it look like a viable prospect, that if the choice were made, dancing could begin without the fear of the floor suddenly emptying and leaving one sole occupant. Not that he did dance. Not anymore. Too old now, seen too many changes in music, in fashion to be seduced by it these days. Where the hell was Gabriel?
Lucas turned back to the bar and contemplated another drink.
‘Here, try this one.’ Lucas turned to find Gabriel thrusting a glass of milky looking liquid into his hand.
‘What is it?’ Lucas eyed the glass warily.
‘Saturn Stunner.’
‘Hmm, don’t you just love a theme?’ Lucas said, not moving the glass any nearer to his lips. As Gabriel rattled off the contents of the cocktail, Lucas interrupted him,
‘How did you get in? I didn’t see you come down the …’
His words died in his throat, for, as his gaze had panned back to the entrance, his eyes had been magnet-drawn to a figure, just part of a group on the dance floor, but unmistakable. It was her.
He turned back to the bar, mind racing, the feed he’d had suddenly inadequate to pump his now furious heart. He stilled the shake of the glass in his hand by sheer will power. She was here. Too many scents to make hers out, but, oh, she was here.
Trying to focus on Gabriel’s prattling about the various cocktails, Lucas knew he had to maintain normality. He wasn’t ready to share her existence with Gabriel. Was he ready to meet her at all? He expected the boyfriend, the esteemed Simon Jones, was here somewhere too. With that thought, Lucas plummeted into his drink.
As he resurfaced, he found Gabriel’s querying gaze upon him.
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