‘And?’
And what? What did Gabriel want to know? Who she was? What she was doing here? He didn’t want to tell. She was his, his camera-captured creature. In his head, she was perfect – did he even want to speak to her? Risk it all?
He answered in the end with a frown.
‘The drink?’ Gabriel prompted. Lucas realised that he hadn’t really tasted a drop. He shrugged, non-committal, relieved that he hadn’t spilled his secret unnecessarily.
‘That’s what I thought too. Let’s get champagne,’ said Gabriel.
They both turned back to the bar, Lucas fighting the urge to keep her in focus. Her presence seemed to dull the artificial luminosity of the dance floor. He knew her glow was behind him and he wanted to bathe in it.
They drank, at the bar, champagne in an ice bucket attracting the amorous glances of a few women. That was Gabriel’s most recommended tip for meeting the ladies – offering champagne as if it were simply GastroChoice wine hooked them every time. Maybe he should try it. Lucas shook his head. Not his style.
‘How’s the factory?’ Gabriel was trying normal conversation, but Lucas could see his eyes roving the bar space just behind him, searching for a pretty victim to charm and discard.
‘Dull.’ Lucas replied. ‘No. Alright, if I’m honest. The plans are going well. How’s the sculpture?’
‘I gave up on it. Couldn’t quite get it right. Too twisted I think.’
The laugh Gabriel added was so incongruous with the statement that Lucas was somewhat taken aback until he realised it was directed towards a blonde and a brunette who stood just behind him. He sighed. He obviously wasn’t going to be seeing much of Gabriel this evening. Not that it mattered this evening. He had her.
Gabriel maintained their conversation until he’d finished his glass. He offered Lucas the rest of the bottle, and said he was going to assist the ladies with their drinks order. Lucas couldn’t help but laugh. As Gabriel moved past him, Lucas realised his earlier question had never been answered.
‘How did you get in here tonight? I was watching the entrance the whole time?’
Gabriel laughed,
‘Not for me the normal ways my friend. A wink and a promise to the right staff and they’ll let you in the back way.’
Lucas shook his head, but clapped his friend on the shoulder.
‘Be careful. Don’t break too many hearts tonight.’
‘Wise advice. I’ll be back in a bit. Keep you updated on my progress. That is, if you don’t want to join me?’ Gabriel inclined his head towards the objects of his next move. Lucas shook his head.
Gabriel swooped in on the ladies, his order for champagne already placed. He scooped them both up, along with the bottle, ice bucket and glasses and whisked them to the nearest new moon seats available.
Lucas disregarded the pang of jealousy. That was not his way. And, besides, Gabriel’s departure left him free.
*
Emily felt someone dance up alongside her and she moved aside to let Sadie wiggle her way back into what remained of their group. Sadie beckoned Emily closer and said,
‘Where’s everyone else?’
Over the thick beat, Emily could not be sure that that was what her friend had actually said, and offered a shrug of reply. Sadie grabbed the others and they threaded their way off the dance floor.
Once closer to the bar, Sadie addressed the little huddle once again.
‘Where are the others? It’s gone three.’
‘We’re here,’ giggled a girl called Sophia whose drink to dancing ratio had finally tipped towards the alcohol side.
‘Katy and Christina left ages ago with a couple of blokes,’ offered Emily, her eyes back searching the dance floor. ‘And, what’s her name? Is it Amber? She and her mate are over there.’ She nodded back towards the dance floor.
‘Jo, Nat and Sam bailed early – said they were working tomorrow, no, I mean today,’ said Sadie.
‘So, that just leaves Rachel,’ Emily said and scanned the dancers once more. ‘I haven’t seen her for ages.’
‘Me neither. I saw her getting chatted up by quite a fit bloke earlier on,’ Sadie added.
‘She ditched him and went after someone else,’ Sophia said. ‘And then, once she’d got bored of him, she moved on again. I tell you – she was celebrating in style.’
‘A birthday’s a great excuse, I say,’ chipped in Sophia’s friend, whose name Emily couldn’t remember.
A lot of the guests had been Rachel’s friends from work whom Emily had never met before. It had been a good evening, but she’d found it quite odd being the only person who hadn’t already known everyone else. Perhaps that was why she’d stuck mainly to the dance floor. She’d hardly seen Rachel after they’d left Night Boat – it seemed that not many of the others had either.
‘I need to go – my feet are killing me,’ moaned Sadie.
‘Me too.’ Sophia wriggled her toes in ridiculously high sandals that were still half decorated in silver stars in honour of the occasion.
‘Okay – I’ll find Rachel. You guys head to the doors,’ Sadie said.
‘I’ll get the coats,’ offered Emily.
Emily turned and tried to work out the best route across the bar and dance floor to the cloakroom. The club was still packed with people. She guessed more might be vampires than humans at this hour. It had been a great night. It had been fun to be out with female friends, fun to be able to eat plenty and drink just enough for her head to feel pleasantly light and fluffy. She selected a route past the bar, left at the end, in front of the seats so that she could join the coat queue in the corner. Prepared, she set off.
*
She was coming right at him. Had she seen him watching? Lucas had tried not to. Tried hard to be distracted by the women that Gabriel had ensnared, but always his gaze had been drawn back to her. Lucas knew that eventually his friend had given up on him. He hadn’t seen Gabriel for what felt like hours, presumed he’d met a woman and left, but that wasn’t an option, not while she was still there. And here she was.
Lucas found himself shrinking back into the bar. What could he say to her?
‘Hi, you don’t know me but I’ve a thousand photographs of you back at my place?’ or ‘Hi don’t worry about the fact that I’ve been staring at you all night, I’m all right really?’
She was closer now. He turned back to the bar as she passed, head hanging down, eyes wide. He was breathing, but just. She was stopping. He twisted slightly. No. She was being stopped. A man. She was so close. This was the closest she had ever been. He breathed, deep now. Was she there? Yes. Perfume, shampoo, the dirty, too many layered smell of the club – but underneath all that, a deeper note – her true note. He twisted further, hoping apparent attention to his drink might mask demanding eyes.
The man who’d halted her progress had also tried it on with her earlier in the evening. She had been having none of it then and was clearly not interested now. Although… what was she doing? Reaching up to kiss his cheek? Bastard. Lucas fingers strayed to his own face. Would her kiss burn or soothe?
Man dismissed, she was off again. Her proximity had spiked him. What should he do? Was this his chance? She was here, he was here. It might never happen again. He had to. He followed.
*
Emily dragged the back of her hand across her lips. That bloke had been funny, desperate – after any which one of them he could get. Her kiss had been, she hoped, a consolation prize. She laughed, how patronising was she? Definitely time to go.
She had left the bar area now and had woven her way between the seating and the edge of the dance floor. She was right opposite the bar, dark side of the moon, little light here, just the slight glow from the edge of the dance floor that the press of bodies allowed to escape.
She stopped. Something drew her. Drew her towards two people standing. Very still. Looking, just looking into one of the crescent moon alcoves.
*
She’d stopped. What was she doi
ng? Meeting someone? No, that wasn’t it. She was too still. Halted. Frozen. Lucas stepped closer.
It was Rachel. Emily could see that. She turned to the other still people. She didn’t know them. Strangers. Rachel was slumped. Drunk slumped. No. Too much stillness. Not right. Too still. Head down, hair hanging. Not a natural pose.
One of the strangers stepped closer. Emily did not move. She raised a hand, a hand to cover her mouth, trap what was building inside her. Her other hand grappled space behind her.
And met flesh.
*
Her hand. It reached out. Found him. She turned. One hand pressed to her mouth, eyes wide, did she see him? Lucas did not speak, but closed his hand over hers as it clutched at his shirt.
*
She turned. Saw a man. His gaze was solid. His eyes were brown, his hair dark. She was touching him. He had her hand.
She turned back. A man was moving Rachel’s head. Lifting it. To wake her. Just to wake her. But no. Pale skin. Hollow eyes. Empty eyes. And there was blood. So much blood. Each pulse of the club’s lights transfixed her. Rachel’s dress was no longer silver. Now, coloured lights turned what had to be red, red blood into a deathly rainbow.
And, on her neck. Two ring holes and trails of blood. Misplaced tear tracks.
Lucas watched her. Turn from him, turn back.
And that was when the screaming began.
Twenty Eight
Some pushed to look. Some shrank back. And in that crush, he lost her. Their contact was severed by a voyeur, a greedy clubber, wanting in on whatever the scandal was. Lucas was pushed, jostled, numb from her touch rather than from whatever it was she might have seen. He didn’t even know. All he’d seen was her.
The house lights came on, made blinking moles of people previously safe and having fun in the darkness. Music noise was replaced by voice noise. He saw the Security Forces materialise.
The crowd were pushed back. View blocked by a ring of men. Where was she? Inside the ring? He couldn’t see. He wanted to shove his way back to her, but he knew it was useless.
An announcement.
An incident. Nothing more. All details were held on the Credits Reader. All would be contacted tomorrow. All could go. Except – a list of names. Was hers there?
Lucas allowed himself to be carried by the exiting crowd to the night outside. He saw the journalist vultures already circling. His attention was drawn to one, back to him, talking – tight, hushed furtive, with one of the two Security Force staff now on the door of the club. Lucas knew who it was. Simon Jones. There for the story or there for his girlfriend? He was allowed into the club, whichever it was.
Lucas dragged his gaze around. Elsewhere, other clubs and pubs continued. But, here, people persisted. Twos, threes, sometimes larger groups, eyes always raised to the club doors. This crowd would draw in others. It seemed he was the only one on his own. His fingers found his mobile in a pocket. He dialled. No answer from Gabriel. No surprise. What now? The crowd had swelled already – bacteria growth quick. Time to go.
*
They’d asked her for the names of her party. But it hadn’t been her party, she’d answered, it had been Rachel’s. And now Rachel was… Her mind would hardly form the word for her… Rachel was dead. The Security Forces officer drew the names from her. If the world had been real, Emily realised later, she would probably have felt foolish – for she knew few of the other girls’ last names and still couldn’t recall the name of Sophia’s companion.
Now, they were gathered. A pitiful huddle. Shock had brought a drought to tears. Occasionally one of them still shook their head, began a sentence, but somehow the eyes of all the others on the speaker, desiring them to offer the words that would condemn this scene to unreality, perhaps to a dream, the desperation in those eyes would silence any words about to be spoken.
Emily gazed around her. Security Forces officers had curtained off the body, the crime scene as they were calling it. A detached part of her mind realised that they used no names, each of them giving orders was a captain, all the subordinates were simply officers. Officers who were currently talking to the staff of the club in the bar area. What could they possibly know? All they did was serve behind the bar, clear drinks. Maybe that was it. Her mind leapt – they would have seen something, they’d be able to help catch the killer.
But no. She watched the shake of their heads match the ones her friends were still making. Watched the officer check with a captain and then dismiss the staff.
Emily looked back at the group. How stupid they appeared in their costumes now. The shine of the stars on her dress should be dulled; their holographic twinkle was no way to respect the dead. The others had removed what bits of their costumes they could, but it was still so wrong.
‘Emily?’ She turned as someone called her name. She was still, not trusting this to be real, then she flew to him.
‘Simon.’ His name on her lips was muffled inside his embrace.
‘You’re all right. It wasn’t you.’ He held her away from him momentarily, long enough to brush away the tears that were wetting her cheeks. ‘I was called. A friend, journalist, said there was a girl dead at Moonshine – I knew you were there …’ He pressed her back into him.
There was a cough. Polite, but insistent. They broke apart. Emily scuffed the tears from her face with still trembling fingers.
‘We just need to ask you a few questions, Miss Gregory.’
The officer led her to an alcove. She noted that all her friends were being questioned, neatly positioned with an alcove separating them. The officer took out a small black box and placed it on the table between them. Its obvious purposefulness was very much amiss amongst the half-drunk bottles and glasses, empty but for their lipstick stains. He pushed a handful out of the way, gloved hands only – anything could be evidence, she supposed. He clicked a button on the top of the box. A small green light flicked on. Emily focussed on it.
‘If I could just …’ The officer leaned forward and clipped a narrow silver stick to the centre of her dress. She eyed him, gloved fingers adept, face non-committal, features so bland and even that he would be perfectly unnoticeable in a crowd. The ideal Security Forces officer. He sat back. She noticed a similar silver slither on his uniform. He smiled at her and slipped into a patter of words that probably did not engage his brain in the slightest.
‘Miss Gregory, this is a Voice Transcriber Unit. It forms part of standard field procedure operations. The unit will record our interview and transcribe it into text. You will then be asked to read through what we have discussed, clarify any points that you wish and then agree what is transcribed. This interview transcription will form part of the evidence for this case. Do you understand?’
She wished he would repeat it all, slower, so she could focus, could listen properly, to make it clear that this really was happening to her. Instead, she just nodded. He indicated her silver stick and her shock thickened brain realised that it was a microphone. He needed her to speak.
‘I understand.’ The cracked whisper was not strong enough to help anyone – and it was not her. Bowing her head for a second, she locked her hands together on the table in front of her. Emily dug her finger nails, hard, into her knuckles, looked up, and said again, clearly,
‘I understand.’
*
‘It was pitiful, what I could tell them.’ She shook her head – it seemed to be the only move her body was capable of making – that, and the tremble that had yet to be stilled. Simon had taken her back to his place. The other girls had gone off, either in pairs, or to make calls to boyfriends, lovers or anyone, anyone so as not to be alone.
The interview hadn’t taken long. She’d said all she could, about the strangers – who she knew now were called Charlotte and Joe – about the man who’d been with her when she’d first seen Rachel. Except he hadn’t actually been with her, he’d been behind her, she thought. Close though, close enough to catch her, his touch an anchor.
She went th
rough most of it again with Simon. He’d given her brandy. She gulped at it. Its warmth fired her insides but did not spread to dampen the shake of her hands. He’d refilled her glass twice now.
‘I just can’t believe it. It just can’t be. Someone’s going to call in a minute.’ She fumbled into her silly silver fancy dress handbag for her mobile. ‘Yes. Sadie will call. Say it was all a big practical joke.’ She stared at her phone. Nothing.
‘Emily.’ The quiet tone of his voice drew her eyes to his face. He took the phone from her. ‘Emily, it happened.’
She searched his eyes, then dropped her own, feeling a sob rising, rising to tear through her body.
He held her until she was still enough for him to kiss her. Then he kissed her and kissed her until part of Emily realised she was kissing him back, clinging to him with that same desperation she’d felt in the club.
The kisses took them into the bedroom, into the bed. Movements guided by the need to feel alive, to create tangibility from an evening ended in disbelief.
Emily became detached from herself. Awareness returned. Too sharp. This wasn’t what she really wanted. She opened her eyes. Watched the man moving above her, inside her, his eyes shut with the sweetness of the situation.
She knew she should stop. Stop it. Stop him. But she didn’t. He was real. This was real. She entered herself once more. She was alive.
*
Just for a second, in her swim up from sleep the next morning, everything was okay. Then Emily opened her eyes and felt the black weight of the previous evening take up residence inside her once more. She wanted to curl into the smallest ball possible, negate herself, so all this would disappear, or sleep until the world righted itself. But, instead, she swung her feet off the bed and sat up.
Simon’s bed. Her brain flung an all too graphic memory at her, which only served to deepen her darkness. How could she have let that happen? She’d no longer been drunk – events had sobered her all too quickly. How had she done it? And where was he now? She rose, taking a second upright before trusting her legs to carry her to the bedroom window.
Symbiosis: A Vampire Psycho-Thriller Page 13