Symbiosis: A Vampire Psycho-Thriller

by Louise Atkins

  ‘So you found your way back okay then?’ A voice cut across them. Lucas shut his eyes tighter, in frustration this time. Moving slightly apart, Lucas made sure Emily stayed firmly at his side as Gabriel approached them once more.

  ‘Yes thanks,’ Emily said. ‘Thanks for the tour though.’

  Lucas squeezed Emily’s hand, out of Gabriel’s line of vision.

  ‘The pleasure was all mine,’ Gabriel insisted. ‘What do you think Lucas, of the exhibition?’

  ‘Great. Popular again. I see lots of sold stickers.’

  ‘A successful night all in all. It’ll take me a while to work out the profit, but I’m sure I’ll manage. We’ll all have to go out and celebrate later.’

  ‘Maybe,’ said Lucas, knowing that he’d be thinking of an excuse when the time came.

  ‘There’s just one place left that Emily hasn’t seen,’ Gabriel said. ‘I’ve got a couple of clients to encourage towards a major purchase that they really can afford, no matter what they currently think, so you’ll have to take her, Luke.’

  ‘Where? Surely you’ve been everywhere in the time you took.’ Lucas tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

  ‘The workshop, of course. You need to show her the whole artistic process,’ Gabriel looked at Emily and smiled. ‘There might be some pictures there you’ll like, and besides, Lucas designed it.’

  With that as a throw away remark, Gabriel bent and kissed Emily’s cheek and moved off with a gesture to a nearby waitress for more champagne.

  Once their glasses were replenished, Emily turned expectantly to Lucas, ‘So? The workshop?’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. You designed it. I want to see it.’

  ‘Maybe we should just call it quits and go somewhere else. I’m not sure this has been the most successful evening so far.’

  Lucas regretted the words before the sentence was even finished. He watched the expectant smile disappear from Emily’s face as quickly as if he had just slapped away Gabriel’s parting kiss.

  ‘I was quite enjoying it actually,’ she said. The softness of her words absorbed a little of his irritation.

  ‘Sorry. I just kind of meant that I’ve not spent as much time with you as Gabriel, and …’ he paused, not wanting to sound even more like a petulant child, or to confess to the distinct green haze obscuring his thoughts. Why, after all this time, was he still no good at this?

  He looked at Emily and realised she was smiling. Frowning, he said,

  ‘Are you laughing at me?’

  Her smile widened and danced into her eyes.

  ‘Only a little.’

  Lucas paused, pursed his lips.

  ‘I suppose you still want to see the workshop?’ Emily nodded. ‘Okay, but first we need our coats.’

  Returning with them, Lucas explained about the hidden way to the workshop through the gallery. He hoped she’d be impressed, but knew the place was too crowded to actually show her. A brief flash of his last encounter with a human woman in the workshop invaded his mind; her desire had been more for his kind than for him. All it served to do was to remind him how different Emily was. She liked him for who he was, not what. His brain snapped back a reminder that she actually had little choice on that.

  ‘Give security HQ a wave,’ Lucas suggested as they left the shop. They did so. The warmth of the gallery had stolen the memory of the cold night, so he tugged Emily along the pavement at a fast march. The streets were empty. Lucas wondered what time it was.

  ‘Where are we going? Is the workshop not part of the gallery?’

  ‘Yes, but we’re going in the back way. It’s just down this alley.’

  They turned right at the end and then halted in front of a black metal door. The light from the street hardly permeated down here. Lucas tried the handle.

  ‘Locked. I thought it would be.’ He fumbled in his pocket and drew out a key.

  ‘Is that a real key?’ Emily asked, eyes wide.

  Lucas resisted the urge to point out that this was a proper lock.

  ‘Gabriel doesn’t use this door much. Wasn’t worth updating it.’

  ‘Still – a key. That’s pretty unusual. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a working one before.’

  ‘Would you like to?’ Lucas handed it to her. Feeling for the key hole, he guided her in, enjoying the warmth of her hand in his.

  Lucas pushed the door open. He knew that despite its apparent lack of use, Gabriel kept the door well maintained. He often referred to it as part of the secret art of the building.

  Lucas flicked on the light switch to reveal a narrow, wooden staircase. They clomped up the steps, their feet seeming loud. None of the noise seeped into the gallery – Lucas had made sure of that when he had chosen the building materials. Gabriel had said he didn’t want clients disturbed. Similarly no noise from the gallery would disturb them here.

  ‘And here we are.’ Lucas opened the door at the end of the corridor that the stairs had led them to. He allowed Emily to descend the couple of steps into the workshop.

  ‘The hidden door from the gallery is back there,’ he pointed, and then realised that his words were wasted; Emily was lost.

  On the work bench in the middle of the room were six models. Six human heads born from clay. All six wore different emotions. A twist of hatred, a gift of joy, a jagged knife of fear. Emily stood before them, totally still, her hands hung by her sides. It seemed as if she were hardly breathing. Gabriel had captured her. Again. Lucas turned away.

  ‘You took these.’ Her voice reached him and he looked at her once more.

  She had crossed the workshop and was standing in front of what had to be the latest project. It was covered with an air-tight transparent bag and was obviously still in the earliest stages, but its form was unmistakable. He joined her. Followed her gaze, not to the embryonic sculpture, but past a jumble of tools, to a photograph. Black and white. Blown up to a size that magnified the suffering. It was a woman. The lack of light in her down cast eyes, the single tear that was the release of her pain, all too present to leave an observer unmoved.

  ‘You took this, this picture,’ Emily repeated. Lucas moved the tools aside.

  ‘Yes.’ He paused. ‘I did.’ He turned to look at Emily’s face, but she did not see him. Her fingers hovered over the photograph.

  ‘Lucas took all the pictures for these sculptures actually.’ Gabriel’s voice sliced across the moment. Lucas slowly turned to face him, reluctant to break away from Emily. She replaced the photograph, scuffed a hand across her face but did not turn.

  ‘They’re amazing aren’t they?’ Gabriel had entered the room proper and stood, as Emily had, at the workbench. ‘I couldn’t have done any of this,’ his arm swept out to indicate the sculptures, ‘without him.’

  ‘Don’t be so modest, Gabriel. You’re far more talented than I’ll ever be. I just point and click,’ Lucas protested quietly.

  Emily turned then, didn’t speak, but simply slid her hand into his.

  ‘But you see it, Lucas. You see it in the first place. You have to, to capture it so immaculately. All I do is reproduce what you see.’

  ‘I think that probably requires a degree more talent.’

  Gabriel shrugged. ‘Emily, are you suitably impressed with Lucas’s designs – the pictures, the whole room for that matter?’

  ‘Definitely.’ She squeezed his hand.

  ‘Good. I must get back. Just wanted to make sure you got here okay. There’s more money to be made tonight. I’ll catch up with you two later.’

  Once they were alone again, Emily took both his hands and stood before him. Lucas looked down at her.

  ‘They are amazing.’ When she reached up and pressed her lips to his, the depth of her feelings, the sincerity, overwhelmed him. It stole his breath. Yet, also, it filled him with life, hope, and, he nearly staggered, with love.

  She continued, seemingly unaware of his shaken state.

  ‘Maybe you should get Gabriel to put on an exhibi
tion of your work, instead of all those pretentious pictures upstairs.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ He hadn’t meant it to sound so cutting, but the turmoil of his emotions had him too far off balance. He fought it, and added in a softer voice, ‘I’m glad you like them though.’

  ‘I do. I bet you’ve taken loads. I’d love to see them sometime.’

  ‘Sometime,’ Lucas echoed, without much conviction.

  Emily nestled into his side.

  ‘I’m going to hold you to that,’ she added. ‘I mean it. I think they’re brilliant. Have you got lots more?’

  ‘I guess so. It’s not something I think about really. It’s just a hobby.’

  Emily laughed, her breath hot on his cheek. Lucas shut his eyes, gained control and changed the subject.

  ‘Let’s go shall we? I’ve had enough fine art for one evening.’

  ‘Okay,’ Emily paused. ‘You can come back to mine if you like. We could watch a film, or listen to music or something. I won’t offer to show you my photograph collection as I don’t actually have one.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘No. That’s not true. I do have one favourite picture, maybe I’ll show you that.’

  Whatever it was seemed to amuse her, for her face disintegrated into a smile. This he could handle, Lucas thought with more than an internal sigh of relief.

  ‘Let’s go then,’ he said.

  ‘Do you think we should say goodbye to Gabriel?’ Emily asked.

  ‘Probably, but I’m sure he’s incredibly busy and definitely wouldn’t want to be interrupted by us. Come on. Let’s go,’ Lucas said, unable to resist smiling at her raised eyebrows.

  The kissing that had begun almost before the tram doors had ejected them back into the night, had led them to Emily’s door and straight to the sofa.

  Lucas’s senses were humming. The scent of her was so deep within him that he was breathing it back into her. The fire of her body writhed beneath him. He was possessed.

  He pushed himself back up above her. Drank in her smile, the rumple of her clothes, the feel of her skin beneath his caress.

  He kissed her lips, her closed eyes, trailed kisses across her cheeks. He was so aware of the life of her beneath him, his desperate wanting of it, of her. Her hands were kneading into his shoulders, even as his moved lower to explore the rest of her warmth. He could feel her, pressing herself into him. It would be so easy right now just to…

  He gasped, not just at the realisation of the moment. Pulled away. Sat up, back to her. The beat of his heart was faltering. The race car that it had been only seconds ago had drained him.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Emily sat up, rubbed his shoulders, kissed his cheek, not concerned. Not initially, at least. Then, she must have seen the tremor in his hands as he tried to rub them across his face, for her next words were sharper.

  ‘Lucas, what’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing. It’s nothing.’

  ‘It doesn’t look like nothing to me. Can I get you a glass of water or something?’ She rose from the sofa.

  ‘No,’ he said. Water wouldn’t do it. ‘I mean, no thanks. Just tired, I guess. Working too hard.’

  He stood, tried to disguise a stagger by shrugging his coat back on. ‘I’ve got to go. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Maybe you should stay, you don’t look so good.’

  Lucas was all too aware of what he looked like. How had he let himself get like this? His skin would be greying. The cooling sweat of their passion was now adding an icy sheen to his face. He could feel his heart dragging. His limbs were heavy. He had to go.

  ‘I’ll call you in the morning,’ he said.

  ‘No. Call me when you get home. In fact, no, I’ll come with you. I can’t let you go like that.’

  ‘No. I’ll be okay. This happens sometimes, when I work too much. I just need to get home. Rest.’

  He was at the door. She wasn’t convinced, he could see that. He hated himself. He should never have let this happen. Never let any of it happen.

  ‘Lucas, tell me what’s wrong. Please.’ She reached towards him. ‘Are you ill?’

  ‘No. Nothing like that.’

  ‘I don’t want you to go. Not like this.’

  Did he dare tell her the truth? Looking down at her, the evident concern, he knew the conversation that would inevitably follow if he told her what he needed. And that made the truth impossible.

  ‘I need to go. I’m sorry.’ He kissed her, hoped she would realise the truth of his words.

  ‘Just call me when you get back. Promise me you’ll do that.’ He could feel her eyes searching his face.

  ‘I will.’

  Once in the safety of the lift, he huddled his coat closer around him. He needed to feed. He’d been too long without. She made him too alive. He night have enough within him still to make it back to his place, but he knew that would be no good. He was in a human district. Could he risk going to a Donation Centre round here? He felt his blood thickening, his head began to spin. He had no choice. He needed blood. And it had to be fresh.

  Forty Seven

  I’m going to take the life of a woman. You may not recognise it as my work straight away but, rest assured, it is me. It has to be a woman for they will treat her death differently to those so far. You’ll see why.

  I’m fed up of being in the shadows. Playing as support to the HeadHunter’s starring role. It is time for the first of my secrets to be revealed. And this, this is definitely the way to do it.

  I wonder if you will realise. Will anyone? Don’t you worry, though. This isn’t the last of my secrets. Not by a long way. This is just a special little clue, just for you.

  Forty Eight

  By Saturday evening, Emily was convinced she’d done something wrong; that Lucas’s abrupt departure had been her fault. The feeling between them before he’d left… it had felt real. Right. But now, his words about being ill through over-work seemed unconvincing. He had looked ill. She’d had no doubt about that at the time.

  But now… now, she wasn’t sure. He hadn’t called. Had just sent a message in the early hours of Saturday morning. Had said he was feeling better.

  What he hadn’t suggested was meeting up again. Emily wondered if Gabriel had said anything. Had she made some stupid error in the gallery that had put Lucas off?

  Maybe she hadn’t done anything. Maybe Lucas just wasn’t that lovely after all? Perhaps all that stuff about Rachel and agreeing with her that their meeting was fated, had just been rubbish. Lies. Maybe he was simply having a good laugh at her. There. That was better. Anger felt better than confusion.

  Emily flopped down on the sofa. And maybe she was overreacting? Maybe he was going to call any minute and then she’d feel even more stupid.

  The door buzzer went, startling her. That would be him.

  But no. The relieved laughter died in her throat as she heard Simon’s voice. Another hard kick to remind her that life was not the way she wanted it. Still, at least he wanted her.

  She went to open the door.

  Simon struggled past her into the flat with a box, which he deposited in the middle of the floor.

  ‘There’s been a breakthrough, Emily. I mean – I’ve made a breakthrough.’

  He planted night-chilled hands on either side of her face and kissed her. He pulled back when she didn’t respond and regarded her for a second, then he turned from her to shrug off his coat and reach into the box to draw out a bottle of wine.

  ‘Here, we’ll need this. It could be a long night.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Emily knew she should sound more interested, but her voice could only manage dull tones.

  ‘You and I are going to solve the HeadHunter case.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Possibly not solve it, but certainly work out a massive, massive clue. Go and get some glasses and I’ll explain everything.’ Emily obeyed as it simply seemed to the easiest thing to do.

  When she returned, Simon poured and then sat her on the
sofa. The box was still in the middle of the floor. Simon now positioned himself behind it.

  ‘Okay. Here’s what you, and everyone else, don’t know yet. The HeadHunter killed again a couple of nights ago and again last night. Total media blackout this time. Why, you might ask?’ He paused and looked expectantly at her. Emily looked back at him, not speaking. He tried again, ‘Why, you might ask?’

  Emily sighed and chose the path of least resistance once more.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because this time, the killer left a clue. Now, the Security Forces don’t know what the clue means, and personally I think they’re going in completely the wrong direction. Lucky for them, I happen to think I can solve it. And, even better, if I’m right, that clue leads onto other clues. He’s given himself away, Emily. We can catch him.’

  Despite much misapprehension, Emily felt herself being drawn in.

  ‘Number one, why do you know about this when no one else does? And, number two – what makes you think you can do something the whole of the Security Forces can’t?’

  ‘Because I am Simon Jones, investigative journalist. And I know people, and I know stuff. And part of the stuff I know is in this box.’

  He flung open the lid, and unwillingly, Emily sat forward.

  ‘RAGE?’ The words came out as a whisper.

  ‘Every copy there’s ever been. Going back ten years or so.’

  ‘You’ve brought RAGE here?’ Voice far stronger now.

  ‘Yes. It’s part of the clue. I’m sure of it.’

  ‘Just how much do you want to shove home your anti-vampire message Simon?’ She rose. ‘I think you’d better go. I really don’t need any more lectures from you about vampires.’

  ‘What? Emily, this is not about you. It’s about catching a murderer.’

  Simon stood and crossed the room to her. He enclosed her in his arms, stroked her hair. Resisting until he released her, Emily stood her ground and he returned to the box.

  ‘Let me explain. Please, Emily. You’re the only person I want to help me with this. I know your feelings about the suckers, but you’d have hated me bringing RAGE to you no matter what. I need your help. You’re the only person I trust. Please. Just hear me out.’