Movements in the night.
Fingertips of evil
Caressing the light.
Hunger, lust
To precious life you cling.
Smelling the fear
As he plays upon the strings.
Blood, sweat
Dripping over your face.
Breathing down your neck
In a deadly race.
Darkness, shadows
Tasting your death
Screaming, agony
Take your last breath.
Blackness engulfed the city streets, its dark fingers reaching and probing every corner, gently stroking away the light until even the moon was naught but a pale ghost of itself. Most places were empty at this hour, their doors locked and barred after the last customer or employee drifted out. With the exception of a few, everything was closed and deserted. For a city that never slept, this one seemed pretty sleepy. Then again, it wasn’t a Friday night. Not even a Sunday night. No, it was Tuesday, not exactly your best party night. But for those that stirred when the sun set, it was just as good a night as any to be hunting. From some obscure bar tucked in between an abandoned theatre and a nightclub, music blared and laughter abounded. It was glaringly obvious amongst the relative silence of the night, and apparently, someone else thought so too. A figure rounded the corner at the top of the street, shoulders hunched against the wind. The figure seemed to glide more than anything; “walking” is too crude a word. The figure floated above the ground with each step, inhumanly graceful in the most feminine of ways. The woman approached the doorway to the bar. Hanging from the doorframe was a sign that read “The Lunatic Café.” Raising a slender arm, the woman knocked loudly. Almost before the third knock, the door squeaked open, barred by a formidable looking black man.
“What d’ya want?” He spat, glowering. The woman looked completely unperturbed. She put a finger to her lips and spoke but one word,
“Genevieve.” His eyes widened in surprise and he stepped backwards to allow her entrance. With a grand, sweeping gesture, he turned her in the right direction. The bar was a converted house, more of a party-place than a café. What used to be the “great room” now served as the actual bar, and the living room was the dance floor. This was her destination. Discarding her coat, she moved towards the music. The room was tightly packed with young people dancing. The woman quickly scanned the crowd. They were the usual junkies and wannabes, clothed in leather so tight it was like a second skin, leaving little to the imagination. Most of them had their hair up, exposing necks with bites both new and old. There was only four other actual vampires in the room, as far as she could sense. But that didn’t matter. She wasn’t here for them. She noticed a young man leaning against the wall, looking quite lost. It must be his first party, she thought, licking her lips. She caught his eye and gave him a lazy half-smile, exposing sharply pointed canines. She despised doing that. Only the newly dead flashed fang. But it caught his attention. Something akin to fear flashed across his eyes, but was hurriedly replaced by blankness. She took that as an invitation to go to him. Her natural, floating gait was replaced by a more normal saunter. It wouldn’t do to scare him too much at first. But it seemed to do the trick. His eyes were fixed on her swaying hips, and slowly moved up to her chest. By that point, she had reached his side.
“Good party…” she purred into his ear, touching his shoulder lightly. Her eyes flicked to his neck. No scars. She felt her hunger build. The young man fidgeted nervously, so she restrained herself and backed away ever so slightly.
“Yeah, I guess.” He replied, not quite sounding convinced. She twirled a strand of chestnut hair around her finger, looking at the floor. She appeared, to the average onlooker, to be just another wallflower.
“Is this your first party…?”
“Jaren. And yes, it is. Why, is it obvious?” He asked, voice rising in panic. Her laughter flowed along his skin like cream, buoying him up.
“Yes, if you must know. It is.” Jaren’s cheeks held the faintest of blushes at her slightly mocking tone, but he looked her in the eye with a sudden burst of confidence. Bad idea. She released her power, drawing him into her seemingly never-ending pools of ice. Jaren felt a soothing comfort wash over him. He was safe with her, he thought. All he had to do was look in those eyes to see that she would protect him. He felt himself drop to his knees, clutching her dress.
“Take me,” he whispered, shaking, overcome by her power. Still he held her gaze, leaving his neck bent upwards at an awkward angle. She had him. She was in complete control.
“Get up, my pet.” She soothed, beckoning with a finger. He scrambled to his feet, never once looking away. Not that he could if he wanted to. She was one of the most powerful vamps in the city. She could play mind games with the best of the best, and still win. He didn’t know this, of course, or he wouldn’t have been stupid enough to look her in the eyes. Grasping his trembling arm, she led him through the doorway and into the hall. Narrowing her eyes, she located the outside door. Stepping over the people collapsed over the threshold, she breathed a sigh of relief. Darkness. At last. The silence seeped into her bones as soon as the door shut again. They were alone in the alleyway…for now. Feeling her hunger build, she threw her human prey against the wall. He smashed into it violently, though it did not render him unconscious. She broke her power over him, and pure terror returned to his eyes. She licked her lips, which started him trembling until his whole body shook again. No one would come for him, because that’s what these parties were about: the vampires, the blood. She stalked towards him, arms outstretched until they touched his chest. He whimpered.
“My, my. Only a moment ago you were begging me to take you. Why such a change?”
“No…I don’t want…”
“Don’t want what, my dear? The pleasure of my company?”
Jaren couldn’t reply. He just stood there, fear for his life naked on his face. She only laughed. Brining his face close to hers, she whispered,
“Consider yourself lucky.” That seemed to be the last straw. As only an animal in its last throes of life can do, Jaren struggled with a strength he didn’t have. Flailing wildly, he swung his arms at her face. She was completely unaffected, though now her eyes were cold as stone.
“You cannot hurt me. I am already dead.” Sobbing now, Jaren sunk down the wall, landing with a thud on the freezing ground. She smiled. He was broken. Now, for the fun part. She got down on her knees and crawled towards him, placing her hands on his knees as a mother would a child. She lowered his legs and slid on top of his thin form. Gently, almost caressing his face, she moved his head so his tender neck was exposed. Then, with a violent twitch, she lunged at him, fangs sinking deeply into his flesh. Jaren screamed, writhing in pain. Playing her tongue along the wound, Gen licked the blood, savouring the tangy, metallic taste. She squeezed it in her teeth, forcing the blood out faster. Her nails dug into his sides mercilessly until his jacket was ripped to shreds, his skin raw and bloody. The blood was not coming fast enough. She could feel it welling beneath the skin, but still it wouldn’t come. Screeching in anger, she sank her fangs into him once more, and ripped. With a sickening sound, his throat tore out and blood gushed forward in waves of crimson. She buried her face in his rich arteries, sucking like one would from a straw until she could hold no more. Pulling back, she stood as his lifeless form slumped forward, hiding his gaping wound. She licked the blood off her face in ecstasy. She hadn’t meant to kill him, but she didn’t feel the tug of guilt. One less human in the world. Oh, well. Just as she was about to go back through the door, she sensed something. Not another vampire, but something not quite human. She turned around slowly. It was a dog. The “dog” in question stalked towards her, and it was only then that she noticed the top hat. A dog wearing a top hat. How very…odd. She narrowed her eyes. It was definitely not a dog…
“An Euclide, actually.” The canine responded, its voice rich and sweet as honey, and slightly off-kilter. But Gen could sense an underlying danger. She was a master of mind games, and she had a feeling that this creature was as well. Its body was completely white, except for the bold black markings adorning its legs, face, and tail.
“An Euclide. And what brings you here?”
“I was enticed by the smell of blood.”
Gen pulled back her full lips to reveal fangs for the second time that night. The creature seemed unperturbed.
“You need not show me those, vampire, I know what you are.” She scowled. She had expected as much. She stepped forward, instead, almost defensive.
“Are you also a blood-sucker…?”
“I prefer the flesh along with the blood, but, in essence, yes.”
She licked her lips again, observing this…Euclide.
“You are finished with your kill, fanged-one, so let me enjoy the taste of young flesh, as well,” he cajoled, his voice rolling over her ears like bitter sugar. She lowered her gaze to Jaren’s body.
“As you wish…” “Kujon.” The creature replied smoothly as he moved with lithe grace towards his prey. She watched with fascination as he tore a chunk of flesh from Jaren’s stomach, allowing the gory entrails to spill out. For such an elegant creature, she had expected him to be a dainty eater. Instead, he ripped apart the human with a ferocious hunger. She was beginning to like him. When he had finished, she swept her hand out towards the road.
“Shall we leave this place now that we are…finished our meal?” She asked, eyes flicking to the body, or what was left of it. The canine growled low in his throat in response, tail flicking. She couldn’t quite figure out why she didn’t think of it as strange to be speaking with such a creature. Maybe it was because she could sense a lurking evil power within him that was akin to her own. Or maybe it was just because he liked his blood as much as she did. Either way, she allowed him to lead her to the building next the rowdy bar. She had never paid attention to the abandoned theatre before now. But it was a monstrous old building. She reached out a hand to touch the walls compulsively and felt the coolness of the marble against her skin. The walls were etched with gold and flecks of grey and intricate murals marked the front doors, a pair of heavenly cherubs floating above a gypsum birdbath. A fancy sign hung above the doorway: “Euclide Theatre”.
“No, I can’t!” The canine spoke with sudden fervour. She turned to him, momentarily confused.
“Can’t what?”
“Yes, yes, I know, I know…” the creature muttered, eyes rolling back into his head. “If you say so…” he growled, swaggering across the street. Gen watched him go, frozen to the spot. Who in all of hell had he been speaking to?
“He’s Insane,” came a male's voice from behind the doors to the Theatre. She looked back, narrowing her eyes. Whoever was speaking was powerful, indeed. She was intrigued. Who were these creatures? And what did this Theatre have to do with them? She had a feeling she was going to find out. “Come in, vampire, you are welcome here.”
