by L M Adams
I looked towards the man, my savior, with the tears streaming down my face. I didn’t want to do this, but I needed a reason to quiet the dark things. I needed a reason for the succubus to not take her blood vengeance.
His eyes were steady and clear as he looked at me. “It’s your right to hurt him, Miss Lady. But it will cost too much, I’m thinking. Leave him be, Miss Lady.”
The knife shook in my grip drawing a bit of blood, the man yelled; my blood sang at the sound of it, I wanted him to scream in pain, I wanted more.
But I looked up to the old man with pleading in my eyes, something inside of me was screaming, “Stop me!”.
“Just leave it be,” he said again with such gentleness and understanding in his eyes.
I took a calming breath and heard the truth in his words. If I did this thing I’d be no better than her. So I pulled the knife back and slashed the scum across the meat of his ass, deep, sure to leave a scar. Depriving myself of what I truly wanted, to shove the cold hard blade up his ass.
He’d screamed for me again and I felt my body rush to the edge of a climax. Goddess be, how I’d missed the sound.
But I’d gotten up and walked around to the front of him kicking him across the face so hard it flipped him over.
“The cut is so you can remember me,” I’d said but he didn’t hear me, he was already unconscious.
I dropped the knife and went to get my bag.
“I’m thinking you should come with me, Miss Lady,” the old man said, holding out his hand to shake mine. After a moment I’d walked over to him, taking it.
“Name’s Ernie.” I’d opened my mouth and closed it drawing a blank, not knowing what to call myself. I took my hand from his and started to turn away.
“It’s fine, Miss Lady. Every man… or woman… has a right to their secrets," Ernie said. "Come on now, let’s get some food.”
I’d stood there not knowing what to do. Maybe he was setting me up to rape me himself but then my stomach gurgled again; the orange hadn’t been enough. I could always let him take me to his food and kill him there.
I’d hefted my bag on my shoulder and followed him from the alley. It was one of the best decisions of my life.
There was a shopping cart full of scrap metal he’d left around the corner. He’d told me to toss my bag in and push. We had to work for our food, honest work. We walked the edge of the slums closest to the fringe. He told me going too deep in the slums was dangerous but was the easiest place to find good metal to sell. He’d taught me the types of metals that were worth something as we made our way to the scrap buyer in the fringe.
After he’d had it weighed and cashed it in for credits on his chip, he’d taken me to a lunch truck and bought me a corned beef sandwich, a bag of chips, and a beer and ordered the same thing for himself. We sat on a curb near the truck and ate.
After watching how I stuffed my food down my throat, he’d handed me half of his sandwich, telling me to eat it slow so I wouldn’t throw it back up.
"How long has it been since you’ve eaten?" he asked as I paused to take a sip of the delicious brew.
"Three days, maybe… maybe four." I’d answered. He’d only nodded his head, getting up and buying me another sandwich.
I looked up at him as he handed it to me. I’d felt ashamed that I’d ever thought to kill this man who was showing me such kindness. I thanked him and had taken the sandwich. I closed my eyes when I felt the small trickle of energy transfer into my Chi. I wouldn’t be able to do much in the magic department unless I let my succubus feed. But food would give me enough mojo to do glamour which is all I’d needed right then. If I’d gotten hurt, I would’ve been up shit creek; I wouldn’t be able to heal myself.
After a while I asked, “What would you have done if I’d killed that man?”
He’d shrugged his shoulder. “Nothing. It was your right. He’s taken advantage of women before, he may do it again. But I wouldn’t have invited you to come with me if you’d done that other thing. Just because something is right doesn’t make it good. If you’d done that other thing, you would’ve been past saving in my book.”
“If I’d killed him?” I’d asked.
“No, if you’d tortured him like part of you wanted to. That would have made something ugly and twisted take root in your heart. You’ll always have the seed of that ugliness. It’s the price of what was done to you. But you can fight it keep it from taking root and growing inside you. You can still choose to be a good person. I saw it in your eyes, you wanted to stop,” he’d said, giving me his old, cryptic wisdom.
“I wanted to be a good person at one time,” I’d said softly.
He nodded his head like he’d already known. “Then old Ernie will take you under his wing until you see you can still be a good person.” he’d said. “You won’t survive out here long with those looks, Miss Lady. You’re too pretty. Those eyes, that hair, dressed in those tight pants; every man and pimp for miles around will want you for their own.”
“I can fight,” I’d said defensively.
“Yes, I know that, Miss Lady. But that shouldn’t be your first choice. Try to find other ways to protect yourself. Don’t let the bloodlust have a chance to sing in your veins if you don’t have to. Not until you learn control. Otherwise, it’s nothing but food for the ugliness.”
He’d paused, taking a swig of his beer. “That’s your first lesson; your second lesson is to hide your hair with a hat, dirty yourself up a bit, wear sun glasses and baggy clothes. Maybe you won’t have to fight as much.” He’d taken another swig of his beer, looking out into the street. I’d nodded my head and taken a swig of my own beer.
He’d taught me how to survive under the radar, off the grid so to speak. For three weeks, I’d lived in the slums with Ernie. It was a great partnership. I could climb and get to pipes and wiring and metal he couldn’t reach. He’d laughed a booming laugh when I’d free scaled a building so crumbled that the stairs were gone. We walked by it one day and he’d called it the motherlode no one could reach. I’d looked at the building for a while and then swung into motion. There’d been copper piping in the upstairs bathrooms. We’d cashed in so much, we’d bought bottles of vodka and built a big fire that night. We ate and drank and laughed remembering the looks on everyone’s face as we carted in our load that day.
I wouldn’t have survived without him. I had no idea that it was illegal to be homeless. If you were caught, they would take you to the city and put you to work and yes, give you a place to live. Sure, you could leave if you could prove you had another CNAE-approved residence. But you never would be able to save enough to rent somewhere else. They took most of your pay for your room and board. It was the new ‘work works law.’ It was nothing but legalized slavery with no end in sight. Even the Kindred pays their slaves and gives them an end date, sending them off to live their lives in peace. People in the slums call the CNAE soldiers that gather up the homeless the press-gangers. We had to move around every now and again to safely stay ahead of them.
He’d taught me so much, far more than just the street knowledge, which I’d badly needed, but also for my heart.
I’d finally loosened up enough to tell him my name that night around the fire. “Jaevia” I’d said softly. “You can call me Jae.”
He’d grunted, lying down on his pallet across the fire built up and contained in a hibachi grill. "Nice to meet you, Jae.” I’d smiled. He was lovable, but scruffy all around. Had a need for vodka too, but he was my friend and I’d not judged him for it. He had me drinking the stuff too. I’d had wine back home, but this stuff went right to my head. It also helped quiet the dark things. Which I think is why he drank it, Ernie had demons of his own, which is why he understood mine so well; like recognizes like.
After a moment he started in again, “It’s a hard world when you trust no one. Give no one a chance, Jae. No, you can’t trust a lot of people. But give some a chance like I did for you. It’s taken you three weeks for you to tell me y
our first name. I got tired of calling you Miss Lady after the second day.”
I cleared my throat. If I didn’t volunteer information, he wouldn’t ask and although I tried to give him the same respect for three weeks but the question had eaten away at me. So after a bit I’d worked up the courage to finally ask him, “Why’d you help me?”
"You remind me of me daughter," he’d answered in a voice that said ask no more.
“I’m running from people,” I’d said, changing the subject.
He’d grunted again. “Yeah, I had no idea.” He was a sarcastic, scruffy bastard.
“I can’t use my chip,” I’d said, rolling my eyes at him but ignoring the sarcasm.
He’d rolled on his side then to look at me. “They’re not tracking you?”
“No, I took care of that, but I can’t have my name come up in the system just in case they're watching for it.”
“I might know someone who can do something about that. But we’ll need money and a lot of it.” He’d scratched his beard in thought.
I’d reached inside my bag and pulled out one of my gems... “Will this do?”
“Yes, Jae, I’m thinking it will.”
He’d taken me in the morning to a fellow named Rabbit. Or at least that’s what he called himself.
Rabbit lived in a basement in a house in the fringe. The entire place was taken up with computer parts and equipment. He’d reprogrammed my name to Janice Smith for an almost flawless diamond. I’d sold another one for far less its worth to Rabbit to put credits on my chip.
“Tell people to call you Jae and it’s a nickname for Janice from now on,” Ernie had said. We sat around a fire that night sipping on a bottle of cheap vodka as was our custom at that point.
“We can trust Rabbit?” I’d asked in a casual voice.
“Yes we can, he’s a friend, so don’t be thinking you can go kill him.” I’d cut eyes at him, angry cause he’d known what I’d been thinking.
“I’ll have your promise, Jae.”
“Fine,” I’d said in a huff and I’d meant it. I’d keep my promises to Ernie; always.
After a while, I’d finally broached the subject I’d really wanted to get to.
“I have more gems, Ernie. Now that I have a chip I can use, we can get a place to live. Get out the slums. The press-gangers almost caught us once already. I can find a job,” I’d said softly.
He’d only nodded his head and said he would think about it and to get some sleep. When I’d woken the next morning, he was gone. There was a letter where his pallet was the night before.
Dear Jae,
I’m not a man that wants to go back. But you are a woman that has a future. Meant for great things. We can’t help the ugly things that happen to us, we can choose to be better people than the people that hurt us. Don’t be afraid to kill if you must. Stay alive at all cost. But if you want to repay me, find love to balance the hate inside of you now. Go live, Miss Lady, and don’t worry about me. I’ll be all right.
Love, Ernie
I still have the letter I’d read it a million times, crying in that room, feeling abandoned. It was one of my most valuable belongings now. It had taken me a while to figure out why he’d left. He’d felt because I was strong enough to be on my own that I was ready to join the world again. I’d told him my desire to by asking him to come with me.
It had taken me a long time to believe I could make it on my own. I’d searched for him for three days before giving up. Hung at his usual spots, at the scrap metal place especially; but he never showed up. I finally gave up and went and rented a hotel room in the fringe. It had been time for me to move on.
I’d met Minx two days later, bumping into her, literally. I was preoccupied with reading the list of places I’d made, trying to find a place to live that I could afford. And how to find a job with not even a high school education listed on my chip.
But I wouldn’t give up; Ernie thought I was strong enough to make it. So I’d beat the pavement every day. Minx cussed me out in Spanish after I’d almost knocked her over because I wasn’t paying attention. I couldn’t afford anything remotely nice. The money on my chip had to last.
After she’d read me the riot act, she turned and asked why in such a rush in her crazy sounding English. I’d opened my mouth to lie. But maybe she could help. Ernie was always trying to get me to give people a chance and I’d smelled the jungle on her; she didn’t belong here anymore than I did. I’d known she was a supe as I’m sure she’d known I was one. So I plunged in feet first and told her I needed to find somewhere to live.
“You have the monies?” she’d asked. I nodded.
“Come. I rent you room.” I always carried my bag with me, so there was no need for me to go back to the hotel. I followed her thinking I could always kill her if I found out she was lying to me. But she’d brought me to the house.
Showing me the scanner at the front door, she explained, “Monies due on first. You scan, first day of month, monies come out, good for month. No monies, no door open for you.”
She’d shown me my room then, warning me to never go into hers. I smiled, remembering how after she explained it all, she turned into the black cat and padded down the hallway.
Slowly I’d built a life for myself. Peter was another piece of that puzzle for me. He’d been my third friend I’d made in the human world. He also helped get me the job that I’d abandoned. I know I’d whore myself to every vampire in the city if it meant his safety. And that was that. Ernie, Peter, and Minx would always have my protection and loyalty above even my own kind. Because they had loved me in spite of the evil I carry. They had given me a chance when I had needed it the most. They had taken me in when the Kindred had thrown me away.
I never told Minx, or anyone else for that matter, about my time with Ernie. Not because I was ashamed of living on the streets, but because that time is sacred to me. He’d given me the time I needed to heal. He’d reminded me that good people still existed; he’d reminded me of my strength and just been there with quiet understanding when I’d wake in the night screaming. He’d hold me until I went back to sleep and never asked one question. I owe Ernie a debt I’ll never be able to repay.
I still leave a bottle of the best vodka I can afford at the scrap metal place every now and again for him. I don’t know if he gets it. But it brings me happiness to believe that he does.
Chapter Twenty-nine
The cost of pride
“Jae, we’re here,” Jack says, shaking me from my reverie.
I clear my throat and get out of the car, looking up and down the street. There’s a bit of foot traffic in this area. I sniff the air smelling something delicious.
There’s a warehouse across the street from Wycked Lust, a tattoo place on one side, and a shop that sells all natural lotions, creams, bath stuff and the like on the other side. Wycked Lust takes up most of the block though. On the corner is a coffee shop. I lick my lips looking at it.
“We can get one when we leave, Jae,” Jack says watching me. I smile at how easily the man reads my body language and how attentive he is.
I walk over to him and take his hand in mine, just like a normal couple. I look up at the Wycked Lust sign a little closer. The top of the ‘y’ is shaped like an upside down vampire fangs, dripping blood and all, the bottom hook part is a whip coming off the ‘y’ and ending at the top of the ‘d’. The line on ‘d’ is bent over towards the circle part like its being whipped. The word lust is written in red cursive letters with little drops of blood coming off the bottom. Well this is just awesome. My succubus hums with glee and I can almost imagine her rubbing her hands together. She looks remarkably like me.
“Really, Jack? A vampire place?” I hiss low at him looking around like a vampire was going to jump out and attack me any second.
“It’s fine Jae, the owner is a friend of mine. You’ll be safe here.” He says, tugging me, ok yanking me kicking and screaming through the door. Maybe not kicking and screaming, but
I want to.
I stand in the aisle and let my eyes adjust to the indoor lighting. One entire side of the shop is filled with things that hurt or feel good. I guess it depends on who is doing the topping.
There are whips, every kind you could imagine; cuffs, dildos, crops, spread bars- all different shapes a multitude of colors. Other things that I have no idea what they are or used for. The other side of the store is filled with clothing: silk, chiffon, leather, lots of leather. It all smells expensive. It even has a small wall with shoes displayed on it. All of the mannequins are dressed in some outfit or another and all of them are in a macabre pose of some kind. Do not bring your children in here; there really should be a sign on the door.
“Margarité,” Jack’s voice rings out warmly.
I tear my gaze away from a male mannequin on its hands and knees dressed in leather pants, no shirt as another male figure stands over him wearing leather pants; the bullwhip the second one is holding is an especially nice touch.
I turn to watch as Jack embraces a vampire woman. She’s small, like most purebloods are. I can easily smell the difference in purebloods, ones that have been born with the vampire strain and then completed the blood rites to become full bloods, and those that were human and have been turned by the Dracula strain. Purebloods smell more cinnamony and usually came in smaller packages. Jack is one of the largest purebloods I’ve ever met. I’ve never asked why they don’t come in large sizes.
She’s not nearly as powerful as my Jack; no way can she go out in the sun, not without a spell. I turn and look at the windows of the shop.
Hmm, they must filter the UV rays from the sunlight coming in them. I turn back, looking at her.
She has dark hair and a pretty face; I can’t make out her eye color because her pupils have gone all metallic black with swirls of metallic blood red. She rubs on Jack seductively and a burst of cinnamon and dark chocolate come from their direction. A rush of anger fills me, borderline rage. He steps back from her and looks at me, his smile vanishing as he sees my face.
