Zack opened the door. John examined him. Checking all the little details a father could. John noticed Zack's fly was undone. He coughed, looked down at Zack's pants and back to him.
“What?” Zack checked his pants. He immediately found the open zipper. “Oh, right. Thanks.” Zack fixed it and straightened his pants at the belt line.
“You look good son.” John complemented. “What’s the name of the club?”
Zack didn't answer, his face blank. He knew he had the flier somewhere in his room. Possibly under the stack of video games he was playing the day before.
John noticed Zack didn’t really know. “It's Club Sauger.”
“What? How do you know what the name of the club was?” Zack was confused on how his dad knew this obscure and most convenient fact when he didn't.
“Your friend Ron told me to not let you forget when he called recently. He said he had a feeling this might happen.” John told Zack. Everyone seemed to know Zack a little too well. John pulled on Zack's pant leg.
Zack wasn't wearing socks.
“You own socks, I know because I bought a new pack for you last week. Go back and put them on.” John ordered Zack.
Zack turned to finish getting dressed to his father's standards. John whistled a game show theme while waiting. He was quirky that way.
* * * *
On the top floor of a nearby hotel, a tall young woman was lacing up the half-corset of a rather unique outfit. The room was dark, nothing was cast in any great detail. The shadows letting only shades of gray hues escape to the naked eye. Her long back was fully exposed, the shape of a white angel's wing tattooed across the right side. Its detail was soft, due to the cascading distant street lights pouring in from the open windows. A single light from the hall shed a small glimmer of her true figure. She was a vixen in black, if only in shape. She had long black hair gathered over her bare chest, covering any angle from indecency by view of the wide windows amongst the apartment. Her face was beautiful, that of a teenage goddess. Shimmering blue eyes glowed from behind her straight flowing hair. Her oval face that of a movie star. Light, sunless skin, well attuned to the variety of dark hued clothing she was embellishing graced her body. A knock on her open door was answered by no one as a young man in a black suit walked in.
The young man spoke from the shadows that spread from the hallway lights into the apartment. His face shielded in darkness. His voice was young, impatient. “Remember, you were the one that asked me for this assignment. He is a target, nothing more, nothing less.”
The gorgeous half dressed girl answered, now sitting on the edge of the dark living room sofa. “I know he's supposed to be the next incarnation of a demon, but look at him.” Her voice astute yet solicitous. She pointed to a black and white photo partially hidden by the poor ambient light. “He's only a boy. No older than you when you were turned.”
“And look how far I've come in two hundred years. Have you forgotten the story of the child that succumbed and awakened the demon? Seven thousand years meant nothing against merely ten years of pure blood lust in its hands. He holds the polar opposite of a true god in his flesh. Remember why you're doing this, why he needs to die.” The young man spoke with purpose and urgency. He believed what he was saying, that this boy's death was necessary. “He is a monster, remember that.”
“I know, it's to save humanity and all. Kill the teenager and save the world or some appalling shit like that. But seeing his face, he's so innocent. He's just a kid.” She raised the photo, examining it with detail. “You're sure Marin will follow through with the assassination order if this all goes bad. You're sure I won't have to do it?” She tied up the corset, lacing it in front. It exposed her delicate arms completely. A white shirt acted as a slip to the black corset over top her skin.
“Of course. I'd never ask my own daughter to kill someone I was responsible for. However, contractually speaking, you are the one signing on the dotted line for this. If, for some reason Marin doesn't follow through, then it will fall back on you to cause an accident leading to his immediate demise. At the very least you'll be required to give him some bad advice that could be potentially fatal. At the most, you will have to end his life.” The figure in the doorway stepped into the room and opened the kitchen's refrigerator. The light illuminating his face, he was a young boy himself, no older than fourteen. His short dark hair appeared black in the dim light. He took out a glass of dark red liquid and placed it on the breakfast bar counter. He closed the refrigerator door.
“What do you mean? An 'accident'? Are you serious? Should I tell him he can walk on water and try to drown himself to death? Or some other outlandish attempt like that?” She laughed as she slid a black partially laced stocking up her right leg.
The boy returned to the archway next to the hall. “No. I mean that if you are placed in a position where you have vital information about a current situation, you could possibly tell him to travel down the wrong path instead of the safe path. That's all.”
The young woman pulled the left stocking up. “And about my background?” She unfolded a long white slip.
“Two of your regulars are already set up to play along as friends, but I doubt he'll have the guts to walk up to them after he sees you. I shudder to think he'll be able to move away from you. You make a very convincing sixteen year old.” He swirled the glass, preparing to drink it.
“I'm only as young as I can afford to be, you know that more than any one, David.” She put the white slip on.
“I told you to call me father, Kyli. Sometimes I think you are your mother. You're so similar after all.” David replied.
“But I'm not a drug addict, dad.” Kyli unfolded a long black skirt.
“You're correct as always.” David continued to swirl the glass in his left hand.
“So he's not going to suspect me at all? This will be nothing like the last time, will it?” Kyli stepped into the opening of the skirt while on the ground.
“No, he's book smart, not street smart. I do want to warn you though, he's quite intuitive for his age. He hasn't turned and he's already feeling people out. So don't get on any subjects that are close to home, got it. Stick to the script and everyone will go home happy and alive.” David popped the closed top and sipped from the glass.
“Except for him, right. Everybody lives and he gets to be the one that picks up the check at the end of the party. Payable upon death for the greater good, right? What a fate for an unknowing random kid. To be the host to a demon of all things and he doesn't even know it yet. Poor Zack Giver.” Kyli pulled up the skirt and zipped the side.
“It's sad, but necessary. His death will protect billions in the end. We just have to document it and let their man do the rest.” David slammed back the remainder of the glass. His lips slightly splashed with a dark red color. David's left hand wiped away the rest as he turned back into the hallway.
Kyli gazed at the photo of Zack as she put it down on her coffee table. “Too bad, he's cute.”
* * * *
Zack planned his route with the bus schedule and told his dad that he’d be back around 10pm. Zack arrived at the stop. It was partially filled with people from all ages mingling about. There was a small group of five slightly older kids pushing around a younger one in the distance. Zack knew that he had a little time. He wandered over to check it out.
Five guys were bullying a middle schooler. From what it sounded like, they wanted money from him. A cell phone, an mp3 player, a portable gaming system, something of value that the kid didn't actually have. Zack had stumbled upon a grade school mugging. The five guys looked like they were in a gang from the area. They were definitely in high school. Zack recognized a school sweat shirt on one of them.
As Zack approached, one of the bullies called out to him. “Hey! Turn the hell back and get lost!” The kid had a short buzzed hair cut, like the rest of them. A gray hooded shirt, and white high tops.
Zack knew what was going on and he didn't like it. Somewhere
deep inside him, he wanted to stop this from happening, he wanted to protect this innocent middle schooler from getting his ass kicked. Zack played dumb. “What? What was that?” Zack stepped closer. He knew exactly what the guy had said.
“You know him?” Another one of the bullies asked Zack. “You know this kid?”
“Yeah, he's my little brother's friend. Is he in some kind of trouble?” Zack said the wrong thing.
The two bullies immediately pulled Zack forward. They held him by the arms and drug him to the rest of the group. They pushed him down on his knees. Another gang member frisked Zack for anything valuable in his pockets.
“Hey, what the hell are you doing?” Zack spoke up.
The larger high schooler in a white sweat shirt punched Zack in the left side of the face. He went down as they forced his face to the ground. Zack was regretting his decision.
“We're takin' what you got. You have a problem with that?” The other bully asked with an attitude. He was dressed in black with dark blue jeans on. The lack of light hid their faces well being so far away from the bus stop lights.
Zack thought they were smart to pick the location and that he was dumb enough to walk into it. Zack's left cheek was being pressed into the road by one of their white high tops. Zack looked over to the middle schooler. He was small, round, and about eleven. He was crying his eyes out. “Please don't hurt me anymore. I don't have any money. I've got nothing, I'm poor. Please, just let me go.” The small boy's voice cracked, straining under the stress of the situation.
Zack looked back at the two bullies in front of him. “Hey I don't have anything either, but I'm not going to let you beat this kid up. Let him go and do what you want to me instead.” Zack was standing up for his morals and it was about to get him killed.
The small gang didn't know what to think. They stopped kicking the young kid. Zack was acting as if he knew the young boy just to get him off the hook. A noble, admittedly stupid act. Even though he was a complete stranger, Zack felt this was the right thing to do. The thugs looked at the one guy in the blue jeans, not knowing what to do next.
“So? I don't have all day, I've got a bus to catch. What's it gonna be?” Zack pressed them for an answer while they held him on the gravel median next to the road.
The larger bully in white huffed and squinted his eyes at Zack. “Go ahead. Let him go. We'll take out our frustrations on this guy instead. We'll make sure he gets to where ever the hell he's going with a few extra colors.”
The gang let the middle schooler go. The kid ran away crying and flailing his arms. The five gang members immediately turned to Zack. For the next seven minutes, they kicked the crap out of Zack. In a sick twist of irony when the bus came, the gang was the one that hailed it for Zack. They walked him to the steps and shoved Zack onto the bus. He stumbled up the stairs and walked onto the bus with a busted lip, a black eye, and some bruises. The gang promptly ran off as the doors closed.
“Hey kid, are you alright?” The old bus driver asked Zack. His beard thick and worn. His light blue jumpsuit contrasted his silvered hair. He was concerned for Zack.
“I'll live.” Zack replied. His lip bleeding from the left side. He stumbled in and sat down in the middle of the bus on the passenger side.
Zack rode the bus and got out four blocks from the club. He walked slowly there. Taking his leisure. Zack was tired, only wanting to sit and enjoy a little peace for himself after what happened. Zack's left cheek was swollen and turning purple as he walked up to the doorman.
The black door was a welcome sight behind the very large bouncer. It was decorated with simple tones of red, gray, black, and the occasional strips of white. The actual dimensions of the club were misleading. The club had bought out the space adjacent and bricked up the only door. They demolished the wall between and used both lots as one combined area. They had dancing, arcade games, drinks, food, and billiards. The very thing Zack had come to watch. The idea of seeing two people think out each shot was fun to him. It calmed Zack's mind, especially through times of stress. It was something he needed.
“One of those days?” The tall bouncer asked Zack, looking at his busted lip and face. The man's muscles were larger than his head. He was wearing a black tank top with a painted white skull on it. Black faded pants with silver chains and piercings on them. A single black and orange Mohawk topped his head. Zack had clearly arrived at the right place.
“Yeah, you could say that.” Zack replied with a nod. He fished out a ten dollar bill he had in his sock and gave it to the bouncer.
The large man waved off the money. “Just promise to buy a drink at the bar and we'll call it even. Looking at your face, you seem like you could use a break.” He undid the velvet rope barring the black door. “And ask the bartender for a bag of ice. Tell him Bret said it was okay.” The bouncer felt sorry for Zack.
Zack went directly to the bar. “Soda.” Zack put down a five dollar bill.
“You sure that's all?” The bar tender asked Zack. His suave appearance insulting to Zack's split lip. He had black wavy hair down to the end of his ears, it was shuffled about his face. He had a soul patch of facial hair. The bartender was wearing a white and teal vertically stripped shirt that somehow suited him.
“Yeah, Bret said I could have some ice.” Zack spoke up, tending to his lip. “And a napkin.”
“Sure.” The bartender gave Zack a white cloth napkin with ice, then a large soda with a straw.
Zack found his way to an empty table a few feet from the bar. It had two stools and it was near the middle of the room. Zack sat down at the closest. He placed the ice against his lip and left cheek. Blood populated the cloth napkin instantly, staining the once pure fabric.
Inside, black and red were the main themes of the club. There were a few things lighter, but not many. The patrons followed suit, dressing in intricate Gothic designs and dark clothing. Zack could spot at least five pairs of fairy wings from his table alone. In comparison, Zack’s dark gray, long sleeve shirt almost seemed too bright to be wearing for the venue. There was an even blend of men, women, girls and boys mixing and joining up throughout the busy room. The house lights were still up. It surprised Zack so many people were having fun with the lights up. The club was filled, but not full. Most of them were on the dance floor, swaying to a Scott Peeples remix. Zack instantly recognized the video game it was from. It was a solid trance beat that made Zack feel relieved.
There was no pool table.
Zack was bummed. He began to sulk, sipping his soda. Zack pressed the ice to his face. He thought he was going to at least appear to have a purpose in watching a pool game. Without that one center of attraction, he had no real reason to be there. Not that it was a solid reason to begin with. Now he was only a lonely person in a crowded teen bar. Zack was so self-absorbed in his banal life that when a tall beautiful girl came up to him, he didn’t notice.
“Hi, what’s your name?” A light, smooth, sensual voice spoke under the music and over Zack's shoulder.
Zack didn’t turn around. He was too busy complaining in his own head to realize that a tall, young, five foot eight girl about his age was talking to him. Her hair long, straight and black, blue stunning thin eyes and a perfect ovaled face sat atop her elegant slender neck and body. She was pulchritude in flesh.
Zack looked into the distance to see two girls patiently waiting to see what might happen next. Zack was unaware of why they kept peering his way. Both of them were dressed as dark fairies with black lace wings, white satin dress shirts, and short black, pleated skirts.
Zack still hadn’t seen the vivacious girl standing close to his left shoulder. Feeling ignored, the girl reached out with her thin, white polished fingers, and put her hand on the back of Zack's.
“Hey, what’s your name?” The tall young girl asked again.
A light scent slowly made its way to Zack. After the girl had extended her hand to him, it was apparent. It was mellow at first, yet entrancing enough to catch Zack's full atte
ntion with one inspiration. Zack shifted his eyes left to meet just below the line of the girl's shoulders. She was wearing a black halter style corset with blue ribbon interlaced across a thin white ruffled undershirt that hid a hard to hide voluptuous figure. There were no sleeves on her shirt, the fabric stopped at the edge of her corset, at the shoulder. A black lace & ribbon choker held a rather large all-pink heart-shaped buckle at the base of her throat. A long layered black skirt contrasted the rest of her ensemble, showing only the girl's ankles and the black mid heel shoes she was wearing.
Zack’s gaze had stopped at the girl's prominent chest. He had paused for a moment. Zack was about to speak, he was about to say something along the lines of telling her to go away or to leave him in peace, but he didn’t. He sat there and stared at her clothes. He told himself that he was just staring at her clothes. Her soft hand still on his, Zack drew his attention to the milky light skin on the girl’s arm.
Impatient, the girl took hold of Zack's chin and pointed his face up to hers. She smiled, her face scrunched in a half upset manor. “I’m up here.”
Zack slowly realized where he had been staring. “Yes, you are.” Zack was dazed. He couldn’t look away. This young woman had a glow about her. It was commanding and seductive, sensual and captivating. She was a beneficial vicissitude in Zack's situation. There was a distinctive smell that was intoxicating. It was welcoming. Zack finally placed the aroma. The scent of cherries and lavender swayed over her soft skin. They were two of Zack’s favorite smells. It was very inviting to him. This girl was nothing like any other girl he'd ever seen. Zack remembered what his dad had said about first impressions that night. Zack felt he was about to eat his words.
Demon Vampire (The Redgold Series) Page 3
