The City

by Rachael Byrd

  The other girl was much shorter. Her skin was almost as dark as Talon's, browned by pure sunlight and untainted by undeath. Her hair was short, ending in a straight line above her shoulder. It was somehow both black and orange; a layer of cool black could be seen through the glittering veil of deep burnt orange that covered it. Her eyes were a deep, fresh green and met Intrigue's eyes without flinching. Her bright red lips were parted in a knowing smile, sharply contrasting against her olive skin and brilliant white teeth.

  Her incisors were too short to belong to a hunting vampira, too sharp to indicate that they'd been blunted, and too long to be human. She was a half-vamp, although whether she was healing or wasting away was not immediately evident. There was a pure beauty about her, a sliver of sunlight spread like warm butter beneath her skin, and her lips were smooth and full, but her eyes were faintly lined with red, bloodshot, and rimmed by dark circles. She beckoned to Intrigue, the broad sweep of her arm encompassing the thronging mass of vampires behind her.

  Intrigue turned and whispered a quick command in Crow's ear, then sprinted for the front. She reached the entrance just in time to catch an elderly pair of vampires, their wrinkled skins sagging around swollen, puffy lips, and force them back through the door.

  As frightened as the mass was by the conflagration behind the building, the stake-wielding Chaotic was infinitely more convincing. The scent of Angel's blood on the stake was one most of them recognized. In the fear of the moment, Intrigue might have been the Angel of Death, ascended from Hell to complete the death of all of Angel's followers, for what other entity could wield a weapon polished in the blood of the greatest leader of the undead? The vampires stampeded for the back door.

  Intrigue rushed back into the rapidly emptying room, swinging her stake again and again. She made no effort to aim for their hearts; most of them would die this night whether or not she managed to stake them. Still, a considerable number collapsed into heaps of dust and ash and she felt a savage joy with each wild swing.

  The last of the herd made it through the back door, and Intrigue was glad to see the semi-undead girl had managed to herd most of them toward the pyre. Intrigue stretched her legs, pushing herself for more speed, and she managed to drive the rest of the vampires into the blaze. She leapt in after them, immune to the flames.

  The vampires were drunk; their bodies were flooded with human blood and highly combustible liquor. Their veins exploded, their hearts detonated, their blackening faces charred and peeled. She stuffed the stake back into the pocket of her shirt and grabbed a flaming board from the mess. Instinctively dodging the hottest parts of the flames, she rushed through the burning building; over it, under it, and straight through the heart, plunging the burning weapon through vampire heart after vampire heart, howling in furious joy as she freed soul after soul.

  At last, the fire died down and Intrigue stepped out of the ruins unscarred. Talon, Crow, and the girl stood together, watching silently as she approached them. Asylum was silent. Business might continue as usual the next night, but Intrigue had insured that many of the usual patrons would not be around to enjoy it.

  "You're a Chaotic.” The girl's voice was blunt, unquestioning.

  "Are you?"

  "I'm not dead yet. Who are you?"

  "Intrigue. Who ... and what? ... are you?"

  "My name is Caele. I'm almost healed now.” Caele tilted her chin to reveal twin scabs like thorns on the side of her throat. The scabs were healing but the infection beneath them was a virulent, angry red. “My Chaotics don't like me spending too much time here."

  "Your Chaotics?"

  "There are a few of them; we've banded together for safety. The independent ones have no chance. Still, though, I'm afraid.” Caele ran her hand back through her hair. “It's all I can do to keep from searching out a true vampire—one bite, just a nibble, and that's it for me."

  "You'll never know how lucky you are to have a chance to go on living,” Intrigue murmured.

  "I don't feel lucky. You must never have gone through this."

  "True enough,” Intrigue admitted. “Angel took me quickly.” She paused to glance at the smoldering remnants. “I'd like to meet your Chaotics."

  Caele nodded. “I'll take you to them."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  18

  Melissa moaned softly and rolled over beneath the jeweled netting that surrounded the bed. She opened her eyes and looked toward the unshaded window. Hot sunlight poured in and her head exploded with pain. She stumbled to the wall and slammed the shutters closed.

  Melissa stood there, cold, sweaty, and trembling. She was completely naked save for the sapphire necklace Angel had fastened around her throat the night before. She could think of nothing but whether Angel would come again for her.

  Melissa stumbled toward the door, picking her discarded clothing up as she did so and redressing herself. She meant to find her way down to the cafeteria and find some breakfast but the thought of food made her stomach roll over slowly.

  She was exhausted, fevered and weak, and the skin on her throat radiated a dull heat. She stumbled out of the room, down the hall. Could she find Angel's room and spend the day sleeping there? Phoenyx would be greatly displeased and Melissa would have absolutely no chance to heal.

  Melissa made her way to the vampires’ chambers, meaning to find a quiet corner and fade away for the rest of the day. She laid down on a cot and pulled an old black comforter over her wan face.

  She awoke hours later, some minutes before the general congregation of vampires would rise, and dragged herself toward the cafeteria. Melissa's mind begged her to avoid Angel but her body longed for him; her throat throbbed hotly and she could not forget the iced thrill of his fangs against her throat.

  Phoenyx was in the cafeteria, lounging in one corner of the room with a tall, narrow-mouthed glass resting against her lips. She smiled knowingly as she met Melissa's eyes. There were slits on the side of Phoenyx's throat this morning, but they were the marks of the knife.

  Melissa sat down at one of the long tables and poured a glass of the O that Angel always kept available for the vampires. She took a mouthful and then spit it back out, feeling nauseated by the lukewarm metallic tang. Phoenyx laughed from her corner.

  "Didn't he take it all? Or are you Chaotic?"

  Horrified, Melissa fled. She stumbled down the hallway toward the human slaves’ chambers, vaguely wishing for sleep. She collapsed against the floor and knew nothing for many hours.

  Melissa awoke the following evening as the sun was setting. She made her way back to the cafeteria and nibbled at some toast. As the second night progressed, though, her mind began to feel curdled.

  She left the cafeteria and made her way toward the pantry, meaning to find some rags and cleaner. A young man met her eyes in the hallway and Melissa caught his arm. He met her gaze with fear and she pulled open the closet door next to her and shoved him in.

  The boy didn't protest; he only stared at her with fear-frozen eyes. Melissa lowered her mouth onto his neck and chewed lustily until she drew blood but the flavor was bitter and nauseating. Her mind told her to search elsewhere; the human could not satisfy her. Angry, she abandoned him in the closet, unconscious and bleeding freely, his throat a mangled heap of severed tendons and leaky arteries, his limbs and stomach flayed open; she had no poison to pass on. She wandered the Den in a daze, incapable of cleaning, unable to focus.

  Phoenyx stopped her in the hall after this unfocused wandering had proceeded for several hours. “It's Angel you're lusting after, isn't it? You've got his poison in your blood.” She took Melissa's chin between two delicate fingers and tilted it. “He didn't take much ... he wanted to save you for later. He can be so selfish sometimes, don't you think?"

  Melissa didn't answer.

  "He sips at his victims, tormenting them night after night. Do you know how many he goes after each night? He finds the humans alone in their houses, the same ones until he kills them. A little
blood each night, until he's finished with them. What then?” Phoenyx cooed. “He either blunts their fangs or stakes them. It's a game for him, just a game. He hunts for himself.” Phoenyx unfastened the side of her dress.

  "I've never seen him drink a glass of blood from the Factory, but he never lets me have anything else. He's selfish, horribly and terribly selfish, and there's no cure for him.” She paused, running one long finger along the side of Melissa's throat. “You want him to come and take your blood again though, don't you? Even through the pain and misery, that's what you want."

  Feeling wretched, Melissa nodded. Phoenyx smiled wryly. “Oh, I wish you could know how many times this has happened ... but never to the former friend of a Chaotic. This is most interesting.” Phoenyx's smile widened toothily. Her fangs were long and sharp, marred only by the occasional thin strip of pale yellow, like fine ivory. “Do you want to live or die, Melissa?"

  Melissa couldn't answer; the entire focus of her mind was on Phoenyx's fingers, which still toyed with the cuts on her throat. Phoenyx led Melissa to Haven and helped her with her shirt.

  Phoenyx couldn't do what Angel had done, couldn't send Melissa's mind spiraling into a cold abyss where she would be able to die without having to consider the consequences of what she was doing, but she had fangs and that was enough. Melissa, her dying body hot with fever but still thriving with life, nipped back at Phoenyx's throat with her barely pointed incisors.

  Phoenyx took even less than Angel had taken. She wanted the fresh human blood to last many nights.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  19

  The new group of Chaotics sat quietly in the black house, waiting for someone to break the silence.

  Hawk's focus was on Talon; he recognized her from the other side of the River, but he could not bring himself to say so. He ran his fingers nervously over the flask that had recently contained AB negative. Crow shifted his weight uneasily, watching Intrigue out of the corner of his eye and wishing she hadn't been killed. Caele watched Crow, wishing that she could hurry up and heal, and a number of the Chaotics watched Caele, wishing they knew whether she was Chaotic or simply human. The group was one of wishes and unfulfilled longing; of all of them, Intrigue alone felt complete.

  The group Caele had brought consisted of four young vampiras and six vampires. One of them, a pale girl with dark hair and darker eyes, had quietly mentioned to Intrigue that Caele was plagued with fits as she recovered; rarely a night passed without Caele begging the vampires to sink their fangs into her throat. Caele's desperation had quickly grown stale with the vampires but they had allowed her to stay with them out of pity.

  The pale vampira had introduced herself as Adrienne Laevendaele. Her complexion was as creamy as vanilla ice cream, spattered with pale, peach tinted freckles. Her mouth was a smooth pink crescent, adequate but not remarkable. Her eyebrows were dark, thin and smooth and her eyelashes were long and dark.

  Carmine's eyes were a clear, warm blue and her hair was rich, hot red. Her shoulder-length tresses had been hastily pulled back into a loose ponytail; the hair was shorter toward the front and the stray hairs fell in a double crescent, perfectly framing her face. Her skin was a warm, deep peach, colored by the gentle sun only days before her death.

  Belle's hair and eyes were a common dark brown. Of the lot, she was by far the most unremarkable. She possessed a bit of beauty, but it was scarcely more than the bare minimum allotted by the kiss of death; she was virtually indistinguishable from the other vampiras.

  Tyrhennia possessed bright yellow-green eyes that were fringed by long, sooty lashes and raven hair that fell in shining cascades over her pale shoulders. Her face was an artist's fantasy of delicate features and gentle, attractive curves. Her cheekbones were high, tinged with a pale, blushing rose, and her skin was as pale as porcelain and as smooth as fine marble. Her body was long and lightweight but not lacking in sweeping curves. Her lips were full, a deep inverted arch of crimson that might have been left there by one fortuitous stroke of a painter's brush. Her eyes were perfect ovals, slightly tilted beneath thin, dark brows that arched in eternal arrogance. There was a dark beauty about her, a shroud of shadowed perfection that hinted toward damnation but did not quite affirm it.

  Adrienne shifted her weight in her seat, slightly uncomfortable with the silence. She glanced first to Intrigue, then to Hawk. “I ... perhaps one of you would explain what we are doing here? We have a refuge already, not a house like this, but nice enough to keep us safe. You have something in mind?"

  Intrigue nodded, secretly relieved that the silence had been breached. “There is still time to save The City."

  Tyrhennia's lips parted in a slight smile. “Save The City? What is it that you would have us do, Intrigue? The City needs no saviors. The vampires offer eternal life; is that not enough?"

  Intrigue's eyes narrowed, and Adrienne stopped her fidgeting. “Perhaps I misunderstood you, Tyrhennia. Are you Chaotic or not?"

  "I am Chaotic; you'll never see me tilting a human's throat, but my abstinence is a matter of choice, not one of condescension. I dislike the flavor of human blood, but I think our brethren are perfectly justified in taking their fill. Why not offer immortality to all? I have long said that we, as Chaotics, should band together. We should stay out of the way, offering no resistance, but no refuge, either. Our safety lies in perfect neutrality."

  One of the boys stood suddenly, his lavender eyes flashing. “Undeath is not freedom to enjoy immortality. Undeath is damnation. You're separated from the true savior—perhaps we all are by now, who can say whether the Lord discriminates among those with fangs?—and when you die, you're headed straight for the Hells that spewed the first seeds of vampirism."

  "Sit down, Jonathon. You believe that because that's what they've been feeding into your mind since birth. If any of you would open up your minds, you would see that vampirism is truly a gift—"

  "No, Tyrhennia.” Adrienne was clutching her knees, her knuckles white. “You're wrong. We've discussed this before, and—"

  "We've not discussed anything, Adrienne. You and your cohorts have dictated to me that if I am to abstain from the blood which is loosed from the throats of men, I am to offer up to you my free thinking as a sacrifice—"

  "We will make no sacrifices of mind here, Tyrhennia."

  "Cash, I don't know what your problem is—"

  "My name is Kshatriya, Tyrhennia. You are becoming my problem. Jonathon was worried about you from the day you brought your ashen face into our home; he did not believe you to be who you claim to be.” The vampire's eyes gleamed dark as obsidian beneath his mess of dark red-brown hair that stopped a hair's breath from being black. His gaze was direct, unfaltering, and Tyrhennia wavered.

  "Who I claim to be? And what is it that I claim to be?"

  "One of us."

  "Leave her alone.” All eyes flicked to Belle for a moment as she spoke. “The question here was not of Tyrhennia's loyalty or of her goals. What are we going to do?"

  Intrigue pulled her shoulders taut. “I plan on doing my best to push back the disease falling over The City. We may be few, but they are afraid of us."

  At this, Tyrhennia opened her mouth to protest, but Intrigue cut her short. “The marks of human religion have little to no effect on us. I believe we can still be healed so long as we do not drink human's blood. After that—” She glanced apologetically at Hawk, hoping that she was wrong. “After that, I believe we would be damned."

  Hawk regarded her quietly, his deep olive eyes dry of tears but still swollen from his last drink. “That's not accurate, Intrigue. Their symbols won't hurt you unless you bite a human or take blood without reason."

  Intrigue frowned but remembered watching Hawk had hurling a crucifix into Angel's desecrated chapel after her frightened escape. “We are stronger than they, nonetheless.” She paused. “A lot of them seem to have progressed to a point beyond thought, beyond understanding. I don't know why, but that's what I saw in the eye
s of every transporter in Angel's den."

  "It's because the full extent of the disease is just now beginning to hit The City."

  Adrienne wheeled, staring at the boy behind her with evident surprise. “Arjuna, what are you talking about?"

  He turned his dark blue eyes on Adrienne, and Intrigue was startled into silence when she saw how hollow his gaze was, and how sunken his eyes. There were dark circles beneath his red-rimmed eyelids.

  "You've seen it, Adrienne. Tyrhennia speaks true to the best of her knowledge. If vampirism was all we had to fear, I would say forsake the humans, by all means. This world is wonderful, and one could embrace eternal perfection. It's not all, though."

  Fetching a deep sigh, Arjuna fished a round tin out of his pocket. He twisted the top off and poured a thick, amber oil into his palm, which Intrigue immediately recognized as the same lotion Angel had bathed her shoulder in; it had removed the burn of slavery. To her surprise, Arjuna began to lick at the salve. There was a brief moment of silence, as Arjuna's long, pointed tongue lashed out again and again, cleaning the lotion from his hand.

  "It's scar remover and I'm sure several of you recognized it. Miraculous substance. We know how to make it but we're not entirely sure how it works. It heals scars and burns instantly, but it also grants something else, something that vampirism would appear to provide—at first glance, at least.” Arjuna paused and directed his gaze at Caele. “Longevity of the soul. Mine grows thinner every night; the oils helped in the beginning, but ... I don't think that will last very much longer. The vampires are starting to display more and more of that now; particularly the ones who continue to have their throats bitten after their conversions."

  "Arjuna, I don't—"

  "Vampirism is a disease, and like many diseases, it may at first appear insignificant when it is, in fact, fatal. The vampires are growing worse; they are losing their souls, and so are we."