B007XKEWAE EBOK

by Lawson, Nicola

  She turned on the nearest minion. "What is that?"

  "Mistress." The minion said looking at his feet. "He was snooping around. Some of us took care of him."

  Gabriella skipped over to the remains and turned them over. "So here you are?" she said.

  "What is it, my sweet? Who have they eaten?" she asked.

  Gabriella turned the body over to show the hint of a uniform under dark black blood.

  Francesca laughed. "So that's what happened to our friendly neighbourhood security guard."

  She turned back to the vampire. "Dispose of the remains far from here. We don't need people poking their noses into our business looking for him."

  Chapter Eight

  Fulton walked up to the main entrance and the pair of burly vampire doormen stepped across to cover his path.

  "Show us your pass," The one on the left said.

  Fulton thought quickly. He had no idea what the pass was but he couldn't imagine vampires going to the printers to get any made up. No, a pass to get into a vampires club would probably be something a lot easier for vampires to remember. Fulton looked the left side doorman in the eye and let his face morph into his terrible vampiric countenance.

  The doorman nodded and they both stepped aside. "Have a nice night."

  Fulton stepped through the doors into a personal nightmare. He hated being a vampire. He hated everything about them. But in here it was a celebration of vampirism.

  It was dark and gloomy. Some sort of rock music played from hidden speakers. There was a stage on the opposite end of the large room where instruments waited for a band to play. The backdrop of the stage consisted of a huge velvet curtain red like blood and spattered with darker patches of what had to be real dried blood.

  Dark velvet curtains, this time in a rich purple, covered much of the walls and the interior of the blacked out display window. None of the walls were bare. They were covered in an eclectic mixture of old fashioned weapons. Swords, axes and spears along with others Fulton could not name. Where they weren't covered in velvet or weaponry there were cages bolted to them, with human victims trapped inside.

  Other cages hung from the ceiling. As Fulton watched a vampire lowered the cage to the ground. It was rapidly surrounded by a crowd of vampires and when it was raised up again the human inside had been shredded by dozens of sets of fangs. The victim remained bleeding from sliced veins and arteries spraying the crowd below with blood.

  Well over a hundred vampires danced on the floor. There were no inhibitions in this place and some of the dancing that was going on could only be described as explicit. After a few minutes of watching Fulton noticed that when the moves got to a certain stage the couple, or more, involved would head out of a doorway to the side. This was watched by another well built vampire who only let couples or groups through. Fulton had casually approached and he saw a lone vampire walk up to the door.

  "No watching," The well built vampire said. "Find a partner."

  At random intervals vampires would return through the door and rejoin the party. More often than not they abandoned the partners they returned with and moved on to another.

  The rock music cut off as the band emerged onto the stage. They were all vampires and a raucous cry went up from the crowd as they started playing. The gloom was broken by the rhythmic pattern of strobe lighting. The dancers now seemed to be moving in slow motion as they revelled to the music.

  Fulton mingled with the outskirts of the crowd as he scoped out the interior. There were more vampires than he had expected, and that was only on this one floor. The layout of this level didn't provide many places of cover so when he didn't see Francesca in here it wasn't like there were many places she could be hiding.

  But Fulton needed to have a look at the other floors which he had to assume could be accessed through the guarded interior door. Francesca could still be up there.

  Fulton sniffed the air. There was something amiss that he couldn't quite place. He could smell vampires. He could smell freshly spilled blood, the air was thick with it. And he could smell the humans in the cages stinking with fear. But there was something else.

  Fulton took another sniff of the air and another. He could smell more humans than just those in the cages. He could smell many more, and they weren't afraid. They were aroused.

  Fulton looked across the crowd again, this time using his nose as well as his eyes. Now he saw them. Outnumbering the vampires there was a vast number of vampire wannabees. Some of them fitted the stereotype; Gothic dress and pale face make up except for black rings around their eyes and black lipstick. Some had extensions on their teeth to mimic fangs and some drank blood from wine glasses and golden goblets. Others were dressed more normally but they all fawned over vampires. They had absolutely no idea of what they were getting into. They thought this was something from an Anne Rice novel. They had been brainwashed by the romanticized vampires portrayed by attractive Hollywood actors or on TV. They were attracted to the scene and the myth of the vampire but had only the slightest idea of how the reality would be.

  He had to get a look upstairs. He had to find Francesca. He had to.

  Up until then Fulton had kept out of the bulk of the crowd, but now he moved into the mass of writhing bodies. He had to get upstairs and the only way to do that was with a partner, which he would be without as long as he kept himself detached. Actually, he could probably have killed the vampire watching the door but that would have served little purpose other than to have the rest of the vampire bouncers kill him in turn.

  So Fulton mingled. He had never been into the whole Goth scene to begin with, let alone one that had taken it so far and seemed to revere and worship vampires.

  He was looking out over the crowd for a potential partner when he saw another couple enter from outside. The male was a vampire and on his arm was a human girl maybe sixteen years old all kitted out in the vampire garb. So only one person needed to be a vampire to get in then, or else they let pretty young girls in regardless.

  The band finished their set and left the stage to a round of applause and they joined their fans. The pre-recorded music stayed off and a single vampire stood centre stage. He looked out over the gathered crowd and smiled.

  "Time for some more entertainment," he said. "A special treat. I know that there are some of my brothers and sisters who were there with me when this truly happened but for the rest of you, and for those of you who are human for now, we present this re-enactment."

  He paused for dramatic effect. There was a hush over the throng.

  "The crucifixion."

  The crowd erupted. The lead vampire on stage pulled the velvet from the wall behind him to reveal a large wooden cross. He beckoned off the stage and a pair of vampires in pseudo-roman armour dragged a young man up on to the platform. He wore a cloth wrapped around his lower half but no other clothes. When the trio reached the leader he placed a crown made of twisted barbed wire on the humans head and twisted it around to tear the skin. Blood trickled down the human's face and onto his chest. Their chosen sacrifice screamed with the pain and the watchers roared with laughter.

  As he scanned the multitude he saw that not all those gathered were enjoying the spectacle. A small number of people, newer arrivals who had not seen the earlier display of bloodletting, seemed to suddenly wonder what they had got themselves into.

  He found it difficult to feel any sympathy for them. Even the fantasised legends those morons believed in had to have contained something about the violent nature of the vampire existence. Or maybe not. Fantasy stories created to comfort humans too scared to open their eyes to the world around them didn't need to be based on reality.

  Not all vampires were cruel, that kind of a generalisation was like saying all black men had great rhythm or all white men make poor boxers. But as with those examples there was a reason for thinking of vampires as cruel because the majority of them were. Fulton figured it to be some by-product of the vampire lifestyle. They were violent by nature and
given their greater strength and overall superiority over humans, plus the fact that they had to eat them, it made humans seem unimportant as people. They saw them as livestock, nothing more. Over time whatever goodness a vampire had vanished as they grew into feral beasts. He also had suspicions that vampires only turned those they could dominate or control, or those humans who were at least bordering on the sociopathic. But these were all theories, for any actual answers he needed to find Francesca.

  Meanwhile the newly crowned sacrifice was dragged kicking and screaming to the back of the stage where the cross awaited. The lead vampire directed his servants and they used leather straps to bind him to the cross by his forearms. Another strap was pulled taut around his neck, barely stopping short of strangling the man. Yet more straps bound his legs to the cross halfway between knee and ankle.

  The helpers left the stage and another hush fell over the gathering. The lead vampire walked to the edge of the stage and received a small bundle from one of his followers. He raised the bundle above his head and let the rich plum velvet unroll. Held dandling from his raised right hand, fixed onto the velvet roll, was a wooden mallet and five blood encrusted and rusty spikes. Not that the victim would be alive long enough to worry about an infection.

  He ached to get up there and stop this barbarism. This couldn't be what he was. But Fulton waited and let it continue. His fists at his side opening and closing, over and over.

  Up on stage a single spike was pressed against the victims left wrist. Slowly the hammer was pulled back and in one smooth motion the vampire brought it forwards to slam against the end of the spike and force it through flesh and bone deep into the wooden cross.

  On stage the victim screamed.

  Each time a spike was driven in the gathered crowd cried, "Ooh!" Like spectators at a wrestling event when the competitors slap each other on the chest.

  More screams.

  "Ooh!"

  Screams.

  "Ooh!"

  Four spikes were embedded in the wooden cross through the body of the sacrifice one in each wrist and ankle. Blood wept from the wounds and the crowd was incensed. With a flourish the leader withdrew the final spike from its velvet bed and placed it to the victim’s heart.

  For the final time he drew back the mallet and hit the spike home sending it crunching through ribs and bone, through his heart into the wood. Blood gushed from the man's throat as his screams came to a sudden and permanent end.

  "Oh wow. The blood and the death gets me so horny. Want to feel?" The petite girl who had sidled up to Fulton took hold of his hand and guided it down between her legs. He pulled his hand away sharply as though burned.

  "A coy vampire, I ain't never seen one of those before," she looked up at him. "You are a vamp right? I mean you have the look, and your hand," She held it between her own slight hands. "It's so cold. You are one of the lonely ones."

  Fulton gave her a look. "I'm a vampire yes," He looked around at the crowd. "I don't feel that lonely right now though."

  "Being in the middle of a crowd of people doesn't stop you being lonely," she answered moving closer to him.

  The band had moved back to the stage with its new backdrop and struck up again. The petite woman with short cropped black hair started grinding her body to the music. She ran her hands over her short tight black dress to the tops of her stockinged thighs and back up to her cleavage. Running her fingers through her hair she ground up against Fulton.

  This was the opportunity he had been waiting for. He hoped he was not too out of practice at this that he messed up and lost her. Though the way she was using him it seemed like whatever he did she would want him.

  He started to settle more comfortably into his role. It was like undercover work he had to blend in and play his part. Fulton moved his body in time with hers putting his arms around her back he gave a jerk and pressed her even closer to him.

  "Do the thing," she smouldered.

  "The thing?"

  "You know. The vamp thing with your face."

  He willed the change to come over him. With the air ripe of blood and death surrounding them it was a simple matter.

  His partner snaked a hand up to his face and ran her delicate fingertips over the face Fulton had come to hate. She felt the bumps of his brow and traced it down to his widened and upturned nose. She took her fingers away for a moment then used a single fingertip to run down his ivory fangs. She shuddered with physical pleasure as she did so.

  "Take me upstairs," she said all breathy.

  They crossed the room pushing through the crowd. She kept herself pressed up against him even as they walked.

  The vampire doorman waved the pair through without any trouble. He gave the woman a once over and then nodded at Fulton.

  The door led to a stairway. In the corridor with the stairs was a curtained area. Fulton managed to get a peek through as a vampire walked out. Inside were several rows of cages holding gagged humans. They must have been there to replenish the cages when the humans inside were killed. Or perhaps they had some other form of special entertainment in mind that would feature these unfortunates.

  The woman with him pulled Fulton along to the stairs. "Come on," she said, her voice quavering with anticipation.

  She led Fulton up one flight. A pair of vampires and a human woman came out of the access door on the first floor and passed them heading back down stairs after doing . . . whatever they had been doing.

  "I ain't been up 'ere before," Fulton's partner told him as they pushed open the door. "You're gonna be my first vamp. My first anything," she added barely above a whisper.

  She turned to him, holding the door open just a crack, and smiled at him uncertainly.

  "Are you sure about this?" he asked her.

  That seemed to spur her on and she turned back to the door. "Of course," she said pushing the door fully open as though to prove herself.

  Fulton was shocked at what he saw inside. Maybe twenty pairs, a mixture of vampires and humans, were spread out on the level enjoying all manner of carnal pleasure. Television sets mounted on the walls with built in DVD players displayed extremely pornographic images. Other television sets were combined with video recorders and these showed the same sort of film but with vampires in key roles. As Fulton watched the scene reached a climax and the lead vampire feasted upon the female participant.

  He looked away and cast his gaze over the action unfolding in real time. There were a few beds being used by the couples or groups, there were couches being used by others and some did the business on nothing more elaborate than a rug or blanket. Those made up a little more than three quarters of the level. Randomly dispersed through the rest of the space was a diverse mixture of outlandish contraptions. Constructed from steel pipes, chains and leather straps, Fulton had no idea what a lot of them were for. One had a naked woman strapped upside down and swinging. Still he had no clue what it was for until a pair of male vampires, also nude, approached the woman.

  Fulton looked down at the woman by his side and saw her staring wide eyed at the carnival of pleasure.

  "What do you think?" he asked.

  "I . . ." she began, "It's . . . err it's more public than I imagined."

  Fulton walked her over to one side. He had checked this level out and had what he needed, Francesca wasn't here. "We can go," he offered.

  The young woman turned to look at him with dewy eyes. "I thought you wanted to . . ." she said with a sniffle. "Aren't we gonna . . ?"

  Fulton looked at her. She was so young, just a kid really. She wanted to feel like she belonged. There had to be something really wrong in her life to make her turn to this. Pity grew in him for her. How many others like her were there out there?

  "We could go somewhere else," he offered. "Somewhere a little more private."

  "You serious?" she asked hopefully.

  Fulton nodded and used his arm around her waist to steer her back to the stairs. "Come on."

  The two of them left the vampire c
lub together and Fulton walked the woman away. He wanted to be able to offer her a place to stay or to at least give her some money and a number to get in touch with him. All Fulton could do was try to persuade her to abandon this lifestyle, if she remained involved with this she would be dead before long.

  Fulton directed her into an alley and pushed her against the wall.

  "Here?" She glanced around, her eyes flicking rapidly to take in the details of the alley. "It is more private I guess."

  Fulton hated to do this. Even as the young woman ran her hands over his body Fulton took her by the shoulders and pinned her against the wall.

  "Ooh, you like it rough."

  He willed the change to wash over him and slapped her across the face, hating himself every moment.

  "You really don't get it, do you?" he growled. "You stupid little bitch. You think this is romantic. I'll tell you what I'm going to do and you can decide. I'm going to rip into your throat and drain the blood out of you. Then as you die I'll force myself on you and do you as you die. There'll be no coming back after three days for you. That isn't how it works. I'll have my fun and I'll leave your corpse to the vermin."

  Tears welled up in the woman's eyes. "Why are you saying this?" she sobbed.

  "Because this is the truth. You aren't in some novel, some story where vampires are really just misunderstood. We aren't romantic and soft inside. We want, we take, and we kill. That is how it is in the real world."

  Fulton bore his fangs. "I need to work up an appetite," he said. "Tell you what. I'll give you a ten second head start before I hunt you and kill you."

  Fulton stood back and let her go. For a heartbeat she just stood there and stared at him.

  "Ten," he said simply.

  She was moved out of her inaction and fled away into the night.

  When she was out of sight Fulton seemed to shrink down and he rested his head on the alley wall. Hopefully he had shocked her to her senses. But despite the good he might have done, the look of terror and revulsion he saw in her eyes burned into his core. He saw in her eyes the reflection of what he felt within himself every single time he had to feed.