4.16 - Groupies
I thought if I could just get some sleep, I’d be able to recover but it’s been almost a full day and I’m not feeling any better. I might be feeling worse. The wounds aren’t bleeding as much but there’s still blood leaking through the bandages and under that the wounds haven’t closed all the way yet. I’m starting to get chills and a case of the shakes from lack of blood. My already light skin is starting to look pale. I still can’t believe that psycho tried to stab me. Still can’t believe I didn’t just end him on the spot. I saw it coming, I could have moved, ripped his head clean off his neck, put a fist through his heart, sliced his throat or killed him fifty different ways. I must be getting soft. Come to think of it, I would have just killed that thrall at my father’s place a year or two ago. Maybe I’m just getting tired of violence and the stab wounds are a reminder that violence only brings more violence. No, that’s a terrible idea. Some first-year film student would write that.
I text Rita who gives me information on a party that some vampires are throwing. There’s a guy who wants the party exterminated but nobody will take the job. It’s basically suicide to run into a party full of vampires and thralls looking for a fight. I’m sure there’s guys who could take on a handful of vampires, but not a mansion full. That means it’s going to be a good place for me to get a drink. These parties are filled with vampires that want to flex their muscle or wealth, groupies who want to sleep with a vampire, idiots wanting to be thralls. Oh, and actual thralls, to clean up all the various bodily fluids.
I take a moment to decide if a red shirt or black shirt will hide any bleeding. I settle on black, just to complete the all black attire. I can’t hear Wesley as I’m leaving. Only his heartbeat, still elevated. He’s afraid. He’s been trying to be as quiet as possible. Afraid I’m going to take revenge when he least expects it. I could, but the urge just isn’t there for some reason.
Getting in my car sends a sharp pain up my side and I’m reminded of the stab wound again, as if I could forget it. I lift my shirt, just to make sure I haven’t already bled through the bandage. I spot a few drops of dried blood on the floor mats. It’s not mine, one of my victims. I’ve been careless. It’s too old for peroxide to clean up. I’ll need to get new mats, again. As I drive, I can’t help but wonder how many people I’ve killed. I used to remember the faces of all of them, now only a few pop into my head. Just the recent victims. I don’t even know how many I’ve killed in this car. I used to feel bad about killing, because I know I don’t have to. If I someone had been around to teach me how to drink the right way, nobody would have to die. There are other vampires who just kill because they can, but most don’t kill. I even heard about a vampire house in St. Louis that uses synthetic blood. Wait, why do I care? I’ve never cared about it before; the life I live is just fine. Not great, but fine. Is this because I didn’t kill Wesley, Wes or whoever is in my house? Just need to get my mind right.
The house is a baby mansion. Nothing like my father’s. You can still see the neighbor's home, but you probably can’t hear them. They might call a cleaning company, but they don’t have servants. Either some middle rank vampire or the home of a thrall. A few people hang out in the front as I make my way toward the home. The muffled music is terrible, some electronic nonsense. Vampire cliches. Just because you’re a vampire doesn’t mean you need to act like every vampire movie trope ever. I bet these losers still sleep inside of coffins. Just sleep in a bed like a normal person loser.
I give a nod to a group of vampires on the stairs; they don’t nod back. I’m sure they can tell I’m only half vampire. I used to think it was because of my skin not being white, but it’s because I have brown left in my iris, not my skin. Outside of Adze, all vampires I’ve met have black eyes, unless they’re half-blood mutts like me. They’d rather not know me. The fact that I exist kills the magic around the idea of vampires. Vampires aren’t the sexy and charming monsters above humans anymore when I show up. Just strong horny people who drink blood. The fact that half vampires exist is just proof vampires are just as horny, greedy, evil and everything else the humans they look down on are. I’m not sure which half of me I hate more; maybe they just hate each other.
The music is low in volume, but heavy on the bass. The humans here would probably like the volume turned up, but this is what works for vampires. These events are always interesting, people brought together just because we drink blood. Some are sitting around pretending they can’t eat food, watching humans gorge themselves. Those who really can't eat food have a different look on their faces, envy. A trait that many vampire circles would say is beneath us. Others are partaking in a human snack of their own. Some are thralls, some are just vampire groupies hoping to kiss enough ass that they get turned. It happens, but more often than not the vampire gets tired of them long before they're ready to be turned. People born half vampires like me, Adze and those who become vampires through rituals are the only people who can have changes in weight, acne, and even grow hair. For everyone else, they're stuck how they're turned. It's the reason many people grow their hair long before turning because if they turn while it's short, it'll never grow. But if they cut it after turning, it'll always grow back to the same length. It's one of the reasons that so many vampires look alike. Those in power have a certain look they like to maintain. Mostly well-manicured and neat white people. My skin is light, but dark enough for them to know I'm not one of them. A few sneak in from time to time. It’s not a white’s only club, but it’s the dress code gives off, no darkies allowed.
I choose to take up space near the pool where I can watch the water tinted red by the lights. I've been without fresh blood for too long; at a certain point the blood I buy hurts more than it does good. It reminds me of my childhood. At a certain point, I just needed fresh warm blood. I think that's the reason I can't control my drinking now. The first time I had blood from a living body, I went overboard. Now that's all I know. I'm weak, but I know at these events all I have to do is wait and some random human will approach me. From there, we'll go somewhere private and I'll eat. I'm not the first vampire to drain a human dry so I don't even need to worry about the cleanup. It gets taken care of.
"You look bored," it doesn't take long before a woman approaches me. Black hair, bronze colored skin, back lipstick with a red outline. It’s not what vampires have their thralls wear; it’s what goth kids wear. She's new to this. She'll be easy. She came here just looking for a vampire, and she’s good looking. If not me, someone else will take the bait. Hopefully she survives the night with a vampire she dreamed of.
"Wow, how did you know," I ask sarcastically
"You had this look on your face that said you wanted to jump in the pool and hold your breath until you drowned."
"Wouldn't be so bad, would it?”
"Well, if you want to get wet, I've got other ideas," she smiles coyly
"Why don't you tell me, or show me."
Sex makes the world go round. I don't really care for sex, it's just an easy motivator to get what I want. It's always been that way. Sex in exchange for what I need. I'm no different than any of the prostitutes I've killed. It's just a means to an end. She keeps talking as she leads me by my hand through the house and up the stairs. She just talks on and on about how she's so excited to be at her first vampire party. When we find a bedroom, I follow her in and close the door behind us.
When I turn around, she's already seated on the edge of the bed, and has already removed her shirt. I know how this goes from here. I make my way to the bed. Kissing someone you don't plan to be with forever on the lips always felt strange to me but nobody has ever complained about a kiss on the neck.
"Bite me," the words barely audible through a gentle moan. "Harder," she whispers when I scrape my fangs across her neck.
I pull back for a moment so she can toss her bra to the side, she reaches beneath my shirt and makes an odd face. She looks pleased when I remove my shirt revealing the messy bandaging of my wounds. It's enough to send her into overdrive. I continue to kiss her neck while fondling her breast, gently rolling her nipple between my index finger and thumb as she works to remove my pants. I tense up briefly as she shoves her hand into my boxers with no tact. But I'm not a child anymore, and this is nothing new. We reposition ourselves, me leaning back on the bed as she kisses gently between my thighs, teasing, working her way ever closer until the first kiss lands at the tip. I slide further back on the bed pulling her with me. She's well practiced in moving her tongue to make sure no part goes unloved. For her effort I reach down beneath her skirt and put my hands to work. I squeeze her inner thigh tight enough that her face gives a brief moment of pain before I let go. Gently I rub circles, disrupting her mouth occasionally she lets out another moan or gasps for breath. She's having fun, but I'm getting eager. I work a finger into the soft wetness, back and forth slowly until I add another finger.
She stops and moves my hand before climbing atop me. With a firm grip she guides me into that same soft wetness my fingers were feeling just a moment ago. Small motions, up and down at first, her breast bouncing gently, then harder as she picks up speed. My hands rub her lower back and hips until she bends down placing her neck at my lips.
"Bite me," she whispers again.
This time I let my fangs pierce her skin, not deep enough that I can drink, but deep enough that she feels it. That moment provides her with more excitement than anything else we've done tonight.
"Harder," she asks, deeper my fangs go. "Harder," she demands, while slowing her ride. "I said harder," as she pokes a finger into a stab wound where a bandage had fallen off.
"What the fuck," I ask as she drives her finger deeper.
"Fucking bite me," she shouts as she comes to a stop.
"Get off me," I pull her finger from my wound.
"I said bite me," she slaps me across the face.
I shove her off me and to one side of the bed as I roll off the edge on the other. The wound doesn't hurt as bad as when I first got stabbed, but it hurts and there's fresh blood. She keeps slapping at me and shouting as I get dressed. Some people like pain with sex, not me. But she enjoys the pain too much. It's easy to hold her back, she's not strong. As I buckle my belt it seems like she's given up and gone to sit on the bed. Before I can exit the room a glass vase shatter across the back of my head.
"What the fuck is your issue," I scare myself without realizing I had already moved to grab her by the neck. She's not afraid of me, and she's not fighting to get away.
"You bitch," are the last words I hear before she spits in my face.
I throw her against the wall hard enough that the drywall cracks, then I shove my fangs deep into her neck as if I'm trying to bite through it. Big gulps, I'm not even worried about her dying. The look of peace on her face brings me back. I pull away from her and she slides to the floor. I spit a mouth full of blood on the carpet. Something's wrong with her.
"What is it," I ask as I start to feel dizzy. "I said what is it," I shout again
"AIDS," she whispers as she starts to stand.
"Bitch, you gave me AIDs," I struggle to keep standing. Who knew AIDs would hurt vampires so much? "I should kill you," I try to shout as she moves toward the window. My head is spinning, and my senses are all going crazy. Bad blood on a body that runs on blood. Instant food poisoning, I get it. I grab her neck and start to squeeze. I heard the glass shatter but don’t remember shoving her. I hit the ground hard and glance over at her barely moving body.
Covered in my own blood, both new and old I try to stand, but my legs give out. I can only crawl towards my car. Shards of glass cut deeper into me as I drag my body across the lawn. I spot a few vampires staring at me, but they look away when I make eye contact. I can hear a few of them laugh. I look pathetic right now and they’d rather not even know me. It’s so damn cold. Blood stains the side of my car as I struggle to get the door open. My legs seem to not work at all as I pull myself into the car. The car starts and my fingers slip across the console as I try to turn on the heat to stay warm. My arms are giving out now. I need a moment to recover, and some help.
My blood covered fingers slip across my phone screen. I pick Dusty’s number and the phone just rings until I get his voice mail, “leave a message stating your reason if you expect me to return your call,” Dusty’s voice comes through. When I don’t record a message, the phone hangs up.
I start trying to find anyone else, but I don’t have any friends that can help me. I don’t have any friends. I pick a number at random, and hope someone picks up. “Hello,” the voice answers.
“Don’t fuck this up,” I force out the words before coughing up blood that burns my throat and even the skin on my lips.
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