Excerpt: Dead Souls

You have to watch what you believe in, because it will come back and bite you on the ass. I keep telling myself that as I read one report after another. The only noise in the room coming from the whirl of the computer tower’s fan and the scrolling of the mouse as my right middle finger twirled the scroll wheel. Line after line, I ask myself: where do monsters come from? Are they made by God? Does man create them? Or are they born that way? Or can it be a mixture of all of the above?

Rubbing my eyes, I push myself away from the computer and the pile of newspapers gathered around it. The chair teeters a bit as I adjust my ass on the aged cracked leather. I need to find a replacement for the missing wheel; the floorboards are starting to show gauge marks from the metal wheel base eating into the wood. I’m sure the owner of the building won’t appreciate having to replace the wood flooring because of my cheap thrift store find.

“Okay Twinkie,” I announce as I stand up stretching my sore back as I do so, “let’s get this freak show on the road.”

A ball of black fur rested on top of the computer monitor enjoying the heat from the slits in the back. The black cat opened one green eye and promptly closed it, flicking her tail across the computer screen in annoyance.

“Fine,” I scoff, “be a sour puss.”

Getting a chuckle out of my own joke, I leave the cat to nap away on the warm monitor. Outside of my cramped office the bright light of the hallway jars my senses. I keep my humble working space dimly light to avoid looking at the metal file cabinets jam packed into the large space. And after working nonstop for several hours my eyes forgot what the light spectrum felt like against weak retinas. Blinking while cursing, I find the stairwell to the downstairs portion of the building which houses a used bookstore. Faintly, I can hear screams coming from the small television kept behind the counter. My creeper boots thud against the floors as I navigate around the maze of books kept on the stairs in precarious piles. Worn flower print wallpaper adds a great effect to the whole well worn yet still good bookstore, I muse to myself.

The downstairs of the three story building is any bookworm’s dream. The bookshelves stood taller than me by two inches even in the three and a half inch boots. Some were double lined with books or worse the shelves bowed with the weight to rest on top of other books. Not to mention the stacks that wreathed the base of each shelf. Using the overhead signs as a guide to the front I make it out of the dust laden world.

The two clerks in charge of the shop tonight huddled around the small thirteen inch television set stashed away behind the counter by the decrepit cash register. The images on the screen reflected in their eyeglasses.

“Sit any closer and you will be permanently blind.” I interjected.

Sarah jumped in her seat with a yelp of surprise while Ted looked up at me with a frightened look on his face his eyes glossy and mouth agape.

“Omigod Lenore! Don’t. Do. That!” Sarah scolded as she adjusted her teal cardigan casting a furtive glance at the television screen.

The cardigan made her look so much older than twenty, which made her six years younger than me. And the old lady tweed skirts didn’t help with the perception either.

“What are you two watching?” I leaned over the counter to peer at the small screen careful not to press down on the glass counter tops. Fifteen white printer paper pieces were thumb tacked around the counter all proclaiming “DO NOT LEAN AGAINST COUNTERS”. I think they did that because of me, I have broken them a total of five out of the seven times.

“One hundred greatest moments in horror movies.” Ted shares with a shit eating grin.

I chuckle as I see Pinhead enter the scene from one of the many Hellraiser movies, “Faulty trigger finger.”

“Still no plans for Halloween?” Ted asks wagging his thick black eyebrows at me missing my joke entirely.

“No,” I shake my long locks, getting flashes of black and blood red curls, as I stand back away from the counter. “Not yet. I’m sure I’ll find something though, always do.”

Sarah eyed me up and down as she clutched the neck of her cardigan closed as if there was a draft in the stale building. “Making the rounds tonight?”

I try not to frown down at the cow-eyed girl. What she referred to as my “rounds” was my nightly stop at Neo’s down the street. I love the industrial and goth music and plus the energy of the place is fantabulous. What a better place to blow several hours? Where I can dance until I drop from exhaustion. Or an overdose from energy drinks, either one.

But it’s the way she says it that raises the hackles. The sneer with the distasteful frown makes me wonder if she knows what I do upstairs or what I am for that matter. Can’t have humans getting involved with business that made them automatically grab for their pitchforks and torches, now can we? The preternatural world doesn’t need that. It can create its own downward spiral without the humans. Trust me; I know what I’m talking about.

It’s what I mean when I said it’s what you believe that can come back and bite you on the ass, quite literally in fact.

“No Sarah,” I try to keep my voice cool and collected, “I’m not making ‘rounds.’ Just going down the street to Neo, I need to dance off some energy been up there too long.”

How is it possible that the little wench could look down at me from that angle? But even though she’s sitting in a chair a few feet closer to the ground, she still manages to do it. Rolling my eyes, I give a small wave and make a beeline for the front door. A strand of bells on a leather strip jingle as the door shuts closed behind me. Looking over my shoulder, I try to peer passed the colorful array of local posters and fliers collected on the glass pane of the door and two adjacent windows. Through a piece of scotch tape I can see Sarah lean over the counter and stare down the aisle to the door. I smirk at her before walking off down Clark Street.

I curse, as I’m oft to do as of late with a lot of things in life, as the chill October air of Chicago hits my exposed legs and arms causing gooseflesh to pop up along my skin. My coat is upstairs in my office, but after that showdown I don’t want to go back through the bookstore to retrieve it. Screw it. I’d just coat check it anyways once I got to Neo. At least the red fishnets stockings provide some relief from the draft against my legs.

Saturday night and the street is packed with cars wedged against the sidewalk or trying to drive in either direction along Clark. Pedestrians stroll along the sidewalk as neon lights from storefronts and bars try to entice them inside. I ignore the stares and cat calls as I walk the last few blocks to the alleyway. I enjoy walking to Neo it gives me time to unwind and put work behind me.

Damn work. Archiving reports from the last four hundred years is a task upon itself. I’m sure the vampires could find someone more qualified to catalog and digitize their precious archives but nope they want to keep me close. But then they generally keep Dhampirs close at hand. Better than having them go rogue and start slaying I guess. It’s happened. Not in the last century or so, but it has happened.

Thinking about the last few news articles to come across my email instead of where I was going I almost zipped by the alleyway that leads to Neo. Hugging the right side of the alley, I avoid the giant pot hole in the concrete. Ahead a group of people stand outside smoking cigarettes, the smoke curling out of their mouths like dragons. The scent of tobacco, and every now and then clove, hazes the air.

Jay, the doorman, stood leaning against a red concrete pillar with a cigarette dangling out of his mouth. The collar of his worn leather jacket popped up to keep the chill off the back of his neck.

“Hey Jay, how’s the night going?” I ask as I hand him my i.d. from the back pocket of my black corduroy mini.

“Busy night, Lenore.” Jay replies as he gives my i.d. the cursory look-over. “I’m not gonna hafta pull ya off another fang tooth, am I?”

I give a wary laugh as I roll my eyes. “I hope not. But the jerk deserved it.”

Jay took a drag off his cigarette, the cherry blossoming red. Giving me a curt nod, he came back with, “Sure he did just like the guy from three months ago.”

Glaring at Jay, I don’t know what to say to that one.

“Listen,” Jay bent forward as he whispered to me, smoke curling out of his mouth and nostrils and into my face, “I dunno what’s going on behind da scenes, don’ care to, ya know. But try to keep it down. People have been asking questions, ya know?”

“People? What people?” I ask as my eyes narrow.

Jay shrugged as he pulled the cigarette out of his mouth with his right hand, “Some guy with green eyes wears a hat all da time so ya can’t see his hair. Quiet, keeps to himself mainly. He’s inside. Been comin’ here every now and then lookin’ for some chick. Says it’s his sister.”

“I try to keep to myself Jay, you know that.” I mutter holding my hand out for my i.d. back. “But the Vrykolakas need to learn how to keep their hands to themselves.”

Jay handed my i.d. over but didn’t release it when I began to tug on it. His brown eyes studied me for a moment before he nodded, “Know that, can’t do nothin’ bout it. Not my place in the Society.”

I swallow hard as I nod my head while I look away from Jay’s hard stare. What he didn’t say was he’d only protect my lily white ass for so long and that time was coming to a close. A hired thug for the vampires, Jay kept the peace at the nightclub. A nightclub, like many others in the city of Chicago, owned by the Prince of the City the head vampire in Chicago.

Jay released my i.d. “Get outta here Lenore. Leave this city.”

I glance at Jay from the corner of my eye and noticed for the first time in many years concern in his face. “Why are you telling me this?”

“You’ve read the reports. You have to see it comin’, don’t cha?”

“See what?” Turning, I face Jay.

Clearing his throat, Jay averted my gaze. “Nevermind.”

“No what?” I demand as I take a step closer to Jay.

The man recoiled as I reach out to grab his arm. Fear replaced the concern in his eyes. “If they haven’t told ya then I can’t.”

Confusion bubbles to the surface of my mind. Suppressing my curiosity, I stride to the open black door of Neo. Already I could hear the beat of the music and the chorus of voices from people’s conversations at a high volume. I glance over my shoulder before disappearing inside, Jay looked worried. That unsettled me, that something is happening in the city and I’m not aware of it. As the archivist of Chicago, I think I would notice something happening.

Frowning, I barely give a wave to Alice behind the counter for the coat check, a plethora of black trench coats or jackets behind her on wire hangers. Neo’s dance floor looked filled to capacity as I step up to the main part of the club, surveying the crowd before I submerse myself in it. People crowd around the bar on the left with drinks in their hands or holding out money for the two bartenders to take their order. I slip through the narrow passage of people from the bar and the other group of people standing along the railing that separates the bar from the dance floor and main seating area.

Taking the two steps down to the bathrooms I nearly get smacked with the door from the men’s bathroom. Jumping out of the way, I glare at the man. Dressed from head to toe in black the man gives a shy apology before grazing passed me to the steps back up to the bar. Watching him go, I study his ass in those black slacks. I think I deserve a little gawking, I mean, I almost got the warm welcome of a men’s bathroom door. Who knows how many guys didn’t wash their hands or God knows what else only to touch that door afterwards. Ick.

Pushing open the door for the women’s restroom I’m greeted with harsh stares by two young women. Each wore different color dreadlocks in their dread wigs with matching headbands to obscure the hairline. Hell their outfits even match the neon color in the wigs. Squeezing passed the pink one I make into one of the two bathroom stalls. Holding up the sleeves to my red medieval shirt, I try not to touch anything as I relieve myself. Sometimes the sleeves can be more of a hindrance than anything else, but the flare is so awesome on the dance floor.

When I open the stall the two are quietly chatting in the opposite corner of the bathroom. Ignoring them, I wash my hands and make sure to check my hair and make up before going out. Black curls peek out from the red of my natural hair, something most people have to get out of a bottle. Using the tip of my pinkie finger, I smudge the red eye shadow back into place along my eye lid. The kohl eyeliner contrasts nicely with my bright green eyes, cat’s eyes my foster mother always said.

I leave the bathroom with its two cyber-goths gossiping in the far corner. Stepping up to the bar I order my standard raging bull and down the red bull and vodka. Leaving the empty glass on the bar, I glide to the dance floor. It’s a motley mix of people goth, cyber, straight off the street and preppy all dancing to EBM. Finding a space large enough for me in the center of the dance floor I feel my inhibitions drain away as the alcohol finds its way into my veins. At the same time the energy drink releases its dose of caffeine into my brain.

And as I dance I feel my vampire side blossom to life. It’s a thin veil that keeps some of my powers in check. But with such a large group of people, I don’t worry about taking too much from them. I’m just as confused on my vampire lineage as the rest of the Society, what the vampires like to call their little world amongst the rest of the preternatural. Swaying to the beat of the music, the part of me more succubus awakens.

Opening my eyes, I can see the bright colors of life around the humans and every once and a while the faded colors of a vampire. Vampires all feed on energy and blood. But it is the lineage of the vampire that will determine the amount of each that needs to sustain them. Right now, it is energy I crave. As I brush up against people, I take as little as I can from them careful to watch the brightness of their prana, their energy.

It is sometimes the humans who try to pass themselves as vampires that try to put down the more pranic vampires, the succubi and incubi. Sanguinarians, those few humans who think they crave blood. They don’t understand the blood lust. They’ve never felt it take over their body and mind. It is the worst fear of a vampire, to be lost to the lust. Because it brings the notice of the locals and I grew up with the stories of the hunts as bed time stories instead of princess’s in towers waiting for the knight in shiny armor.

But the prana calls to us just as much as the blood. And it is that part of me that I feed tonight. As Dhampir I don’t feed as a normal vampire would, small meals every night, but only once a week. There are some of my kind, the mix breed, that have the same habits of a full blood. But then there are not too many Dhampirs in this world to say what is common and what is not. A fewer yet are Moroi, children born from two full vampires.

Reaching my fill of prana, I let the veil slip back into place returning to just another human girl. That doesn’t mean all my powers go away. No only the ones that are more parasite than anything else. My senses reach a new level with the energy boost as it would with any vampire, always at our strongest after a feeding.

It’s when my vision returns to normal that I see the man from earlier, the one that almost smashed my face in with the bathroom door. A bottle of Miller High Draft in his right hand, his pale eyes studied me. I don’t know why I think he’s staring at me maybe it’s the shiver that runs up my spine.

A black fedora gives him an air of mystery. The cuff of his black dress shirt is loose and falls back against his wrist as he takes a drink of his beer, showing off a thick black cuff with loops of metal encircling it. Finishing the last of the beer, he sets the empty bottle on a nearby table and strides to the dance floor.

Why do I feel like the snake being charmed? I feel my heart quicken as he comes ever so closer. The simple glide in his steps even though his boots looked heavier and taller than mine. The broad shoulders. My senses on overload, I try to catch his scent on the air, but the place is pungent with the spice of sweat and alcohol.

Stopping a few inches shy of me, the man gives a shy smile with full lips. I want to stretch up and kiss them, wondering how soft they feel because they look it. Black eyeliner, smeared around his eyes, gave him the same effect as it did on me. The green on black.

“You stopped dancing.” The man points out.

“Huh?” My mind is too focused on the inflection in his voice, the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, that it ignores his words.

“Dancing,” the man does a funny little jig, “you stopped.”

My cheeks flush with heat as I blush, “Silly me.”

“Would you like to?”

“Would I like to what?”

“Dance.” The man replies with a grin.

“Sure.” I feel my own silly grin stretch across my face.

As the music changes to something a bit faster paced, I feel my self doubt creeping in. Nothing like relationship baggage to weigh down on a person.