infect them and change them into the animals seen earlier. It was like a brand, every vampire’s bite -mark distinctly different. A mask covered her eyes. All around, beautiful antiques gathered dust.
A round the room, furniture was scattered randomly against the long walls. On them figures moved as vampires’ pleasured themselves with their concubine. Around the fringes at the far end, dark figures scurried and skittered about, their red eyes watching intently, desperate to come into the light, but knowing they must wait for their command.
The Mayor shifted his view again slightly, making sure that he stayed within the shadows of the old bar. At the back of the restaurant he noticed Rodan lying on a faded red chaise lounge. He was wearing his usual long black coat and his shoulder length hair was pulled tightly back into a ponytail, accentuating his sharp, angular features. Sitting with him in her usual skin-tight leather clothing, which managed only to exaggerate every perfect curve, was Keermit.
The Mayor watched as she absently played with a stray strand of silken hair, her blood red lips pursed in thought as her tongue flicked out and sucked at the tip of her hair. The Mayor drank in every curve until her eyes suddenly flicked round and she was staring straight at him, straight through him. His breadth caught again in his chest and he pulled himself sharply back into the shadows of the doorway once more, averting his eyes and swallowing hard, his mouth suddenly very, very dry again.
Rodan looked to wards Keermit and whispered something in her ear, to which she nodded. At her feet sat a man and woman, both wore masks that couldn’t hide their fear, each had the trademark leather band around their neck. Keermit leant down toward the woman and spoke something lost in the music. Understanding, she stood and crossed the room to the other large wooden door that sat opposite and slowly slid it open. The music played on as Rodan watched a woman nervously enter the hall through the doorway, dragging a rippling sack behind her. She hesitated, as the background chattering grew noticeably louder, almost losing grip of the moving sack in the process. Rodan sat up, ignorant of the women all around him. He leaned across and pulled the tone arm from the record player.
The dancers froze as the music screeched into silence. Rodan stood . All heads around the long room bowed, whether human or vampire. The woman with the sack approached the centre of the room uncertainly; although she also had a leather band around her neck she wore no mask to hide her fear. When she reached the centre of the restaurant, Rodan raised his hand.
‘Kneel’ he whispered.
Without hesitation the woman complied.
Looking deep into her eyes, a smile on his face that would make the hairs rise on your neck, he spoke to her softly, ‘Well, you know what to do?’
Visibly shaking, the woman nodded; closing her eyes she opened the sack. Half a dozen chickens scrabbled out, dazed and confused. The sounds from the shadows growing louder as Rodan raised his arm into the air and the chattering grew to a high pitched crescendo. Then he barked a command, one word ‘KAR!’ and on this single command a half dozen figures bolted from the shadows scrabbling over one another onto the mock ballroom floor, their eyes glinting red in the candlelight.
The woman didn’t move . Her eyes remained screwed tightly shut. Her body stiffened as the creatures scrabbled toward her. They attacked the chickens in a pure feeding frenzy. In the middle, in what had become the eye of the storm, sat the girl, biting her lip so hard and drawing blood, so as not to scream out.
Around her the animals, human only in shape, tore into the live chickens . Feathers filled the air and blood splattered the face of the woman as the animals fought each other for the food.
The creatures crouched low , moving on all fours, circling each other. Around them a larger circle had formed as the
A round the room, furniture was scattered randomly against the long walls. On them figures moved as vampires’ pleasured themselves with their concubine. Around the fringes at the far end, dark figures scurried and skittered about, their red eyes watching intently, desperate to come into the light, but knowing they must wait for their command.
The Mayor shifted his view again slightly, making sure that he stayed within the shadows of the old bar. At the back of the restaurant he noticed Rodan lying on a faded red chaise lounge. He was wearing his usual long black coat and his shoulder length hair was pulled tightly back into a ponytail, accentuating his sharp, angular features. Sitting with him in her usual skin-tight leather clothing, which managed only to exaggerate every perfect curve, was Keermit.
The Mayor watched as she absently played with a stray strand of silken hair, her blood red lips pursed in thought as her tongue flicked out and sucked at the tip of her hair. The Mayor drank in every curve until her eyes suddenly flicked round and she was staring straight at him, straight through him. His breadth caught again in his chest and he pulled himself sharply back into the shadows of the doorway once more, averting his eyes and swallowing hard, his mouth suddenly very, very dry again.
Rodan looked to wards Keermit and whispered something in her ear, to which she nodded. At her feet sat a man and woman, both wore masks that couldn’t hide their fear, each had the trademark leather band around their neck. Keermit leant down toward the woman and spoke something lost in the music. Understanding, she stood and crossed the room to the other large wooden door that sat opposite and slowly slid it open. The music played on as Rodan watched a woman nervously enter the hall through the doorway, dragging a rippling sack behind her. She hesitated, as the background chattering grew noticeably louder, almost losing grip of the moving sack in the process. Rodan sat up, ignorant of the women all around him. He leaned across and pulled the tone arm from the record player.
The dancers froze as the music screeched into silence. Rodan stood . All heads around the long room bowed, whether human or vampire. The woman with the sack approached the centre of the room uncertainly; although she also had a leather band around her neck she wore no mask to hide her fear. When she reached the centre of the restaurant, Rodan raised his hand.
‘Kneel’ he whispered.
Without hesitation the woman complied.
Looking deep into her eyes, a smile on his face that would make the hairs rise on your neck, he spoke to her softly, ‘Well, you know what to do?’
Visibly shaking, the woman nodded; closing her eyes she opened the sack. Half a dozen chickens scrabbled out, dazed and confused. The sounds from the shadows growing louder as Rodan raised his arm into the air and the chattering grew to a high pitched crescendo. Then he barked a command, one word ‘KAR!’ and on this single command a half dozen figures bolted from the shadows scrabbling over one another onto the mock ballroom floor, their eyes glinting red in the candlelight.
The woman didn’t move . Her eyes remained screwed tightly shut. Her body stiffened as the creatures scrabbled toward her. They attacked the chickens in a pure feeding frenzy. In the middle, in what had become the eye of the storm, sat the girl, biting her lip so hard and drawing blood, so as not to scream out.
Around her the animals, human only in shape, tore into the live chickens . Feathers filled the air and blood splattered the face of the woman as the animals fought each other for the food.
The creatures crouched low , moving on all fours, circling each other. Around them a larger circle had formed as the
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