How Danniella and Amelia Got Their Motorcycles
Note: This is a tale of happenings on the night of the 10th of April, 2010. It is IC. If you cannot keep the knowledge you learn here OC, then DO NOT READ THIS
How Danniella and Amelia Got Their Motorcycles
The bartender set down a beer in front of the woman in white leather, and at her raised eyebrows, he grinned. “From Pete..The guy in the bandana.” He tilted his head toward Pete.
The woman followed the bartender's gesture, meeting the gaze of the biker at the end of the bar, a slow smile crossing her dark stained lips. “Thank you,” she said, both to the bartender and Pete, who was too far away to hear. He could see her just fine. Her eyes traveled his body, appraising. She picked up the drink and pretended to drink. “Tell Pete I like his...Taste in beer.” She spoke just loud enough for the bartender to hear. He nodded and started to move away, then stopped.
“Er..Miss, I don't wanna be getting into your business or anything, but you look like a nice enough lady. But...Er.. --” He faltered.
Her dark eyes fixed on his, suddenly intense and attentive. “But what?”
“Well...” He twisted the wet bar rag in his hand, “Just be careful with Pete, alright? He's dangerous. Got a little bit of a temper on him.”
Her laughter trilled, and then she was looking intently on him again. “Don't you worry about a thing. I can handle myself. He's dangerous, sure. But me,” she gazed up at him through her lashes, that dark smile on her lips again, “I'm poison.”
For no reason he could explain, the bartender felt suddenly that she could indeed handle herself. He exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and relaxed. “Alright, good to know. You just call me if you need anything, ok?”
“Sure, Dave, sure.”
He moved away, wondering how she'd known his name.
-
The blonde woman looked at herself in the mirror, and dabbed her lipstick with a tissue. Beautiful, she thought, running her hands down the purple satin bustier she wore. She smiled at her reflection.
She was beautiful. There was an air of innocence mixed with a sultry seductiveness that attracted others to her. Even thought she'd become a vampire over a hundred and fifty years ago, that appearance of fresh innocence remained. If only they knew, she mused, how that is only a mask. My innocence is long gone.
She was stunning, which might have been part of the reason her Sire had embraced her. Or perhaps he embraced her for her daring heart, her willingness to accept the darkness of what she had become and mold herself to it. In truth, she didn't care why she'd been embraced, only that she had. The paleness of emotion that bothered others fit her perfectly, elevated her beyond the angst and repressive society that she'd come from. A frown creased her brow as the memory passed through her. Pathetic, she thought. Pathetic people from a backwards, pathetic time. This new century suited so much better.
As she pulled up the cuff of the spike heeled boots over her knees, someone spoke. It was her house ghoul, Luanna. “Mistress Danniella is here,” she said, her eyes lowered. “Shall I bring her up, Mistress Amelia?”
Amelia straightened, letting the annoyance show on her face. Although Luanna ran the house smoothly and kept the accounts in fine order, there was something that Amelia didn't like about her. Perhaps it was the underlying tone of righteous disapproval in Luanna's actions that reminded Amelia of the spirit of those days when she had been mortal. Amelia thought, not for the first time, that perhaps she'd kill her one of these days. “No, I'm coming down now.”
She brushed past her small, dark housekeeper and strode down the stairs, her face lighting with an expansive smile as she saw Danniella waiting in the foyer. “Hello,” she declared, lifting an arm dramatically to show off her outfit.
Danniella returned her smile, the darkness of the vampiric condition somehow always present in her slightest move. “Amelia,” she said, her voice cultured and somehow very proper, “You look amazing as usual.”
“Thank you,” Amelia pulled on the leather jacket. “Now, where are we going tonight, and who are we meeting? You've been rather mysterious about it.”
Danniella raised an eyebrow, preferring to remain enigmatic. How does she DO that , Amelia wondered. Must be the Ventrue blood.
“Darling, you'll love it. I told you before, we're meeting a friend of mine. She's not hindered by our...rules. And she and I share similar interests.”
“She's a little crazy, then,” joked Amelia. “She must be if you're friends.”
Danniella's smile grew wider. “She's...Slightly sociopathic, dear. Just like you.” She opened the door, holding it for Amelia.
Together, they walked into the night.
_________________________________________________________
Danniella stepped out of the car, eyebrow raised as she looked at the seedy building with its neon “Open” sign blinking. She noted the motorcycles in front of the bar and smiled. “This should be fun,” she said, adjusting her short coat.
Although she was going out to let off steam tonight, Danniella could not bring herself to wear jeans. She was a vision of class in designer slacks and boots, a red camisole underneath the tailored jacket. Her outfit spoke of a rich girl, out to play. In truth, Danniella could not do grunge or blue collar, even if she had tried - which, of course, she never would. She was a Ventrue, through and through. She was beautiful, in a cool, calculating and reserved way. Some had called her “The Ice Princess” before, and she had to admit, she secretly liked it, although it would be too much for her to ever reveal that. She had too tight a control on her outward emotions. Emotions displayed to those who did not know her were a weakness. To those who did know, her, however, she did occasionally reveal the torrent of wild emotion that sometimes took her. Poor Alexander, she mused , thinking of her Sire, How many times have I bitten you in rage? Too many. Ah well. You love me still.
She barely looked back as Amelia got out of the car and instructed the driver that he could go. “We'll find our own way back,” Amelia said.
As the driver pulled away from the curb and into the light traffic, the two women approached the door to the bar. “Your friend hangs out here ,” Amelia asked, somewhat dubious. “Is she a biker chick?”
Danniella shrugged, blue eyes catching Amelia for an instant. “Oh, she's worse than that, dear. She can't hang out in Elysium, you see. This is just where she wanted to meet us.”
Can't hang out in Elysium? Amelia frowned, and followed Danniella in.
_
The bar was a stereotype, filled with smoke and laughter and the reverberation of the Karoake machine. A woman in white leather belted out “Back in Black” to an appreciative audience comprised mostly of tattooed men in bike culture clothing. As they moved to an open table, the woman's strong voice permeated the room, beautiful and dangerous. As she is, herself, Amelia thought. Where do I know her from?
They sat, and a harried waitress wandered over to take their drink order. Predictably, Danniella ordered a red wine, while Amelia declined a drink. “I do not drink...wine,” she said, earning a grin from Danniella.
The song over, the dark haired woman stepped from the stage, bowing extravagantly and blowing a kiss to her admirers. She made her way to Danniella and Amelia. Danniella raised an eyebrow at her. “You have a great voice,” she stated.
The woman smiled. There was a hint of something mischievous in her good humor. “What do you think I did in my past life, Danniella? I was a lounge singer.” Her voice held the strong accent of the East Coast. Jersey? New York? Amelia wasn't sure.
Danniella nodded towards the woman. “Amelia,” she began, “I'd like you to meet a friend of mine. This is Lucy Strychnine.”
Amelia's eyebrows shot up, the only sign of her surprise. “Strychnine? Aren't you --”
“Bloodhunted, yeah,” Lucy said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. “It's all a big political lie, but whatever.” Her last word came out as “whatevah.”
Danniella continued. “And this is Amelia. I've told you a little about her.”
“Spiral's Childe, right?”
“Is that a problem?” Amelia sat straighter.
Lucy waived the question off. “Nah. You come from good blood. Technically, I guess we're in the same House together. Do you have a problem with me?”
Amelia shook her head. “Nope. Not that I know of.”
“Good, then. Let's have some fun.” Lucy pulled out a cigarette and lit it. “My buddy Pete is right over there. You'll get to know him later.”
Danniella glanced to where Lucy gestured. A big man wearing a bandana nodded in their direction from over his pool stick. There were several men with him, watching him and another man playing pool. “Bikers,” Danniella sighed, “They all look alike. And all so.... Yummy.”
Amelia laughed. Lucy grinned. “They're going to be our rides tonight, just like we talked about.”
“Oh,” Danniella responded, cooly, “And provide us our dinner, as well?”
“Very likely.”
Lucy narrowed her eyes. She'd spent the greater part of two months casing this bar, this particular biker gang that Pete belonged to. They belonged to Ratchet, and as far as she was concerned, it was reason enough for them to be destroyed. But it went beyond that, justifying their demise fully in her mind when she had filtered the dirty little secrets some of them had from their unsuspecting minds.
“Lemme tell ya a little something about Pete,” she began, turning her attention back to Danniella's perfect cool countenance. “Pete served time for a rape he committed back in 1998. Got out for good behavior a couple of years ago. What the law doesn't know is that he likes to get drunk and molest his sixteen year old cousin weekly.”
Amelia grimaced. “Sick fuck,” she muttered.
“Indeed,” Danniella agreed.
“Yeah,” Lucy continued, “He likes it when they can't fight back. He hates women.”
Danniella growled, low in the back of her throat.
“On the good side, he does have a nice bike that he'll be giving us.” Lucy inhaled smoke, her eyes glinting. “And it just so happens he's got a couple of friends - well, gang brothers, too, that share his hatred of women and his love of the smoke. That's them -” she pointed a red manicured nail. “Al is the shorter one. He like to beat up his girlfriends. There's even a suspicious death of one of them in his past. But of course they couldn't prove anything. His boss got him a good lawyer.”
“His boss? Who's his boss?” Amelia asked.
“Whoever runs the gang, I guess,” Lucy hedged. “There's big money in running gangs, and whoever runs it rakes in the most cash. Hell, just ask any Carthian. They could tell you.” She paused. “Of course, not all gangs are run by Carthians. They just know the value better than most.”
Danniella studied Lucy for a moment, and decided she didn't want to know. Yeah, Lucy clearly knew something she wasn't saying, but Danniella also knew there were reasons she wasn't saying it. Plausible deniability , thought Danniella. Isn't that a big one on Lucy's Rules to Live By? Yeah, it was. She decided Lucy could have this secret.
“And the other guy, the thin one, he's John. John's been killing people left and right for years now, but they don't know it. He does, though.”
Amelia leaned forward. “Killing them how?”
Lucy pursed her lips. “He's got HIV, and he knows it. He doesn't give a damn who he infects. He sleeps with every woman he can, and he doesn't use protection. It gives him a cheap thrill, a feeling of power to do what he does. He used to be a meth-head, but he's been clean for several years now, though he still craves it. The only thing close to that high is the feeling of playing God now, dealing death to whoever he screws. His boss thought he did him a favor by getting him clean, but he just made him into even more of a monster.”
“Scum,” Danniella spat.
“Yeah,” agreed Amelia, warming, “And we're the fucking angels of death.”
Lucy felt a slow smile creep on to her face. “Angels of death. I like it.” Abruptly, she stood. “Be right back,” she said, and strutted over to the pool tables.
They watched as she bent over, whispering something in Pete's ear. He straightened, a grin on his face as he looked over at Danniella and Amelia. He glanced at Lucy, and was about to put up his pool stick and follow when a burst of raucous laughter drew everyone's attention. A gaggle of scantily dressed women entered, and upon a quick survey of the room, their buxom, raven haired leader saw Pete and headed straight for him. “Petey!” Cawed the dark haired woman, “Baby, gimme some sugar!”
A bemused look crossed Lucy's face, and she whispered something else into his ear, and left him to the bevy of women. She headed back to Danniella and Amelia. “Let's go, ladies,” she said.
“But what about Pete and his friends?”
“Can't be seen leaving the bar with them, can we? Don't worry, they'll meet us in about a half an hour, not to far from here. Those...ladies.. won't keep them for long. Besides, it's a short walk.”
Danniella shook her head, “I despise walking,” she grumbled, not really serious.
Amelia nudged her. “You need to get out more. Live like the common folk.”
Danniella sniffed loudly. “Lucy, why must you do things in such a draconian knot?”
“Makes unlife interesting,” Lucy explained, laughing. “What fun would it be otherwise?”
_
“Relax, John,” Lucy held the man close, stilling his shaking, “It's alright. It's going to be alright.”
“She fucking...She killed Pete! She fucking killed him!!!” His voice was rising to hysteria, the whites of his eyes almost glowing in the moonlight spilling down over the darkened, makeshift campsite in the woods.
“Hush,” Lucy whispered, lips caressing his ear. “You did some bad shit, John. Nobody killed anybody.”
“I- I SAW it, man! She fucking ripped his throat out with her fucking teeth! J-Jesus Christ!”
Amelia's low whisper came from his other side, “Well, he DID try to rape her, John. Did you see that? Did you know that he would try to rape her?”
“Yes! I mean, no! I mean...He didn't mean it...She's a crazy bitch!”
Lucy patted his arm, and glanced at the shaking man and Amelia. “You two be alright for a second? I'm gonna ask Danniella if she needs any help.”
Amelia nodded. She felt free, freer than she'd felt in a long time. God, it feels good to let go once in a while. She pulled John close to her, whispering poisoned words to him in a deceptively soft voice.
As Lucy reached Danniella, the glare of car lights blinded her for a moment. Danniella was dusting off her slacks, staring down at the bloody body before her. She didn't seem to notice the car slowing on the gravel road until Lucy called her attention to it. “Danniella. Car?”
“Ah, yes. I called my driver. I need to take the bodies elsewhere, and cut them into pieces. We don't have time tonight.” She was all business now. “Help me with him, will you?”
“Sure.”
They lifted the ragged man's body, Lucy taking the legs and Danniella taking his arms. “Pop the trunk,” Danniella instructed the driver, who had rolled down his window. He nodded, looking a little pale.
“Ah, Danniella,” Lucy purred, as they stuffed the body in the plastic lined trunk, “I adore you, do you know that? You didn't get a drop of blood on your clothing. One would think you'd done this before.”
“A lady never reveals her secrets.” Danniella looked up from the body, “And I adore you, darling. Now, what are you going to do with yours? The man is probably crazy by now.”
Lucy flapped it away. “Oh, we'll take care of him in a minute. Let's go get Amelia's kill.”
They approached the campsite where Amelia sat, still whispering into John's ear. His eyes rolled in terror. “Amelia,” Lucy warned, “Don't you dare kill him of fright. You already got yours.”
Amelia smirked. “It gives a whole new meaning to the word 'stiff,' doesn't it?”
Lucy laughed, her voice rich in the night, and she and Danniella looked down over Al's corpse.
“Damn,” Lucy said, “You did a nice job on this one, Amelia. I think he still has a hard on.”
Amelia looked up, and laughed. “Well, men do always say they want to die that way, don't they?”
“I don't even think he knows he's dead,” remarked Danniella. “I do believe he's smiling.”
“I had him begging for it,” commented Amelia, with some pride.
“That you did,” agreed Lucy.
John began to moan, softly, and Lucy huffed. She was suddenly in front of him. “Goddammit, John. You need to cut it out. Don't you realize that you brought this on yourself?”
“I didn't do nothin--” he found his voice, and began to protest weakly.
Lucy's eyes grew hard. “Really? Do you want to play this game, John? Do you really want to disappoint Amelia here by adding LIES to your list of crimes?”
Amelia patted John's head, “That would really disappoint me John. It would disappoint all of us. You don't want to do that. We really can't stand liars.”
“Confession is good for the soul,” Chimed in Danniella.
His gaze shifted between them, frightened, confused. “We know what you did, baby,” Lucy crooned, suddenly soft, persuasive. She reached out and took his hand. “We know what it's like to want to control something in your life, even if it hurts someone else. That's all you were doing, isn't it? Having control makes you feel powerful, doesn't it? The power of life and death, in your hands? Believe me, I can see the appeal.”
He swallowed, and rubbed a weak hand through his hair. “You understand? You...You get it?”
“Oh yes, we get it,” Danniella whispered.
“Oh God,” he moaned, “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” Tears ran down his face.
“It's karma,” Lucy sighed, and stood. “As ye sow, so shall ye reap, and all that. Ya got me, John?”
He snuffled. “Please don't kill me. Please don't kill me like that...Like them..” His eyes pleaded with all of them. Amelia smiled softly at him, brushing his hair back.
“That's not my choice to make,” Lucy looked down at him. “It's yours, and you already made it.”
“No, no, no! I--”
Amelia shushed him, her slender white fingers gently resting upon his lips. “I could take you like I did your friend,” she crooned. “You'd like it.”
His eyes widened again.
Lucy crossed her arms, white leather glowing in the moonlight. “Tell ya what, John-boy. I just made a decision. I won't touch you. None of us will. You got a choice, though.”
He licked his lips, nervously.
Danniella cocked her head, curious.
Lucy pulled a clear plastic baggy from her pocket, the small pale lump inside drawing his attention instantly. “You know what this is,” she asked.
He nodded, shivering.
“You've been off this shit for, what, three years now? You think now would be the time to take it up again?”
“Oh, man,” he moaned, starting to rise without even realizing it. Amelia raised an eyebrow, pulling John back down to sit next to her. “Not so fast, babe. Hold on.”
“So here's the deal. You either help us clean up this site, and then trust us to take you home, safe and sound and you NEVER speak of what happened here. OR, you sit here, smoke up some courage, and walk your ass home. I don't care, either way. We don't need to kill you. I'm betting you'll kill yourself.”
There was a long pause, in which Danniella could see the inner turmoil in his eyes, could almost hear himself justifying why it would be ok, just this once, to fall off the wagon. Just this once.
He reached out for the baggie Lucy dangled before him. Without expression, she dropped it into his palm, and reached inside her coat to pull out a small glass pipe. “This shit is gonna kill ya. You know that, right?”
He shrugged weakly, fumbling with the baggie. “What the hell? I'm gonna die someday anyway.”
Lucy sighed. “Your choice, John-boy. Don't say I didn't warn ya.” She turned away from him, and began to help Danniella move Al's body. As Amelia joined them, they heard the 'snick snick snick' of a lighter.
As Al's body was shoved into the trunk, Danniella glanced at Lucy, questioning. “Should I leave it open,” she asked.
Lucy shrugged. “Don't think so. Go ahead and close it.”
Danniella shrugged, a gesture that somehow seemed businesslike on her. “Ok.”
She closed the trunk, then opened one of the back doors, leaning down to pick up a bottle. Amelia raised an eyebrow, hips cocked. “What are you doing?”
Danniella straightened, and held up the bottle. “Bleach,” she said, walking past the two women, “For the blood spilled on the ground.”
Lucy's laughter followed her as she marched to the rough patch of tangled weeds where the man had bled out. The soft crunching of her steps through the brush mixed with the sound of distant cars on the highway, and the night was cooling. None of the women felt it.
Amelia moved to be near Danniella, inhaling the sharp scent of the bleach and hearing the thin splashes of Clorox onto the grass. “Damn, you think of everything,” she said, her voice silky.
Danniella smiled tightly. “It'll really mess up any forensics, should anyone ever think to come out to these woods.”
“Doubt it,” Amelia shrugged.
“Yeah, me too.”
Amelia's attention wandered away from Danniella for a moment, scanning the mostly barren trees of early April. It had been raining off and on this week, and the last dead leaves from the previous autumn had mostly been washed from their tenuous holds on the branches. It smelled of the loamy promise of spring. The bleach was foreign and invasive. Unnatural. Just like us, she thought. God, sometimes I hate natural. I'd burn this all right now, if I thought it would do anything but smoke in all this dampness. She smiled to herself, turning the idea over in her mind idly.
Lucy passed by them, a glimpse of white as she wound through the sparse trees, heading in John's direction. Amelia could see him, still holding the pipe, just sitting. His eyes were closed. “I think she's going to kill him,” Amelia whispered to Danniella. Danniella nodded, and replaced the lid on the empty bottle.
Amelia watched as John the methhead looked up at the woman in white, regal and dangerous before him. The White Queen. The moniker pleased her, as clever words always did. She's the holy hell on wheels white queen. And what kind of Mekhet wears white? Perhaps one in hiding , she mused, wryly.
Danniella went back to the car, and Amelia stood, watching Lucy and the man, lit only by the moon. Lucy spoke softly to John, and he shakily tried to light the pipe again, even though the rock was nothing but residue, smoked ten minutes ago. Her words were too low to be heard, but it looked almost as if she were...What? Blessing him, maybe? As if she were a high priestess blessing a sacrifice? Odd. She wasn't sure, but Lucy hadn't struck her as a religious type. Lucy pushed John's hair tenderly from his eyes. She leaned over and whispered something in his ear, and both of them visibly shivered. In fact, it seemed to her that Lucy shuddered more fiercely than John did when she spoke. WHAT did she just say? Amelia suddenly wanted to know.
John inhaled phantom smoke from the pipe, and Lucy stood tall before him. In that instant, as fast as thought, Amelia could have sworn she saw the image of a young, eerily beautiful man standing behind John, his hand resting on John's shoulder. In that instant, Lucy crashed to her knees before John and the ethereal (Being? Ghost?) man behind him. Ignoring her usual caution, Amelia raced to them. “Lucy?”
She could have sworn she heard Lucy gasp, but whatever illusion she thought she'd seen was no longer there, if she'd even seen it at all, which she suddenly highly doubted. What had seemed distress in Lucy's shoulders now was only the reaction of her hand reaching for something on the ground. Lucy turned a calm face to her, then back to John. She held out a lighter to John, who had frozen, bright eyes watching her.
“He dropped his lighter,” Lucy explained, standing and brushing dirt from her knees.
“I thought you were... Having some difficulties of some kind.” Amelia's brow furrowed. What the HELL had just happened? And why is she pretending nothing did? Did I imagine it?
“No, not at all.” Lucy smiled, relaxed. “Just picking up his lighter.”
Amelia suddenly realized that she was slightly intoxicated and high from Al's blood. Perhaps it was just the drugs. It had been so mellow, and the excitement of the kill so strong she'd not noticed it until now. She took a deep breath to regain her equilibrium, even though it was no longer necessary. Hadn't been necessary in decades, in fact, but some human actions died hard. She left John to his pipe, and Lucy strolled beside her, casual. They heard the car pull away and Danniella approaching, not trying for stealth.
Suddenly, John dropped his pipe, and it broke on the ground with a dull crack. He stood, and in a jerky movement, began to run. Amelia thought about going after him, but noted the look on Lucy's face was placid, as if she were watching a tennis match on television. Or maybe, Amelia thought with dark amusement, true crime television. All three of them watched as he stiffly ran to where his motorcycle was parked and jumped on it, knocking off the helmet that was propped on the handlebars. There was something distinctly wrong about the way he moved, Amelia noted, and she could smell the sour, sickly stench of cold sweat on him. He was panicking, twitching in jerks and starts. It was as if he could not control his own body.
Lucy turned from the fleeing man, quietly retrieving the broken pipe and the discarded baggie and placing them in a jacket pocket.
The bike's engire roared to life, disturbing the dark tableau. “Don't you want to stop him,” inquired Danniella, now somewhat on edge.
“I told him I wouldn't touch him. And I won't. Don't worry, it's all good,” she paused. “Or bad. Depending on who you ask, I guess.”
“Are we done here,” Amelia asked, already heading toward the two other motorcycles belonging to the deceased Pete and Al. “It was nice of them to leave their helmets.”
“Wasn't it, though?” Lucy was already picking up Al's discarded helmet.
Danniella still looked concerned. “Lucy, what if he talks? We don't need loose ends.”
“He won't,” Lucy reassured. “You wanna let me drive with you, since there are only two bikes left?”
Danniella let herself relax, the wicked enjoyment of the night overriding her concern for the errant John. “I suppose,” she gave a closed smile, “But I am driving.”
-
They heard the sound of the crash before they came upon it, even over the roar of their engines. Amelia, who was ahead of them, slid to a stop first, smoothly decelerating to a complete stop. Lucy noted absently that she seemed to be a hell of a good driver and wondered if Amelia raced professionally.
In the glare of their headlights, the twisted, smoking wreckage of Al's bike smashed on the side of the road, mirror and plastic arced in a semi-circle onto the drab dirt. Al himself was a good ten feet from the tree he'd hit, tall grass partially hiding his glassy eyed stare.
Danniella turned off her engine, noting that he seemed somehow very rigid. In the abrupt quiet, Lucy cocked her head, surveying not just the wreckage, but the area around them, as she had been doing all night. No one was tracking them, visible or invisible. Couldn't afford to be too careful about some things, and being followed by an obfuscated vamp was one of those things she had become diligent about. They were still on the edge of town, and there were no cameras here for her to worry about, thankfully. Finally reassured, she got off the bike and edged near to the shattered body, staring at him fixedly for several seconds. She grabbed a fallen branch and carefully retraced her steps, brushing over the tracks made by her boots.
“He's dead,” she pronounced and got back on the bike. Danniella felt the smallest shudder run through Lucy as she wrapped her arms around Danniella's waist. Is she afraid, or excited, or what, Danniella wondered, but didn't bother to ask. Lucy wouldn't have told her.
Danniella turned her head. “What was in that meth?”
“What do you think, dear,” purred Lucy. “I should think it would be obvious.”
Amelia spoke up. “We'd better leave.”
“Yes,” Danniella agreed, starting the engine, a slow smile growing on her face, “Let's go have a different kind of fun.”
-
The phone call came just as they were stopped at a rest stop on 127 North, deciding where to go next. Danniella spoke into the phone, voice lowered. Still Lucy heard, and Amelia heard.
After a moment, Danniella hung up the phone and turned to them. “Noah is dead,” she said.
Lucy's eyes went flat. She was in shock, and anger and grief were the tiniest seeds, beginning to sprout in her heart, as Danniella told both Amelia and Lucy the circumstances of his death.
--
They'd proceeded to the strip club, Lucy quickly becoming vivacious and witty again. Amelia and Lucy exchanged clever barbs, until the three of them were overcome with laughter.
They'd all taken turns dancing on the pole, convincing the manager to let them have a turn. There had been hoots and generous appreciation for all of them, and plenty of men brought them drinks. They'd each managed to con a piece of jewelry out of their admirers, giving it to each other as a memento of the wild night. They laughed and joked and flirted with the men, all the while exchanging silent, knowing glances with each other. Who should we take home?
Lucy disappeared for a few minutes, and Danniella found her in the rest room, head down, arms braced against the porcelain sink. Danniella saw the anguish and monstrous deep rage in her eyes briefly before the mask of calmness slammed down to cover it.
“This. WILL. Not. Stand.”
The harshness of her voice, the sheer cold flame of her voice chilled Danniella, who said nothing in return, only nodded.
It was shortly after this that Lucy came back to the table, acting her usual self. There seemed to be no trace of the Lucy that Danniella had glimpsed in the bathroom, but the memory of her eyes, and her words haunted Danniella. Now she seemed as if she were in a good enough humor, but Danniella had seen in Lucy an emotion so consuming that it had broken through her carefully cultivated expressions. And now she was pretending all was well, not talking about it. Goddess help us all when Lucy stops talking.
The night wore on, and both Danniella and Amelia found themselves some playthings to take back to Amelia's home Before they left, Amelia snuck her way into the back, returning minutes later with a beat up video tape, from which she pulled the tape as they left. “They still use VHS to record their crappy surveillance,” she explained. “There wasn't even anyone in the security room. It was ridiculously easy. Ha, secure my ass.”
Lucy gave her a wide smile of appreciation that touched her eyes. “Amelia, Spiral really chose well with you.”
It didn't surprise Danniella, really, when Lucy left, as she'd glimpsed Lucy's raw distress in that one short moment. As they parked the bikes behind Amelia's home, Lucy made her good byes, thanking them. “Another night,” she promised, “We should do this again. I was glad to meet you, Amelia.”
The blond woman nodded, a slight smile touching her face. “You as well.”
“Danniella, it was fun as always. We'll talk later.”
“Of course,” replied Danniella, hiding her concern.
They watched her leave, simply walking off into the night.
-
It was probably less than two hours before sunrise, and Danniella and Amelia lay nude on the huge bed, two vampiric graces. “Where do you think she went,” asked Amelia, breaking the silence.
Danniella sighed. “I don't know, but there may be a trail of bodies in the morning. Did you see? She really loved Noah, I think.”
Amelia stroked Danniella's hair, “Yeah, I got that. It's sad, isn't it?”
“Mmhmm,” Danniella affirmed.
“Do you really think she's VII?” Amelia couldn't tell, either way. Sure, she'd been obviously dangerous in some charismatic way, but who could tell? It wasn't like there was a tattoo on her forehead or anything.
Danniella's words were guarded. “I...Don't know, Amelia. She's never been anything but a friend to me and Alexander. But it's not something we talk about to others, you realize.”
A flash of annoyance crossed Amelia's face, “Well obviously. I'm not planning on spreading around that we just partied with someone on Mount Pleasant's Most Wanted. Give me some credit.”
Danniella sighed. “Sorry, dear. I am just distracted right now.”
“We did get some nice bikes out of the night, though,” Amelia stretched, letting her own worries go. “I like mine.”
Danniella lost herself in her thoughts. Pleasure and pain, pain and pleasure. The two go hand in hand with all three of us. But then, would we live any other way? No, probably not. Maybe it was worth it. Maybe Amelia and Lucy think it's worth it, too. That would explain our random seeming connection. What it came down to was what good thing you could count as a win in the end. “Yes. We did get nice bikes.”
How Danniella and Amelia Got Their Motorcycles
The bartender set down a beer in front of the woman in white leather, and at her raised eyebrows, he grinned. “From Pete..The guy in the bandana.” He tilted his head toward Pete.
The woman followed the bartender's gesture, meeting the gaze of the biker at the end of the bar, a slow smile crossing her dark stained lips. “Thank you,” she said, both to the bartender and Pete, who was too far away to hear. He could see her just fine. Her eyes traveled his body, appraising. She picked up the drink and pretended to drink. “Tell Pete I like his...Taste in beer.” She spoke just loud enough for the bartender to hear. He nodded and started to move away, then stopped.
“Er..Miss, I don't wanna be getting into your business or anything, but you look like a nice enough lady. But...Er.. --” He faltered.
Her dark eyes fixed on his, suddenly intense and attentive. “But what?”
“Well...” He twisted the wet bar rag in his hand, “Just be careful with Pete, alright? He's dangerous. Got a little bit of a temper on him.”
Her laughter trilled, and then she was looking intently on him again. “Don't you worry about a thing. I can handle myself. He's dangerous, sure. But me,” she gazed up at him through her lashes, that dark smile on her lips again, “I'm poison.”
For no reason he could explain, the bartender felt suddenly that she could indeed handle herself. He exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and relaxed. “Alright, good to know. You just call me if you need anything, ok?”
“Sure, Dave, sure.”
He moved away, wondering how she'd known his name.
-
The blonde woman looked at herself in the mirror, and dabbed her lipstick with a tissue. Beautiful, she thought, running her hands down the purple satin bustier she wore. She smiled at her reflection.
She was beautiful. There was an air of innocence mixed with a sultry seductiveness that attracted others to her. Even thought she'd become a vampire over a hundred and fifty years ago, that appearance of fresh innocence remained. If only they knew, she mused, how that is only a mask. My innocence is long gone.
She was stunning, which might have been part of the reason her Sire had embraced her. Or perhaps he embraced her for her daring heart, her willingness to accept the darkness of what she had become and mold herself to it. In truth, she didn't care why she'd been embraced, only that she had. The paleness of emotion that bothered others fit her perfectly, elevated her beyond the angst and repressive society that she'd come from. A frown creased her brow as the memory passed through her. Pathetic, she thought. Pathetic people from a backwards, pathetic time. This new century suited so much better.
As she pulled up the cuff of the spike heeled boots over her knees, someone spoke. It was her house ghoul, Luanna. “Mistress Danniella is here,” she said, her eyes lowered. “Shall I bring her up, Mistress Amelia?”
Amelia straightened, letting the annoyance show on her face. Although Luanna ran the house smoothly and kept the accounts in fine order, there was something that Amelia didn't like about her. Perhaps it was the underlying tone of righteous disapproval in Luanna's actions that reminded Amelia of the spirit of those days when she had been mortal. Amelia thought, not for the first time, that perhaps she'd kill her one of these days. “No, I'm coming down now.”
She brushed past her small, dark housekeeper and strode down the stairs, her face lighting with an expansive smile as she saw Danniella waiting in the foyer. “Hello,” she declared, lifting an arm dramatically to show off her outfit.
Danniella returned her smile, the darkness of the vampiric condition somehow always present in her slightest move. “Amelia,” she said, her voice cultured and somehow very proper, “You look amazing as usual.”
“Thank you,” Amelia pulled on the leather jacket. “Now, where are we going tonight, and who are we meeting? You've been rather mysterious about it.”
Danniella raised an eyebrow, preferring to remain enigmatic. How does she DO that , Amelia wondered. Must be the Ventrue blood.
“Darling, you'll love it. I told you before, we're meeting a friend of mine. She's not hindered by our...rules. And she and I share similar interests.”
“She's a little crazy, then,” joked Amelia. “She must be if you're friends.”
Danniella's smile grew wider. “She's...Slightly sociopathic, dear. Just like you.” She opened the door, holding it for Amelia.
Together, they walked into the night.
_________________________________________________________
Danniella stepped out of the car, eyebrow raised as she looked at the seedy building with its neon “Open” sign blinking. She noted the motorcycles in front of the bar and smiled. “This should be fun,” she said, adjusting her short coat.
Although she was going out to let off steam tonight, Danniella could not bring herself to wear jeans. She was a vision of class in designer slacks and boots, a red camisole underneath the tailored jacket. Her outfit spoke of a rich girl, out to play. In truth, Danniella could not do grunge or blue collar, even if she had tried - which, of course, she never would. She was a Ventrue, through and through. She was beautiful, in a cool, calculating and reserved way. Some had called her “The Ice Princess” before, and she had to admit, she secretly liked it, although it would be too much for her to ever reveal that. She had too tight a control on her outward emotions. Emotions displayed to those who did not know her were a weakness. To those who did know, her, however, she did occasionally reveal the torrent of wild emotion that sometimes took her. Poor Alexander, she mused , thinking of her Sire, How many times have I bitten you in rage? Too many. Ah well. You love me still.
She barely looked back as Amelia got out of the car and instructed the driver that he could go. “We'll find our own way back,” Amelia said.
As the driver pulled away from the curb and into the light traffic, the two women approached the door to the bar. “Your friend hangs out here ,” Amelia asked, somewhat dubious. “Is she a biker chick?”
Danniella shrugged, blue eyes catching Amelia for an instant. “Oh, she's worse than that, dear. She can't hang out in Elysium, you see. This is just where she wanted to meet us.”
Can't hang out in Elysium? Amelia frowned, and followed Danniella in.
_
The bar was a stereotype, filled with smoke and laughter and the reverberation of the Karoake machine. A woman in white leather belted out “Back in Black” to an appreciative audience comprised mostly of tattooed men in bike culture clothing. As they moved to an open table, the woman's strong voice permeated the room, beautiful and dangerous. As she is, herself, Amelia thought. Where do I know her from?
They sat, and a harried waitress wandered over to take their drink order. Predictably, Danniella ordered a red wine, while Amelia declined a drink. “I do not drink...wine,” she said, earning a grin from Danniella.
The song over, the dark haired woman stepped from the stage, bowing extravagantly and blowing a kiss to her admirers. She made her way to Danniella and Amelia. Danniella raised an eyebrow at her. “You have a great voice,” she stated.
The woman smiled. There was a hint of something mischievous in her good humor. “What do you think I did in my past life, Danniella? I was a lounge singer.” Her voice held the strong accent of the East Coast. Jersey? New York? Amelia wasn't sure.
Danniella nodded towards the woman. “Amelia,” she began, “I'd like you to meet a friend of mine. This is Lucy Strychnine.”
Amelia's eyebrows shot up, the only sign of her surprise. “Strychnine? Aren't you --”
“Bloodhunted, yeah,” Lucy said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. “It's all a big political lie, but whatever.” Her last word came out as “whatevah.”
Danniella continued. “And this is Amelia. I've told you a little about her.”
“Spiral's Childe, right?”
“Is that a problem?” Amelia sat straighter.
Lucy waived the question off. “Nah. You come from good blood. Technically, I guess we're in the same House together. Do you have a problem with me?”
Amelia shook her head. “Nope. Not that I know of.”
“Good, then. Let's have some fun.” Lucy pulled out a cigarette and lit it. “My buddy Pete is right over there. You'll get to know him later.”
Danniella glanced to where Lucy gestured. A big man wearing a bandana nodded in their direction from over his pool stick. There were several men with him, watching him and another man playing pool. “Bikers,” Danniella sighed, “They all look alike. And all so.... Yummy.”
Amelia laughed. Lucy grinned. “They're going to be our rides tonight, just like we talked about.”
“Oh,” Danniella responded, cooly, “And provide us our dinner, as well?”
“Very likely.”
Lucy narrowed her eyes. She'd spent the greater part of two months casing this bar, this particular biker gang that Pete belonged to. They belonged to Ratchet, and as far as she was concerned, it was reason enough for them to be destroyed. But it went beyond that, justifying their demise fully in her mind when she had filtered the dirty little secrets some of them had from their unsuspecting minds.
“Lemme tell ya a little something about Pete,” she began, turning her attention back to Danniella's perfect cool countenance. “Pete served time for a rape he committed back in 1998. Got out for good behavior a couple of years ago. What the law doesn't know is that he likes to get drunk and molest his sixteen year old cousin weekly.”
Amelia grimaced. “Sick fuck,” she muttered.
“Indeed,” Danniella agreed.
“Yeah,” Lucy continued, “He likes it when they can't fight back. He hates women.”
Danniella growled, low in the back of her throat.
“On the good side, he does have a nice bike that he'll be giving us.” Lucy inhaled smoke, her eyes glinting. “And it just so happens he's got a couple of friends - well, gang brothers, too, that share his hatred of women and his love of the smoke. That's them -” she pointed a red manicured nail. “Al is the shorter one. He like to beat up his girlfriends. There's even a suspicious death of one of them in his past. But of course they couldn't prove anything. His boss got him a good lawyer.”
“His boss? Who's his boss?” Amelia asked.
“Whoever runs the gang, I guess,” Lucy hedged. “There's big money in running gangs, and whoever runs it rakes in the most cash. Hell, just ask any Carthian. They could tell you.” She paused. “Of course, not all gangs are run by Carthians. They just know the value better than most.”
Danniella studied Lucy for a moment, and decided she didn't want to know. Yeah, Lucy clearly knew something she wasn't saying, but Danniella also knew there were reasons she wasn't saying it. Plausible deniability , thought Danniella. Isn't that a big one on Lucy's Rules to Live By? Yeah, it was. She decided Lucy could have this secret.
“And the other guy, the thin one, he's John. John's been killing people left and right for years now, but they don't know it. He does, though.”
Amelia leaned forward. “Killing them how?”
Lucy pursed her lips. “He's got HIV, and he knows it. He doesn't give a damn who he infects. He sleeps with every woman he can, and he doesn't use protection. It gives him a cheap thrill, a feeling of power to do what he does. He used to be a meth-head, but he's been clean for several years now, though he still craves it. The only thing close to that high is the feeling of playing God now, dealing death to whoever he screws. His boss thought he did him a favor by getting him clean, but he just made him into even more of a monster.”
“Scum,” Danniella spat.
“Yeah,” agreed Amelia, warming, “And we're the fucking angels of death.”
Lucy felt a slow smile creep on to her face. “Angels of death. I like it.” Abruptly, she stood. “Be right back,” she said, and strutted over to the pool tables.
They watched as she bent over, whispering something in Pete's ear. He straightened, a grin on his face as he looked over at Danniella and Amelia. He glanced at Lucy, and was about to put up his pool stick and follow when a burst of raucous laughter drew everyone's attention. A gaggle of scantily dressed women entered, and upon a quick survey of the room, their buxom, raven haired leader saw Pete and headed straight for him. “Petey!” Cawed the dark haired woman, “Baby, gimme some sugar!”
A bemused look crossed Lucy's face, and she whispered something else into his ear, and left him to the bevy of women. She headed back to Danniella and Amelia. “Let's go, ladies,” she said.
“But what about Pete and his friends?”
“Can't be seen leaving the bar with them, can we? Don't worry, they'll meet us in about a half an hour, not to far from here. Those...ladies.. won't keep them for long. Besides, it's a short walk.”
Danniella shook her head, “I despise walking,” she grumbled, not really serious.
Amelia nudged her. “You need to get out more. Live like the common folk.”
Danniella sniffed loudly. “Lucy, why must you do things in such a draconian knot?”
“Makes unlife interesting,” Lucy explained, laughing. “What fun would it be otherwise?”
_
“Relax, John,” Lucy held the man close, stilling his shaking, “It's alright. It's going to be alright.”
“She fucking...She killed Pete! She fucking killed him!!!” His voice was rising to hysteria, the whites of his eyes almost glowing in the moonlight spilling down over the darkened, makeshift campsite in the woods.
“Hush,” Lucy whispered, lips caressing his ear. “You did some bad shit, John. Nobody killed anybody.”
“I- I SAW it, man! She fucking ripped his throat out with her fucking teeth! J-Jesus Christ!”
Amelia's low whisper came from his other side, “Well, he DID try to rape her, John. Did you see that? Did you know that he would try to rape her?”
“Yes! I mean, no! I mean...He didn't mean it...She's a crazy bitch!”
Lucy patted his arm, and glanced at the shaking man and Amelia. “You two be alright for a second? I'm gonna ask Danniella if she needs any help.”
Amelia nodded. She felt free, freer than she'd felt in a long time. God, it feels good to let go once in a while. She pulled John close to her, whispering poisoned words to him in a deceptively soft voice.
As Lucy reached Danniella, the glare of car lights blinded her for a moment. Danniella was dusting off her slacks, staring down at the bloody body before her. She didn't seem to notice the car slowing on the gravel road until Lucy called her attention to it. “Danniella. Car?”
“Ah, yes. I called my driver. I need to take the bodies elsewhere, and cut them into pieces. We don't have time tonight.” She was all business now. “Help me with him, will you?”
“Sure.”
They lifted the ragged man's body, Lucy taking the legs and Danniella taking his arms. “Pop the trunk,” Danniella instructed the driver, who had rolled down his window. He nodded, looking a little pale.
“Ah, Danniella,” Lucy purred, as they stuffed the body in the plastic lined trunk, “I adore you, do you know that? You didn't get a drop of blood on your clothing. One would think you'd done this before.”
“A lady never reveals her secrets.” Danniella looked up from the body, “And I adore you, darling. Now, what are you going to do with yours? The man is probably crazy by now.”
Lucy flapped it away. “Oh, we'll take care of him in a minute. Let's go get Amelia's kill.”
They approached the campsite where Amelia sat, still whispering into John's ear. His eyes rolled in terror. “Amelia,” Lucy warned, “Don't you dare kill him of fright. You already got yours.”
Amelia smirked. “It gives a whole new meaning to the word 'stiff,' doesn't it?”
Lucy laughed, her voice rich in the night, and she and Danniella looked down over Al's corpse.
“Damn,” Lucy said, “You did a nice job on this one, Amelia. I think he still has a hard on.”
Amelia looked up, and laughed. “Well, men do always say they want to die that way, don't they?”
“I don't even think he knows he's dead,” remarked Danniella. “I do believe he's smiling.”
“I had him begging for it,” commented Amelia, with some pride.
“That you did,” agreed Lucy.
John began to moan, softly, and Lucy huffed. She was suddenly in front of him. “Goddammit, John. You need to cut it out. Don't you realize that you brought this on yourself?”
“I didn't do nothin--” he found his voice, and began to protest weakly.
Lucy's eyes grew hard. “Really? Do you want to play this game, John? Do you really want to disappoint Amelia here by adding LIES to your list of crimes?”
Amelia patted John's head, “That would really disappoint me John. It would disappoint all of us. You don't want to do that. We really can't stand liars.”
“Confession is good for the soul,” Chimed in Danniella.
His gaze shifted between them, frightened, confused. “We know what you did, baby,” Lucy crooned, suddenly soft, persuasive. She reached out and took his hand. “We know what it's like to want to control something in your life, even if it hurts someone else. That's all you were doing, isn't it? Having control makes you feel powerful, doesn't it? The power of life and death, in your hands? Believe me, I can see the appeal.”
He swallowed, and rubbed a weak hand through his hair. “You understand? You...You get it?”
“Oh yes, we get it,” Danniella whispered.
“Oh God,” he moaned, “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” Tears ran down his face.
“It's karma,” Lucy sighed, and stood. “As ye sow, so shall ye reap, and all that. Ya got me, John?”
He snuffled. “Please don't kill me. Please don't kill me like that...Like them..” His eyes pleaded with all of them. Amelia smiled softly at him, brushing his hair back.
“That's not my choice to make,” Lucy looked down at him. “It's yours, and you already made it.”
“No, no, no! I--”
Amelia shushed him, her slender white fingers gently resting upon his lips. “I could take you like I did your friend,” she crooned. “You'd like it.”
His eyes widened again.
Lucy crossed her arms, white leather glowing in the moonlight. “Tell ya what, John-boy. I just made a decision. I won't touch you. None of us will. You got a choice, though.”
He licked his lips, nervously.
Danniella cocked her head, curious.
Lucy pulled a clear plastic baggy from her pocket, the small pale lump inside drawing his attention instantly. “You know what this is,” she asked.
He nodded, shivering.
“You've been off this shit for, what, three years now? You think now would be the time to take it up again?”
“Oh, man,” he moaned, starting to rise without even realizing it. Amelia raised an eyebrow, pulling John back down to sit next to her. “Not so fast, babe. Hold on.”
“So here's the deal. You either help us clean up this site, and then trust us to take you home, safe and sound and you NEVER speak of what happened here. OR, you sit here, smoke up some courage, and walk your ass home. I don't care, either way. We don't need to kill you. I'm betting you'll kill yourself.”
There was a long pause, in which Danniella could see the inner turmoil in his eyes, could almost hear himself justifying why it would be ok, just this once, to fall off the wagon. Just this once.
He reached out for the baggie Lucy dangled before him. Without expression, she dropped it into his palm, and reached inside her coat to pull out a small glass pipe. “This shit is gonna kill ya. You know that, right?”
He shrugged weakly, fumbling with the baggie. “What the hell? I'm gonna die someday anyway.”
Lucy sighed. “Your choice, John-boy. Don't say I didn't warn ya.” She turned away from him, and began to help Danniella move Al's body. As Amelia joined them, they heard the 'snick snick snick' of a lighter.
As Al's body was shoved into the trunk, Danniella glanced at Lucy, questioning. “Should I leave it open,” she asked.
Lucy shrugged. “Don't think so. Go ahead and close it.”
Danniella shrugged, a gesture that somehow seemed businesslike on her. “Ok.”
She closed the trunk, then opened one of the back doors, leaning down to pick up a bottle. Amelia raised an eyebrow, hips cocked. “What are you doing?”
Danniella straightened, and held up the bottle. “Bleach,” she said, walking past the two women, “For the blood spilled on the ground.”
Lucy's laughter followed her as she marched to the rough patch of tangled weeds where the man had bled out. The soft crunching of her steps through the brush mixed with the sound of distant cars on the highway, and the night was cooling. None of the women felt it.
Amelia moved to be near Danniella, inhaling the sharp scent of the bleach and hearing the thin splashes of Clorox onto the grass. “Damn, you think of everything,” she said, her voice silky.
Danniella smiled tightly. “It'll really mess up any forensics, should anyone ever think to come out to these woods.”
“Doubt it,” Amelia shrugged.
“Yeah, me too.”
Amelia's attention wandered away from Danniella for a moment, scanning the mostly barren trees of early April. It had been raining off and on this week, and the last dead leaves from the previous autumn had mostly been washed from their tenuous holds on the branches. It smelled of the loamy promise of spring. The bleach was foreign and invasive. Unnatural. Just like us, she thought. God, sometimes I hate natural. I'd burn this all right now, if I thought it would do anything but smoke in all this dampness. She smiled to herself, turning the idea over in her mind idly.
Lucy passed by them, a glimpse of white as she wound through the sparse trees, heading in John's direction. Amelia could see him, still holding the pipe, just sitting. His eyes were closed. “I think she's going to kill him,” Amelia whispered to Danniella. Danniella nodded, and replaced the lid on the empty bottle.
Amelia watched as John the methhead looked up at the woman in white, regal and dangerous before him. The White Queen. The moniker pleased her, as clever words always did. She's the holy hell on wheels white queen. And what kind of Mekhet wears white? Perhaps one in hiding , she mused, wryly.
Danniella went back to the car, and Amelia stood, watching Lucy and the man, lit only by the moon. Lucy spoke softly to John, and he shakily tried to light the pipe again, even though the rock was nothing but residue, smoked ten minutes ago. Her words were too low to be heard, but it looked almost as if she were...What? Blessing him, maybe? As if she were a high priestess blessing a sacrifice? Odd. She wasn't sure, but Lucy hadn't struck her as a religious type. Lucy pushed John's hair tenderly from his eyes. She leaned over and whispered something in his ear, and both of them visibly shivered. In fact, it seemed to her that Lucy shuddered more fiercely than John did when she spoke. WHAT did she just say? Amelia suddenly wanted to know.
John inhaled phantom smoke from the pipe, and Lucy stood tall before him. In that instant, as fast as thought, Amelia could have sworn she saw the image of a young, eerily beautiful man standing behind John, his hand resting on John's shoulder. In that instant, Lucy crashed to her knees before John and the ethereal (Being? Ghost?) man behind him. Ignoring her usual caution, Amelia raced to them. “Lucy?”
She could have sworn she heard Lucy gasp, but whatever illusion she thought she'd seen was no longer there, if she'd even seen it at all, which she suddenly highly doubted. What had seemed distress in Lucy's shoulders now was only the reaction of her hand reaching for something on the ground. Lucy turned a calm face to her, then back to John. She held out a lighter to John, who had frozen, bright eyes watching her.
“He dropped his lighter,” Lucy explained, standing and brushing dirt from her knees.
“I thought you were... Having some difficulties of some kind.” Amelia's brow furrowed. What the HELL had just happened? And why is she pretending nothing did? Did I imagine it?
“No, not at all.” Lucy smiled, relaxed. “Just picking up his lighter.”
Amelia suddenly realized that she was slightly intoxicated and high from Al's blood. Perhaps it was just the drugs. It had been so mellow, and the excitement of the kill so strong she'd not noticed it until now. She took a deep breath to regain her equilibrium, even though it was no longer necessary. Hadn't been necessary in decades, in fact, but some human actions died hard. She left John to his pipe, and Lucy strolled beside her, casual. They heard the car pull away and Danniella approaching, not trying for stealth.
Suddenly, John dropped his pipe, and it broke on the ground with a dull crack. He stood, and in a jerky movement, began to run. Amelia thought about going after him, but noted the look on Lucy's face was placid, as if she were watching a tennis match on television. Or maybe, Amelia thought with dark amusement, true crime television. All three of them watched as he stiffly ran to where his motorcycle was parked and jumped on it, knocking off the helmet that was propped on the handlebars. There was something distinctly wrong about the way he moved, Amelia noted, and she could smell the sour, sickly stench of cold sweat on him. He was panicking, twitching in jerks and starts. It was as if he could not control his own body.
Lucy turned from the fleeing man, quietly retrieving the broken pipe and the discarded baggie and placing them in a jacket pocket.
The bike's engire roared to life, disturbing the dark tableau. “Don't you want to stop him,” inquired Danniella, now somewhat on edge.
“I told him I wouldn't touch him. And I won't. Don't worry, it's all good,” she paused. “Or bad. Depending on who you ask, I guess.”
“Are we done here,” Amelia asked, already heading toward the two other motorcycles belonging to the deceased Pete and Al. “It was nice of them to leave their helmets.”
“Wasn't it, though?” Lucy was already picking up Al's discarded helmet.
Danniella still looked concerned. “Lucy, what if he talks? We don't need loose ends.”
“He won't,” Lucy reassured. “You wanna let me drive with you, since there are only two bikes left?”
Danniella let herself relax, the wicked enjoyment of the night overriding her concern for the errant John. “I suppose,” she gave a closed smile, “But I am driving.”
-
They heard the sound of the crash before they came upon it, even over the roar of their engines. Amelia, who was ahead of them, slid to a stop first, smoothly decelerating to a complete stop. Lucy noted absently that she seemed to be a hell of a good driver and wondered if Amelia raced professionally.
In the glare of their headlights, the twisted, smoking wreckage of Al's bike smashed on the side of the road, mirror and plastic arced in a semi-circle onto the drab dirt. Al himself was a good ten feet from the tree he'd hit, tall grass partially hiding his glassy eyed stare.
Danniella turned off her engine, noting that he seemed somehow very rigid. In the abrupt quiet, Lucy cocked her head, surveying not just the wreckage, but the area around them, as she had been doing all night. No one was tracking them, visible or invisible. Couldn't afford to be too careful about some things, and being followed by an obfuscated vamp was one of those things she had become diligent about. They were still on the edge of town, and there were no cameras here for her to worry about, thankfully. Finally reassured, she got off the bike and edged near to the shattered body, staring at him fixedly for several seconds. She grabbed a fallen branch and carefully retraced her steps, brushing over the tracks made by her boots.
“He's dead,” she pronounced and got back on the bike. Danniella felt the smallest shudder run through Lucy as she wrapped her arms around Danniella's waist. Is she afraid, or excited, or what, Danniella wondered, but didn't bother to ask. Lucy wouldn't have told her.
Danniella turned her head. “What was in that meth?”
“What do you think, dear,” purred Lucy. “I should think it would be obvious.”
Amelia spoke up. “We'd better leave.”
“Yes,” Danniella agreed, starting the engine, a slow smile growing on her face, “Let's go have a different kind of fun.”
-
The phone call came just as they were stopped at a rest stop on 127 North, deciding where to go next. Danniella spoke into the phone, voice lowered. Still Lucy heard, and Amelia heard.
After a moment, Danniella hung up the phone and turned to them. “Noah is dead,” she said.
Lucy's eyes went flat. She was in shock, and anger and grief were the tiniest seeds, beginning to sprout in her heart, as Danniella told both Amelia and Lucy the circumstances of his death.
--
They'd proceeded to the strip club, Lucy quickly becoming vivacious and witty again. Amelia and Lucy exchanged clever barbs, until the three of them were overcome with laughter.
They'd all taken turns dancing on the pole, convincing the manager to let them have a turn. There had been hoots and generous appreciation for all of them, and plenty of men brought them drinks. They'd each managed to con a piece of jewelry out of their admirers, giving it to each other as a memento of the wild night. They laughed and joked and flirted with the men, all the while exchanging silent, knowing glances with each other. Who should we take home?
Lucy disappeared for a few minutes, and Danniella found her in the rest room, head down, arms braced against the porcelain sink. Danniella saw the anguish and monstrous deep rage in her eyes briefly before the mask of calmness slammed down to cover it.
“This. WILL. Not. Stand.”
The harshness of her voice, the sheer cold flame of her voice chilled Danniella, who said nothing in return, only nodded.
It was shortly after this that Lucy came back to the table, acting her usual self. There seemed to be no trace of the Lucy that Danniella had glimpsed in the bathroom, but the memory of her eyes, and her words haunted Danniella. Now she seemed as if she were in a good enough humor, but Danniella had seen in Lucy an emotion so consuming that it had broken through her carefully cultivated expressions. And now she was pretending all was well, not talking about it. Goddess help us all when Lucy stops talking.
The night wore on, and both Danniella and Amelia found themselves some playthings to take back to Amelia's home Before they left, Amelia snuck her way into the back, returning minutes later with a beat up video tape, from which she pulled the tape as they left. “They still use VHS to record their crappy surveillance,” she explained. “There wasn't even anyone in the security room. It was ridiculously easy. Ha, secure my ass.”
Lucy gave her a wide smile of appreciation that touched her eyes. “Amelia, Spiral really chose well with you.”
It didn't surprise Danniella, really, when Lucy left, as she'd glimpsed Lucy's raw distress in that one short moment. As they parked the bikes behind Amelia's home, Lucy made her good byes, thanking them. “Another night,” she promised, “We should do this again. I was glad to meet you, Amelia.”
The blond woman nodded, a slight smile touching her face. “You as well.”
“Danniella, it was fun as always. We'll talk later.”
“Of course,” replied Danniella, hiding her concern.
They watched her leave, simply walking off into the night.
-
It was probably less than two hours before sunrise, and Danniella and Amelia lay nude on the huge bed, two vampiric graces. “Where do you think she went,” asked Amelia, breaking the silence.
Danniella sighed. “I don't know, but there may be a trail of bodies in the morning. Did you see? She really loved Noah, I think.”
Amelia stroked Danniella's hair, “Yeah, I got that. It's sad, isn't it?”
“Mmhmm,” Danniella affirmed.
“Do you really think she's VII?” Amelia couldn't tell, either way. Sure, she'd been obviously dangerous in some charismatic way, but who could tell? It wasn't like there was a tattoo on her forehead or anything.
Danniella's words were guarded. “I...Don't know, Amelia. She's never been anything but a friend to me and Alexander. But it's not something we talk about to others, you realize.”
A flash of annoyance crossed Amelia's face, “Well obviously. I'm not planning on spreading around that we just partied with someone on Mount Pleasant's Most Wanted. Give me some credit.”
Danniella sighed. “Sorry, dear. I am just distracted right now.”
“We did get some nice bikes out of the night, though,” Amelia stretched, letting her own worries go. “I like mine.”
Danniella lost herself in her thoughts. Pleasure and pain, pain and pleasure. The two go hand in hand with all three of us. But then, would we live any other way? No, probably not. Maybe it was worth it. Maybe Amelia and Lucy think it's worth it, too. That would explain our random seeming connection. What it came down to was what good thing you could count as a win in the end. “Yes. We did get nice bikes.”