Chapter 23

The doorman stares with dismay at Lilly’s long blonde hair and too normal make-up, before casting his disdainful expression in my direction. He has ‘LOVE’ and ‘HATE’ tattooed on his knuckles. He tugs at the cuffs of his shirt, jerks his neck and blocks our entrance, while letting in a motley group of black clad, Marilyn Manson look-alikes - it’s hard to distinguish male from female.

‘Not Goth, no entry.’ He looks awkward and wrong in his black tuxedo.

‘We’re not poor imitations, we’re the real thing,’ Lilly says smiling; the long points of her fangs are so visible that I gasp with excitement.

‘Why didn’t you say so?’ The bouncer nods, stepping back. ‘First door on the left ...’

I realise I’ve been holding my breath as my lungs begin to ache and I take a shuddering wheeze to ease the pressure. Lilly grabs my arm as the smell of salt and iron fills the air and we halt, overcome by the aroma.

‘Blood.’

‘Yes,’ I agree.

She surges forward. I hold her arm; make her walk in a controlled and dignified way. She stumbles, pulling against me for a while before our paces match and we walk slower. The door ahead opens as though of its own volition just as we reach it.

‘Biter or donor?’ asks another bouncer, this one younger and less rough in appearance, seems to suit his stark black outfit despite his eyebrow and lip piercing.

‘Biter,’ I confirm.

‘Good, we’ve more donors in tonight.’

We walk through a dark cavern that leads to a small reception room. The room is dimly lit and stark. The midnight ceiling is low, almost touching my head. Black and purple walls suffocate the meagre lighting but my eyes adjust instantly to the gloom and I see small alcoves line the walls glowing with the light from a single candle standing in the tarnished candelabras that hang from above. Each holds renaissance-style chairs covered with thick dark purple fabric and a table with a black lace cloth draped over it. Cliché. I gulp back a patronising smile. I feel like an experienced pornographer visiting a back alley adult sex shop.

‘You’re new here.’

A small, pale girl stands before us. She is wearing a long Wicca black dress and her hair shines blue-black in the candlelight. She holds out an antique silver tray that is covered with glistening, raw razor blades.

‘We never re-use or recycle.’ Smiling she shows her fake fangs. ‘There’s a yellow plastic bin in each alcove. You ditch them in there when you’ve finished.’

‘Of course.’ I return her over-zealous smile as I reach out and take a blade. Lilly takes one, but remains silent.

‘Obviously, it’s a donors’ market. They like you, they give,’ the Wicca girl continues. ‘I’m a donor. I swing both ways.’ Her eyes sweep us. ‘I like you - both.’

My skin prickles as I feel Lilly look at me.

‘That would suit us. My friend is hungrier than I am. Where?’

‘Follow me.’

Our new donor leads us farther into the room past the Goths who are kissing and more in the corner of the room. She raises a black curtain to reveal a door. She quickly dips under it, pushing open the other entrance and I move to follow. Lilly grabs my arm as I reach out to the curtain.

‘I don’t swing both ways.’

‘It’s not sex, its food.’

‘Funny, you seem to like fucking yours.’

‘Not anymore.’ I shake my head and look deeply into her green pools of anxiety.

She’s stiff, unmoving. Still I pull her into my arms. Her lips are ruby in the artificial twilight. I kiss her softly but she doesn’t react. She is terrified, though of what I am unsure.

‘Get off,’ she replies finally, but there is no fight in her.

Her mouth opens, responding despite herself and I kiss her long and deep until we are both breathless.

‘I promise,’ I say, reluctantly pulling back, ‘no sex. Just blood. I wouldn’t like it if you were ...’

She blinks, surprised.

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know. But I definitely don’t want you with a male donor. It could so easily turn sexual.’

Her eyes nod her acceptance.

‘Okay. Let’s go. I’m famished.’

The curtain rises and our ‘donor’ stares out at us through watery yellow eyes.

‘Problem?’

I shake my head.

Behind the curtain is a door leading into a small room. It is sparse inside with only a three-quarter four poster bed, a chair and an antique bureau.

‘What’s your name?’ Lilly asks as she looks around the room.

‘They call me Serena.’

‘I think we need something to get us in the mood,’ I suggest.

Serena smiles knowingly, closing the door against the black of the outside curtain. She rams home a well-oiled bolt, that barely squeaks. Then she moves over to the bureau, opens it and pulls out a tray holding a decanter filled with a ruby red liquid and some crystal glasses. She pours slowly. It sounds like blood dripping from a major artery; I wonder how long she has cultivated this skill to achieve just the right amount of trickle. She holds out a glass. I take mine and sniff the contents. Mmmm ... wine with a trace of blood. Nothing else hidden within.

‘It smells like you,’ I tell Serena.

She pulls back the long drooping sleeve of her dress and I see the tiny bandage covering her wrist. Her lower arm bears the healed and healing scars of previous donations.

‘My own brand. This is my regular room.’

So. Serena is not merely a willing patron; she will require some recompense for her contribution.

‘How much?’ I ask.

‘I’m not cheap, but I come with a guarantee.’

Slowly she turns again to open her bureau. Inside the top drawer she pulls out a piece of paper. A certificate.

‘I’m clean. No, syph, AIDS, hepatitis. I offer peace of mind, unlike the freebies in the alcoves. So a hundred for a small donation.’

Lilly is shocked.

‘You’re a prostitute?’

‘Oh, puhhlease! What I’m selling is far rarer than sex. Though I’m not averse to it, if the mood is right; I offer blood, discretion and no nasty surprises.’

‘You are exactly what we want,’ I tell her as I raise the glass to my lips and sip at the wine. ‘Yes. You’ll do nicely. Taste it, Lilly.’

Lilly swigs, deliberately unladylike, but I refuse to let her bait me. The rush from the blood hits her and her pupils dilate immediately. Her expression becomes glazed and she throws back the contents of the glass. She sways on her feet for a moment, before her eyes refocus, landing on Serena. The face of the seductress replaces the familiar soft lines of my beauty as she moves in with feral determination on the unsuspecting Serena. I block her, pushing back the pride that threatens to develop my ego to obscene proportions; I would love to watch her take this girl how she wants, but - would Lilly recover from the horror of it?

‘We are willing to pay double for a large quantity of blood. How willing are you?’ I ask.

Serena has trouble looking away from Lilly, her head turns to me but her eyes stay on my lover.

‘Gave a lot, once before ... It was good. He was ... like you two. I ... yes ... I want that ...’

‘Like us?’

‘Yes.’

‘A man?’

‘More than that ... the real thing. You’re ‘real’ aren’t you?’

Serena sighs; her too thin body leans into me but she slides against my hip and around me making herself more accessible to Lilly. Serena’s nose has been broken in two places and badly fixed. I wonder who or what did this to her? But it’s irrelevant. I step back. I have to let Lilly do this. It will strengthen her, make her more mine.

The air is tense. Serena’s aura has come alive as a reaction to the blood lust. Lilly touches her and the tension soars. The air crackles with unchecked energy. I fight the urge to intrude again. Serena is clay in her hands, as Lilly moulds her. ‘No teeth. No evidence ...’ I whisper holding out the razor blade but Lilly has hers clutched in her eager fingers.

The wrist bandage flutters to the floor and Lilly carefully opens the raw wound beneath, drawing a thin red line along the vein. Serena sighs, shudders. Arousal scents the air, drowning out all other smells, even the blood as it bubbles up and out of her wrist. I guide them both to the bed, feeling like a pimp, as Lilly licks delicately at the wound. Serena stretches out, her sharp body forms the shape of the pentagram; her face matches her name. Lilly crouches over her, and the tender licking becomes greedier as she clamps her mouth over the gape and sucks. Perspiration pops up on my brow. I am painfully stimulated by the whimpering murmurs that escape the willing victim’s lips. I look away from them both, wiping my hand over my mouth but I can’t shake the vision, so I have to look back. I feel like Victor Frankenstein watching my creature come alive. Lilly stretches out beside Serena and her chocolate brown skirt rides up to reveal her brown legs. I turn away as the tan flesh begins to whiten with every gulp of blood. The sleeve of Serena’s dress pushes farther up her arm revealing still more tiny scars in her powdery flesh. How many? Over a hundred. I begin to count them to distract myself from the vision of their bodies moulding together.

Serena’s throat convulses. I snap alert. Lilly’s hunger is still too ravenous and Serena’s arm is bloody pulp.

‘Lilly. Stop!’

I hurry forward roughly pulling at her, but her strength is shockingly equal to mine. Serena’s limbs float like feathers in the wind with every tug on Lilly’s arm.

‘Lilly. You’re killing her. Look,’ I say gently.

Lilly is oblivious. Her blood lust is all she sees and all she can hear is the rapidly decreasing sound of Serena’s heart beat as the blood loses its fight to pump and I know how delectable that can be ...

‘Lilly. For God sake!’

My head pounds in response to the slowing thud. I release her. Step back. We are killers. Maybe this is how it should be. She will have to learn the hard way, like I did. She will harden her heart to the death and then she and I will be truly alike. This was what I wanted, wasn’t it?

But no. I promised her that I would not let her go too far.

‘No. Killing this girl will change you ... I don’t think I want that.’

But I am powerless. All I can do is look on until the frenzy slows. As I hear Serena’s heart flow still slower, Lilly looks up at me through the bulk of blonde waves that drape over the bloody arm like a silken shroud. Grudgingly she pulls away, throwing a fleeting glance down at the pale girl. She licks her lips.

‘I think I went too far,’ she sighs.

‘Perhaps.’ Yes. She did.

She stretches with feline beauty. New muscles shift under the surface of her bare arms and she looks at her glowing skin, her eyes widening with surprise.

‘How do you feel?’

As she rises gracefully to her feet, she looks once more at Serena lying unconscious; her small chest labouring against the cheese-cloth Wicca dress.

‘Sexy.’ She smiles. ‘I feel, very, very, sexy.’

Her arms are around my neck before I have chance to assimilate her words. She kisses me; her mouth tastes of blood and I pull her to me.

‘Lilly ...’

I lick nectar from her tongue, lap at the teeth and gums taking away the last traces of Serena’s lifeblood. I draw her nearer, her strong body compresses against mine as she squeezes back. My heart beat feels as though it will burst my chest. She’s mine. Love and passion, not the lust, drives me as I kiss her willing mouth; but still she holds back. Pushing me away, she hurries to the door, unbolts it and lifts the curtain. A gush of air wafts in and I am left unsatisfied once more ... Will she ever surrender again?

From the corner of my eye I see the tiny ripple of air lift and drop the papers on the bureau and I catch a glimpse of a photograph as it falls in apparent slow motion to the floor.

On the tacky purple carpet the picture lands face up. The same limpid expression in a smaller body; a male child. I look back at the still body, the glassy eyes, Serena’s lifeless posture. I reach in my pocket for my bulging wallet and stuff the promised money into the bureau, stepping over the photograph as I walk towards the door.

‘I need to see my parents one last time,’ Lilly says, dropping the curtain down behind us as we exit.

And now I know; she has changed - but is it for the best?