Life as a vampire wasn’t exactly how Eloim had imagined it. For one thing there were rules, and frequent punishment when he ignored those rules. Secondly he had lessons to learn, far too many lessons in his opinion. A vampire needed to learn to use the powers and abilities of his kind, many of which took hours of practice to master. He didn’t much mind those practical lessons as he found most of them easy to pick up. Already he had mastered many of the abilities that some of his older siblings still struggled with. He seemed to have a natural ability that he knew pleased his tutors; once told how an ability or power was harnessed, it felt more like he was not learning it, but more remembering how it worked. Controlling other creatures and making humans bend to his will he could now do without a second thought. He was still struggling with the control of other supernatural creatures, but vampires twice his age struggled with those lessons he was now being taught.
The lessons he hated though, were those about the history and lore of his people. The rules of the Ancients had been set down millennia ago on a different plane of existence that the vampires still held to. The legends spoke of the War of the Bloodlines where vampires had all but destroyed themselves before the survivors found the gateways to the human worlds. He knew his Father and Mother sat upon the High Council and his clan was different to many of the other vampire houses. For a start it was run as a family unit ruled by two equal vampires, which was unique amongst vampire kind. Still young, less than two decades into his vampire life, he listened enough to know that not all the vampire houses were friendly to his clan. The life of a vampire was dangerous. A lone vampire with no clan would not last long, as hunting grounds were protected and to feed in another clan’s area would see you hunted down. Humans also hunted their kind, as well as other supernatural creatures that had also found their way into this world. He understood that a war raged out there in the world but he just didn’t care enough to learn about it. Eloim dismissed those lessons as irrelevant as he was safe within his clan’s heartland, a sprawling vibrant city with food aplenty. The humans, though, were more than just cattle to the young vampire; certain aspects of their lives fascinated him. He would spend hours looking at magazines and watching television, where young skinny humans would parade around in outlandish outfits for other rich humans to admire. Eloim was obsessed by fashion and in particular female fashion, the more outlandish the better. This obsession didn’t just stop at looking at it though. He owned more outfits than most millionaires’ trophy wives, and his boot collection numbered in the thousands. His style made many of his family cringe as he would walk past, especially his sisters. It wasn’t just the fact that he cross-dressed, it was the fact that he carried off even the most outlandish of outfits. He didn’t look like a woman, or even a man trying to look like a woman, he just looked like Eloim and it worked. He was always recognised in the human clubs and many of the human females would try to catch his eye, but when clubbing Eloim would always stick to the rules. It wasn’t that he agreed with the rules; it was the fact that if he broke them and got caught his clubbing days would be over, as not even his Mum would be able to move Dad on that punishment. So he would only return the attention of the females in the clubs owned and operated by his clan, where everyone inside had been carefully chosen and would willingly accept a vampire’s nibble and sip of their blood. While not the blood slaves that worked within their citadel, these humans were rich benefactors that willingly threw themselves at the vampires in a high society wife swap with a difference.
Looking at the clock on his wall Eloim saw that it was almost four in the afternoon and it would be almost dark up in the human world. Still far too early for the clubs to be opening so he had a good five hours to find something to occupy himself with. Living in a far northern city it got dark early in the winter months and while many of his family would still be asleep in their coffins, Eloim was restless. Quickly he chose a green kilt and a corseted top to match it, and putting on a pair of black leather boots with just a small two inch heel he picked up a bright green feather boa and headed out of his room. A couple of hours prowling would pass the time until it was late enough to get ready to go out. The fact that he was not allowed out on his own didn’t bother him. He wasn’t going looking for trouble today, he just wanted to look around. Moving so he wasn’t seen by the few slaves and vampires already up he headed down to the lower levels of the citadel and the passage that would lead him to the secret exit he had discovered.
Polly moved quickly across the flat rooftops, easily leaping across the gaps between buildings. She had an athletic build and had fallen into a long loping stride. She was of above average height but men always noticed her long well-toned legs that she loved to show off at every opportunity. She ignored the driving rain that fell in sheets, driven by the strong wind as she ran. Her long black hair had been tied into a ponytail to keep it out of her face as she ran. Her only real concession to the weather was a full length leather coat, but this was more to keep the various weapons secreted about her person dry than herself. She had just received a telephone call that a group of Slayers had been reported in the city and one of her brothers was unaccounted for. Out of all her brothers she hadn’t had to ask who it was that was missing; of course it had to be him. Of all the clan he had caused more trouble in his short existence than any other, a walking disaster with fangs. If there was trouble to be had then he would be found in the middle of it. Keeping the young vampires in line and safe had been difficult before but now he was around it was growing impossible.
Coming to the end of the row of buildings, she paused. On the street below a police patrol car was parked, the occupants happy to stay dry inside the car this night. With a giant leap she landed on the roof some twenty feet away on the opposite side of the street, the police none the wiser for her passing. As she moved along the new line of flat roofs she picked up the faint scent of blood and she knew that she had guessed right on where her missing brother would be. Coming to the end of the buildings she knelt down and peered into the alley below. Her missing brother stood in the centre of the alley in one of his usual ridiculous outfits. For some reason he refused to just blend in. He always seemed to dress to be noticed; far too many sequins and thigh high leather high heels. For a vampire this was not a normal trait, as when you were hunting you didn’t want your prey to see you coming. Before her brother a body was sprawled on the floor, obviously dead and the source of the scent of blood. Ten other figures stood in a semi-circle before him all ready to spring forward and attack the lone vampire. They were armed with wooden stakes, crucifixes and other tools that slayers used to hunt down her kind. Standing up she shook her head. Trust him to find the slayers and then stand and face them rather than running. With a deep sigh she stepped forward and walked off the edge of the roof.
She landed next to her brother, her coat flaring out dramatically as she dropped instantly into a crouch. She had drawn a razor sharp samurai sword as she dropped, which she now pointed with violent intent at the shocked slayers.
“Eloim, were you made stupid or do you work at it?” she demanded as she slowly stood glaring at the slayers who now looked uncertainly around at the roof tops, unsure if more vampires were about to arrive. “You know the rules. You’re not old enough to be out in this part of town without an Elder to watch over you.”
“Polly, why do you always have to do this to me? You're treating me like a child, and in front of slayers, too,” Eloim responded with embarrassed anger. He took a deliberate step away from his sister.
Polly lowered the sword as she turned in fury to her brother. “You are a child!” she hissed, “and one that always finds trouble.” She indicated the slayers with her sword, making them step back.
“I'm telling Mum you called me stupid,” Eloim snapped, angry at his sister’s interference and comments in front of the slayers.
“I’m so scared,” she said mockingly. “You know you shouldn't be out on your own. There's all kinds of dangers out here.” Polly fought to control her anger as she looked at the slayers, who started to mill around looking embarrassed at witnessing the vampire siblings argue. “And what are you wearing around your neck?” Polly continued, picking up the end of the soaking item between her thumb and finger, a look of disgust on her face.
“It’s a feather boa,” answered Eloim defensively.
“Feathers in this weather? You realise wet feathers stink worse than a half-drowned werewolf.” Polly took a step back from her brother. “Father must have dropped you on your head, it’s the only explanation.” She turned her back on her brother and walked towards one of the walls of the alley where a slayer stood. Polly shook her head in disbelief at her brother’s stupidity.
“Do you see what I have to put up with?” she asked him. “Can you imagine I’ve now got an eternity stuck looking after that fool? For two centuries I’ve lived, and it’s been great, but in the last two months I’ve had to keep an eye on him. I’ve got grey hairs coming. I’m not old enough to be going grey.”
The slayers looked at each other lost for words, knowing that this wasn't how things were supposed to happen when you cornered vampires.
They were all experienced slayers, trained in their calling, their leader indicated with a slight hand gesture that they should wait. Never had he heard of vampires acting so, well human was all he could come up with. Knowing how vampires would react was vital if a slayer was to survive a hunt so what was now happening before them could become valuable information.
“Eternity stuck with me? What about being stuck with you?” Eloim responded in outrage “She’s always parading about with skirts that show her arse off.” Eloim took a step towards the other end of the slayer line. “She keeps a giant snake in her coffin, too, and she is always slobbing about on the sofa drinking beer.” He stared at the end slayer awaiting an answer from him. The slayer looked at his companion for help. When all averted their eyes, he knew he was on his own. He gave Eloim a desperate look as he searched for a response.
“Erm, what type of beer?” He looked back to his companions to see what they thought of his question, after all he had never spoken to a vampire before. He hoped he had given a good enough response to the vampire to avoid looking stupid in front of the others. When he looked back to Eloim he saw the vampire had drawn a long silver dagger. Before he could react, Eloim swung the blade, almost severing his head. At the same time Polly also acted. Swinging her sword, she had decapitated three of the slayers before the others even realised. Eloim threw his dagger, taking a second through the heart before pouncing on a third, ripping out his throat. Drinking his fill, Eloim dropped the corpse to see Polly had killed all but one of the other slayers and he was backed up against the wall. Before Eloim could speak Polly stepped forward and the slayer became her evening dinner. Quickly drinking her fill, Polly turned back to Eloim, wiping her hand across her mouth.
“Tonight’s lesson, child, is never start to feed until all your enemies are dead. You left yourself open to attack.” She indicated one of the fallen slayers next to Eloim who had a dagger sticking out of his back. “He had a stake aimed for your back and you didn’t even know. Now look at all this mess, Eloim. The only good thing is it's raining to wash away all the wasted blood.”
Eloim looked around before bending over and picking up a severed head. Turning it so the face was towards Polly, he pushed his hand up through the bottom of the neck and made the mouth open and close in a mockery of speech. “Well you made most of the mess, again.” He grinned at his attempted ventriloquist joke.
“Shut up, that isn't funny in the slightest. We need to get this cleaned up before someone sees it. You do know there’s a police car just round the corner? I swear one day I'm either gonna kill you or leave you to get out of these scrapes yourself.”
Eloim looked down at his feet, his shoulders sagging, then turned his back on his sister.
“Are you crying?” she asked, suddenly regretting her harsh words.
“No,” he replied sullenly, a smile on his hidden face, knowing he had won again and Polly would cover for him with Mum and Dad.
“Eloim, let me phone Amanda up and get some help over here. I was just worried about you, that’s all.”
Eloim kept his back to his sister still. “Making the slayer's head talk wasn't funny?” he asked sullenly.
Polly looked up to the sky, shaking her head. “It was in poor taste, Eloim. You need to stop playing with your food. How can I teach you if you don't do as you're told? Slayers are dangerous, and although you show talent, they are beyond your ability to beat.”
Eloim spun around, grinning. “If I clean up and make this look like another Triad hit, can we go and meet the others at the club? And I promise to do as you say from now on.”
“I'm not going anywhere public, with you wearing that stupid boa. Lose it and it’s a maybe, but you're buying the drinks,” Polly responded. “And you clean my room for a week.”
“But Polly,” Eloim started to whine.
“You wouldn't want me to mention to Mum how you went looking for slayers, would you? Now let’s get these bodies sorted out so it looks like a gangland execution.”
Eloim removed the drenched feather boa. “We’ll have to nip home before we go to the club though. I need to change, this outfit is ruined,” he said, looking down at the wet corset and green tartan kilt he wore. “And these boots are not right for clubbing, the heels aren’t high enough. You want to borrow one of my skirts, Polly?”
“No, and no you can’t, before you ask,” she responded, as she began to move the dead bodies towards the wall. “But please let me borrow your make-up? I ran out of foundation and lipstick again,” Eloim asked hopefully.
“No, buy your own, and keep your hands off my hair straighteners too.”
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