I'm still busy doing my dissertation outline but here is a quick update, with a little cliffhangerness at the end: D
Thanks 2 SisiDraig, xXxBooshLoverxXx, chugirl 2526 and BeckyRocks X…
Also special thanks 2 BeckyRocks 4 all her advice on Vampires: D
My Victorian cockney is pretty bad considering I am studying 2 become a historian, my only excuse is it's not my period it's way 2 modern: D
I don't own this: )
The smell of magic is indescribable. Once you have encountered its intoxicating aroma it's something you never forget or quite get over; it's like first love.
It was that smell that first drew Ebola to Anthrax it cut through reality like a knife, slicing everything down the middle.
It had been along time a very long time since Ebola had last visited the circus there was nothing there for her she'd always loathed the common garish trickery of such places. They all tasted the same those kinds of people however hard she tried she could never get that taste out of her mouth it would linger for days after the initial kill; it was always quite upsetting. The smell didn't help either so many people, so many animals all blending together; sweat and dung. But she'd been drawn into that place by the overpowering scent of promise. She'd paid her money and taken her place on the benches becoming one of the faceless mass.
She'd felt out of touch; she'd started to feel more and more out of touch like she was losing her grip on the world as she'd sat there her mind completely consumed by memories of how it had been when she'd last visited Astley's circus. Everything was different noisy there was so much machinery, with a shudder Ebola had remembered her last encounter with one of her would be victims she hadn't been able to understand a word he'd been saying she'd abandoned the whole unsuccessful venture. She religiously read the paper every morning before she was interned but recently she'd failed to understand a single thing printed between the crisp white pages, who were these people? Ebola had been afraid. There is nothing more fatal to a Vampire than becoming a relic; it dulls the senses and means that you can only prey on the very dregs of society.
And then she had seen her Anthrax had appeared in the centre of the ring dressed as the Harlequin; something that had been popular when Ebola had been young but had since fallen out of favour like everything else. The smell of magic had clung to Anthrax like perfume clung to most mortals. Anthrax spoke but Ebola wasn't listening she just watched silently as Anthrax was wrapped in chains and locked in a box. Ebola had seen this sort of act before, but there was something about the way Anthrax had performed it which had captured her interest. The way she'd suddenly appeared in the crowd a moment later; it had surprised Ebola she hadn't seen how it was done. Anthrax's next trick had been submergence in water again; Ebola had failed to discover how she had escaped. And then lastly Anthrax had appeared once again in the audience next to her this time gripping her by the shoulder and then suddenly they'd been outside standing amongst the brightly coloured circus caravans in the chill of the cold night air. No one could move that fast no mortal; no Vampire only one race had the ability to time shift, Shamans.
And then back again she was fast if Ebola had been a mortal she would never have known anything about being teleported outside but Anthrax had made the mistake of picking the wrong person in the crowd that night. It had been warm under the spotlight of the ring.
'Miss Delia Plume!' The ring master had bellowed over the sound of the riotous applause, Anthrax had bowed greedily soaking up the praise before she'd marched out of the ring. Ebola had followed her.
Ebola had never encountered a Shaman she'd heard about such creatures in legend, she knew that if a Vampire fed on the blood of a Shaman it would endow them with the ability to walk among the mortals in the light of day. Night and day she could have fed; she could have seen the sun again she would never have been afraid of the terrible dawn.
It wasn't hard to gain entry into Anthrax's white tented dressing room all it had taken was a farthing to the wardrobe mistress. There had been a hand written sign on the flap 'Non de plume' Ebola had been mildly amused.
She'd watched her for a few moments making sure she was out of the reflection of the mirror watching as Anthrax stripped away the layers of her thick make-up. Generally Ebola never played anything so coy but this was a Shaman a being of incredible power she would not risk anger her.
She coughed to let Anthrax know she'd been there.
'Wotcha?' Had been Anthrax's greeting as she glanced over her shoulder; she'd still had her thick East London brogue then.
'Excuse me, but am I in the presence of Miss Delia Plume?' She'd grinned and nodded.
'That's what it says on my marker out there; don't it?' Anthrax had at that time been somewhat of a cliché.
'Indeed, non de plume very droll.' Ebola desperately wanted to dislike her; but there had been something about her that went deeper than magic she was intrigued by her. Anthrax had kicked out one of the battered chairs next to her nodding for Ebola to take a seat. Ebola sat down.
'Make it quick.' Anthrax had informed as she slipped off her hat and long wig revealing the short cropped hair that lay beneath. Ebola paused fighting the urges that threatened to overwhelm her as she saw the vein raise and pulse on Anthrax's neck. She coughed again shifting awkwardly.
'I, I…I'm afraid I, I,'
'You want me,' Anthrax cut her off as she leaned in close, so close that Ebola could feel her warm breath on her face.
'Don't do many private showings I only work for paper mind you, leave your particulars with the gaffer.' Ebola had struggled for words her mouth flapping open and closed no speech escaping her lips.
'I'm worth it mind you you'll get plenty of bang. 'Ere you ever 'erd of the bullet catch?' Dumbly Ebola shook her head, Anthrax had rolled her eyes.
'Course you ain't lady like yourself.' Her eyes roamed over her for a few seconds as she decided what type of woman Ebola was. There was only one type of woman who roamed around the streets alone. She arched her eyebrow as she slipped her hand into the pocket of the faded satin dressing gown she had been wearing pulling out a small heavy black revolver.
'Ere get up, don't fret.' Grabbing Ebola she manoeuvred her willing form across the room positioning her just so placing the gun in her hands. She'd never held a gun before it had felt heavy and dead in her cold grasp.
'Shoot me.' Anthrax had ordered Ebola hadn't obeyed the gun had simply gone off in her hand the bullet exploding from the chamber.
And then nothing, Anthrax had casually sat back down at her dressing mirror. Ebola had been frozen in place staring at the back of head.
'Dee.' It had casually slipped from her lips as if she'd always been Dee; her Dee. She'd been worried about her; she hadn't wanted to hurt her to harm her in anyway. That's when she'd known she'd been in trouble.
The wardrobe mistress had returned ordering Ebola out, just as she'd been turning to leave Anthrax had caught her by her arm spiting something out into her palm she slipped the small metallic object into Ebola's hand.
'This belongs to you Miss.' She grinned.
When she was back outside Ebola uncurled her fingers seeing the bullet that was laying there shining back up at her sparkling away in the gloom.
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'Fucking zombie wankers!' Anthrax complained her voice rough and ragged, her eyes dark eyes shining. Ebola smiles at her adding her weight to the door pressing herself against it, they stare at each other with no sound to interrupt them but the mixing of their own harsh breathing. They don't have to breath they just do it because that's what they've always done; neither of them have reached that stage where they've forgotten what it was like to be mortal. Ebola cracks first giggling Anthrax soon joins her.
'There's no style to them, they lack…' Ebola's words die in her throat as she glances up for the first time seeing the glass ceiling above them.
'Shitnuts!' Anthrax's frowns her gaze quickly following.
There trapped like a wasp in a jar. They can't go outside Vampire or no Vampire a zombie can still rip you to shreds they'll still try to have a good nibble on you. And they can't stay where they are no indefinitely because sooner; well soon the sun will start coming up and they'll end up getting roasted.
'How many of them do you think are out there?' Anthrax asks her voice suddenly very soft and low.
'Too many.' Ebola replies.
'Yeah but they won't I mean they can't hurt us can they? I mean we're already dead we've got no body heat they won't, they can't?' Anthrax clings onto the faintest traces of hope.
'There zombies they'll try to eat anything when they run out of the live stuff they'll start eating each other.' Ebola predicted grimly glancing around the dark empty space searching for something; anything. For the first time in centuries she feels like crying. It's cowardly she knows after how many lives she has taken she has no right to complain about her own; but still she can't help it an eternity of floating about of the whim of the wind fills her with horror.
'Do you think there all dead?' Anthrax questions despondently falling to her knees slumping against the heavy door.
'Who?' Ebola frowns as she springs into action searching.
'All the people?' Ebola thinks about this for a few moments and then shakes her head.
'No.' Ebola believes that humans the human condition is some kind of infection; it doesn't how many of them kill each other how many of them are kill they always find a way to survive.
'Maybe we should just forget about it, I mean if there all dead then…then what are we going to live on? We can't eat zombie; we can't drink dead blood it doesn't work inside us. I don't want to starve; I've seen people what've been starved to death and they,'
'Sssush, ssush.' Ebola returns to Anthrax crouching down in front of her clasping the sides of her face in her cold hands planting a kiss on her nose, trying her best to smile.
'Noone is going to starve. Dee, Dee were going to get out of here I promise. You're going to feel very silly that you made so much fuss.'