The Vampire Sands and the Blood Brotherhood
A continuing story by KazrenElf and Roosterroo
What if Agent Sheldon Jeffrey Sands was a vampire?
Sands and Victoria Night 2 part 2
Victoria: I smile, "Yes." I say quietly. He doesn't know what to say to me.
Sands: "There was a time when I was obsessed with opera," I admit to her, casting her a quick smile. "Or perhaps with one of the stars. It was a long time ago." I walk conscious of the distance between us, just in case she turns out to be an enemy.
Victoria: I look at him carefully, he's hiding. "Oh,. . .which is your favorite?" I keep scanning him for clues to his affiliation.
Sands: "It's changed over the years. Right now, probably 'The Marriage of Figuero,' but I like ballet. Coppelia and Swan Lake. Shit. Why are we talking about this stuff?"
Victoria: "Because neither one of us will come out and say which clan we belong to, and both of us are arrogant. We want the other to make the first move. Pride you know ." I gaze at him through the corner of my eyes. I'm bold, this should knock him off his guard.
Sands: "Abberline," I said softly. "I'm Clan Abberline."
Victoria: "Very good then," I say formally. "We can stop wondering if we're enemies." I stop walking and turn to face him. "I too am Abberline." I extend my hand in a greeting. "My name is Victoria, ... Victoria Dupree."
Sands: She offers me her hand. That's different. I hesitate a moment, watching her deep green eyes, then remove my hand from my pocket, from the comfort of my gun, and shake hers. "Sands. Everyone just calls me Sands." I watch her face to see if my reputation has proceeded me.
Victoria: "Sands. That's a strange name."
Sands: "What's strange about it? It's English."
Victoria: "Well most persons are given a proper name at birth. I assume this is your last name then?" I arch an eye brow.
Sands: Okay, so she's a little old-fashioned. "Yeah."
Victoria: He lacks manners. I turn and resume our walk. "What were you doing around Carriage Hall last night? Hunting?" I smile pleasantly.
Sands: So maybe she's not so out of the loop. "I like hunting. What do you do for fun? Besides the opera." I can't help but smile. I imagine she catches all sorts of meals in the opera.
Victoria: "I hunt. Just in a very different way." I cock my head to the side in a gentle way. "I like the taste of the rich. They are so sure that they are untouchable, that money and wealth provide them a certain amount of protection."
Sands: I remember when life was like that for me. I watch her through the curtain of my hair. She moves like a cat, a cheetah. Lethal. Graceful. "What makes you want to touch the untouchable? The challenge?"
I wonder if she was treated badly by some aristocrat. Her name is French.
Victoria: I stop and again and search his face. Silence spreads out between us. "I was raised to think I was untouchable. It was that hubris that brought me to this and brought about the destruction of my family. Anyone who thinks they are invincible is a fool." That was harsh. I smile and lighten the expression on my face.
He knows what I mean. He understands, he was part of that life once. His body is firm, he moves like a hunter, always watchful, alert. It's invigorating.
Sands: "No, even we are not invincible," I tell her. "Where does your accent come from? I don't quite recognize it." And her name is French but is she? I am still left wondering.
Victoria: I smile. "My people made their fortunes here in the Americas, around the delta, New Orleans. My mother was English."
Sands: I open my mouth in a silent 'Ah.'
"I have not lived there. I did travel there before the war. It was an interesting place then, before the war. The Civil War." I watch her to see if she remembers or if she's too young.
Victoria: "Yes, it was beautiful then. The area has never recovered, the grandeur is gone. Even the language has changed. Today it is all so common, so coarse."
Sands: I like this one more all the time. "There can be a beauty in coarseness. Just like in death. In agony. It's all about your point of view, isn't it? Did you ever read Ginsberg? He was an American poet."
Victoria: "No I don't believe I know his work." He's well read. Good.
Sands: I have something I love to talk about. "He and a group he was with were groundbreakers here in the mid-twentieth century. You never read 'On The Road?' It was written by one of his friends, Kerouac. It sort of started the whole hippie thing. The Love Generation was born of it.
Years later, in the eighties, I met Ginsberg. I was at a reading of poetry. He tried to pick me up. I let him, once I realized who he was. We talked until almost dawn. He had a great and inquisitive mind."
I haven't talked about myself like this in a very long time. I watch her to see if she's bored with me already.
Victoria: I smile. There is more to him than what he seems. More than just a black leather coat.
"I apologize, I missed the hippie movement. During that time I was much more introverted. Warhol left me cold." I smile more broadly at the humor of what I have just said. But perhaps he will not think it is funny. Perhaps he will think I am too old fashioned.
Sands: "Well, I think I've mislead you," I tell her. "He helped to inspire the Hippies. I think it's so interesting. I thought most people knew Allan Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac, William S. Burroughs. What about Neal Cassady?"
She shakes her head.
"You don't like American authors, huh? They were the Beat Generation incarnate. They put the hip in hippie." I have to smile. "Allan was a sweet man, full of piss and vinegar and longing. I never hurt him. I drank his intelligence, his views, his philosophy."
I sound like a prick even to myself now.
"What drives your boat?"
Victoria: I like him. I like the way he speaks. "What drives my boat? " I think about his question and then smile in a sly manner.
"Joseph Campbell, he was interesting. The Dali Lama, the colors of Monet, the motion of J. J. Pollick, the imagery of Eudora Welty." I would blush now if I could.
Sands: "I'm glad we're in the same clan," I admit. I would hate to have to kill her. It's not often these days that I can find someone who even understands me. Too many punks have been turned to become armies for rival clans. She remembers pre-Civil War. Hell, I remember pre-English Civil War. The thought makes me smile. I seem to be doing a lot of that tonight.
Victoria: "Oh, and I like to dance. The cotillions. The swirling colors of the waltz, the excitement that could come from spinning across the floor."
I look ahead we are almost to central park. We've come a long way.
"Yes, I am please we have so much in common. Shall we go through the park?" Perhaps we will come across two lovers embracing on a park bench. I'm beginning to work up an appetite."
Sands: That sounds interesting. A loving couple for us to share. I wonder if she knows what age does to appetite. "Lead on, my lady." I gesture with a bow. "I remember the waltzes best. Have you ever waltzed with a vampire? We can move much faster. Everything beyond your partner is a blur."
I can't help but remember. "Look." I have spotted a couple strolling hand in hand. They are entering a darker area. "Shall we?"
Victoria: I don't answer him. I remember dancing with a vampire. It took a long time for me to release myself from my sire. Those are not pleasant memories.
My eyes search the darkness as Sands points out the young couple. "Yes, let's." I reply. "Although I could be more appropriately dressed for the occasion." He leads the way and I follow the motions eagerly.
Victoria: The two of turn into Central Park. There generally aren't that many people in the park after dark. Too dangerous you know. And we certainly look out of place traveling together, sort of like putting Prada with J.C. Penny's. Even I smile at the complexity of the game we are playing. I wouldn't be surprised if someone attempted to mug Sands and I. That would be interesting.
I rake him with a glance. He's hiding something, I'm sure of it. There is a young couple up ahead on the path. They are heading into the shadows, their hands are all over each other. They probably aren't even supposed to be out together. Listening to their conversation, I hear a Cuban accent from the girl. Sands nods to me and slips away. He'll put himself in front of them to create a distraction. This too should be interesting. I wished I hadn't worn this fur tonight. I'll have to be careful. It's very difficult to get blood out of fur. But I suppose if I do, I'll just tell the cleaners how I was accosted by those wretched animal rights activists, and then bat my eye lashes over the tops of my tortoise shell sunglasses.
Sands: I reach into my left pocket and pull out the map that is one of my more frequent props. It is embarrassingly easy to slip around and come at the couple from in front. Using a German accent, I approach the couple, my map in hand.
"Excuse me, please," I say in my German-tourist accent. "I need help."
The woman is young, maybe sixteen, Hispanic. She reminds me of Ajedrez. Her too bad. Thoughts of letting her live evaporate.
The young man is some sort of mix of races, he has a nice dark skin with almost Caucasian features and curling black hair. I'm sure Victoria will enjoy him.
I approach them. They pause in their pawing at one another in order to listen to me. I shrug and cast her what appears to be a casual shy smile. Our eyes meet. The trap has closed. She just doesn't know it yet.
"What are you lookin' for?" the man asks.
I continue to meet the girl's gaze, letting my will seep into her. "Maybe you can tell me where I am on this map," I say softly. The stupid fuck doesn't know he's dead.
She lets go of his hand and walks towards me.
"Rosa?" he calls.
But Rosa doesn't really hear him. She reaches me and stares at me, hypnotized easily.
I hear Victoria's voice. She's addressing the male. Good. I can have my little snack.
Wetting my lips in anticipation, I hold out a hand to the girl. She takes it and we move into the darker shadows of the bushes. I don't want to be interrupted by some patrol.
I bring her hand to my lips and turn it palm up. My lips brush her palm, her wrist. I can feel her pulse. I can smell her excitement. This is the sort of thing I enjoy most, the seduction. She's sighing now. The map gets stuffed back into my pocket. I want to use both hands to feel her now.
My mouth moves up the curve of her arm, kissing, licking. She is stares at me. I look up at her as I come to her shoulder. I can just about read her mind. She wants to fuck.
I can hear sounds of Victoria and the man and they make me only more excited. My appetites are peeked. If this human didn't look so much like a woman I hate so intently, I might have sex with her first, but the thought of Ajedrez are a total turn-off.
I want to rip into her, but it's more fun to play first, to get her stirred up. It sends a enticing flavor into her blood.
My mouth moves to her ear. I trace the line of her jaw with one finger. Everything is gentle. I cup her full breast as my mouth moves to her throat. She's moaning now, her hand reaching to touch me. She's pulling up my sweater to get at the waistband of my pants.
I pull back for a moment to look at her. She's focused on my crotch. Now. I lean in, press my hardness against her eager hands, then sink my teeth into her neck. She stiffens and gasps in pleasure. Sure baby, you'll die from pleasure.
As her blood floods into my mouth, her hands clutch at my hardness and her hips move almost as if we're making love. Not love. Death. I can taste her eagerness. She still doesn't get it. She's fucking dead and she doesn't get it. But I know.
I drink more than I really need, because her face condemns her to death tonight. Her hands stop trying to claw through the fabric of my pants and fall limply to her sides. She begins to sink to the ground and I hold her with one arm as she goes still. Her heart still beats and I follow that beating down. Down.
Victoria and the man are still at it. The girl is finished. I let her drop to the ground then stand and run a tongue over my lips to make sure there's nothing messy. I want to see Victoria and the man now. I can enjoy watching as much as the next pervert. To Be Continued
Sands and Victoria Night 2 part 2
Victoria: I smile, "Yes." I say quietly. He doesn't know what to say to me.
Sands: "There was a time when I was obsessed with opera," I admit to her, casting her a quick smile. "Or perhaps with one of the stars. It was a long time ago." I walk conscious of the distance between us, just in case she turns out to be an enemy.
Victoria: I look at him carefully, he's hiding. "Oh,. . .which is your favorite?" I keep scanning him for clues to his affiliation.
Sands: "It's changed over the years. Right now, probably 'The Marriage of Figuero,' but I like ballet. Coppelia and Swan Lake. Shit. Why are we talking about this stuff?"
Victoria: "Because neither one of us will come out and say which clan we belong to, and both of us are arrogant. We want the other to make the first move. Pride you know ." I gaze at him through the corner of my eyes. I'm bold, this should knock him off his guard.
Sands: "Abberline," I said softly. "I'm Clan Abberline."
Victoria: "Very good then," I say formally. "We can stop wondering if we're enemies." I stop walking and turn to face him. "I too am Abberline." I extend my hand in a greeting. "My name is Victoria, ... Victoria Dupree."
Sands: She offers me her hand. That's different. I hesitate a moment, watching her deep green eyes, then remove my hand from my pocket, from the comfort of my gun, and shake hers. "Sands. Everyone just calls me Sands." I watch her face to see if my reputation has proceeded me.
Victoria: "Sands. That's a strange name."
Sands: "What's strange about it? It's English."
Victoria: "Well most persons are given a proper name at birth. I assume this is your last name then?" I arch an eye brow.
Sands: Okay, so she's a little old-fashioned. "Yeah."
Victoria: He lacks manners. I turn and resume our walk. "What were you doing around Carriage Hall last night? Hunting?" I smile pleasantly.
Sands: So maybe she's not so out of the loop. "I like hunting. What do you do for fun? Besides the opera." I can't help but smile. I imagine she catches all sorts of meals in the opera.
Victoria: "I hunt. Just in a very different way." I cock my head to the side in a gentle way. "I like the taste of the rich. They are so sure that they are untouchable, that money and wealth provide them a certain amount of protection."
Sands: I remember when life was like that for me. I watch her through the curtain of my hair. She moves like a cat, a cheetah. Lethal. Graceful. "What makes you want to touch the untouchable? The challenge?"
I wonder if she was treated badly by some aristocrat. Her name is French.
Victoria: I stop and again and search his face. Silence spreads out between us. "I was raised to think I was untouchable. It was that hubris that brought me to this and brought about the destruction of my family. Anyone who thinks they are invincible is a fool." That was harsh. I smile and lighten the expression on my face.
He knows what I mean. He understands, he was part of that life once. His body is firm, he moves like a hunter, always watchful, alert. It's invigorating.
Sands: "No, even we are not invincible," I tell her. "Where does your accent come from? I don't quite recognize it." And her name is French but is she? I am still left wondering.
Victoria: I smile. "My people made their fortunes here in the Americas, around the delta, New Orleans. My mother was English."
Sands: I open my mouth in a silent 'Ah.'
"I have not lived there. I did travel there before the war. It was an interesting place then, before the war. The Civil War." I watch her to see if she remembers or if she's too young.
Victoria: "Yes, it was beautiful then. The area has never recovered, the grandeur is gone. Even the language has changed. Today it is all so common, so coarse."
Sands: I like this one more all the time. "There can be a beauty in coarseness. Just like in death. In agony. It's all about your point of view, isn't it? Did you ever read Ginsberg? He was an American poet."
Victoria: "No I don't believe I know his work." He's well read. Good.
Sands: I have something I love to talk about. "He and a group he was with were groundbreakers here in the mid-twentieth century. You never read 'On The Road?' It was written by one of his friends, Kerouac. It sort of started the whole hippie thing. The Love Generation was born of it.
Years later, in the eighties, I met Ginsberg. I was at a reading of poetry. He tried to pick me up. I let him, once I realized who he was. We talked until almost dawn. He had a great and inquisitive mind."
I haven't talked about myself like this in a very long time. I watch her to see if she's bored with me already.
Victoria: I smile. There is more to him than what he seems. More than just a black leather coat.
"I apologize, I missed the hippie movement. During that time I was much more introverted. Warhol left me cold." I smile more broadly at the humor of what I have just said. But perhaps he will not think it is funny. Perhaps he will think I am too old fashioned.
Sands: "Well, I think I've mislead you," I tell her. "He helped to inspire the Hippies. I think it's so interesting. I thought most people knew Allan Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac, William S. Burroughs. What about Neal Cassady?"
She shakes her head.
"You don't like American authors, huh? They were the Beat Generation incarnate. They put the hip in hippie." I have to smile. "Allan was a sweet man, full of piss and vinegar and longing. I never hurt him. I drank his intelligence, his views, his philosophy."
I sound like a prick even to myself now.
"What drives your boat?"
Victoria: I like him. I like the way he speaks. "What drives my boat? " I think about his question and then smile in a sly manner.
"Joseph Campbell, he was interesting. The Dali Lama, the colors of Monet, the motion of J. J. Pollick, the imagery of Eudora Welty." I would blush now if I could.
Sands: "I'm glad we're in the same clan," I admit. I would hate to have to kill her. It's not often these days that I can find someone who even understands me. Too many punks have been turned to become armies for rival clans. She remembers pre-Civil War. Hell, I remember pre-English Civil War. The thought makes me smile. I seem to be doing a lot of that tonight.
Victoria: "Oh, and I like to dance. The cotillions. The swirling colors of the waltz, the excitement that could come from spinning across the floor."
I look ahead we are almost to central park. We've come a long way.
"Yes, I am please we have so much in common. Shall we go through the park?" Perhaps we will come across two lovers embracing on a park bench. I'm beginning to work up an appetite."
Sands: That sounds interesting. A loving couple for us to share. I wonder if she knows what age does to appetite. "Lead on, my lady." I gesture with a bow. "I remember the waltzes best. Have you ever waltzed with a vampire? We can move much faster. Everything beyond your partner is a blur."
I can't help but remember. "Look." I have spotted a couple strolling hand in hand. They are entering a darker area. "Shall we?"
Victoria: I don't answer him. I remember dancing with a vampire. It took a long time for me to release myself from my sire. Those are not pleasant memories.
My eyes search the darkness as Sands points out the young couple. "Yes, let's." I reply. "Although I could be more appropriately dressed for the occasion." He leads the way and I follow the motions eagerly.
Victoria: The two of turn into Central Park. There generally aren't that many people in the park after dark. Too dangerous you know. And we certainly look out of place traveling together, sort of like putting Prada with J.C. Penny's. Even I smile at the complexity of the game we are playing. I wouldn't be surprised if someone attempted to mug Sands and I. That would be interesting.
I rake him with a glance. He's hiding something, I'm sure of it. There is a young couple up ahead on the path. They are heading into the shadows, their hands are all over each other. They probably aren't even supposed to be out together. Listening to their conversation, I hear a Cuban accent from the girl. Sands nods to me and slips away. He'll put himself in front of them to create a distraction. This too should be interesting. I wished I hadn't worn this fur tonight. I'll have to be careful. It's very difficult to get blood out of fur. But I suppose if I do, I'll just tell the cleaners how I was accosted by those wretched animal rights activists, and then bat my eye lashes over the tops of my tortoise shell sunglasses.
Sands: I reach into my left pocket and pull out the map that is one of my more frequent props. It is embarrassingly easy to slip around and come at the couple from in front. Using a German accent, I approach the couple, my map in hand.
"Excuse me, please," I say in my German-tourist accent. "I need help."
The woman is young, maybe sixteen, Hispanic. She reminds me of Ajedrez. Her too bad. Thoughts of letting her live evaporate.
The young man is some sort of mix of races, he has a nice dark skin with almost Caucasian features and curling black hair. I'm sure Victoria will enjoy him.
I approach them. They pause in their pawing at one another in order to listen to me. I shrug and cast her what appears to be a casual shy smile. Our eyes meet. The trap has closed. She just doesn't know it yet.
"What are you lookin' for?" the man asks.
I continue to meet the girl's gaze, letting my will seep into her. "Maybe you can tell me where I am on this map," I say softly. The stupid fuck doesn't know he's dead.
She lets go of his hand and walks towards me.
"Rosa?" he calls.
But Rosa doesn't really hear him. She reaches me and stares at me, hypnotized easily.
I hear Victoria's voice. She's addressing the male. Good. I can have my little snack.
Wetting my lips in anticipation, I hold out a hand to the girl. She takes it and we move into the darker shadows of the bushes. I don't want to be interrupted by some patrol.
I bring her hand to my lips and turn it palm up. My lips brush her palm, her wrist. I can feel her pulse. I can smell her excitement. This is the sort of thing I enjoy most, the seduction. She's sighing now. The map gets stuffed back into my pocket. I want to use both hands to feel her now.
My mouth moves up the curve of her arm, kissing, licking. She is stares at me. I look up at her as I come to her shoulder. I can just about read her mind. She wants to fuck.
I can hear sounds of Victoria and the man and they make me only more excited. My appetites are peeked. If this human didn't look so much like a woman I hate so intently, I might have sex with her first, but the thought of Ajedrez are a total turn-off.
I want to rip into her, but it's more fun to play first, to get her stirred up. It sends a enticing flavor into her blood.
My mouth moves to her ear. I trace the line of her jaw with one finger. Everything is gentle. I cup her full breast as my mouth moves to her throat. She's moaning now, her hand reaching to touch me. She's pulling up my sweater to get at the waistband of my pants.
I pull back for a moment to look at her. She's focused on my crotch. Now. I lean in, press my hardness against her eager hands, then sink my teeth into her neck. She stiffens and gasps in pleasure. Sure baby, you'll die from pleasure.
As her blood floods into my mouth, her hands clutch at my hardness and her hips move almost as if we're making love. Not love. Death. I can taste her eagerness. She still doesn't get it. She's fucking dead and she doesn't get it. But I know.
I drink more than I really need, because her face condemns her to death tonight. Her hands stop trying to claw through the fabric of my pants and fall limply to her sides. She begins to sink to the ground and I hold her with one arm as she goes still. Her heart still beats and I follow that beating down. Down.
Victoria and the man are still at it. The girl is finished. I let her drop to the ground then stand and run a tongue over my lips to make sure there's nothing messy. I want to see Victoria and the man now. I can enjoy watching as much as the next pervert. To Be Continued