Chapter Eleven: Daydreams
The blonde femme fatale sat quietly in her cell—manacles of bewitched silver bound her wrists and ankles. Her hair hung limp like a cat's yarn ball and so did the rest of her. Her eyes were dull and dark as the void with shadows that hung under her eyes. Lucia resembled a raccoon with a taste for blood than garbage. She was hugging her knees and rocked back and forth—wrinkling her nose at the scents of decaying rodents and other things that were far too decomposed to identify.
A little slot on the metal door slid open and the spot of light momentarily blinded the female. She coiled away from it and spit a hiss at the emerald eyes that peered in.
"Such a shame—you were a fine human—to be turned into that," the cold, velvety spoke with mock regret. Her eyes met his and a sigh came out of nowhere.
"Hungry?" he asked, his eyes gleaming. She hissed again and heaved at the chains that bound her.
"I was being sincere, Lucia," Darian continued. The metal door swung open with a creak and a flame-haired man in street clothes walked in. In his right hand, he held a syringe and a small bottle of clear liquid and in his right, a plastic pouch of blood—probably from the hospital blood bank.
Lucia stuck out her chin and glowered at the man with defiance. His emerald eyes softened and he dangled the blood bag in front of her face. Hunger proved to be the stronger beast. White hands flashed and grabbed the plastic pouch. She tore through the material with her razor teeth and guzzled the delicious crimson nectar down. It filled her, warmed her insides and left a sense of completion for the moment.
Darian watched with indifference, he wiped the trickle of blood from the vampiress's lips with his thumb. He unscrewed the little vial and inserted the syringe through the latex covering. He slowed filled the syringe with the clear liquid and pulled the needle out. He grasped Lucia's arm and injected her with a heavy dose of the vaccine. The female was still in a daze from the blood ecstasy and could not fill the needle puncture a nanometer into her skin. Then snap! The needle broke before the serum could get into her dried veins.
"What?" he exclaimed, growling at the broken needle. He painfully squeezed Lucia's jaw, snapped the syringe in half and poured the clear liquid down her throat. She gagged at the tingly aftertaste and tried to spit out as much of the crap as possible. The liquid slid down her throat like mucus and tickled the gag reflex.
Her body convulsed and a shine of sweat gleamed on her face. She looked like a horror mannequin. Her breathing was staggered—not that vampires needed oxygen. The body needed oxygen for speech and it is uncomfortable without a sense of smell.
A warm, strong hand stroked the side of Lucia's face and soft lips murmured sleep. She brushed his hand away and retreated into a ball. Darian turned away and exited the door. The metal door swung shut and all light ceased. In the room, in her heart and in the world.
Darian strode down the brightly lit hallway—several personal in black nodded to him in greetings. There was a pair of metal doors at the end of the hallway. A pair of heavily-armed guards stood like statues on either side. Darian flashed his ID to the guards and wall allowed admission. Beyond the metal doors was another hallway—dimly lit— with a never-ending amount of doors. The metal ones closed behind him and a spark of light shuddered in the distance. He followed the light, his street clothes dissipated in a blink and was replaced a long black coat, turtleneck and pants with three red stripes running diagonally across the leg.
The ball of light hovered next to grand, wooden doors. They sung open and a room resembling an ancient court room waited. Darian stepped inside and five bodies bore their sights down on him.
"Daraniel Azuma, you are charged with fraud, illegal use of Council database, and other heinous crimes with mediocre reasons," said a nasal voice and it droned on and on and on. Heinous is defined as tedious—just a side note.
"Your Eminence," he politely interrupted. "I have a perfectly good excuse."
"I repeat, 'mediocre reasons'".
"Which is?" a baritone voice boomed. "A vampire and third-rate demoness."
"Your Eminence. The presence of those two upsets the balance of—" Darian began.
"There are hundreds of vampires in this world and you have enough stupidity to say that they are a threat to the big picture. That is implying that sharks are bad for ocean life," another voice resonated.
"But—"he tried to argue back.
"Sharks control fish population. Vampire control human population," the same voice concluded. Vampires were not doing a fine job, though.
"Your Eminence, I am not speaking of the generalization vampire. These two have attempted the forbidden black magic and it has backfired into a bi-soul complex with dual time—" Darian worded carefully.
Silence from the Council. I got them now, he sneered.
"You see. Gabriel and Rowan's time have long pass by several centuries. Those two have been long overdue and now the Angel of Death is trying to restore balance. How many innocents must die before they equal the lives of a vampire and demoness?"
Silence.
"You are proposing to eliminate Gabriel Mazelli and Rowan Triste then leaving Jack Bromnal and Lucia Fitzgard to take their place—therefore satisfying the conditions of Diabolus Pactum."
"Yes—"?
"We decline."
"What?"
"This is not worth the—it is exaggerated to ridiculous proportions."
Silence.
"Of course, you were summoned here for another reason. We have reviewed your current and past records and it is very disappointing. We have no choice but to revoke your surface world authority and bind your powers. You have proven to us that you have lost sight of what this duty is about…"
The Council's face faded and the floor opened up below Darian's feet. The man plunged deep into the darkness and a voice called after him," Take your prisoner, too."
Darian landed on the balls of his feet and looked around. It was Gabriel's penthouse. His face was then pressed firmly against the carpet and a moment later a body that weight like a ton of bricks fell unto his back and delivered spasms of agony and dust mites in the crevices of his teeth. Beams of sunlight shone in through the windows and lit up the living room. The ten-ton body rose to her feet and turned toward the sun. Darian groaned and managed to flop onto his side—his eyes widened.
Myth states that vampires burst into a ball of flame when in contact with sunlight. False. They are known cases of vampiric sensitivity to sunlight, nut not that serious to become a pile of ashes. No. Lucia was an angel—ish. Her ivory skin glittered like thousands of one karat diamond. An ethereal aura surrounded the vampiress and wrapped around her still form and serene smile. Pools of eyes gazed into the sun with content and a denture packed with a predator's teeth. Her hair cascaded down her scalp—the color of lemon curds. She was a Greek statue, gossamer and divine. It was a Kodak moment. Patricles discharged from her skin, they floated up the ceiling and disappeared. All that was missing was the fireflies and dusk, She turned her head towards Darian and sighed.
"I had forgotten what the sun was like. I was always afraid of what might happen when I walked into the morning. Would I cease to exist?" she murmured.
Darian was breathless . He merely gawked and perhaps dribbled some drool. Her laughter was so soft it was a child's giggle. Indeed, that was what Lucia was—a child, She slumped onto the floor and continued her expressions of awe to the other glorious sun.
"Lucia…forgive me," he uttered. Her serene face casted it glow onto him. He had to look away.
"Always," was her reply.
The radio spat out alternative rock and that kind of crap. The pounding of the guitar and drums cleared her mind very easily. She sat like a statue on the couch. Listening, always, listening. A yawn came from the hallway and Jack walked in with a pigeon's nest of hair, wearing absolutely nothing.
"Wait a minute," Rowan said. "I do not remember the sight of you taking off your pants anywhere in my memories."
"I like to boast," he smirked. "I can't help it if I'm gifted." He strolled up the hallway to find his scattered articles of clothing. The female shutted off the radio with a click and slithered into the kitchen. She wreaked havoc on it. The refrigerator was quite offended by the end of it Rowan whipped up a quick breakfast of defrosted waffles, sausage, and leftover hash. She split the remaining orange juice into two glasses and laid out forks, knives and napkin.
Jack reentered wearing a pair of brief. His hair was unjumble and no longer attracted birds and their feces. He smiled grandly and devoured everything on his plate.
"A vast improvement," she commented sarcastically.
Hmmm. The guzzling of concentrated citrus juice that claimed to be all natural.
"So…describe to me Gabriel," Jack said.
"He's an oxymoron. End of story," she turned her back to her breakfast.
"Awww…it sounds like you're mad at him or something," he reached over to devour Rowan's plate.
"You try solitary confinement for who knows how long—? She answered.
"You shouldn't be mad at him for that. I mean—I'm guessing that he was just trying to do what he thought was good for you," he argued.
"Look, I know that Gabriel always have good intentions but they backfire—" Rowan's voice dropped to a low, "horribly."
Jack slowly lowered his glass and croaked, "how?" The female glanced over her shoulder and sighed.
"I cannot tell you that," she replied.
"What? Why? I want to know!" he protested , stabbing the counter with his fork for emphasis.
"Ask Gabriel yourself," Rowan snapped. She scooped up the dished and dumped it into the sink.
"Rowan…I'm sorry," he apologized, hi tawny eyes casting their innocence at her.
"You haven't changed one bit," she grumbled, savagely scrubbing the dishes, glasses, and eating utensils under hot water.
"Have you outgrown me?" he croaked. Silence. The rushing stream of water pounded and clattered of metal forks. His face contorted with pain and he whimpered softly.
The air was thick with silence and rays of sunlight peeked in through the crack in the curtain. Jack stomped away from the counter and into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.
The auburn-haired woman shutted off the waterand dried off her hands with a towel.
"He's still a testorone-filled child," she muttered. In the depthsof her mind, gears and shifts clicked to formulate a plan. It pieced itself together bit by bit. I have watched for too long, she thought. Rowan strode into the living room, scooped his keys off of the sofa, slipped on her shoes and went out the door.
Jack laid on his back staring at the ceiling. His brow furrowed into a frown and his lips puckered into a pout. She has outgrown me, he concluded. They had spent most of their childhood together—well hers anyways. He groaned and rolled over onto his side, frustrated. What the hell do I haveto do? Grow a foot long beard and sideburns?
Vroom. Vroom. The male sat up quickly and flung himself to the window. There was Rowan in all her siren beauty on his motorcycle?
"Fuck no!" he exclaimed, wiggling into his clothes and shoes. He opened the window and launched down the fire escape. He quickly trudged down the metal steps only to see her take off.
"Hey wait?" he yelled after her and in response, she waved. Finally he got to the bottom and threw up his hands in fury. Crap. Crap. Crap. I haven't paid off the loan yet! He kicked a nearby trashcan and sent several well-fed rats scurrying. He surveyed the area around him and saw nothing, but garages. Wait a minute—garages? Cars? Grand-theft auto? Bingo! He lifted open the nearest garage door and to his luck was a black Jaguar. He ran up to the car in glee and imitated the sliding-across-the-car-hood-move seen in many movies. Of course, also seen in the movies was the sliding-across-the-car-hood-too-far-and-went-off-the-other-side. Jack crashed into a wall with a shelf stacked with tools. A rusted piece of pipe rolled off of the shelf and barely missed his crotch by an inch. So close to being a pet eunuch! He sighed in relief and got into the driver seat. Jack reached under the dashboard and fumbled with the wires until he could start the ignition. The car coughed. Perfect. He quickly placed the car in reverse and rammed into the same kicked trash can. He sighed and began to drive forward when he smacked into another trash can. He looked around to see that he was surrounded by trash cans!
"Crap! I forgot it was Garbage Day," he cursed, slamming his forehead against the car horn. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. He painstakingly maneuvered his way out of the metal and noxious maze. His Jaguar resembled a perfectly rectangular metal contraption on wheels with a trapezoid hump. Vroom!