She was on stage, wearing a dress so short it showed her thong every time she spun around. She started off the number by shaking her hips to the drumbeat. Beyoncé's Naughty Girl played from the speakers, and the dancer was joined by several other scantily clad ladies. My friends who had dragged me here were dancing to the music, already intoxicated. I tended to get violent when I drank, so I had a glass of water in my hand and was sitting at our table, watching the girls. The main dancer, the only one dressed in gold, began peeling off the clothes of the other dancers, like some sort of onion. Or garlic. Bad analogy. The boys in the club (because I don't believe real men go to vampire strips club) whistled and clapped. The naked dancers perform some sort of erotic dance, touching themselves and performing moves that made my back hurt. Eventually they left the stage, leaving only the gold dancer.
She was soon joined by a man, a bloodsucker. He was covered in thick muscles that showed through his tight shirt. He stood behind the dancer and began grinding against her, swaying to the of the exotic tune. The music came to a stop, and the people dancing hurriedly returned to their seat, excited to see the real entertainment. The man moved the dancer's thick curly brown hair out of the way, exposing scars that ran along her shoulder and collarbone. There were many bite marks, too many for any decent human being.
Great, a vampire junkie. Like America doesn't have enough drug problems already, now we've got to add vampire bites to the list.
The vampire ran his hands down the woman's dress, and in one jerky motion ripped the entire dress off of her, leaving her in only matching purple lace panties and bra, with thigh high stockings and a garter belt. The woman moaned as he ran his hands (probably cold) up and down her ribcage and waist.
Just like watching a porno, yummy.
He slowly ran his tongue along her shoulder, and began licking at her neck. The dancer's head fell back and she shivered, grinding her body into the blood fiend behind her. Someone dropped a pin. We all heard it. He opened his mouth wide enough to flash us all his fangs. Amateurs gasped. I felt sick. My two friends beside me were enraptured in the show, mesmerized. I watched them, Anna and Emma, as they stared wide-eyed like a kid at a candy store, occasionally licking their lips. The dancer gasped, and my attention was brought back to the stage, the vampire had pressed just the point of his fangs into her neck, not enough to break the skin. With a lightening-quick movement, he shoved them in gum-deep.
I placed my head between my legs and waited for the crowd to quiet down again. I vividly remembered the taste of the tuna-salad sandwich I had for lunch. Ugh.
I spent my life helping victims of blood fiends, as was their official name, and have even killed a few of them myself. I could understand why some people might be drawn into the cult, but could not for the life of me understand why respectable people that I considered friends would want to see this. Yeah, some people smoke marijuana, but not everyone is into that fad, right?
When it had first started, I had said: c'mon Carmen, it'll blow over. I thought it would, but ten years after the coming out of supernatural beings, and here we are: still obsessed.
I had nothing against the supernatural, but fiends: demons, vampires, blood fiends, incubi, they really got to me. Fiends were creatures that had to survive off the life-force of another creature to survive. Surely that was not ethical. I was a religious person, and I could not fathom that God would approve of sucking on someone's veins to live. Or stay 'alive'.
Vampires and blood fiends were not the same thing, but blood fiend was just too long, so everybody called them vampire. Anyways, true vampires were all but extinct, so we didn't need to differentiate.
The dancer was finally dragged off-stage, and her backup dancers, who had miraculously found their clothes, reappeared. Another vampire came onstage, this one a woman. She dropped and did one-handed push-ups, followed by several acrobatics. More back pain for my imagination. Another she-vampire came on stage, and they began to dance together, displaying strength, flexibility, and neon pink thongs.
A human man was dragged on stage, shirtless, revealing hundreds of scars and bite-marks about his entire body. Another junkie, this one more hard core. I felt the nauseous headache come on again, and almost screamed out when my phone buzzed. I looked at the screen: it was a text from my boss, telling me to come into work immediately. I showed the screen to my friends, and they gave me apologetic looks. Too bad you can't stay and watch someone getting stabbed in the neck.
I tried to shuffle as quietly as I could out of the club, but couldn't ignore the glares being sent in my direction. I'm sorry, am I ruining the show for you?
When I left, well, I was glad to be gone. I hurried and got into my Lexus, searching through the glove compartment until I found a gun and pressed it to my chest. God, I hated vamps. I reasoned that I had simply seen what they could do, while others hadn't, so that was why I was so weary of them, but maybe I was just paranoid. Side effect of killing vamps for a living.
My job description was not 'kill blood fiends'. My contract was actually to aid in the 'rectifying of dangerous supernatural situations'. Quote unquote. Since I was technically working for the supernatural government, or 'supernatural society' as they called it, I was free from a variety of human laws. Like carrying around a gun. I didn't have the full privileges of someone who was fully supernatural, as opposed to my unidentified mind abilities. To be specific, the ability I had was called 'intuition', and it allowed me to know the characteristics of something instinctively. This was especially convenient when I was face to face with someone on my killing list, since I could almost immediately know their weaknesses and how to kill them.
I drove my Lexus to the 'institution', the supernatural hospital and police center. Combined into one.
My boss was an angel. As in, that was his species, not that he knew God or anything.
I greeted the secretary with a warm (fake) smile, and she only looked at me warily. Right, still holding the gun… I walked into my boss's office and he told me to sit. I thought about snapping at him not to tell me what to do. Better not.
"You seem to be in an especially bad mood today, Carmen," He noted.
Yeah, what about it?
"You have such a rare talent, but your attitude sucks. I don't want another fucking complaint about how you threatened to… I don't know cut someone's nose off, or something!"
I hadn't thought about it, but good idea.
"Alright, so we've got two dead bodies. Fresh,"
"What's that got to do with me?" I asked. Maybe a little too aggressive.
"Don't get smart with me, Carmen. It's blood fiends,"
"How do they know, humans can easily make some sort of fake bite marks," I said. Really I just wanted to go home. Unless it was killing vampires, I would let the professionals handle it.
"The blood fiends aren't the perpetrators, Carmen. They're the victims,"