“That sounds really disgusting.” Alex made a face.
“Yeah, it is in a way.” Michelle nodded. “But it’s also worthwhile for a lot of reasons. For instance, we are talking about serious money here, both for the vampire and the human. If you have kids and a mortgage, an open bar night can almost wipe out your debt if you’re lucky.”
“You mean if you taste good?”
“Right. Also a good portion of the money goes to the Keep The Heart Beating Foundation. Dante is one of the founders. KTHB works to raise awareness for vamps and actually teach them how to let their victims live when they feed. It is not a common or well-known skill and sadly, very few care to even learn how. It also provides all kinds of support for humans who have been abused in any way, providing money, shelter, counselling and that sort of thing. So believe me it’s a worthy cause.”
“How much do you usually go for?” Alex teased.
“Michelle has never been put up for auction. We never stay for open bar,” Dante explained.
“Why is that?” Alex asked Michelle.
“There’s no point. There ain’t no way I’m letting another vamp feed on me like I told you. Not that Dante would ever do that to me anyway. But still, I would be like the juicy cheeseburger at the barbecue no one could have. I would be there, but no one could feed on me or bid for me. It could cause problems. Like he said, Dante and I usually leave shortly after open bar starts, but he has to be there for appearance’s sake.”
“Do you think Lauren will be there?” Alex asked.
“I doubt it, but she might try,” Dante replied.
“Wait, no one’s going to try to, you know—” Alex wiggled her finger towards her own throat.
Dante again shook his head slowly while eyeing her. “Not only are you not a donor, you and Margaret would be my guests. No one would dare touch you.”
“Well…” Alex started with a sigh of relief. “What do I wear?”
Chapter Twenty-One
You Are Not Welcome
Lauren remained still on the park bench, only her eyes following the jogger making his way around the park’s running track. He was at least a hundred metres away, but she could see the sweat on his shoulders, hear his pulse pounding along with his feet, smell the blood rising to the surface of his skin. Her head felt tight, like the beginnings of a migraine, but she didn’t need tablets for this—what she needed was the quickest and sweetest fix in the world. She slowly moved her head left and right, ensuring no one was about. She rose slowly, eyes locking on to the jogger, making his way round the home stretch, heading straight for her. But she wouldn’t wait for him to get closer. She had tracked his movements, and he was approaching the ANZAC Memorial.
Within seconds, Lauren was there, using the shadows to hide herself. She remained silent, the darkness concealing her completely. She heard the footsteps approaching. Steady, rhythmic, gravel crunching sounds, closing in. Suddenly they stopped and she knew, though she couldn’t see him, the jogger was not in the same room with her. She listened harder, still hearing the frantic heartbeat begin to slow down. So he was here, but where? She followed her senses, moving slowly as to not make a sound until she finally found him. He faced away from her, down on one knee, before a sculpture of a deceased youth held aloft on his shield by a caryatid.
With a quick movement, Lauren reached for the back of his head and sunk her fangs into his neck, shearing it open and drinking. His screams were drowned out by her hand clasped over his mouth as his flailing hand slowed and ceased altogether.
Lauren continued to drink heavily, groaning happily into the ruined flesh of her victim when her eyes rested on the statue. She let go of her meal, blood from her mouth dripping onto the dead jogger. The black of the statue glowed even in the low light of the room. Something about the statue made her feel uneasy. No...unwelcome. Unclean. She looked down at the jogger, no longer feeling like laughing. A pressure descended upon her, resting squarely on top of her but she saw nothing; but something was there, in the room with her. Rising quickly, the corpse fell with a dull thwack, suddenly too heavy for her to carry.
The pressure was building, the statue of the soldier, positioned upside down in all its beautiful sadness, appeared to be burning a hole through her. She stared back and began to tremble. Something was telling her to leave, ordering her. That her actions were reprehensible. She could almost hear the voice in her head.
With sudden desperation, Lauren spat a huge glob of blood over at the statue. The spittle hit the upside down face with a splat. “Fuck you!” she screamed through quivering lips.
Lauren turned and headed out, when she stopped and turned back, thinking she had imagined the sudden burning smell, but she hadn’t. Nor had she imagined the sound. The blood on the statue was sizzling like acid. Within seconds it had disappeared, leaving the statue as it was, blemish free, gleaming and untouched.
Lauren left, feeling strong enough only to go at human speed. She walked along a little further, stumbling outside
