Vampire Miami (23 page)

“Enough,” said the woman. “Now crawl around the
circle. Slowly.”

Shuddering, Selah felt back to all fours, and
began to crawl once more. The world was spinning, and she had
difficulty discerning the difference between the shadows and the
walls, the cushions and the eager-eyed vampires who watched her.
She crawled over to the first cushion, and there the vampire, a
lean child of about her age, leaned forward and ran his tongue down
her shoulder, licking a long stream of blood from her skin.

Selah lowered her head, choking on her sobs, and
continued on. As she passed each vampire they leaned forward to
lick the blood from her, tilting her head to one side or the other,
running their rough, dry tongues down her chest, across her neck,
over her belly. By the time she reached the female vampire, she was
crisscrossed by their trails, the blood smeared thinly all over
her.

“Look at me, child,” said the woman. Selah
raised her face, focused on her vulpine, heavenly features. The
eyes were large with delirium and pleasure. A cold hand cupped her
chin, a finger ran down her cheek and then probed past her lips,
pushing a blood-smeared tip onto her tongue. The coppery taste was
disgusting, and Selah gagged, but the woman held her tight by the
chin, and then leaned down to kiss her.

Her lips were full, her tongue muscular, and she
tasted of ashes and death. Her hands were tight about Selah’s head.
Selah closed her eyes, fought to not think, not feel. Had she
thought she could do this? Had she thought she could attend
something like this and leave with her mind? Her thoughts were
leaves that had been shredded from the branches of a tree. Her
sense of self spiraled ever down into a deep abyss, and she knew
that the night was just beginning.

The woman broke the kiss, and then ran her
tongue down Selah’s cheek. “There,” she whispered. “Learn to enjoy
this. What are you but flesh? What is the flesh but a means of
experiencing the world? And what is this moment if not one of the
most intense moments you shall ever live through?” She lifted
Selah’s chin with two fingers, and licked a line from her
collarbone to the hollow of her throat. “Relish it,” she said,
breathing her stale, blood-rank words into Selah’s ear. “Learn from
it, learn to love this, and you shall be free of the shackles that
bind so many humans to ignorance and fear.”

Let it end
, was all Selah could think.
Please, please, let it end.
She tried to think of Mama B,
her father, but nothing came. She tried to summon her pride, her
strength, but it was gone. There was nothing now but revulsion and
fear, numbness and terror.

“Enough,” said a voice, cutting through the
music and whispers and the beat of Selah’s heart. The hands about
Selah’s arm and neck tightened painfully, and Selah felt more than
saw her look up.

“Enough, Jocasta,” said the voice again. “Give
her to me. This is over.”

“This is but begun,” said the woman, voice taut
with sudden anger. “This is my haven, my home, and you are here by
my invitation alone. Leave.”

“No,” said the voice. Selah felt something
within her stir. Jocasta. The name was familiar. She tried to turn
her head, but she couldn’t.

Jocasta stood with such violence that Selah was
sent sprawling. “You stand alone, Theo, surrounded by my brood. You
stand alone, and Sawiskera is far from here. Do you wish to court
my wrath?”

“I court nothing. I demand. Give her over. I
shall not ask again.”

Selah pushed herself upright. Trembling, she
opened her gummed-up eyes and looked. Theo stared across the room
at her. The other vampires had stood, arrayed in angular poses of
tension about him, none too close, but clearly drawing comfort from
each other. Theo ignored them. His gaze was locked on the
woman’s.

“You wouldn’t dare,” she whispered, furious.

He did not respond. Instead, he began to walk
forward, toward them, and Selah felt hope leap bright and pure
within her heart.

Faster than her eye could follow, faster than
Selah could understand, Jocasta had her by the throat and lifted
her into the air, her grip so strong, it nearly crushed her
windpipe. Lifted her, and then her teeth were buried in Selah’s
neck, buried deep, and her blood burst forth into the woman’s
mouth. Theo roared something, but Selah could take no more.
Darkness clouded her eyes, agony and release and fell ecstasy and
the world spun away and was gone.

Pain. Euphoria. A cruel desire to resurface.
Selah felt it all coursing through her like filthy oil, soiling her
and energizing her all at once. She felt the need to move, to
release this energy, this pressure building up within her, driving
her crazy. She couldn’t contain it, couldn’t hold it in, felt as if
she would burst. The only surcease was to let it free.

She was high in the heavens, and then she was
speeding down into that endless ocean. The stars were streaming
down beside her, a rainfall of bloodied meteors. Down she went,
pushing for oblivion, for that impact, that collision with the dark
waters. Pushing, eyes wide, and the tears that streamed from her
were of blood.

Selah collided with the ocean and snapped open
her eyes. The sound of battle reached her, clear and distinct, each
blow and cry as it took place. She turned her head, burning with
fever, shivering still, her joints aching, sweat slicking her skin.
Turned her face and stared into the eyes of the female vampire, who
lay by her side. Who was smiling brokenly, tears running down her
own perfect cheeks, her thick black hair lustrous and draped over
her as if in a gesture of modesty. They gazed into each other’s
eyes, and then Jocasta closed her own and curled onto her side,
shaking her head as if seeking to deny something, an awful truth
whose weight she could not bear.

Selah sat up. Beyond the female vampire she saw
Theo fighting a dozen vampires all at once. It was a virtuoso
performance, and even as amped as Selah was, she had difficulty
following his movements, tracing each side step, each punch, each
rake of his nails. He was the center of the storm, and yet powerful
as he was, he was being overwhelmed. Twelve vampires converged upon
him, leaping back and forth, each also effortlessly fast and
agile.

Selah stood. She looked down at Jocasta who lay
weeping with both joy and remorse, curled up like a nautilus shell.
Selah felt no pity, no empathy, no care. All the anger and
humiliation came roaring back to her, along with a desire to hurt,
to find revenge. She remembered vividly this monster’s orders, each
mocking laugh, how she’d made her crawl.

Selah took her by the throat, lifted her so that
she dangled from her hand, raised effortlessly in the air. Jocasta
stared down at Selah, and most terribly didn’t seem to care. Blood
streamed from her eyes, and she smiled tremulously before closing
them. Selah stared at her, and wondered how many years this
creature had walked the earth, how many decades, centuries. How
many had she killed? Abused, tortured? She looked at where the
sacrificial victim hung—Marco—and snarled and then tore out
Jocasta’s throat.

Blood, black and tarry, spattered forth, but not
as much as she’d expected. Jocasta stiffened in pain but did not
scream. Instead she gave a sigh of relief, and then her skin
darkened, became pitted and coarse. In a matter of moments her hair
fell from her scalp, her body disintegrated, and she fell to the
ground, a collection of worn bones and ash as all her years caught
up with her.

Selah laughed. Laughed, feeling lost, vile,
sickened and lazy with pleasure and delight. Turned, plunged into
the melee taking place behind her. Reached out with both hands to
take hold of a vampire by the back of the neck and his belt,
hurling him with all her stolen vigor and strength into the wall
with bone-snapping force.

Another sensed her, spun into a crouch and
leaped, but Selah leaned back all the way so that her hands touched
the ground, causing the vampire to sail over her. She followed the
motion through, kicking her legs up so that she went into a
backflip and slammed both feet into the vampire’s chest as it
turned to face her. It staggered back, off balance, and Selah rose
to bury her fist in its face, crunching bone and dropping it
mewling to the ground.

Selah laughed, and with that laugh the last
vestiges of her sense of self slipped away. She was mayhem; she was
chaos incarnate. She skipped forward, and then leaped at another,
an older woman who fell back, blocking her blows desperately,
trying to keep up as Selah pummeled with ever greater and inhuman
speed, a flurry so fast that her blows started to slip through and
then that was enough: two, three blows and the vampire went down,
still trying to block, not realizing that one of her ocular ridges
had been crushed, her lower jaw torn off. Selah stepped on her
neck, crushed it, and rejoined the fray.

The whole of it lasted perhaps thirty seconds.
Thirty seconds from beginning to finish, and then only Theo and
Selah were standing, Selah panting but Theo composed, both staring
at the strewn bodies, the yells and screams spreading through the
room as panic set people fleeing for their lives.

Selah inhaled in great, sensual heaves. She was
drowning in anger. She felt so much fury. She was a bottomless well
that knew only the desire to destroy. This was what it meant to
have power. This was what it meant to be able to impose your will
over another. She turned to regard Theo. He was staring at her.

“Selah,” he said.

Selah laughed. She didn’t know the meaning of
the name. Maybe once she had. But here, now, streaked in blood,
filled with alien might, without care, without concern, it meant
less than nothing.

“Selah,” said Theo again, and took a step back
as she began to walk toward him, “stop.”

“Why?” Her voice was strange to her, thick and
sensual and delighted and taut with energy. “What for? So that I
can suffer this again and again and again? Each and every night?”
She smiled sweetly at him, at her supposed savior, at the Dragon.
“I don’t think so.”

His brows raised, and then lowered. “Don’t.”

Her grin grew more manic. “People are always
telling me what to do. I think I’m tired of that. Tired of
behaving. I think for once I’m going to do what I want. Whatever I
want.” She took another step forward. She should calm down, she
should think, but there was no room for that. Not after tonight.
Not with this much fevered blood coursing through her body, making
her want to scream, to let the energy loose in a torrent of
sound.

All context was going. She knew he should mean
something to her. But he was just another filthy vampire. Just
another black-eyed parasite that lived off human misery and kept
countless thousands shackled as slaves. He was worse than scum—he
was the personification of all evil.

He deserved to die.

What was more, killing him would be fun.

With a scream Selah threw herself forward,
moving as fast as she could, seeking to destroy him, wipe the floor
with his carcass. But he wasn’t there. She was almost quick enough.
Almost fast enough. Each blow came within half an inch, sometimes
even scoring a groove across his skin. He was a blur, ducking and
swaying before her, always giving ground, causing her to howl in
fury, in frustration. Screaming, she poured all her might into her
next punch, swung it from her hips with all her strength, and
caught him finally across the jaw. Felt his head snap to the side,
felt him falter, saw him stumble.

Sensing weakness, she was upon him, but the
Dragon, it seemed, had had enough. He caught her next punch in the
palm of his hand, and his grip was a vise that ground her bones
against each other. Selah let forth another scream, and swung her
other fist, but he caught that one too. She slammed her head
forward, seeking to crush his nose, but he let go of her fists and
stepped aside, letting her momentum carrying her past, falling
forward. She saw him lace his hands into a hammer out of the corner
of her eye, but never saw the actual blow fall.

Instead, one moment she was fighting for
balance, to turn on him, and the next there was oblivion.

Selah awoke to find herself being washed by the
tides. She was held in somebody’s arms, allowed to float in the
calm waters of the ocean. No metaphorical ocean, this; she tasted
salt in her mouth, felt the strength in the arms that cradled
beneath her shoulders and knees. The ocean water was cool but not
cold, and the night air as always was a balm on her fevered soul.
She closed her eyes and allowed the gentle waves to rock her.

After awhile, she opened her eyes. The moon had
cleared the sky’s meridian and was now sloping down and away to the
western horizon, a half moon, the heavens clear once more of
clouds. Water droplets beaded her eyelashes, but she didn’t wipe
them away. Instead, she studied Theo’s face. He was gazing past
her, at the far horizon where the ocean bled into the night sky,
the distant curvature of the earth that defied boundaries. He felt
her gaze and looked down at her. For the first time, his black eyes
didn’t elicit a frisson of horror. Alien, yes. Strange and
unreadable, always. But not horrific.

Selah allowed her mind to peer into memory. To
slowly allow what had taken place to come creeping back into her
thoughts. An image, a bowl of stone, blood congealing in its base.
She shuddered, a visceral rejection. The feel of tongues rasping
over her body, as dry and rough as those of lizards. She shuddered
again, felt her gorge rise, and slipped free of Theo’s arms and
dove into the water.

She closed her eyes and swam with powerful
strokes, through the drag and pull of the ocean, not knowing in
which direction she swam, nor caring. Allowed the water to purify
her, wash her of both blood and sin. She’d always feared the ocean,
feared its dark depths. Had always imagined a night dive to be the
most terrifying thing possible. Now she knew better. So she swam
until her lungs felt they might burst, until seized by fear that
she did not know how deep she’d swum, and then turned and ascended,
up until she broke the surface with a gasp.