The Vampire's Rival

When she didn't exist

"Your eyes have a lovely red hue today, Ruqwik," said Lujeo. His voice was pleasant, but his smile didn't touch his lurid green eyes. Those were filled with condescension.

I repressed an exasperated sigh. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he got to me. Usually, I could tolerate Lujeo's patronising existence, but my will was thin today, after being forced into a beyond ostentatious and extravagant midnight black ball room gown and strappy heels for this contrived social annual event that was nothing more than a pissing contest.

I took a sip from my glass of blood and licked my lips.

"And fuck you too, Lujeo," I said, just as pleasantly.

I try not to cause trouble, but in that black suit, crisp white shirt, black tie, his forever greying midnight black hair parted at the side and sleeked back, and that smarmy smile plastered on his face, he was begging for trouble tonight.

"If it was any other Baron, they'd have fired you for that." Lujeo kept that smarmy smile.

"If it was any other Baron, they wouldn't have hired me in the first place." I replied. Though, technically, he hadn't really 'hired' me. We were friends more than anything else.

Lucky for Lujeo, the floor was absurdly immaculate, because I was seriously considering wiping it with him. I kept my eyes on him but redirected my focus away from his sanctimonious presence to the crowd around us. Conversations went on quietly, a few laughs and giggles here and there. Everything was calm. Nonchalant. Safe. Was is worth it to disturb the chilled ambience just to prove a point?

Troiwa joined us. One of our oldest friends. He wrapped a hand around my waist and kissed my cheek. He'd been standing across the room, watching my will to stay non-violent wearing thin. I considered the kiss a reward for keeping my composure.

We were in Lujeo's mansion, one of the larger mansions in town. One of the only mansions left in this Enclave from before the Human Error. Lujeo kept it meticulous and grand with his army of vampire and human servants. It had been two hundred and fifty years since the Human Error, but the place looked just as it had all those years ago. That was the thing about the vampires living in Lujeo's Enclave. Members of this Enclave took to conserving items from the past as their way to assuage the boredom of immortality post apocalypse.

Every Enclave had their own way to cope. The vampires living in Paluri's Enclave were obsessed with attempting to create art. They would paint six-year long murals or spend decades living in a glass dome with an artificial lake where they grew lotus flowers to harvest and spin lotus silk. Instead, we had Lujeo and his equally self-righteous friends, intent on never letting us forget our godawful existence over two hundred years ago. They preserved the past and attempted to reenact it whenever they could get away with it. In fact, that was the reason for this unnecessary rehearsal dinner at dawn. A rehearsal to spotlight and stress on the protocol and expectations for the Sun Festival later tonight. Another forceful voyage into the memory of the days before the Human Error.

To play peacemaker between Lujeo and I, Troiwa spoke.

"I think what Ruqwik means," said Troiwa, sipping on his glass of blood, his eyes just as red as mine. "Is that, as your Chief of Security, she needs to always be at full strength. Just in case her services are needed in the course of the event."

Lujeo raised a brow in response.

"I suppose that is understandable. And what about you, Mr. Troiwa? You have no similar obligations. Yet you too choose not to join us in the blood fast for the festival tonight," said Lujeo, turning to face my friend.

"Thank you, but no thank you. Sleritu's Enclave chooses to fondly remember the wanton blood baths that made the days of the Human Error as some of the best days of our existence," said Troiwa, taking another sip of blood and enjoying the flare of need that flashed in Lujeo's bright green eyes. I noticed it as well and smirked. Troiwa continued. "We do not believe in self-flagellating and pickling ourselves in memories of the few moments of starvation that dotted the times."