"These are not your average vamps, dearie. Not by a long shot."
Black and Red have been Nightwalkers for longer than they care to count, and that alone is unusual enough to attract unwanted attention.
Life and survival in the Blue Light District is...
Trance music surged from the impromptu club forming down the block. The thrumming baseline and soaring aria sent a chill racing up my spine. I let the waves of anticipation and adrenaline in the music seep into my body and moved with it. Energy was energy, after all.
Nearby, Kenna shifted her weight and eased closer. A glance over my shoulder found Kenna a fraction closer than expected. The loud pink latex of her right sleeve crowded around the biceps made for a makeshift tourniquet as Kenna pressed a sleek hypno-hitter against the inside of her elbow and pressed the button. The fluid injecting into her vein wasn't the standard vivid turquoise Bluebird pushed by local dealers. Instead, its pale fuchsia matched her outfit. It probably kept unintentional over-spray from showing. I shuddered.
I flashed her a smile, inviting her to dance with me. Working a slow stretch of street, it didn't leave much to occupy the mind, or the restless body.
The proximity of my fellow Nightwalker, her weight and heat pressing against my aura, registered faint and insubstantial, a shadow.
She glanced up, slipping the small hitter into her back pocket without missing a beat of the music with her hips and waist. "Scored it off a pusher on 58th." I tried wiping the judgment from my face, but the grimace she tossed at me as she yanked her sleeve down indicated my failure.
"Well at least you were near a cemetery," I conceded.
Kenna ignored me, focused on smoothing the material and smudging any traces of the drug from her cuff.
I wanted to snark, "you missed a spot," but bit my tongue. It wouldn't be the same without someone sharing the humor, and Jhez had staked out the far side of the boulevard this evening.
No john would care if Kenna masked her chi, synthetically amping her energies with a temporary surge. It brightened her aura, made her look healthier, a sort of electromagnetic steroid. Kenna had a few sales left in her, but none of them would be worth much.
She and I probably wouldn't work together again. I'd seen it a hundred times if I'd seen it once. When the drug wore off, there was nothing left. Unlikely she'd be near a cemetery when it happened.
That meant street sweepers would cart her off to the regeneration plants. Everything got recycled. Everything.
I used to warn them. I wanted to help my fellow 'walkers of this blue-lit boulevard, but the years and futility have left me jaded. And it's been a lot of years. The other 'walkers either found the strength to figure it out on their own, or they didn't. It wasn't something I could teach them. My frustration only fueled my depression, but it hurt less if I stayed clear of it.
Seeking distraction, I looked up at the night sky. There was a meteor shower in full swing this week. Would any stars be visible? It wasn't likely, not with the glow from the buildings so close. But I tried.
Staring up at the dark gray wash of sky with my hands crammed in my pockets, straining my neck and eyes alike, that's when I felt it.
Someone is looking. Their sharp gaze studying me registered like razors along my nerve endings, a probe of my aura like the fumbling grope of a drunk.
Maybe I'll get lucky and tonight will end up productive after all. I scanned the oncoming traffic, tracked a compact vehicle as it slowed and veered toward my side of the boulevard. It crossed empty lanes in rapid succession, aiming straight for me on a street devoid of life.
Activity, yes. Plenty of that.
The lightweight two-seater crawled along the curb, reflecting back an alien hue from the cramped buildings lining the street.
Even here in the slums, the metro's lighting didn't fail. Block after block down the boulevard, the shabby buildings radiated a steady, azure glow. It played over the vehicle's glossy surfaces, lending it a luminescence I didn't often glimpse.
For a moment, however brief, the sight felt ethereal. Magical. I soaked up the sensation, drank it in, willing the stranger not to move or speak; I wanted to stay right here for a while. To freeze this pristine instant of unrealized potential before the vamp flapped their lips and made an ass out of themselves. It happened every time, without fail, and every time I managed to conceal the sigh of disappointment and refrained from putting voice to whatever sarcastic comment popped into my head.
Silence, magical energy. Can't it last, please, for just a little longer?
No such luck. The potential john shattered the spell. "So strong." Judging from his barely audible murmur, the comment wasn't intended for my ears. A sharp gaze of yellow eyes above a smile on his dark lips encompassed my first impression. His expression wasn't warm or friendly. It wasn't that kind of smile; still, it embodied something I understood.
I curled my lips in a lopsided retaliatory grin and bent forward a fraction, my gaze almost level with his. "And it'll cost you," I said, lacing my tone with a drop of honey. Looks might not matter all that much in this business, but a twist of coy charm never harmed a sale. And it got me a better look at him, in the dim interior of his car.
Easy on the eyes, but the kind of clean-cut nondescript that could melt into a crowd. His eyes, their vivid color, were his sole distinguishing feature.
He blinked as though surprised, then narrowed his gaze. The piercing sensation increased and a wave of pain flooded my body, a rush of adrenaline in its wake.
Jhez would call me thrill junkie for turning tables on a predator. I lived for the moment when they hesitated and questioned who hunted who, however short-lived.
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