Punk Rock Vampire

Maimed

Michonne crinkled her nose at the spread of refreshments. Bloody Mary, blood pudding, blood stew - it was possible to feel squeamish on an empty stomach.

Rick had left her stranded, snatched away by a blonde with way too much cleavage for her dress. He'd reminded her not to look anyone in the eyes and to not wander off, as though she were a child in an unfamiliar and dangerous world.

In a room full of vampires, however, that might be closer to the truth than she would ever admit.

Daryl stood a few feet to her left, back to the wall, scanning the room. He blended into the shadows in his black shirt and suit, his motorcycle vest retired for the evening and his normally tangled hair tamed by a touch of product. He remained close enough for her to know he was there, but far enough to avoid any actual conversation.

An indifferent grunt had been her only reward for attempting small talk. The aloof man may have been hopeless when it came to human interaction, but she felt safe knowing at least one set of eyes on her would be his.

Michonne sipped her deliciously strong gin and tonic, settling into the buzz. Courage snuck up on her, nudging her to take in the surroundings. The ballroom was so grand, she had to remind herself that she was actually in someone's home. A crystal chandelier gleamed in the center of the room, illuminating the gold trim of the walls and arches in a regal glow. Evenly spaced lamp fixtures softened the corners of the room, driving away at least some of the darkness.

A jazz quartet, uniformly decked out in black and red, played a somber yet soulful tune. Servers dressed in all red traversed the ballroom balancing trays of pink champagne and more blood-colored hors d'oeuvres that made her stomach turn. There was very little dancing, with most vampires huddled in intimate groups, hobnobbing in evening wear and exquisitely decorated masks.

Michonne adjusted her own mask, letting her skin breathe. Rick had given it to her before they'd exited the limo. The mask was hand-stitched black lace shaped in elegant curves and paired with black rhinestones. A matching brooch on the left side of the mask, which was only large enough to cover the top half of her face, held a flurry of silky feathers, with streaks of dark red and purple.

"It's beautiful," Michonne had said, handling it with delicacy as she admired the intricacy of the design. Attending a masquerade ball was a first for her.

"May I?" Rick asked.

She nodded curtly and handed him the mask. He placed it lightly on her face, his fingers brushing her cheeks as he reached behind her to tie the black strands of silk in a knot at the back of her updo.

Even now, as Michonne's eyes kept landing on him in the crowded ballroom, she felt the shiver Rick's touch had evoked. He stood on the other side of the room, his hand on the shoulder of a bulky, red-headed man who reminded her of a drill sergeant, with his cropped haircut and thick mustache. The intricate tailoring of Rick's suit was even more admirable from afar, the sleeves of his jacket just tight enough to flatter his sculpted biceps. He appeared to be in deep conversation, but Michonne was sure that if she even sniffed, he would hear it.

It freaked her out how quiet the vampires were, their collective voices barely audible against the backdrop of smooth jazz; the only sign they were something other than human beings.

The perfect predators, she thought, unease causing a tingling sensation at the back of her jaw. After tonight, she hoped to never think of these human-looking predators again.

All eyes had been on her when she'd walked into the grand ballroom at Rick's side. She'd gone from feeling confident to confined in her dress, trapped by the tight clothing. Although most of the guests had returned to their conversations without giving her a second glance, she still felt their eyes on her.