The Vloodmir Vampires

AVAILABLE FOR KINDLE PURCHASE ON AMAZON // When a lust for equality and desire to break free from a tight autocratic structure forces itself into the hearts of the fed-up, hero's will rise. But when one large plan is altered by those on the side lines, who will fall and who will take the power from the Vloodmirs? But most of all, who will survive and who will die? Will secrets be leaked and will lovers become haters of one another?
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12. Chapter Nine

CHAPTER NINE

 

it’s FEEDING TIME

 

The cold, dark streets made Evelyn’s steps echo off the tall buildings on either side of her. She would have to feed off someone. Willing or not, she had to feed. Her dress wasn’t the right style and she felt out of place as she walked down the familiar streets back to her house. But they seemed darker, and they didn’t seem the same. But Evelyn knew Vloodmir like the back of her hand. She knew every back alley and every short cut. But the night had fallen quickly – quicker than usual – and sticking to the streets in these times was wise.

 

She needed to feed so badly, but she didn’t want to ruin her dress so she continued on her way back to her home. She didn’t know what her mother had been doing in the past twenty four hours – had it really been twenty four hours ago she’d been watching a Trusoni ally die at the merciless hand of a Vloodmir?

 

Turning down her street she walked down, keeping her head high. She wasn’t going to let the petty insults get in her way. She was stronger than this. But there was a small part of her brain which told her she wasn’t stronger. She had been pushed around and manipulated by some gay fuckboy. That’s what he was. He seemed to be fully open about it and that made it worse and made her uncomfortable. But she hadn’t been herself when she was with Jymes, even if it was for a short time. Those memories had recently been planted there and she fought to keep them out. A battle within her own mind. Only then did she understand what Elliot and Jymes had been going through when they fought each other.

 

Knocking on the door she waited. It was finally opened, twenty minutes later and by that time Evelyn was freezing cold. Stepping in the warm house Genevieve looked down, an eyebrow raised. “Where did you acquire that dress?” It wasn’t a general question, Genevieve wanted to know so she could buy it and show off.

“I don’t know. Jymes Border-”

“You mean the gay Vloodmir?”

“How do you – never mind. But, uh, yeah he messed with my memories and I kinda ended up here.”

“You seem calm about it.”

“Shouldn’t I be?” Evelyn asked, she wanted to be rude but that wasn’t allowed. She had to be nice. But she wanted to feed. Looking up, Evelyn finished the conversation which was nice – surprisingly – and ran up the stairs. Pulling the dress down as she went.

 

Tossing it on the bed, Evelyn walked over to her wardrobe and yanked the doors open, her muscles growing in size. Evelyn had always been weak, she never had the need to hold a weapon because she was a weapon. All her power was contained in her body so she could access it anytime. Looking around she had nothing to wear. Of course she had clothes, but when she said she had ‘no new clothes’ it meant she had run out of combinations to wear. Living for hundreds of years did that. Grabbing the first shirt, jacket and jeans she saw she shoved it on, not caring. She didn’t typically care about fashion. She cared about her family, food and how she was seen in the world. She wasn’t some low life Trusoni ally. She was strong and powerful and loyal and . . . weak. She was strong when she needed, but that was a mask. She was so much weaker than that. She was weaker than what the world saw her as.

 

Turning to the inside of her wardrobe door she ran her hands through her hair and let her nails scratch her neck, trying to get blood to circulate the body. It didn’t work. Her fingers halted at the bite marks left by her now late father and she locked eyes with herself in the mirror. She wanted to make those marks bleed. She wanted to feel pain. But she felt no emotion. She didn’t remember turning her Morality switch off but somehow it was. If Jymes could mess with memories, could he alter Morality as well? Taking a deep breath Evelyn pulled her jacket around her body tighter and did the zip up. Nice tight fake leather. It complemented her curves and made her feel ‘sexy’ in a way. The jeans were denim and faded in some areas and the shirt was on the bed. She just had her bra and jacket on. It was comfortable and she didn’t overheat. Although Vampires didn’t overheat it was nice to just not be confined by a shirt. Shutting the door, Evelyn, pushing her hair back, walked down the stairs and grabbed her Chuck Taylors. They were fading too, she’d worn them too often, but they were comfortable and this was an outfit she didn’t mind getting blood on.

“Where are you going!” A voice yelled, Genevieve wanted food too, but before Genevieve got a reply the door was slammed, the sound echoing for a good distance before stopping. Glancing back over her shoulder Evelyn picked up the pace a touch, her legs suddenly aching with the effort. She didn’t know how she’d got this tired. Of course she’d used a lot of her ability as of recent, but that couldn’t’ve affected her that much. But Evelyn hadn’t fed in days and slowly, slowly by surely, she was starving. She couldn’t be asked to go to a blood – whore central. It was easier to pick prey off the streets. But Evelyn had to be careful who she chose. It was desired that a Vampire choose someone who resembled who they were in the past so that was easy: blonde hair, tall ish, white and British looking. Of course, animal blood did well but that didn’t have as many nutrients.

 

It wasn’t long before Evelyn caught sight of her prey. She was leaning against a wall, reading a book, glasses pushed up against her face. She didn’t have blonde hair, but it was light brown – close enough. Her arms were muscled, not a typical nerd (she did look the part) but if a nerd can carry a tonne of books. They were strong. But this was Vloodmir, a city brimming with hungry Vampires on a daily basis. Looking to her right then her left, Evelyn crossed the road, taking the direct route to her prey. Although she didn’t want to use her fangs to pierce open the neck and use her tongue or lips to lap up the blood she didn’t have the time – or money on her – to buy a syringe and do it safely. She just didn’t care at the time. When she was a few meters away a bolt of electricity was sent out, an evil smile playing on Evelyn’s lips. Her element was running on reserves and was down to its last bar. The girl crumbled. She was unconscious – perfect. Placing her fingers under the girl’s chin, Evelyn lifted her up slightly, and looked at the neck. A vein full of blood sticking out – perfect. Grimacing, Evelyn sunk her fangs into the girl’s neck, at first it tasted horrible, a taste of metal and . . . and was that chocolate? Two tastes that never went well together. But Evelyn gave up with the mental complaints and carried on, quenching her thirst. She was done in just under five minutes. She used the girl’s phone to check.

Watching the bite mark holes close up, Evelyn took a step back. The girl’d probably have some memory of the night, but it was all be a blur. Being fed off did that to a Vampire. Or to anyone in all honesty. Any loss of blood made it hard to cope. Letting the body fall to the floor Evelyn turned and walked back, stretching her arms over her head, interlocking her fingers. Making an obscure noise as she stretched she shook it out, letting her hair go wild. Grinning she continued her walk down the streets, looking at the lights and her supernatural, sensitive hearing picked up all the noises around. She heard the conversations of Ghosts, Demons, the corrupt Vloodmir’s and the tacky banter of young Vampires (only a hundred, so young) trying to be cool yet failing miserably. The night sky held no clouds and the breeze was warm – strange for the time of year – but in Britain, everything could change so quickly. It could go from warm to cold in an instant but those from Britain were made from stronger stuff.

 

*

 

Elliot had no trouble getting a blood whore. They were easy to locate in their ‘habitat’. Tight leather pants, bikini like top and exposed neck. They were either sitting down or walking around, head normally tilted to the side. They were Mortals, non Vampires, human beings who had been used for feeding only. They were so used to the adrenaline and the rush of being bitten it was how they lived. And they got it constantly now they were in Vloodmir. The blood whore sanctuary was like a brothel of sorts, but without the prostitutes; they lived down Evelyn’s road. He had been given a needle when he came in and now he was looking around for his prey. It was more sanitary feeding here, you were given a needle so you could easily remove the blood. The top was coated in Vampire Fang so the blood whores still got a thrill.

 

One young man was lounging by the window, seated on a leather couch. His hair was white and pushed back in a quiff. His eyes were pink – all of them were. They weren’t a Vampire so their eyes didn’t go red. They went pink because they never finished the transition. He was shirtless and his chest was beautifully toned. His jeans were black but that didn’t matter. Slowly walking over, Elliot leaned over, his breath ticking the man’s neck. With the needle exposed, Elliot shoved it in the man’s neck and got the blood sample he needed. The eyes were a pale pink, Elliot saw that clearly. New blood, strong and powerful. He didn’t need much, one full needle would do the trick. Next, just put it in a wine glass, bin the needle and drink the blood.

 

The entire process for Elliot took half an hour. The longest stage was waiting to bin the needle and locate his prey. It wasn’t like the streets where you took whoever came first. In the sanctuary you picked who you wanted and you had to pick and choose wisely. Otherwise you’d have to take many samples and that wastes time and several needles; also it was horribly ineffective. Elliot walked back to the door, not bothering to glance over at the girl he had just drained blood from. He placed his glass on the table and the needle in the bin. It locked automatically and registered any Vloodmir or their ally. Facial Recognition was very good for those sort of things. Only the Vloodmir’s got the bins, The Trusoni’s had to dispose of their needles some other way.

 

Pushing the doors open, despite the warmth of the evening, the cold hit Elliot surprisingly hard. Looking around he gripped the door and walked into the sheltered entrance, rain hitting the glass roof. The outside did look fancy, a glass roof with plants lining the always polished cobbles. Tinted windows so you could see out but never in and the tinted automatic doors. It was fancy. But the original founders – the Vampires with the surname Vloodmir wanted to show their strength, beauty, grace and ability to their foes, their nemesis’ and their enemy. It had started off as showing off, but now almost every building looked graceful and elegant. Some looked run down, but those were buildings which weren’t fit for use, be it insulation, water or heat issues.

 

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Elliot walked down the streets, eyes glued to the floor. He needed something to do. The nightclub was under construction, it was a bliss that Vampiric workers could go for a long time. By the end of the week it would be fit for use again. They were trying to model what it looked like, and from what Elliot had seen on his way to the sanctuary, it was going rather well. The outside was done. The inside was all that needed to be done.

 

But going to the Insanity Syndrome would mean facing Snow. And Elliot hated Snow. But Snow was an ally. So Elliot had to like him, there were no two ways about it.

 

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