Page 11 of Before We Burn

We don’t typically get vampires from anywhere other than Zone 1 and Zone 0. At one point they were called North something—the name stored somewhere in a distant lesson I paid no attention to. These vampires are different, especially because these ones were bold enough to kill during the day. I look at the bodies of the humans who had been killed, and I instantly notice the blood pooling on the floor. My brows pull together, my confusion causing me to get more agitated. They weren’t feeding on them; they were changing them. But why?

I press my gun against her temple hard enough to nearly knock her over, my finger itching to pull that trigger. “I want you to tell us everything.”

5

AGED IN BLOOD

MARZANA

Sitting at a bar drinking alone wasn’t how I expected to start my Sunday night, but it is exactly where I want to be. My house has been feeling more like a cage lately, so I needed to get out. Places like this had been set up when I was first turned—vampire speakeasies in a sense—but not as elaborate as they once were. This one is nicer than the rest with low warm lighting on the walls and a decent slab of concrete forming into a bar. The bottles of alcohol sit on silver metal floating counters with some type of distressed plexiglass on the wall.

I order a Bloody Mary—my usual—while I wait for Constantine to show up. She is always late, always doing her own thing. She is too old and too mad at the world to think anyone deserves her time. Except me. Connie doesn’t like anyone, but the day I met her, we instantly took to each other. There was no awkwardness, and our conversations flowed one into another until the sun rose and we forgot why we met in the first place.

That’s when she really saw me, when my reality had begun to weigh on me and I wanted out. She was the one to convince me to leave.

I had originally hoped she was my creator—the one who turned me—but she told me she refuses to turn anyone. Watching centuries pass by does nothing but make you miserable. I was too young to understand it then, but now—three hundred plus years in—I’m beginning to feel the exhaustion.

The feeling isn’t long lasting, but there's just enough fatigue every morning to realize this shit isn’t fun. Every hundred years it's more bullshit, repeating the same shit with a different name.

Constantine had it figured out, though. She used to tell me immortality is something people craved because they don’t know the struggles of someone who’s less privileged. Humans learned how to torture us. They learned that keeping us alive was a lot more fun than watching us rot—like it wasn’t enough we already lost everything that we were before.

I can’t imagine inflicting that much pain on an entire species of people because you feel threatened. Vampires existed long before The Premier Leader and his followers knew about us. We led quiet lives, and only two or three of us were ever discovered—the trouble was usually something small and localized. We didn’t interfere in any affairs, as it was easier to blend in with society and get your food locally.

Yet, they saw us—saw power—and needed to destroy it to cater to their fragile egos. There is nothing worse than a man hell bent on proving his point. And that’s how I view the Premier Leader.

With Connie it’s different, because she’s a lot older than a lot of the vampires I’ve met. She had time to figure out where she came from, seeking some semblance of home, and was able to narrow it down to somewhere in southeast Asia. But every time she got close, something happened.

She’s lived through horrors, but she’s always made sure to remind me that anything done to her was paid back in blood ten times over. Her ruthlessness has been talked about for centuries, since she is one of the reasons vampires still exist, and her abilities are unique—the unknown is always feared.

Seduction is a powerful tool when used the right way. Persuasion is an even stronger tool, especially if you can fool people into thinking it’s only seduction.

She doesn’t have to undress or speak a word to you. She just needs a second of eye contact to draw you in, making you bend in ways you never even imagined, all because she can influence your smallest wants and needs. She has the influence to make you do something, even if you’ve only thought about it once.

I’ve seen her bring out the best in people—fuel their passions and help them create realistic goals for themselves—but I’ve also seen her pry into the darkest parts of a person, their lives forever changed because they got on Constantine’s bad side.

I lean back in my seat, the tension from the week putting so much strain on me it feels like I’m actually dying. Whatever that feels like. I just assume dying makes you feel tired…lost. Like everything around you is spinning and there is nothing you can do to stop it. Once you finally stop spinning, that’s when you recognize where you landed. For me, that place would be the void. For all the souls I took, for what I am, I wouldn’t blame whichever god decided to put me there. I was dangerous—I am dangerous—and I don’t plan on changing anytime soon. Being a vampire sucks, but I don’t totally hate it.

A breeze of air blows on the back of my neck, and I assume it’s Constantine. She’s well over forty minutes late, and it would be her typical style to make a very dramatic announcement of her arrival. But when I turn to my left, I see a man with a complexion similar to milk once it turns sour—yellow and sickly—his beady blue eyes watching me like I’m about to be his next meal.

I give him a quick ‘get away from me’ look, hoping he sees how uninterested I am. It doesn’t work, though, and he waves the bartender over with a smirk on his face. “Hey love, get us both your finest blood wine.” Gag. I raise a brow and look back at him, confused by the ‘us’ part of his sentence.

“He means him, Ellie. Get him—and only him—aged wine. I’ll take another Bloody Mary, though.” I sip the last of my drink, sliding Ellie—the bartender—my empty glass.

They wear a smile on their face, their eyes assessing me and the guy sitting next to me. “A double or single, Marz?” This was their way of asking if everything was okay. I nod, knowing if a fight breaks out over my inevitable rejection, I will be the one finishing it.

Ellie walks away to make our drinks while the man sits beside me, his eyes burning a hole in the side of my face. I reluctantly give him the attention he is so desperate for and turn to face him. “What do you want?” I ask, my movements languid and my tone bored.

“You.”

“Well, that sucks, because the feeling isn’t mutual.”

His eyes narrow at me, and flickering lights pull my attention away from him. It’s as if the entire building has lost power, but that’s impossible. The Council of Five owns this bar, and they wouldn’t allow an electricity issue. My attention shifts back to him, a devilish smile on his face telling me it was him. He’s smug, and I hate that more than when he called Ellie love.

They hate that.

“You don’t even know me,” he says, casually and without defense.

I give him a look of both shock and boredom, though I am intrigued—he obviously has a story to tell. His outfit is questionable, and the more I look at it, the more confused I become.