The Empty Chairs

She was sitting in a cafe in the old, dignified city, watching the counter girl placing chairs in front of a fake fireplace. When the girl was done she put small signs on the back of each in her language. She walked over to Barbra and said, in excellent English, "Please do not sit in the chairs."

Barbra nodded, although wondering what that was about, and sipped her drink, looking out the window. The city looked so, so, normal, yet was so utterly different than home. It was the same yet not, like not only different place but a separate dimension or world. She knew she'd never get over the sense of difference of herself in these places.

"Old," she muttered. "Old and ancient."

Across the night-time street she could see forms moving in what looked like a park; she had to admit she hadn't noticed the place at all, during the day. In the deep dark small pinpricks of light moved and flickered. People were walking around with candles. She wondered what they were doing; it was probably another mysterious holiday or celebration she knew nothing about.

As she sat quietly, thinking, two people emerged from the park, a man and a woman. They walked across the street to the cafe and came in.

Barbra tried not to study them, but she had to: they were striking. The woman was stunningly beautiful, probably in her early thirties but in the prime of her life, a pale Slavic study in perfection, her blonde hair in an immaculate swooshy hairstyle; her coat was a deep purple and extended to her knees, and below the lower hem Barbra could see perfectly shaped legs. The shoes looked familiar, and Barbra realized she'd seen them in a shop earlier in the week: they were designer and hideously expensive.

The man was easily the woman's match; older, maybe mid-forties, Barbra thought; he had a short, graying beard and long hair, usually a Euro-douchebag look she couldn't stand, but this man easily pulled it off. He wore a black coat and shoes that looked Italian and expensive; he turned and looked squarely at her and smiled, and she saw his eyes were black and weirdly intense against pale skin. She caught herself freezing solid and staring back at him. The woman looked at her as well, but turned up her chin and regarded Barbra haughtily before moving on to the counter.

The girl behind the counter spoke with them in their language, and out of the corner of her eye Barbra could see the girl was nervous with the pair, almost frightened. Barbra wondered if they were mobsters or something, the kind of Eastern Bloc criminals she'd seen in train stations, gangsters with their molls. She saw the girl glance at her while talking to the couple, and she knew they were talking about her. It made her uncomfortable, but also, this time, she felt slightly thrilled that the couple would be interested in her, dressed in her traveling garbof light pants and logoed hoodie. She felt like a dowdy tourist, a caricature of the twenty something backpacker. She thought about why she'd taken out her savings and come here, traveling. Then she remembered: why not? It wasn't like she had or could get a decent job. She grimaced and clenched her hands.

A sharp blast of cold air came in under the old, wooden door, and Barbra shivered briefly, quickly sipping another hot sample of her drink. She turned to the window, watching the candles move in the park, looking through her own reflection.

When she turned back the couple was sitting at the table directly next to hers. She hadn't heard them at all, not even a rustle of clothing or coats. She started, surprised. The man said, "Hello," in good but accented English. Barbra responded in kind, looking at the two. The woman had taken her coat off, revealing a black dress that contrasted sharply with the paleness of her skin. She obviously wasn't wearing a bra, and the woman had absolutely luscious, perfectly shaped breasts that stood up by themselves and poked nipples through the black fabric of the dress. Barbra caught herself staring at the woman's supernatural chest.

The man said, "I am Carlo, and this is my sister." He didn't say another name. Barbra introduced herself, sipped her drink, and looked out the window again, through her reflection.

Carlo said, "That's a cemetery." He pronounced it oddly, like 'CEM-ay-tory', rolling the final 'R'. "The people are placing candles on the graves of their relatives and loved ones." He asked where she was from, and she told him; he nodded.

Carlo said, "It is, like your Halloween. But here, there is no tricks, or treats; it is a day for the departed." He pointed at the chairs. "Those are for the family who can be here, only in spirit. The girl-" he waved at the girl behind the counter, who widened her eyes when Carlo indicated her- "those are for her family members who no longer walk on the Earth."

He picked up the cup sitting in front of him and sipped. "It is a quaint custom, the chairs." He smiled, a gentle expression that still managed to lock Barbra in her place.

The three sat quietly for a while, while Barbra tried honestly to think of something to say that might interest these two unearthly stylish people.

Carlo finished his drink and set it down; Barbra could see a slight residue of dark liquid in the bottom. He said, "Come. We'll show you. You should..." he smiled gently, "...experience new things." He raised his head, tilted it slightly, and said, smiling, "Don't worry, it is not like, you know, that movie, 'HOTEL', is it?"

Barbra laughed a little, "'HOSTEL', you mean?"

Carlo laughed, a deep, warm, welcoming sound. "Yes. It is not like that. Come."

Barbra hesitated, then made a decision. She knew the city was far safer than where she was from, even; their idea of 'crime' was, for the most part, laughable. It was easily the safest place she'd ever been in her life, and there were plenty of people out. She stood up and said, "Okay!"

Carlo said, "Excellent." He stood up, and the beautiful sister did too; Carlo walked behind her, holding up her coat for her and putting it on her body. Barbra caught herself wishing men at home were this attentive and polite. Not to mention absurdly handsome. They walked out the door; in the glass reflection, as Barbra pushed it open ahead of the stylish pair, she saw the counter girl staring at the trio with an inscrutable expression.

They walked across the street and into the cemetery; Barbra was afraid it might be creepy, but instead it was oddly touching and compelling; people sat and stood by graves, cupping candles and speaking softly; far from being the raucous, spirit-scaring experience back home, it was respectful even worshipful. It wasn't a party, or morbid in the least; it was like being in a church. Carlo touched her arm, indicating a direction. They walked past people huddled together, young, old, children; it was amazing and beautiful. Barbra felt lucky to be having this experience. Carlo walked them to a large monument and produced a candle from his pocket.

When he lit it with a wooden match Barbra could see the name on the monument: Carlo Giovanni, dated in the 1700s. These Europeans, she thought, always continuing names. The Carlo she had just met was probably the umpteenth Carlo of the Giovannis. Carlo set the candle down, cupping the flame, murmuring words that, Barbra realized, were definitely not the local language, and were most certainly not Italian. It was a unique sound, and she focused on the candle, listening to the words, and lost her train of thought.

Time passed as she watched the point of light, the center pulsating. It fascinated her, and she could hear Carlo speaking, murmuring softly, mesmerizing her. She stared at the candle, transfixed.

The candle flickered, then in her vision inflated into a glowing ball; it receded into a tiny point, then became a round window of sorts, and Barbra walked to that window. Carlo's voice guided her. The window became a doorway, and she walked through into a room, a glowing room, candles ringing the perimeter. It was warm and gorgeous, romantic and ancient. Barbra looked around.

She was not in the cemetery.

She really was in a room ringed with candles, and Carlo was standing in front of her in his coat, silhouetted in the glow. Behind him was a white double bed. He smiled, and this time his teeth shined in the orange, warm glow, and there was something different about him, something predatory. Barbra shivered and tried to turn; she found with alarm she couldn't move her body; but she could move her head, and behind her the pale woman was removing her coat. Barbra watched, fascinated, as the woman dropped her coat and slipped out of her luxurious shoes. She smoothed the black dress and approached Barbra with a grim smile on her lips.

The woman stepped to Barbra and, with unexpected force, threw her past Carlo onto the white bed. Barbra landed hard on her back, the bed cushioning her from injury, and as she landed the pale woman grabbed her and literally ripped her clothing off, right down to her very un-stylish underwear,which she yanked down off her legs. Barbra willed herself to struggle but absolutely couldn't. Her body wouldn't respond, and she was very quickly stark naked, laying on the bed. The woman slapped her legs apart and rested one knee next to her waist. She put one palm on Barbra's crotch, cupping her with a firm hand, rubbing gently. Barbra felt blood moving in her body in response. The beautiful woman was looking down at her body with a lustful expression. She reached down and grabbed a fistful of Barbra's hair and forced her head back, baring her throat and leaning over her. She smelled luscious and earthy, a giddy scent that filled the room.

Carlo said something and the woman stopped. It was a warning of some kind, the tone said so, and Barbra felt the woman's grasp relax. The woman said something in the same language, and the two had a short conversation. Barbra looked past the woman at Carlo, and she could see him undressing. His lower body was in shadow, but when his shirt came off he revealed a muscular chest with salt and pepper chest hair. He looked powerful and vital. He lifted his head and looked at Barbra, and his look fixed her in place, sprawled on the bed with her legs spread, opened up and exposed. She had a jolt of actual panic through her confusion; she was proud of herself for being clear headed and resourceful, but this was something totally different.

Carlo said, in English, "Don't worry. You are not..." he paused, apparently thinking, "...in danger." He smiled again, and the expression crossed the line from human to animal.

Carlo walked to Barbra and stepped to the foot of the bed, running a strong hand on her belly and lower body. He moved up and kissed her mouth, and the act triggered a response in Barbra that let her move. She kicked out and tried to turn over to gain purchase on the bed, but Carlo simply laughed and gripped her ankles, holding her down. She tried to fight him off, but Carlo wouldn't let her move; she decided to look at him to plead to him, but when she met his eyes she knew it wouldn't work: his eyes had become dark and menacing, crude and animalistic. He wasn't a man anymore; he had become a thing, something not human. Barbra turned her head to look at the sister.

The pale woman watched them, blue eyes gleaming in the candle's light. She stood motionless, hands at her sides, fingers extended. Barbra looked down the woman's long, tapered fingers and saw sharpened points protruding inches from the very tips of the fingers. She was baffled at how she'd failed to notice the woman's nails. The woman tipped her head back, still looking at the two bodies below her, and the low light made her towering. Hortense watched as the woman opened her mouth, and was appalled to see how she did it: she kept her lower jaw set in place, instead tilting her head back revealing canine teeth. Barbra frantically thought the woman couldn't be what she looked like. Carlo moved at her feet, and to distract herself from the woman standing over her Barbra turned her head to him. She immediately wished she hadn't. The man was naked, pale torso turned a lurid reddish orange in the flickering glow, and his hair was down. He looked animalistic and predatory. She tried to look at his lower torso, hoping for a glimpse of that most human of male features, but the bed clothes blocked her view and she saw nothing but a black, undulating form. His hands had changed somehow, although she knew they were the same, and instead of seeming artistic and delicate they were claw like and grasping, with tips so sharp she could see them flashing in the light, like the edge of a blade. He reached one of them out over her body, and she flinched. She said, "Carlo?" in a tentative and, she knew, weak voice. She wasn't in full control of herself at all. She shook her head and closed her eyes for a second or two, hoping when she opened them the situation was changed, but when she raised her eyelids the scene had gotten worse. The pale woman was taking her clothes off. Barbra watched, nearly distracted, and had to admit the woman was absolutely, stunningly beautiful, with a slender, sensuous form and a sickeningly perfect body, firm and tight, with breasts that stood out in shapes of perfection. Her skin was flawless and clear, and so pale it was probably a cream color, but now was suffused with the same orange glow as Carlo's body. The woman slipped the straps of her black dress off her shoulders and simply dropped the garment to the floor. She was wearing a tiny black string bottom, which she didn't touch, but she moved her hands over her body, sliding long, razor-like nails on her thighs and hips. As she moved her motions changed from human to something approaching a writhing snake. When the woman looked down again, Barbra froze and couldn't move. She felt if she moved it would trigger an attack, like an encounter with a vicious animal, when her best option was to stay very still.

It didn't work. Barbra felt Carlo grasp her ankles and pull her body out straight; when she slid down the sheets her hands flew out in a reflex, and she almost panicked, feeling like she was being pulled off a cliff, or into a bottomless hole with no hope of escape. One of Carlo's hands wrapped around both her ankles, pinning them together, and after a momentary shock of anticipation the other landed on Barbra's hip, digging in and holding her lower body immobile. She tried to kick but couldn't, completely restrained, and when she tried to bend her upper body down to reach her arms at, or perhaps to, Carlo, her chin came down to her chest and the pale woman was on her. A claw slammed down and gripped her neck, another wrapped in her hair and yanked her head back, and for the first time Barbra screamed.

She screamed as loud as she could, shrieking and shouting in wordless fear, until her chest heaved and her breath was exhausted. The two people, or things, simply watched her, smiling mildly, until she gave up. Barbra laid face up, held in place by a combination of terror and muscular restraint. Carlo held her legs, and the pale woman had one claw-like hand on the back of her head. Barbra knew her arms were free, but was too afraid of what the two might do to her if she fought to use them. She tried to control her breathing, but couldn't help panting in fear. She felt humiliated, embarrassed, and afraid, and the emotions made her unable to think clearly.

The pale woman lowered her finely shaped face to hers, leaning down, and openly breathed in her face, smirking with an open mouth and revealing those bizarre and unnerving teeth. The smell from the woman's body was salty and deep, and Barbra turned her head away as best she could with the woman's hand on her. Then the woman knelt on the bed, still holding Barbra in place, and placed a hand on her belly.

Barbra felt a slight dragging on her skin, a very slight twinge of burn, and wasn't sure what was happening, until she felt tiny, hot droplets emerging from her flesh. She twisted her head, fighting against the hand, and when she saw what was happening she came apart, struggling.

The woman had a single, razor-sharp fingernail or claw extended and was cutting her, touching the skin and penetrating just enough to draw dark blood.

Carlo was at her lower body, between her legs, and she couldn't see his lower body; when she tilted her head down to attempt it the pale woman grabbed her hair and slammed her head into the pillow. Barbra gasped from shock at the treatment, and tried to think, but couldn't. Warm trickles crawled down her sides, tickling her skin. Carlo bent over her, smelling deep, raw, and animalistic. He lowered his face to her belly and flicked his tongue on her body, licking up the warm drips. Barbra squirmed in a fervor of discomfort and near panic. Carlo laughed, and raised his head, licking his lips.

He locked eyes with Barbra, and again he looked reptilian and hypnotic. Barbra found herself getting weak and warm, losing her entire range of thoughts and abilities. She went very nearly blank, and stopped squirming. As she did the pale woman reached a hand over and traced a deliberate design on her left breast. She felt a slight touch around her nipple, but couldn't see what was really going on: she was locked on Carlo's snakelike eyes.

The pale woman moved her hand and duplicated the motion on her right breast, and this time Barbra glanced down and saw the blood. The woman was cutting her breasts with an extended, razor sharp fingernail. Blood trickled across her heaving chest, and she lost it again, and freaked out.

She screamed as loud as she could, fighting and writhing, until the two people things restrained her with terrifyingly powerful claws. Carlo held her firmly by the waist while the pale woman clamped her wrists together, and as Barbra watched in horror Carlo licked every speck of blood off her breasts.

As he did it his color changed, and he became more human, the blood somehow filling his body and making him glow. Barbra watched, fascinated, and this time when she glanced down Carlo raised up on his knees and she saw his penis rise up, grow hard and firm, and begin gently pulsing. The blood trickled out of her bared breasts and Carlo licked her again, gently but hungrily, and Barbra caught herself becoming internally hot.

She looked at Carlo's cock, watching it grow, knowing that what she was giving to him was making it happen. He met her eyes with his, and she felt him somehow flowing into her; she wanted him inside her body. She felt her body squirm, then relax, as the woman thing touched her. She waited, feeling the intense burning on her skin, watching Carlo's hypnotic eyes shine.

When the pale woman reached a claw to her chest again Barbra didn't move. She watched the point enter the very surface of her delicate, vulnerable skin, and this time the woman bent over, eyes shining with hunger and lust. The woman carefully and intently traced a complex design around both her nipples, then as Carlo bent over to lick up the emerging blood from one pointed nipple the woman chose the other. Barbra found herself being kissed and licked on her breasts by two people, a man and a woman, and the sensation was exquisite, if frightening.

When the woman raised up, she had blood on her lips. Barbra tipped her head back, watching, and as the pale woman grew less pale, she tried to raise her head, straining to the woman. The female person thing accommodated Barbra and bent down to kiss her on the mouth; she tasted the salt and rich flavor of her own blood. She closed her eyes and laid back, splaying her arms out and spreading her legs.

Carlo nestled between her thighs and hovered over Barbra, smiling softly. He opened his mouth and his teeth gleamed in the candle light. He cupped a breast, rubbed and circled gently, and when he lifted his hand it was coated with blood. He presented it to the woman thing, and she very carefully licked every bit off his palm, then sucked each of Carlo's fingers clean.