Earth, Sun, and Moon Saga Ch. 07

Then joined in the fray.

Lenore watched him keenly. He was a decently big guy compared to a lot of the rest of the crowd; tall, broad-shouldered, and fit, and he danced into the pit like a damn wrecking ball.

The song playing had a fast breakdown with thick, meaty power chords and James tossed himself around, seemingly losing control. But she didn't have to watch too closely to see that, no he hadn't. He was very aware of himself and those around him, spinning around some and bouncing off others, he kept his elbows tucked to avoid smashing them against faces. Despite outward appearances, mosh pits were pretty safe, as the participants generally looked out for one another.

The song ended and James trudged out, slapping the back of one of the other moshers as he left.

"Have fun?" Lenore asked, not doing much to hide her amusement.

James let out a huff. "Oh yeah, it makes me feel young again." He made a show of stretching. "Hard to keep up with these whippersnappers these days."

"Tell me about it."

"Say, do you need another beer?"

Lenore looked down at her empty can. "I could go for something stronger."

"Well they have—oh, I see . . ." James looked around. "What do you normally do when you get . . . thirsty?"

"I go hunting. Usually, drunk guys pick me up at bars. Or metal shows."

James looked around. "This place must be an all-you-can-eat buffet for you. Anyone in particular?"

"I'm looking at him."

"Cute. Ever hear the human expression, 'Don't shit where you eat?'"

"I do neither of those things."

"Yeah, well, it means you don't mix business and pleasure."

"James, dear, last night you came inside of me while holding a stake to my chest. I think we're a bit past that."

James shrugged. "You're cute but I'm not your food. Tell you what, you point out the guy and I'll help you lure him to quench your demonic appetite. As long as you don't, you know, kill him."

She laughed without meaning to. "You think I need help luring my dinner?"

Another shrug. "We are supposed to be working together."

Lenore thought about it. "Alright. I'll play. But let's make it interesting. You pick. If you're able to lure them, great. If not, it's up to you to . . . satisfy me." She looked him up and down like the bag of blood he was, hoping to make him squirm, at least a little. He grinned at her instead.

"Where will you take them?"

"There's a private room back around the stage. It used to be a sort of holding area for the bands before they went on stage. I used to . . . invite guests back there all the time."

"Won't it be guarded by a bouncer?"

"Leave that part to me."

"Okay. You're on."

He scanned the crowd for her victim. It was the normal mix of metalheads and punks that was there even thirty years ago. Mostly, it was a combination of students and diehards. The casual and the hardcore.

"Got one," he said, finally, unable to help from grinning.

He pointed to the bar. A neon-haired girl tipped back a shot of something bronze and fist-bumped the bartender. She pushed blue hair out of her face revealing a nose ring and lip piercing. She was cute, even pretty, in that scene girl kind of way, and was dressed in her best 'look at me, I'm metal as fuck' outfit consisting of a cut-up HIM shirt, torn black jeans, and thick leather bracelets that looked similar to the restraints they used to use on people in asylums.

"You're kidding," Lenore said. "You've got no chance. I'm not even sure she plays for your team."

James shrugged, "Then I won't be long."

She watched him cross the bar, making his approach. She quickly lost sight of him due to the density of the crowd.

James was handsome, even she had to admit that. But in his jeans and simple black t-shirt, he was fairly out of place. There was no way.

He was gone for five whole minutes.

And when he returned, the neon-haired girl was next to him, staring at her.

"Holy shit, that's her?" she asked, mouth agape.

"Told you," James said. "So are you down?"

The neon-haired girl looked Lenore up and down like she was on the menu.

"Fuck yeah."

"Awesome," James said, winking at Lenore. "Liz, this is Angelica."

"How fitting," Lenore said, dryly. She was trying to hide her astonishment.

"So, you're like, the Liz Luna?" Angelica couldn't hide her awe.

Lenore glared at James. "What did you tell her?"

"I simply struck up a conversation. Asked her if she had ever heard of Blood Magic. It just so turns out, it's one of her favorite bands."

"How . . ." she began. Angelica was too young to have seen Blood Magic live. Sure, they'd put out an album but it wasn't widely distributed. At least, she thought it wasn't.

Angelica, naive to her confusion, continued to fangirl. "I just have to say, that your song Barbwire Bliss spoke to my fucking soul. I've probably listened to it a thousand times."

". . . Thank you." Lenore was frankly stunned. "I didn't think copies of our album even existed anymore."

Angelica smiled broadly. "Well, I don't know about that. I found you on Spotify."

"I see."

"And, you know, if you love a genre, you have to go to the source, right? You basically invented love metal. It would be an honor for you to feed on me."

"For me to what?" Lenore turned to James. "What did you tell her?"

"The truth," James replied with a grin.

Sensing Lenore's displeasure, Angelica jumped in. "No, it's totally cool. I get wanting to be all hush-hush about it. Got to be careful with your kinks and all that. But I'm totally down. Promise."

Lenore looked the girl up and down. She was in her early twenties, bright-eyed, and painfully earnest despite her gothy appearance. Her heart was also going rabbit-fast in her chest, unmistakable even with the music playing.

Lenore held out her hand.

Angelica took it.

She winked at James. "Be right back."

She left him and his silly grin and led Angelica through the crowd. She took her through an unlocked door near the bathrooms and then down the hallway that wrapped around the back of the stage. A few people were milling about; friends of the bands, a barback moving kegs, and more than one obvious drug dealer, but none of them paid her any mind. Going unnoticed, especially when she wished it, was part of her power. She thought of it as her shroud and, though it didn't make her invisible, it helped her fade into the background.

She ducked into the private room and, as she expected, it was unoccupied because the band was still playing. The simple lounge contained a couple of beat-up couches, a scratched coffee table, and a catering table holding a few bags of chips and cans of cheap beer.

Lenore locked the door behind her. "Wouldn't want to be interrupted."

"Yeah," Angelica said simply.

"So, little girl, what exactly did you mean by me feeding on you?"

"Oh, um," Angelica sputtered. "Like, drinking blood was your thing, right? That you were a 'vampire'? You're more infamous than Ozzy in this scene. Drinking blood on stage? Fucking wild. Or did you give that up?"

"Oh, no. That's still my thing."

"Well, I just want you to know that I'm clean. No Hep A or C. Normally, I don't let anyone drink my blood until we've been dating for at least a month but your fucking Liz Luna."

"You're adorable," Lenore said. "But I believe you're mistaken."

"What do you mean?"

"Tonight, Liz Luna is fucking you."

Lenore pulled the goth girl in and kissed her deeply on the lips, feeling her first go rigid, and then relax into surrender.

When they parted, Angelica said, "I've never been with an older woman."

"You're in for a treat then."

Lenore pulled the young girl to one of the sofas.

"I have a razor blade in my wallet you can use," she said, breathlessly.

"That won't be necessary."

Lenore pushed Angelica into the sofa and kissed her. Her desire to feed, low at first, became ever louder. She vaguely remembered what human hunger felt like—she'd grown up half-starved—but as a vampire, her hunger was close to compulsion. While she could go a long time without feeding, that was only achieved after centuries of mastering herself and those impulses.

Still, the desire to rip open this girl's throat and bathe in her blood was strong.

She kissed down her neck instead, letting her fangs extend.

She palmed the goth girl's small tits through her shirt but worked lower. Angelica wore black jeans and Converse sneakers as was still tradition. Lenore undid her studded belt and pulled her pants down to her ankles, being careful not to just rip them off, and eliciting a squeak from her prey. She popped her shoes off so she could fully remove her pants.

"Oh my god," Angelica moaned. "I can't believe Liz fucking Luna is going to eat me out. You move fast, huh?"

Lenore smiled up at the girl, clearly showing her fangs. "I just know my own taste. And, honey, you're delicious."

Angelica gaped at her but before she could respond, Lenore buried her face between her legs.

A few centuries of practice made Lenore a master in a multitude of things. Giving head was one of them. Angelica moaned louder, in shocked surprise. Lenore knew right then she was having trouble processing what she'd just seen. Stories about her kind were older than she was and persisted well into the modern era and while Lenore didn't make a habit of revealing herself, sometimes it was fun to fuck with humans. She found that no matter how obvious she was, most people couldn't believe their own eyes.

They couldn't believe they'd just encountered a vampire. Even if that vampire was currently licking their pussy.

Lenore pulled the fabric of her panties aside and licked the delicious folds of Angelica's cunt. The poor girl's whole body shuddered in response. It wasn't fair really.

When she felt she was primed, Lenore inserted one finger and then two into Angelica's sopping pussy. This had the immediate effect of driving her wild, ever closer to orgasm, but the other effect was freeing Lenore's mouth.

In humans, the femoral artery begins at the bifurcation of the descending aorta in the pelvis. The aorta splits into two branches, each providing blood flow down the legs. Its counterpart, laying much closer to the surface, is the great saphenous vein which returns blood to the heart.

It was Lenore's favorite.

Lenore ran her tongue over the interior of Angelica's thigh. Feeling. Sensing. Her fingers worked automatically, pushing her prey's pleasure forward, while she felt for the heat just below the surface.

When she was over her mark, she sank her fangs in.

"Holy fuck!" Angelica cried out, clearly feeling her. "Are you for real?"

It was more of a statement than a question.

Lenore looked up at her prey without stopping, drinking her in. With her fingers, she rubbed the girl's G-spot.

Angelica's first orgasm hit her like a sledgehammer. She covered her mouth to stifle her sudden scream and tilted her head back to the ceiling.

Lenore held her leg still while the other spasmed in pleasure. She was trying to stay quiet but instead let out a series of short, punctuated squeaks.

"Ee! Ee! Ee!" she cried, before biting down on her own finger.

Lenore fed through the orgasm, listening closely to the sound of her heart as it sped up, not in response to the orgasm but to the loss of blood.

She considered draining the girl completely. That would be so easy. But she stopped herself. Angelica was cute and earnest. And, besides, she was a fan.

Should she recount her lesbian experience with Liz Luna it's doubtful anyone would seriously believe her.

She stopped after drinking a liter. It was enough to satisfy her without being gluttonous about it.

Lenore released her leg, licking the bite marks as she did. In a few moments, enzymes in her saliva would seal the wound. In a day or two, there wouldn't even be a mark.

"Holy shit," Angelica said, gasping. "You're like the real fucking deal, huh?"

Lenore smiled at her, fangs still extended. "Real enough."

Angelica was clearly scared, but her arousal and interest were stronger. "Are you going to kill me?"

"Why? Tired of make-believe?"

Before the girl could answer, Lenore licked her folds, slipping her tongue into her opening, and eliciting another squeak from the girl.

Lenore didn't get much opportunity to reveal herself and her nature to people unless she was immediately going to kill them, so she was leaning into the role a bit, enjoying herself.

She slipped a hand up and wrapped it around the goth girl's slender throat, squeezing gently but firmly, letting her know exactly who was in charge.

Unlike men, where draining a good bit of blood often made them flaccid, women often responded in the opposite. A drop in blood pressure and a bit of dizziness combined to increase their arousal.

Angelica melted under her.

She moaned something through the choking.

"What was that, dear?" Lenore asked, loosening her grip for a moment.

"Harder, please."

"Oh, how brave you are!" Lenore obliged her and squeezed as hard as she dared without either collapsing her trachea or breaking her neck.

She returned to eating the girl out and slipped two fingers back in for the assist. Angelica convulsed under her in pleasure. Just when it seemed she would pass out, Lenore loosened her grip, allowing blood to drain from her head and keep her conscious. Then she tightened it again. She repeated this several times, coxing orgasm after orgasm from the poor girl in waves.

When she finally relented, Angelica could barely open her eyes.

Because leaving a naked woman in the backstage at a metal venue was poor form, Lenore assisted the girl in getting her pants back on. "Let this be our little secret, yes?"

Angelica nodded through her post-orgasmic daze. "I won't tell anyone."

"Oh, I don't mind you telling people about our sex. But we vampires are rather secretive. And I can count on one hand how many people know about me and are still living. Catch my drift?"

Angelica nodded again, readjusting her outfit. "Totally understand. But, hey, can I have your number?"

Lenore laughed. "No, but I'll take yours. It can be hard to find a reliable late-night snack."

***

Lenore found James outside by a food truck, eating a gyro.

"How was dinner?" he asked.

"Kinky. Yours?"

He ate the last bite and threw the wrapper in a nearby trash can. "Adequate."

"It seems you won our little wager. How did you know she'd be so . . . open?"

"Eh, luck mostly. Believe it or not, I'd heard of your band before. I think I even had your album in high school. When I saw her with the HIM shirt and piercings, I figured there was a decent chance she'd at least heard of you too. Also, and I'm not sure if you've noticed, but girls have gotten a lot kinkier recently."

"Oh, I've noticed."

"So what did I win?"

"Another day of not being on my meal plan."

"Good thing I won then."

"So, what now? Got anything else planned on this date?"

As soon as she said it, she regretted it. She had been thinking it. She knew he'd been thinking it. But saying it out loud made it real.

"This is a date, huh?" His smirk was back and just as aggravating. He probably thought he was charming with that damn smile.

"No . . . I don't know," she sputtered. She was flustered and didn't understand why. "Maybe."

"What do vampires do on maybe dates?"

"I don't know. The usual."

"The usual?"

"You know, long secluded walks through the graveyard. Craft blood tastings. Coffin shopping."

James laughed. "Not sure I can compete with your previous boyfriends."

Lenore rolled her eyes. "This fucking century with its casual relationships . . . I don't have boyfriends. I would have paramours if anything. But there hasn't been anyone in a long time."

"Not since London?"

She nodded.

"Alright. How about we go back in and finish the show?"

"I have a better idea. How about you take me back to your place."

***

James' house was relatively close.

He parked the Tacoma in front of a small, charming craftsman that, if Seattle's real estate market was to be believed, was wildly overvalued.

He walked through the front door but it took him a moment to realize she didn't follow him.

"You alright?" he asked.

"You have to invite me in."

"Is that another vampire rule?"

"Yeah."

"I have garlic here too. Does that affect you?"

"Not even a little bit."

"Mirrors?"

"I have a reflection."

"Are you sure you even want to come in? A human lives here. I hear they're not to be trusted."

Lenore narrowed her eyes at him. "Some might be better than others."

James held the front door open for her, "Come on in, creature of the night."

Lenore entered.

His house was a simple, albeit remodeled, turn-of-the-century build with three bedrooms and two bathrooms. It was clear he kept a tidy home despite a few dirty plates in the sink and stray articles of clothing draped over chairs and the sofa.

The kitchen table was clear except for a bone-white envelope in the center.

James swiped it up as soon as he entered the kitchen. She watched him shove the envelope between a stack of mail on the counter.

"You live here alone?" Lenore asked.

"I do now. Girlfriend moved out not too long ago."

"Serious?"

"She was no paramour if that's what you mean."

James set his backpack down by the kitchen table and began immediately straightening up.

"Sorry about the mess," he muttered. "I wasn't expecting company."

Lenore couldn't have cared less. She wandered further inside, looking at photographs on the walls. A young sandy-haired James at the beach with his parents. Another of his parents, his mother hugging his father with one foot kicked back, looking happy. More photographs of James, these with him in a military uniform, posing next to helicopters, or with other young men in the same uniform.

"You're a soldier," Lenore said. Several questions she had about him suddenly clicked into place: his devil-may-care attitude, and his fearlessness, now made sense. He was a warrior. A fighter. But that wasn't all. There was something else.

"Well, I was in the Air Force," he said from the kitchen.

"Were you a pilot?"

"No. I was Pararescue. They called us PJs."

"Rescue?"

"Yeah. We'd go in and extract other Special Operations teams. Often they were wounded and usually it was during active encounters."

"It was dangerous?"

James laughed. "Yeah. Although, at the time I just thought it was cool."

"You don't like talking about it?"

He shrugged, clearly acting as though it didn't bother him. "There's not much to say. That part of my life is over."

A lie by omission, she suspected. But that was alright. Let him keep his secrets.

A placard hung over a picture of James and four other young men, all of them decked out in military gear, including rifles. The placard was of an angel embracing the world in her arms. Under was a banner that read, "THAT OTHERS MAY LIVE."

So a warrior, she thought, but not just a warrior. He was a savior of warriors.

A protector.

Lenore turned to confront him. "What brought you to our island? It wasn't soil studies or whatever you told Gwen. And I saw you try and hide that letter. What was that?" Lenore felt her voice turn pleading. "Please," she added. "I'm not trying to interrogate you, I just want to understand."

James let out a sigh. "I guess I already told her so I might as well tell you." He plucked the envelope out from where he'd hidden it. "This was my will. Or note. I left it here to be found by . . . whoever."

"You came to our island to kill yourself."

"I don't know. Probably. I just know that I felt numb. See, I was in the Air Force for two terms. That's twelve years. That's basically forever when you're just an eighteen-year-old punk fresh out of high school. When I left, I didn't know anything else. I moved here, bought this house, and puttered around. I went back to school to learn something different."