Almost Human

[Freyja]

Recently, the sunlight had taken less of its toll upon the Danish woman’s flesh, the stronger she became, the more adept she had become at her powers, the more she found herself capable of withstanding its horrifically devastating radiation. She had returned, recently, to basking in the warm, bright rays of light that she had missed so dearly. She hadn’t spoken on it too much, because the thought of never enjoying a nice bask in the sun had all but physically hurt the blonde woman, but she had still been trying to figure out how she was supposed to last eternity without ever stepping foot in the sunlight again. She just didn’t know if she could do it.

She had been so terribly pleased to learn that she didn’t have to.

She lay in silence, listening to the soft, easy snoring of the other blonde laid out lazily on the lounge chair beside her. The human hadn’t missed a beat in her tanning, and had made Freya so jealous she was like to scream. Now, though, the two of them lie side by side in the sun, the cool winter air wafting over the balcony’s railing and only lightly tingling across their skin. Freyja wore nothing, her entire body bared to the elements as she worked on an entirely fresh tan, her skin, while not as pale as it had been months ago, still had a pallid, dead sort of color to it.

If she was going to blend, she was going to need to really work on at least looking alive. She turned herself over in her chair, lying on her back now as Bambi continued to snore with her face half buried into her chair. She wouldn’t doubt that the poor thing would sleep there all day, turning red as a lobster by sundown. She wouldn’t let that happen to her, of course, her intense hibernation mostly, or entirely, the vampire’s fault for keeping her up most nights to cater to her needs. As she leaned back into her chair, she flipped the page in her book, the soft rustle of paper the only sound beyond the soft breathing of the woman beside her.

She enjoyed this, really, more than she would have thought. Having something so simple, so small, taken away from her even for just a little while had been almost unbearable. It had driven her half mad, having to dash inside at the first sight of daylight, running away from the sun. She still remembered the first morning she had refused to cower from something so sweet as the warmth of the sun. Her skin still crawled with the nerves that had been scorched. Her flesh had been a red, raw ruin of absolute agony. Everything had hurt that night, and she didn’t so much as have the desire to lift her hands, much less fight for her food.

That had been before she had learned to manipulate the will of the less wary humans; the unsuspecting or the willing. Now, however, she didn’t have to worry about fending for herself anymore. The woman beside her was always willing, and was always readily available, no matter the time, or what she might have been doing. Sometimes, she might feel guilty about calling her away from some date or another because she was hungry, but it couldn’t be helped. Her progeny’s own thrall had solved that little problem for her.

She was glad, honestly, that Bambi could be with someone that could know the truth. The girl deserved to be happy with someone; Someone that didn’t have a supernatural control of her will. That was always a tricky area that the Dane shied away from. Particularly after what had happened to Nine, and the way she had lost herself so completely at her death.

The memory served to dampen her mood significantly, her fingers flicking the page of her book again as she gave a quiet sigh. It was already midmorning, her eyes heavy with weariness as she fought to keep herself awake. She dog eared the page before shutting the book and reached over to give Bambi a gentle shake, her slender form stirring with the touch. “Up, girl. You’re like to fry out here. You can sleep on the couch; I think I’m going to crash.” She stood, peeling her teal towel from her seat and wrapping it neatly around her naked figure, fastening it neatly beneath her arm before she collected her book and swept back into the apartment.

She didn’t make it half a dozen steps before she all but collapsed face first into the long, wide sectional. She felt the velvet cushions pressing into her face and she nuzzled the soft, dark fabric with a wide, pleased smile. She could still feel the heat of the sun radiating from her skin, the slick sheen of the oil wiped clean from the linen of the towel. She managed to lift a hand, pushing the thick mop of golden curls from her face as she wriggled into the corner of the sectional, her favorite place in the living room, and let the wrap-around caress the curve of her back as she snatched one of the plush pillows, stuffing it beneath her cheek.

The apartment was bright, the sun blaring through the glass door to the balcony, the rays of light dancing across the hardwood and causing a lazy warmth to spread through the entire room. She yawned, her hand lifting to hide her face as Bambi followed her inside, still wearing her bikini and the bottle of oil in her hand. “Sleep sounds so sweet.” She murmured, and moved to settle herself neatly on the longer section of the couch, her brow nearly pressed to the top of Freyja’s head. They lie there for a moment, on the verge of talking about the things that they needed to do; about classes, homework, practice, about teachers, and girls, about hunting, and about the feeding.

They needed to talk about the feeding.

Freyja was getting wounded often lately. Her prey had more teeth than before, were better prepared for her when she came calling. The bleeding left her hungrier than the nights before, and Bambi was like to be hurt, if she was the only one that her master fed from, so she had taken to hunting strangers again, in the hopes of letting her heal between her bouts of intense hunger. She could tell that she was uncomfortable with not being the only one, that she was worried about the both of them. She just needed some reassurance, that was all. Freyja had that in spades. She had been handing it out like it was candy lately, and she had plenty more to give.

The Danish vampire was confident and carefree a vast majority of the time. She didn’t worry at all about feeding from the strangers, and she knew that Bambi shouldn’t worry either. They were safe. She tipped her head to say something to the woman, or perhaps she had dreamed that she had moved, because she remembered nothing as the warmth of the sun, the soft, velvety caress of the couch, and Bambi’s renewed snores all worked at lulling her back into sleep. She was unconscious before she could think to text her childe about the club location that night. She would have to set it up herself.

[Freyja]

When she woke, the tall Amazon was splayed across the soft rug in the middle of her living room floor, naked as the day she was born. The sun had set, the white light of the moon shining through the huge window of her apartment and framing the heavy curtains that hid the world from view in a pale, white glow. She yawned, and pulled herself into a seated position, her foot falling off the couch with a thud. She lifted a hand, rubbing at her eye as she looked around the large living area. The apartment was empty. Bambi was up and gone, and the lights were all off. Only the thin sliver of silvery light that crept through the curtain gave her world light.

A dream.

It was all just a fantastic, wonderful dream. Something I yearn for, like the drowning ache for air, or the blind lust for sight. I spent my whole life in the sun. I miss tanning. I miss sleeping in the warm light, or reading at the beach. I miss it so much, I feel like it hurts more without it, than it might to spend the day in the light. What I would give, for just one more day…

She gave another wide yawn, placing her palm over her lips as she shook her head, freeing herself from the fog of her dream. Her yearning, her desire, slowly faded with the realization of her reality; she was no longer a creature of daylight comforts. That was who she was, now, and forever more; no matter how much she might loathe it.

But does it have to be that way? I have been working on my power. I have gathered my strength. There isn’t anyone to say that I can’t try.

She yawned a third time as she resolved to test herself in the light come morning, if she was awake. She was finding it difficult to rouse herself from sleep, it seemed. The floor must have been terribly comfortable. Her eyes flitted over the room to rest on the clock mounted to the wall.

****, I overslept. I never put up the clue set for White Rabbit.
****.

She stretched, arching her back as she felt her spine pop in several places, earning a low, pleased groan from the blonde as she slowly lifted herself to her feet. She moved through the apartment, a pale ghost in the soft white light as she drifted to the fridge. The scent of coffee struck her as soon as she neared the bar, a smile gracing her face as she moved to where the Keurig finished brewing a tall espresso, the timer blinking a steady 00:00 into the darkness, filling the kitchen with a pulsing blue light. Sharp eyes found the note taped to the counter, just shy of where the mug set. It was a note.



Hey Frey,

Set your coffee to brew at nightfall, sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up. I have a date.
Hope you don’t mind, but I borrowed some clothes and that sexy pair of strappy heels I was talking to you about the other night. I won’t ruin them, stop worrying.

xoxo,
Bambi

She sighed, and couldn’t help but smile. She touched her cheek, where the ruin that the paladin’s stray bullet had torn away most of her face. She still didn’t understand how it hadn’t hurt to the extent that it looked like it would have hurt. She had been horrific to look at. That was the hardest part, really. Her looks were everything she had. The wound was gone now, healed in just a night, but the wound it left on her confidence wasn’t quite so quick to heal.

Sure. She had slaughtered paladins by droves in that church, and had walked away relatively unscathed, but in her mind she had walked away without a scratch. At least she had gotten out better than River. Poor thing was nearly filleted, her back opened up from shoulder to tailbone. It made the blonde grimace just to think about it. She pulled the steaming mug from beneath the machine and sipped at the bitter, piping hot glory of her ritualistic first mug. There were almost always more, but the first one was sacred. She carried the cup with her, moving to stand in front of the vanity mirror in the hall.

She couldn’t help looking at herself, fully expecting some kind of horrific transformation from the night before, or the night before that. She completely expected that the monster inside of her would become her sooner than she might think. Sharp, icy blue eyes scanned over her naked figure, inspecting each curve, every dimple, inventorying every last freckle that dusted her face and shoulders.

She was immaculate. Beautiful, rich, powerful, she was everything that she had ever aspired to be. It still wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t ever be enough. Lust and Greed. She was made of these things; she owned these things, and they really worked for her. What she really used to her advantage, though, was the wrath. The rage that always boiled in her chest, in the back of her throat, in the pit of her stomach. She was brimming with fury, and she could focus that energy, that anger, and make it into a weapon sharper than any blade; stronger than any bullet. What she had become was monstrous, for a certainty, but on the inside, she had always been a monster.

Though, a beautiful monster, just like her mother. Her mother, the real evil from which the whole damned family of degenerates and fucked up freaks had come from.

Stand up straight, Freyja.
Shoulders back, Freyja.
Chest out, Freyja.

You should talk less, and smile more. A girl is a beautiful thing; to be looked upon, but not heard.
You shouldn’t play with knives, Freyja. Those are a man’s toys.
You should be learning more about how to please a man than hurt him, Freyja.

The words bounced around in her skull as she looked herself over in the mirror, carefully. She had pleased her mother, with the way she had turned out. More beautiful than she could have hoped, and smart. Far smarter than she had been. And talented. What had thrown the woman off course, however, was when she had told her that she was gay. That took some adjusting, particularly after what their father had pulled on her, but she had learned to accept it. It was hard for her to believe, but all the same, she was her mother. Mothers are supposed to love you without condition, aren’t they?

Of course they are.

She reached up, tying her loose, golden curls tight behind her skull and turning to rummage through the hallway closet, the open door hiding her naked figure from the mirror as she leaned into the darkness of the closet to pull away a little black dress and a matching pair of heels. It never seemed to matter what color she was feeling that day, she always looked best in black.

At least, if you asked her, that was how she felt. Until she found someone whose opinion was enough to sway her own, she would be perfectly satisfied with simply pleasing herself. She smiled at her reflection this time, and plucked at the short hem of the dress as it brushed her thighs. Satisfied, she grabbed her clutch and her gun, tucking it into the tiny bag and dropped her keys on top of the pistol. Finally, she grabbed her phone, tapping at the screen. Quickly, she sent out texts to each of her businesses with the plans for the night, and gave the White Rabbit staff the night off. Her fault, missing the clues. She kicked herself for it in her head, and sent the texts as she slipped out the door, locking the apartment behind her as she texted Bambi.

COMPOSED TEXT
TO: BAMBI

Hey girl, hope you’re enjoying your date.
Thanks for the coffee, I owe you. Missed
the setup for WR though, real letdown.
Tell Elin I said hey, if you’ve got the time.
I know how busy she can keep your talking
bits. If you head back in the morning and
I’m not home, don’t worry. I’ll be back
sometime in the next couple of nights.
You’re in charge of WR. Don’t **** it up.

xoxo,
Freyja

[Freyja]

Down in the parking garage, the tall blonde walked alone through the dark silence, the only companion she kept was the echo of her heels clicking off the walls of the garage like the feet of a thousand supermodels marching across the smooth concrete. She smirked at the thought, debating on a bold business move of turning one of her clubs into a double for a modelling agency. Models were notorious users. Some of her biggest clients were models. She nodded to herself and made a mental note to check with the right people to test the viability of the idea.

She was in a good mood, in spite of missing an entire night’s profits from her most successful club. She flipped the keys to her car in her hand as she started to sway her hips to the beat of the song in her head, lips pressed lightly together as she hummed along to the music. She was lost inside of herself when a harsh scrape of the concrete jarred her from her revelry, her head turning sharply just in time to catch the heavy object across her face, instead of the back of her skull. Pain exploded through her face, blinding her in a white-hot moment of overload, her nerves in overdrive as she tried to make sense of what was going on.

She felt a fist drive into her gut and the air left her lungs in a rush, a low groan leaving her as her legs trembled, threatening to topple her to the concrete. She began to collapse, and the attacker took a fistful of her hair and snapped her head back, forcing her to stare up into the face of a woman that she could say, without doubt, that she had never seen before in her life. Her hands groped blindly across the concrete for her clutch. “What do you want?” she managed breathlessly, fighting against the shock of her lungs to speak as best as she could. The dark woman flicked a knife open and pressed the point against the blonde’s milky white throat.

Freyja swallowed, the motion digging the point of the blade into her flesh and freeing a single crimson droplet that slipped down the slender column of her neck to dip between her breasts. “Let me go.” She said quietly, her hands ceasing their search when she spied her clutch on the ground, behind the tire of another car. Her eyes snapped up to the woman as her lips, black as midnight, parted in a cruel smile over teeth white as pearls. “You didn’t let my momma go, you piece of ****, and the cops didn’t do a ******* thing to stop you. I guess that leaves it up to me to clean trash like you up out of our streets. You got anything to say before I put a new hole in you, you filthy skank?”

Freyja sighed, the expression sagging her elegant shoulders as she sank back to sit on her heels. This had to happen eventually. She could see, now, that the girl couldn’t be more than seventeen, her body still so young and her face so clean, so perfect. She frowned, then, and shook her head against the tight grip in her hair, dragging the razor sharp blade lightly across her throat, a thin line of red appearing in her skin. “Your mistake.” she snapped, before her hand lashed out, quick as lightning, and gripped the girl’s wrist. She turned the knife in her hand and jammed it as hard as she could between the ebony girl’s legs, a wail of agony piercing the stillness of the parking garage.

The girl collapsed as blood splashed down her thighs, her screams rising like a tide as she thrashed against the concrete. Freyja stood, straightening her hair as her poor victim gripped the knife jammed into her crotch, trying to pull it free but only managing to wail in pain as she abandoned the venture. “You ******* insane *****…” she screamed, and the tall blonde stepped on her throat. Blood gushed up from her lips as her neck snapped with an audible crack. The body continued to thrash, no longer under control of the brain as it flopped aimlessly like a dying fish. The woman leaned down, holding the girl’s chin as she stared into the lifeless brown eyes. “You don’t **** with me.” she snapped, before she grabbed her clutch and stood again, brushing off her dress and leaving the girl behind, the last sound before she slipped into her Jaguar was the scrape of the dying flail of her sneakers against the ground.

Tonight was off to a wonderful start.

[Freyja]

The space behind the Pixie Parlor was always a quiet, safe place to park her Jaguar XKR-S, her baby, but even so, she always kept extra security on hand in the back parking lot, something a little extra, in case her ‘baby’ ever was stolen, by chance. The thieves wouldn’t likely enjoy what they found. She tapped a button on her key fob, activating the traps that safeguarded the hundred and forty thousand dollar, two ton supercar. She smiled, secure in her own place of business as she stepped in through the back of the bar.

Of her establishments, this was the least flashy, the least upscale and sophisticated. This was a place for the lesbian women of Harper Rock, no matter their economical or social standings, to come and enjoy themselves in a less lewd environment than, say, Scarlet. It was a casual bar, fully stocked with anything from the cheap swill of Pabst Blue Ribbon, or Keystone, to the classy Diva vodka, or a particularly obscure and budget shatteringly expensive vintage of wines. There was a taste for anyone here, in the alcohol or in the women. It was a place to come without fear, to simply have a good time. Her security team here was top notch, the girls’ all trained in martial arts of one form or another, each of them an expert in their own rights. Any trouble that ever rose out of the Pixie Parlor was snuffed out quickly, and without mercy. She didn’t put as much hard work into the place to watch it mistreated by riffraff, though the riffraff was more than welcome to the bar, so long as they behaved themselves.

She didn’t come out here anywhere near often enough, she decided as she ran her hand along the rough brick walls of the interior, sharp, crisp eyes moving along each groove of the mortar where it joined the red brick, inspecting for cracks or grime. Her staff had taken impeccable care of the building, as well as her customers. She knew the latter easily, by the profits she raked in every night. The customers had, at one time, known her face, had seen her here nearly every night as she lived it up on the cheaper side of life, letting her hair down and relaxing with the common people. She had set all of that aside some time ago, and had reascended to her high society life. A part of her missed the more simple style of the bar, the carefree way she used to just join the party here, instead of having to be so careful among the hundreds of eyes in her new places. She was never used to being so careful. It just wasn’t her.

She lifted her hands and pulled at the tie that kept her hair up, letting it fall in golden blonde waves down her shoulders, soft, lazy curls shimmering in the dim light of the backroom of the bar as she took a slow and even breath. This was her bar. Why was she so nervous? She shook her head and laughed lightly at herself. It had to be that girl from the garage. She must’ve gotten to the Danish woman more than she had originally thought. She smiled to herself and finally pushed through the back room to the space behind the bar, where her ladies were tending. When the door opened, both heads snapped around, surprised at the sound of the screaming hinges when no one should have been in back. She saw Erika already holding the shotgun beneath the bar in her hands as she was still leaned across the counter, a rag in her hand. Shana was ready to break the glass in her hand and stab the intruder with the shards, her hand still poised over the counter’s edge with the glass tight in her white-knuckled grip. These girls were so easily terrified, but clearly, they were ready to **** someone up for coming in through the back. These girls had seen exactly what she was here for.

Freyja gave each of them a wide, disarming smile that reached her sparkling blue eyes, the freckled cheeks rising with the expression as she lifted her hands in surrender. “Girls, girls, it’s just me. I should have called ahead, I’m sorry.” She laughed lightly as the both of them physically relaxed, Shana nearly melting into the floor as the vampire pushed her way behind the bar and shut the door behind her with another scream of the hinges. She watched as the both of them set back to work, finishing what they were about before they turned to her and attacked her in a hug. The both of them shorter than her, she rested her chin in the crease between their heads as she hugged them in kind, smiling. She had missed this, the intimacy of her staff here. Why had she ever distanced herself from the Parlor? It had always been so much fun here, so light and easy, and she rarely had to worry about upsetting some straight girl’s boyfriend.

She laughed, and stepped back, keeping a hand on either of their shoulders as she looked from the dark, expressive browns of Erika’s eyes, to the sharp and critical green of Shana’s. “How have you girls been? I’ve heard some unsettling things about my little bar. I wanted to come down and see that you two were okay, that you didn’t need anything.” Erika lifted a hand to push her limp, honey-blonde hair over her shoulder as she parted her lips to speak, but Shana jumped in before her, dark, chocolate lips flicking with quick and expressive motions as she spoke. “There’s been some things going on, Frey. Things we don’t… really think we can explain, okay? ****’s got Erika ready to quit, and the bouncer meatheads you have all around the bar are all but useless. They haven’t seen a thing, and if you ask the Queen Meathead, she’ll tell you there’s nothing on the camera. That’s all we’ll get out of her. But there’s something going on, there is, or we’re both going crazy. I don’t know. I just don’t. But thank god you’re here.”

The tall blonde shh’ed her gently, leaning down and pushing a kiss to the silky, ebony flesh of her brow. She tenderly stroked her dark, shimmering ringlets of ebony hair as she hugged the woman individually, squeezing her tightly. She’d been brave to stick around. They both had. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m here to take care of it. Let me talk to security and I’ll see about what’s going on.” She turned, then, and hugged Erika, with a kiss to her cheek, before she set them back to work with the small clutch of customers that had gathered around the bar. She smiled, watching them work for a brief moment before she turned and made her way to the stairs up to the security and administration offices. She’d need to see these tapes for herself, see if she couldn’t figure out exactly what was going down in her bar.

She had a bad feeling that someone was going to need to pay.