Path of the Vampire forum

Having lived in both New York and Los Angeles, Aaron Hunter was no stranger to the joys of shopping. Huge cities offered pretty much anything that money could buy, often without really needing to seek it out. From rainbow-coloured bootlaces to diamond rings that cost the same money as a small Central African country’s national debt, it was all there. Giant shopping malls filled with every chain store under the sun were liberally scattered throughout each district. Retail parks where burly men could buy building and gardening materials sat adjacent to boutique stores frequented by sophisticated ladies aiming to purchase $1,000 high heels.

The key word was “easy”. Put everything underneath one roof so that the consumer was spoiled for choice, and could easily drown in a sea of credit card convenience. Give the shoppers what they need; put it on the shelves to sell and they will buy.

Aaron thought that there was something a little soulless about the massive shops filled with a buyer’s buffet. The likes of Macy’s and Bloomingdale’s served a purpose, but they effectively catered for the masses, those people who didn’t have time to wander around the backstreets and discover small independent retailers dealing in niche products. Society seemed to be starved of time; every second was apparently so precious that items had to be handed over to the consumer instantly on a silver platter. The average person on the street no longer had neither the time nor the energy to go hunting for that perfect gift. They needed someone else to do it for them. If they wanted something, they wanted it now, with the minimum amount of effort.

Aaron did have the time. He made time. He made time to explore the dark corners of a city centre, the market stalls hidden in urban hideaways; the shabby shops frequented by patrons in the know who gladly kept their secret stores to themselves. You won’t find gold unless you sift through the murky waters, or dig below the surface.

It was in a dingy record store in the suburbs of LA that Aaron first met Gareth Jones, the rocker who ultimately widened the spectrum of Aaron’s musical taste. Gareth, a bass player, introduced Aaron to many obscure punk bands from the 1970’s, as well as several groups caught up in the New Wave of British Heavy Metal movement. He even threw in a few raw outfits from the Bay Area thrash scene for good measure. The chance meeting would eventually lead to the two young musicians starting up their own band, Red Light Zone. But was it really a stroke of luck that the pair had bumped into each other?

The thing about heading away from the mainstream well-trodden roads that lead to the same old establishments is that there is always a great opportunity to cross paths with other freethinking, like-minded characters. People with a different, unusual story to tell would often be found hanging out in a privately owned coffee shop, rather than Starbucks. They’d be reading a novel that nobody else had ever heard of, while listening to the latest up and coming band that had yet to break out from the underground scene. These people were… interesting.

One such hot spot of individuality in Harper Rock was a quirky little bookstore that Aaron had discovered late one evening. Drumming was Aaron’s primary hobby, but he had always harboured a soft spot for photography, and loved anything related to anime and graphic novels. If he had a dollar for each time he’d corrected people who dismissed graphic novels as comics, the aficionado would be a very rich man! Aaron would regularly browse the shelves of the dusty shop, hoping to find an obscure copy of something Manga-related, or a glossy hardback containing artistic pictures. He’d even bought a few incredibly informative books on Aztec culture to help him try and understand the heritage of his adoptive vampiric family. There was always something new to discover.

As Aaron pushed open the door to the bookstore, the little overhead bell ringing to announce the arrival of a potential customer, he wondered what treasures he may uncover. The budding tutor had just finished a hard day’s work at his drumming school, Skin Trade, and fancied rummaging through the shelves in the hope that something he’d previously missed would leap out at him like a salmon trying to swim upstream to breed.

He casually nodded his head in the direction of the elderly gentleman who was sitting on a stool behind the counter, in a gesture of mild recognition. The turnover of staff was relatively high in this particular shop, not least because Aaron had an appetite for things other than reading material. Word nourishment was often not the only thing on his agenda.

Running a hand through his dark hair to move a few lose strands away from his hazel eyes, Aaron made his way towards the history area. He quite fancied thumbing his way through the pages of something on the subject of Japanese warfare. What wasn’t to like about samurai warriors and katanas?

Aaron Hunter was prone to the occasional daydream. Most of his thoughts probably weren’t fit to be broadcast to the general public, certainly not without a huge amount of censoring and editing. However, today’s casual mental drifting, like a rubber dinghy floating aimlessly upon a sea of imagination, was on the subject of swords.

Having brushed his strong fingers through the pale, straw-coloured pages of a book detailing the armour worn by samurai warriors, Aaron’s warm hazel eyes became fixated on the glossy central leaves that were adorned with pictures of katanas. Suddenly, the wannabe warrior was transported to feudal Japan, screaming loudly like a wailing banshee as he slashed and chopped with his razor-sharp blade. He was definitely going to have to watch yet another Kill Bill marathon when he returned home, in the hope that Hattori Hanzo would magically knock on his front door, delivering to him the greatest sword ever forged.

The delicate ringing of the bookstore’s bell sucked Aaron back into the real world. In what could be described as an almost Pavlovian response, the dark-haired drummer suddenly became alerted to the arrival of another customer. Aaron wasn’t paranoid, he wasn’t constantly looking over his shoulder in case a human paladin was stalking him through the shadowy alleyways of Harper Rock, but he was always wary of potential danger. Maybe it was simply the inherent nature of a killer, but the vampire inside of Aaron’s human-looking shell was eternally vigilant, ready to respond to any potential threats.

A nonchalant glance towards the entrance of the shop gave Aaron no real cause for concern. His piercing eyes watched attentively as a young woman meandered her way through the aisles like a gentle stream. Aaron had a good memory for faces, but he didn’t recognize the woman with the awesome, funky-looking braids in her hair who had just cast him a polite smile as she passed by. Perhaps she was new in town, maybe a visitor catching up with relatives, or someone moving here to start a new job? The fact that she’d plotted a course, deliberate or otherwise, towards what looked like a visual reference guide to the city, hinted to Aaron that the woman was finding her feet. Was it incredibly rude of Aaron to view every new acquaintance as a potential feeding station, a fresh source of juicy red blood?

A second metallic dinging sound, indicating that the door to the normally quiet store had been opened once more, prevented Aaron from answering his own internal question. Honed eyes briefly caught a glimpse of a purple flash as a head bobbed up and down, the latest customer drifting by the bookshelves in search of whatever title caught their fancy. Was it national cool hair day, thought Aaron as the eye-catching locks wandered nearer?

Turning his attention back to the book on Japanese military history, Aaron slowly became aware that the recent arrival had paused their journey rather close to him. Sneaking a subtle glance out from the corner of his eye, it was obvious that the person, another young woman, was staring at him. The purple-haired woman quickly shuffled her head behind the book that she had opened incredibly swiftly, as if she knew that Aaron had spotted her elongated gaze.

Although the woman’s face was hidden deep within the pages of her chosen book, like an ostrich burying its head in the sand, there was a certain familiarity about her, especially her striking hairstyle. A grin broke out across the face of the samurai fanatic. He knew exactly who the shy young woman was.

A few months ago, there had been a series of terrorist attacks around Harper rock, targeting vampires. Aaron had been caught up in a fire-fight in the Quarantine Zone against a squad of human hunters, hell-bent on causing havoc. In the ensuing turmoil, Aaron had found himself thrown together with three other vampires: two males and one female, a female with purple-coloured hair. The four musketeers had each gone their separate ways after the chaos had calmed down, but Aaron was completely certain that serendipity had brought at least two of the resistance fighters back together.

Mentally, Aaron had already been disrespectful to the woman with the luscious caramel skin by assigning her the role of being a possible snack, so he was determined to be courteous to the second woman with whom he’d previously shared some bullet-dodging times, and say hello.

Walking purposefully towards the bright hair of the woman, the colour guiding him like a radiant beacon, Aaron paused at the shoulder of the braided-haired book browser.

“It’s not a bad city,” said Aaron politely. “There are certainly lots of… interesting things to see.”

Leaving a friendly smile in his wake, Aaron continued to make his way over to the other woman, stopping in front of her and peering over the top of the book cover, like a giant looking over the battlements of a castle.

“How’s it going, Miss Purple?” enquired Aaron. “I wouldn’t have thought that Chinese economics was your thing.”

Aaron resisted to the urge to giggle as he read the front cover of the book behind which the woman was still sheltering. He wondered if drinking the blood of new arrivals in Harper Rock was actually her thing, new arrivals with braided hair.

Aaron was no supermodel, and would prefer to be behind the camera rather than in front of it. He possessed a face that wasn’t particularly spectacular, and wore attire that could easily blend into a city crowd. A pair of tight jeans and a faded leather jacket was hardly cutting edge fashion, and every man and his dog seemed to either have a beard or stubble at the moment, so perhaps it wasn’t too much of a shock that the woman with the striking purple steaks in her hair didn’t instantly recognize the drummer.

“I’m Aaron,” announced the affable bloke, as he offered an accompanying smile to his introduction. “We got all hot and sweaty together in the cinema. I’m pretty sure that you owe me some popcorn!”

Hot was exactly the right word to use for the situation in which the unlucky four vampires had found themselves. The human terrorists had bombed the movie theatre in the Quarantine Zone, which was scary enough, but they’d carried out their attack during the hours of daylight. It was a classic dawn raid. Aaron had been smouldering like a failed pyro-technician, trying to dash for cover before getting fried like the Colonel’s chicken in the blazing building. The whole event was very much a blur, and to be fair, it would have been easy to forget a face in all the ensuing mayhem. But Aaron’s memory was pretty good. He certainly remembered the flashes of purple that illuminated the woman’s head.

“I guess I remember your cool hair,” added Aaron. “Maybe I should add a bit of colour to mine? What do you think about a few red streaks?”

Strong fingers ruffled through the killer’s thick, dark locks as he playfully asked for the woman’s opinion. He smiled once more, and then glanced along the aisle, lined with stacks of books that stood to attention like sentries on duty. He spied the other woman, the one with funky braids, and twisted his lips in deep contemplation.

What was the deal with coffee nowadays? The damn stuff was everywhere, flowing freely, like a raging river, spurting out of every available pipe to quench the thirst of the caffeine-fuelled population. Coffee was the new water, the new beer, the new sex. It was Champagne for the masses, the essential accompaniment to any social gathering. Each branch of Starbucks was a cathedral where the loyal worshipers could receive their holy caffeine communion from the barista priests.

Even a small independent bookstore, such as the one Aaron regularly frequented, had sold its soul to the coffee bean devil and created a cosy seated area to serve up the dark brown elixir. Coffee shops were basically cocktail bars catering for guests who preferred a hot non-alcoholic beverage to their regular cold brew. The effect was essentially the same: to give the punters their fix, their boost to get them through the day. Maybe a potent double espresso was the human equivalent of a luscious gulp of rich, crimson blood?

In many ways, combining a drinks station with a shop made perfect sense. The discerning customer could browse the numerous titles that filled the bulging shelves, wander across to a circular, metallic table - often with a wedge of cardboard beneath one leg to stop the whole thing from rocking like a ship in a storm - and skim through the pages whilst enjoying a warm latte. Granted, there was a risk that the bookstore would turn into a glorified library, and that a shrewd customer would never actually need to make a purchase, but it was a gamble worth taking for the proprietor. The internet and electronic book readers and tablets were enough competition for the dedicated store owner, so any additional attractions that would lure a potential customer into the shop were most welcome.

Aaron’s dark, hazel eyes scanned the young woman with braids as one of her hands wrapped around her drink while the other juggled the pages of her book. The vampire had highly attuned vision, a trait that made him an excellent marksman, a true deadeye with a gun. He was able to make out the words “Dorian Gray” on the cover of the coffee drinker’s novel. Aaron was no literary master, but he had heard of the fictitious character; some kind of immortal, he believed. Perhaps the patron had something a little more in common with Aaron and the purple-haired woman than the vampire had first suspected?

Aaron returned his attention back to his former partner in human terrorist slaying crime.

“Do you know the chick with the coffee?” Aaron asked, hoping that his forgetful acquaintance may have more luck recognizing the woman sipping her drink in the corner than she had in remembering him.

“Yeah,” replied Aaron, “you owe me popcorn and an ice cream!”

The dark-haired punk sent a playful smile towards the woman. The whole event at the abandoned cinema had been chaotic, with bullets flying around like a flock of seagulls at the coast, and flames shooting up from exploding bombs like multiple erupting volcanoes. It was a pretty traumatic experience, so it was no real surprise that the girl with purple steaks in her hair struggled to remember Aaron’s face. More than likely, she’d tried to erase the entire hellish ordeal from her memories, to bury it deep in the sands of time.

Aaron had a keen eye, taking note of familiar faces that he spotted around Harper Rock, but he hadn’t seen his former accomplice out and about town for months. Maybe she’d been keeping a low profile, hiding away in case something similar happened again? Hopefully, the mental scars weren’t too deep. Aaron was no shrink, but he’d always be happy to offer a friendly ear if the shy woman needed to talk.

“That was a crazy day!” continued Aaron. “I hope that we never see those kind of guys again.”

He rolled his hazel eyes, blowing out a huge sigh of relief to indicate how relieved he had been to survive the violent encounter. Harper Rock could be an incredibly dangerous city. A wrong turn down a dark back-alley, or wandering away from the paths in the wilderness, could lead to all kinds of trouble. Aaron had always been a friendly, welcoming kind of guy, but his time in the city of vampires had made the drummer far more cautious about making any new friends. He’d previously had a default setting of trusting everyone, taking them at face value and not being too judgemental. However, the more time that he spent in Harper Rock, the more suspicious he became. Often people just weren’t what they initial seemed to be.

Having said that, Aaron felt comfortable chatting to the young woman. She didn’t appear to pose any threat, and for want of a better word, she seemed… nice. But what about the other woman, the woman whose phone was shattering the peace of the store? What was her story?

“I don’t know the chick with the phone,” said Aaron, flashing a glance in the general direction of the woman with funky braids in her hair, “but I guess I’m always interested in who new people are, you know, folk you’ve never seen in town before.”

Aaron was, indeed, always curious about new and unfamiliar faces. Were they newly turned vampires, struggling to find their way around the city, or just regular folk going about their daily business? Perhaps they were part of a human terrorist organization, plotting the next attack on vampires, or maybe they were simply normal people reading a book while enjoying a hot cup of coffee? Aaron’s new found mistrust of strangers could be mistaken for a case of paranoia, but following the escapades in the Quarantine Zone, the killer had every right to sleep with one eye open.

Aaron turned his attention back to his fellow vampire, deciding that his urge to feed on the coffee-drinker could wait.

“So,” he said inquisitively, “what have you been up to?”

It was such a vague question, one that potentially opened up a million possible answers, but Aaron was interested in her response. He didn’t really know that many people in Harper Rock, particularly those within the secretive vampire community, so perhaps he should find out a little more about this one.