“So wait, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that we need to be a little more careful, Dima.”

The bar is loud and dim, and we seem to scream over the Top 40 echoing from the dance floor. An occasional laser light stabs into my eyes, made all the brighter by the vodka building up in my veins.

“I got that, but what do you mean by careful?”

Dmitriy seems as thick as ever, so I try to be a little more blunt: “We can’t go leaving passed out whores in alleyways.”

“Then where else are we gonna leave ‘em?”

He’s obviously worse off than me, though he’s been getting doubles all night. I’d lost count after the Cape Cod, but I can’t even taste the cranberry on my breath anymore. It was a while back, I guess.

The conversation is pointless: I cannot argue and Dmitriy cannot listen. Maybe it would be best to just do what we came here to do.

But how?

My question is answered by a lady in body-hugging red, an irony in the Krasnaya.

“Hey boys,” she coos, somehow softly amid the pounding of bass and bodies. “Not here to dance?”

Dmitriy shakes his head drunkenly, his eyes fixed on her chest. For all he cares right now, she’s a nice rack on nicer legs.

It’s up to me to redeem ourselves. “Not quite. We’re making an attempt to try every drink special the bartender can throw at us.” I smile, though I’m sure it is just as drunken as Dmitriy’s own.

A grin curls at the edges of her rose red lips, glimmering for a moment but sustained in her eyes.

Dmitriy took this as his chance to make an introduction, a slurry smile spreading across his own face.

“Dmitriy, but Dima is much easier to moan.”

Always the gentleman.

A quick laugh, and she moves to sit beside him, removing the man already on the stool with a look.

I lean over the counter past Dmitriy, eager to introduce myself. “Kostya, and you would be?”

“Kioko,” she says simply. Her lips pull apart to reveal her teeth, incisors flashing briefly. Our eyes meet for a second before she hails the bartender. “The usual.”

He returns a few moments later with two shot glasses, both full of a clear liquid. She extends two fingers in the air in his direction and he nods, turning once more to his taps. Again he brings two shot glasses, full of the same liquid, this time setting them before Dmitriy. Two more are put down in front of me, and we both turn to Kioko, puzzled.

Aren’t we supposed to be buying drinks for her?

She picks up the left glass, and beckons for us to do the same. The three of us raise the clear liquid to our lips, then throw back our heads and let it pout down our throats.

Vodka.

“So Kioko,” I ask. “I’ve never met anyone with that name before.”

“Just wait,” she answers, the second glass balanced between two fingers. She lifts it to her lips and we follow suit, draining the clear contents.

It burns on the way down, but not in the same way the Russian vodka did.

Dima gasps, unable to control his reflexes in his current state.

“Sake,” Kioko states. “Does that answer your question?”

I laugh a little, really an attempt to clear my throat after the potent Japanese alcohol. “Yes, I think it does.” I bare my own incisors, mimicking her earlier gesture of trust.

Her eyes shift once more to the bartender, who nods and walks off. When he returns he is once more bearing drinks, though this time he has only two. They’re in cocktail classes, and a dull red.

Cosmopolitan?

“Drink up, boys,” Kioko says, smiling. Her teeth are shown plainly, though the drunken people about us pay no notice.

I take a sip, expecting a drink similar to the Cap Cod I had enjoyed earlier. Instead I find it coppery and slightly thick. I put the glass down and turn to Dmitriy, who is guzzling it greedily. He finishes, tongue lashing across his lips to get the last drops, but a small dribble crawls down his chin. Smiling, he turns to look at me, his eyes giving away everything he’s wanting to say.

He’s had his fix, he’s had his blood.

Kioko also smiles beside him, her own drink in hand, a match to mine. “Not thirsty anymore, Kostya?”

“Always thirsty, Kioko,” I reply. “Just taking my time to enjoy it.”

We share a laugh before finishing our drinks, fresh blood rushing through out bodies along with the alcohol.

RATE THIS CHAPTER!

Author guidance for This story

To survive into the modern age, vampires used every last scrap of wit and cunning they possessed. They spread lies, such as their weakness to garlic, poplar stakes, and crosses, as well as their affinity to bats. They spearheaded many medical institutions, drug clinics and blood banks in particular. At some points in history, vampires fabricated false threats to divert the attention of towns, governments, and empires.

As such, many of the preconceptions about vampires are false, merely untruths coined to cause fear and distract from what a vampire really is.

♦◊♦

Narration style is first person through the eyes of Kostya, though upon occasion third person is used. Some exceptions occur when Kostya is not the fixture of the chapter or event, but generally the world is seen through his eyes.

♦◊♦

Dramatis Personae:
Konstantin (Kostya) Konstantinovich is a young vampire now left as the last of his family. He doesn't like the lifestyle, but tries to in an attempt to please his father.

Dmitriy (Dima) Ivanovich is also a young vampire. He is older than Kostya, but of a less "pure" family. Him and Kostya have been good friends all their lives, so they tend to act like brothers.

Kioko (Kika) Sergovna is a young vampire with a Russian father and Japanese mother. She is a fixture at the blood bar Krasnaya, which her father owns.

Sergei Borisovich is Kioko's father and patriarch of his clan. He owns the blood bar Krasnaya and was one of Konstantin Sr.'s foremost rivals.


An explanation of Russian Names:
Male proper names will always end in a consonant, which includes the letter Y/I (consonant-I in Russian). Female proper names always end in the letter A.

Nicknames will usually end in a vowel for both males and females, most often the letter A

Middle names are taken from the name of the father and given an appropriate ending. So, Kostya is named after his father.

Family names follow a similar form to proper names, ending with a consonant for males and the letter A for females. As yet, no family names have been given.

Note: Kioko's proper name does not follow these rules, as her name is Japanese. In Russian it would likely be rendered as Kiyoka. This is where her nickname Kika comes from.

updated Feb 7 '10 by Jackerbie