doesn’t look like a library,” she said doubtfully.
As they entered the dance hall, the booming base resolved itself into crashing music. The entire room was mirrored, adding to the assault of the flashing lights and writhing bodies on the dance floor. The room was full of Young Ones in the throes of joy and blood lust, the latter expressing itself in the contortionist, irrelevantly sexual movements of the participants.
“Oh dear god,” Ryan said.
Marilyn laughed at Ryan’s reaction. She herself was largely unmoved by the spectacle. Once you had seen the debaucheries of the Borgia court or in fact anything associated with Papal Rome, this was quite tame by comparison. And Marilyn knew it was that tameness that stoked Ryan’s disgust, not the debauchery. It was the utter banality of the scene that inspired her irritation. Susan seemed unaware of Ryan’s horrified reaction.
“I don’t see Raphael anywhere.”
“I thought we were going to a library,” Ryan said.
“Not a library,” Susan corrected, “The Library. That’s the name of this club.” She looked at Ryan curiously. “Did you really think we were going to a library?”
“Yes,” Ryan said, “that’s where I met Raphael. I was hunting during the cleansing and I came across him and his companions at an actual library. I spared them,” she said, turning her attention to the debacle in front of her, “this, on the other hand, I completely destroyed.”
“Now, now,” Marilyn said soothingly, “we can return and destroy the place if you wish when Dr. Ryerson is finished.”
“No!” Susan exclaimed, appalled. She was never quite certain when these two were joking.
“Fine, fine,” Marilyn said, “just go find your little friend and we will find a corner to hide in.”
Susan left and Marilyn guided Ryan to a spot at the bar. The two attracted no attention, which was really quite anomalous since they were taller than everyone in the room, moved with an unnatural flowing grace and seemed bound together by some web of sensuality that shut everyone else out. Ryan leaned against the bar and Marilyn leaned against Ryan.
The bartender approached the two. Generally, he could guess someone’s age and the date they had been Changed within a decade. It was a good skill to possess as a bartender. The crowd in this club was decidedly young and of little interest to even those of the middle ground. Every once in a while, someone would come in who was a few centuries old, but there was little to attract such a being to this place.
Oddly, he could not get a fix on either of these two. The dark-haired one glanced at him casually and the fair-haired one ignored him entirely. For some reason he felt the need to please them.
“We have some very fine ‘spirits’ tonight, if you wish.” He extended a wine glass filled with red liquid that Ryan could smell without any need to get closer.
“No thank you,” she said graciously, politely hiding her disdain. When he departed she turned to Marilyn.
“Now where is the fun in that,” she said, “why in heaven would you drink blood from a glass when you could drink from a vein?”
“Hmm,” Marilyn speculated, “perhaps it gives them the opportunity to drink the blood of one more powerful without risking death.”
“I repeat,” Ryan said emphatically, “where is the fun in that?”
Marilyn smiled her agreement as Susan approached with Raphael and a few of his companions. The handsome black man was unaware of their presence.
“Raphael,” Susan said, introducing her friend, “you remember Ryan.”
At that moment, Ryan lifted the perceptual veil she was maintaining, allowing Raphael to see her. His eyes widened and, if possible given his skin color, he blanched. “My lord,” he stuttered, “I mean your majesty…”
To Ryan’s dismay, Raphael went to one knee.
“Oh dear god,” she said under her breath. Like lightning, she grasped him by his collar and with one hand hauled him upward so
As they entered the dance hall, the booming base resolved itself into crashing music. The entire room was mirrored, adding to the assault of the flashing lights and writhing bodies on the dance floor. The room was full of Young Ones in the throes of joy and blood lust, the latter expressing itself in the contortionist, irrelevantly sexual movements of the participants.
“Oh dear god,” Ryan said.
Marilyn laughed at Ryan’s reaction. She herself was largely unmoved by the spectacle. Once you had seen the debaucheries of the Borgia court or in fact anything associated with Papal Rome, this was quite tame by comparison. And Marilyn knew it was that tameness that stoked Ryan’s disgust, not the debauchery. It was the utter banality of the scene that inspired her irritation. Susan seemed unaware of Ryan’s horrified reaction.
“I don’t see Raphael anywhere.”
“I thought we were going to a library,” Ryan said.
“Not a library,” Susan corrected, “The Library. That’s the name of this club.” She looked at Ryan curiously. “Did you really think we were going to a library?”
“Yes,” Ryan said, “that’s where I met Raphael. I was hunting during the cleansing and I came across him and his companions at an actual library. I spared them,” she said, turning her attention to the debacle in front of her, “this, on the other hand, I completely destroyed.”
“Now, now,” Marilyn said soothingly, “we can return and destroy the place if you wish when Dr. Ryerson is finished.”
“No!” Susan exclaimed, appalled. She was never quite certain when these two were joking.
“Fine, fine,” Marilyn said, “just go find your little friend and we will find a corner to hide in.”
Susan left and Marilyn guided Ryan to a spot at the bar. The two attracted no attention, which was really quite anomalous since they were taller than everyone in the room, moved with an unnatural flowing grace and seemed bound together by some web of sensuality that shut everyone else out. Ryan leaned against the bar and Marilyn leaned against Ryan.
The bartender approached the two. Generally, he could guess someone’s age and the date they had been Changed within a decade. It was a good skill to possess as a bartender. The crowd in this club was decidedly young and of little interest to even those of the middle ground. Every once in a while, someone would come in who was a few centuries old, but there was little to attract such a being to this place.
Oddly, he could not get a fix on either of these two. The dark-haired one glanced at him casually and the fair-haired one ignored him entirely. For some reason he felt the need to please them.
“We have some very fine ‘spirits’ tonight, if you wish.” He extended a wine glass filled with red liquid that Ryan could smell without any need to get closer.
“No thank you,” she said graciously, politely hiding her disdain. When he departed she turned to Marilyn.
“Now where is the fun in that,” she said, “why in heaven would you drink blood from a glass when you could drink from a vein?”
“Hmm,” Marilyn speculated, “perhaps it gives them the opportunity to drink the blood of one more powerful without risking death.”
“I repeat,” Ryan said emphatically, “where is the fun in that?”
Marilyn smiled her agreement as Susan approached with Raphael and a few of his companions. The handsome black man was unaware of their presence.
“Raphael,” Susan said, introducing her friend, “you remember Ryan.”
At that moment, Ryan lifted the perceptual veil she was maintaining, allowing Raphael to see her. His eyes widened and, if possible given his skin color, he blanched. “My lord,” he stuttered, “I mean your majesty…”
To Ryan’s dismay, Raphael went to one knee.
“Oh dear god,” she said under her breath. Like lightning, she grasped him by his collar and with one hand hauled him upward so
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