It's been a rough few months, but the continued requests for my story have helped more than you know. I need the confidence where I am. Unfortunately this is only some of it. I'm going to do everything I can to finish it in a timely manner. I might even go for a book out of it (but I will still finish this here). The world I'm creating is intriguing and Damien is a fun character to escape in. Oh yeah, these places exist in Houston and I've been to most of them...but they are not exactly as the are in reality. Keep in mind, I'm writing fiction here.
Now, without further ado...meet Damien Night.
***
"Oi! TEN THOUSAND YEARS...will give you such a crick in the neck!"
Damien laughed and popped another cheese puff in his mouth as he lounged across the soft white cow hide of the couch in a pair of boxers, the incarnation of every woman's fantasy. If he wasn't then he could fix that, but at the moment he had no designs on fulfilling any fantasies. The only thing he wanted to do was laugh about scantily clad women in a children's cartoon and eat junk food.
Ten thousand years.
He rolled onto his back, lacing his fingers behind shaggy sandy brown hair, and stared up at the ceiling with luminescent green eyes. His appearance may change according to the whims of those he pursued, but the eyes were always his.
Ten thousand years was a long time. To any human lying there it would have been unfathomable. It was still a leap for him even though he'd already existed half that span. The shit he'd seen, and there was always more. Still, five thousand years may not be a crick in the neck, but the occasional bouts of boredom were certainly a bitch.
He didn't bother to hang around and witness the aftermath of his latest conquest. The sexually repressed always 'tasted' best, but they were a dime a dozen. He didn't have to see to know what she would do, where she would end up. Or he didn't care. He wasn't sure today. Regardless, he'd set pretty little Makayla on a whole new path and some sort of chaos was bound to ensue. And she'd been fun, for sure. It was a little work worming his way into an executive position in her office, but he was a master of getting into tight spots and the look on her face was more than worth it. There was also a certain satisfaction in knowing how badly the dominoes would fall when the promising young new VP simply vanished off the face of the planet. The scenario wasn't new, though. He'd done it all, seen it all, fucked most of it. For the moment the prevailing attitude was 'same shit, different setting'.
That was a week ago and, while he was content to gnaw on food that didn't exactly fit that definition, it was simply for the taste. It certainly didn't provide the things he needed to survive. Not that it would have even if he did require such nourishment.
A week wasn't exactly long. He could go months, but boredom made him harder to satisfy. He could feel the itch; a stiffness in his muscles, a twitch in his groin, a need to feel the flesh of the softer sex writhing beneath his expert touch, the shock that coursed through her body the moment... He reached for the remote and silenced the sixty inch LED screen without looking at it. Suddenly Disney's "Aladdin" wasn't exactly the entertainment he desired.
He was still in no mood to put on some grand production. It took time. Find one he liked, invade her dreams, invade her life, invade her body...not necessarily in that order. At the moment he just wanted a willing victim, and he knew exactly where to get one. He glanced at the ten foot tall stretch of windows that opened over the Houston skyline and noted with annoyance that none of the clubs would be open for several more hours. At least it was an Underworld Saturday. Women of the gothic scene generally didn't need much prodding. When you open yourself up to the occult, you open yourself up.
He rolled off the couch and marched towards the bathroom. With a thought the integrated sound system keyed up Stevie Wonder's "Superstition" as he made his way past an open kitchen equipped for a gourmet chef in black marble and stainless steel, up the industrial style stairs that somehow looked like they were floating, and into the bedroom that might as well have been an entirely separate apartment. The bathroom was just as over the top. It was his version of a 1/1 efficiency, and completely unaccommodating to guests. Other than the cleaning crew he was the only being that stepped foot on the plush cream colored carpet, not that he needed to put a foot down. The only reason he walked the distance this time was because, to date, the sun was one of the few things in this corner of the universe that he couldn't bow to his whims and he had time to kill.
Of course at five thousand years, give or take a few hundred, you get pretty damn good at passing hours. By the time the sun fell below the horizon he was walking down Westheimer, legs encased in black leather. It was early November yet unseasonably warm, not that Houston had seasons, still almost too warm for leather. The mesh shirt, that left nothing of a hard etched torso to the imagination, compensated somewhat. He heard a male voice yell 'nice ass, honey' from somewhere behind him prompting him to let some of the more heinous things he was capable of roll off of him in an invisible wave. Now the surrounding populous made way for him the same way they would a side show freak. It didn't quell all interest but there was something for everyone in this city.
Hair like fine black silk hung nearly to his waist making the various bits of silver jewelry across his body stand out that much more. It wasn't his cup of tea but it was all the rage with the kids these days. Besides, his appearance would change a dozen times before he finally made a choice most likely. A pair of dark wraparound shades completed the look but they had a function. Dark clubs had a drawback when it came to eyes that gave off their own light, but they certainly didn't hurt when you were seducing a vampire bait wannabe.
He stilled the negative energy just before he cleared the front door, it wouldn't do to scare away the prey. Wandering through the crowds he listened for something easy. Some poor twit wondering why the hell she couldn't find someone to belong to or just longing for the ride of her life; someone who would fall without a fight. He moved towards a corner where a small group huddled together talking over the electronic notes, laughing. The girl, surrounded by 4 men, didn't exactly fit the profile...as far as he knew. He couldn't read her. Not something new, but not something common. In his present apathetic state she had the same effect on him that sirens did on water weary sailors, though he had far less to worry about than those sailors.
He caught thoughts of Facebook, computers, and that game World of Warcraft from the flock that currently fawned over her. It was just yesterday to him that computers were room sized metal boxes of beeping lights. Now they fit inconspicuously in small corners and occupied large spaces of the human mind, even overshadowing basic life requirements like food and sleep and sex...mostly. Sex seemed to be part of the intent at the moment as far as the men were concerned. He'd caught a few fleeting images he wouldn't mind making a reality. The fact that the girl was uninterested was painfully obvious, but the little tattooed pierced heroes of the cyber world seemed blissfully unaware.
She didn't belong there. That wasn't to say that she didn't look damn good in the black satin corset that hugged her torso beneath the pale swell of cleavage it supported, but something was off about her. Even her hair, dark enough to fade into the dim lighting of the bar and of considerable length, and the skin that contrasted it did not abate the inclination. He could not shake the feeling she simply wasn't where she was supposed to be, and it was more than the standard contented failure that infused the human populous.
While he contemplated an approach she presented one for him. The boredom finally caught up with her and her planned escape would take her right to him. He let the crowd swallow him and waited against a wall, keeping her in his peripheral vision to avoid alarming her. His inability to read someone was generally indicative of a more sensitive mind, and he didn't want her to panic before he had a chance to get close.
***
Annabelle listened with only half her attention. She just wasn't feeling it tonight. She came here to let loose and have an excuse to wear a corset, but she'd been up late the previous night with inventory and the feel she loved so much was closer to a hungry python wrapped around her body. Even the music did nothing to enliven her dulled senses.
She yawned.
"I have a little pick-me-up if you want." One of her companions mentioned. "Free for someone as lovely as you, Belle."
"No, thank you. I'll just get another drink." She needed a drug around this place like she needed another hole in the head. And the line was just lame.
"I'll get it." One of the other's piped up.
"No, I'd like the walk...alone." The last word came out more harshly than she meant but the attention was grating on her solitary loving nerves. Did someone spread a rumor she was easy or something?
She made for the bar feeling something out of place but couldn't put her finger on it. She tried to forget it, letting the industrial heartbeat of "KMFDM" wash it away. She did love this music. Leaning against the bar she waited to get the tender's attention when that something out of place suddenly felt right next to her.
"Get you a drink?"
'Dark sunglasses at night. Here's someone who takes himself too damn seriously.' She thought to herself.
