Show Them All You're Not the Ordinary Type

This was the part of his life that he loved.

Standing just behind William watching; his entire being watching and waiting with a focus so intense it always surprised him as the white glove dropped - slowly it seemed - to the ground.

In these precious moments as the glove continued in it’s descent it seemed to him that the world was no longer fixed. That in those exquisite few seconds the world was still spinning in a flash of bright colour and senseless sound, a ball dancing in a roulette wheel, dice tumbling through the air. And in that short beautiful moment destiny was in flux. Anything could happen.

But then the glove, an incongruous object in itself but one now associated with fear among humans and vampires alike, hits the ground. To him the soft, almost silent, silken sound of it hitting the ground is as loud as the screams that are starting to echo and rebound off the walls and, it seems, into his very being. He feels the screams as vibrations as one would feel music.

And now the future is set. Fixed. As it has happened before so it shall happen again for no one could stop them; they had the power, they were the masters, the lords, the kings of this town. Tonight is a replica of yesterday, a duplicate of tomorrow. The world was nothing if it wasn’t predictable. Routine. But it was such a beautiful routine that he didn’t mind. Instead he saw the subtle differences in each night, the slight changes that made his routine seem… spontaneous.

The glove on the ground is William’s unspoken command and he is allowed to spring away in a sudden fluid movement. As he runs he feels a release and only then does he realise how tense he had been, how he had been coiled waiting for this moment, waiting to leap away. He is restless now and he relishes the feeling of movement; the brief contact his feet have with the ground, the feeling of the air rushing past him.

The moon is a perfect silver crescent tonight. It frequently darts into the cover of the molten steel clouds as though ashamed of the dark games that are played under it’s watch, in it’s domain. It amazes him that humans, frail and vulnerable as they are, still venture out after dark when the demons and ghouls come out to play. It could be seen as bravery but he prefers to think of it as stupidity. The two words are frequently interchangeable.

He supposes he should be grateful for their stupidity but sometimes he wonders if it would not be more fun to have a challenge. An enemy with whom he could match his wits, test himself; there was no thrill in winning against the weak.

Be careful what you wish for…

He slowly becomes aware of a change in the dynamics of the night, of a slight deviation in the elaborate twisting threads that were the tapestry of his nightly life. There are newcomers. The lesser Dandies automatically move to gather behind William. He briefly deliberates whether or not he should join them - as William’s third in command perhaps it would be appropriate -but he decides to pay them little mind. William is perfectly capable of defending himself; the lackeys are for show and are dispensable. He decides instead to focus on his hunt.

He glances over at Mike, William’s second in command, who nods towards a cowering group of human girls. He tips his head to the side considering and then offers Mike a slightly mischievous smile. He quickly checks the situation behind him. William is sitting on a car, teacup in hand, unperturbed and watching with vague interest, that bordered on amusement as his Dandies fought the newcomers.

He shrugs slightly to himself and focuses on his own task. He is aware that Mike has moved into position by his right side and the other higher up Dandies have also moved into position around him. He acknowledges that by rights, it should be Mike who is in the middle but both vampires acknowledge that it is he who possesses the greater talent with regard to mind control. And as long as Mike feeds he is happy. Mike is a vampire of simple pleasures. Simple, sadistic, pleasures.

He smiles up at the moon, taunting it, before beckoning to one of the girls. He feels the surge of calm and control that he always feels when exerting his innate abilities. To him it is an art, an intricate game, he knows that he is the only one who views it as such but perhaps this is why his powers far surpass those of the others, including William. To dance through another’s mind, to gently coax them into following his orders, to suggest new ideas and build on secret dark dreams. He prefers it when there is resistance, delights in the challenge of calming and soothing before taking control.

Tonight, however, is simplicity. She walks towards him as though in a dream and with a flick of his hand, she twirls around him. The others, he is aware, see this dance as merely a ritual; wasted time between catching the victim and feeding. But to him the dance is more; as he sees the beauty of controlling another’s mind, he also sees the beauty in the dance. In the way that they move in sync although the partners do not know the steps. It is a gift; a gift of brief controlled freedom before the inevitable.

It is also a chance to feel the fear, see it dance in the humans eyes. And each night he has the chance to soothe that fear or fuel it. He usually chooses to soothe the fear. Unlike Mike is not a complete monster and bestial behaviour is not linked intrinsically with becoming one of the undead.

The dance ends and in the warm light of the streetlamps and the silvery light of the watchful moon, he sinks his fangs into the girls neck.

Yes, this was the part of his life that he loved.