God Hates Us

After I’ve stared at the closed door for about half an hour, I come to the conclusion that I really am alone. Ignoring the pain from my abused face and wrists, I take the opportunity to study my surroundings.

As I’ve already seen, the window and door are locked and double locked. No escape route there, then. The bed-sheets I’m lying on are black, silk by the feel, and the carpet matches. The walls are dark gray, the paper patterned with silver in the shape of spirals, vines and tiny silver stars. There isn’t much to say about the contents of the room. There’s an antique dressing table with a three-piece vanity mirror and a few bottles scattered across the top, and a large dark-wood wardrobe. The rest of the room is bare walls and carpet.

How the fuck do I get out of this?

Even if I could reach my ear, which I couldn’t, a slight shake of my head told me they’d taken out my other earring so I couldn’t pick the locks. Dammit.

I’ve been in scrapes before (Hell, I’ve almost died like six times!) but this was different. Instead of killing me quickly, as is the vamps’ preferred method, he’s keeping me chained up here like an animal. But why?

If you’re going to kill me, just fucking get on with it! I roar inside my head, knowing full well someone would be able to hear me.

“We’re not going to kill you.”

My head jerks up and I see another man standing in the room, leaning against the closed door. Short, spiky blonde hair with black patches, ring in the side of his nose and a metal stud in each ear. It takes me a few seconds, but then I recognise him.

It’s Johnny Christ.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, frowning.

He chuckles, taking a step forward. “I live here, honey.”

I start to form a question, but change tack mid-word. “Wha...Who are you? I mean really, who are you?”

“You’d have been better off asking the first question you were planning to ask,” he says, grinning and revealing sharp white teeth.

“So you’re all vampires?” I knew it.

“Yep.” He glances down at the mess on the floor, then chuckles again. “Val is not gonna be pleased. She loved that vase.”

“Why are you keeping me here?” I demand, uninterested in the vermin’s small-talk.

He steps closer until he’s standing right by the bed, looking down at me. “Because,” he says simply.

“Why?”

“Does it matter?”

I don't reply.

“Are you hungry?” he asks suddenly.

“What?” I frown, sure I’d misheard him.

“Are you hungry?” he repeats, looking at me expectantly.

I open my mouth to tell him no, I’m not fucking hungry, but my treacherous stomach answers for me. I look down at it angrily, then say instead with a resigned sigh, “...Yeah, I guess.” What’s the catch?

“No catch. I’ll go fix you some food.” And with that, he leaves the room, opening and closing the door silently.

That explains why I didn’t hear him come in. Damn these vampires!

With nothing else to do, I’m stuck admiring the wallpaper. By the time the vamp comes back, I could probably reproduce the pattern from memory if I wanted.

“I hope you like Italian?” he says, holding out a plate of what looks like pasta carbonara.

It’s probably poisoned. I eye the plate suspiciously.

“Come on, it’s like you said: If we wanted to kill you, we would’ve done it already. And we wouldn’t need to resort to using poison either, as you should know.”

I wriggle my hands in the cuffs, making a loud clattering noise. “How am I supposed to eat like this?” I ask, hoping to persuade him to unlock my bindings.

No joy. Instead, he sits on the side of the bed, holds up a forkful of pasta and grins. “Open wide!”

It’s humiliating, being fed like a child, but I can’t ignore the glaringly obvious facts that I am extremely hungry, and that the food is delicious. It’s a wrench when the plate is empty; he spots my look of longing and laughs.

“There’s more in the kitchen, if you want?”

I shake my head. “No.” Then I think for a moment, and ask, “Where is this?”

“It’s my home.”

“No, I mean town, state.”

Now he shakes his head. “Sorry, can’t tell you that.”

Didn’t think you would. I suddenly shiver, realising how cold the room is. “Can I...” I trail off, hating the pleading note in my tone, but then carry on as I shiver again. “Can I have my clothes back?”

“...I don't know.” He eyes me for a moment; I stare balefully back. But then he gets up and walks to the door. “I’ll ask.”

I don't bother to thank him; showing civility to vampires is not my style. Within thirty seconds he’s back, this time carrying a small bundle in his arms. He drops it on the bed and reaches up to unlock one of the cuffs. Before it’s open, however, he freezes.

“Zacky tells me you’re a treacherous bitch,” he says in a conversational tone.

“Oh?” I don't even bother to feign interest.

“I’m not gonna threaten to kill you or anything like that, but just to let you know: if you try anything, and I mean anything, I’ll leave you chained up here naked.”

“Whatever. I won’t ‘try anything’.”

He nods, continuing to unlock my shackles. Once my hands are freed I start to pull on the clothes he brought. They aren’t the ones I was wearing before, but they’re warm, so I’m not complaining. The pile turns out to consist of a pair of dark-wash blue jeans, a black Batman T-shirt, some socks and a large, plain-black zip-up hoody. He watches me dress, but there’s no point in asking him to turn around; he’s seen me in my underwear already.

Once I’m fully clothed, he holds up a pair of shoes: white and black chequered Vans. I slip them on, grateful to find that they’re the right size. There’s nothing worse than having to wear shoes that don't fit.

“You’re welcome,” he says, a little tersely, when I don't say anything.

I look at him. Now that I’m standing up, he’s not as tall as I thought he was; in fact, he's a little shorter than myself. “Look, as far as I’m concerned, you kidnapped me, so I have no reason to be polite to you.”

“Whatever.” He goes to leave the room.

“Wait,” I blurt out, before I can stop myself.

He stops, turning around with a quizzical look on his face. “What?”

“...Do I have to stay in here?”

“You want to come out?”

I shrug my shoulders slightly. “Beats sitting in here all day.”

“I don't know...” He looks a little worried. “If you promise to be good, I guess it’d be okay...”

“I promise.” I look at him steadily.

“Well...Okay. But I’ll lock you right back in here if you so much as think about trying anything. And I’ll know.” He taps the side of his head, then points a finger at me until I nod. “Alright, come on then.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He unlocks the door and, gripping me by the arm tightly, starts to walk me down the stairs. It’s the first time I’ve seen this area of the house, having been unconscious when they brought me in. The walls are papered in a similar style to the room I was kept in, a dark gray background with silver plants and stylised animals dancing across it, and every window has thick velvet curtains hanging to the floor. There’s a marble statue on the second landing - there must be at least three floors in this place! – shaped like a woman with her hands held over her eyes.

We reach what must be the ground floor and Johnny pauses before pushing the dark wood door open, dragging me firmly but not roughly behind him into the room.

“Johnny? What are you doing?”

The others are all there: Shadows, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall beside an empty fireplace with a book in his hands, and Gates, Vengeance and Sullivan sat at the table playing cards. When we walk in, they all look up, then get up from their seats to stand in a line in front of us. The movement almost makes me jump, it’s so fast.

Shadows opens his mouth to speak, but then Vengeance steps forwards. “Johnny, what is this?” he asks, his voice quiet and expressionless.

Johnny looks a little worried, but holds his ground as he says, “She’s promised to be good, and I won’t let her out of my sight. I just thought... It doesn't seem fair to leave her up there all day.”

“Have you already forgotten what happened last time the bitch promised she’d behave?” Zacky snaps; my eyes move to his arm, where I can see a tiny pink scar cutting across one of his tattoos.

“That was a mistake,” Johnny says, to my surprise. “She won’t do it again, right?” He turns to me with a look in his eyes that clearly says: Play along.

“Yeah. I shouldn’t have done that.” I take a deep breath, then force myself to continue. “I’m...I’m sorry.”

The others seem appeased by this, but Vengeance’s eyes narrow. He doesn't look convinced by my apology (and to be perfectly honest, I wouldn’t be either).

“You’re sorry for what you did?” he says softly, stepping forward until he’s right in front of me.

I nod; I can feel Johnny tensing through the grip he still has on my upper arm, but then Zacky smiles.

“Okay.”

“Uhm... What?” I’m confused; I don't trust this creep at all, even less so when he smiles.

“I’ll let Johnny explain.” He chuckles, then turns away. The others take that as their cue to go back to their card game, this time Matt joining them at the table.

“Yeah, Johnny. Why don't you explain?” I say, turning to face him.

“Let’s sit down?” he suggests, pointing to the couch. We sit; he removes his hand from my arm, but keeps his eyes fixed on me in case I make any sudden moves. I get the impression that he can move a hell of a lot faster than me, anyway.

“So. Why am I being kept here?” I ask, keeping one eye on the others while I listen to Johnny’s answer. I know they’re all listening, but to their credit, they have the grace to pretend they’re not.

“Basically... It’s so you can’t kill any more vampires. Zacky doesn't want to kill you, but he can’t risk you bringing more hunters and wiping out his family...us.” He looks apologetic and I’m about to say something angry, but one word he’d said had caught my attention.

“Family? I thought your species weren’t the sentimental type?” I say with a frown.

“It’s complicated... The cliffnotes version: We’ve been brothers, technically if not genetically, for over fifty years – at least, that’s how long I’ve been with them. I’m the youngest, in human and vamp years, so they must’ve been together for over a hundred years or something. Most vamp clans are structured like a hierarchy – the leader and his mate, commanding the others as they wish, and the underlings have to obey, no matter what. Oh yeah, and in other clans, only the leader is allowed to have a life-mate, while the others have to satisfy their needs with temporary partners who usually end up getting killed or replaced.”

I know most of this already, so I don't comment on the off-hand way he says that. I’ve seen it happen before; it’s a fact of this life and doesn't faze me anymore.

He continues. “We’re not like that. Yeah, we’ve got Zacky, he’s the oldest, and sort-of our leader, but he doesn't boss us around and most of the time if we need to make a decision, we do it together. And we can have girlfriends if we want, but for practical reasons we stick to our own species. Matt’s got Val, Brian’s got any girl he wants and Jimmy’s probably got someone too but you can never be sure with him. No offence, man!” he adds with a glance over his shoulder. Sullivan gives him the finger without looking up, but I can see he’s grinning.

I laugh despite myself. Anyone spending five minutes in the same room with Sullivan can see he’s a little...odd. I can tell that Gates is a ladies’ man, just by looking at him; I remember Johnny mentioning how ‘Val’ would not be pleased I broke her precious vase. But then I frown again.

“What about you and him?” I jerk my thumb over at where Vengeance is still playing cards (though judging from the look on his face, not very well).

“Well, I - I just haven’t found the right girl yet, I guess... And Zack? That’s...personal. Sorry.” He grimaces, but I don't push.

It’s not like I really care anyway; I just wanted to show some interest. It would be more useful to try and stay on his good side for the time being. “Right.”

“So... Tell me ‘bout yourself?” He looks at me hopefully. I can tell he really wants to have a conversation, and after a few seconds, I relent.

“My name’s Cassandra,” I make a face, “but my friends call me Cass – suit yourself. Last name’s Flynn. I used to live with my family, but now I have to move around a lot. The job, you know,” I add, seeing his slightly confused expression. He nods, waiting for me to go on.

“So... What do you want to know?” I ask him, not wanting to go through my whole family history.

“Um...” He thinks for a moment. “Why did you become a vampire hunter?”

I groan inwardly. I’d been hoping nobody would ask me that. “My best friend... She was practically my sister. We did everything together, worked in the same store, lived on the same street, liked the same music, films, you name it.

“She was on her way to my place after work. I’d had the day off sick, so she was coming over to see how I was. But she never showed. Wouldn’t answer her cell. Three days later, I went to her place to see if she was okay. There were cop cars outside, and her mother was crying. She told me Lucille had been kidnapped.”

Johnny’s eyes are wide; he seems on the verge of saying something, but oddly, I feel like I want to finish the story, now I’ve started.

“I was starting to get over it, when about two weeks later, I had a phone call. From the cops. They’d found a body, dumped in the street six block away. I had to go down to the Coroner’s and ID the victim, ‘cause her mother couldn’t do it.”

I pause for a second, then continue, swallowing hard. “It was her. She’d had her throat ripped out, her body drained of blood. Of course, I didn’t know anything about vampires then, but once I saw that, I started researching, asking questions. Eventually I found some people who trained me to fight.”