“You see I can not be forsaken, because I’m not the only one! We walk amongst you, feeding, raping… Must we hide from everyone?”
The ironic lyrics to the Disturbed song thumping through the club brought a manic grin to Dianna’s young face. Here she didn’t have to hide her fangs behind her lips, and they glinted an unnaturally pale white in the dim, shifting lights. She was a regular at the Sinister Puppet, often finding her second hand clothing from victims she chose here. The shiny, ruby red vinyl corset she wore tonight had come off of the stick thin meal she’d had just the night before. Her vibrantly colored hair matched it perfectly, but the clingy, long-sleeved, fishnet shirt she wore over it muted the effect a bit. Her mile long, slender legs were draped in black silk that hugged her hips and butt almost lovingly before falling in loose waves around her ankles. Her feet were bare, as usual, showing her fishnet stockings and the ruby red polish on her toes that matched her long nailed fingers. Her lips were painted the same vibrant color. A dusky gray framed her almond shaped eyes, crimson eye liner slashing dark, slanted lines. All that was not black or red was her porcelain white skin and crystalline blue eyes. Her unnaturally colored skin was made all the whiter by all the black, her unusual blue eyes made all the more vibrant by the reds. It was a haunting look she nurtured vainly. Even the undead and insane could be vain.
As her body moved fluidly to the next piece, interestingly tilted: “Why wont you die?” her sharp eyes moved over the rhythmically swaying crowd. The mortals seemed awkward next to the vampires among them. The wolves had their fangs bared but the sheep were too busy playing wolves to notice the danger. It amused her, and yet it terrified her. Other vampires had always made her edgy and nervous, but they could not be avoided. Instead she simply avoided their eyes, ignored their existence and stayed out of their way.
A stripe of white-blonde hair, only a few naturally colored strands, fell across her face as she bowed her head. The invading thoughts of a vampire close by was making her skin tingle as shards of glass cruelly cut into her skull. Did they know they broadcasted themselves so loudly? Mortals had no control, but immortals were so much louder in her head. Particularly when she slept. In her dreams she saw them, smelled them, listened to their night terrors and their fantasies the way a curious child watches an odd insect they’d never seen before.
The voice dimmed, drew away, and Dianna breathed a sigh of relief as the music came back to her ears and the shards of her mind ceased their stabbing pain for a time. As she closed her eyes, faces floated in her mind’s eye, the faces of the voices that mixed in a muddled haze of color behind her eyelids. The Victorian silver cross resting against her porcelain skin, just below the tight leather collar around her slender neck, glinted faintly, the skin beneath only slightly pink. The small burning she felt there served to center her mind, if only briefly.
At least it was long enough to make the faces go away.
