The rest of the evening was uneventful, and she was thankful for that. Temporarily freed from the shackles of her employment, she stepped out onto the street with a new spring in her step. Judas must have felt bad for her: she had bought her dessert at lunch, a delicious sugared foie gras paste chilled to resemble ice cream. A little affection went a long way for the unfortunate ghoul, and she was already thinking of when she’d need to sleep on Sunday to make it up for work in time. However, for now? It was EJ time. She scanned the endless streets of the metropolis, wondering to herself… Where to first… Where to first?

The decision was a Friday-night classic: to some dodgy club to drink and revel and forget the weekdays. A timid walk became a confident gait as the nightlife of Vitus crawled from darkened alleys and shadowy structures: men, women, and what lay between all began to mix and mingle along busy, crowded streets. Food stands and alleyway bars sold meat both fresh and cooked, their sanguine aroma drifting into the night air beside the smog, the humidity, and the dust; doors to nightclubs were propped perpetually open by hulking bouncers with brass knuckles or beatsticks. A salary worker like Esper James could simply drift where she pleased, letting the night take her on a journey all her own. Her eyes roamed the busy streets with less trepidation than before; free from work, ready to play, she was nearly twice as headstrong. Emboldened by liberty of choice, she chose the first establishment her eyes landed on: The Jezzebelle Club.

Standing tall and thin and inscrutably deep into the wall of buildings surrounding it, the Jezzebelle Club was a dark, smoky, thrumming hub of sound and strobe lights and bodies. Esper James breathed deeply as she entered, the bouncer at the door (a brutish ghast with a glass eye who sneered as she passed) having cleared her without a word. Blood lingered in the air, mixed with sweat, adrenaline, booze, and perfume… Ghoulish senses kept her informed of everything. She could practically taste the cheap cologne from the dancefloor, and her eyes could pick out every face like a photograph. The Jezzebelle was, of course, a corpse-club; that is, a club exclusively for the undead, or those with a penchant for them. Some living mingled with the dead willingly or moreso; coffin-jockeys looking to go home with a vampire at best, or a zombie at worst. Necrophilia was slowly becoming vogue, depending on your definition of the word.

The club itself was strikingly urbane; counterculture if only for the sake of it. Blacks and reds and neon hues were the dress code, with spikes, leather, latex, and denim taking up the majority of what parts remained clothed; EJ was horribly underdressed with her white dress blouse and pencil skirt, office chic versus underground runway style. It was only once a man in square sunglasses bumped into her and flashed his fangs that she realized she was still standing in the foyer, overanalyzing everything again. What blood she could muster formed a bloom in her cheeks as she mumbled an apology, scurrying away towards the bar - solid metal and laden with band paraphernalia, she struggled for a few moments to even hop up onto one of the hardback stools. The barkeep was busy with another patron, and so she took a moment to check her phone, trying to ignore the disdain in the looks of the clubbers who flanked her. No messages - typical. The only person who texted her was Judas, anyways; fat chance she’d speak to her outside of work in the first place. A cleared throat made her turn her eyes back up, inadvertently locking them with those of the bartender - an ashen-skinned man with deep scarlet eyes and a shaggy black mop of hair. EJ swallowed.

“You look out of place, sweet thing; are you lost? Library’s two blocks up the street.” His voice was deep and smoky like a fine cigar, the bass in it nearly drowned out by club beats. EJ cleared her throat, sitting up a bit straighter in her seat as she shook her head.

“No, no, j-just here for a drink. One axe-murder, please.” She bit her tongue as soon as she was finished speaking, fists balling with shame at just how timid she sounded. Vampires had that effect on people - making them feel small, scared, powerless, entranced. It was the eyes, mostly, but also their skin and scent: powerful short-range pheromones were brewed in altered sweat glands to entice potential prey into a sense of ecstasy, making them easy targets. The eyes then hypnotized with their jewel-like color and seemingly shifting patterns, a low subliminal hum from their voicebox causing them to be all the more hypnotizing.

The man to her left elbowed her a bit harder than was playful, snickering to himself as he mocked her. “Pwease! Such nice manners! What, mommy let you hit the town without her for once? Gotta remember your manners around strangers?” The cackling jackass had a few moments more to chuckle before a glass of water was dumped on his head, the bartender who held it glaring daggers.

“Hey, cunt, harassing the patrons is my job. Piss off back to the dancefloor or leave her alone. And yeah, one axe-murder, coming right up.” The aggressor opened his mouth to bitch about how his lovely satin button-down was soaking wet, but the bartender was already mixing up Esper James’s cocktail; he instead simply gave her a disgusted, contemptible look before hopping to his feet and making his way out to the floor.

Esper James watched him go with her tongue stuck out, emboldened by the bartender’s backup. She turned back to thank him, but the drink was being thrust towards her before she could even speak. “Here. Drink. Now. You already stick out like a lamb in a lion’s den; if you’re at least fucked-up on blood or booze you won’t attract assholes like him. ‘Least not in the same way.” She stared down at the concoction - rum, pig’s blood (or donor blood at high-class establishments), black pepper, and energy drink - and took a deep breath.

“Oh… Y-Yeah, sure. Thanks, by the way. My name’s Esper James, but most people ca-” She was cut off mid-sentence as he spoke, the words dieing in her throat as his trampled over them.

“Save it. I just met you. No need for introductions right yet. Now, bottoms-up. I’ll start you a tab, Esper James.” He was already typing her information into the cash-drawer, not even looking at her anymore. She didn't have the option to argue her point, at least not now.

Bottoms up. EJ was pathetically used to taking orders, and the drink goes back for a first sip like clockwork. Lips on the rim… The taste of blood on her lips, her tongue, her palate… Her senses flaring to shame a blazing pyre as it truly hit her. To the undead, the second-living, whom have been thrust into life anew, the remnants of ‘true’ life are euphoric to say the least. The flesh and blood of animals are second-rate compared to the forbidden thrill of human indulgence, to partake of one’s kin, but for a little wagie like Esper James it was top shelf. She shivered as it went down, the heat and tang of the additives making it smooth and sumptuous for her inhuman taste array.

Her muscle fibers swelled and became taut like a drum, every part of her shivering as the blood’s hormones, nutrients, and essence dribbled into her own cold veins. Her eyes dilated then contracted, stomach balling into a knot, skin becoming warm. She’d been starving herself, in a way - FixAte was a way to stave off cravings, but this was a way to satiate them, if only to a degree. The bartender watched like a bad influence as EJ’s body reacted to the drink, eyes catching upon her thin, soft lips, her flexing biceps and forearms and hands, and her slight shiver as the elixir ran through her. He smiled, dark goatee covering it partway, his fangs adorned with faux-silver to appear plated. The bartender then put himself down onto the counter, leaning upon crossed arms; to EJ’s surprise he spoke first without prompting, tearing her away from her momentary trance. His voice was rich and buttery now, the blood in her mouth and gullet and glass making her just that much more heightened in the sensory deluge. It didn’t help that it was crammed with booze and stimulants.

“Alright, little lamb, how is it? You’re lookin’ like you’re new to this thing, but somehow… No, I doubt it. But I can tell it’s been a while.” The bartender's eyes were back upon her, inky irises rolling up and down her petite frame. It wasn't the same predatory way some vampires would undress you with their eyes, but he was searching - watching the way her body reacted as the new blood contacted the old within her veins and gut, electrifying a tired physique.

EJ nodded and met those dazzling, swirling red eyes, even that tidbit of tincture bolstering her confidence. She took another sip before answering, her saliva thick with the heady, peppery, sweet blood, her lovely ivories covered with red. “It’s good, just what I needed; a little more pepper than I usually like, but-” The bartender laughed to himself, a bit more callous than simple mirth. He smiled a bit wider, giving EJ a wink.

“You’ll get used to it. A little pepper never hurt anyone. I’m Roth - nice to meet you. Welcome to the Jezze. Keep drinking that and you’ll grow up strong to play with the big boys and girls, ok?” EJ pouted at this, but still nodded along - she gave a gesture with her head to acknowledge his name, pout turning to a begrudging, cordial smile.

“Nice to meet you, Roth. I’m Esper James, but you already knew that, I guess.”

Pleasantries were exchanged, smalltalk following even as EJ felt her heart burning and her flesh moving in waves. Roth’s eyes mesmerized her just as easily as they did any human, and he was friendly; a bit sarcastic and more than a tad snarky, but otherwise much easier to talk to than anyone EJ had recently had the good luck of conversing with. She found herself smiling, laughing, wasting time… Wasting money. Tsang paid well, but only so many drinks could be viable, and she wasn’t a big girl to start with. Somewhere in the mix of booze, bass, and bartenders she was given a bone to chew, now sitting at the bar with her top button undone, tie askew, bone-in-mouth and phone sitting barely-attended on the bartop. She was about to ask for another drink despite her eyelids barely wanting to open or close when she ordered them when something caught her gaze, stopping her words in her mouth - a flash of bubblegum pink out on the dancefloor.

In the midst of thrumming sound and pulsing light, a splotch of pink stood out like blaze orange in a hunting-field. A woman was throwing herself around with wild abandon, getting up close and personal with various clubbers as she did: hips bumped on hips; laps were graced by a firm, barely-concealed ass; hands found bodies and bodies found one another. EJ watched her with mouth agape, studying her appearance, fair skin and pink hime cut complimenting a PVC and plastic ensemble bordering somewhere between cyberpunk and sex dungeon. The thick leather collar on her neck said ‘PURITY’ in large iron text, it’s leash-hook shaped like a heart. A snapped finger from Roth took EJ from her drunken, horny reverie - she hadn’t noticed how enamored she was until now, a few breaths cooling the roaring furnace within heart and loins. She pushed her drink away for a moment as Roth leaned in.

“Bad choice, lamb. She’s not your type. Hell, neither is this place, but I mean it - you’re just gonna get your heart broken at best.” His tone had turned paternal, protective; whatever he knew, he'd seen it before.

Esper James threw Roth an indignant glance, alcohol delaying her words a fair few moments as she worked them up and sent them forth. “Psh! Whad’d’you know? I can, uh… I can be cool too, I guess? ‘Sides, who I’m lookin’ at ain’t none of yer’ business!” Her tongue left her mouth in a childish gesture, but retracted with the sound of a yelp as Roth boldly and without hesitation reached out to snatch at it to chastise her.

“You’re like, what, an accountant? I hate to gatekeep, but bitch, this isn’t your scene. Maybe you’ll have some luck - she’s into dead people, so I hear - but you’re getting yourself in over your head either way.”

“Oh, fuck off. Why does no one have any god damn confidence in me?!” Without another word EJ pushed herself off her stool - nearly falling to the floor as her legs tottered - and straightened up, heading out onto the dancefloor.

‘This was a bad fucking idea’ was the first and foremost thought in her head almost immediately - the crush and swell of bodies cold and warm was cataclysmic against her meager form, the strength to push through only bestowed from the copious amounts of blood currently taking her physique to it’s physical limits. The scents, the sights, the sounds, the sensations, all of it came in the form of blatant sensory overload as the determined office girl ducked and wove between bumping and grinding, puking and passing out, and anything in-between. In Vitus, hedonism to the degree of self-destruction was standard fare for all walks of life; the only difference was the method. Finally, body damp with sweat and hair a tousled mess, she made it to where the object of her intoxicated affections was swaying her hips and seeking company. Moments ticked by in the blink of an eye while EJ thought of how to even approach, confidence draining away like abattoir excess while frantic eyes watched the other woman move - up until her counterpart opened her eyes, colored contacts hueing them a terrifying ice-white, and she smiled directly at the secretary.

In a whirl she was swept up by the idol’s black-gloved hands, the other woman standing at least half a foot taller than her and certainly less frail looking - she was curvaceous up close, her outfit revealing through translucent blacks and greys, her physique everything EJ’s was not. And yet, here she was: pulling the blonde around like a marionette, directing her drunken motions to involve her in the party rather than push her away. She smelled like sweet fruits, wine, and candy; she pulled EJ close to look into her eyes, pupils shaped like hearts, lips confectionery pink. Her voice was barely audible over the grinding industrial beat surrounding the pair, but EJ could make it out: her name was Purity, but Puri worked fine. Esper James stammered her own back drunkenly, and Puri laughed; she remarked that EJ was a cute name, fitting for a cute girl. EJ smiled in return, but the warmth in her face wasn’t the only place her still blood rushed.

Dancing became a blur - Puri was more than happy to oblige EJ’s curiosity and eagerness, and soon the ghoulette and the human were moving in time with one another as best one can to such music. If Puri could tell how bad EJ was burning up for her, she only added fuel to the fire; they spoke with their motions, their conversation salacious albeit almost one-sided. As the night progressed the crowd became thick and stifling, bodies packed like sardines - the pair finally took their leave back to the bar, where Roth had two drinks already awaiting them. His smile spoke more than words could when the weary wage-woman was helped to her stool, and the message was reinforced when her temporary tease tossed an arm about her shoulder and made their stools adjacent. Puri had something as fruity and pink as her hair in her cup - EJ had a bit of straight rum, to cut the blood-high from getting too overwhelming. Just as she was about to take a drink, Puri took EJ by the chin between two well-manicured fingers (thumb and fore) and gently swayed their gazes to meet.

“So… EJ. First off, great to meet you! You’re not bad on the dancefloor; I was getting worried that no one was gonna really give it their all, but you were a life saver out there~” Not true at all - EJ could barely dance on her own, and Puri pretty much guided her the whole time - but there’s no way in Hell that Ms. Price-Wynnfield would ever admit that. Not when her ego was being so thoroughly stroked. She beamed up at Puri with her bloody fangs in full view, red-flecked eyes half lidded from the action; seeing the signs of her monstrous nature only seemed to pull Puri in, not push her away as it did some humans.

“Hellllllll yeah! I’m a fuckin’ party girl all the way, boo - I’d never leave a cutie like you out to dry, haha!” Puri laughed at her counterpart’s comment, voice like a sonorous bell through the auditory shitheap that filled the club’s bar. She let go of EJ’s chin only to caress her cheek, the cool latex a stark contrast to the ghoul’s rosy flesh.

“A party girl, huh? I know what that means. I’d buy you a drink, but you seem pretty fucked up already - maybe I’ve got something else for you, yeah? You stay right here, let nice Mr. Roth keep you sitting up straight, and I’ll bring you a little gift for being my dance partner tonight~”

No way EJ was passing up an opportunity like that. Whatever this ‘gift’ entailed was going to be great, she could feel it - she nodded, but when she opened her mouth to answer, by time the sluggish words rolled across her tongue Puri had already disappeared into the furthest reaches of the club. Roth’s hand reached across the bar to steady EJ as she went to turn back to him, finally slipping in a drink of her glass of rum. It was toffee flavor.

“Look at you, little lamb - or should I say little lion? Going out after your first kill like that, haha! Maybe you’re not as soft as I thought… though I wouldn’t advertise it to everyone, y’know.” A gesture from Roth had Esper James’ sightline swinging down to her lap, where her skirt was propped up in a frankly humiliating fashion. She yelped as she went to adjust it, confidence taking a heavy blow as she considered that Puri had definitely been aware of just how ‘into’ their past hour or so EJ had been. Roth shook his head with a grin, rolling his eyes at her reddening face. EJ tried to distract herself from her shame with something else - the drink in her hands, to be exact. She sipped it again, smacking her lips before questioning Roth.

“So… Where, uh, where’s this from? Did I buy this?”

“Nope,” said he, head jerking towards something further down the bar, “someone bought you one. How thoughtful of him. I closed your tab after the last one you bought, since you seemed like you had had enough, but one last drink to end out the night didn’t seem too bad… At least not when you’ve got a hot date to impress, right?” More laughter, but this time it made EJ feel better, not worse.

She decided to check down towards where Roth had gestured - looking to see a vampire with a long blonde mohawk, sharp features, and a smile like a predator hunting prey (all vampires kind of looked that way, though). He winked at EJ, who waved back in return before promptly trying to hide herself from view as best she could without making a scene. She looked to Roth for some kind of reaction, but he was helping another customer… and again, for the first time in hours, EJ felt small and weak and helpless. Her hands trembled as the adrenaline of it all started to melt from her and the alcohol took its place, her timid heart sapped of it’s previous stupefied strength. She was alone again - if only for a bit - with a stranger watching her.

She looked down at her own reflection in the rum, taking it in: she was disheveled, tired, and sweaty. She was drunk, too, and her eyes were becoming bloodshot. Another sip, then another look: she was exhausted, to tell the truth, and sore from the dancing. She wanted to go home and lay in her big comfy bed, and she wanted to wake up fresh and clean. Sip. Look. She wasn’t even interested in getting laid anymore - she just wished she could hop in a taxi and get home, but fear gripped her heart like a primal claw at the idea of being in her neighborhood alone at night, especially while drunk as hell. Another sip… and she nearly fell off her chair, staggering backwards without even realizing she was disoriented. She only stayed aloft by virtue of a pair of gloved hands which held her by either shoulder, shifting to embrace her from behind as their owner pushed EJ back up and slipped closer. It smelled like candy - Puri, of course, was back.

“Woah, hey! You ok, sweetie? You don’t look so hot; I mean, you know, like, health-wise. Here, just rest in my arms for a little bit. I got you that gift. I’ll give it to you in a second, once you’re a bit steadier…” EJ tried to mumble a response, surprising even herself that her lips and face felt so fucking heavy. The world around her seemed to be made of heavy water or syrup, and Puri’s words came echoing through her noggin and dulled by the pounding of blood in her eardrums. Piercing the fog, the pink-haired partier’s face was painted with concern - initially light, then quickly serious. “Wow, shit, you’re really fucked, huh? Come on, come on… Stand up, even a little. I’ll support you. Let’s get you out to some fresh air, ok? No more club for a little bit… you need to focus, just take deep breaths and focus on staying awake.”

EJ blinked and they were out the door - another blink and she was sitting on the ground in the alleyway which led to the Jezze’s entrance, Puri holding her in her lap while a few blurry individuals hung around them and inspected the office gal. Water was given to her, then some snacks, then a cigarette that Puri slapped away and yelled something muffled about. EJ couldn’t care less - she was warm, being held by a cute woman, head resting on her supple chest, ass resting on her luscious lap, brain fogged like a broken smoke machine, being fed and watered without needing to do ANY work. It was awesome, in a way. And then… darkness.

When EJ’s eyes opened again, she was in a cab, head laying on Puri’s lap. Then again, being hauled up the stairs somewhere - somewhere that wasn’t her apartment. If she wasn’t so lethargic she’d be screaming with panic at that alone, but she couldn’t even muster a whimper. She blinked again, and now she was in bed - dressed in oversized pajamas, the lights dimmed, a warm body in lingerie sitting beside her and stroking her hair. Puri again; she could tell by the smell. Her sight may go and her hearing may fade, but EJ couldn’t forget a scent. She managed one small whine before collapsing into her savior-captor, heavy eyelids dragging her down and shutting what eyesight she could procure like a heavy gate.

-

Esper James dreamed of a cat - a large, imposing cat, a housecat but feral for generations. In the savannah, they had the lion and the cheetah; in the highlands, the cougar; in the jungles, the tiger. Here, in the city, where rot and blood and smog and booze and money and bodies all flowed in the same river, there was this beast: this enormous, midnight-blue-almost-black creature with great yellow eyes and fur as thick as a bear’s and then some. It stalked Vitus in the night and slept in the morning, leaving a trail of strangeness and fear wherever it tread; it’s victims were changed beyond compare, if they even survived the encounter.

Something told EJ it was looking for her.