China in Gold

It was more about the fact that we meet here than anywhere else, that made my hands grip the rough inside fabric of my coat. Mark always said there were more times to reinvent yourself in a world like this. But coming here was not it for me, and most definitely not for him. But that isn't to say that I didn't expect him to do this, his daughter's head was unattached from her body, just as she had been when she was alive and well.

But this is a family business, and I was the lucky one to be considered part of it. Well, I might be making that a stretch. 

So with hands clutching my pocket, I make my way through the darkness. Only seeing glimmers of shimmering bodies glowing in the blue neon lights. Though the other place didn't have the streaked lights that stayed still then went wild the next, what it did share was the unearthly moving of bodies around me.

Soft bellies are vulnerable to me. Backs arching off the walls, long bodies with ethereal white skin, making the neon lights heightened and filling my vision, where all else was black. But it wasn't only the clinking of clothing made of tethered fake gems and the moaning that came from their owners that terrified me most. It was the fact that their eyes were shown. Hues are forbidden to humans illuminated the floor: burning purples, unholy whites, pure turquoise, and, most shockingly, gold. 

It was rare to see one of those here. The ones with gold in their eyes were never here; those where the forbidden ones, if anything. 

I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth, having enough being tossed around by these creatures. And made a point to shove forward the bodies pushing me back, or else I would end up in a place I don't want to be.

Pushing my way through the damp, dancing bodies, I find my way through the mass. Further from the outside world, from my security. I would take walking down a darkened ally anytime compared to this place. Honestly, it is ensuring death to a human if they came here. But I am the benefit of the doubt.

Nearing the end of the thick of the swaying bodies, I notice the small, dimly lit hallway covered in those dangling red beads that make it a curtain. That, my friend, was the only other way to ensure my security. If I can just pass through those curtains…

But something tight wrapped around my arm, I jerk back. What bastard trying to eat me this time. I quickly think before the handheld on my bicep became my other, which would lead me into deep shit. As speedily as I can, I gripped—what I figured out was a girl—her wrist with my other hand making sure her grip on me loosened first before I did anything else. Then, finding the once tight grip now a weak hold on me, I ducked beneath her, twisting her wrist as hard as I can because these Strigoi had more strength than was good for them. 

And I have to say, there isn't a day where I don't regret my training. 

Because if I didn't know who these creatures were, if I didn't realize their beauty was deadly or that the supernaturals do exist, then life would've been sucked out of me to death. 

Though another night for me, death would work better than tonight, because tonight, I need to stay alive.

A loud, female cry came from her as she then fell to her knees by my swift kick and with both arms held behind her back. I made sure she stayed where she was.

"I thought you were better at this than I am." I said, my grip firm.

A dry laugh erupted from the woman, "Oh, believe me, I am. You just caught me on a bad night." Emma turned her head to reveal those vibrant green eyes while the rest of her face was covered by tangled hair. But somehow, I knew she was ginning. I find myself with one too.

"Did Mark sent you here to scare me? Or to make sure you got a beating?"

"You don't need me to say it, because who can beat the great Scena Rhodes?"

"Shut up. You know how stupid that sounds."

"But true it is. Now, let me go, I'll take you to Mark and the rest."

I kept her hold for a second longer, finding satisfaction that I beat Emma once again in our little tag game. But keeping him waiting was the last thing I should do tonight, so I let go.

Emma instantly stood before her, the golden locks of hair less tangled and her tiny dress fixed so that it now barely managed to cover her ass. Not matter, because I knew her boyfriend would wrap a coat around her waist just for her. Sometimes, I think he is too good for Emma. But being her best friend and saying that aloud are two things that shouldn't, under any circumstance, be said. She could kill me without a blink if I was vulnerable.

Unaware of what was running through my head, her luminescent green eyes lifted, matching her cheeky smile. She grabbed my hand and pranced through the beaded screen. That was the only thing separating these two worlds. Though they were run by the same people who come to this club, they were different. More human, but if I wasn't careful, I could forget that they weren't and regret it.

Still holding my hand, Emma's narrow hips swayed as we traveled down the poorly lit hallway with bright red painted walls. Looking closely at the walls, I could tell how this was a Chinese restaurant. Chipped and stained, the red paint was also covered in these fading but elaborate drawings of cropped lands with farmers. Fallen kingdoms with beggars on their knees. The Great Wall of China, and it's being built on the bones of the overworking. So it all became twisted, twining with the history of the Strigoi. Because their history also started here, to where the man's normal black eyes became a variety of hues, much like the ones I saw in the room before. 

To the point where the armies of China were transformed into the troops of the Strigoi. Their fangs out, white skin covered in blood, and their eyes tearing with revenge. That I recognized was the first war their kind ever went through. Deranged and starving, Strigoi were withheld and tortured for so long they went on a lust for blood for even centuries after this war. Mark would always say that humans were the ones that made them monsters, not the other way around.

Knowing we were nearing the end of the hall, I stayed closer to Emma, she seemed to think the same thing as she pulled me even closer. The drawings seemed to fade into the dark-stained walls, like the blood of the mortal men lost in the war. But the King leading the Strigoi is rumored to still be alive. People didn't know much, just that he or his successor had those rare golden eyes, the hue of everlasting fire. They also say if you truly look into his eyes, you can see your death.

I, for that matter, am nowhere eager to see this "King" of theirs. Because even if they killed thousands for the right reason, what use is it if you become the monster? And that was precisely the reason why I met up with Mark, Emma, and the others.

Not noticing Emma came to a stop, I nearly fell to the floor as my body hit her unmoving one. And her hand, that was holding mine dropped.

"Why did-" I said, not realizing that what she saw before her was not only the door to their conference room ajar but of a pool of blood coming from underneath.

My heart, not understanding enough or too little, jumped at the sight. I have seen men cry as they are disemboweled, monsters feeding on children in the night, neon eyes shimmering in pleasure as they found their perfect pray. I have even seen my damn parents killed. My brother's soul gone from his body, and almost..but, I stopped that from happening.

But this…

Emma reached out a hand. A tumbling one. Her fingers twining with the rusted metal of the doorknob and pushed it gently. I stepped beside her, quiet on my feet, and saw it. Saw why her face became a tragedy, mouth open, body shuttering, eyes frowning with tears at its corners. She was a mess from the mess of blood scattered on the walls, the heads still rolling off the floor, mouths wide in a now ghostly scream. Their bodies are torn into shreds—organs here, and there as their bodies intertwined and mixed in each other's remains.

This is what became of the resistance. This is why we had to try to keep this group a secret. Because we knew one day we would be killed, either by supporters of the deceased King or of the horror that we would want to completely reshape their kind. Because we knew we wanted Strigoi to live a life in peace, we wanted them to stop killing humans and but more so, animals. But no, good hearts die young in this world of ours. 

My throat, choked on the stench of blood, made me gag. Making me near throw up my dinner in front of me. Instead, I just stood still, frozen as Emma, now kneeling in front of her once whole lover choked on her sobs. Brushing the brown hair from his once youthful and handsome face, now turned rotten. I wanted to step to her but couldn't.

Not when I saw all of them here and gone. Some dust to the hard wind as the open window let in a light breeze. No doubt that is where Mark left, his body well over the age where any existence of him should have been gone. 

And so, I took a step into the room, not caring that I stepped onto blood, whoever it was. And just watched Emma soothe her dead lover. Watched as she kept tucking his hair, rocking his head against her chest. Then seeing as the dark space behind her moved. Observed a large, scarred hand reach out. 

Watched, as the hand became an arm, then chest, and legs. His face blocked by shadows was all that I could see. All that I could do—as this took a matter of two seconds. Elegance and the radiance boomed from him, showing his face; cheekbones high, lips flush red with blood, and hair, black as the night sky. But I saw his eyes, he had the eyes of gold.

I moved, opened my mouth as I tried to call out to Emma before, but found him too quickly as his hand found its way to Emma's neck and separated it from her body with his bare fangs. Leaving her also, in an everlasting scream along with her lover.

And then there was terrible screaming, a loud and shilling one. One that told of remorse and life long-lived. Lost, it sounded lost as I found myself on my knees because Emma was all I had ever known. They were all I ever have known. I screamed harder, knowing I was the one who was in agony.

At least until, until a gentile hand slide under my chin, skin soft as silk, white as milk, made me look up at its owner. That handsome face became a horror to behold as he gave a deathly smile, blood running down his chin. And he turned his head, hand now rubbing her cheek, like a cat curious for its prey.

So I looked into his, finding more of myself in them than I should. Seeing his face more familiar as I look into it. Finding a commonality within his gaze. I jerk, realizing he is what I have lost, the brother I killed, the brother I tried to save from this very fate.

As if noticing her realization, he whispered, "Can you keep a secret?"