With Sarain all geared up, she left the house moving hastily; she had gotten a late start and needed to move faster so that her scent would be away from her dwelling by nightfall. She also had to get downtown to the club on foot, and even with her speed, it would take a while. She went everywhere on foot, a car was too pricy and too easy to track. In addition, it would limit where she could go and was too noticeable when following someone or something. It would also be an inconvenience to have to continuously go back to a car if she left it to go on foot. When she left cities, she’d pack up what few things she had, and take a bus to her next destination.
Sarain still had to figure out if she should keep Kit in school; she had never been to a traditional school herself, being part of a nomadic clan. She had been home schooled and then later self-taught. She could try and teach Kit; she most likely had to if she were to keep moving from city to city. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to be a parent, if that was what she would be; she figured herself more as a teacher, like what she had grown up with.
Sarain looked up at the sky; the clouds blocked the moon tonight, just a glimpse here and there between them. A gentle breeze picked up, the wind felt good against her skin, soft through her hair. She wasn’t one for touching people; she didn’t crave physical contact like so many other people do. It could have been because of her line of work; seeing evil and cruelty on such a regular basis didn’t leave you longing to be touched. But she also could never understand why people felt the need to paw at one another; she thought it distasteful, especially in times when no love was involved. The caress of the cool night air was enough for her.
After a long trek and a lot of time to think, Sarain finally came upon The Purge. It was already open and the large guard was once again standing at the door. She didn’t bother to wait and contemplate going in tonight, not after having been spied by Winston previously. She marched straight up to the entrance, and this time when the guard glanced at her it was followed by him opening the door for her. His eyes gave the impression that he recognized her from the night before, but he didn’t say anything nor did his face make an expression. Sarain decided to pay no mind to the guard. She would worry later whether or not to check him out, but her vibes told her that he was human. There wasn’t a particular thing that stood out about him as being human, but just a feeling that she had. She moved passed him and went inside.
Inside the warehouse-turned-club was fairly crowded, but with the vaulted ceiling and the size itself, it was rather spacious. The dance floor was huge, and looked so shiny that it was almost reflective. It also had a cage with dancers at each corner. The lighting was dim, but colorful; the track lighting seemed to be on a twinkling-like setting, similar to Christmas tree lights. At one end of the club was a large bar with many bartenders and on the wall behind them was a hefty stock of alcohol. The music was some techno beat unknown to Sarain, and it blasted so loudly that you could barely hear anything else. Most people there were intoxicated, dancing wildly, and the majority of the women were dressed in revealing clothing despite it being a slightly colder night. Sarain herself didn’t wear her trench coat that night; it would have made her stand out far too much. This meant she had to bring a much smaller knife, a switch blade, over her machete. She wore a plain fitted black long sleeve shirt with charcoal gray jeans with her long black wavy hair hanging freely; she undoubtedly was a lot more conservatively dressed than the other women there, but she didn’t care, she looked casual enough to blend in and not sexy enough to stand out.
Sarain made her way through the room; with the crowd and the noise it would be hard for her to find out any information on this puzzling Winston character. She had to learn his connection to Nate and if he too was a vil sang, perhaps even the beast that turned Nate. So far there was no sign of him, but his behavior the night before with the guard made it seem as though he was there often. Her eyes searched over the faces on the dance floor, but didn’t see his.
There had to be a better way of doing this, the thought occurred to Sarain. She had his name; if he truly was a regular, then others there might know him.
She moved towards the bar, and sat at an empty stool. She waited for a bartender to become free. Who better to recognize a regular than someone who worked there, but every employee stayed steadily busy. Sarain got up, leaned over the counter to be heard, concentrated her attention on one of the female bartenders, and said, “Can you help me? I’m looking for a man.”
The bartender shook her head and replied, “Lady, I’m too busy to deal with your personal issues,” and continued to take customers orders.
Sarain sat back in her seat and sighed, then heard a chuckle to her right. She turned to see the culprit and saw the half drunken woman sitting next to her staring back at her. The woman’s makeup was runny from sweat and her eyes looked glazy, she wore a flashy silver dress that Sarain thought was way too short. She smiled at Sarain and remarked, “Aren’t we all looking for a man?”
Sarain realized that the woman misunderstood her; she quickly rectified the mistake and responded, “I’m actually looking for someone in particular.”
“Who you lookin’ for, I’m here a lot, I might know him?” the woman asked with curiosity.
“I’m looking for a blond man named Winston,” Sarain answered hoping to finally have some luck.
The woman nodded and said, “Yeah, I’ve seen him around, but you don’t want him. I hear he hangs out at that sleazy Velvet Rose place up north, you know, that whore house.”
“How did you find this out,” Sarain questioned, trying to figure out how reliable her tip was.
“Well, I have to admit, he is a hottie with those pretty eyes of his. I asked a girlfriend of mine who knew a guy who sometimes hung with him, what he was into, and she said he said that your Winston friend, strictly liked to keep things impersonal, and liked to go to the Velvet Rose to get his jollies off,” the woman replied like a gossiping schoolgirl, then added, “It’s a shame, he really is gorgeous.”
“Yup, a shame,” Sarain repeated in a sarcastic manner that was meant for only herself to understand. The tip didn’t look very dependable, but Sarain didn’t have anything else to go on. It couldn’t hurt to check it out; Winston didn’t appear to be at the club anyway.
Sarain thanked the woman, and left the bar. She made her way back through the crowd heading to the entrance, and thought how extremely un-thrilled she was about checking out a brothel; she couldn’t possibly picture a great outcome there. Either she was dealing with a perverted man, or a vil sang… who may also be a pervert.
Sarain found herself on yet another long trek, this time heading north to the ill-famed Velvet Rose. She had heard of it before, even killed a demon or two in its area. It was another one of those places that the cops never seemed to shut down. The crime-lords of this city ran most of the big businesses, Sarain didn’t like it, but she also didn’t bother with human transgressions, so just let things be.
She plotted while she hiked; she couldn’t just go busting into the Velvet Rose, their customers were typically men, and she couldn’t pretend to work there or want to work there, because that would be too weak of a cover, and probably wouldn’t work. She thought she remembered seeing a balcony window on the third floor; it stood out in her mind because it was the only window that hadn’t been bricked up. She could try getting in through there.
Sarain’s thoughts wandered back to the drunken woman at The Purge, fawning over how attractive she thought Winston was; Sarain hadn’t even noticed; she had stopped observing people’s attractiveness a long time ago. She had picked up on his arrogance though; it was a behavior she had always despised in individuals, especially in those who had no real value in character.
While thinking, Sarain realized that she really had never exchanged much conversation with a vil sang before, apart from whatever she needed to determine a person’s status, whether it was demonic or not. But aside from that, she didn’t know too much about a vil sang’s behavior; all she really needed to know was that they killed humans, so she killed them. Although, she was beginning to wonder how much of their human personality they kept after becoming a vil sang.
The night was growing late, and Sarain could smell the scent of rain in the air; a storm was coming. The clouds lowly rumbled above and it began to sprinkle. She picked up speed, rushing to reach the Velvet Rose before the storm came down in its fullness. She weaved down streets and through alleys, whichever way would get her there faster. She raced, running at incredible speed, with the droplets of rain getting heavier. The Velvet Rose was just ahead; Sarain stopped and crept up, staying against the side of a building in the shadows. She would not let herself be seen this time, she needed to be able to catch Winston in his natural routine, and she didn’t want him to see her coming. She slinked towards the building and was soon standing beside it staring up at the balcony window she remembered. It was indeed three stories up, and there wasn’t a dumpster or trashcan around to stand on.
This might be more difficult than previously estimated, Sarain pondered. Her eyes then settled on the building next to it, it was close enough to use. The buildings were only five feet apart making it a small alley way. She looked up, the neighboring building was too high to safely jump from, but she still had another way. She pressed her back against the wall of the Velvet Rose, then bent her knee and put her right foot against it as well. With a deep breath to prepare herself, she quickly kicked off and lunged herself at the other building, twisting her body mid way. Her feet hit it and kicked off again, pushing her upward. She spun her body around, and her feet hit the Velvet Rose, she jolted off again, and again, and once more; each sending her shooting upward till she finally leaped onto the balcony.
Sarain’s heart raced from adrenaline, she took a moment to calm herself, and then peered through the lacy curtain on the other side of the glass. The room was dark, but the door was open and a light was on down the hall. The coast looked clear, now she only had to get inside.
Lightning flashed with a booming crack, the rain poured down stronger now, and Sarain got the idea that perhaps she could mask the sound of breaking glass by hitting the window when the thunder banged. She would have to kick in the window, running the risk of injuring herself since she didn’t have her machete to bash it in with. Then an epiphany came to her, she tried the handle and the door slid open. She figured that the occupants would assume that no one would be able to get up to a third story balcony, so then they wouldn’t worry about locking it.
She stepped inside, walking lightly so not to make the floor creak. She reached the door and peeked out into the hall; it was empty. She wondered how she would find Winston, if he was even there; she would have to search room by room. There were two other doors on this floor, she slowly crept to the first one, and noticed that the door was fitted with an old fashioned key lock, which meant a keyhole.
Sarain could hear someone shuffling from inside the room; she brought her eye down to the keyhole and peered through it. Two women were entertaining a short bald man, who definitely wasn’t Winston. She turned her head away, she had seen enough. She moved to the next door, it stood ajar, and upon inspection she found that it was empty. She moved to the staircase; she had to be careful, wooden staircases were notorious for creaking upon stepping. Another deep breath before going, then she swiftly sprinted down the stairs, barely touching and staying on a single step. The stairs had slightly groaned, but not one real cracking sound.
The second floor hallway started around the corner from the stairwell. Sarain listened first to see if she could hear anyone moving down the hallway. The sound of high heels were retreating away from her direction, she heard a door squeak open and then a soft thud afterwards. She waited a bit; it was quiet, so she checked around the corner, down the hall. Empty, the coast was clear.
This hallway also had doors to three rooms; the first room was dark and vacant. She crept to the next room, the door was closed and light shined through the keyhole. She hesitated to look after her last act of voyeurism, but decided that she had to and gazed through. A young woman was inside with a middle-aged man, the woman was dressed up in a schoolgirl uniform and spanking the man with a ruler. Sarain saw something sparkle and realized that the man was wearing a wedding band. She found this more disturbing than what they were actually doing. She closed her eyes before things got graphic, and moved away from the door. While she knew that she wasn’t the one being betrayed by the man, she still felt the feeling of hate rising in the pit of her stomach. In her line of work she saw beasts in many shapes and forms, and though this man may not be demonic, he was still just another monster to her.
Sarain moved on to the last door on the floor. The door was slightly open, just a crack, and candlelight flickered from inside. As she approached, she heard a woman moan. She braced herself for any explicit act she may see next. She reached the door and glanced in. The room was mostly dark; the few candles didn’t give off much light. The forms of a man and woman were entwined on the bed; they were moving to rhythm and seemed too engrossed to notice Sarain peeking through the doorway.
The man started kissing the woman’s neck, and Sarain began to move on from the door. Then something caught her eye; a sudden glimpse of blue. She stopped, and looked again. The man was Winston, but more importantly, the blue was from his brightly colored eyes, which Sarain probably wouldn’t have seen in the dark if it wasn’t for the fact that they were glowing. He bit into the woman’s neck, but continued to move his body with hers. Winston was without a doubt a vil sang, however Sarain hesitated to attack. The woman appeared fine, she was still alive, and didn’t seem startled by the blood sucking act. The woman was a willing participant, and had to be human because her eyes did not illuminate. Winston removed his fangs from the woman’s throat, and then kissed her again. She put her hands on his back and tried to pull him down to her. He leaned in, and then looked up at Sarain.
Sarain’s body went cold as she met his icy stare. His eyes glowed with passion; he gazed at her without expression, his mouth still smudged with blood. She didn’t look away, and he kept his eyes on her. The other woman didn’t appear to notice, she was too enthralled in the act to realize that Winston’s attention was elsewhere. Sarain’s hand tightened around her knife; she didn’t want him looking at her, but he remained staring. Finally the woman brought her hands up to Winston’s face and pulled him down for a kiss, breaking his gaze. When he broke from the woman’s lips, his eyes went back to the doorway, but Sarain was gone.