Blood & Juniper

Accounts of Sam, October 2017.

We exit the private lounge room. The sound system blasts the low wailing alarm. The seductive radio announcer, a climax drumming and the buzzing horde fight to be heard.

Murphy's Law, as always. Everything that can go wrong will and it always does. This is not my night.

Blood harvest… Blood Harvest! We're here during this demented festival. Damn it! Is it really the full moon? That explains the amplified hunger and the massive crowd. They've lured some extra expendables for the festival of blood. Great… I've been duped by overcast. We're in the most anarchy ridden club on the most sinful night of the year.

I've got five to ten minutes to get us out before the massacre. And we're clear on the other side of the club. Oh, joy.

'You can do this. Get her out. Simple.'

I pull Ash securely to me, ready to battle the rabble. I scan for the most unrestricted paths farther from the dancefloor. Unfortunately the chaos has spread beyond its confines. The place is crawling with living and undead.

I hold her hand tightly, working my way around some swaying humans, wasted and utterly blitzed from the abundance of cheap and free alcohol offered to all mortals. Stumbling sacrifices, basically.

I hope it was a good night for them because on Blood Harvest more than half of these humans won't walk out of here alive.

How does Allure get away with a mini genocide? By spending half the year preparing for the biyearly event, of course. Collecting and hooking foreigners from all over the country, sometimes internationally. Less locals, less suspicion. Pretty diabolical when you actually stop and think about it.

And there are humans here that fully aware of the violence and murder that will ensue. Their ignorant and less fortunate human comrades will be slaughtered. If I wasn't holding hands with the last beacon of hope, I'd really believe the concept of 'humanity' to be extinct.

I shove my way through a cl.u.s.ter of patrons, it's like wading through a swamp of cold honey, painstakingly slow.

There's a thunderous cheering when the countdown is announced. We need to hurry. Humans 'in the know' are distancing themselves from the main event as the cage descends. They're batshit for being here on Blood Harvest at all; it's a serious health hazard for anyone with a pulse.

My potential pathways are being obstructed by the teeming blockade. I grind my teeth together, hungry and on edge. All I want is the exit, damn all of you!

Blood spikes the air, impatient leeches or squishy mortals getting battered in the commotion. I am becoming more agitated by each passing second. I force myself to ignore the burning in my eyes and the barren desert in my throat. 'Get her out. Endure, don't over complicate this.'

Ashlen is distracted, she trips over herself, likely preoccupied with the smell. She's got to be hungry, too. This isn't good.

I holler over the noise, "Ash, pay attention. Don't lose focus, now!"

'Just a little further, I'm going to- Ouch! Son of a bitch!'

A vampire rams into me and I lean into it so Ash isn't thrown backwards on impact. A shoulder crunches uncomfortably into my sternum. This space was empty just a second ago! What is going on, a supernatural mosh pit, a group fight? And I tell her to pay attention… 'How about taking your own advice, Sam.'

Another body is hurtling toward me, I'm ready for this one, deflecting the force and rolling him aside. Perfect… More are coming my way, it never stops. Whatever this is I'm being pulled into it.

I make the split decision to separate from Ashlen. I swivel away from recalcitrant fist soaring over my head.

An elbow follows, flying at my temple. I duck under it and yell, "Ash! Run for the exit!"

'Please. Please get out before the cage drops.'

I jump out of the way as two ticked off bloodsuckers brawl, bowling past in a whir of fangs and claws. I'm shoved from behind and roll sideways, landing back on my feet smoothly. Just what I needed, to be pushed into the center of this incomprehensible skirmish. It appears to be a mix of moshing and fighting, and I'm in the mood for neither.

Why do I have such a talent for getting s.u.c.k.e.d into these things without effort! I snarl as another man throws a fist. I push it past my head, spinning to his backside with a hearty shove to his shoulder blade.

Claws whip at my cheek, the nails sting across. I dip, forcing my shoulder into the offender's rib cage. A woman coughs and stumbles to stay upright.

I avoid some more flailing arms and thrashing heads. It's hard to tell who's mearly headbanging and who intends to knock your teeth in.

Air flexes as an arm swings the leg of a barstool targeting my face.

"Shit!" I hiss through my teeth leaning back on my heels. I go cross eyed watching the wood furniture fizzle past. It's a centimeter away from taking my nose clean off.

The chair smacks some unlucky sod in the back of the head, shattering into splitters and sending the victim sprawling. I'm socked hard in the gut as a consolation prize for missing the chair. The hell! A bunch of merciless heathens!

I growl, now I'm flat out pissed! I swing and shove my way out in flurry, knocking two or three out of my way. A brutish vampire charges at me like a preternatural linebacker. I only have time to brace for the tackle as his arms encircle and trap my abdomen. Do I have the appearance of someone who wants to pick a fight? What gives?

Cloudy mugs and stemmed glasses jump in the air as we roll over a tabletop, glass smashes again the cold floor in a thousand tinkling shards. We tip the entire thing over, pumpetting into the chairs like a pile of leaves. Wood and metal clatter, scraping in the heap.

I roll over the debris with a groan, a bit sore, I'm definitely going to feel that for the next five minutes. I resist the urge to knock the moron unconscious or throttle him. I, instead, exercise restraint and attempt to escape the battle ground, crawling under an upright table. Priorities, not fighting, getting out. Focus.

A hand latches onto my ankle to drag me back into the mix. I've had it! I flip around and pounce on the owner of the hand.

"Damn it, I don't have time for this!" I roar, sending a fist into a boy's jaw. I hold him upright by the collar of his shirt to punch him again for good measure. I'm giving into my hankering for violence and it's really not the time.

Fighting is only drawing more attention to me, they're attracted to my aggression. I calculate the group stalking in for a piece and notice opening for escape. I toss the boy into three of the new challengers and dive out of the circle. I'm out of that hell pit, finally!

I sneak around, ducking low and weaving fast until I'm far from that mayhem. That's what you get with essentially no rules, occasional lunacy.

I search desperately for Ashlen, glancing at the exit. Did she get out? I have a horrible feeling she didn't.

I survey the crowd, taking in the multitude of fragrances smashing into my senses like an unstoppable boulder. There's so much blood in the air and the event hasn't actually started yet.

I examine the hanging cage, it's is more than halfway to the dancefloor. The chain is cl.i.c.k.i.n.g and ticking like a time bomb.

I spot a flash of golden brown hair under the cage. No, no, no. Am I imagining things? There are others with similar hair color to hers, I'm psyching myself out, thinking the worst.

Someone is practically dragging the girl onto the dance arena. The long loose hair flips in a gust and twirls at the ends as the girl wriggles out of the leader's grip. The perfume of oranges tickles my nose. 'Yes, I'm on the dancefloor, Sam,' it seems to taunt. That can't be her…

I catch a glimpse of her face as she tries to scurrying away only to be misdirected by male vampire. That looks a lot like Ash and she may have attracted company that doesn't want to let her go. This is unbelievable! The universe has it out for us!

"Last call. You won't want to miss this," the announcer eggs the crowd like teasing lover, "The cage stops for no one, you better get in that circle."

'I better get Ash out of that circle before she's trapped in there!' I'm scrambling, pushing at this point. I feel a little bad plowing these mortals over like wobbling toddlers but there's much worse in store for them. The vampire's are annoyingly stiff by comparison, I appreciate the ones that shift out of my way before I get there. Most are capable of it but they just don't give a shit.

A tall man snarls before I can brush past, whirling around and digging his long hasty fingers into my forearm. He spits through his teeth getting in my face, "In a hurry, Asshole?"

He better let go, I don't have the patience for this! I b.a.r.e my teeth instinctively and snap, "Move aside!"

I see a flash of apprehension twitch in his eyebrow before it's smoothed over with a dirty look. I must look half sane, I feel it. My eyes are blazing and I easily imagine tearing this guy's throat out with my teeth. I'll give him two seconds to let go.

Luckily for both of us, he releases my arm, I waste no time continuing my hunt. I know I'm being too aggressive, bulldozing everyone like a lunatic but there is no chance I'll be able to calm down until Ashlen is safe.

I've got her scent, it's absolutely her. The cranks of the cage are rattling threateningly close as I pass under. We are out of time!

I'm tearing through the crowd tracking her perfume like a hunting dog.

"No… No this isn't right. You don't understand. I can't be here! I have to leave!" I recognize Ashlen's panicked and confused voice.

I spot her in the mass, two intoxicated vampires are messing with her. Everytime she attempt to get away they spin her in a different direction or pull her back. I tune into the conversation and keep them within my line of sight the best I can as I hustle over.

"Yooo are so fuunny," the obviously drunk brunette roars without reserve, "Here mmmgo!"

The hammered brunette and her tipsy male companion play hot potato with a plastered human. She pushes the human into Ashlen like chucking a basketball. Ash freezes up as the disoriented drunkard falls into her, grabbing at her shirt and hair in uncoordinated coils.

The brunette slurs, "Noobody-one is gonna carriff… Care if yooo shample biffore it starts."

Ashlen clenches her teeth, trying peel the clumsy liability off of her. She pleads through the strain, "Please, stop this. Listen to me!"

"Here, here. I'll bite him first. Then you can have him," the less drunk male ignores her, pulling both Ash and the dizzy human to him.

"Let go of her," I take hold of Ashlen's arm drilling a glare into the vampire, he's surprisingly tidy looking for being under the influence. He has the resemblance a GI Joe replica.

Relief washes over Ashlen's features when she sees me. She latches herself into me, burying her face in my c.h.e.s.t. I instinctively throw an arm around her and immediately feel more rational having her close. Not as violent or crazy, thank my lucky stars, being out of control like that is worrying.

The guy eyes me, a bit startled by my hostility. He then slumps in disappointment, "Ahh, Trix… Your v.i.r.g.i.n is claimed. Bummer."

I peer up at the cage to determine the closest route of escape. The announcer is cautioning people away from the cage's edge, I can't see the bottom hovering above the sea of heads anymore. At most, it's only five feet off the ground and that's if we're lucky.

"Heee chan prey too! We'll prey witha togethzer," I ignore the brunette's drunken babble, scooping Ash into my arms and making a Beeline for the closest section to the bared cage.

The plastered female jeers as I rush away, "Boo! Yooo virshin theiff! Yerz no fun!"

"Ash, can you hear me?" I keep running, sliding in between bodies littering the arena as I speak.

Her head bobs against me, her voice is a little breathless, "Yes, I'm listening."

I instruct her, "The cage is really low, we may have to slide under it. As soon as I put you down you, get out. Don't hesitate, don't worry about anything else. Just get out."

"Ok."

We're so close, almost out of here!

*clang*

The cage shudders as it touches down. The crowd roars, going crazy, a throbbing music begins to ramp up in tempo.

We didn't make it. We are too late.