Vampyres; Chronicles of New York

Vampyres; A Road Called Hemorrhage

Hemorrhage was most renowned for not only it's ghastly name, but it's reputation. It lived up to its name; the walls and streets were smeared with blood nobody had bothered to wash away, pipes and bins festering with pieces of flesh nobody wanted to recognise. The police left the streets alone and the people acted like it didn't even exist. It was a popular gang street, they told tourists.

"Stay away from Hemorrhage Road."

That was, of course, the lies weaved into a society too afraid to face it's own demons. A soft whistling sound howled down the Road as the moon was rising, and after that, only the rabble sounds and the warm, sickly smells were enough to warn you that the Road was a danger.

Emmi walked her way down it, eyes scaling up and down the tall brick buildings on either side. The road was narrow, barely enough for two, dirty and unkept. The gravel of the path was torn up and grabbed at the heels of her shoes, dragging her in and forcing her to kick her way out. She spat under her breath. Curse this road.

"Curse this road indeed." 

Emmi spun instinctively and cried out, losing her footing as her heel gave way below her. She slipped down onto one knee, clutching her ankle, forgetting about the creeping voice to focus on the racing pain in her ankle. Her leg was bent half the way, shoe still stuck in the ground, and she gritted her teeth in disgust. She could almost feel her lips turning white from the sight of her own body, twisted. She whimpered slightly and pulled, flinching and slipping forward in pain.

"Stuck? That's a real shame. Been out? Partying? You been drinking my dear?"

Emmi grunted back and pulled at her leg again, but it wouldn't come free. It had to be a police officer, to have been asking about her night that way. She had been drinking, yes- or she would have stayed away from this Road. But it was the fastest way home and the cluster of men walking toward her had make her felt uncomfortable. They'd never come down here, was her reasoning. The Road wasn't even that long- a short walk from one end to the other, but one that smelt of evil things and sickness all the same. 

They bent down in front of her. She looked up, and was met with an elegant woman sporting 1930's hair and light, pale skin. Her lips were painted a nostalgic red, and her hair fell about her shoulders after it curled above her head. She looked sweet, friendly, despite her despite frown at the site of Emmi's ankle. Even her attire was outdated- she smelt like alcohol and smoke, but she wore an even older 1890's dress with long, eccentric cuffs wreathed in lace, made of a violet silk that fell to her ankles and covered casual black boots. She wore a lace collar at her neck, beads on her wrist, and a wedding ring on her finger.

Emmi didn't answer. She felt, for a moment, that she was in the past, but no woman in that time would be without a man, and no woman in that time would stop to help in such a dark, run-down place. The woman smiled and held her hand out. Grudgingly, Emmi took it, and was heaved to one foot with the force of ten women. She blinked and stared at the woman in confusion- in return, she was merely smiled at.

"You'll need a hospital," the woman observed. She hooked an arm under Emmi's before she could protest and led her to the wall. "Or something like it," she added under her breath. Not lightly, she rested Emmi against the wall and insisted she stand. She bent to one knee and gently prodded her ankle.

"Ouch." Prod. "Ouch." Touch. "OUCH."

The woman looked up at her and smiled- her gaze lingered too long on Emmi's legs.

"My name is Anatasia, or Annie, for short."

"Emmi."

"Ah, I never could have guessed."

Anastasia- Annie- stood, pressed Emmi against the wall, and questioned her. No, she had not come with anyone; her phone was in her bag; she was single, yes, and her parents were out of town; she was of age; she'd been drinking at A Lah Lah Drunk; she didn't think anyone would come help her.

Annie smiled and nodded after each answer, her hands lightly tracing to Emmi's neck.

"Could you stop that?" Emmi snapped, pain in her ankle throbbing. Anastasia pouted.

"Pain?" she prompted breezily. Emmi clenched her teeth and nodded. The smug, carefree woman was getting on her nerves.

"Let me help you with that," she crowed. She snarled, teeth bared, and left Emmi cast in stone. She only reacted with a shrieking cry as the woman- the vampyre- dug her long fangs into her neck, smeared her skin with lipstick, drew from her.

The pain eventually subsided. The woman waited, patient, fed her when her eyes opened. She smiled and played with her hair as Emmi breathed herself into Unlife, and merely asked, gently;

"Should we get you some new heels before we head back?"