Here it is folks. Part 9 is in. I would say a different flavor, but it's not. It's the same story.

So.... here we go again.

*****

They left the building behind them as they entered the city streets.

Ky was still a few steps behind David, and he didn't quite understand why, but he did feel a lot more comfortable that way.

He kept his eyes to the ground, watching the lines in the sidewalk pass. People knocked into him occasionally, a shoulder here, an elbow there. He neither minded, nor noticed. He was oblivious to it all. His thoughts were on Tabitha and where she could be. And the woman behind him.

Where did she come from, he thought. I don't know, but she scares me, he answered.

His mind kept coming back to the balcony door. It had been open when he walked into the living room. There was something there, something wrong, but he just... couldn't.... what was it that hit him as odd. . . The thought seemed to be creeping up on him, catching up to his thought processes. He pictured the balcony door, the living room with the table and couch, the hallway, the front door.. It wasn't the balcony door, it was the front door.

"David."

He jumped a foot off the sidewalk. He'd paused while he was thinking, as the front door came into his mind.

The chain on the front door had been locked.

"Why'd you stop walking?" She asked.

"Ummm.. nothing." He looked at her again. She had the same heavy coat on. It was thick and her shape was indistuingishable underneath it. I wonder what's beneath that jacket?

"I was just thinking about where Tabitha might have gone. She liked to frequent this club on Ninth street. It's called "Downtown Showdown". I think if we're going to start anywhere, we should start there."

"Let's go then," she said, taking the lead.

They walked on a few more blocks, and Ky asked him about the club.

"It's a club for rich people, mostly. You practically have to show a bank statment to get in." He laughed at his own joke. Ky's lip did not move. "She liked getting together with her wealthier friends, and she never felt hassled there. The people there were her own."

"Is it hard?"

"Is what hard?" He asked.

"Being with someone- loving someone- who has money, when you come from a poor background." She said.

"Oh." He looked at his feet again as he walked, afraid of looking at her, of what she might see in his eyes. He wondered briefly, How much did I tell her about me?

"It can be. I've never been one to believe that love has classes- love is indiscriminate. But it is hard. My father worked hard every day to provide for me and my sisters, and my mother never worked a day in her life- not for money at least. The life I was raised in was a hard one. If the crops failed, we didn't eat. If they were good, abundant even, I had a good present to look forward to, for my birthday or christmas. I still remember working every summer in the fields. And I love Tabitha, but she can't understand how hard it is to work for everything you've got, to struggle when things aren't going right."

He stopped talking, the memories of his childhood and home plaguing him. "It was so hard sometimes."

"I can understand hard work," Ky said.

He glanced up at her, expecting her to be looking at him, but she wasn't. She was looking straight ahead, like the conversation was just something to pass the time. It felt like more than that to him.

He looked down at his fingernails, afraid to still see the dirt embedded deep in them. There was no dirt in them. This time.

"Life is hard. We struggle, and work hard, because it makes us stronger. The people who don't struggle- who haven't been through those lean times- are weak. They don't last. Not like we do." She turned to him now, the corners of her mouth tilted up in the ghost of a smile. "Tabitha has had to work hard. Maybe not the kind of work you've had to do, keeping a roof over you rhead and food in your belly, but she has had to work."

She looked back to the street again. They were standing at a street corner and a few blocks to the right was the club. She paused there. Ky felt the need to say something else, to explain that Tabitha could understand hard work too.

"Tabitha probably understands hard work better than most people. She's done it for the worst and best of reasons- her survival."

David was surprised. "What?"

"The club is down the street. Get a move on." The edge was back in her voice, a rusty blade in her throat. "Move it, David."

He did. They quickly made their way down the street. He tried to log that part of their conversation away. Remember this; don't forget it dammit. Ask her or Tabitha about it if we . . . when we find her.

There was a long line at the door, stretching down nearly half a block.

"It's pretty busy for a week night," Ky said.

"Yeah, well, rich people don't have to get up early in the morning, do they? Besides," he said, indicating the line of people they walked past, "these people aren't rich, they're the posers who want to get in the club and score a rich date."

Ky laughed as they reached the bouncer. He was a large man, about 6'2" with a broad chest and a shining bald head. She laughed again. Do all bouncers have to shave their heads? She thought.

She attempted to walk past him, expecting it when the hand reached out to stop her.

"Look," the bouncer said, the sunglasses turning towards her, "you can't get in. We're already packed for the night." A few people in the head of the line groaned.

"No, it's okay. I know the owner." She reached for the sweet spot in his mind, and pushed gently.

He took off his glasses and peered at her. He assessed her, from her feet to her head, stopping a moment on her breasts. He winked at her, and let her slide past.

David looked at the guy, amazed as he walked by.

As they entered the club, he caught up to her and whispered, "What did you do to him?"

"Nothing," she smiled. "All men are susceptible to a nice body and a pretty face, right?"

He didn't buy it. His nerves tingled through his body as he contemplated it.

They walked around the partition, and Ky stopped. David bumped into her.

"What is it?" he asked.

She shushed him, shaking her head as he opened his mouth to speak again.

"They're here," she said. "Can't you smell them?" She'd forgotten who she was talking to as the thirst whistled through her veins and her fire rushed up.

David felt the temperature change, rising impossibly in this air conditioned club. Beads of sweat spotted his forehead.

She snarled, sharp canine teeth protruding from her mouth. Her eyes glowed in the dark, a soft burning red. He blinked again, not believing what he was seeing.

"The club is full of them."

"What?"

"Feeders."

She growled, a low angry sound. An animal growl.

She's not human, David thought. Out loud he said, unable to stop himself, "What are you?"

She turned to him, eyes blazing now, and said, "Find a place to hide. An enclosed room. Go now."

He didn't hesitate. He ran.

It was her time now. She walked forward, each step echoing on the cement floor. A few strobes lights danced around her, highlighting her.

People walked around her, smiling, laughing, unaware of the danger they were in. She could see in the dark corners, only shadows to the average eye, where a feeder had a mouth planted on the neck or arm of a human, blood covering its face and the victims clothes.

She could smell them. The stench filled her nose, bringing vomit to her throat and tears to her eyes. A few wandered at the dance floor, a nervous look in their eyes as they smelled her but could not see her yet. They were covered in makeup, just a few green veins visible through the dark biege tint.

The hunt thrummed through her body, the fire burning to be let loose. She knew she would have to do it. She'd left her sword in her cave, thinking David would being to suspect something.

She reached the center of the dance floor, the entire club turning to watch her. Every eye upon her, except the human ones. She counted quickly, determing the human loss would not be much. But this congregation of feeders had to be stopped. A few human lives lost was a small price to pay to remind the feeders of their place. If they began to congregate here, where else did they have feeding troughs like this? The thought frightened her, but it excited her as well. Perhaps this is what Tabitha stumbled upon? Did these feeders kill her?

The fire raged up, tearing away at her throat, scalding her tongue and lips as it was freed. The tables, chairs, drapes, artwork, everything caught fire almost at once, as she turned allowing her flame full access.

Feeders were ablaze everything. Running around madly, some picked up chairs and threw them at her. But the chairs burned to ashes before they reached her. Everything they threw, in their last attempts at survival, disappeared in a cloud of smoke and ash.

A few ran for the doors, but she quickly turned towards them and cut off their exits.

The club burned. The fire burned out and stopped. It would be a while before she could use it again, before it was back to full capacity.

The last of the humans ran around, some already dead and lying on the floor, others dying on their feet.

She left through the flames, walking down the hallway David had run down. She found him in an office, a heavy metal door protecting him.

He grabbed her jacket, and shook her, screaming, "WHAT ARE YOU? WHAT IS GOING ON?"

She almost chuckled, his shaking was unable to move her. She grabbed his arms and led him through the exit door in hallway.

They stepped into the cool night air, and David fell to his knees in alleyway.

"Oh, God, all those people." He felt sick to his stomach. He put his face in his hands, trying to keep the contents of his stomach down. He failed, and threw up, barely able to keep it off his clothes.

She stood there patiently, on guard. Waiting. Retribution would come, and swiftly. They would have to leave quickly. She did remember the first time she witnessed a mass killing, and understood his reaction. It is sickening to the stomach.

"Why? How? What..." David tried to form sentences, to put his jumbling thoughts into cohesive ideas. "What are you?" He said at last.

"Better now? Good. We have to leave. Can you think of any where else Tabitha frequented?" She asked.

"Not until you answer my question. What are you?"

She sighed. She needed his help to find out what happened to Tabs, and she was rather proud he didn't just have a breakdown. Usually humans just had a nervous breakdown, their mind melting at the impossibility of the circumstances. Tabs was the only person Ky had met who had witnessed the hunt who didn't end up in a mental ward.

There was something else. Something she couldn't quite figure out. He didn't feel like a human to her mind. It was a familiar sensation, but one she just could not identify. She chalked it up to nerves and an overzealousness to trust him. He was just a human, that's all. And a tough human at that.

"Get up, and I'll explain what I can along the way. Where else should we look?"

David stood up, his knees shaking a bit. She held his shoulder and steadied him.

"I don't know. This is the only club she ever mentioned. She sometimes would get together with friends at Susannah Jones's place. She lives over on Rockford street. It's about a ten minute drive from here."

"Well, the night is young." Ky said, walking ahead of David towards the street. "You have questions, and I have time to answer a few." She looked back over her shoulder, the same predatory look in her eyes that she'd had in the club. "Just a few. Choose them wisely."

David felt a whoosh of hot air come from the club behind him and sprinted to catch up with her.

It's late. It's 1.35am in OK. My husband is tentatively sleeping next to me. Sometimes he rolls over if I bump something, sometimes he'll just snore a little. I think it's kind of cute. ;)

But now as I sit here, adjusting the keyboard straddling my legs, I decide.. OK. Time for 8.

It's kind of strange, seeing this new blog background. I've grown familiar with the other one, and this one is alien to me. But I'm exhilarated by trying something new and it's just so pretty. Cool? Neat-o? Eh. Whatever.

This probably won't be long. My supply of caffeine has run out unless I make a fridge run. Which I'm not. I could make coffee, but I really don't want to be up all night.


New readers and old.. here we go.

*****

David was staanding at the sink. He'd accumulated another two sink fulls of dishes in the day. His mind was wandering, a lilting stroll that meandered from thought to thought.

Wow, those are a lot of dishes for one guy in one day.

Eh, so what if I didn't rinse EVERY glass? I wanted to get a new one instead.

Tabs would be chewing my butt out if she saw this mess. There's a pizza box around the living room somewhere.. how did I lose it?

Oh, Tabs...

He washed the glass in his hand again for the third or fourth time. He rinsed it, and set it in the container to drain.The dish washer needed repairs, and Tab was "going to call it in," he finished, speaking aloud.

I wonder if she'll...

"David."

A saucer fell to his feet. He jumped back, his shoulder bumping into the refridgerator.

"How... ho.... how'd you get in here so quietly?" he asked.

"I have my ways." She answered, the slightest smirk appearing on her lips. "Are you ready?"

"Sure, just let me finish up here." He turned back to the sink and dumped the saucer he'd dropped into the water. Another good thing about Tabitha, she didn't trust anyone to use the good china.

"No. We must leave now." Her fingers gripped his arm, the nails digging slightly into his arm. They were sharp, razor sharp. He thought, although his mind recognized this as ridiculous, that if she wanted to, she could slice him open with just a finger. His arm bruised under her hand.

"Ow! Okay, okay. We'll leave now."

She released him, and he rubbed his arm, expecting to feel the slick, slimy grease of blood on his skin. All he could feel was skin, a little dry. I should drink more water, the thought crossing and leaving his mind as quickly as a non-stop subway train passes a station. As quickly as the razor blade nails had entered and exited as well.

He grabbed his coat and they left, the sink was still three-fourths full of water, soapy suds refracting the artificial light throughout the room. The door slammed shut and four of the bubbles sitting complacently on the water popped.

"Why the rush, Skye?" David asked, expecting her to not answer.

"I'm not a day person, David." She said, looking back over her shoulder as they stepped into the elevator. "I prefer to do my hunting at night."

"What do you mean- hunting?" He asked again.

He could see her face reflected in the steel elevator walls. It was contorted, an unperfect image that seemed more accurate than the look in her face. She was sedate, calm, almost laughable, the way her eyes had crinckled up, like she was having a laugh at his expense.

But her eyes were stone hard, frozen cold in an expression rife with hate or rage. Maybe madness.

She caught him still staring at her. He could tell her mind was somewhere else and had come back suddenly, as though whipped back to conscious thought by a muscle toting guard. She glared at him, the image of her eyes flaring red stuck in his mind, but only for a few seconds.

The moment of tenseness passed and he briefed a sigh of relief when the elevator doors open. He ducked out quickly, leaving her a few steps behind.

****

Okay, wow, I know that is ultra short. I'll write more first thing in the morning after two cups of coffee and some toast.

Okay, for most of the old readers coming to this one, you already know what's going on.

This is a story I'm writing here, just for entertainment and practice purposes, and comments are appreciated. Let me know if you like it- point out spelling or grammar errors, or if a certain part just doesn't make sense.

Part 8 is coming today. If you have any questions, email me or leave a comment and stay tuned for the answers.

Shanna