Velma Star Glimpses

[Velma]

The pitch of the Italian engine invaded the ears, the wind pressed hard against the cheeks and caressed the hair, the expensive fabrics of the sits were agreeable to the touch and cradled Velma. The sense of velocity was insane; for the first few minutes; after a while it became joy, the funneled vision gave way to a world of bloody dreams if only for just the briefest of moment as the breath of the engine took hold again.

The Ferrari progressed through the empty night asphalt of the highway. On the horizon it was possible to look at the orange and yellow lights of Sacramento.

The engine pressed further as another gear was shifted and in just a few minutes the car entered the city proper. The streets were empty and deserted, only the roar of the charging horse could be heard breaking the sepulchral peace.

Velma looked to her left side and saw the middle aged man’s skin, it was stretched thin as if pulled, and the tan was unnatural, almost artificial, the eyes were tired and wrapped around the wrist was an expensive looking Carthier, he stood almost formal through the entire travel only the occasional caress when he went for a shift or the more polite smile, for her part Velma stood silent and just enjoyed...

The Italian Red stopped in front of the hotel. White emaciated legs left the car first, and after them came a vicious blue eyed beauty who waited for her current date.

They both went up, but after a few hours only the blue eyed beauty came down. The Vallet went for the car, but the girl blew it a kiss of goodbye, and waved.

Behind her came the bellman with the expensive looking Louis Vuitton in his hand, the woman gestured towards the taxi that seemed to be waiting. As she gracefully made her way inside she instinctively looked inside her handbag.

A thick roll of hundred dollar bills, an expensive Carthier and an image from an old newspaper with a picture of a beautiful songstress in a swing in one of those burlesque shows from the twenties.

Finally!

Sacramento!

Velma thought as she licked her lips from her last meal.

[Velma]

At first glance it seemed like two lovers consuming their passions. He was sitting in the expensive looking chair; she was on top of him. His neck was reclined backwards, the hands around her holding, no, grabbing her with violence, his eyes wide opened, moaning in ecstasy. She was pressing herself against him, the lingerie still hanging in her, her hand grabbing his hair, pulling his head backwards as her hips did all the work.

Two steps closer though would tell a different story.

Those were not just two lovers at the end of a tryst, another atavistic impulse had led them to this point and it was not just about lust, but also nourishment. Her fangs were pressed hard against his strong neck; their bodies were stuck together, glued in a moisty embrace, blood running down his chest.

The Kiss made him collapse with exhaustion.

Her tongue licked the wound that profusely marred his skin with red. It ran down his proud chest down to his belly making sure nothing would go to waste.

Her nails had left passionate marks in the chest and back, and his hair was severely disheveled. She was sure he would remind the last hours for years to come; even if he would never remember how it ended. She ended up removing her lingerie and picked up a half drank champagne bottle…

Might as well get the most of it.

The next steps took her to the shower where she would remain until it was time to leave… before the sun rises.

[Velma]

As her fangs pierced his neck all the commotion came to a halt. In a heartbeat adrenaline and exhilaration gave place to a mind numbing stupor.

She struck her fangs deeper and felt the thick sanguine substance pulsating inside his veins his beat was strong and healthy and right now it was threatening to spray outside.

She applied strength a while longer, her lips pressed against the skin into an unwholesome kiss. Once closure was fully assured she allowed the rich and thick fluid to flood her throat. Her tongue savoring the metallic undertones and the more subtle nuances of his life’s humor, it was pleasant and reinvigorating, feeling the adrenaline and the pleasure endorphins that were circulating inside him.

As the burrowed and succulent nectar reached her stomach she felt it spread through her body lending it power and strength. Inside her, deep in the darkest corners of her psyche her private daemon demanded more. For what felt like a second it seemed too easy to give in. She pressed Further! Deeper! She demanded More! The torrent rushed down, not a single drop wasted, it was too precious to waste and it felt too damn good.

And as suddenly as the gluttonous intent appeared it disappeared, the shred of her virtuous self re-assuming control. Her fangs gently withdrawn from the man’s neck were followed by an avid tongue which ensured no wound would become the silent testimony of such an unspeakable act.

After the deed was consumed she placed her hand under his disheveled shirt. The heart was still racing but somewhat more tired. The abuse was large but the victim’s physique was impresive and he looked healthy and flushed with life, he would survive… she told herself as she left the bathroom...

[Velma]

The large hall was empty, and only a single stage light remained lit, the ominously bright lamp cast a shadow over the stage at the inanimate body that lay sprawling on the floor.

The large African American was a rising star with the trumpet, he had strong lungs, thick lips, a big nose and round black eyes; he used to shave his hair and today he smelled Vicks, he said it helped him with his nose problems, a condition he had since arriving from New Orleans...

Velma had watched Tirone perform for a few weeks. She had attended some of the practices just to hear the man playing his mean trumpet and remember how good it felt to be the center of the world…

I will drain that spark from you and make it mine!

Velma announced to the empty audience. After that she kneeled close to his neck and bit an unceremonious bite. She savored the tick blood as she had savored none before. When the unwholesome affair was over she cast her eyes towards the bright lamp.

I stand surrounded by oblivion! I am ephemeral but my work shall be time immemorial!

That’s how she felt, the circle of shadows closed around her, each decade fewer knew her name and fewer knew who Velma Star had been. She was determined to fight against it but with each passing day it was harder to find the artist in her.

Today she stood at the edge. In front of her stood the lonely light of hope; all around her the sea of darkness she had to traverse.

The blood was still warm in her throat so she picked up the pages on the floor. With caution she lifted the tall seat from which Tirone fell down and took her place.

Birds flying high you know how I feel
Sun in the sky you know how I feel
Breeze driftin' on by you know how I feel

It's a new dawn
It's a new day
It's a new life
For me
And I'm feeling good

…

The bright light turned off

The lonely cry of Velma echoed in the forgotten halls of memory once more.

[Velma]

The inanimate and unconscious body of her last victim layed in the bed of guilt.

Both his hands were cuffed to the bed.

The chest was covered in wax that had solidified, the silent testimony to something perverse and intense.

The rest of the lusty paraphernalia laid proudly for display, all the items were over the bed as if someone had been handpicking them or trying them all one by one.

On the other side of the bed, stood Velma.

The lamp of her bed table provided enough light for what she needed to do.

She was reading a novel. And she seemed to be quite absorbed by it.

On the front cover one could read:

“The Fifty Shades of Grey”

After a few more pages the Daeva finally looked to the other side and picked the book mark. She closed the book.

Maybe I should call someone who actually knows about this.

Velma grabs her phone and after some effort dialing a number she hears the voice of the operator on the other side.

"This number is no longer operational."

She tries again.

The answer is the same.

"This number is no longer operational."

Her eyes float to the rope idly lost near her feet.

All the more pretext to meet him again, tomorrow, maybe at his office this time…

[Velma]

The sound of footsteps hitting the floor echoed in her head.

She was tired but running. Was she hurt, had she been hit by something? A shot? A stab wound?

It mattered little.

She continued to run, faster and stronger! Her senses were enhanced and predatory, as if the thirst inside her had made her, or rather, turned her into an animal.

Everything seemed bizarre in this scene. A slender entertainer from a club running after a tall and handsome gentleman with that Mafioso outlook.

Her clothes were bloodied, his clothes were bloodied.

He was armed, she was not.

A pistol!

The sound of gunfire echoed in the alley as the shade that tried to escape her turned around and haphazardly aimed, took it’s shot and turned away to run again.

The beast continued to press her forward towards her victim, the smell of blood was all the incentive that she needed, it’s taste was still in her mouth, like ambrosia, a forbidden fruit from the heavens, metallic and thick, she could taste the subtle undertones raw and puissant! It lend her strength and life. Why did she craved it above all else?

She accelerated.

After a few more turns in the tight zigzag between buildings the man turned for another shot as she closed in. Had the shot hit her?

No it was not possible, it surely had missed.

Eyes wide opened the man breathed his last. Confusion and terror stamped in his face.

Her first meal was fast, bloodied and messy. It had nothing classy or sophisticated. In a dark alley, far away from the plumes and the liquor, the lights and the glamour.

Here was all about survival.

After her avid meal she turned around, satiated, beautiful and intense blue eyes, turned grey by the demon within looked to the man in the floor, to the cadaver.

There was a calm and ponderous voice coming from behind her. The demon within her recoiled and as she looked back

(…)

A daymare.

Velma woke up from her daily sleep. She had been disturbed by a very vivid dream from the past. Was it a warning? Was her past going to catch up with her here in Sacramento?

Hardly!

As she reviewed the scene in her mind her hunger bit. She would need to feed soon.

The Daeva moved to the phone next to her and dialed two digits.

“Yes!”

“Room service?”

“I would like to have a meal…” she picked up the small brochure by the table.

“Yes, lamb will be perfect.”

Dinner would be served soon.

[Velma]

25th December 1914 – Chicago

It was early morning, the chickens and the roosters outside heralded the sun rising in the distant horizon, far away from all the buildings and sky scrapers that dominated the landscape. The air was still chill, little Velma’s nose was red but under the blankets it was cozy and warm, the two other orphans with which she shared the bed with were still sleeping.

Unlike the other days, today she made an effort to rise early and be the first to be up and about. Silently she escaped the bed without waking up the others, inside her room there were several other beds as small as hers, all of them cluttered with orphans and stray kids from around town… young girls that had no one to call mother or father and no place to call home.

With cold barefoot she made her way out of the room, the boards creaking at each step. She saw Sister Bethany by the door, seating at a nearby table reading the newspaper as she always did. Unlike most of the other sisters, Sister Bethany made an effort to stay up to whatever happened in the world. On occasion the sister had told them that the world was at war, it had been at war since the summer… but the war was mainly on the other side of the sea in a place called Europe where people spoke strange languages and ate funny stuff, and in the place where kings and queens still existed and they ruled the common people from their castles, it was also the place from where the Italians and the Irish came from.

Velma’s eyes took a glimpse of the front page. It was the War again. How could the war be more important than Santa and Christmas gifts? The Great War they called it. But today Velma kept reading and noticed something different.

“A truce for Christmas has been agreed, Christmas is being celebrated on both sides of the trenches.”

Suddenly the newspaper got folded and the large and friendly face from Sister Bethany came from behind.

“Young Missy!”

“What are you doing up so early?”

“Breakfast only after saying grace and the gifts are only after the performance!”

(…)

All the girls from the orphanage were lined up in the main hall. Some rich old man one John D. something had offered the gifts for this year’s Christmas ceremony. Every year there was a different name, always that of a rich old man, one of those that from time to time Velma saw on Sister Bethany’s newspaper.

After that the girls sung for the assembled patrons, Christmas songs, all ladies and gentlemen in the audience, at least the common men seemed to be backwards were the young girls eyes had difficulty to reach, far away from the perfume and the fine velvets or the noble coats and gold watches.

When they finished singing the time finally came.

Red cellophane paper was eagerly unwrapped until a beautiful doll stood in Velma’s hand.

A Doll! A real one! With a dress to!

Her eyes beamed with joy and happiness. She decided to give her a name.

Bethany.

After a while she and the other girls were left to their devices, the playground was in a huge commotion, all the gifts and the excitement of Christmas. All was perfect for Velma until the tallest shade in the yard blocked the sun from above.

Velma knew who she was, and Velma knew why she was here.

Almost instinctively she hid her doll, Bethany, from her sight but it was too late.

Brenda was her name. Arms thick as Velma’s legs, a square chin, she was stronger than many boys her age and stronger than any of the other girls by far.

“Let me see what you are hiding there!” the voice echoed as if from some primitive cavewoman’s mouth.

“The soldiers in the trenches called for a truce during Christmas!” Velma tried to reason…

When Brenda finished with Bethany there was no longer anything that could be called a doll.

But Velma would soon have her vengeance… oh yes she would.

[Velma]

"Atta girl!"


And Velma felt a sharp pain in her chest before everything turning black.

(…)

Dub tup tup di dup tup tup!

Velma slowly recovered her self-awareness when the sound of a distant saxophone echoed in her ears. It was too far away for her to discern any melody, and it kept like that through an ignoble shroud of darkness and silent noise.

It took her more than just a moment to recover completely, she somehow knew she was seating in one of those rich and luxurious chairs from the Lincoln Gardens or the Metropolitan Theatre in Chicago… it was the only thing keeping her from doubting she was even alive. It was so dark, and the sound was so distant, the only sound in the world? How was that possible? For how long had she been here, trapped in this room? She tried to move up and walk but something kept her from even raising from her chair.

Then a bright holophote unceremoniously cleared the darkness away… not all of it, only a portion, it was one of those lights from one of those theatres, either the Lincoln Gardens or the Metropolitan Theatre in Chicago… Velma knew.

After her eyes adjusted to this new state she saw a beautiful woman clad in a red dress, a woman with bright blue eyes and hair the color of berries, it was her, Velma, it was her singing. That much Velma knew, but something in her told her that that wasn’t Velma, not because she was seating in her chair and she couldn’t be in two places at the same time… no it was not that. This Velma, the one that sung a song of silence by the microphone sang with passion, with vigor and with dedication. She sang with pride and brightness.

The woman didn’t bothered to look to Velma, she was too busy looking good for some non existing audience that was seating somewhere in the sea of oblivion that surrounded the beam of light.

“Hey!”

Velma chanced with doubt trying to reach her twin.

As if breaking some spell the lights turned on, the entire room was crowded with people which were now raising, standing and applauding the woman’s performance, there were roses thrown against the stage, several man all in beautiful apparel from the twenties were showing up, ladies as well extending her the highest curtsies. The woman’s smile was bright, all her face was bright with the joy and happiness of hard earned recognition.

Velma looked again to the patrons, to everyone in the scene unfolding before her eyes, she begun recognizing the faces, her sire was the first to arrive giving her twin a bouquet of roses and there were several faces she knew… not just from Chicago but from everywhere. Almost every kindred she had ever met seemed to go up on the stage to congratulate the woman for something, she saw Martha, Dillon, Erich, Conner, Asa, Hans, Max, Emma, Tracy, Chris, Allison, Cal, Abby, Alice, Arianna, Catherine, John, Ashley, Albert, Ciara, Twist, Neil, Chase, all of them and many more one by one going to that stage, a small crowd, until she broke their peace with a ear piercing shout.

The small crowd as if awakened from their stupor took their eyes away from FauxVelma. Turning their heads to the source of the scream, all at the same time as if possessed by a single entity, they rose their accusatory finger in her direction and their eyes locked into her’s.

For a minute they all stood frozen in place until they started laughing manically, they laughed in jest they laughed to ridicule her and to demean her, like hyenas or jackals their mouths extended to an impossible length and their eyes burned a bestial red. From among them came FauxVelma, she too had the smile of a Hyena and she pointed to her, to her chest.

“You will stay there.” She uttered while laughing a bestial laugh.

“Now it’s my turn!”

What was the meaning of this? Could this be the face of the Ravager?! The real face of the real Ravager? Was she being usurped by this being?!

She tried to rise from her seat again, but couldn’t.

Velma looked to her chest and found a stake pinning her to the chair, blood was paved all over the entry wound in her shirt, she couldn’t move and she felt the panic rising and her head spinning around and around as the laughs continued lauder and lauder and lauder, she screamed but it only added to the feeling of impending doom…

[Velma]

I sit in front of my bedroom mirror, that milky and gloomy reflection stares back at me, reminding me how much I owe it.

How good it would feel if I could self loathe for a decade, a century, locked away from everyone and everything, but even in the sleep of ages I find discomfort and pain. Haunted by the danse’s terrible reflection, how could I ever find peace, everlasting peace?

Certainly not in heaven?

Certainly not here?

And why would I need peace? What would I do with it? I’ve been at war with myself and everyone since… since ever, forever. And giving up now? Running away from all of this?

Leaving a book to be written, a song to be sung… a lover to be kissed, that’s so unlike me, who dragged myself from the bottom of the food chain, the very bottom of the food chain, only to give up now?

I’m immortal, I'm beautiful, I’m forever young, I’m famous, I’m what everyone dreams to be…

I will stay.

Just to remind myself I can't run away.

I will keep the catsuit, I will change the color of my hair and I will keep smiling, and hopefully one day I will write a book, sing a song and kiss my lover, and maybe then, find peace? Or move on.

[Velma]

Velma had just descended into the Elysium.

That place she had disrespected and that had earned her a trip of a few months to the other side of the moon, she still remembered how good it felt pulling the string from Emma and to see her collapse, claws bared… and the best of it all:

“you will restrain your hunting to the barrens Doctor!”

It felt good to see the savage dragged down by her scheme, as much as impulsive as it had been. But then of course it didn’t outweigh the fact that the woman’s Priscus had come at her with a stake and knocked her to torpor.

Velma’s eyes searched the board for news, she wasn’t expecting to find something as ground breaking...

Alice Brown is back!

Immediately her heart burned with fire! Her fangs sprung outside and she hissed!

THAT BITCH! BACK!

Velma closed her hands into fists until they turned red.

Immediately all the thoughts about how much she wanted Alice to be back washed away in a wave of burning jealousy.













It took a while but after a few moments the succubus recollected herself, fists turned into open hands, fangs sprung back inside and her eyes were cast some other way.

It was time to plot the revenge and downfall of Alice Brown!