raye-sim

Caleb, narrating: The punks and goths that flocked to San Myshuno’s underground were all vampires, even if only aesthetically. As it turned out, being commodified by humans freed us. It allowed the real vampires to come out in droves, no longer doomed to lurk in the shadows. No one gave us a second look. Even I let down my guard — for perhaps the first time ever. There was an easiness to existing, certain pleasures I couldn’t resist. All it took was looking the other way when things inevitably turned bloody.

Marybell decided the time was ripe to put her band idea to the test. She rechristened herself Miss Hell and called her little punk trio Hell’s Bells. [wryly] She never has been one for subtlety. They could barely play their instruments, but their tuneless caterwauling held a certain charm. Only minimal psychic influence was required to pack the city’s grimiest dive bars with enraptured crowds. Of course, that was largely because most of their fans were vampires. Hell’s Bells’ music — messy, cathartic, primal — was made for us. We all got caught up in the chaos.

Lilith: [shouting] Give me a boost, won’t you? I can’t see a damn thing! Much better! The crowd tonight is divine.

Caleb, narrating: And, yes, that often included me. Though I avoided the back alley afterparties, for which Lilith plucked lucky human fans from the audience, a seductive art she’d by then perfected.