Beneath the gleaming skyscrapers and picturesque facade of the City of Redemption lies another city; a community of dark and ancient magic populated by creatures of the night. Strephon Bellman, a semi-immortal half-fae living among the humans of the city has made the acquaintance of Cassandra True, a reporter for the Daily Oracle. Cassandra has landed an important scoop, thanks in part to Strephon's help, and to celebrate has invited Strephon out for dinner.
Dark Redemption is an Urban Gothic Fantasy which will be running in weekly installments Wednesday evenings. Previous installments can be found linked at the Dark Redemption Index.
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Chapter 16: Iced Cappuccinette
In Which Strephon receives a tutorial on Social Media and Cassandra sees something she shouldn’t
Less than forty-eight hours after resolving never to see Cassandra again, Strephon sat across the table from her, trying to assume a relaxed manner. She wanted to celebrate her good fortune and repay Strephon's kindness by taking him out. A generous impulse, he told himself, should not be scorned.
So Strephon found himself seated in a dim, neon-lit club in front of a sleek laptop computer as Cassandra tried to show him how to create an avatar. "It's really easy," she said. "This way when you talk to other people, you have an image next to the text to represent yourself."
"I generally use my face for that purpose."
The club was called "Cyba-Netsu" and it had a decided computer theme. Cassandra said it was a "cyber-cafe". Each table came equipped with computer terminals and the cover charge included a temporary guest account on the club's server.
"It works like this," Cassandra said. She typed a bit on her terminal and a window opened on Strephon's screen (directly underneath the pop-up ad for hair coloring) containing the image of a puppy and the cryptic letters:
SanDee: How R U, Strephon?
He puzzled over the message. “San… Dee...?”
Cassandra blushed a little. “Oh. Sandy. Short for Cassandra. People used to have trouble with my name in school. And there are a couple of other Sandies registered here so I had to make it different.”
That made a certain amount of sense. “Do you prefer being called Sandy?” Strephon asked.
Cassandra seemed to think about that for a bit. “A lot of my friends call me Sandy, but I use Cassandra for my articles. It sounds more professional. You can call me Cassandra if you like. I like the way you say it. It sounds… nice.”
Strephon quickly turned back to the screen lest she notice him blush as well. "They do require journalists to spell these days, do they not?"
"It's Netspeak, Strephon! That's how everybody IM's."
“Eye Ems?”
“Instant messages.”
"But as we're both facing each other at the same table, wouldn't it be more convenient simply to speak to each other?"
"Devon wasn't kidding. You aren't very up on the 21st Century, are you."
Strephon scowled. "The staff do not seem to be very attentive."
"Here." Cassandra leaned over to his keyboard, bringing her body disconcertingly close to his. "Just click here where it says "Menu" and that pulls down the... well, it actually is a menu in this case. And double-click to make your order."
Strephon gingerly followed her instructions and at her suggestion ordered an iced cappuccinette.
Cassandra looked at him thoughtfully. "Is he really your cousin?
"Who."
"That Devon guy."
Strephon bristled. "Ah. Yes, his mother is one of my eccentric aunts. I have several." He paused. "Did he... say anything to you?
"Not much," Cassandra replied. "He's not at all like you."
"Thank you."
"Except when you're cranky.
"I do not get cranky." He tried to cover his annoyance by fiddling with the trackball on the computer keyboard. He looked up again and saw that she still regarded him with that odd speculative look he was trying to discourage.
"You're not jealous of him, are you?"
"What?"
"That he can walk and you can't."
"Ah. Yes. Well, I suppose it would be natural. Really, I don't think of it all that much."
Fortunately, a waiter came to the table at that moment with their order; a thin man in a black turtleneck whose pale skin looked blue in the neon lights of the club and whose hair fluoresced green. "Enjoy your evening," he said with a smile.
The smile gave Strephon a sudden chill. Undead. Then he remembered what Cassandra told him the night before; that Miss Aoi Kurayami owned a string of cyber-cafes.
She didn't know that Kurayami was a vampire.
The iced cappuccinette tasted as vile as Strephon thought it would, but he put on a brave face. He had other things to worry about. How many other people at this club were vampires? Would Miss Kurayami be watching him? What sort of arrangement did Melchior have with her?
And what was he going to do with Cassandra?
"I forgot to ask, where were you this afternoon?"
"Oh," Strephon said. "Just running a few errands. Visiting a friend at hospital. Bunbury. Poor old Bunbury." It was the first thing that came to the tip of his tongue and instantly he regretted it.
Cassandra did not seem to notice his crib. "Really? What's wrong with him?"
"Consumption. Terrible thing."
"Poor man." She made appropriately sympathetic sounds. "Curious, though, that you should visit the hospital. I had a dream the other night about a hospital."
Strephon experienced a queasy sensation that had nothing to do with the iced cappuccinette. "Not an unpleasant dream, I hope."
Cassandra giggled. "No... not exactly... It was, well... you were in it."
"Ah. Say no more. I suppose I should be flattered." He had invaded her dreams again that night as he feared. Or did she enter his? That they had shared the same dream somehow, Strephon did not doubt. She was trying very hard to avoid looking at his legs.
She was so flustered, in fact, that she tipped over her drink, spilling iced cappuccinette into her lap. She leaped to her feet. "Omigosh! I'm such a klutz!"
"No harm done. Are you all right?"
"Look at me! I'm a mess! Will you excuse me while I run to the ladies' room to clean up?"
Actually, Strephon did not want to leave her alone in this place at all, but he could hardly demand to accompany her into the ladies' room. He smiled weakly. "By all means. Go right ahead."
As he watched her leave the table, he heard a musical chime come from his computer terminal. He turned to it and saw a new window on the screen:
Message from Kurayami -- Accept?
* * * * *
Cassandra blotted the stain on her dress and examined it critically. Great. She'd have to deal with that when she got home. She sighed and dried off her hands.
She opened the door to leave the ladies' room, and saw the green-haired waiter chatting with one of the customers, a goth girl in a black tube top with magenta hair, pierced eyebrows and a long silk scarf around her neck. Cassandra ducked back into the loo. She instinctively guessed that they were having a private moment and wouldn't want to be interrupted. Of course, that didn't stop her from peeking.
"Aren't you hungry, Ricky?" the girl asked, putting her arms around the waiter's shoulders.
"Not now, Mori. The Boss doesn't like it during business hours."
"She'll never know. Just a little nip. I really want it... Please...?" The girl loosened her scarf and let it flutter to her feet.
The waiter hesitated; then with a sudden lunge grasped her torso and planted a kiss on the girls neck.
Cassandra gave an involuntary gasp. She guessed that they were going to make out, but the suddenness of his action surprised her. The waiter looked up sharply and saw her. Then he thrust the girl aside and brought a towel to his face. The girl flopped back against the wall, with a blissful expression on her face.
From the girl's neck, Cassandra could see twin trickles of blood.
NEXT: Interview With A Vampiress
