Read Online Blood Dragons (Rebel Vampires Book 1) by Rosemary A Johns - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Rosemary A Johns
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with First Lifers?’
Ruby would narrate stories to me, in those difficult years after the Great War, when I’d lie shuddering in the grip of night terrors (reliving the boom of the guns, flash of the lights and the stink of rot).
She’d tell me of how she remembered a time when armies would agree to fight well after breakfast, with the steady march of two battlelines towards each other. How both sides followed chivalrous and honourable rules. But the whole rulebook’s blown to pieces now, isn’t it?
After World War Two, it was nuked.
Look, First Lifers fight, get it? It’s what you do. Kill. Rape. Destroy. It’s worming in your nature. Every day you sit calmly at a desk and don’t rip out the heart of your piss annoying, bully of a boss, you’re simply supressing it. You know it, even if you won’t admit it.
First Lifers wail about butchering wars, rebellions or massacres half way around the globe. Yet you never stop to ask why they’re still happening. You just want them to stop.
Bloody genius .
Want to know something?
They’re never going to stop .
Not whilst you reckon you’re the apex predators, stomping around this planet, like the King of the Animals.
If your boys don’t have a war to be sent to die in, they’ll make one at home. If your Government acts like a pack of tossers (and that’s not much of a stretch of the imagination), then they’ll riot, burning their own streets to ashes, like bloody heroes. It’s skin deep, this twenty-first century lark.
Us Blood Lifers? We’re merely more honest about it.
In the afternoon we got some shut eye, curled hot in each other’s arms until sundown.
Whilst Ruby was dressing, I strolled naked to the mirror, grabbing the Brylcreem and comb as I passed; I shaped my hair up with them into a pompadour. I grinned, modelling my latest look for Ruby, like a mannequin.
‘My own Billy Fury,’ Ruby smiled, catching me close and hard against her, for one long moment.
I loved this new age, freedom, music, clobber…
Our weekend had resurrected me once more into Blood Life. I needed a fragment of it to wear as a second skin, in case I forgot who I was again.
I dragged out jeans and a black t-shirt from the dead bloke’s suitcase - just my size.
Ruby was watching me with narrowed peepers.
I wrenched the tall motorcycle boots off the Rocker, who’d started to soften down the path of decay; he’d already passed the rigor mortis, which had comically stiffened him all day – they’d do.
An arm at a time, I heaved off his motorcycle jacket, which was studded and decorated with a gold Ace of Spades on the back.
‘You’re a rebel now?’ Ruby assessed me, transformed into head-to-toe Rocker.
‘I was always a rebel,’ I lit up, striking the match against the wall with a smile, ‘just got me some new threads.’
Then I glanced down, noticing the motorbike keys on the dressing table: a bloody Triton . I caught Ruby’s eye. She shook her nut, but I grabbed the keys anyway, before sauntering to the door.
I looked back at Ruby over my shoulder. ‘Wanna take a ride with me?’
‘Do you wish to take a ride with me ?’ Ruby snatched the keys from my fingers. Then suddenly serious, she traced down my cheek. ‘I’m glad we came back. I’m glad you are back. Yet I sense something’s happening in the First Lifer world: a change I’ve seen before. But this time, we need to be ready to play our part.'
5
‘Change is always difficult for everyone involved. Sometimes, however, we need to have a long, hard think about what’s best and accept--’
‘I’m not sodding accepting nothing.’
Wednesday sighed, straightening out her uniform in quick, frustrated motions. ‘Try to be more open, yes? You need to seriously consider, well, what we talked about earlier.’
‘ You talked. Did you hear me yammering on?’
I edged further away from the bedroom window, wincing as my back began to smoulder.
Wednesday had been late this morning
Ruby would narrate stories to me, in those difficult years after the Great War, when I’d lie shuddering in the grip of night terrors (reliving the boom of the guns, flash of the lights and the stink of rot).
She’d tell me of how she remembered a time when armies would agree to fight well after breakfast, with the steady march of two battlelines towards each other. How both sides followed chivalrous and honourable rules. But the whole rulebook’s blown to pieces now, isn’t it?
After World War Two, it was nuked.
Look, First Lifers fight, get it? It’s what you do. Kill. Rape. Destroy. It’s worming in your nature. Every day you sit calmly at a desk and don’t rip out the heart of your piss annoying, bully of a boss, you’re simply supressing it. You know it, even if you won’t admit it.
First Lifers wail about butchering wars, rebellions or massacres half way around the globe. Yet you never stop to ask why they’re still happening. You just want them to stop.
Bloody genius .
Want to know something?
They’re never going to stop .
Not whilst you reckon you’re the apex predators, stomping around this planet, like the King of the Animals.
If your boys don’t have a war to be sent to die in, they’ll make one at home. If your Government acts like a pack of tossers (and that’s not much of a stretch of the imagination), then they’ll riot, burning their own streets to ashes, like bloody heroes. It’s skin deep, this twenty-first century lark.
Us Blood Lifers? We’re merely more honest about it.
In the afternoon we got some shut eye, curled hot in each other’s arms until sundown.
Whilst Ruby was dressing, I strolled naked to the mirror, grabbing the Brylcreem and comb as I passed; I shaped my hair up with them into a pompadour. I grinned, modelling my latest look for Ruby, like a mannequin.
‘My own Billy Fury,’ Ruby smiled, catching me close and hard against her, for one long moment.
I loved this new age, freedom, music, clobber…
Our weekend had resurrected me once more into Blood Life. I needed a fragment of it to wear as a second skin, in case I forgot who I was again.
I dragged out jeans and a black t-shirt from the dead bloke’s suitcase - just my size.
Ruby was watching me with narrowed peepers.
I wrenched the tall motorcycle boots off the Rocker, who’d started to soften down the path of decay; he’d already passed the rigor mortis, which had comically stiffened him all day – they’d do.
An arm at a time, I heaved off his motorcycle jacket, which was studded and decorated with a gold Ace of Spades on the back.
‘You’re a rebel now?’ Ruby assessed me, transformed into head-to-toe Rocker.
‘I was always a rebel,’ I lit up, striking the match against the wall with a smile, ‘just got me some new threads.’
Then I glanced down, noticing the motorbike keys on the dressing table: a bloody Triton . I caught Ruby’s eye. She shook her nut, but I grabbed the keys anyway, before sauntering to the door.
I looked back at Ruby over my shoulder. ‘Wanna take a ride with me?’
‘Do you wish to take a ride with me ?’ Ruby snatched the keys from my fingers. Then suddenly serious, she traced down my cheek. ‘I’m glad we came back. I’m glad you are back. Yet I sense something’s happening in the First Lifer world: a change I’ve seen before. But this time, we need to be ready to play our part.'
5
‘Change is always difficult for everyone involved. Sometimes, however, we need to have a long, hard think about what’s best and accept--’
‘I’m not sodding accepting nothing.’
Wednesday sighed, straightening out her uniform in quick, frustrated motions. ‘Try to be more open, yes? You need to seriously consider, well, what we talked about earlier.’
‘ You talked. Did you hear me yammering on?’
I edged further away from the bedroom window, wincing as my back began to smoulder.
Wednesday had been late this morning
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