Memories. Memories of blood, sweat and dirt. The smell of stale cigars, popcorn, carcasses, of animals, of humans, and of heat, repressive and suffocating, forming a stench so vile that I wretch in recall. But those were also my happiest days, because I met two rebels, two soul mates, who became my brothers.

*  *  *

I am a fighter. I’m good at it. It wasn’t by choice really, but of destiny. My life started out in an unusual manner. I was found by a sect of kung fu masters in the mountains of China when I was very young. They are still there, modernized of course; you can get wi-fi. Our times demand it. But they are still there. They train day and night, for the art. There was/is no impending, defined threat, not like in feudal days, only the one we receive the instant it arrives. And for that they trained us.

They wanted me to be able to protect myself when I was old enough to have to leave them. For I would not be allowed to stay sheltered forever. Prior to that, I lived in those same rugged and beautiful mountains with my pack. I wasn’t really a stray, per se, when they found me, I had a ‘family’ but they didn’t know that. All they saw was a dirty, naked, skinny girl.

They caught me, gave me warmth and food. My first language came back to me: Human. And the memories of what that meant. After a time, we too formed a family. I had no choice. I fought them, bit them, scratched them, howled day and night, but they were kind and won me over. I was a good student, obedient, and effective. I already knew how to survive, so this was the finesse; they were meant to find me, to re-teach me human language and habits, how to use my mind and my body to become a ‘nice little package,’ as I am often called.

I left the shelter of the mountain refuge and its surreal mysticism to go to school in London when I was 16. It was a great time to be there. Musically, culturally, and for me, spiritually. I was already fluent in canine, Mandarin and English, but my education in the classic arts and letters needed refining. I spent the next four years building onto what I had been already given. Along the way, I learned to play bass and formed a punk band. It was that which brought me back to the East, and where my real life began.

*  *  *

The first time I punched Max in the nose, I was dead serious. I was in a bar, roughly translated, ‘One Ruby Eye Closed’ in Hong Kong, Wan Chai district. Nightlife is pretty restless, frantic. You want it, you can find it. A nice-looking guy was talking me up after our first set, and I admit, I was pretty flattered. I usually scare people, so it’s nice when someone just starts talking to me, no posing and no pretenses. So we’re talking and as this guy walks by he says, “You’re quite a whore.” I clocked him.

As it turned out, his Mandarin was pretty rough, his Cantonese no better, and he’d meant to say something different. Something complementary. After I helped him up and cute guy said he’d see me later, he and I started talking… in English. He went to get me a drink and I swear as he turned away, his doppelganger started walking towards me. I did a double-take. This man warmly smiled at me and said, “I see you’ve met my brother Max. Nice shot by the way.”

“Thanks. Brothers. That’s explains a lot,” I said sizing him up and down.

“Similarities end there. Max has that effect women. I don’t. I’m Jay,” he said, doing the same.

“Ha, well, it was misunderstanding anyway. His should stick to what he knows. Hi, I’m Lara.”

“I know. Great show…” And so it went.

We never did play a second set. A few drinks and few hours later I didn’t really know much more about these Americans or why they were here other than the usual “taking some time off, traveling” bit. They were onto something dodgy it seemed to me. They joked about getting drunk, traveling the world, and finding some troublesome den of ‘vampire communists.’ I noticed Max’s eyes belied no humor at this last idea at all.

Jay was older, affable and the more incisive of the two. Damn if the two of them weren’t twins was all I could think. As we chatted and laughed, a pang of regret rippled through me at the thought of punching Max, but I have fast reflexes. I looked around at the dwindling crowd. The rest of the band had long since left.

Truth was, we were tired of touring. It started as a lark after our final school year, but it was a lot of work. The rest of girls wanted to get back to London to start their lives. It had been two years now and it had been great training for me. Pretty much at every show, I doubled as the bouncer, which is pretty funny considering I just scratch 5’4 and weigh 115 pounds. I don’t look like much but my Masters taught me well. What is strength when you have speed? Well, sometimes I make mistakes due to that.

*  *  *

“Let’s go,” I mouthed while collecting our money, bowing to my freshly knocked-out opponent, and wiping his blood from my hands. This was our second week hanging out together and I still wasn’t sure which one I thought I’d sleep with. I could only pick one.

We were making good money. This came about accidentally but we had nothing to better to do. Max was the foil. We’d go to dark, smoky bars, separately of course. The boys always came together because when you looked like twins, there wasn’t any other option.

I’d play innocent at the bar; Max would be loud and obnoxious try to hit on me. I’d then switch to psycho-bitch and bait Max to the rest of the crowd. Jay would try to talk him “out of it” and then I’d bet Max. Very vocally. Others would want a piece because they see something in my eyes. Jay would work the crowd a bit longer while the throbbing pop music was stopped, the circle formed. The shouting would start.

We’re not talking top-of-the-line crowd here either. So, the places would get pretty riled up. By that point, I’d punch Max at least six times in that same nose that brought us together in the first place. After I left with my take, we’d meet up in yet another bar and gross about $800 US dollars a go. It was simple and effective. I admit, fun. So many bars, so little time.

I can’t remember really how it all started but one night it simply clicked. Might have been all those Jack and Cokes, and noodles. It was around that time we’d met a guy called Wonder Bread who asked me if thought I could handle the “underground.”

I slept with Max.

*  *  *

Cage fighting is kind of strange. But more disturbing to me was that I threw away all learned ancient principles of balance and harmony by fighting for money. The bar thing started it but this definitely brought it to another level. My mind was always in a constant battle of paradoxes anyway at the time and this sure didn’t help.

And it smelled. Say what you will, I am still a girl at heart and certain things disgust me. Including me. I had never killed Man before; well certainly not for blood sport. Seemed I’d somehow lost my way.

The place was really dark and the shouting was hurting my ears. My band played loud, raucous punk but I was too cool to wear ear plugs at that tender age. The damage caused my left ear to buzz and pulsate if it rose above certain decibels. And it was buzzing. A tidal wave of noise. I found it all very disorientating, distasteful. Hell, I’ll try anything once, if I like it, twice. But this, I did not like. Not on any level. I am not a superhuman after all. I was done.

I collected my hefty winnings from the scary old lady running the joint and motioned to the boys to meet me in the alley. As I cleaned up before heading out, I realized I wasn’t at all quite sure why these two brother-tourists were still hanging around me. And conversely, why was I hanging out with them?

Since I’d met them that night, we’d never really parted ways for more than a few hours. Sure Max was a team-player with a positive ‘can-do’ attitude in bed, and so am I, but that wasn’t it at all. No. It was time to ask. As fate would have it, I didn’t have to.

*  *  *

I stepped out into the cool night, smoky and aromatic from the restaurants, whorehouses, discos and drug dens converging in a delta of Hell all around me. I didn’t see Jay and Max anywhere yet. As I lit my cigarette and peered into the haze for my boys, it was there I saw my first vampire.

“Got a cigarette for me, little lady?” a man hissed at me, eyes half-closed.

Ugh, another drunken tourist. “You sure you need one, buddy?” I replied, getting my tough girl act going. God, I was so tired of having to dispatch fools. I couldn’t wait to get back to London. This never happened. But I was ready.

“Please? Jusssst one? It is true that liberty is precioussss - so precioussss that it must be rationed?” the end word becoming a whimpering question.

The canine in me made me jump back and get in my fight stance. Huh? I simply stared at him. Something wasn’t right.

It smiled to reveal teeth that I hadn’t seen the likes of, not even in the countryside. Gnarly and long. And well, just so many in crammed there. A long stream of viscous drool rolled glistening from the corner of a smiling mouth and down the neck. The eyes opened fully and were all pupil. Pools of black through and through.

“What are you?” I asked.

“A lie told often enough becomes truth…” said the dribbler.

“Get him, Max!” Jay yelled coming out of nowhere, tossing a silver crucifix towards a suddenly materialized Max, which remained uncaught. A hollow clink on asphalt. Not even close. I almost started laugh at the absurdity of the scene before me. What were these two clowns going to do anyway?

“Lara! Stand back. You don’t know what you’re dealing with,” Jay yelled from one end of the alley. He implored, “Let Max do it. I, we, we need to, he’s….” He came towards my direction at the circumference, keeping distance from the thing.

As this was going on, drooling thing still was staring at me, focused, waiting for his cigarette perhaps. Max was running at it from the side with two pointy sticks. An obvious tactical error. It turned, growled and easily grabbed Max by the throat. It held him in the air and dangled him a little, for effect I guess. Max’s black shoes shone, feet jiggling back and forth.

“Pleassse comrade. See,” it said to me.

Max was turning blue. Jay started to hyperventilate a little. Jesus Christ, I thought. I took an easy leap forward and broke its arm at the elbow so as to release Max, who tumbled away like a sack of potatoes. I stood face to chest with it. It was much taller than I. No matter.

“I am not your comrade. Maybe you should take your fight elsewhere,” I said. Everyone should have a few and a fair chance to walk away.

“No Lara, he’s not human, kill him, kill him now,” Max wheezed. Right, I thought.

Its mouth opened, just a little too widely to be normal, revealing rows of shark-like teeth. It made a shriek that hit my ear at just close to enough that decibel point I hate and lunged at me. Jay threw me a ‘stake.’ Being a good horror fan with a cool head, I instantly plunged it into its heart and stepped back. Just like working the knife form really.

In two seconds that thing was a pile of dust. Nothing left but a sickle and hammer pendant on a gold chain in a pile of gray-white ash. I swear its last words were, “Expropriate the expropriators!”

Heaving in unison, they looked intently at me from the same eyes. Max spoke first, softly, slowly. “Do you see why we need you? Do you, Lara?”

This, I thought, I might like.