Deganawida shifted uncomfortably and my eyes latched onto him. “I believe he wanted even the memory of you erased. In the numerous myths and stories about vampires, your name is never mentioned. The world believes Dracula is the father of vampires—the First—not you.”
I snarled furiously, but Deganawida pressed on before I could speak.
“But I think there is more to it. Bubbling Brook and your son…I never found their bodies after the attack,” he all but whispered. “I spent decades searching, speaking with other tribes, following strange rumors. But I never found them.”
The cavern grew silent as I stared at him, opening my mouth wordlessly. “You think…Dracula took them?” I final whispered. “Why would he do that?” I asked, my throat raw.
Deganawida frowned. “I think he tried,” he said carefully, “but I doubt he was successful. I think he learned about you conceiving a child and wanted that for himself. The fact that I never heard about baby vampires leads me to believe that they managed to escape his clutches. You told me that Dracula hated you—especially when you gave him your castle and figurative crown. Hated that he had to live in your shadow.”
“He will die in my shadow, too, Deganawida. This I swear.” As furious as I was at the moment, I knew I needed to calm down. I could entertain my rage later. Right now, I needed answers. But my mouth began to work of its own accord. “I will kill Dracula for myself, not for you. Never for you. I want you to know that—to carry that burden with you to whichever cursed afterlife you inhabit, if any. Do you know that the entire time I was asleep, I relived that fateful night on repeat? But that I still cannot recall if I told my wife that I loved her? Or whether or not I embraced my son with a loving hug? Even such simple memories as those were washed away in your cursed slumber. I watched that attack millions of times, Deganawida. Because of you.”
Nosh murmured uneasily, sounding disgusted. “That…is unbelievably sickening,” he whispered. “Enough to make a man go crazy.”
I slowly turned to look at him, flashing him the coolest glare I could manage. “Then you should be thankful that I am not merely a man, boy. I am a monster. The Devil, as I was once known.”
Nosh studied me thoughtfully—not looking afraid, but thoughtful. I dismissed him, turning back to Deganawida. “What does any of that have to do with you waking me up now?
Deganawida pursed his lips, weighing his answer. “The tribe is not what it once was, Sorin. The world has changed, and not for the better, despite my efforts. We may as well have all died that night.”
Nosh grunted. “Oh, I think you achieved quite a bit,” Nosh grunted. “Uniting the tribes was no small feat.”
Deganawida waved a hand dismissively. “I recently hosted an interview to tell the world the story of our people, our way of life, our culture. A documentary. Of course, I couldn’t let on that I had been around since the beginning. At any rate, the reporter was particularly callous and unsympathetic. I grew defensive and mistakenly showed him my journal from hundreds of years ago—the journal which you reprimanded me for, Sorin. The one that tells of your story. That a monster became a man, and that all things are possible if one attempts to fix their heart.”
I stared incredulously. “I doubt many would believe this reporter, judging by what you’ve told me…I’m also guessing that Dracula was not best pleased with your revelation.”
Deganawida nodded. “That’s just it. The reporter suddenly grew very interested when I mentioned your name. He asked questions about your story and the attack. He was particularly focused on the story that a vampire had conceived a child.”
I grew very still, considering the numerous consequences. How furious Dracula would be for that information to be made public.
“Days later, there was a theft at my home, and my journal was stolen. It is going up for sale tonight at a private, illegal auction—claimed as a recovered item from an archaeological dig. It is rumored that Dracula wants this journal—the only proof that he is not the First Vampire—silenced.”
I grinned mirthlessly. “Something like that? Yes. He would burn the world to destroy it.” I considered his words. “How would you know about an illegal auction?” I asked. The Deganawida I had known would never associate with that kind of immoral activity. But he had obviously changed from the man I once knew.
Nosh cleared his throat. “My parents associate with…several nefarious individuals.” I blinked at him, waiting. He sighed. “Gambling halls and casinos. Legislation has provided legal benefits to Native Americans opening casinos. My parents were involved in the beginning and set up a dynasty of sorts, although they are mostly retired now.” He looked guilty as he spoke, but I wasn’t entirely sure why. It wasn’t a sin to own a casino. I wondered what type of world I was about to encounter when we left the cave.
Deganawida continued. “I fear Dracula wants more than your existence erased, Sorin. I think he wants knowledge on your ability to conceive a child—something no vampire has ever done before or since.” I realized my lips were pulled back and that my fangs were bared. “I fear that the reason for the attack so long ago might have been twofold. To kill you and kidnap your family so he could reenact the miracle of vampire childbirth. I believe he must have failed on both accounts, but now my journal—which tells the full story—is going up for sale.”
Nosh cleared his throat. “Our people are in danger,” he explained. “If Dracula gets his hands on that text, he will likely target our bloodline, or you specifically, thinking one of the two holds the key to the procreation of monsters. Creating a brood of baby vampires. Because with everyone thinking you are long dead, that is the only lead. Vampires have already begun abducting our tribe.” He pointed down at the dead vampires on the ground. “Which means Dracula already knows about the journal.”
Deganawida nodded. “The werewolves will have nothing to do with us, as we are small and not worth their alliance—and they have enough going on with trying to take down the vampires and witches. And with most of the world not even knowing that the supernatural exists, we have no one to protect us. We need you, Sorin. As cruel as it sounds to have denied your vengeance for so long, I now beg your help in correcting my many, many mistakes. And, to finally offer you vengeance. Perhaps if I would have honored my promise to you, we would never have come to this.”
I realized that the smoke was beginning to fade somewhat, reminding me that we were on borrowed time and that Deganawida would not last much longer.
“Why would I care about any of this?” I rasped, clenching my fists. “My family is long dead, no matter what Dracula did that night. If I decide to kill him, it won’t be for you or your stupid journal.”
Deganawida lowered his eyes, nodding in understanding. “My journal contains many dangerous spells, but I doubt you would care about those. It also documents my search for your family. Particularly, your son.”
I stiffened incredulously. “WHAT?!”
“In my search, I found legends and folktales of a mysterious, cunning little boy who allegedly lived in the forests, leaving behind feathers on the animals he killed. Animals drained of blood, oftentimes. I was never able to prove or disprove the story, but the coincidence was concerning. He could be dead for all I know, but with your immortal bloodline, I find that doubtful. And if the story is true, I imagine that Dracula would be very interested in finding him.”
I was unable to move as I considered his story. Was it possible?
“My parents have tickets to the auction,” Nosh said. “No matter what you feel, I believe it’s in all our best interests to reclaim the damning evidence before Dracula does, if for no other reason than to infuriate him,” he said, eyeing me. “We can meet my parents tonight to get the tickets and go to this auction. They have the money to at least get us inside—but I doubt it can stand against Dracula’s accounts. Although my parents are wealthy, they are not immortal. In the end, compound interest wins. So, we might need to get our hands dirty…” He smirked at me. “If you’re in
terested in that kind of thing.”
I shot him a hungry smirk. “Perhaps.”
“I would like a moment with Nosh, Sorin,” Deganawida said, sounding tired and sad. “You aren’t the only person I’ve wronged in this room.” He smiled at me, looking regretful. “I would ask that you be a better man than me, but perhaps being the Devil is better than being a man,” he murmured tiredly. “I’m truly sorry for betraying your trust, and I’m glad I was able to see you again, old friend.”
I climbed to my feet, wincing as my threadbare clothes ripped, falling in tatters of disintegrating fabric. “I do this for our tribe, Deganawida. I do this for the man you once were. The man who taught me that joy was within my grasp. I will do this to right a wrong that I am responsible for. I will not do this for you.”
Then I dipped my chin and prepared to leave the room, spotting crude stairs and smelling fresh air. Well, fresher air.
“You’ll find a change of clothes in the satchel under the blood. I had to guess on the sizes,” Nosh said softly. “If they don’t fit, we will find you something else at my parents’ place.”
I didn’t acknowledge his comment as I left, hoisting the pack over my shoulder and leaving the empty blood bags behind me.
7
I climbed up the stairs to find a ladder made of metal bolted to the wall, leading upwards. At the top was a wooden trapdoor that opened into a large cavernous tunnel that looked to have been designed for hundreds of people but had been adapted into living quarters of some kind. Several of the metal stands with lights illuminated several racks of shelves laden with all manner of strange ritualistic items, boxes of what looked like food, and clear containers that looked to be made of a stiffer form of the material that held blood but filled with what appeared to be water.
I finished off the remaining packets of blood in the satchel as I studied the make-shift room, noticing a private corner behind the shelves with a cot, a table, and a comfortable looking chair.
Had Deganawida lived here?
Once finished with my blood bags, I emptied the satchel to find the clothing and boots like Nosh had told me. I easily tore off the raggedy clothes I was currently wearing and tugged on a pair of pants from the satchel, but the strange boots and undershirt didn’t fit properly. I fingered the blue fabric of the pants, wondering exactly what it was made of. It reminded me of canvas, although it wasn’t as rough.
A tag on the interior said Levi, and I wondered if that had been the name of the tailor. Regardless, it felt nice to wear clothing that wasn’t falling apart.
I stared at everything beyond the transformed living area, wondering where we were. I presumed it to be part of an extravagantly rich castle hall—a large, arched, tunnel-like hallway of some kind. I shook my head in wonder.
Behind me, the platform dropped off in a perfectly straight line with yellow paint marking the ledge. Below the ledge was a graveled, muddy area with two metal bars set into the earth that ran parallel with each other as they stretched off into the depths of the dark tunnel like twin veins of precious metal. Enough polished metal to buy a country.
Beyond the depression was another platform like mine, similarly abandoned but not illuminated and changed into living quarters. I turned to my right and saw that the platforms ended as the tunnel narrowed on the strange tracks, but this tunnel was blocked off by a gigantic metal wagon. I could only see the front of it from my position, showing me a glass window that enclosed the front. There were no lights inside, but I could see that the wagon was massive, stretching beyond the curve of the narrowing tunnel.
“Incredible,” I whispered to myself, marveling at the underground tunnel and wondering why such a thing had ever been left buried away. I turned back to my platform, shaking my head. Against the far wall, a wide set of stairs led upwards, but there were no lights to tell me where they went.
I studied the entirety of the extravagant hall. My new home, I decided, wondering what other marvels this strange palace held for me. Some instinctive part of me knew that we were underground—which was ideal since I wasn’t a fan of sunlight.
I heard a sound behind me and turned to find the trap door open, and Nosh struggling awkwardly as he tried to maneuver the orange and white chest ahead of him without falling down the ladder. He noticed me watching and grunted, craning his neck to hold the door open with his head. “Little help, please,” he grumbled.
I stared him in the eyes as I slowly lifted the blood bag to my mouth and began loudly slurping up the last drops of blood. “I’m recovering.”
He growled unhappily, contorting his body in what looked like a painful position before he finally managed to shove the chest ahead of him, sliding it across the ground.
I lowered the empty blood bag as I studied the trap door, wondering how many people had walked on this platform when the area was in use, none of them aware that my tomb was directly below them. I was surprised that I hadn’t been discovered years prior when they had first built this place. Likely, Deganawida had brought me here after the tracks were constructed, hiding me in plain sight.
“There’s more blood in the cooler if you’ve finished the others,” he said in a grumpy baritone, kicking the chest with a boot. Seeing him standing upright, I realized that he was larger than I had given him credit for. Judging by the wary look he was giving me, he must have underestimated my size as well. I wasn’t as big as most men, but I had often been broader of the shoulder, and a hand-span taller than average.
“Cooler,” I repeated, staring down at the orange crate. The chest was made of no material I had ever seen—not wood, metal, or horn—unless mankind had discovered a creature with vibrant orange bones.
Nosh flipped back the hinged lid and reached inside of the chest, never dropping his eyes from mine. Then he tossed me two more of the flexible clear bags—both pregnant with blood. I caught them and stared down at the sorcerous material, inspecting them curiously.
Who would make water-skins specifically designed for blood?
“What hellish material is this?” I finally asked, tilting the bag upside down and watching the crimson liquid inside slosh back and forth.
Nosh coughed strangely. “It’s called plastic.” I squinted up at him suspiciously, sensing amusement at my expense. Nosh smiled good-naturedly, the motion making the skin at the edge of his eyes crinkle. He was either incredibly naive or overly confident. Time would tell. Despite my instinctive doubt, something about his calm posture screamed that he was dangerous, perhaps even more-so when considering his age. What kind of boy could impress Deganawida enough to earn the title of Shaman unless he had extraordinary power? “I didn’t consider that catching you up to speed would be this difficult, but I should have,” he admitted, his tone letting me know he wasn’t mocking me.
I nodded, waiting. “Enlighten me.”
“We’ve come a long way since you went to sleep,” Nosh said, closing the lid of the chest and sitting on top of it. “Those are made of plastic,” he said, pointing at the clear bags in my hand. “You’ll see it everywhere. It’s…” he trailed off, searching for an analogy or explanation that would make sense to me.
I scowled. “I am not uneducated, boy, just unfamiliar. You’re saying that this is not magic?”
Nosh shook his head. “It’s a man-made substance we use for many things. It can be soft and transparent like that,” he said, pointing, “or it can be hardened and sturdy like this,” he said, patting the chest on which he sat. I stared from one to the other in disbelief. They were both plastic? How was that not magic? They were entirely different—one object was clear and flexible and the other was solid enough to support his bodyweight!
Then I thought about trees, and how they could be used to make paper, or how plants could be used to make clothing.
He waved a hand tiredly, urging me to drink the blood rather than discussing the history of plastic. I used my teeth to tear off the corners of the plastic and guzzled both bags in a marginally more civilized manner this
time, careful not to spill any of it. The effects were almost immediate, a pleasant buzzing sensation coursing through my body. I had recovered enough so that I could actually grimace at the stale taste of the blood. It was nothing like drinking from a fresh human, but it was all I had available to me.
My litany of pains and aches had mostly dissipated, but I could tell that the blood I was consuming was going deep into my body, healing and repairing me in ways that I wasn’t even aware of. Which meant that none of the blood was necessarily making me stronger or more powerful in a combative sense. I wasn’t even sure which of my typical powers I had access to now, if any.
Nosh watched me finish the blood, grunted, and crouched down beside his plastic chest. He rummaged inside for a moment and pulled out three more bags. He wore a frown as he turned back to me. He approached close enough for me to murder him and handed me three bags. “That’s the last of my supply. Will that sustain you until we get to my parents’ home?”
As much as I instinctively wanted to get a taste of real, fresh-from-the-source, blood, I didn’t slaughter him. I might have been the world’s first vampire—but I was a gentleman, foremost.
“Am I to understand that you are offering your parents up to me as a meal?” I asked, smirking suggestively.
Nosh didn’t laugh, and I saw a flash of deadly heat in those youthful eyes. “Drink these and we can be on our way. You still look a little piqued, obviously suffering from the delusion that you think you are funny.”
I grinned. “Don’t worry. It’s probably just the company.”
Nosh smirked at my gibe, flashing brilliantly white teeth. “Right. Well, the auction is in a few hours, so we need to get moving. You will need a suit.” He eyed me up and down. “Are you going to get any bigger after that blood or is this your usual size?”
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