Existence: A Dark Paranormal Fantasy (The Devilgod Series Book 1)

by S. C. Lewis

  Santiago and Valentino had been in this kind of life longer than the rest of us, and wanted no one to forget it.

  Santiago removed his hat. His long, black mane was neatly groomed, dangling loosely down his broad shoulders rather than pulled back. Both vampires were quite dashing in their erstwhile vampire style. They were dominating creatures that wanted my position, because they felt they were the elders and entitled to rule over us.

  “We- Valentino and I- wanted to do something very special for you, Sophia,” Santiago said curving his lip. He tucked the cane under his arm as he spoke.

  “Yes,” Valentino said inspired by Santiago’s words.

  They talked one after the other, starting first with Santiago. After his every word Valentino would follow with a few of his own, or finish the sentence for Santiago.

  At times, I wondered whether Valentino thought for himself, since he seemed to follow Santiago in every sense of the word. Although he seemed to me like the more dominant vampire, compared to Santiago. Yet in spite of my fears, he followed Santiago without question.

  “We’d like to volunteer our time in any way we can, Lady Sophia. This way it won’t take time away from Eric’s many other tasks.”

  Tasks? What did they care whether or not I got my job done?

  “I agree.” Valentino smirked as he bowed his head to Sophia.

  The tiny smile on Sophia’s face seemed to wither, and she could barely meet their gazes to answer. She was always the shy one, but when it came to Santiago and Valentino, their aggression made her tremble.

  Filled with anger, I held back as Sophia’s hold on my arm tightened. Had they frozen her into a corner at last? How would she answer to their obvious flirtation; it didn’t appear she knew how to reply to such a bogus request. Would she say yes, because she saw no other escape from this? Or was she waiting for me to save her from this confrontation?

  “What do you gentlemen suggest?” she finally whispered; it was a wonder they heard her.

  “We can take care of you,” Santiago suggested, inching closer.

  “Very good care of you,” Valentino continued. “After all, you’ll need all the help you can get in your delicate condition.”

  Sophia’s lips tightened, and the smirk on both Santiago’s and Valentino’s faces grew, until Damien came into the picture. Damien, who was a true friend to Sophia and who always spoke her mind, on just about everything. Dressed in a long black-laced dress and black leather boots, she bounced right into the conversation, ignoring Santiago and Valentino, who couldn’t help but shift their bodies to distance themselves from her, as if she had a rare disease.

  She wore all sorts of crucifixes crowding her narrow neckline; black eyeliner made up her brown eyes, and her lips were caked in a bright bold red. Pale like the others, a ghost in black satin and lace, with long black gloves and rings on every finger, a regular child of the night. She smiled, flashing the double canines from the parted, painted lips of her mouth.

  “I’m afraid that position has already been filled, gentlemen,” I said, as Damien took hold of Sophia’s hand and pulled her away from us.

  “Sorry, guys. Excuse us,” Damien uttered, giggling.

  Damien made faces at the Elders as she dragged Sophia with her. No one was more qualified for the job than her, and she was going to make sure everyone knew that.

  The ladies, along with Riccardo, disappeared through the office doors; only Angelo, Damon, and I were left to eye the growling Elders. All the guys were standing tall, like roosters in a hen house.

  Again, the same grimace dropped from Santiago’s face, flooded with envy and jealousy. He charged closer, seeming to disappear in the pale office light, staring me down. Heat from his breath touched my cold cheek, as I stood inches from him. I backed off without expressing a speck of fear. Such an indication would surely have given him a tiny victory. People like him couldn’t stand anyone like me, a child of lace, to tell them what to do.

  “I would watch my step if I were you, Eric,” Santiago threatened, curving his lip and smirking slightly.

  “Is that a threat?” I couldn’t get over the fact that my reaction to this impasse was to be this other man’s, if you could call him a man.

  His eyes flared from their sockets like hot marbles, and his nostrils were wide and expending in the same exact style.

  He pushed the stringy bits of hair from his face, lifting his head up and tossing the strands back. Holding his gaze, he stepped back a slight bit, sighing; then, he grinned.

  “You must be jealous that Sophia will lose interest in you. That she will come to realize what a loser you truly are. Or are you simply noticing that she finds me more attractive? Which one is it, Eric?”

  “Attractive? Let’s get something straight here, Santiago. Sophia happens to be married to our boss, Nathan. If she finds anyone attractive, it’s him, not you, nor I for that matter.”

  He smirked. “It doesn’t matter. Sophia can’t deny her true feelings for me. Just like every other woman, single or married, they all want me. She’s no different; she’s just more gorgeous.”

  “He’s jealous.” Valentino sneered.

  Boiling angry, I shoved against him, baring my fangs in a snarl. How dare he speak of Sophia like that?

  “You have a lot of nerve after all she’s done for us! Why can’t you respect her? You bastard!”

  “Back off, Eric!” Santiago growled, spreading his lips back and flashing his own fangs at me.

  “Jealous,” Valentino mocked from beside Santiago.

  “I suppose he is.” Santiago gleamed; the snarl on his face vanished, and he regained his composure once more. Nonetheless, it was the twisted smile of a demented, or at least tormented, demon.

  “We’ve never fought with one another, maybe the norms, but never one another.” Damon said trying to extinguish the flare between us. He stepped beside us. “Let it go,” he firmly said.

  “Yeah, no one is better, we’re all equal here. We stand for the same things. Why can’t you two just accept that?” Angelo asked, stepping alongside me.

  His long, bluish-white hair came down over his shoulders, glittering from his head. His eyes were white, sparkling, while his face was painted in a whitely glimmered shimmering shine. He was the vast, throbbing and overpowering whiteness of us all. He sparkled like a disco ball, so it didn’t come to anyone’s surprise why we called him “Disco Angelo,” or why others would call him Disco Vampire.

  “We’re not the same! Not with you! Not with any of you! I should be leading this coven. I shouldn’t be told what to do by a bunch of children in lace!”

  “Children?” mumbled Damon, glancing back at Angelo.

  “Did he just call us children?”

  Angelo shrugged his shoulders.

  I stepped back, with a smile across my face.

  “So, this is what it’s all about?” I paused, still looking at Santiago. “Listen, Santiago, Sophia chose me. That was her decision.”

  “An easy mistake. I don’t blame her,” he rudely uttered, allowing the attractive Spanish accent to slip from his dry mouth.

  “Do I have to remind you what happened when Sophia granted your wish? You fell on your ass miserably. Remember that?”

  Long ago, Sophia had given all the tasks to Santiago, that errant member who claimed he wanted for some responsibility and leadership. He was given my position for a month.

  When he discovered he had to work, he was distraught. What did he think a leader did? He discovered he had to write the checks for the bills of the Cathedral, plus other miscellaneous bills, then deal with the vamps’ allowances, plus the liquor orders had to be filled, as well as help Sophia schedule all the appointments and duties.

  After a month of this, he quit, leaving me to deal with the mess; luckily for me, I had already taken care of most of the things. It wasn’t a big deal.

  Santiago glared straight at me with fire erupting from his eyes and face. Angelo and Damon came to stand beside me, and made the
ir vampire grins visible to Santiago. Their tall gangly forms shadowed behind me protectively, as a shield from the menacing Elders. A friendly vampire warning, that’s all it was. When one bares his fangs, it can mean a whole lot of things. In this case it meant, back off!

  It makes you question why the Elders ever put up with all of it. Oh, sure they could have left, rather than put up with a younger vampire bossing them around, but that was never an option for Santiago or Valentino. I mean, where would they go? Sophia gave them everything, a generous allowance to do as they pleased, a place to sleep, independence the outside world couldn’t offer them. They ate here; they partied here and played. This was home, a real home.

  Believe me, they weren’t stupid. All they had to do was be themselves, with no one to tell them they couldn’t.

  Santiago’s eerie chuckle startled me. His grimace suddenly revealed his fangs to me, and a very faded hiss dropped from his parted mouth. A sure sign he was willing to go with the flow for as long as it took.

  The two vampires strolled out the office doors, with Santiago holding onto Valentino’s arm tightly; tall and standing proudly, the two Elders left the room with their hideous chuckling fading behind them.

  Again, the same thought came into my mind as before: if only Ramiel were here. Just then Angelo said those very same words.

  “Man, if Ramiel were here, he’d put those two in their place…”

  “No doubt about it, Angelo.”

  I edged near the door and took a peek inside. I caught sight of Mr. Abuda at the very end of the office, seated in the leather chair that had once belonged to his mother, Sophia. I stepped back, afraid to enter, and for a second, I couldn’t make myself go inside. I wanted to walk away, but he spotted me immediately and there was no luck of escaping now.

  Slowly, I stepped in, nervously trembling, and desperately trying to hide the fact that I was. I walked over to his desk and stood quietly in front of him.

  Mr. Abuda silently was looking over some business documents. He didn’t rise nor grin, or even say hi. Mr. Abuda never grinned. His dark hair fell slightly over his pale face. He was a man who was mostly withdrawn, and barely smiled. His face lay vacant; human expressions were saved only for his mother.

  As a matter of fact, some of the others have come to call him “the Prince” because he reminded them of his mother’s fictional character in her novels. The one who didn’t smile. The coldhearted fiend with expressions made of stone. The occasional smirk only to send fear into the hearts of others. If he ever found out what he was called, I feared what his reaction would be.

  Yet we treated him like a little brother. The Vampire Elders had given him all their guidance and wisdom. No matter how remote they had appeared to us, they had taken the time to shape the handsome form that had now come to frighten us all. It had never been their fault or his. Why he had turned out so cruel? I could never answer that.

  We all loved him from the very moment he was born, and for that reason it strangely puzzled me that I feared him. Why was I nervous when in his presence? He had changed in some way or another, my senses kept assuring me. There was something different about him that couldn’t be placed.

  I closed my eyes; the sounds around me were familiar, as well as the smells surrounding me. Only when I opened my eyes again did I find myself in that hospital, sitting with the others, waiting.

  I rose from the seat with great excitement, my heart beating wildly against my chest. The others rose with me, watchful and alert, hoping to see the nurse appear and announce the new Prince of the Cathedral. But no nurse arrived, and the excitement seemed to die from their faces as nurse after ghostly nurse passed us by without a word of Sophia’s condition.

  Santiago and Valentino were by themselves again, a distance from the group, once more gazing out the windows of the second-floor building. They were just as excited, but showed us very little of their eerie happiness. Though already well beyond their made-up faces, I could almost detect their plans with the baby. Perhaps a growing need to teach him in their ways, to have him hate us and to have him obey them. To cautiously foster the little Prince that would one day take his father’s place in the Cathedral; I was hoping that this would prove well for them. To earn his approval now would surely be wise.

  The nurse finally came; she appeared in the long hallway, flagging us down as we rose to rush to her side. As she approached, her eyes widened, and she stared up and down at us. It took a couple of seconds for her to gather the words.

  For a moment she stared blankly at us, examining our costumes. I wasn’t surprised, but was too used to the idea of people staring to let it bother me. The others, though younger, felt the same way, but at times had a way of making people feel stupid.

  “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Damien remarked.

  The others just laughed out loud, but it seemed the naïve nurse had barely heard anything before she snapped from out of her trance.

  She gazed at me, the only one not laughing, the only one smiling warmly up at her with any modicum of human understanding. The only one friendly enough to hush the others, with a simple and benevolent snap of my fingers. Could this be the leader? Her confused face seemed to question.

  Santiago and Valentino had already hurried to the huddling cowl of black lace and crucifix-wearing children of the night and were a step behind, staring and looking menacing at the woman.

  “Eric?” She asked trembling, “Are you Eric?” Her voice was shaky, with a difficult smile forming upon it. She didn’t know what to make of us; most didn’t. I blamed ignorance; others would blame the attire.

  “Yes, that is I,” I answered in my most sinister tone of voice.

  “Are they all with you, too? You are with the Abuda family?”

  “Yes…” I answered, my voice hissing and revealing the canines from the folds of my lips. “Can we see our Lady?”

  Again, she seemed to awaken as if from a trance, her eyes gazed back up at mine. Once again there was laughter from the others, who flashed their fangs at her in their grins.

  “Yes, please follow me,” her voice croaked with great difficulty and tribulation rising barely above their laughter.

  I turned and eyed the others, snapping my fingers for their volunteered silence. They obeyed as we walked down the hospital hallway, aiming ourselves straight towards Sophia’s unit.

  The nurse led us to a single room at the end of the hallway, where it was silent and quite abandoned, a perfect spot for privacy.

  As we entered, I saw Nathan seated next to Sophia’s bed, Sophia was sitting up, and in her arms, she held her baby.

  Damien and the others raced to her side to catch a look at the Young Prince.

  I took my turn after all the others had their turn, gazing down at the lovely boy in Sophia’s arms. Only when Sophia called me to sit by her did I get to hold him. No one had been given such an honor; of all the other vamps, I was the only one, and yet none of the others were jealous.

  I held the baby in my arms carefully with Sophia’s help; the others crowded us and kneeled around me, taking turns touching and patting his wicked black nest of hair. He was a lovely boy, so tiny with the thickest, most nebulously ebony nest of hair on his head, even for an infant. So plump, as small and tiny as a peach, pink and soft as a rose petal. His hair was soft like silk, placid like a gentle feather. Whatever temptations were there, I neatly held in total check.

  He stirred only for a second in my embrace. Through his tiny mouth a small yawn escaped, and even his tiny tongue poked out from his protruding, moist lips, with insignificant tendrils of twisting drool bubbling from his bottom suctioning tool. He was more than ready to nurse.

  Away in sleep he remained, huddled like plum trees swept over from the mighty wind, with those enormous ruddy cheeks making his cute, little bottom lip stick out. He was adorable.

  “He’s beautiful,” I whispered to Sophia, who capably and primly smiled.

  Only when I stared up at her did I catch the e
yes of the Elders by the end of the bed, clearly waiting their turns. Their rightful turns, they had always argued and fought for so well.

  “May we see him, Lady Sophia?” Santiago politely asked, over the whispers and the laughter of all the others, who were examining the baby beside me.

  Sophia slowly turned and froze with their shadowy presence, then nodded, as did the other vamps.

  “Eric?” Sophia turned to me. I nodded, rose with the baby in my arms and walked over to them carefully, and very slowly. Much too slowly for my own personal comfort.

  The others gazed up and rose to watch the approval of the Elders at that moment. It was as if without their approval, young Seth, Prince already of this great realm, would not get what was by birth rightfully his. By the law in Vampire Reality, the Elders had their say-so, and their opinions. Though the others mightn’t like them, and even if they liked to think otherwise, the Elder’s opinions mattered. And their blessing was as important as the belief that their rich blood would give you their power.

  Again, the baby stirred in my arms, but never opened his eyes or awakened from its slumber. Santiago came closer and touched the infant gently on his forehead, drawing a pentagram with his finger. He swiftly tilted the baby’s black nest of hair back, and indicated to Valentino the small but noticeable widow’s pike- a true notion of his vampiric inheritance.

  After further examining the baby, Valentino nodded and gave the infant his blessing again by drawing the special and perverse pentagram in the air over the baby’s forehead. Finally, Santiago blessed him with a Satanic prayer, and kissed his head softly. Like a priest, Santiago ended his prayer; as the others softly whispered the same words, ending the prayer with a most complete act of rejoice.