They had power; there was no doubt about that.
But he did, too.
And they saw it.
“He got lucky,” the snake-woman growled; her words almost inaudible to Xander, “Kill him!”
The three started toward him again, and the swell of their emotions once again grew; the force becoming so strong that their bodies seemed to radiate with it.
But it was too much.
Xander was too angry to be afraid.
Too eager to see them suffer for everything that had happened.
Do it! Trepis urged him.
“It… it can’t be,” the snake-woman’s eyes widened then, her purposeful advance ceasing as she stared at Xander in disbelief. The analytic gaze melted to one of concern, and the woman took a step back, followed soon after by another, “S-Stryker?”
The other two, unaware of their companion’s retreat, continued to stride forward.
Trepis’ voice echoed in Xander’s head: DO IT!
“Oh no…” the woman held out her hand, “Get back!”
But the warning came too late. The excruciating heat in Xander’s body churned about in him like a boiling whirlpool; a new purpose driving it to spread. As he concentrated on the sensation, he felt the gust pick up and swirl around him, growing in intensity. When the force became too much for him to contain—too much for him to hold back any longer—he shut his eyes and unleashed it on them.
There was a series of snapping and crunching sounds accompanied by panicked screams. Driven by this, he increased the intensity of his attack. Even when the screams were silenced, he continued to let the energy whip around him; let it rip and tear until there was nothing left to feed the destructive force.
Until there was no energy left in him, and, feeling drained, he stumbled and collapsed into the dying embers.
When he finally looked up, the little boy was standing over him, his hand outstretched. As he watched through blurred vision, a man and a woman appeared behind the boy, who faded away and disappeared.
You will come with us now?
As the effort to keep himself conscious became too much, Xander finally offered a weak nod.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Odin Clan
Right after agreeing to go with them, the woman had reached down and touched her right hand on the back of his neck and a calm fog engulfed him. As the rest of the world faded away, Trepis’ voice became Xander’s only focus.
“T-Trep?” he tested his voice, unsure if he was still able to speak, “Where… where am I?”
Somewhere safe.
“How do you know?”
Trepis was slow to answer, This just seems… familiar.
The car came to a slow stop and idled as a pair of strong hands helped him out of the backseat. Once out and on his feet, he was led inside; a gentle-yet-firm hand on his shoulder keeping him steady as they walked. The building, he remembered, used to be a factory; one that had long-since gone out of business and now only served as a hangout for his peers to get drunk. The interior was decayed from years of abandonment; mildew and other offensive smells invaded his nostrils as he was led through, pulling him from his daze long enough to gag. Two voices sounded behind him, though he could not make out the words.
“What’s happening?” Xander slurred.
Just relax.
“Why are you so calm? How did you know about the people at the hospital? How—”
I don’t know! I just did! Now shut up and relax!
Though nobody had pressed a call button, an old elevator groaned and emerged from the basement. Old and unused doors screeched and rattled as the man forced them open and stood aside for them, shaking a stubborn cobweb from his palm. The woman, still holding the back of his neck, helped him over the gap and into the lift as the doors were closed behind them.
They began to descend, and the structure shook with the strain of use and their combined weight. Xander, too lost in his mental haze, could not muster the worry of the old contraption’s weaknesses and instead continued with his conversation.
“Are we going to die?”
No.
“Are you sure?”
Very much so.
“How?”
I told you: I don’t know.
The elevator reached the lower level, which proved itself to be in even worse condition than the one above it. The hand that rested on his neck moved away and Xander felt suddenly aware, the concern and fear flooding back. The voices, before foggy and incoherent, now rang in his head:
“Are you hurt?” the man’s voice cut through the fading haze.
Xander blinked, confused by the sudden wave of awareness.
“Stryker!” The voice was harsher; more demanding, “Are you hurt?”
Frowning, he turned towards the voice and was surprised to see that the speaker, though not large, possessed an intimidating quality in the way he stood. His hair was thick and dark brown, and his eyes seemed almost too green.
The man continued to stare him down, waiting on an answer, and Xander finally shook his head, “No. I’m… I’m fine.”
The woman stepped around him and came into view. She had blonde hair and blue eyes that seemed to glow with an almost electric force. Her teeth, when she smiled at him, shone like immaculate pearls.
After all the foul-breathed, scary-looking monsters that had been after him, the two were a breath of fresh air.
“Where am I?” Xander demanded, the last of the haze gone from his mind.
Xander! I already told you—
Xander shook his head to interrupt his friend and focused his eyes on the two in front of him.
The man looked at him for a moment, and then shifted his gaze over to the woman, who stepped to the side of the room and bent back as if she were about to sit down. Xander watched, bewildered, as she let gravity take her and she began to fall back before stopping in midair; reclining with a comfortable sigh on nothing. Xander stepped back, terrified that he had been taken to a secluded place by the same freaks that had tried to kill him. As he retreated, the woman looked at him and brushed a strand of hair from the corner of her face.
“We’re not freaks, and you are safe,” she said with a reassuring smile, “You should listen to”—she smirked—“Trepis for once.”
Xander narrowed his eyes at her, “How did you—”
She giggled, “We’ll explain it all to you in time.”
Xander shook his head, already fed-up with mind games, “I didn’t ask if I was safe! I asked where—”
“I know what you asked, sweetheart, but just because you asked that question first doesn’t mean that that was what you wanted answered. As to where you are”—she glanced around at their surroundings—“you’re in a dump.” She scowled, turning to her companion, “We really couldn’t find a better safe house?”
Xander felt around his jeans for his pack of cigs and pulled it out. He struck the flint on his Zippo and lit the end before finally nodding in agreement. “This is supposed to be a safe house?” he scoffed, “You know we nearly died on that elevator, right?”
She laughed and Xander reared back in surprise. Though there was nothing special in the sound—nothing abnormal or disturbing—he was taken aback by the strange echo of laughter inside his head. Suddenly feeling unsure once again, he took two steps back and bumped into the man, who had somehow moved from the other side of the room.
“I know it’s a trip at first. Believe me: I’m not even used to it! But it’s nothing to be afraid of,” he assured him.
Xander frowned back at the man and took a nervous drag off his cigarette, “I’ve been chased and attacked all day by people like you—people who could do the same things that you’re doing! Why should I trust you?”
The man opened his mouth to speak, but stopped and looked at the woman, who still floated in a seated position.
“You should trust us because, after everything that’s happened to you, you are finally where you’ve always belonged.”
The woman leaned forward, “I know that you have known nothing but pain for most of your life. I know that you hate humanity and yourself as well. I know that every night you take a black revolver you call ‘Yin’ from a velvet-lined case and hope that the one bullet within it will take your life.” She pursed her lips, looking sad—a genuine sadness; not the phony mockery of pity he’d come to know all too well—before continuing. “And I know that your mother—”
“STOP!” Xander roared, jabbing a shaky finger in her direction, “Don’t say another goddam word!”
The walls of the basement shook and rained down chunks of itself on the three of them. As it did, the woman shook in midair and dropped to the ground, a look of shock on her face. The man, looking a bit concerned, stepped away.
Without the use of her hands or feet, the woman lifted herself up, floating for a moment before her feet touched down to the dirty floor and she dusted herself off, “I’m… I’m sorry.”
The man put his hands back on Xander’s shoulder, and, though he didn’t squeeze or make a move to hurt him, there was an undeniable strength behind the grip that he knew could present itself at any moment. Knowing better to press his luck he sighed and forced himself to relax. Still resentful but knowing that nothing good could come of pushing it, he nodded to the woman in acceptance of her apology.
She smiled, though Xander could see genuine regret in her eyes, and went on. “I also know things about you that you don’t know about yourself.”
He couldn’t help but wonder what she meant by this and, despite the anger that still welled within him, calmed his voice, “What sort of things?”
“I—we—know about your father and the great things he accomplished for us during his life.” She gave a proud smile, “I knew him well and was personally trained by him. Actually, he trained many of us.”
“And who is ‘us’?” Xander asked, taking a hard, unsteady drag from his cigarette.
There was pride in the voice of the man behind Xander as he answered the question: “The Odin Clan.”
Xander sighed. Like everything else that day, the answer only brought up more questions.
****
Several hours passed while Xander’s escorts, who introduced themselves as Marcus and Sophia, waited for the sun to go down. Sophia, who expressed a preference towards ‘Sophie’, stayed silent during the wait. She stood close to Xander the whole time, keeping her hand rested on his right arm. Though there was a strange tickle from her touch, he didn’t complain.
“As I’m sure you’ve noticed by now there’s a lot of baddies creeping around just aching to turn you into a stain!” Marcus kept his voice down, “Most of them are amateurs at best, but there’s plenty gunning for you who could have easily tracked us.”
Head still reeling from the events of that day, Xander scowled at the explanation, “But why would they—”
“We’ll explain everything to you later,” Sophie offered as she gave his arm a gentle squeeze, “For now you’re just going to have to trust us.”
“Trust you? Do you know what I’ve been through today; how many freaks just like you have tried to kill me since I got up this morning?” Xander scoffed, making a point of looking around their surroundings, “Just look where you’ve taken me! Why the fuck should I trust you?”
Marcus’ eyes flashed with anger as they narrowed to furious slits and bore into him, “Because if I wanted to kill your punk-ass you wouldn’t have even seen me coming before you were dead!” He began to curl back his lip but stopped when Sophie cleared her throat. Scowling, he looked away, “And trust me, kid, you haven’t seen a ‘freak’ yet!”
Sophie sighed, “We’re not happy about being down here either, sweetie, but we couldn’t risk leading anything dangerous back to our home.”
Soon after the sun went down Marcus took out a cell phone and punched a number on the speed dial, “We’re good.”
Moments later Sophie stared towards the wall, her eyes darting back and forth for a moment before she nodded to Marcus, who returned the nod. Both motioned for Xander to follow and they headed out of the back and up a flight of stairs. Once in the car—which seemed to be the same make and model if not the same car as before—Xander faced the two and demanded to know what was going on.
It took a while to answer the question, consuming most of the long car ride. It wasn’t a hard question to answer, or at least Marcus and Sophie didn’t seem to think so, but they had to repeat themselves several times.
“So you’re all vampires?” Xander asked again with another scoff. It was the fifth time that he’d questioned the explanation, but they seemed to continue to play the game and refused to break off into giggles and confess that the entire thing had been a joke.
The car came to a stop and Marcus motioned for Xander to get out. He sighed and lifted himself from the back of the car and began to follow them up the path towards a large mansion. The structure was huge and, as far as Xander was concerned, awe inspiring.
Not at all like the headquarters for a cult…
They’re telling the truth. Trepis said.
Xander rolled his eyes, “How would you know?”
Xander, you have always known there was something more to this world, why would you stop believing now?
There was a long silence as Xander accepted this. “Know-it-all,” he muttered.
Sophie giggled and Xander glanced at her. He wasn’t used to anybody but Stan being able to hear Trepis and it wasn’t something simple to come to grips with. He shook his head in defeat and followed his two escorts towards the building.
A woman, dressed in an elegant black gown, stepped through the door. She paused on her way down the stairs and looked over to the three, lingering on Xander. A deep, red smile spread across her face then that exposed a pair of fangs.
“Is that…?” her voice was saturated in excitement.
Marcus nodded, his serious face giving way to something more.
She started towards them, her hands clasped together, “Stryker! I can’t believe—”
“Not yet,” Sophie held out a hand to stop the advancing woman. “He’s not ready.”
The woman stopped and stepped back, looking between the two and then with a sympathetic expression at Xander before nodding, “My apologies.”
With that she vanished from the room.
Xander stepped back into his escorts, unnerved, and hugged his arms around his chest. The fingers of his left hand grazed his right arm and he realized that he felt no pain. Looking down in astonishment at his forearm, he began to unwrap the bandage and saw only the jagged black patterns of his stitches.
The skin that had been torn and shredded was fully healed!
His mind raced before he looked over at Sophie, recalling her constant contact with his arm back at the old factory and the strange itch he’d felt.
He looked towards the mansion once more, taking in more sights before finally accepting the truth:
“So, you’re all vampires…”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Vampire Crash Course
Grimacing, Xander pulled on a strand of thread that was still networked in his fully-healed arm. After being shown to his room—a massive, empty space with dark-purple wallpaper and thick, matching curtains—he’d gone straight to work on them; pulling them out one-by-one.
Go to sleep. Trepis ordered.
Xander frowned, resisting the urge to yank the strand in an effort to free it, “I’m trying.”
Trepis sighed, No you’re not.
Sighing, he gave up and rolled over in bed, juggling everything he’d been introduced to that day.
He thought back to the morning several days before—had it only been that long?—and recalled Trepis telling him that the arts had tainted him. Although it was true that most who trained in the art of magic were somehow sta
ined by the effects, he was beginning to realize that what had had the biggest impact on him was ignoring the depths of the supernatural world.
He once again kicked himself for being so ignorant.
After being shown around the building, Marcus and Sophie had taken him to a private room on the lower level. Marcus had been quick to straddle a chair and rest his chin and arms on the back and checking his watch while Sophie, ignoring his anxious behavior, allowed herself to fall back and once again “recline” in midair.
“So you recognize the existence of our kind,” she began.
Xander knew that it wasn’t a question and didn’t bother to answer, not audibly anyhow.
“So what do you want explained first?” Marcus asked.
Having so many questions but not knowing where to begin, Xander stared off for a moment in an attempt to collect his thoughts. Trepis, seeming to understand some of the situation already, had remained silent.
After a long silence, Xander thought of his first question:
“My father…”
Marcus smiled and nodded, “Your father was one of the most powerful aurics—”
“I thought you said he was a vampire,” Xander had frowned at the word.
A heavy and impatient sigh came from Marcus then and he looked to Sophie with a pleading look.
“He was, sweetheart,” she’d said, “but you have to understand that ‘vampire’ is just a word—a species. There’s not just one type.”
Xander recalled feeling agitated at how easy she’d made it sound as he drew another strand of thread from his arm.
“Calm down, Xander,” Sophie had said in response to his thoughts, “It really isn’t that complex. The term ‘vampire’ is really just a generic label.” She smirked, “I prefer to call us ‘life-feeders’. To put it simply, there are those that feed on psychic energy: aurics—those like myself—and those who rely on blood to survive; sangsuigas,” she gestured to Marcus then, who, at that moment, had pulled something from his teeth, exposing for a brief moment a pair of fangs. Sophie shook her head at the display and continued, “Anyway, like all creatures, aurics and sangsuigas—or ‘sangs’ as they’ve come to be called—have abilities to make hunting and feeding easier. Sangsuigas, for example, have strength and speed while aurics rely on an energy field called an ‘aura’—”
Noir: A Crimson Shadow Novel Page 9