by Fox Lancet
“What if it kills me?” He met Kaleb’s stare with his new colored eyes before he moved his attention to his fellow Vampires. They watched him, thoughtfulness crossing their features.
“What if it makes you stronger?” Elijah interjected. It was Kaleb’s turn to eye his brothers, the statement already a question in all their minds. No one knew for sure.
“Do you wish to bring a Vampire less valuable?” Jacob offered. Omness’s blue gaze drifted to Kaleb’s wrist again, deliberating.
After a few long minutes, Omness decided, “I think it would be wise to have someone else feed on him.”
Kaleb dropped his arm.
“Argh, get him off of me!” Sedrick snarled, attempting to rip his neck out of the other Vampire’s mouth. Jacob and Elijah had already been on their way to wrest the Vampire away from him. With some effort they managed to pry him from Sedrick’s neck. Sedrick dropped to his knees, holding the lesion and breathing erratically. Kaleb did not suppose the creature needed air, instead assumed that it was a reaction to the rage or fear he had just experienced.
“Well, that answers the first of many questions to come.” Kaleb stood at a wall far from the action. They were in a stone cellar now, a dungeon where deviant Vampires were kept and punished.
“I always wanted to feed on an ancient. And boy, was it what I’d always hoped.” The Vampire’s name was Mordekai. He tugged slightly against Elijah’s and Jacob’s grips. Mouth gaping, dark blood drooled from it and slid down his pale chin. His smile was treacherous and his eyes were a blazing blue, threatening to ignite at any moment. They swayed toward Kaleb. “But your kind…your kinds is far more potent.”
Rather than offer up his own royal blood, Elijah had been the taste test. “I can feel your otherworldly power coursing through me like Hell hath finally truly possessed me. And I will have more!” His teeth made an audible crack when they snapped on air where Jacob’s arm had been. When Mordekai growled and turned to try again, Jacob’s arm had already snaked around the Vampire’s neck, locking his head in place.
“Not today, oh gluttonous one,” Jacob spoke quietly, tightening his hold. Mordekai tried to speak, but choked under the obstinate hold. His lip curled and his body relaxed, realizing it would be a lost cause to fight.
“I guess the next question is how long will he feel the effects?” Kaleb crossed his arms, staring thoughtfully at Mordekai, whose gaze rested furtively on Kaleb.
Sedrick was already standing again, the bite wound on his neck closing rapidly. He stared acrimoniously in Mordekai’s direction.
“So we can obtain your power if we feed from you. Maybe for minutes, maybe for days. Mordekai has made this very clear. Perhaps reaching so low was not such a wise step in this situation. He is the last Vampire I would like to see having such gifts.” Omness paced slowly back and forth in front of the restrained Vampire.
“We should just end him. For all we know, he will have their powers forever and we don’t need a rogue like him running around with such abilities.” Sedrick spit on the floor at Mordekai’s feet.
He didn’t react and continued to stare at Kaleb with a smirk. His hair was stringy, brushing in pieces across his forehead. Sedrick’s blood was just a smear across his chin now.
Kaleb stared at the bloodied Vampire. He cringed inside, and only inside. Why did he have to convince a race of blood-drinkers to join him in a cause against blood-shedders? He had to keep reminding himself that they were different, weaker, with more reason. Vampires had to feed on blood to live. Demons shed blood by their own volition, without cause, without care. At least all but their own; they frowned upon killing one another, but anything else that moved died.
Kaleb knew the Seraph King, Mosiah, was dead merely for his title and that being unable to inherit that title had kept Kaleb from becoming a direct target. But Nefarion was his goal, regardless of how the evil Lord discounted him.
The Vampires’ voices, and occasionally Jacob’s, continued on as Kaleb and Mordekai stared at one another, while Kaleb’s thoughts fell further and further backward in time.
Why had this all begun? From what Kaleb had learned, Trissana was once a world brimming with life, housing numerous races. Now they were few and far between. Seraphs were the largest population of survivors, though only a fraction against what Demons still walked. Then here and there were Witches, Slecktics, and Tealors. The latter extremely rare. If it had once supported so much life, where and when did the Demons’ genocide come from?
Mordekai started laughing, slow and deep. “Perhaps if you let me taste the blood of your nemesis, I can answer the questions that plague your face.”
Kaleb focused again, his lower eyelid twitching at the Vampire’s remark.
“Or perhaps your royal blood could tell me all the same.” He suddenly jerked from Jacob’s grasp and even Kaleb found it difficult to track him through the room.
The Seraph Prince growled, pulling from the wall and readying for a fight. He stared forward, letting his surroundings blur so movement was the most prolific in his vision. A moment later, Mordekai dangled by his neck from Kaleb’s right hand, grip unforgiving. Kaleb’s eyes burned, their light falling across the creature’s ghostly face, creating sharp shadows that revealed more evil then Kaleb would care to see.
“All you had was to ask,” Kaleb said quietly, lifting the wrist of his left arm toward Mordekai’s open mouth. He brushed the skin of his wrist across one of the Vampire’s fangs, only letting it linger long enough for a few drops to land in his mouth.
“Was that such a good idea, Prince?” Jacob was nearby, having shifted closer after he lost control of his captive.
“I guess we will find out.” Kaleb held fast to the Vampire’s neck, watching him carefully.
Mordekai’s fingers were wound loosely around Kaleb’s arm; he hadn’t spoken or moved since he had been caught. After a moment, his grip suddenly tightened and his mouth snapped shut. Then his eyes brightened like a Seraph’s in combat. It lasted several minutes before the light vanished and Mordekai was gasping, trying fruitlessly to wrest out of Kaleb’s hand. He stopped and suddenly became aware of his surroundings again, his eyes darting off all the walls and the faces he could manage to see.
“What a rush,” he exclaimed. “And what an enemy you have. I like ‘em.” Mordekai choked when Kaleb’s grip tightened.
“What did you see?” Kaleb demanded.
“Not much. Probably not more than what you already know and see. Red sun, pink moons, waterless, dry expanses. Creatures I’ve never seen. What you truly look like, what your enemy truly looks like. Healers with wings, dragons. So much, but so little. Perhaps if you gave me more I could see more.”
“I will do no such thing. If I wish a Vampire to tell me if he can see before my life through my blood, it will by no means be you.”
“Share your blood with no one! It is mine!” Mordekai struggled fervently again, his hands swiping out at Kaleb, who was just out of reach. “I saw. I saw it all, you filthy Prince. But I will not tell you any of it without more!” Kaleb glanced to Omness and the other two Elder Vampires who looked on with attentiveness. Tiny, blue veins began appearing under Mordekai’s skin, his brilliant sapphire gaze becoming frantic.
“Is this creature always so eager for more?”
“Not at all. He is reserved and extremely crafty. I have never seen him so…” Omness’s attention was rapt while he searched for the proper word. “…voracious. Even when we starved him in punishment, he never let the hunger get to him in such a manner.”
“If I tell you? Please?” He had calmed his movements, but his face was carved in desperation and thin rivulets of blood appeared on his face like sweat.
“Withdrawal.” It was Wriel who spoke, her voice elegant. “He is experiencing withdrawal of the Seraph blood.” She stepped in for closer inspection, her heel clicking sharply against the stone floor.
“From the Seraph blood, or from the Royal Seraph blood?” Sedrick joined her. “Short-
lived power then death?”
Kaleb glanced at Jacob then Elijah before looking at Mordekai again, whose gaze was locked onto him. “Fine, tell me where the Demons of Trissana come from.”
Mordekai bore his teeth in response, a thwarted grimace. He blinked rapidly and shook his head, flicks of blood-sweat flinging from his face. “I…I…I didn’t see that, that part. I…I saw them there. I saw great kingdoms razed to ash.”
“Why?” Kaleb shouted, his fingers digging into the skin of the Vampire’s neck.
“I...I.” Mordekai licked his lips hungrily. “His head. One of you took his head, a beast of coiling horns. He rose again like a Vampire from the grave, from beneath red sand.” A manic laugh emanated from his throat, his lips pressed together tightly.
With a sudden burst of strength, Mordekai tore from Kaleb’s grip, the skin of his neck ripping away. And the next action any of them saw was the heavy wooden door that had been barring the room bursting into pieces and a glimpse of a shadow disappearing through it.
“Catch him!” Kaleb demanded, but Jacob and Elijah were already through the door. He did not follow, rather considered the Vampire’s claim and decided to avoid allowing the creature another taste of his blood. He felt the Elder Vampires’ eyes on him.
“He once was dead. Nefarion is a Demon Lord restored.” Kaleb stepped back, the thought seeming to put him off balance. Does he himself not know how this all began? This he kept to himself.
“A mile west of Broadway? A vacant warehouse beside a condemned factory? We should leave now. I appreciate your assistance in this matter, Illid. I will keep you informed.” Jacob pulled the phone from his ear and jammed it back into his pocket. “Some of the Vampires have located the Demons’ possible lair. Apparently they had a sentinel set up in that area who has been missing for some time now. It is assumed that Hunter or Syler found and removed him before he could relay their location.”
“Well, they have it now. And the Demons also have what they came looking for. Let us move out before they do,” Kaleb replied.
They had given up the chase for Mordekai after a half-hour, realizing that he was long gone. The Elders put out an alert and assumed the rogue would be returned within the week.
“My apologies for cutting this meeting short, but this information is of dire import and must be acted upon immediately. You are more than welcome to accompany us, that way you might witness what exactly it is that your people will be up against.”
Omness shook his head shortly, lifting a hand to punctuate the gesture. “No, I would rather us discuss our findings among ourselves. We will be in touch.” He turned, Wriel and Sedrick following him out the door without a backward glance.
17
Possessed
Sandra rolled her eyes, her breath hitching in her belly. Nausea roiled through her body and her stomach responded hastily. The vomit tore from her in a burning torrent.
“Fuck me,” she grumbled, spitting again and again, to relieve any remnants of the foul fluid from her mouth. After reaching a quivering hand to the baby blue tissue box on the back of the toilet, she blew her nose and wiped her lips. She remained propped over the toilet bowl for several seconds before slumping to the side of the tub in surrender.
A beautiful image of Hunter flashed through her thoughts. Black strands of hair dangling across his impossibly black eyes with their impossible red glow, his glimmering muscles straining to procure the two of them with the most avid pleasure possible. Her hand jerked to her head, a smile lifting one corner of her mouth. “There’s no fucking way,” she breathed to herself.
“Ms. Whiskey, let’s get goin’. We’re gonna be late for work.” A light, harmonious voice attempted to break through the hollow wooden door. Frailty.
“Coming, Talia.” Sandra stood with sudden fervor. She faltered a step toward the door. “I’m just not feeling so amazing.” With a light hand, she pulled the door back. Frailty stood, a slender young woman with perky breasts that matched her perky hips, both sandwiching her small waist. Brown, glittering hair curled past her shoulders. Probing, muddy eyes immediately penetrated their subject.
“You’re pregnant, you slut,” Frailty denounced with a coiling of her lips and squinting of her eyes. “How could you break the cardinal fucking rule, Sandra!” The use of her real name meant all seriousness and it showed on the stripper’s face. Frailty’s coiling mouth had dropped to a condemning frown, her eyes darkening in betrayal.
“Whoa, whoa, step back, killer! I have always used a condom. I have only been with one John since my last period!” Whiskey pushed through the door, lifting a palm toward her friend on her exit.
“No fucking John, girl, more like Hunter, your sex god!” Frailty twirled after her. Whiskey clenched her teeth, pulling at the ends of her burgundy-dyed hair.
“No! There’s no way. Condom. A silver Trojan. No joke. I remember like it was a YouTube video I watched just five fucking minutes ago.”
“Breakage. I knew we should have pilled it. God damn it!” Frailty clacked across the living room floor in her clear plastic platform heels and plopped onto the sofa. She stared fixedly at the glass coffee table, her head shivering in denial.
Most of the strippers at the club wore street clothes in and out of work, but Sandra and her roommate, Talia, only lived a block and a half from the club and both felt walking over in short dresses in the summer helped get them into the mentality for work.
“God, what are the statistics of that kind of stuff? How were we supposed to know? It’s not a big deal. It was only over a month ago. I have plenty of time to think about it.” Whiskey didn’t sit, trying to act casual while she slid a soft purple dress on. It barely covered her ass.
“Think about it?” Talia stood again, snatching a similar white dress off the back of the couch. “What is there to think about? What is there…” Frailty stopped herself from repeating her surprise. “What, Sandra?” she almost screamed.
“Oh my god, please relax.” Whiskey spread all ten of her fingers at her roommate. “There’s no reason to be hasty when innocent life it at hand.”
Frailty flexed her jaw, glaring at Whiskey. “Innocent life? Get the fuck out of here.” She rested her weight back on one foot, crossing her arms over her chest. “Your life. A new one can have no chance at innocence if the mother isn’t ready to support it.”
Whiskey headed for the door, shaking her head emphatically, a hand up, signifying that she was done with the conversation.
“God damn it, Sandra!” Talia stepped out of one of her shoes, bent to retrieve it, and threw it passionately past Sandra’s head. It slammed into the window beside the front door, making a crack in the glass like ice. Sandra twirled to face her, mouth parted wordlessly. “What is wrong with you? This is a topic that’s always been important to the both of us for almost a decade and you’re just going to sit here and wave it off like it is no big deal.” Her shoe had clattered back in front of her and she replaced it.
Whiskey continued to face her, but her brown eyes focused on the floor. “It’s different once it happens. It’s one thing to talk it then to live it, Frail.” She paused. “I can’t explain it and I don’t feel like I should have to; you’re my friend.”
Frailty sighed exasperatedly. “And that’s why you should explain it to me, because I am your friend and I want to understand. Neither of us is ready to have kids, we both agreed to that and you’ve never told me otherwise.”
“Come on, we’re gonna be late. I’ll try and explain some of it on the way over. You’ll look at me like I’m crazy though. At least you can think it over at work.” Whiskey opened the front door and ambled out with Frailty following hesitantly.
Once on the sidewalk, Whiskey set a quick pace for the two of them. She neglected talking at first, trying to form the right words. Frailty cleared her throat. Snagging some curls up behind her ear, Whiskey finally spoke.
“There’s something I didn’t tell you about Hunter. I didn’t tell you because I wasn’t
sure how important it was or if it was even anything or if I was just crazy.” She pulled her tiny white purse further up onto her shoulder.
When she didn’t go on, Frailty mumbled, “And?”
Whiskey blew out a breath. “I’m pretty sure he’s not fully human,” the words stumbled from her mouth quickly. They were close to the alley that cut to the back door of their work. Frailty didn’t answer immediately.
“Well, what do you mean exactly? Like how?” She wondered, jogging momentarily to keep up with her roommate.
“Like, he acted like he didn’t know about the weirdest things. Like birthdays, or virginity. Talia, I’m pretty sure he’d never had sex before. And when he got frustrated, or excited, or whatever it was, his eyes got this weird red glow. But even with him not having had sex before, he was amazing at it, like I’ve told you a hundred times.”
“Wait, wait. But, okay, so say he isn’t human, wouldn’t you want to get rid of this pregnancy even more?”
They were halfway down the alley.
“See, that’s the thing. I think that’s why I don’t want to get rid of this. I feel obligated to have it. Like it’s created some sort of connection to me. I love it, he’s mine, and I want to keep him.”
Frailty was shaking her head again as they entered the strip club.
“Hey, Simon.” Whiskey lifted a manicured hand in greeting to the bouncer just inside the door.
“Good evening, ladies.”
Frailty waved quickly. “He, huh? And you better not be doing this to try to trap Hunter. He was no one, just a one night stand. You don’t even have his number!”