Slay: Stories of the Vampire Noire

by Slay (epub)

  “I’m not leaving you,” Imani said when her sister pulled her hand away. “I have to see you somewhere safe.”

  “You are not like me anymore,” Iija said. “You are like them and it makes the others nervous.”

  “Let them be nervous.” Imani felt her fangs sharpening against her other teeth. It had been more than two days since she fed, and it went without saying that her stomach growled with the anticipation of a meal as she talked to her sister. Guilty, she closed her eyes. Did she see her sister as nothing more than a cow now that she had changed?

  “I want you to be well taken care of,” Iija said. “Please go.”

  “When you are on the other side of the mountain and safe.”

  Seeing she could not hope to win against Imani’s stubbornness, Iija nodded her head. “When I am safe.”

  “There will be other traps.”

  “We know.” Iija did not have to indicate the humans who had gathered at the edge of the clearing where Imani had spent the night.

  “And you will need me to keep them off.”

  “Others do not believe that is true. They say that having you with us only leads them to us.”

  “How?”

  “Because you are one of them and the blood connects you all.”

  Imani did not know if that was true, her vampiric youth betraying her, but she knew she would not leave her sister again after realizing she was in danger.

  Thrusting the thoughts of worry away, Imani rose from her grave among the trees and took her sister’s hand. “Let’s go.”

  The humans gave her wide berth as she moved to the front of the column and took up the point. Then they began to snake their way through the jungle toward the peak above them.

  Their pursuit did not give up so easily. They allowed them to reach the summit of the mountain, quite a distance above the valley where they had been trapped but even further away from the so-called human tribes where they might be safe, before they sprang another trap.

  This time, with chilled limbs, the humans had no chance of running away. They walked through the crusts of snow with only the barest of sandals. They needed more, but they did not have it. Imani and Iija were at the point of the column when the vampires came in from either side, closing the straggling column in and shutting it off from itself.

  Imani scooped Iija up into her arms and started to run away.

  “Don’t leave them,” Iija said.

  “I cannot save them, but I will save you,” Imani said.

  More vampires appeared. More predators with sharp teeth to take her sister away from her. Imani bared her own fangs and pushed herself to run faster for all that she felt fatigue creeping up on her. Traveling several nights without feeding and pushing her powers to their limits meant she was hardly prepared for what came next.

  The tumult of humans and vampires fighting on the snow cap sent some of it tumbling down, followed by the entire snow beneath their feet giving way. Imani tried to stay above it, but she felt herself and Iija become separated. Down they tumbled, rocks and snow crushing humans and vampires alike.

  When she came to a stop, Imani opened her eyes and began to dig. Her limbs, chilled by the snow and lack of blood felt leaden, but she fought her way up to the crust of snow just the same. Her sister was not far away, her right arm broke by impact with one of the copses.

  Imani went to her and held her dearest sister in her arms.

  “Don’t let me become a cow,” she said in a pained whisper.

  Imani took the words to heart. Her sacrificial blade, the same blade through which she could pierce the gourd for her daily meal, flashed in the moonlight. Imani’s ears perked up the sound of others nearby. Others who had survived the landslide. Others who would take her sister away and make her a cow. Others who Imani had too much in common with.

  Imani brought the blade down on her sister’s throat, piercing it through. Blood gushed out the handle where Imani could sup upon it, but she let it drain out into the ground. Let the rocks know the taste of mortal blood, familial blood. Imani held her sister close as the blood and warmth drained away, leaving behind a silent shell, then she rose from her place. Taking back her knife, she emerged from the copse of trees and raised her hands.

  “You took from us,” accused one of the shadows.

  “There are none left,” Imani said as drops of blood dripped from her sacrificial blade. “All have perished on the mountain.”

  “You took from us and you led them onto the mountain to die. You are a thief and a fool.”

  “So I am,” Imani agreed. “So, I am.”

  Attack on University of Lagos, Law faculty

  Oghenechovwe Donald Ekpeki

  I remember the day my school was attacked. It was the 1st of July 2013. I remember that day vividly. That morning I strolled into the Faculty of Law lounge as I usually did, in my impossibly white shirt, spotless as a baby’s sinless heart, dark as coal trousers and brighter than a sunlight smile. Eyes in beautiful faces turned and conversations paused as I came in, a normal response and reaction to my presence. I am, after all, dashingly handsome and incredibly winsome.

  But let me proceed with the story of the attack on the faculty and school that morning rather than distract you with my looks, as I have many. As I entered the lounge, opened the Law Students’ Society office door to glance in to see who was about and receive greetings from Segun, Anjola and a couple of other LSS officials including the faculty president Femi, who, did I mention, happened to hold me in high regard, I found everyone call as usual. I went in, , ignoring both longing looks and passing glances. For yes, occasionally the stubborn will only partially glance at me, reluctant to acknowledge the dazzling charm of my looks. This is only pretense however and secretly in their heart of hearts they admit to themselves my utter desirability.

  A quick survey showed me that the lower part of the lounge was half full of students. In a corner, I noticed Chidiebere, a year one student, and brilliant Scrabble player. He is a good friend, but I didn’t bother waving at him. He was engrossed in tutoring a flock of attentive ladies over a Scrabble gameboard and didn’t look like he would appreciate being disturbed.

  I walked to the corner of the lounge and climbed the stairs leading to the upper portion. Vanessa, a year four girl, stumbled while coming down the stairs and almost fell. She smiled her thanks to my steadying hand and skipped on.

  I smiled inwardly to myself thinking “and so they keep falling for me.” At the upper part of the lounge, year two students, Dammy, Jide, Tobi, and a couple others were lounging. I sat down in one of the chairs after exchanging greetings with my folks.

  One of my friends, Osas, inquired in vernacular " how far with your Samsung Galaxy S4 way them thief last week?"

  "Oh I couldn't recover it," I responded in my usual refined tones. "So maybe I'll be getting the HTC One to get the experience of using a different product."

  Dammy inquires "why not a Blackberry Porsche?"

  "That would make a statement" I agree, "but I don't like Blackberry products and asides making the statement, I won't enjoy using it."

  I hope the reader isn’t getting bored with the story just yet. All this chitchat about phones and looks is not an attempt to be overly vain but rather show what an ordinary day it started as. It’s meant to set the pace and show you in all starkness how what started as an ordinary day, became a day of horror and foreboding. And the issue of my looks, well not that I’m a vain fellow but you see, my looks do tend to be an unavoidable part of me, even to me. Even when I try to forget them, people do not let me. But let me not bear you too far away from the interesting channel our tale is flowing through.

  I and my friends engaged in chit chat along with the other Law students in the lounge for upwards of thirty minutes. I do remember the timing impeccably, being possessed of an eidetic memory. 10.35am exactly it is, when we heard a piercing scream from one of the girls. We stopped in shock and turned to find out the reason for the scream. A pack of food
she most likely had bought from the food seller at the lower part of the lounge was open. The contents of the food pack are the reason for the scream. Instead of just tasty jollof rice with fried plantain and she must have ordered, a mass of crawling maggots and creepy insects were awash in the food pack and crawling out. The owner of the food, a popular year two girl named Munachi, who had been the cover girl for popular artiste Wizkid’s cover art, looked up in revulsion, then rushed down to probably confront the food seller. Another piercing scream and we all rushed down to find out what new horror was unfolding. When I, along with Jide, Dammy and Osas, reach the lower part of the lounge, a scene of horror greeted us. Chaos in the house of order.

  All the people who bought food appeared to be in bad shape, or at least those carless enough to have eaten the food without looking too closely at its contents. Several people were on the floor, vomiting. Some retched out organs on the floor which was fast turning bloody. Others were slumped. The unaffected people screamed uncontrollably, a good sign that they were, well, unaffected.

  Somebody rushed to the door and turned the handle, in vain. The door was locked.

  “It’s locked from the outside’’ Jide said.

  His announcement was met with silence as the frightening implications sunk in. An icy shudder ran through me. We noticed that the rest of the lounge was also silent. All the retching, dying people had completed their death throes it seemed and laid still. We surveyed the carnage in the room and one girl, Kehinde, in year two, inquired in a small scared voice

  “Are they dead?’’

  I was about to respond in a sarcastic tone that they were only catching up on lost sleep, when one of the bodies jerked. I swallowed my response. Slowly at first, then continuously, all the other bodies jerked, too, violently. Screaming and crying began anew.

  I looked at the faces of the people not crying. Even their faces reflected fear. The same fear I knew must have been reflected in my handsome features. Almost, in this instant, did I forget my good looks for everyone had forgotten it, it seemed. Almost, but not quite, for I noticed that as they whimpered, they moved closer to me. The jerking bodies stop jerking all at the same time. Then a head looked up. Fingers began to move and bodies jerked up in choppy robotic motions like we see in bad Nollywood vampire movies.

  I briefly looked at the food stand for the seller and wondered, a small part of me that she must be in some way responsible for the sale of the food converting people to the undead, and the locked door too must be her doing. There was scant time for detective work; however, as all around us the undead rose up from the corpses of dead law students.

  One of the boys, Dammy, reached for the door to the LSS office but it didn’t budge. Around us, our former law students rose up as ghoulish creatures, with bloodshot eyes and glistening fangs as they shuffled toward us. I bent to pick up an object from the floor. It was long and ornate, curved, and beautiful. I didn’t stop to wonder what a finely forged katana was doing on the floor of the law lounge. There had been strange, inexplicable occurrences and undead creatures around. It only stood to reason there would be Samurai swords too.

  Now all that was needed was a hero of the light to wield the blade and vanquish all shadowy forces that had appeared in the faculty. I was definitely hero material, 20 yards. I had the looks and now the sword too and apparently the skill as we found out when the creatures rushed in for a taste of living flesh.

  In one smooth motion, I drew the steel sword from its sheath and lopped the head off one of the creatures that had shuffled ahead of its mates. I tried not to think about the fact that it was formerly one of my mates, and likely admirer. That was one thing you don’t think if you want to survive an apocalypse.

  I commanded all the remaining Law students to get behind me as the creatures rushed into a slaughter. I was a whirlwind with my spinning sword. I didn’t disappoint the fates that had sent a sword to aid us and displayed brilliant swordsmanship and skills I never knew I had, (another reason for the reader to watch samurai and ninja movies.) You never know when an apocalypse will happen and a hero will be called.

  After cutting up the last undead Law student, (regrettable that, but necessary for survival) I sheathed my sword in a flourish. I was just about to say that we should find a way out of the lounge when the LSS office door burst open and something grabbed one of the girls. It was the Munachi girl in year two.

  The creature holding her was different from the rest of the creatures. This one had the fresh, almost normal face of someone still alive, that of the food seller in the lounge who we reasoned must be responsible for this whole fiasco. The food seller creature had long leathery wings and glistening fangs in its human mouth, all of which contributed to make a truly hideous face. I pulled out my sword and noticed the blade was glowing. A blue nimbus of light surrounded the blade, likely a reaction to the evil food seller creature.

  At the sight of my glowing sword, she flinched back in fear.

  “Putsss down your weaponsss. Puts it down or thisss one diessss,” it rasped through its hideous fangs.

  Yeah, right. Put down my weapon and be lunch.

  On the same vein, I couldn’t very well let the Munachi girl, my classmate, be eaten by the vampire queen. I glanced back at my remaining companions with raised eyebrows. Dammy shook his head and mouthed a silent no. I knew what I had to do. I tossed my sword to the floor.

  The food seller creature’s eyes were on the sword, watching it as it fell to the ground. That was instinct. It kept its eyes on the feared weapon and I knew this.

  I didn’t watch the sword. I moved. I launched the sword’s scabbard straight at it while it was distracted by the falling sword and bent to scoop it up.

  I was not quick enough; however, for as I picked up the sword and rushed at the queen, I noticed it had already dodged the missile and was reaching for Munachi’s neck with its fangs in anger.

  Time slowed.

  I raced to defeat not just her, but time and space. Would I make it; would I be in time to save a lovely damsel in distress?

  For that was a hero’s most sacred task.

  I strove to fulfil that role with my sword outstretched and my body hurtling through space. Skin is pierced and flesh is rent. Munachi screamed and fell to the floor, unharmed as my sword pierced the monster in the mouth, directly between the fangs it had sort to end a damsel’s life. She looked at me gratefully while sobbing in relief and the others rushed to comfort her. I pulled my sword from the dead monster’s carcass.

  A while later, we heard pounding on the door and I pulled my sword, took a few steps back and waited for the next foe. Tired but determined, I knew there was only so much a handsome hero could do. A bunch of keys rattled. One was inserted into the keyhole and turned. The door swung open and we all breathed a sigh, in relief.

  It was the faculty president, Femi and the Faculty Dean, Proffessor Onadeko, coming to tell us that the school has been overrun. We all rushed out to find the school outside the Law faculty in chaos. Undead students everywhere, living students caught and eaten, and flying vampires, like the food seller, sailed through the air on leathery wings. They snatched students from the ground and consumed them in the sky, leaving their mangled bodies to drop to the earth.

  The sky itself was dark and cloudy from the smoke billowing from the topmost floor of the Senate building that housed the VC’s office. I shook my head in despair and hoped there were more swords, more heroes for this one was weary and wounded. I put a hand to my shoulder, and it came away wet with blood for as I stabbed the food seller creature, its claws had torn my flesh. I felt sluggish and dizzy. Who knew what venom would be coursing through me now?

  But I smiled my charming smile at one of my companions who smiled back bravely, and I drew my sword as one of the creatures swooped in.

  As long as there were monsters to slay and people to save, tired heroes would keep fighting.

  His Destroyer

  Samantha Bryant

  When Dienihatiri c
losed her eyes on the pain of the beating she had earned by birthing a girl-child again, she never expected to open them. Her end had come and she fell into darkness praying that the daughter she had born would be allowed to live, that her life might offer a greater chance at happiness, or that God might welcome them both in peace.

  When she woke, she was wrapped for burial. Thin cloth bound her, obscuring her vision. No one sat with her body, so when she freed herself from the rough matting, no one witnessed her rise to her feet or saw her walk out into the darkness, burial cloth dangling from her like a tattered cape.

  In the abandoned streets, evidence of great destruction spread. Burnt out hulls of dwellings crawled with locusts and broken pots littered the streets. Dienihatiri’s eyes widened with dismay. What had happened here? Had the city been attacked? Maybe it was good that she’d been mistaken for dead. It might have saved her life.

  The city was so altered that she was no longer sure which direction would lead to her home, so she made her way toward the river instead. Though the sky was moonless and devoid of stars, she had little trouble making her way. As if the ground were illuminated, each stone and pit of the pathway stood out clearly and she made her way without stumbling.

  The night air cooled and soothed her skin. As she walked down the hill to the river, she noticed how good she felt--strong, full of energy. Though her last memory was of a beating from the overseer of the woman’s house, her body moved without stiffness or pain. Despite her near nudity, she was not cold. Her only physical discomfort was a hollow hunger. She worried more for her daughter, confused about what had happened to her.

  At the bottom of the long hill that led to the great Nile river, she saw a pillar of light, white and swirling, long enough it seemed to stretch from the earth to the heavens and perhaps beyond. Something about it filled her with joy and fear at the same time and she hurried toward the terrible glory, even while part of her trembled to think what she might find when she arrived.