The Dark Messiah

by Michael Anderle

  Jacqueline pressed her mouth together, “She needs medical attention,” she nodded to the guy Michael was holding, “his arm is probably out of its socket.” Michael jerked up real quick, the guy screamed in pain, interrupting her response.

  Michael answered, “Now it is.”

  Jacqueline swallowed, “So, uh, let’s take their weapons and let them go.” Michael dropped the guy, who collapsed to the ground. Reaching down he picked up the pistol and casually checked for rounds.

  “Pity, only one shot left,” he commented, then put the weapon inside his coat.

  “Go get medical help,” Jacqueline told the two of them looking from one to the other, “and don’t make this park your home, or next time I smell you both, I won’t be so stupid as to confront you. I’ll just sneak up and kill you myself.”

  The guy helped the crazy girl up, and the two staggered down the path, back towards the entrance which Michael and Jacqueline had used to enter the park.

  Michael ignored Jacqueline’s stare and turned towards a large building on the other side of the park and pointed, “My place.”

  Chicago City-State - (United States Post Apocalypse)

  Brick Jessims was a big guy. He wasn’t stupid and yet not entirely smart. He went about his business, knowing that what he carried was gold in his pockets. It was getting close to dark, and he was annoyed. One of his best customers, Paul Mullins, had sent him a message that he didn’t want any more product.

  Well, that wasn’t good enough. One doesn’t just quit using his product. Not without a withdrawal period. Almost everybody that ever had more than a few hits of the blood could never stop. It was a bad situation if they lost their income and couldn’t afford the product anymore.

  He had watched a withdrawal once, and it cured him of ever getting addicted to the product.

  He needed to talk to Paul in person, probably would sell him three times the quantity he normally would because of his convulsions from the withdrawals and then he would hit Paul with a ten percent restocking and continued distribution fee.

  Send a letter telling Brick to stop coming around? Fat-ass chance of that happening.

  It wasn’t until he was eating over at Jerry’s bar and someone mentioned Paul getting engaged did Brick understand why Paul would try to quit. Damned females could create all sorts of problems for a man. Stop one from enjoying a night out with the guys, drinking when they wanted to, and the occasional hit of the elixir of life.

  Usually, they weren’t sure why the elixir was bad. But, with it looking like blood, women really didn’t like it. Hell, he had been with a girlfriend who told him he needed to find a new business because she didn’t like the way the product smelled.

  “No,” he told her, “I just need to find some new pussy,” and tossed her out of his apartment with a threat that if she ever spoke about him, he would knife her in the night.

  Fortunately for him, the next guy she hooked up with killed her during an argument. His hands, and conscience, were clean.

  The trees were thick on this side of Mullin’s land. Brick knew the back way in, it wasn’t like Paul ever wanted anyone to see Brick arriving and doing the deal. He sent a message ahead that he wanted to speak with him, just to make sure he understood the situation correctly. That he would leave him alone if that is what he wanted.

  He smiled, they might not want to be seen with him, but they always wanted to meet with him. He received a message that Paul would be home. Brick didn’t pay attention to the handwriting that looked more feminine than Paul’s.

  He was about two hundred yards from the house when a low growl caused him to stop in his tracks and look around, his heart pumping faster.

  Two glowing yellow eyes were staring at him from the darkness under the trees.

  —

  Paul was rolling around in his bed. He was sweating, profusely, and hadn’t been out of his room for three days.

  Kerri had promised she would help him through this, and after she had cleaned up the second time he threw up without making it to the bathroom, he had to admit she was a woman of her word.

  He would have ditched his own ass if he could have.

  Early that morning, Kerri had come into the room with a letter and asked him who Brick was? Paul explained the man was his blood provider. The one who made sure he had the product he needed and the one, he promised her, he had told he was done with the blood.

  She held his hand, dabbed the sweat off of his forehead and bent down, kissing him and then made sure he was comfortable.

  Had he seen her eyes flash yellow? In this fevered state, he couldn’t be sure if he had even talked with her.

  Later that evening, he heard the chilling howl of a wolf, not that far from the house.

  In his dreams, he imagined Brick had been killed by the wolf who had howled and his fever broke.

  In the morning, Kerri brought him breakfast in bed, and her smile warmed his heart.

  New York City-State

  The police lights continued to strobe into the alley. The three police officers and one coroner worked the scene, but it was easy to figure out what happened. Four toughs had met up with someone very strong and had a fight.

  Four toughs had lost.

  The problem, at least from Ralph Kornicki’s point of view, was these guys worked with the Enforcers. He walked over to his police vehicle and reached inside to grab the radio handset. “Control.”

  A male voice came back immediately, “This is control,”

  “This is Kornicki, I’m over at the call about a dead guy in the alley. Seems we don’t have one dead guy, we got four. All with broken necks.”

  “Understood, do you need backup?”

  “No,” he replied looking back towards the alley, “this fight happened sometime earlier. However, I need you to patch me through to Enforcer Control.”

  “Why the hell do you want to talk with them, Kornicki? You itching to have a bad night?” the guy on the other end of the line asked.

  Ralph clicked his handset, “No, but these four guys worked for them.”

  —

  Michael kicked, and the door slammed open, dust falling from the inside and one chunk of the ceiling in the living room dropped to crash to the floor.

  Jacqueline peeked into the building, “If your house is the big one down the street,” she asked, “Why are we entering this one?”

  “Because,” Michael answered, working on his patience, “vampires always have multiple exits from their resting places.”

  Jacqueline walked into the old, dilapidated home behind Michael and looked around. The dim light from the city street lamp barely helped see in the house. “I feel like something is going to jump out and bite me,” she admitted.

  Michael continued walking around to the back of the house, causing Jacqueline to, once again, catch up. “Not much for sightseeing, are you?”

  “Forgive me,” Michael told her as he opened a closet that was next to the kitchen. He started tapping in the upper right-hand corner until the sound changed. Then, making a fist, he punched through the wood. Grabbing some pieces, he tossed them out behind him.

  She noticed a faint light coming from inside the closet, so she stepped up and looked around the door. Her jaw dropped, “Your hand is glowing. How is your hand glowing?” She looked from his hand to his face and back again.

  “Etheric energy, pulled into our dimension, released as light,” He replied as he reached into the hole and grabbed something metal that needed oil, badly. Next, he started pulling, his face actually showing some straining with the effort. The four-inch iron ring and chain came out about a foot before she heard multiple clicks.

  “That was probably scientifically correct, and I didn’t understand a bit of it,” she grumped. “Why can you do these things and I’ve never heard of any Wechselbalg’s able to do them?”

  Michael grunted, “I practice, something you should consider doing more of,” He replied, “and because the nanocytes in vampires come from o
ne group of Kurtherians. The ones that work in Wechselbalg to change you to a wolf, or the Pricolici form, are from a different Kurtherian group.”

  Her voice got softer, “Like my father changed.”

  There was a loud chunk and Michael pushed back on the wall, it slid out of the way. He turned to Jacqueline, “Your father never had the ability to change to that form in the past, that I am aware of. His love, and concern, for you allowed him to attain the most dangerous form. Don’t ever doubt, Jacqueline.” He turned and reached inside, flicking a switch, tiny red lights lit up the hall. He stood, looking at the lights for a moment, “I’m surprised. I wasn’t sure the batteries could hold this long. The LED lights don’t suck much wattage, but let’s be going,” he turned to her, “Unless rats crawling over your feet in the dark don’t bother you?” He smirked.

  Jacqueline wiped a tear and pushed on Michael’s back. “Let’s go, DM.”

  Michael gave her room to get inside, and then shut the door to the closet, then the secret door to his exit. He closed and locked the door.

  “What’s going to stop the next person from pulling it out?” Jacqueline asked.

  Michael stepped around her in the tiny hallway and answered.

  “Fifteen hundred pounds.”

  Her eyes opened, and she asked him as she scooted forward, “Pulleys?”

  “None, otherwise what is the point of making one lift fifteen hundred pounds?” He asked.

  Then, as they walked, the quiet surrounded Jacqueline, and she looked ahead, determined that her father wouldn’t be ashamed of her.

  She wouldn’t squeal should anything jump at her. She was a Werewolf.

  By the time Michael took her into the lower sewer system, back over to another entrance and through two more trapped doors, Gerry would have been very proud of his daughter.

  She hadn’t squealed once.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Denver, Colorado (United States Post-Apoc)

  It was close to three o’clock in the morning when the black, silent, small aircraft descended from space and landed a couple of miles out of town.

  This time, only one person, a male, exited the vehicle.

  He reached back into the Pod and pulled out a bag and slung it over his shoulder. The clothes he was wearing were a cross between military fatigues and old Japanese Samurai fashion.

  When he finished, he sent a short message to the E.I. he was using for this operation, and the Pod lifted silently back into the night sky. It would go up and stay in orbit over his location.

  The Asian man confirmed all of his weapons were where they needed to be, including his own Jean Dukes’ special. He set off towards the town in a ground eating jog. On his arm was a faded patch.

  It had a white fanged skull on a red background.

  Akio was a Queen’s Bitch, and he had a task given him over a hundred and fifty years before. He was to wait. Wait until her love came back and then find him, and provide him with whatever support he required until such a time that she came back.

  Because, if there was one thing Akio was comfortable believing on faith? It was that Bethany Anne would be back.

  New York City-State

  Jacqueline was impatient as Michael made the two of them wait for fifteen or so minutes before entering his home, his lair. He told her the air needed to be recycled.

  “Oh my God…” Jacqueline looked around the room that the final door opened into and was shocked. “How big is this place?”

  “Three stories deep, this room is over twelve-hundred square feet. There are four bedrooms besides mine, you may choose any of them on the second floor. There is a kitchen, restrooms, showers and we have our own power if necessary. Although I’m plugged into four different power trunks, so one or more of them should work.” He reached over and hit a light switch, and the lights started warming up. His lips pressed together as he looked at the lights, his annoyance showing. “Two are burned out.”

  The room, approximately thirty feet by forty feet had three separate areas that Jacqueline could see. There was one area that was designed for watching television, one for reading, with most of one of the forty foot walls lined with bookshelves and books. Plus, one for… “What’s that area?” She asked as she pointed. The bamboo flooring was different than the stained concrete throughout the rest of the room.

  “Stretching and practice,” he replied, and he dropped the bags on the floor near the chair he had last used for reading a very, very long time ago.

  “Of course it is,” she mumbled. Then, she bowed her head and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she looked over and called to him, “May I use it?”

  Michael turned to view her, one eyebrow raised. “First, let me show you around. This home was as close to hermetically sealed as I could make it, with one small hole the size of a straw to allow exit.”

  “How does one get out through a straw sized hole?” she asked him, catching up.

  “I plan on showing you, little one,” he admitted, “I will figure out my problem, of that you can be assured. And when I do, a demonstration will answer your question.”

  He showed her the bedrooms, and she decided she liked the deep green room. Michael had built this personal home planning that at some point, he might have a family, or friends, or at least compatriots that he would like to offer protection.

  It had never happened.

  Instead, over the years, the decades and the centuries, he had gotten tired. That was before he was almost destroyed by a nuclear bomb.

  That was before the woman named Bethany Anne changed his future.

  The two of them were walking up the stairs to the first level, where he had the kitchen and dining areas when Jacqueline asked about a set of double doors they had passed.

  Michael stopped, turned and smiled. He stepped back to the double doors and spoke, “Door?”

  It took a few seconds and Michael had just about decided to call out a second time when an electronic voice responded, “Door is listening.”

  “Open arms locker. Permission granted by Michael Nacht.”

  “Code word?” The voice requested.

  “ArchAngel,” he replied.

  A large CLUNK sounded, and Michael pushed the double doors, which opened into the room. Several lights turned on.

  “Dammit,” Michael was annoyed, another three lights weren’t working.

  “Holy shit,” Jacqueline whispered.

  Denver, Colorado (United States Post-Apoc)

  Akio walked into the town, and more than a few people there looked at him funny. Apparently, he mused, not too many with Japanese blood running around here.

  Once she and Akio had figured out that Michael was back, they needed to figure out where he had gone. They used all sorts of advanced methods to try and track him, but it was the simplest that finally worked.

  Where had a lot of people died by abnormally violent means? Moving out from the base, he could track a disturbance to nine days before. Now, he just needed to find out which direction he was headed and Akio would also head in that direction.

  As he walked through town, he received more glances. Some people were fearful, some were worried, and a few were people who seemed like they wanted to test him. However, Akio assumed, testing a stranger wasn’t considered a good idea at the moment.

  He followed the general movement of people and found most of them heading towards a twenty story building which had walls surrounding it.

  There was a gate, but it was open and unguarded. Akio strode through and moved off to the side. He could still smell death in the air as he watched the people coming and going. There was a group of people arguing just outside the building entrance, so he headed that direction.

  They were talking politics. After a few moments, he understood a massive reduction in the local political infrastructure had taken place.

  He walked off from that group and located a corner he could lean against the wall in peace. He opened a communication channel. “Eve.”


  “Here, Akio.”

  “Michael’s definitely been here,” he subvocalized.

  “What are the parameters for my next search?”

  Akio shook his head and looked around the area at the people, “Unknown.”

  Eve replied like she always did when she calculated Akio wasn’t delivering the information he could. “Why unknown? Can you not derive some characteristics?”