by Aiden James
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© 2016 Aiden James & Patricck Burdine
www.aidenjamesfiction.com
www.patrickburdine.com
Cover Art by Eugene Teplitsky
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ISBN 978-1-62007-693-4 (ebook)
ISBN 978-1-62007-702-3 (paperback)
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About the Author: Aiden James
About the Author: Patrick Burdine
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Dedicated to those who glory in the dream of life everlasting… on earth.
Rosemary and Becky; two of the strongest examples of love, strength, and ferocity anyone could ask for.
’ll never forget the way the moon looked through my window seat on Racco de Saint Germaine’s private jet as we crossed into China’s airspace from India. A full moon illuminated the thick cloudbank below and obscured the vast depth of the night sky behind it. The beauty of it distracted me from the ever-growing sadness of moving farther away from my American homeland. At least it did until the voice of my newest companion drew my attention from the view.
“I wonder what it’s like to fly through the air at this altitude without manmade wings.”
Tyreen Davenport grinned mischievously as she said this, ivory fangs peering through her voluptuous lips. She was once my roommate at UT, and had been a vampire for only a week. Fortunately, Franz and Armando reached her in time to prevent her transformation into a ‘Chupacabra’ vamp after one of Ralu’s warriors attacked her in the now infamous Knoxville tragedy, where twenty-three UT students and six police officers died.
Unlike the ‘Nosferatu Curse’ that afflicts so many of Ralu’s victims, Tyreen can look forward to an eternity as one of the pretty vampires. Her gorgeous green eyes are now luminescent, and her flawless ebony skin will always be perfect. Never shall she endure the onset of aging or, for that matter, the ill effects of gravity. Her full bosom and the ‘bodacious butt’ the boys back in college drooled over will remain that way for centuries to come. And when my long dark brown hair begins to go gray, her flowing curls will remain jet-black—unless she becomes addicted to frequent hair color experiments like her new peers.
“It would probably be cold as hell and take days to thaw me out,” she said.
I chuckled to let her know I understood her observation wasn’t in reference to me and my human limitations, and gave her half a glare for the brag. Rather it referred to our older and more advanced vampire companions, who can soar through the air at incredible heights when necessary. “As for what it would be like for you, why don’t you ask Garvan?”
“Hmmm… I would say the best way to describe it is exhilarating,” a young man’s voice said from behind me.
Tyreen looked beyond me, smiling coyly as I turned to face Garvan de Sang.
Garvan, a four hundred year-old vampire from France, was dressed like the typical European playboy in a white Armani suit and apricot silk shirt opened at the neck. His fiery emerald eyes peered through shoulder-length blonde hair that fell forward as he served himself a champagne glass filled with fresh blood—his preferred ‘Type O’ kept ready at room temperature. “Unless you forget about the speed… forgetting about that would be bad. Very bad.”
“How so?” I wanted him to elaborate. I could tell Tyreen was even more curious than I.
“Depending on how fast one travels, it’s possible to slip past the earth’s gravitational pull,” he said, his expression playful and his normally rich aristocratic accent muted. “And then ‘poof’, you are no longer part of this world ever again.”
“That would suck for anyone,” I said, as Tyreen’s hopeful smile faded.
Meanwhile, Garvan’s own smile widened, revealing his gleaming fangs. “Yes, that’s a correct assessment.” He moved over to an empty seat next to Tyreen. “But, it’s far worse for a vampire. Imagine for a moment that you were like Tyreen or me, and can no longer easily die.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Can you picture how much fun this could become if one of us were shot out into the vast expanse of outer space?”
“Are you suggesting we wouldn’t just turn into a block of ice out there, destined to orbit the earth until kingdom come?” Tyreen’s sarcastic wit overrode the slight fear I sensed hovering just below the surface.
“Well, I suppose whatever is organic within our vampire bodies would freeze,” interjected Armando from behind us. The accent was almost genteel Spanish, as I suppose the rich plantation owners who occupied Haiti and Cuba after arriving from Portugal and Spain sounded several hundred years ago. “But no vampire likes to spin around anything—definitely not the earth—ever!”
I twisted in my seat to face Armando. Like Garvan, he was also dressed like a young jet setter, though with his darker skin and slicked back ponytail he could also pass as the Central Casting version of a Miami drug prince. He was wearing a black jacket and slacks with a burgundy silk shirt. The dark colors might look brooding on another, but the near constant glimmer of amusement in his eye and on the corners of his lips prevented that. My Spanish protector is among my favorite of immortals with his quick wit and unexpectedly light heart. The combination of traits is something quite unexpected to find in an apex predator. If the stereotypical widow’s peak atop his forehead didn’t betray his status as a blood drinker, his unearthly deep blue eyes and prominent fangs would remove all doubt in an instant.
“You two sound ridiculous!”
From the front of the plane, Raquel Meurtrier eyed us with playful contempt. I realized then that an impromptu ‘vampire meeting’ with Gustav must have officially ended. Raquel was, by far, the most diminutive and dainty of my vampire protectors―you might even go so far as to call her petite. Her long hair was crimson and her eyes a deep shade of violet. She was dressed almost casually in simple black tights and a long purple cardigan sweater. The slight smirk on her face told me that she enjoyed my latest admiring nod. Unlike the other female vampires in my close circle of companions, Raquel didn’t gravitate to the latest designer fashions. She preferred a wardrobe featuring elegance crossed with a loose thrown-together feel, and was the closest thing to Lady Gaga we’ll likely ever see in our exclusive society.
In addition to superior sense, the ability to fly, and inhuman strength, the vampires also gained some kind of superb fashion sense. It just didn’t seem fair. Thinking about it, though, it did make sense, as predators to lure their prey, they needed to make themselves more desirable. Part of that is visible, like male birds with their assortment of colorful feathers. I started to wonder if their scents were another part of it, like pheromones. I made a note to myself to investigate this in greater depth later, if given the opportunity.
“You sound more like a pair of real dumbasses, in my opinion,” she said as she sauntered toward us, a more roguish grin tugging at the corners of her thin lips.
“Perhaps ‘dumbasses’ who never considered the combustion of their vampire bodies once this so called orbit brought them face to face with the sun,” added Chanson. She somehow joined our little group without me seeing her entrance into our area. Only her distinctive lilac scent alerted me to her presence. “And it would be a hell of a lot hotter and crueler without the ultraviolet
protection from the earth’s atmosphere.”
Reflecting her no-nonsense attitude, she was dressed in a dark blue Armani suit similar to the blazer and skirt laid out for me the previous afternoon and she carried a laptop with her. Chanson sat next to me, grimacing slightly. The look on her face said the meeting she and my other guardians had attended―all save Tyreen that is―had involved some sort of battle… a war of wills, perhaps? This sort of thing usually made me quite uneasy. But, at the moment, the olfactory barrage from their collective presence was of worse concern. Even more than the chilling presence Chanson and Raquel brought with them, since neither one had fed that evening.
Aside from Chanson’s lilac scent, there’s cinnamon for Garvan, ginger for Armando, roses for Raquel, and honeysuckle for Tyreen. The collective odors often remind me of a flower shop combined with some kind of weird spice boutique.
Not an easy combo for a new mom-to-be. Definitely not, considering the accelerated morning sickness I already endured. Hell, it was afternoon and evening sickness, too. The ‘all day’ bullshit made me worry this unpleasantness might last throughout my entire pregnancy.
I had nothing to compare this to. Not only was this my first pregnancy, but I couldn’t even ask my mother, or any other mother for that matter, since mine hadn’t been a normal human conception process. Less than twenty-four hours earlier, Peter Worley and I had agreed to have sex while Chanson drained my blood until I lost consciousness. Through a curiosity of my biology, this was the only way I could conceive, and it was as awkward and uncomfortable as it sounded. The only fertilized ovum I’ll likely ever produce had begun its transformation into my angel, Alaia.
“You look pale, Txema,” said Armando. “I believe a bottle of Perrier will restore your color, no?”
Before I could respond, he had already disappeared. I’d mentioned before how much I truly hated it when they did that sort of thing—here one instant and zip away the next.
“Really, a glass of wine would be a better choice!” I called after him, or at least to where I thought he disappeared.
“Uh-uh-uh.” Raquel stood behind Chanson, trying to steal a peek at what our vampire princess had just typed into her MacBook Air. “No alcohol fun for you, sweetie, until you’ve hatched your young!”
Well, at least this cynical wit I could relate to.
“Perhaps you’re right,” I said. “I guess I’ll settle for a diet Coke instead.”
Really, if I’m forgoing alcohol, then it doesn’t matter what they serve me, unless it’s blood. Armando soon returned, but with a glass of lightly sweetened iced tea instead.
“I believe we have a lot to talk about before the plane lands in the next half hour.” He chuckled sourly while studying my face. “There’s much to be aware of in light of Gustav’s most recent update.”
He reclaimed his seat after handing me my drink, ignoring a sharp glance from Chanson. It wasn’t the first time I noticed how he sometimes irritated her.
“Let me handle this,” she said coolly, before shifting her attention to me. Her emerald eyes seemed more luminescent than usual. Like Garvan, her long dark brown hair hung forward, although she brushed it away from her face so she could see me clearly. They all studied me, and I felt the blood rush to my face. I hated being the center of attention. “Since we all heard the report from Xuanxang, it’s only fair Txema learns the truth about what is happening in China.”
Chanson’s voice was almost musical, except when upset or worried. When that happened, her words come off fairly harsh. I doubted she’d remain in high regard among her vampire peers if this were perceived as a normal weakness. No doubt, some of her vulnerability was due to her overt fondness for me, her distant cousin.
Although we are distant cousins, people often mistake us for sisters. She was tall and, although she had an athletic build, her curves left no doubt whatsoever she was a woman. With dark hair and deep hazel eyes, she turned plenty of heads―both male and female.
“Are we still going to the Himalayas and the Palace of Xu Zheng you told me about earlier tonight?” I hoped I didn’t sound overly concerned one way or another.
“Yes, that’s our destination. Or rather, it would be more accurate to say, at least it is our original landing point,” said Chanson, her tone brighter. It was as if she stole a peek at my inner thoughts, and it pleased her by what she found.
Before undergoing the sacred ‘sex and blood’ ceremony—the Relance du sang is the official name for the ritual—my thoughts were completely open to any vampire. I believe many of my readers have experienced this unpleasant ‘thought nakedness’ with a vampire by now. Since I was brought back from the brink of death, I’d found that I inherited a lighter version of their telepathic abilities. Yes, it could be somewhat disconcerting, and even annoying. But I’d only been affected when around human beings like myself, which at the moment meant only the pilots and the flight staff.
Meanwhile, my thoughts had become a cloudy mess for my vampire companions to muddle through. Instead of the verbatim translations from my head they once freely enjoyed, they had to rely more on their intuitions and intelligence to define the bits and pieces they gathered from me. It provided my only shot at some sort of privacy, since Gustav had mandated I not be left alone or unprotected at any time. I admit that I enjoyed the privacy, however limited it might have been.
“Our original welcome to stay there indefinitely has now been limited to just a few months, and even that was only reluctantly agreed upon. Ralu’s presence in the lower plateaus of the Himalayas has greatly alarmed the Chinese emperor and those still loyal to him.”
“Keep in mind that Huangtian Dadi’s nation is much smaller than ours, where his one-hundred and twenty-four eternals are less than a third of our European group,” added Raquel, looking toward Chanson for permission to continue, who motioned for her to go on. “Xuanxang advised that the other forty-three vampires residing in the Chinese domain are either undecided in their loyalties, or have already given their support to Ralu’s cause.”
I didn’t like the way this sounded, so bleak and a touch ominous. It was as if my fate, and more importantly, the fate of my unborn child were of tenuous concern in the bigger vampire picture. My world is no longer the human global community to which all of you belong. I’d already witnessed first-hand on several occasions how a ripple of unpopularity in the realm of the undead can have drastic consequences for mortals such as myself. I worried about the personal danger of traveling into a land where some of my hosts might hold the same contempt for me that Ralu did—regardless of any uniqueness from my heritage and bloodline.
At present, I assumed the world’s vampire population contained roughly eight thousand souls—the vast majority condemned to serve Ralu in his personal and ruthless army numbering at least six thousand. From what I had been able to gather, both spoken and unspoken, the European vampire nation had shrunk to a touch over three hundred and seventy dark souls the night before, after Ralu’s attack upon ‘‘le Chateau de Douleur,’ Racco’s once-glorious castle in the French Pyrenees near Perpignan. Apparently, most vampire groups were extremely shy and avoided contact with human societies at all costs… save those unwary, and thus unfortunate, stragglers with whom they cross paths. The greatest strength of my own allies is their ability to mingle with, and manipulate, humans with such skill. I’m sure the mind-reading helps out a bit at the negotiating table.
“So, I guess what I went through last night turned out to be for nothing. Ralu is still just as aggressive as he was before the ceremony—he still intends to subdue the world. Maybe we should continue on until we find a place that’s safer,” I said, pausing to look into everyone’s faces. Frozen expressions looked back at me, some mirthful while others serious… but all intense. “Somewhere in America would probably be better.”
“Which America are you referring to?” Garvan sounded irritated and a tad worried, as if I had any real say in where we’d end up. “It’s true that Ralu has stepped up his
attacks, and either continent will soon be overrun by his mercenaries. Unless you long for an existence languishing at the very tip of either the north or south poles, you should patiently await Gustav’s direction. He has a plan to deal with this, Txema, and some of it was laid out for us this evening.”
“Then, why not speak clearly, instead of—”
The coolness of Chanson’s index finger pressed upon my upper lip. Surprised, I shut up.
“I think it’s best if we get settled in our new accommodations first, and then we can continue this discussion in a more meaningful way.” She cast another sharp glance, this time at Garvan. Armando snickered while looking on. For the moment, she ignored him, focused instead on the rest of her message to me. “The plan will make much more sense from within the environment where it will be carried out.”
I nodded, both out of respect for my cousin—my strongest vampire ally—as well as the simple truth behind her words. She was right; there wasn’t a damned thing that could be done about our destination at this point. We would reach the Palace of Xu Zheng before long. Aside from having to refuel the jet to get us across either the Pacific or Atlantic, we’d need to secure a place free from vampire attacks—not to mention the far-reaching telepathy of Ralu Izcacus.
“I’m hungry,” said Tyreen, after an awkward silence followed Chanson’s admonishment to me. “My stomach’s churning again!”
“You sound like a baby in need of milk and a good slap on the back, no?” asked Armando, drawing chuckles from everyone but Chanson, me, and Tyreen.
“How easy it was to forget what it’s like to be a new vampire!” Chanson glared at the rest of them, her gaze lingering longest on Armando, since his chuckle sounded the most amused. “We could place her under your personal care… perhaps permanently. How does that sound?”
That got him. A sullen scowl and a pleading look replaced his haughty smile. I worried Tyreen’s feelings might be hurt by his reaction. But her expression told me that she missed it, perhaps focused on Raquel’s enraptured look instead. No doubt, our diminutive imp looked forward to an opportunity to school the newbie on how to procure lasting nourishment.