by Drew D'Amato
“Oh my God, was he there when it got attacked?”
“No, he was actually there during the day of the night of the attack.”
“So he did get to see the Vatican, that’s good. You did hear what happened right?”
What a question.
“Of course.”
“So why, Vlad?” Anger returned in her voice.
“Why, what?”
“Why did you not bring me, I told you I would go. I could have gotten it off of school. But the truth is you didn’t want to bring me. Why?”
“You’re right, I did not want to bring you.”
Jasmine was shocked to her such a blunt answer from him.
“Are you meeting other girls? Do you not like me now that you have your fun with me?”
“Furthest from the truth. I love you. It’s just…” Vlad paused to think of something. “My family wants me to marry someone of noble blood, even though neither of us have any type of country to run. They wanted me to marry this girl ten years ago. I didn’t want to. I used the crisis Malachi was gong through to escape with him. My family likes to think I am just sowing my wild oats, and that I will come back and marry someone else from what they deem a ‘respectable’ family.”
“Vlad don’t bullshit me, I saw Coming to America.”
“No, it’s the truth. It’s hard enough dealing with Jericho’s death, I didn’t want any more drama with my family meeting you. I thought things overall would be easier if I came here solo. I didn’t want any of their meddling, or trying to sabotage us, and they will.”
“Why do they care so much?”
“Old money, it’s the way old money thinks, but I am not like that. I will introduce you to my family, but when I do, it will be as my wife.”
Vlad could hear through the phone a thousand miles away Jasmine’s heart stop. She understood political marriages, and powerful men marrying trophy wives. She experienced it firsthand with Kevin. She didn’t believe everything Vlad said, she still felt he was hiding something, but she knew how he felt about her was true, and that was all that mattered. She would talk about it more when he got back, but she didn’t want to fight with her love half a world away.
“So where are you now, is Pacami with you in Ireland?”
“Actually we are both in London now.”
“London, why are you in London?”
“Well after what happened in the Vatican yesterday Pacami didn’t really know what to do with himself. He got to go to the Vatican, but he had planned to see more of it. However, with what happened they are obviously not allowing any visitors. He told me he would also like to see London, and since the services are not scheduled until the middle of the week I decided to come out here with him and help him get settled. He doesn’t have much money for himself. I’m going back to my family in Ireland tomorrow.”
“So the services are not for a few days. When am I going to see you again?”
“I’m not sure, but whenever it is, it will not be soon enough.”
7
Vlad decided 3 a.m. was a good time to fake his death. The streets were mostly deserted at this point, but this wasn’t his biggest concern. He had to be smart with his ruse in regards to Jasmine. After all was done with Radu he would have to move away from LA, maybe California all together. He couldn’t risk ever bumping into her again.
But that was later on, now he had to fake this death and get back to Malachi soon. Once the car was noticed, news will spread and word would get out that Raoul Wellington, who rented the car, and Father Anthony Pacami are presumed dead and people will be looking for the bodies. News traveled fast in this modern world, and once Jasmine learned he could predict where she would go next—Malachi.
He couldn’t risk what impact it would have on Jasmine, finding Vlad who she thought was dead, in a hospital room sinking his teeth into Malachi’s neck. He had to fake his death and fly to LA all while Jasmine got a good night’s sleep. It was lucky for him that the time zones made something like that possible. He figured 3 in the morning here meant 7 at night in LA. From the time the car crashed to when the car is taken out and the identification is traced it would be a few hours. In fact in the darkness of night, they might not have a proper identification until the morning here in London. 6 a.m. here would be 10 p.m. in LA, and that’s if the news even got to LA by then. It might still take an hour or so. There was a good chance Jasmine would be asleep by then.
His non-stop flight to LA left around 4 a.m. English time, and would land a little later after 7 in the morning in LA. Jasmine should still be asleep for a few more hours. If he hustled to Sinai he could pull it off before Jasmine ever awoke and learned of the news. She would still rush to the hospital but Malachi would be gone. She will feel confused, betrayed, and the hospital staff would not have any answers. Jasmine would go through a miserable period for sometime and feel lost, but it was the best he could do for her.
He drove the truck right to edge of the bridge, and checked to make sure he was alone. He was but then his phone rang. He checked the number—212 area code—it was the same number Radu called him from before. He had spent the day thinking of how to fake his death and say goodbye to Jasmine, but no idea of what to say to Radu. Still he had to answer it.
“Yes.”
“Did you hear about our friends at the Vatican?” Radu asked.
“I heard about what happened at the Vatican. They were friends of ours?”
“They were Crusaders. Don’t play dumb, the silver bullets found were all over the news. My men had nothing to do with it, how about yours?”
“Radu that was an attack, what could me—as a human, don’t forget—could have done? 21 men are dead, with guns loaded with silver bullets. It would have been a challenge as a vampire, nevermind as a human. Besides, what interest would I have with the Crusaders? The blood is destroyed and I am no longer a vampire.”
“Maybe you wanted to enlist them in your fight against me.”
“I think they would probably kill me on principle and not ask for my help. I have no fight against you, you won. I conceded to your deal. I just want to be human and have my love; you can do what you want with the world. I don’t care anymore. And if I was there, you’re right; it would be to ask for their help. Not to kill the only other people in the world that know of you. Think about it, there is no reason for me to be there, especially not to kill them all.”
Radu didn’t trust Vlad, but he couldn’t argue that point. How could Vlad as a human take out 21 men like that? And why would Vlad go there just to kill Crusaders. Radu believed the blood had been destroyed. He couldn’t see the logic of Vlad being there killing Crusaders, but he still didn’t trust his brother.
“So how come you seem so nervous when you speak?” Radu asked.
“Because I just ask to be left alone with my love, and I am afraid you will not believe me and kill me or her because of this incident that I had no involvement in. I am nervous, because I am at your mercy brother.”
Radu loved after all these years finally hearing this from his brother.
“Then what could it have been? What the hell did happen there?”
“I don’t know Radu, maybe they turned on themselves. Maybe there was a rift within the group. I have no answers. I am in LA waiting for your next move.”
“Good things comes to those who wait, and I have waited long enough. Don’t worry, it will happen soon. The dominoes are already set. Now they just have to fall.”
Radu hung up. What the fuck did he have planned? It didn’t matter, Vlad had to move quickly. His time was running short. Radu would be doing something soon enough. Vlad had to do something sooner.
He checked the street, deserted. He checked the glovebox—Pacami’s wallet was in it along with his Raoul Wellington ID. He had his other aliases in his back pocket to use to get home. Everything was set. It was time to move.
He threw the car into drive and peeled down the street. The truck picked up speed. Vlad opened the driver’s d
oor. He had to do everything quick to keep the speed of the truck. He turned the car hard to the left and popped out of the truck gripping the roof of it. The car started to slow down, but the distance between the railing was withing a few yards. The truck hit the barrier and to Vlad’s surprise, it flipped.
Vlad now had the truck on top of him as he fell with the force of the truck moving toward the water below. Vlad feared the approaching water like it was the mouth of a volcano. He let go of the roof and flew underneath the truck. He missed the water and his death by less then a few seconds. He rose up into the air like an eagle, got his bearings and made his way toward Heathrow. As he flew to the airport he was focused again completely on the war.
He couldn’t wait to see the look in his brother’s eyes when he took the life out of them.
TEN
1
Touchdown at 7:15, in a taxi by 7:23, at Cedars by 8:24. The LA traffic killed him. If his plan was spoiled it would be because of the traffic. He hadn’t heard from Jasmine yet, so he had to believe she still didn’t hear the news. But that logic didn’t make sense to him as he drove in the taxi. If Jasmine had heard he was dead, why would she call him? She still might, maybe just out of disbelief. True, but her not calling didn’t mean she did not know.
The nervousness boiled back in his stomach. That possible moment of them crossing paths and what he would see in her eyes. He would have to make her one then. There was no other choice, there was too much at risk. Before all else he had to kill Radu—whatever the cost.
On the flight back, as he tried to pass as a regular passenger—making sure he had the middle seat to avoid a window that might cast a reflection—Vlad realized he had made the right choice in becoming a vampire again. The power was too much. He had taken it for granted over the years. Then he relearned what it was to be human.
He had no chance against Radu as a human. Becoming a vampire was the only option. And even now with just himself and Malachi they had no shot if they lost the element of surprise. Leaving Jasmine alive with the knowledge of vampires was too risky for that. He couldn’t kill her, so that left the only option of making her one if she discovered him. His conscience allowed him live with making her one, if fate had allowed no other choice. He even allowed himself to actually hope for that scenario. He thought he had no more hope left in him of ever being back with her, but hope never dies. It just needs to breathe.
When he got to the hospital another curveball was thrown his way. He had to check in. It was 8:30 in the morning. The day was overcast, no sun shined through the windows, but still he did not have access to his powers. He was a human. He couldn’t just sneak his way inside, he was going to have to check in. He took out his wallet and skimmed through his various ID’s until he found the one that made him smile.
2
As he made his way to Malachi’s room he did two things. He looked for a way to get back out unnoticed, and he looked for Jasmine. He found neither.
When he got to the room a doctor waited for him. It was not the same doctor he had seen days ago, this one was Asian, Dr. Hmong, which Vlad thought was a good thing. Dr. Patel would know him as Raoul Wellington, not the name he used today. Fortunately he had met two different doctors, of two different racial backgrounds, who each met a different white man with different names visiting the patient George Patterson. Vlad knew people of other races tended to not easily see the different features of those from a different race. Whites think all Asians look the same, blacks think all whites look the same, and so on, and so on. Vlad was confident that these two with all their medical background would not figure out that he was the same man—the same creature.
“I wanted to tell your there was a change in the condition of your cousin,” Dr. Hmong said, a short man with thin glasses and a chubby face. Vlad could tell from his wider lips he was Southeastern Asian, probably Vietnamese. Vlad could tell the differences in people of different ethnicities. He had seen all types of people over the years.
“A change for the better?” Vlad asked.
“For the worse I’m afraid. After a few days he developed acute kidney injury, producing less than half a millileter of urine per kilogram of his body in 12 hours and as of yesterday it developed into kidney failure. He produced only one-tenth millileter of urine per kilogram in the past 24 hours. His urine, when it does come out, is very brownish. It is not at all a terminal prognosis yet, but the mortality rate for kidney failure is as high as 20%. We are treating him with fluids intravenously and we are not in a position yet to assume the worst, but you should know what is happening. He is not conscious now.”
“Thank you doctor, but I am from out of town, and I would like to at least see him, should I not get a chance again. I won’t disturb him.”
Dr. Hmong thought about it. “Okay, but let him rest, he needs it.” Hmong gave him his best comforting smile. This was not the worst he ever had to tell anyone. He didn’t want to remember his top five worst conversations he has had with the loved ones of patients, but he would have to remember this conversation when he spoke to the police less than an hour later.
Vlad closed the door to the room and paused to hear Hmong’s footsteps walk far enough away from the room to not hear the click as Vlad locked to door. He walked over to his unconscious friend who had tubes and wires running into him. There was the steady rhythm of the heartbeat monitor. It was slow, but it was still there. Vlad looked over at the tubes to see if any of them were drawing any blood, he didn’t want any of the vampire blood being trapped in one of these tubes. There was just fluid being inserted into him.
He went over to the window and closed the shades. Once the natural light was blocked out he could feel his vampire power rush inside him. He bent down and placed his lips on Malachi’s neck, and felt his fangs grow until they punctured his jugular. Vlad drank some of Malachi’s blood first, which was a neccesary thing to do. To successfully make one an undead there must be an exchange of blood. To just open him up and fill him with vampire blood would put too much blood in the body. First a good portion, maybe about two pints, had to be sucked out leaving room to replace it with the vampire blood. Judas taught him this trick.
Then the cursed blood is injected into the body through the holes in the fangs. The blood passes through the veins into the heart. From there the curse then takes over the heart and branches out to the other arteries, changing the heart, making it pump the cursed blood and no longer the human blood. The true change would not take affect until after the human was dead.
Vlad brought in enough blood and released his bite. Malachi’s head fell back on the pillow. Malachi was still unconscious. He was dying. If Vlad had taken a few more days it might have been too late.
Vlad took the pillow from under Malachi. His limp head fell back onto the bed. He put the pillow over Malachi’s face. He didn’t even instinctively fight it. He heard the heart monitor not rise faster in panic, but instead slower in defeat, until at once it finally stopped. One long pulse. This will alert the hospital staff and soon they would come to the locked door, but not soon enough.
Malachi’s torso rose perpendicular to the bed. His eyes rolled up and then he fell back. His entire body cringed and he was a vampire again. His eyes opened cloudy at first and then as they cleared, he saw Vlad standing over him.
“We—” he said weakly.
“Have to move.” Vlad could head the frantic sound of the nurses approaching the door. Vlad walked over to the blinds and pulled them open.
“What are we going to do?” Malachi asked now awake and competent, but still in bed. “It’s day out, we can’t fly away,” he said as he noticed Vlad opening the window.
“No, but we can fall. We can’t use our powers but we are still vampires and won’t die from a high drop. It’s our only way out. C’mon they’ll have a key in that lock soon enough.” The window was now open and Vlad put a foot on the ledge of the window. Rain started to come down outside. “C’mon, what are you, dead?” Vlad asked with half a smir
k and then leaped.
Malachi heard the sound of keys rattling outside his door. Dressed in only his hospital smock he jumped out the window, allowing a show for downtown Los Angeles if anyone had seen him.
The door to the hospital room opened, and to the surprise of the two white nurses, the black orderly who still had his hands on the doorknob, and Dr. Hmong himself, they all found no one inside. The first nurse noticed the open window and raced to it. She looked down but found nothing but the roof of the mezzanea of the Saperstein Tower. Vlad and Malachi had landed there, but got up and ran off it before the nurse got to the window. They ran into the North Tower garage out of the sunlight. They debated about stealing a car but that would leave a hotter trail. Still, Malachi could not run around LA in only a hospital smock. They were out of daylight in the garage. Malachi changed to a gnat and hid inside Vlad’s pocket out of the light of the sun. Vlad made his way to a clothing store, bought an outfit for Malachi, and Malachi got dressed in an alley out back. The trail for the cops led them nowhere, and by the end of the day the police would not have any more of a clue as to what happened, than those four hospital staffers that found the open window in that vacant hospital room.
3
It was not a miracle of providence that Jasmine had not woken up earlier that morning to help complicate Vlad’s escape plan. She had, in fact, been woken up by her father around six in the morning, once he heard of the death of Father Pacami and some Raoul Wellington on the morning news.
“Honey, Father Pacami is dead.” He had no idea who this Raoul was. He knew Vlad as Vlad O’Connell.
“What?” she asked, her eyes still sticky from waking up.
“He was in London I guess, and his rental car flipped right over the London Bridge. They say in London they are amazed an accident of that nature occurred. They found his identification in the glove box. It’s all over the local news, since they learned he was from Los Angeles.”