by Byron Thorne
“God has seen it fit to save you. Though, you do not look to be far from the deathbed. I’m afraid we do not have a doctor in the monastery, nor the horses to transport you with the haste you might need.”
He sat up and shook his head.
“You slept through the entire day. If you need to, you are welcome to spend the rest of the night here.”
Morgan shook his head one more time.
“I did not think you would accept the offer. Perhaps God has a different path for you. If that is the case, I pray that you follow his word.”
The entrance to the monastery shook, and a look of concern came over the woman. “We do not receive many guests at this monastery. Two in as many days is even more unusual. Were you traveling with someone else?”
Morgan figured the only thing waiting on the other side of that door was fire. He had nearly been burned that dawn, and it seemed like the mob of villagers had found him. The nun didn’t wait for his response and walked back up the stone steps.
He could hear what sounded like muffled voices, and then what he presumed was the sound of the heavy door being shut. Then, there was silence. Morgan still remembered that silence, made so much worse by the screams that echoed off the stone walls immediately afterwards. He knew it wasn’t the villagers, but something much worse. Another monster.
The screams stopped, and the sound of footsteps came down the stairs. Morgan saw the monster they belonged to. He recognized her beautiful blonde hair, stained with flecks of red. Her enormous blue eyes almost glowed with intensity amidst the bright red that covered her thin lips and dripped down onto the exposed skin of her chest.
“Garrett,” she purred, a smile exposing blood-covered teeth. “Garrett Morgan.”
“Garrett. Is this seat taken?” she asked, and Morgan was back in the moment, looking at Victoria Bennett in the flesh once again.
16
Victoria
“I told you not to call me Garrett,” Morgan snapped. The sound of his first name only filled his head with ancient regret.
“Oh excuse me,” she cooed, “Morgan. You’re so old fashioned. Nobody goes by their last name anymore. They haven’t for at least, oh, a hundred years.” She sat down next to Morgan, her lips turned up at their corners. Morgan hated that look. It reminded him of a cat a moment away from successfully stealing its next meal. “Anyways, I’m taking this seat. And you really should pay more attention. Although, you’ve never been the best at social situations, have you?”
“I didn’t know you were back in town, Victoria. I suppose that means I should take my vacation,” Morgan said.
“Don’t lie to yourself, Garrett. And don’t lie to me either. You could feel me inside of you as soon as I stepped off the boat,” she snapped. They always went back and forth, and she put up a tough façade because of it. However, Morgan knew she didn’t take kindly to being slighted.
Unfortunately for him, she was telling the truth. Suddenly, all of his recent reminiscing about his early days as a vampire made sense. He had chalked it up to a new, more live source of blood, and that might have had something to do with it. Whenever Victoria Bennett showed up in town, though, his mood changed. Although their bond had weaned after all of this time, it was still an unbreakable constant.
Victoria made an appearance every five years or so, during which she would do her best to torment Morgan. She would say that she missed him, and after a few nights would try and talk him into running off with her. Morgan always refused, and Victoria would get so mad she usually needed another five years to cool off.
“You’re looking gorgeous, as always. Still drinking the canned stuff? Maybe I need to get on your regimen,” she said, her lips back to that same smile. “Come on, Garrett. Don’t make me beg. Did you bring some with you, or do we have to go get it?”
“I’m fresh out, unfortunately. My familiar informed me of a shortage at the hospital,” Morgan told her. He would never have brought it to the conclave regardless.
“I assume you disciplined it accordingly, right? If a familiar denied me like that, well, you know what I’d do.” Victoria stared at Morgan’s bored, unflinching face. “Let me guess,” she continued, “you didn’t do anything, did you? You just let it do whatever it wants. Oh, Garrett, have I taught you nothing? Humans and familiars and all creatures of the night will only view your kindness as a sign of weakness.”
“You’ve taught me plenty, Victoria,” Morgan uttered, and he searched for something, anything else to concentrate on. He figured the orator would do fine for the moment, but then received an even better option. The front door flew open and slammed against the wall. It was enough to cause every vampire in the place to sit up and take notice. Loud interruptions were not the norm for Coven gatherings, as secrecy was usually de rigueur.
The possibility of a hunter attack briefly crossed his mind, although any such attempt would be nothing but a suicide mission for the humans. The intruder was, in fact, a vampire. Morgan thought maybe he recognized him as one of the younger additions to the Coven, although he had no reason to have ever spoken with him.
“You know, you really should participate more at these events,” Victoria quipped. “You’re always sulking by yourself. I don’t know how you can find them boring.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” Morgan acknowledged her, and together they watched as the exasperated young man took center stage. The fledgling vampire had clearly been in some kind of brawl, and it was a testament that he was still on his feet. Even from where he was sitting, Morgan could see the large wounds across the vampire’s body and even on his face.
“Fire caused those wounds,” Victoria whispered.
“My thoughts. Or perhaps, even silver,” Morgan responded. Silver and fire left similar marks on a vampire. They also caused excruciating pain and took much longer to heal than traditional wounds left from bullets or blunt objects. Morgan had plenty of experience with both.
The young vampire rambled frantically, but his sentences were far from coherent. Morgan could make out key words like hunter and silver. Victoria licked her lips, literally loving the drama of the moment.
Jericho, the orator, took back control of the conversation. “Calm down, whelp. Get it together. You’re in a sanctuary now, so I suggest you speak in intelligible sentences before someone finishes you off out of sheer annoyance.”
“A hunter,” the fledgling started, “found me, I don’t know how.”
“Because you weren’t being careful, whelp,” Jericho chimed in.
“I was. I was! He tracked me. He was good. Shot me with silver bullets. Look what he did to my face. He enjoyed it.”
There was a brief hum in the room as vampires mumbled to each other. It wasn’t uncommon for a hunter to enjoy inflicting pain upon a vampire. It was also just as common for a vampire to enjoy dishing it back. Silver bullets, though, that was a weapon rarely seen. They were painful enough and dangerous enough to cause some concern.
“But you’re here, now. You were able to kill the hunter?” Jericho asked.
“Well, no, not exactly, it was a miracle that I survived at all,” the young vampire moaned.
“You mean to tell me,” Jericho roared and grabbed onto the back of the fledgling’s neck, “that you allowed yourself to be discovered by a silver-bullet wielding hunter. Then, you somehow escaped, rather than killing him, and very likely led him back to the Coven?” Jericho tossed the vampire to the ground and he collapsed into a heap. “Can anyone give me a reason why we should spare this whelp from immediate execution? It is very likely he may have brought these hunters to our doorstep.”
The vampires in the room glanced around at each other. No one was dying to get pumped full of silver, and although vampire executions were fairly uncommon, the fact that it was a whelp made it difficult for most of them to care. Besides, Jericho was right. Without rules, the Coven was meaningless. The question that remained was: did the vampire deserve a second chance?
The Coven’s law didn’t call for the
death of any human that learned of a vampire’s existence. That was merely one way of solving the problem, and often the most effective. A vampire of Morgan’s power had the power to charm a human into forgetting the event had happened at all. It’s true that had any other vampire witnessed Morgan’s encounter with Jules, there would certainly have been questions he needed to answer. However, his power to charm humans was so well-regarded there wouldn’t have been many.
A younger vampire, colloquially referred to as a “whelp,” often needed someone to speak on their behalf. Unless, of course, they brought in a hunter’s head on a silver platter.
“Perhaps the whelp’s matriarch would like to provide an explanation,” Jericho said, with his foot on the back of the vampire. Such a gesture was exactly what Morgan hated about the Coven. They all walked around with that air of grace, and yet in a moment had no problem stomping a fellow vampire into the ground. There was so much hypocrisy. Although, the mere fact there was a semblance of honor among the damned at all was impressive in and of itself.
“Yes, fine, he doesn’t deserve execution,” a female vampire stood up and walked towards the middle of the room. Her face was calm and composed- it matched her hair, perfectly flat bangs that rested just above her eyes, as well as the formal business skirt that clung to her narrow hips. In all, it was a stark contrast from the vampire that she had created. “He’s mine, I’m responsible for him.”
“Please, Veronica, begin your explanation,” Jericho said and removed his boot from the whelp.
Veronica began to address her audience. “I turned this whelp because I believed he would be useful to the Coven as a whole. I still do. Some weeks ago, while I was out hunting, I discovered him following me in my Domain. When I confronted him inside of his apartment, he made it very apparent that he knew of our existence. However, he was not a hunter, nor a blood junkie. He desired simply to uncover the secret. As it turned out, he managed to follow me as well as two other vampires in this Coven. That is why I turned him, rather than execute him on the spot. As you all know, there has been an increase in hunter activity in Los Angeles. As technology advances so too does the extent of our risk. I tasked this whelp with tracking a hunter. Although he did not kill him, and in fact became discovered himself, perhaps I was too hasty in placing him in that position.”
“A reasonable explanation, Veronica. However, I do not suspect you desire to take the punishment in place of this whelp,” Jericho said.
Veronica broke her composure slightly for the briefest of moments, then fixed her jacket and proceeded. “No, I do not, but I believe everyone in this room will change their mind after we hear what information the whelp has brought us.”
“Very well,” Jericho said and took a seat in the gaudy velvet chair behind him. “Stand up, whelp, and make your case. Tell us what you’ve found.”
The young vampire stood up and brushed himself off. The pain in his eyes was visible, but he did his best to shake it off and present himself well. “Uh, hi. My name is, uh…”
Jericho interrupted. “Spare us the formalities and get to the point, please. You can tell everyone your name if it is determined your life is worth keeping.”
The whelp swallowed hard. It was a reflex from his days with the living, one that he would eventually forget. “OK, well, like my uh, matriarch Veronica said, I’m real good at tracking. When I first learned about vampires- from my own personal research, not from anyone else- I figured I must not be the only one that knew about us, right? Well, I heard on the street there’s a place where they all get together. A place right in this city,” he said, his confidence starting to come back a little bit.
“Of course there’s a place like that. Where else are they going to meet? Over the Internet?” Jericho interjected. That vamp loved to hear his own voice.
“If you please, Jericho, let him get to the point so we can move on with our night. I’m hungry,” Victoria yelled.
“Uh, thanks,” the whelp said, and when he looked at Morgan’s table his eyes went wide, almost like he had seen a ghost. It was a very odd reaction, as Morgan had surely seen the vampire around. He would have to monitor that situation.
“Anyways, I don’t know exactly where the hideout is. But I know who does. It’s the same hunter who I fought with downtown. I think he’s pretty high up in the organization. He usually travels with another hunter, a girl. They’ve been lurking around Hollywood lately. I was getting close to finding their headquarters, but I just slipped up. I have pictures of them, and pictures of their car.”
He unfurled a few photos of them, and they began to make the rounds. Morgan’s stomach dropped before he even saw them. He didn’t need too- he knew they would be of Jules and that hunter he’d seen her with. It was a clear photo of the man’s face, but Jules was obscured. Even at that angle, Morgan recognized her immediately. When the photos hit the table, he stared at them for a little bit too long. Victoria took notice.
“Why, Garrett, you look like you’ve just run into your ex-girlfriend at a party. Of course, I know that’s not possible, seeing as how she’s a human.” She laughed and picked up the photo. “I must admit, she does have a rather attractive body. For a human, of course. I can’t wait to taste her final drops. They’re always the best, don’t you think? Only if, of course, open season is declared.”
Jericho stood up once again. “Hm. Veronica, I suggest you keep your whelp on a much tighter leash. In the future, the creation of a familiar would have been a better choice. However, in light of the new information, the whelp will be spared…for now. It is now open season on the two hunters. Please, bring them alive. Or at least, one of them. Perhaps we can extract the whereabouts of the hunter headquarters. This meeting is over.”
17
Open Season
“Fraternizing with hunters? What do you take me for?” Morgan laughed. “You really have lost all respect for me. I do, however, think they have passed through my domain.” Although he no longer cared about trying to impress Victoria, he did see an advantage to creating the illusion. Victoria wasn’t one to participate in vampire sport- although she enjoyed killing, she considered herself to be in a rung above vampire society. However, if he found out that Morgan had even an inkling of interest in Jules she would kill her out of spite alone.
Victoria stood up from the table to leave. “Maybe it’s because you never take the time to impress me, Garrett. I’m famished. Let’s go have a drink, shall we? We’ve got so much catching up to do.”
“Thank you for the invitation, but I must decline,” Morgan said.
“You really are holding out on me, aren’t you? Typical. Maybe I’ll just go find that hunter and his girlfriend, and drain them both dry. If that’s where you’re headed, I’ll just tag along. You’ll hardly notice me,” Victoria said.
That was the exact opposite of what Morgan wanted. He figured he could stomach a few hours with the vampire. The biggest problem was one of the other vampires running into her first. Luckily, that hunter’s silver bullets would likely prove to be enough of a detraction for most of the vampires in the coven. As long as Jules stayed in Hollywood, she should be fine, and he could find her later. It was a gamble, but leaving Victoria to her own vengeful devices was a bigger one.
“Fine, I’ll go with you,” Morgan relented. Victoria cocked her head sideways and her lips took that sly grin. Morgan wasn’t sure if she completely bought it, but she was going to go along with it anyways.
“Absolutely divine,” she said. “Is Hollywood still your domain? Or did you finally give it up since you’ve been drinking the tomato juice?”
“No, it’s still mine.”
“Perfect. Because I would just love a star-studded night on the town. You’re just so hip, aren’t you?” she asked. Morgan realized it was going to be more difficult than he thought. The two of them hadn’t gotten along in such a long, long time. Yet, she loved to torment him. She had always loved to torment him. “Except, you still don’t have a car, do you?”
“I don’t need to drive.”
“Well that’s just great,” she said, her sarcasm almost thick enough for him to reach out and touch it. “Walking will let me see how the town has changed. Come on, let’s go before I wither away.”
The two of them left together, not without a few stares from the rest of the vampires. Their backstories were mostly unknown to the rest of them. Typically, it was the eldest vampires who held the positions of power within a Coven. Morgan and Victoria preferred the sidelines, and it only added to their mystique.
“Why are you here, Victoria?” Morgan asked coldly.
“Rude. You can pretend all you want that you’re not happy to see me, but I know you can’t deny it. You know I like to drop into town to check on you. Plus, it seems like every time I come back there’s some new drama. It’s always so good to be home,” Victoria said.
“Home?” Morgan asked. She didn’t have a home. The word wasn’t in her vocabulary. She was a wanderer, coming and going as she pleased. Only, she always left some form of destruction in her wake. Victoria was nothing but an annual winter storm. She had to have some kind of ulterior motive, she always did.
“Yes, Garrett, home. You’ve always been able to have one. So I thought to myself. Why shouldn’t I be able to have one too? Besides, Europe is so old fashioned these days.”
For now, Morgan would just have to play along with her game- much like he imagined she was going to play along with his. Maybe the two of them shared more in common than he realized. Deception was just one of the many survival skills that a vampire needed to develop over the decades in order to survive. Humans, and as a result, hunters, weren't the only things they needed to worry about. Morgan learned long ago that vampires needed to be just as wary of each other. The more information he divulged, the more it could be used against him, and the same went for Victoria.
“Now then. Where will you be taking me? An exclusive party in the hills?” she asked.