Lost Time

by M C Ashley

  One of the rarest divisions of the Sanguine Collective were the dhampir—scions of unions between vampires and humans. Very few children survived to adulthood in this situation, as they often killed their mothers in a bloodlust during their incubation, but I’d seen enough dhampir to know that others managed to survive birth to menace society. If they were lucky enough, their birth was the only time they fed and could lead a normal life without ever knowing of their true origins. However, depending on which branch of the Collective they originated from, they would be forced into a change based on certain incidents in their lives. I’d once been forced to kill a young dhampir who’d killed the first man she fell in love with, as the opposing positive emotion activated their latent abilities, causing the dhampir to experience the opposite, which they then fed on. There were some in the Gray Forum who argued they could still be saved after this, but I erred on the side that had them killed before they could kill anyone else. Better to be safer that way.

  Empathic vampires suffered from some weaknesses, but not to the extent of your Stoker-esque vampires. Stakes to the heart could kill them, but it needed to drain them completely of blood in the process, otherwise it was useless. Garlic was useless, as was its use on any vampire. Holy symbols made them weak, but they could easily grab any cross you had in your hand, and only suffer minor burns.

  The biggest thing anyone could have against an empathic vampire was holding what was opposite to their power. If they fed on lust, you needed to be in love; if greed, then generosity; if anger, then peace; and if fear, then courage. Unfortunately for most people, they were unable to viably be in any of those states of minds as they were being eaten from the inside out by psychic vampires. I doubted if I could fight them off with just that. However, invocation was particularly good against them, if you were skilled enough. Most Sentinels and Psionics are under the false belief that only light and fire invocation work well against Collective vampires. They would be wrong. Anyone skilled enough in any field of invocation could use their chosen element to erase a vampire from existence; even darkness, like I use. Most people forget that God didn’t just create light, He also created the dark as well, meaning it doesn’t have to be a bad thing if used properly. Fire, of course, is a natural purifier, so using it will give you an edge, but I’ve never been particularly skilled in fire invocation.

  I prayed that there were no evokers among them. Very few members of the Sanguine Collective could do what we did, but those that did were very strong. In contrast to the Christened, who perform invocations based on asking God’s help in allowing us to use our powers, evocation relied solely on personally casting the energy necessary to fight others. In truth, most of the differences between the two schools of thought were small. Invokers could evoke naturally and there was nothing inherently wrong with doing so. However, we believed in asking permission from God for using the abilities we had. Now, I’ve never actually heard God reply when I invoked nor did I feel His wrath whenever I evoked, but I believed intent and respect had a lot to do with how you used your abilities. However, it was true that every single evil caster of “magic” evoked to use their abilities for their own selfish reasons. Then again, there were plenty of members of the Gray Forum who were staunchly atheist, agnostic, or members of another religion, and they performed evocations instead of invocation and never turned against us. I wasn’t a philosopher or a rules lawyer, so I never really cared that much about what others did so long as they did their job.

  I looked for the closest store and found myself standing in front of a pottery dealer with a haggard expression on his face. He checked me over for a second, but didn’t say anything, so I took that as my cue to talk.

  “Where’s the closest place of lodging?” I asked.

  “You don’t waste any time,” he said, standing up. “The resorts are located near the center of the city. Your…needs will be taken care of there.”

  I tried not to flinch and failed, making him laugh.

  “Listen, kid, we all know what visitors are here for. You’re here to see the Feast and have the time of your life with as many great soul suckers as you can. There’s no shame in it.”

  I nodded. “It’s my first time,” I deadpanned.

  “Ah, then they’ll love you. Virgins get ‘em riled up, especially the lust guild. You came to the right place, kid. I visit ‘em all the time. Here, give ‘em this and tell ‘em that Max sent ya.”

  He passed me a piece of paper and I accepted it, glancing over the paper as I saw the name Zoë Slinden on it. “Thank you, Max. This might be just what I need.”

  “Ain’t nothing like it, kid. They know how to make a man feel good.”

  “So I’ve heard. Though I’m sure Nixon would tell you a different story.”

  He looked at me like I was crazy. Looks like no one here knew their basic history lessons. Not surprising, given the apocalypse and all.

  Richard Nixon had been vexed by one of the Sanguine Collective’s top agents, who’d seduced him through her fixation on his greed, at least until one of ours killed her.

  “Nothing, just an old joke,” I said. “Okay, so the same amount of people this year for the Feast or did they stack up the pot?”

  “Nope same as always.”

  “Charming. I know we sent in a couple this year, but I was told that there were some other participants as well. My bosses don’t keep me up with what’s going on. I’m relatively new to the whole thing.”

  “Makes sense. You might want to be careful with your questions, kid. Some of the enforcers in the area might flag you as a security risk.”

  “Oh, heavens, I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “It’s okay, don’t worry. Just wanted to give you a heads up. You are right, though, you weren’t the only people who were bringing in sacrifices this year. I’m not surprised you haven’t heard that The Horde are participating too.”

  “The Horde?” I asked, flinching.

  This was not good. The Horde almost never worked with the Sanguine Collective. At the last report back home, both groups were relatively close to declaring war against each other. An act like this was unprecedented, but then again, so were a lot of things now.

  “Don’t know much about them, eh?” Max asked. “It’s okay. Not many people know seeing as they just came out of hiding a year ago.”

  “They were hiding?” I asked. “For what reason?”

  “After the Collective took out the wizards, they started taking out all the other groups that they hated and The Horde was no exception.”

  “They weren’t wizards,” I corrected.

  “What?”

  “Wizards are evil. They practiced actual magic. Invokers use creative energy to do God’s will.” I paused. “Or so I heard.”

  “Ah, I see. No one knows the whole story anyways. The Horde was almost wiped out a hundred years ago by the Collective. From what I heard they hid away in Asia and Africa, and worked for years underground, building up their power while the Collective was busy here. They send slaves here to be used for whatever the Collective wants.”

  I nodded. That sounded like The Horde I knew, but with every piece of hearsay I was gathering, the more I felt alone and powerless. Not only had the Collective taken out the Gray Forum, but they had also all but annihilated The Horde as well? What about Resurrection or the Alpha Syndicate? What in the world was I up against?

  “You okay, son?” Max asked. “You look a little pale.”

  “Nothing,” I lied. “Just nerves. Thanks for your help, Max. I think I’ll just have to rest my cares away at the resort.”

  “A pleasure. What’s your name, son?”

  “Stephen Strange.”

  We nodded at one another and I walked along the street until I heard a voice call out to me from behind, saying, “Hold on, Stephen!”

  I turned around and found Max running up to me. He dropped a piece of paper in my hand and said, “You might need this” before he turned around and went back to his shop. I opene
d the paper and examined it, finding a map of Vice City, which specified several key locations scattered throughout the city. I found a place labeled “Zoë Slinden’s home” and checked my current location to it, discovering that I was still a couple of miles away. I scanned the map, finding the exact center of the city had been circled with the word “Feast” written around it. Figuring it would be the best location to ask around for more information, I tucked the map away in my coat pocket and trekked forward, or at least until I felt someone trying to scan my mind.

  I gritted my teeth and stood in place, weighing my options. Someone was out there deliberately probing my mind. Fighting it off was a must, but I needed to do it in a way that didn’t give away who I was. If a member of the Sanguine Collective caught wind of a Sentinel in their midst, I was a goner, so the attack needed to be something that did not involve invocation. Instead, I would have to rely on my mind to force this person out to prevent them to figure out who I was.

  Looking to my right, I saw no one suspicious, as I transmitted an image of a dog running away from me that had come from my youth. I kept the images vague, so that they wouldn’t give my anachronistic nature away. I walked to the left as if nothing was going on, as I still felt movement within my mind. I flashed an image of a woman I had once known laughing at me. I had fallen into a pond while attempting to save a frog—the woman’s pet—from drowning, as I had stupidly forgotten in one of my many moments of chronic heroism that frogs were able to swim. Then I paused. That had never happened to me. Or not that I recalled. I shook my head and scanned the area to my right and watched the people moving along.

  If this person was good at what they were doing, then they could walk around the block and not even be bothered by attempts to throw them off my mental trail. However, from the signals I was dealing with, I could tell a novice was at work, which meant that they had to be stationary. I looked upward, seeing a woman with red hair ducking out of view the moment I met her cobalt blue eyes.

  Interesting, I thought. Looks like she gave up on probing me. Now who are you, my dear?

  Reaching out to locate her would give away my position to anyone listening in, but I felt safe for some reason, as there was no reason to think anyone was involved in our personal little mental war. I expanded my consciousness and felt her voice in my head, but I was quickly shut out and the blow disoriented me. I grabbed my head and massaged my temples. Such power. I may have been dealing with a mental novice when it came to probing someone else’s mind, but whoever this woman was, she was more than capable enough to protect her own thoughts.

  Well, I thought, whoever she was, she’s probably been scared off. Couldn’t hurt to keep looking behind my shoulder, though.

  Shrugging it off, I continued walking, checking frequently to make sure she wasn’t near. After about an hour, I gave up, as it seemed she’d done the same. At about that time I ended up in the center of the city, which was packed with more people than the outskirts of the town, therefore making it easier for me to slip in and out of crowds as just another face, especially because of the darkness of night.

  I became aware of someone else who was interested in me, but I couldn’t pick them out. This person was different than the woman. They were not as intelligent, but still bright enough to pick me out as a target. Fear started to seize me, as I felt the chills running down my spine. I started looking for escape routes, figuring my best way out would be to run down the alleyway to my right, I almost sprang into action, but then I felt a hand in one of my outside pockets and I spun around to find an eight-year-old boy in the act of stealing from me. He froze the instant he recognized his carelessness, and he was about to say something when a stun baton whacked him in the head and knocked him out. The kid fell to the ground and landed in a mud puddle, which almost splashed on me, but I stepped out of the way in time.

  Turning to my right, I found a man in a black-and-white armored uniform looking back at me. His eyes were covered by sunglasses, he had black hair, and stood about half a foot taller than me. He offered me a friendly smile as he grabbed the boy by his hair, and lifted him up to examine him. The boy was too frail to be called a human being. His body looked as if it had atrophied from lack of food and his wiry hair appeared to be falling out prematurely. The man poked him once to see if he was conscious, but he didn’t move.

  “You okay, sir?” he asked, placing handcuffs on the boy.

  “Fine, sir,” I said, as he slung the boy over his shoulders.

  “Enforcer.”

  “Oh, please forgive my carelessness, enforcer. I meant no disrespect.”

  “You are fine. Do not make the same mistake again.”

  “I understand, enforcer. How is the boy?”

  “He’ll wake up soon enough, although you know the price for thievery here.”

  I shook my head. “I’m new here.”

  “Ah, yes, you must be one of the ambassadors.” He extended a hand. “I am called enforcer Cole.”

  “Ambassador Remus Lupin of the Free-Zone.”

  I accepted the hand and involuntarily shivered. His hands were cold to the touch, letting me know instantly his status as a member of the Collective. He seemed to notice my reaction and smirked the moment we let go of each other.

  “Well, Mr. Lupin, since you asked, the boy will be taken into custody and then beaten and questioned.”

  “I see,” I said, wishing I could do something fast.

  Cole turned to his right and offered the boy to a fellow enforcer, who grabbed him tightly and moved out of our vision.

  “Would you care for a drink, Mr. Lupin?” Cole asked, surprising me.

  “Why, I—sure, of course,” I said. “Thank you for your hospitality, enforcer.”

  “It is my pleasure. I grow tired of dealing with common folk. It’ll be interesting to talk to someone entertaining for once.”

  “Well I hope I can rise to the challenge. Where to, enforcer Cole?”

  I couldn’t trust him, not for a second, but I needed information. I was desperately out of my reference pool, and I needed every scrap of truth I could gather.

  “Right here’s a good place to unwind,” Cole said, pointing to an establishment called Caritas. It was a dingy looking dive bar, with dusty looking windows, and a faded pink neon sign that bore its name.

  “So long as they don’t ask me to sing,” I quipped, joining him as he entered the bar.

  There was the regular assortment of riffraff in the bar, with seedy individuals involved in hushed conversations, especially when they saw an enforcer enter the room. We sat down in the furthest section of the bar, the bare light of the moon losing its ability to transmit color the moment we situated ourselves. Outside the window was a small grapevine, looking out of place in the city, but someone seemed to have tended to it. I pushed it from my thoughts to focus on my predicament.

  Everything I was doing right now was absolutely foolish, but it’s all I had going for me. I had no base of operations, no extraction team, and no allies. I was alone in enemy territory with very little chance of escaping without getting into a citywide brawl. A smart man would’ve gotten the heck outta Dodge, but I wasn’t a smart man. I was a curious one.

  “So, where were you stationed at in the Free-Zone?” Cole asked.

  “Oh, you know very well that I can’t tell you that,” I said. “Suffice to say that it’s one of the lovelier parts of the country.”

  “I see.”

  “So will the Feast be expanding into any locations this year?”

  “No. Just thirteen cities, like always.”

  “Fascinating. I mean, well, I guess you can see how I have mixed feelings on the issue and all, but I’m glad that I’m not involved in the festivities.”

  “We only choose the degenerate members of society. That young boy I caught for example.”

  I tensed up. “Oh, dear. I didn’t know.”

  “It’s how we deal with crime here in Collective land. You commit them, then you automatically beco
me a part of the Feast.”

  “Well it is understandable, seeing as how crime must be dealt with.”

  “Absolutely. I’m glad we see eye to eye on this.”

  “Yes, yes. But why continue this Feast? Surely the past three times must’ve been able to get the point across?”

  Cole smirked. “Humans never learn their lesson. It’s not your fault; you’re just inherently flawed. You have this annoying quality for hoping that things will change, even when it’s impossible.”

  “I see your point. So, this will always happen? Every twenty-five years?”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  He leaned in closer. “We plan on doing this more frequently.”

  “But why? Surely you need the time to allow us more time to procreate, thus giving you the chance to sacrifice us without losing your food source?”

  “You would think, if we were just dealing with humans living here.”

  “The Horde?” I asked, musing out loud.

  “Oh, you heard about that, eh? Yes, we have been in contact with The Horde. They are giving us a tribute of slaves from Africa and Asia. Subpar humans, but they still provide food.”

  Oh, great, I thought. Racist vampires. Will wonders never cease?

  “You’re getting a supply from overseas,” I said. “One that will last for years.”

  “Yes,” Cole said. “That’s why we intend to do this every year until the world ends, and we create a new one.”

  I blinked twice. “I don’t follow.”

  He laughed. “We have plans, Sentinel. Plans you’re trying to disrupt.”

  I poured every ounce of willpower I had to stop myself from allowing the smallest ounce of fear from leaving my body.

  “How did you know?” I asked, coming up with escape plans that were probably doomed to fail.