Moving to a nearby sidewalk café, they took up seats with a good view of the girl. She was a professional for sure. Well groomed and carefully dressed, she cast aloof smiles at the groups of men who passed her by. She busied herself with a cup of coffee, more than likely cold from being used as a prop for hours on end, but she covertly scanned the tourists looking for just the right mark.
Tobias lightly brushed through the girl’s mind to ensure that she was the type of malicious human they needed. He spoke in a whisper as he transcribed the thoughts to the others. “The cut of the clothes, the brand of the shoes or watch, and the telltale sign of a removed wedding band would be her idea of a man ripe for the plucking. She sees groups of young men as rowdy and dangerous, single young men are too confident, but a man on the sly and not born in the slums fits her needs perfectly.”
His forehead scrunched in concentration as the swami, minus his headdress, continued. “She likes middle-aged men because they are hot enough under the collar to follow a pretty young woman, embarrassed enough to agree to duck into the seediest places for a rendezvous, and unremarkable enough that no one takes much notice of their presence.”
The konzum lanyok turned her head, as if something had called her attention to the group of strange men gathered across the street, and Tobias was forced to hide his smile. “She likes the way two of us look. However, Nicholi looks gruff and dirty. I look like a freak. Imre is a local and she doesn’t like the look of his skin. Patrick has a nice smile but doesn’t look like he’d be an easy ordeal. Her words, not mine. However, she would like to give Matteo a roll in the hay free of charge and free to go. It also seems young Drew here is pretty in the way that she likes her boys to be.”
“She’s thinking of just what she would do to our sweet faced young lad here and I assure you that it isn’t pleasant. The list of men I just witnessed in her mind definitely ranks her on our list of great prospects. Gentlemen?” Tobias stood from his chair and extended his hand to Drew. “We are going to all split up here. Drew, do what you got to do to get her to pick you up. Keep me posted and we will swoop in to help get her wrapped up once we are out of the sight of others.”
Drew nodded and took Imre’s hand in a friendly human gesture. The men parted ways. Matteo and Patrick moving down the street together, Nicholi, Tobias, and Imre disappeared down a side street and Drew was left alone at the table. Pulling out his cell phone, he browsed through his digital library allowing his vampire charms to handle the rest.
Books stored by the thousands inside a tiny device thrilled him. Scrolling the titles, Drew came across a comedic rendition of heaven called The Department from a man named SJB Gilmour. The premise interested him nearly as much as the reviews proclaiming the book to be a questionable read for the religious. Drew had always enjoyed the edgier things of life and the first few paragraphs engaged him so thoroughly that he nearly forgot his intended victim.
It seemed to Drew that the vampire lure worked well on men and women who were already tainted by death or the want of such things. Humans reacted to him in three different ways. Some sensed the danger of what he was and would visibly flinch or scurry away if he drew to near, their feeble minds only registering him as creepy. Others trained on the tingling of fear he caused and came nearer to him than their self-preservation should allow. Most merely overlooked him, too caught up in the new world to heed instinct. The konzum lanyok smelled of murder and he knew she would come to him without effort.
His soft laughter at the author’s wit was cut short by a startled oomph when her voice interjected. “Estét, good evening.”
Drew looked up into her smoky eyes. A dangerous glint danced behind the wide-eyed innocence she portrayed so well. Remaining cool, he tried to look detached. “Hello.”
Undeterred by the bored look on his face, the konzum lanyok began to spin her web. “The, um, piercings, yes, did they hurt?”
Drew smiled slightly, careful to keep his fangs concealed. “Not at all. I quite enjoy a little pain.” Extending his hand toward her, he introduced himself. “My name’s Drew. Would you like to join me?”
The young woman shook his hand, making sure to press her nails just slightly into the palm. “I am Rebekah. I usually don’t approach strange men but you have such kind szemek, umm, eyes.”
His laughter was not feigned. He honestly enjoyed her thin excuse but only for its transparency. The two chatted lightly about life in Budapest. True to her vocation, Rebekah led him to believe that she was very well versed in the hottest scenes. Ready to take her bait, Drew picked up a menu. “I’m going to have a bite. Would you like to join me?”
Her hand slipped over his wrist. “Oh, don’t order here. The kávé here is good enough but the food, meh, not so good. I know of a better place.” She let her eyes burn into his, the invitation for more than a meal clearly stated. Trailing her fingers along the low collar of her shirt, she purred. “Finomság. How do you say the word? Delicacies? Yes, delicacies that will tease your hunger.”
Drew smiled and she leaned closer, wetting her lips. Her body trembled with a sudden desire for sex and murder. She had never felt so inclined toward either in her life. He could sense the need in her mounting and his own animalistic instincts rose. He forced himself not to devour her on the street, not to attack at all. If he failed, the others would not react well. Matteo would destroy him. He knew they were watching, eyes like knives in his back, waiting to see if he could handle his part in the capture.
He followed her swaying hips and silky black hair as she led him down the street. Holding tight to his hand, she never noticed the cold that came from within. She only noticed the thrill of the excitement. Her mind buzzed with images of how she would mate and kill. Something dark and pulsating found its way into her veins and she couldn’t seem to see anything but the images of them tangled in a twisted bedroom game.
Drew smiled, pleased by Tobias’s message and the images that he sent along. I have prepared her with these lovely pictures. She will be so dizzy with bloodlust and sexual desire that she won’t notice anything or anyone by the time you reach her keep. We will be waiting with a car. Render her unconscious once you are alone and we will help move her. Signal when you are ready.
She tried to keep up her usual patter but it was too difficult with the consuming want prodding her onward. Forgetting her years of practice at seduction and lure, Rebekah gave in to the darkness. Stopping in the middle of the sidewalk she turned to Drew and kissed him with the full brunt of her desire. “I have a room. Nearby. We shall dine after. I must have you. Now.”
Drew mumbled against her crushing lips. “Yes. Rebekah. Take me there.”
His instant and complete surrender put her over the top. She walked beside him, quickening her pace, letting her hands run over his body in a way that was truly inappropriate in public. Just as they turned down a dark street a few blocks from the café, a warning came from Tobias. Matteo would like to remind you not to dally. If you would like to enjoy the company of a woman ever again, you will not dissuade the use of this one for our purposes and you will not delay our return to Vajdahunyad.
The disembodied voice was filled with menace just to enhance the threat and Drew did not like the connotations. However, he was not stupid enough to disobey. The others would not stop Matteo from carrying out the threat. The knowledge of his vulnerability made the acts that took place in the following minutes the most difficult he had ever faced. His pride rebelled against the demeaning threats and orders but he did as he had been told.
Rebekah pulled him through a battered doorway into a dark room that smelled of old blood and spices. Her hands found him without hesitation and she tried to tear away his clothes. Drew grabbed her face and kissed her with rough desire to the point that she whimpered with pleasure and pain beneath his cruel lips. As he edged the kiss down into a soft whisper, he hit her on the side of the head with a tempered blow. Her body went limp in his arms and in seconds she was in the car and on her way to Vajdahunyad, leaving him longing
for her blood.
He strolled behind the others as they searched the strip for another mind tainted with evil. Trying to swallow down the heat of the bloodlust that pumped through his veins, he pitied the feeder that he would take tonight. The creature would be provided with no mercy, no sweet surrender to the blood bond. He wanted to take them to the brink of death. He wanted more than that, but it was forbidden. He wanted to swallow someone’s soul.
They were nearly out of places to search on the Vaci utca when the sound of Patrick’s Irish brogue pulled him from the matinee of deathly imaginings in his brain. “There be a fine dandy, boyos. The lovely one with the pale skin and earthy way ’bout her.”
They had been out for hours, playing cat and mouse with various prospects. The game had grown tiresome and the night hours were fading. The hour neared midnight and they would need the remainder of the moonlit night to perform the sacrifice. Matteo’s impatience had returned and it was a sharp reminder of what lay at stake. “Tobias, a quick scan. Hit her heavy enough to crumple her mind for all I care. She doesn’t need to be sane to be used. Just find what we need or I’m taking the next human I can reach.”
Tobias locked onto the woman’s mind and forced his way through the thinly veiled human thoughts. His powers pried open the dark spaces of the woman’s mind where she hid her deeds behind a shiny veneer. “A good choice, indeed. She lures them in, her victims, by promising portraits. Her skills at both murder and the arts are impressive. She only preys on the very wealthy and extremely vain. Not all her models end up dead. She preserves many of them. She has contacts with the government. They like to make appointments here for unwanted participants in the political realm.”
Matteo smiled. “This one will be easy.”
Stepping away from the group, he ducked inside the shop to find her sitting at the counter with her hands on her head. Taking an appreciative look around, Matteo noted that many of the displays were pictures and photographs of children. His stomach churned as he considered the idea of an innocent child at the mercy of such a cold woman. Belle’s face came to mind.
The sharp Cockney accent grated across his brain like a cheese grater and snapped his attention back to the present. Though she tried to sound helpful, the pain zipping through her skull was evident in her voice. Tobias had not been gentle at all. “Can I ’elp ya sir?”
He almost allowed himself to pity the woman as he approached the counter. “I’d like a photo done just to commemorate my time here in Budapest.”
Her eyes brightened as she took in the man before her, instantly recognizing the signs of financial means. “Dat ’ould be no botha ath all.”
She led him to the back of the store where a large black velvet curtain separated her studio from the shop. “Come righ’ in ’ere deary. I ’ill geth ya seth up, I ’ill.”
Matteo stepped into seclusion and the lovely woman with the horrible voice followed. The guilt of what he was about to do washed over him, making his hand’s shake. Even though the woman was a monster, he hated being the cause of a human’s demise. He often reminded himself that they were simpler creatures than what he had become. They did not possess the decades to learn the error of their ways.
He sent the mental call out to the others and struck. Her screams were muffled by the hand he held over her mouth as his other hand slowly applied pressure to her throat. He deprived her of oxygen, not enough to kill her but enough to knock her unconscious. Her body slumped, weightless in his arms, just as the others entered the shop. Within minutes, they had locked up the shop properly and whisked the unconscious woman into the car.
30
In horror, the angels had watched as the girls fought against the darkness. When Soborgne had placed her lips onto Jenda’s, the others had cried out in protest. Michael had turned to God and asked, “Should I ready the army?”
God, in all his glory, had raised his hand in a gesture to stay his eager archangel. “We will watch, we will wait.”
The chains around Abraxos had tightened in a clenching reminder that his decisions had led in part to the oncoming events. His hoarse whisper had barely risen to the others’ ears before Gabriel and Michael silenced him roughly. “The truth lies in the blood.”
They had observed the next few minutes in silent terror. The way the girls had pressed their bodies against the demon and caressed him with such loving devotion had brought about more protests. Other angels, guardians all, had come to the throne room pleading for intervention. They had seen the death of their wards in the peili. The watchers had seen the bloody condemnation all of humanity would soon come to.
God had silenced them, “Watch and wait.”
The angels had watched and waited, filled with doubt. The troublesome scene before them had made some of them doubt. It had made some of them question God’s plan. None of them had spoken of their fears, but God had known. He, too, had watched and waited.
When the girls had attacked Andras, he had given the order at last. “Go now, my archangels. They will need you.”
Seconds before Soborgne had fallen, a flight of angels had left the heavenly realm. Led by the archangels in their beauty and strength, they had torn through the portals between the worlds. The thunderous sound of their approach was less frightening than the music that rose in the crimson distance of the demon landscape.
Jenda faced the demons, ready to die and give herself over to the bloodletting that would surely destroy her mind long before it did her body. Edging herself so that she stood between Soborgne’s helpless body and the feral creatures, she felt the first twinges of fear. The angel’s blood was fading, burned up by her supernatural system. The demon’s blood was making her sick.
She shook and trembled. Goosebumps rose on her arms despite the heavy warmth that exuded from the crimson sun. The demon’s blood, thick as oil, seemed to bubble inside her as if it were begging to escape the confines of her body. Nauseated and burning with the pain in her chest from Andras’s talons, Jenda knew she could not last long in a battle against so many.
The first notes of the song hit her and Jenda nearly buckled. A wave of harmony rushed over the cliffs and jagged crevices, casting an eerie light over everything it touched. On the southern horizon, the flight looked like a large meteor barreling down on a collision course. Jenda stumbled, nearly fell. Her thoughts were lost in the snarls and howls of the demons as they rushed her, animals driven by the sight of weakness.
Claws, teeth, and hands mauled her body all at once. She fought against them but the horde was already tearing her flesh from the bone. She begged in her mind for unconsciousness but it did not come. Her leg felt as if it was being run through a meat grinder. Talons thrust into her stomach. A demon with bright green eyes licked away the blood as if tasting the basting on a ham.
The meat was pulled from the bone and every sharp tooth that gnawed through her flesh sent a raging hot spike of pain through her. The only sounds were the frenzied growls, the wet smacking of mouths devouring the blood soaked feast, the rising melody, and the rolling thunder. The ravished noises the demons made were fading into the background of her mind, the thunder became only an undertone rhythm to the song.
Closer, louder, the voices called out. A sonata, a ballad, the cry of heaven’s rage fell down on the valley of the demons. A rush of light blinded her, or maybe her eyes were closed. Jenda could no longer tell. The song rose to its crescendo and the sound of death and vengeance filled her ears. Black blood splattered and then rained all around her. She was thankful that her body had gone so numb that she could no longer feel the pain as the droplets scorched her flesh.
As a human, Jenda had never known such horrors could exist. As a vampire, she had witnessed acts of depravity some could not begin to fathom. Nothing could have prepared her for what her eyes beheld when she looked upon the might of the angel warriors in the heat of the battle. Their beauty had been turned dark by the brutal justice they dealt with the blow of mighty swords.
The horde released
her, turning to defend themselves from their attackers. A head was relieved from its position on top of a dog-like demon’s shoulders. It rolled, end over end, and came to a halt inches from Jenda. The short, wrinkled snout, frozen in a teeth-baring snarl, nearly touched her face and the black eyes stared accusingly at nothing at all. The bile burned her throat and nose as Andras’s blood rushed back out of her body.
Her legs, bloody bones, were useless, and bits of her insides trailed from the deepest wounds but Jenda pushed herself to move. The numbness faded and the screeching feel of her nerve endings exploding under her skin caused the nausea to return. Fighting against the expulsion of sticky demon fluids, she crawled toward Soborgne. Arm over arm, like a soldier in the mud, she propelled herself through the mind shattering devastation until she could separate herself from the battle and still attempt to protect Soborgne. Still the song drifted all around her.
Angles fell, their final war cries breaking her heart in a way that hurt more than her wounds as they attempted to heal. Demons perished in great volumes of hellish moans. The sounds of death merged with the melody as it rose and fell. The tragic beauty of the notes seemed to pound down on the demon landscape as if it was a fist attempting to break through. The tempo sped forward, pushing the angels and demons into feverish bloodlust.
The battle was fierce but brief. The horde parted, fell back, rushed the angels, and retreated once more. At last the remaining creatures fled, scattering across the great land to hide from God’s justice. An angel stepped forward, surrounded by a light that was just a bit brighter than the others. His sword, smothered in the remainder of the ones he had slain, was gripped tightly in his hand and his ivory wings were stained with the black stickiness that seemed to fill the air.
Jenda trembled, too weak to even lift her arm in defense. She gripped Soborgne’s hand and accepted her fate. She understood that, when she became a vampire, she had become an abomination. She had reveled in her newfound love and life, despite its hardships, and had gone against God. She had known that the tainted blood in her veins was cursed by heaven and she had never believed she would be allowed forgiveness.
Requiem of Humanity Page 60