VAMPIRE WARFARE
Dominica Dark
Platinum Publishing
Table of Contents
Chapter One - Pursuit
Chapter Two – Rosalie
Chapter Three – The Boy Next Door
Chapter Four – Justin
Chapter Five – A Meeting
Chapter Six – Things Get Complicated
Chapter Seven – Seekers and Soldiers
Chapter Eight – Conspiracies and Betrayal
Chapter Nine – Needs Must
Chapter Ten – Preparations
Chapter Eleven – Journeys
Chapter Twelve – The House
Chapter Thirteen – Plans of Action
Chapter Fourteen – Evolution
Chapter Fifteen – Connections
Chapter Sixteen - Coming to Grips
Chapter Seventeen – Explanations
Chapter Eighteen - A Plan
Chapter Nineteen - Eden
Chapter Twenty – Awakenings
Epilogue
Recommended Resources
Chapter One - Pursuit
Feet pounding on the concrete, the sound of pursuit so close behind. Yet, the sense of exhilaration heightened as the pursued reveled in the escape of self-imposed confinement. To go as fast as one can was a welcome release.
The sense of exultation persisted even as the pursued slipped into the shadows of a narrow alleyway between two buildings. No sense in making things worse by a physical confrontation. The pursuers may think they’re ready, but they have no idea what they’re dealing with. But it could get messy, and messy was something that involved police and criminal investigations. They might have left records behind. No, better to keep it under wraps.
At the thought, teeth gleamed in the darkness. They were ivory white and looked extremely strong. The canines were slightly longer and sharper than the usual, but not immediately evident in an ordinary smile.
The pursuers rushed past, but the road ahead was long and easily surveyed. There was no sign of their quarry.
There were two of them, these pursuers, and they were dressed all in black, each holding a weapon. One held a sharpened wooden stake, the other a shotgun. Neither had opportunity to use it tonight as of yet. Or ever, as it turned out. They stopped sort, looking quickly around, but there were too many shadows. They knew they were dealing with someone dangerous, and could not afford to get caught in an untenable position.
“Shit!” the slightly stockier one, who held the shotgun, exclaimed, panting heavily. “I’ve never seen anyone move so fast!”
His companion was equally short-breathed. “Well, what did you expect, Roy? You didn’t think it would be easy, did you?”
“Shit!” Roy said again. “We’re never going to get another chance like that. They’ll be long gone by morning.” His companion’s silence spoke volumes.
“We’ll pick up the trail again,” he finally said soothingly as they started to walk back to where they came from.
“Yeah, right,” Roy said sarcastically. “They’ll use the same names they used this time. Do you know how long it took to uncover that last one? Nine months! Checking and cross-checking! And still if we hadn’t had that anonymous tip, we still wouldn’t have gotten this break. It’s a bitch!” he growled, pulling a pack of cigarettes and pausing to light up right by to the narrow alley where his quarry was silently watching.
“Those things will kill you,” his companion said in a tone that indicated he was without much hope of being listened to. A small smile touched the lips of their unseen companion at the unsuspected irony.
“Yeah, yeah,” Roy grumbled, starting to move again as he stowed his lighter. “You’re not my mother. Well, no sense standing around. Let’s go.”
They swapped ideas on their next step as they walked away, and their quarry waited for them to turn the corner before slipping away in the opposite direction. Some regret for the lives they now had to abandon yet again was given a second’s space before being dismissed. It was all a part of the package.
***
The house was dark, and a lone frog made an occasional disconsolate contribution to the still, moonless night. Just as still was the figure that crouched behind the hedges of the opposite house, from which the sound of a deviated septum could be faintly heard at regular intervals, almost in concert with the frog.
The only lights were a pair of street lamps that glowed about 50 meters apart, throwing everything else not in their immediate circle into deep gloom. Perfect surveillance conditions.
The watcher ignored the voice in her ear, requesting updates on her situation. She was bending all her considerable strength of mind on the silent house on the opposite side of the street, and couldn’t be distracted by babble over the link attached to her ear.
Chandra was sure she had detected movement in the house, and she was engaged in trying to pick up the thought stream when the equivalent of a high-pitched squeal hit her in the center of her forehead. She flinched involuntarily, and the slight movement was enough to reveal her to the silent figure that had been inching its way in her direction. Before she could redirect her attention to the unseen threat, she was thrown back and a band of steel surrounded her throat. She glared up at her attacker, clawing at the hands choking her into unconsciousness. The eyes above her glowed red. Then she knew no more.
The attacker slowly stood up, and was soon joined by two other figures.
“She’ll be fine,” the slightly taller one of the newcomers assured them. The shorter one grunted his indifference. The first speaker plucked the contraption hidden in Chandra’s ear, and listened for a while to the disembodied voice anxiously trying to elicit a response. The device was then dropped on the ground and crushed underfoot. A hand was placed on the forehead of the unconscious Chandra for a moment , as if to check for a temperature but actually to slip in a false memory, then removed.
“That’ll confuse her for a couple of hours. Let’s get going.”
Chapter Two – Rosalie
“I’m going,” Rosalie said, gathering up her things from the table, hardly causing a pause in her friends prattle about the latest chick flick about vampires. Ben jumped up.
“I’ll go with you.”
Ben was one of her oldest friends, and she knew that he’d had a crush on her for years. There was a time when Ben was a shy, chubby boy who had a hard time making friends. Rosalie kept bullies away from him and built up his confidence.
By the time he was twelve, he had a growth spurt and lost his baby fat. He was brown haired and brown eyed, with a pair of dimples that many girls found irresistible. He had eyes only for Rosalie, despite the fact that she dealt with him as she dealt with all boys who found her attractive; with implacable friendliness.
“I don’t think I can stand much more discussion on the rival merits of a vampire and werewolf,” he said, rolling his eyes at her. Rosalie laughed.
“I never watched it, so I can’t comment.” she confessed.
“Well, I think it’s a lot of bull,” he said scornfully. Rosalie gave him a considering look. “I mean, really, if any of these guys actually came face to face with a real vampire, they’ll probably take off screaming.”
“You think vampires are real?” she asked curiously. Ben face turned red; he always blushed easily when Rosalie was around.
“No! I mean, if they were real,” he temporized.
They were making their way to the library. Rosalie had a date with a couple of reference books.
“If they were real,” she mimicked,” what do you think a vampire would be like?”
Ben shrugged. “I dunno. I haven’t really thought about it. I think too many people are already, personally. All these vampire movies and books are
getting a bit boring.”
Rosalie nodded thoughtfully. “They can’t seem to make up their minds,” she mused.
“About what?”
“If they’re good guys or bad guys.”
“Oh, some are good, some are bad,” Ben said breezily, then gave a leer, “Until they get hungry and want to suck your blood!” He bared his teeth comically, and Rosalie laughed.
Rosalie was an attractive sixteen year old with hair as dark as a crow’s wing, equally dark eyes, and a warm toned complexion that had nothing to do with a tanning salon or sun exposure. She had a peculiar grace when she moved, and her slow smile had set more hearts than Ben’s tripping along a little faster. If she had a visible flaw, it was her hands. They had a rather sturdy appearance, and her nails were always cut very short. She was very conscious about her hands, and kept it hidden as much as possible. Otherwise she had none of the gawkiness or self-conscious dignity that girls her age invariably had, nor did she try to catch anybody’s attention.
She got her share of catty comments from those not in her circle. Snide remarks on her appearance, her speech and her friends got no reaction. Rosalie either pretended not to hear or gave the speaker an incurious glance. Her very imperviousness both to cat and male attention made her a double threat.
The field right outside the library was a favorite hangout by many students. A couple of guys were tossing a football back and forth, and a particularly vicious group of girls held court at a nearby bench that had a clear view of the track oval. As Rosalie and Ben walked by, her sharp ears caught their whispered conversation.
“—think she is?”
“—sees in her—“
“--heard she’s lesbo—“
Rosalie smiled a little at this, remembering a conversation she’d had with Simone, who was Rosalie’s closest girl friend and had gotten upset when this particular tidbit first began to circulate. Rosalie told her to ignore them.
“That’s easy for you to say,” Simone had said. “Ever heard of guilt by association?”
Rosalie had given her an amused glance. “You have a problem with lesbians?” she had asked.
“No!” Simone had said vehemently, sounding completely unconvincing. “I’m just not, that’s all.”
“Well, then,” Rosalie had said in a maddeningly reasonable voice. “It shouldn’t bother you then.” After a moment, she had added in a wooden voice, any trace of a smile wiped out of it, “If it’ll make you feel better, we can stop hanging out. I’ll understand.”
Simon had given her a scornful glance. “That’s a great solution.” After a short pause, she had asked tentatively, “You’re not, are you?”
Rosalie had given a peal of laughter that put all doubts to rest much more effectively than any denials.
They were just abreast of the group of girls when Rosalie felt that something was coming her way from the right. She raised her right hand and neatly caught the football, which made a brisk whap sound against her palm. It would have given her a pretty good headache if it had found its mark. Ben gave a low whistle.
“Nice catch,” he said as the boys who had been tossing the ball applauded and made motions for her to toss the ball back.
“Xena, the warrior princess,” one of the girls, Mandy, called out jeeringly.
“Let’s hear the war cry,” another girl joined in, and they broke out into nasty laughter.
Without missing a beat, Rosalie threw back the ball, deliberately aiming it to pass right through the group of girls. They shrieked and ducked as the ball whizzed past. The ball neatly landed on the original thrower’s arms, and he received it with an audible oomph.
“Ever thought of trying out for the football team?” Ben asked jokingly, ignoring the outraged noises they left behind as they continued on their way.
“I don’t like the uniform,” she answered flippantly.
But walking home that afternoon, Rosalie reflected ruefully on the reaction she’d get if they knew just how fast and strong she actually was. She remembered the first time she was made aware she was different from other kids.
It had been an ordinary day and her mom had taken her to the park to play with other kids her age. She had been happy that day, running up and down the monkey bars and fooling around in the sandbox. Her mom, who usually seemed to take very little notice of her, was more alert than she seemed. Rosalie had just given one of the other kids, an energetic boy with an engaging gap-toothed smile, a playful push, and the kid nearly toppled over head over heels. Moira had been picking up the kid before the mother had even noticed anything had happened.
“Are you okay, honey?” Moira had asked in concern. The boy had been a little stunned but unhurt. He nodded, and bounced back up. With the resilience of youth, he was soon gleefully doing his own pushing of the other kids in the playground. In the meanwhile, Moira had merely told Rosalie to be more careful and to all intents and purposes went back to her unconcerned pose. It was later that both parents had told the three-year-old Rosalie that other kids were not as strong as she was and had to be careful.
She had been walking with her attention inwards, and was hardly aware of her surroundings, but her gaze suddenly sharpened as she turned the last corner that would lead to her street. Something was different.
At a glance, the street seemed as usual. It was quiet neighborhood, with an occasional car that emerged from or turned into one of the houses that lined the street, but there was no throughway. The street was a cul-de-sac, and her own home the actual dead end, a two-story structure with a driveway that swept up to the house from the street and back out. It was about 5 houses down on her side of the street.
Rosalie took careful stock as she continued to walk, her senses on the alert. She had reached the foot of her driveway when she realized what was different. The house two doors down that had stood empty for some months now had a car in its driveway. Someone had moved in. And she had a feeling she was being watched.
***
In a different part of the world, a woman sat at a large chrome and glass office desk that was curiously shaped like a kidney bean. She was tapping at a virtual keyboard before a ceiling-to-floor screen, calling up an image of her most trusted agent.
She was a beautiful woman, shapely and looking all of twenty-five. She was actually 30 years older, and she did nothing about the whispers that was going on behind her back about the wonders of plastic surgery. It served her purpose of being strictly unremarkable in the rarified environment she lived in.
She was also a very dangerous woman, not because of the millions she inherited from her now-dead financial wizard of a husband, but because of the way she managed to turn the millions into billions almost without seeming effort. She had a finger in most of the pies that make up major corporations in the world, and while most were aware of this, none knew the extent of her reach.
She had power and unlimited wealth, but she felt bitter about being forced to deny her true nature free rein. She wanted people to fear her and her kind, and gain an ascendancy over the weak and disease-ridden beings who made up the majority of her world. She needed her kind to be acknowledged. It infuriated her to know that the only real hindrance to the fulfilling of this desire were the doddering, short-sighted elders whose maudlin concern for ordinary humans bordered on lunacy.
She now stared coldly at the virtual face of Serena, an equally beautiful woman but younger and more delicate. Her air of fragility was her major asset, as it allowed her to get into the bed of the most powerful men in the world, and learn their secrets to the advantage of her leader. She was known by a variety of names, but Serena was her real one.
“Report,” the woman behind the desk said tersely.
“Cole has arranged for a two-week vacation,” Serena said in her sweet, soft voice that hid a cold heart. “It seems certain that the elders are arranging a meeting of some import. The location is as yet hidden from me.” Serena had succeeded in worming her way up the ranks of Cole Engineering, currently dispens
ing her favors to the CFO. Cole Engineering was the stronghold of Gerard Cole, the genius behind the emission free engine that was currently giving automakers gastric ulcers and environmentalists hard-ons. He was also the elder who was financing the training and equipping of the Seekers and Soldiers hunting them down.
“Where is Cole headed?” she asked Serena.
“Cole has instructed that all urgent communications be routed to his yacht, so it may be that he is planning to hole up in Eden,” Serena said, referring to the private island which served as Cole’s retreat from the world. It was beautifully preserved, with naturally-occurring fresh water ponds that jumped with fish, and vegetation of all kinds grew in profusion. It was also completely self-sufficient and heavily fortified against both physical and mental intrusion. None of the Seekers have yet managed to penetrate the mental shield that protected the island’s inhabitants.
The woman considered this for a long time, then finally said, “That would seem logical, but keep your eyes and ears open in any case. Cole is slippery, I wouldn’t put it past him to lay a false scent to throw us off.”
Serena inclined her head and with a tap of the keyboard, the image vanished, leaving the screen luminously blank. The woman sat in her chair for a long time.
Chapter Three – The Boy Next Door
He watched as the girl walked past the house. She had looked up briefly but searchingly once, and now seemed to be determined not to do so again. Her easy stride nevertheless suggested some tension to his keen eye, and he imagined that she was getting the willies. He grinned.
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