A vampire wasn’t supposed to be able to enter without invitation. If the ‘magic’ of a cross didn’t effect them, harm them, or keep them at bay, being kept out of a room because it wasn’t invited in now seemed quaint. And wholly unrealistic.
Ice didn’t attack. He stood smiling, which was even more unnerving. “Ah, you studied folklore, didn’t you? Read Dracula, I presume.” Ice was a palpable threat, a coiled spring, a cobra, hood flared, waiting to strike. “The thing is the stories aren’t true. Not being able to enter a room or building unless invited? Where’s the physics of that? I don’t know where Stoker got his information, but it’s wrong. He couldn’t have met one of us to have written something so incorrect. And folklore was made by peasants. Uneducated rural folk who probably needed to think there to be some defense against monsters. The reality is more sublime. Not at all what you’d expect, believe me.”
John stared at Ice. Surprising him with an attack would be useless, suicidal. His strength and speed could easily subdue John.
“I must ask, before we go further, why would you believe in... us?” Ice was a non-threatening reaper, patiently waiting for the dead man in front of him.
“I met one of you before.” John’s mouth was dry from fear. He swallowed hard. His throat parched as the desert around Vegas. “My mentor was turned into a vampire.”
“No shit?” Ice was surprised for the second time tonight.
“No shit.” John said flatly.
“Oh goodness, that’s funny.” Ice smiled. “What a contradiction he must have been. Someone out there had a sick sense of humor to turn a priest.” Ice laughed. “I knew a vegan vampire once. It was funny and sad at the same time. His hunger made him do rash things. We had to put a stop to him.”
“I’m glad you are so tickled by people suffering.”
Ice stared at him. The longer he was silent the more the priest fidgeted. He enjoyed the man’s fear. It amused him to see the raw emotion he inspired. Ice hadn’t had to reveal his true nature without beguiling his victim first since Malcolm set up the church. Feeding was easy but boring. What fun was shooting fish in a barrel? They can’t escape and they know no fear. The thrill of the hunt was gone, the thrill of killing with it. Malcolm had forbidden killing except in the most extreme circumstances. Firstly, it was unnecessary; secondly, when people died now, someone noticed. The priest in front of him might be one rare exception to the rule. He was a danger to the church; he couldn’t be allowed to live. Malcolm would agree and kill the man himself if he were there.
From ten feet away Ice covered the distance to John, grabbed him by the throat, and slammed him into the wall. John was lifted up, his back pressed against the wall. His feet flailed, kicking at Ice as air came in short, ragged breaths. John’s face was turning red and he could feel his heartbeat jackhammering in his ears. John kicked at Ice with his right leg and twisted. He brought the stake in his right hand up high and struck downward. In his haste the stake came down piercing the space between the left collar bone and the scapula. It was an explosion of unexpected pain. Ice threw John to the ground and looked at the wood protruding from him in shock and disbelief. Had the priest better aim or a better angle, a few inches to the right, and the stake would have come down through the top of his heart.
Ice quickly turned from the dazed mortal and moved to the door. He tore it open and fled into the night before the human could harm him again or possibly end his life. Not only did he know about vampires he brought the tools needed to kill them.
The thought of revenge, of killing the priest in lengthy and excruciating ways was the second thought in Ice’s mind. The first was survival. He didn’t have a car with him. Rarely did he use one when foraging at night. His usual haunts were close together. If he needed transportation cabs were at every bar and casino.
He ran through the dark neighborhoods. A man with a piece of wood sticking out of him would be noticed. He pulled his jacket off the stake and arranged it so it was a bulky odd shape, hopefully less noticeable. He knew if he pulled the stake out now he would start bleeding and could possibly die. It was best to have it remain inside him; it was a plug for his wound.
Ice had never been injured before, not like this. He should have killed the priest immediately. His own arrogance put him in this situation.
He headed in the general direction of the church. His speed slowed as the pain grew and shock set in. He needed a pay phone. And change. And blood, copious amounts of blood. Blood would help him heal. It would help with the pain. A homeless man passed by him on the street. Ice turned to follow him. As they passed by and alleyway Ice quickly looked around and grabbed the unsuspecting man. He clamped a hand over his mouth and carried him into the shadows of the alley. The man struggled but he was no match for the wounded vampire. Ice had complete control over his hapless victim. Ice drank deeply even though the unwashed human and his dirty clothes stank repulsively. He was focused on survival.
He left the man alive after he had fed and removed the incident from his memory. The blood helped. Ice ransacked the homeless man's pockets and took his change. Once again on the street Ice found a pay phone and called the church.
“Amanda, it’s Ice again. Get me Malcolm now! I don’t care if he’s busy, this is life or death important.” The terror in his voice made her afraid. Amanda put him on hold and within half a minute Malcolm was on the phone.
“What is it?” Malcolm asked urgently.
“I’m at Paradise road and Desert Inn. I’m hurt badly. There's a priest. He almost killed me. I need to be picked up now.” Ice said, the words almost an incoherent tumble of sounds.
"I'm on my way." Malcolm hung up.
In under ten minutes Malcolm’s black Jaguar XJS screeched to a halt in front of Ice. “What happened?” Malcolm asked as he accelerated the powerful car, steering a course back to the church. “How badly are you hurt?”
Ice pulled back the coat covering the stake.
“That’s bad but you'll recover. I’ll pull it out when we get back home.” Malcolm was shocked. This was a danger he hadn’t seen in years, decades. No one believed anymore.
“At tonight's sermon I saw someone new. Then, when I was out, I noticed him following me. I chatted with him a little bit. After I let him go, I got his information from Amanda. I went to confront him at his motel.”
“That was foolish.” Malcolm admonished.
“He knows about vampires. He now knows about the church. He says he found us by accident but I don’t know. It could happen, but he was ready for us, for me. His stake barely missed my heart. He brought stakes!”
Malcolm nodded as he listened. This was an unfortunate development. The church was doing well. If the age old enemy of vampires had found them they would have to leave. Find a new place to live. Why would the Catholic Church suddenly believe again? Hunting vampires stopped hundreds of years ago.
Ice told Malcolm everything he knew of Father Bryant including his car and license plate number.
“We will find him tomorrow.” Malcolm said calmly. “We must deal with you tonight. I’m afraid you'll need to sleep for a week or three. Your wound needs time and powerful blood.”
The Jaguar pulled into the church lot. Several people and vampires were waiting for them. They escorted Ice to the long building at the side of the chapel and Ice entered a room. It was an office which had been prepared. Cloth covered a large desk which had been cleared. Ice sat down. His jacket and shirt were cut away leaving him shirtless. Malcolm stood in front of him and wrapped his right hand around the wood sticking out of his shoulder. “This is going to hurt. As soon as I pull it I’ll give you my blood. It will speed the healing.” Malcolm placed his left hand on Ice’s right shoulder and held him still as he withdrew the stake. Ice cried out in pain and quickly passed out. He slumped forward into Malcolm.
Malcolm slit his wrist with a fingernail and let his blood flow into the gaping hole in Ice’s shoulder. “Wake him up. He needs to feed. Vampire blood, not human.
” Malcolm looked at two of the vampires in the room. “Dionysus, Anderson, give him some of your blood.” It was a command, not a request.
The svelte, spiky haired, post punk woman came forward and lifted up Ice’s head. She stroked his face gently. “Come on, Ice. Wake up, baby.” Ice’s eyes fluttered open. “Welcome back. You need to feed. Here, take my blood.” She slashed her wrist and presented it to him. He grabbed her arm and clamped his mouth over the flowing blood. “Slow, slow.” Dionysus crooned. “Take it slowly, baby.” She soon winced and pulled her arm away. “That’s enough. Anderson, you’re next.”
The tall thin blond vampire stepped forward and cut his wrist. Ice fed off him for a few minutes. As Ice fed a human taped a large bandage over the wound in his shoulder. It wasn’t bleeding like it would were he a human. Anderson winced in pain and pulled his arm away. He and Dionysus would need to feed again tonight to compensate for the blood given to Ice.
Malcolm helped Ice off the table and started to lead him out of the room. “Thank you for your strength. I will take care of him for tonight.”
Ice was a bit delirious; he was still explaining his encounter with the priest. They entered the chapel and went up on the stage. Malcolm released a hidden catch and moved a wide low cabinet from against the wall. It swung outward on a pivot point revealing stairs leading down into the dark. Malcolm helped Ice down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs was a concrete room, like a 1950’s bomb shelter. There were three open coffins. Malcolm helped Ice to one of the coffins and assisted him climbing inside. The bandage was starting to soak through with blood.
Malcolm slit his wrist again and gave it to Ice so he could drink. Malcolm was the oldest. His blood was the most powerful. When Ice was finished Malcolm stroked his hair like he would a child. “Sleep, Jeremiah. You’ve been grievously hurt. You will wake up in a couple weeks. Don’t worry about the priest. I will take care of him”
Ice closed his eyes. A peaceful look replaced the pained one. Malcolm shut the lid to the coffin and headed back up the stairs.
Chapter 8
Conclave
“We have a problem. His name is Father John Bryant.”
It was an hour before dawn. Malcolm stood on the dais of the chapel and stared silently at the ten vampires before him. They were a small loyal band of followers. Most were his progeny. He was their creator or had created their maker. There were two who he had taken in to protect and had given them a home. He commanded them but they weren’t always loyal nor bound to him as his creations. He expected they would leave if danger or a better situation came along.
The vampires looked at one another in dismay. Never before had they been threatened by anything from the mortal world. There was always the possibility of accidental death or injury. A car accident, or planes falling from the sky, any freak mishap which could kill a mortal might hurt or kill one of them. However if great caution and care were taken one might never be injured or killed. Because of their caution they considered themselves immune to mortal perils. Generations were born, lived, and died while they stayed mostly safe from harm. Mostly.
“How this priest found us I don’t know. But he believes in us and tonight he seriously wounded Ice.” Malcolm said. The vampires murmured in dismay. Ice was the third oldest, for him to be injured was earth shaking. “He may come to annihilate the rest of us so we must go on the offensive, we must stop him before he kills us. I have a picture of him from the closed circuit TV in the chapel. He was at the sermon last night. I’ve had photos made. I’ll send the humans out to canvass Las Vegas while we’re asleep. Be extra vigilant when you go to your rest. Make sure you are not seen.”
“How is this possible?” A vampire in the back spoke up. He was young. A teenager when he was turned, he wasn’t one of Malcolm’s progeny. Malcolm had allowed him merge with the church after discovering he was in Las Vegas foolishly hunting for food. He either joined or would be run out of Las Vegas. “You said I’d be safe with you. Was that a lie? I was doing fine on my own.” The adolescent know-it-all attitude would be taxing for eternity.
“Thomas.” Malcolm lowered a menacing eye on him. He silently stared at the young vampire. When Thomas began to fidget Malcolm resumed speaking. “You were not doing fine. You invaded my territory and you were killing humans. Did your maker teach you nothing? There’s no reason to kill. Especially here.” Malcolm stepped down from the dais and walked over to Thomas. He stood inches from Thomas. Malcolm’s height and power were intimidating but Thomas wouldn’t admit it if asked. “You’re new to this church. You didn’t have to join. You could have stayed ‘fine,’ in another city. Here, I give the orders. If you don’t like this arrangement you can leave.” Malcolm walked back up to the dais. “Right now if you have the urge to say, ‘you're not my real dad,’ don’t do it. This is a dangerous matter and I will not put up with this petulant attitude.”
The other vampires edged away from the newcomer. If there was a physical confrontation it was best not to be between the tornado and the trailer park.
“To continue,” Malcolm said, “I have a photo of the man and his information. I’ll send the humans out to look for him while we are asleep.”
“We will hunt for him after the service tonight.” Simone said, trying to mask her fear. She had been with Malcolm for hundreds of years. This was the first serious threat they encountered since the turn of the century.
“You're right.” Malcolm said. He smiled gently at Simone. She was always able to calm him. “It will be a short sermon tonight. I don’t want Father Bryant to escape us. He may have left town already. Any sane man would. Get to your resting places.”
The vampires left the chapel. They had hidden bolt holes, crypts in spaces on the church grounds where they slept. No one but Malcolm knew where all the secret chambers lay. It was a safety precaution for an emergency such as this. If no one knew where the others slept they couldn’t be forced to betray the entire church. A hunter might find a few hiding places but there would be some survivors in secreted places.
Malcolm unlocked a door at the side of the chapel and entered his office. He walked around the room slowly, lost in thought, before sitting behind the large desk. It was heavy and was one of the few things he had carried with him in his travels for over one hundred years. Most possessions he eschewed for expediency’s sake. Four hundred years of long life had taught him one important fact, things were replaceable; even the antique desk. Luxuries were nice, but life was more important. Companions made the slog through eternity worthwhile. The vampires he took with him were special. His two longest companions were Simone and Ice. Simone he had turned in 17th century France. She was peasant’s daughter with a sparkling mind and a heart for adventure. Ice, Jeremiah, he met in San Francisco during the gold rush. Both were invaluable to him. Now Ice was slumbering, healing. Malcolm would do anything to protect them.
The office was large with its own door leading to the outside of the church. Heavy curtains barred all light from the outside. Neither street light nor sun could penetrate the many layers of thick weave over the window. Occasionally there were times Malcolm stayed awake during the day. His age made it able for him to stave off slumber when it was important for him to do so. It was those times, undisturbed, he could think. And today he needed to think. Something needed to be done. Something drastic. The odds of finding the priest were waning as time passed. He needed to create a situation the priest could not escape.
It was 8:00 a.m. Malcolm called one of the human retainers into the office when the sun well into the morning sky. It was they who conducted church business during the daylight hours. All had gained some trust, and all were promised something which would never come to them. They were useful while they believed they would be turned, but once they started to question the delay they would have their memories adjusted and leave the church.
The man unlocked the door walked into the office. He was surprised to see Malcolm still awake. Jerry didn’t know it was possible to stay awake
after sunrise. In his mind the rising sun caused a coma-like sleep in the masters.
“Jerry, take this photograph, there’s multiple copies. Give them to the retainers. His name is John Bryant. He must be found, by this evening if possible. Check every hotel, motel, airline, bus line, every mode of transport. He may be trying to leave. He may be holed up somewhere.” Malcolm slid a stack of black and white photos across the desk. The photo was grainy. It showed a man and a woman standing together. The image came from the closed circuit system in the chapel.
“Yes, sir.” Jerry took the photos from the desk. “May I ask what he did?”
Anger flashed across Malcolm’s face momentarily, the man shrunk back in fear. “He hurt Ice.”
Jerry inhaled sharply, shaken. “Is he alright?” Were there limits to the immortality he sought? He thought nothing mortal could harm the masters. It was naive to think they were invulnerable, but it was what he thought.
“He’s wounded but healing.” Malcolm replied.
“That’s good to hear.” Jerry turned to leave.
“Wait. I have another task for you.” Malcolm said. His request would be a make or break moment for the retainer. He would do it or leave the church. “This may be difficult.”
“What do you need, Master?”
“Call the police. Give them one of the photos. Tell them this man was... our accountant, Robert McCarthy, and had embezzled money from the church. One of my aides discovered the crime and sought him out without my knowledge. He was given the chance to do the Christian thing and return the money. This morning at the church he was confronted and killed the aide. He fled the building after the dreadful crime. I hadn’t yet been told of the missing funds. Tell them you have reason to believe he is still in town because he hasn't had the chance to get the funds from the bank.”
Jerry stared dumbfounded at Malcolm. He had never heard him talk in such a strange manner. “But there’s been no murder. There’s no dead body to show the police when they come to investigate.” He words were halting and measured.
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