Blood Stakes

by Upton, Bradley

  She nodded slowly, her hand straying to the empty shoulder holster. That’s right. He had taken her gun from her in the lobby when he surprised her. She was helpless, the most helpless she had ever been in her life.

  Malcolm turned his attention to the shivering form firmly held in his arms. He could smell the priest’s fear and hear his heart pounding in his ribcage. Malcolm opened his mouth, two sharp fangs gleamed pink in the stage lights.

  Father Bryant’s eyes were riveted on the thin points as they came closer to his throat. He struggled slightly; the hand on the back of his neck tightened, turning his head to the side. There was an infinitesimal twinge of pain, like the prick of a hypodermic needle, as the teeth broke the skin and punctured the jugular. Malcolm slowly withdrew the fangs from the incision and fastened his mouth over the wound. Hot blood coursed down his throat. He enjoyed the moment, timeless revenge would be his.

  John moaned in pleasure/pain as he felt his life being drawn from his jugular vein. Many regrets filled his mind as he sensed he was about to die. So many opportunities lost, passed by because of his choices and convictions. There was the word again - convictions. He would soon discover if his beliefs were true. He would be in the presence of whatever deity, entity or force that created the universe. Or more frightening to him, he would simply fade into oblivion, lost in the darkness. The thought chilled him to the bone. His entire life would have been a lie if there were nothing beyond his present, endangered, existence.

  Malcolm pulled away and looked in to the bewildered eyes of another nameless, faceless victim. “I offer you a choice. Life or death?” he asked.

  “What?” Father Bryant was slammed back into reality.

  “Which will it be? Eternal life in the darkness, drinking blood, or ignoble death?”

  "Need you ask?" The priest’s voice found hidden strength which surprised even him. “Death.”

  Malcolm set Father Bryant down on the pew, blood glistened wetly on the vampire’s lips. He leaned in, licked the wound at the side of the priest’s neck then kissed him on the mouth. Father Bryant's own blood painted his lips red like a clown’s. The priest licked his lips, tasting his own blood. He reached up to touch his neck; his hand came away with blood but the flow from the vein had slowed to almost nothing.

  Malcolm stood up. A chuckle burst from his stern face. His expression melted from a stone-like monolith to one of a maniacal harlequin. Absurd, hysterical laughter shook his powerful body, he couldn’t contain the peals of laughter. The sound made the two frightened mortals cover their ears.

  Slowly the mirth left Malcolm, a cryptic smile remained on his face. “I knew you would answer as you did. There was no doubt in my mind.” Malcolm said. “The rage I feel for you is immense. I could do many things to get my revenge. I could kill you swiftly, mercifully, but I would garner little satisfaction from an assassination. I could torture you for months before killing you but it would be tiresome. I don’t have the patience of an Inquisitioner. I could make you like me. You might torture yourself, but I expect you would walk into the sunlight at the first opportunity and spoil the fun I would have watching you in torment. If you were a vampire, what would win, hunger or your fiercely held morality? I wonder...” Malcolm fell silent and stood motionless. The only movement was his eyes as they flicked between Maggie and John.

  “Well?” asked John, his patience running out.

  Malcolm paused for a long time. He gazed at John and Maggie. He looked around the chapel and sighed heavily. It was cleansing. “I’m going to let you live.”

  "How magnanimous of you.” John said bitterly. A look of hatred twisted his features.

  Malcolm pointed. “There it is!” He cried happily. “That’s the hatred I was hoping for! I’m going to let you live because I cannot punish you in any way more efficient than you punishing yourself. No physical torture I could inflict on your body would cause you more pain than letting you live. You’ll tear yourself apart knowing I’m alive, feeding on mortals, perpetuating my race. I don’t kill, but many of my kind do, mainly because they enjoy it.”

  “You are letting me live.” John gestured to Maggie. “What about her?”

  His eyes flicked to Maggie. The long silence was frightening; finally with a small dismissive shrug Malcolm replied. “She gets to live as well.”

  “You’re a prince. Machiavelli would have been proud.” John spat the words with venom.

  “I never met the man. He was in the ground two decades before my birth. But he was, like I am, a pragmatist.”

  “It’s not a compliment.”

  “I’ll take it as one. Few men can transcend morals and a constrictive religion in the way I have.”

  “Not bad for a walking corpse.”

  Malcolm’s anger flashed to the surface again but he suppressed his violent urges. “I’d be civil if I were you. I can kill you yet!” His features shifted from anger to pity to amusement. “You’re emasculated. You can only lash out verbally. You’re helpless and weak.” Malcolm walked away, down the stairs of the stage to the edge of the darkness. “I must be going. I have miles to go before I sleep… as they say.” Malcolm spun, reached into his coat pocket. Maggie’s chrome plated gun flashed in the light, the barrel pointed to the center of her face. “I really should splatter your brains against the wall, bitch, for what you did to my precious Simone but I won’t. It wouldn’t prove anything, or bring her back to me unharmed.” He tossed the gun. It bounced heavily and landed at her feet. She reached down and picked it up looking at her reflection distorted in the barrel. She felt like her image looked in the chrome; stretched, tired, a ghostly face in a black void. She moved quickly, raised the gun up, pointed it at Malcolm, and pulled the trigger three times. No loud explosions shattered the silence. The hammer fell three times on empty chambers making a hollow noise which echoed weakly off the brick and concrete walls of the quiet church.

  Malcolm smiled. “My dear, you’d need the bullets for your gun to work.” He reached into his coat pocket and produced a handful of large, gleaming rounds. He put them back in his pocket and walked out of the light. In the darkness his voice rang out from no specific direction. “I have hope for you Father. With time comes change; with change comes progress. I can’t tell you why vampires roam the Earth. Maybe it’s what God wants.”

  They heard the sound of the large door opening and closing. Then there was quiet.

  In silence they sat. Neither said anything, neither moved. Limbs were heavy and numb. They had survived. Against the odds, they had survived.

  No, they hadn’t survived. Malcolm let them live. He showed unanticipated mercy, a vengeful creature showing mercy. They shook off their momentary paralysis. John raised himself off the bench and turned to Maggie. He extended his hand.

  “Maggie,” John said coaxing her mind back from where she mentally retreated. “Maggie.”

  She looked up at him.

  “Let’s get out of here.” John took her hand and helped her up. He swayed unsteadily for a second. “I wonder how much blood he took from me. I’m a bit light headed.”

  “I’m a bit lightheaded myself,” Maggie replied. She put the empty weapon in the shoulder holster. “Let’s go.” She circled his waist with her arm, supporting him as they walked. She needed his strength, too.

  They walked from the stage into the gloom. On the floor to the side was a large bloody spot but the body of the vampire who attacked Malcolm was missing. He couldn’t have survived. Malcolm must have taken the body. Or the woman who interrupted Malcolm had silently stolen the body away while he talked.

  “He won.” Maggie said as they walked out of the church. It was dark, still deep in the night. In the parking lot she could see a large truck. She steered John the other direction. It would be foolish to pass by the vampires one last time.

  She looked at her watch. It was just before 3 a.m. There were people still partying on the Strip, people still drinking, lovers still entwined in the night. The world continued to rotate,
to revolve, and traverse the wide galaxy. Had their adventures of the past few days made any difference in the destiny of the human race? She didn’t know. But it had made her aware of how tenuous and precious life was.

  “He didn’t win. Not really. He may have won here, against me. But no one cheats Death forever.”

  “I need a vacation from my sabbatical.” John mused.

  “I need a vacation from your sabbatical, too.” Maggie stated. She looked up and down the quiet street “And we need a cab. We survived and now we need to find some way to get back home.”

  Chapter 27

  The Road Ahead

  Malcolm stepped out of the church into the cold night air. It was still early. He could have killed the priest and the woman and saved hours, but he was tired of death. Tired of killing. His rage now burned coldly within him, but it served little purpose. If he had killed them he would have to dispose of their bodies. It wouldn’t have been much of a detour, a quick stop in the wilderness, but the timing of their journey would be tricky. He already needed to dispose of Thomas. Doing this would be easy. Ridding himself of human corpses would take more time than he wanted to spend. The remaining vampires, Dionysus and Anderson, waited. Everything important from the church and from his safe house had been loaded up and the truck was idling in the parking lot.

  Having moved hundreds, or maybe thousands of times in his four hundred years, Malcolm always had an escape planned. Most possessions were expendable. He always took a few items with him for sentimental reasons or because of their value. Most everything else was flotsam to be ejected into the ether. There was a destination waiting, a safe place a few hours away; a shelter from the sunlight. It was far enough from whatever drove him to abandon his present situation to be safe. He and his people would be protected during the daylight hours. The next night their journey would continue.

  Malcolm walked up to the white unmarked truck. It was large, 24’ long. Dionysus sat in the driver’s seat. She rolled down the window and shut off the motor when he approached. The loud radio died mid song.

  “Is everything loaded up?” he asked.

  “We have three empty caskets, one for each of us. And Ice is in back as well.” Dionysus face looked serious. “I checked on him. He looks pretty good.”

  Malcolm smiled. “Excellent. He’ll with us again soon. He’s still healing but you need to be patient. You grabbed Thomas from the church? His body was gone.”

  “Yes. I pulled him out of there while you let them live.” Dionysus was angry. She wanted the priest to pay for hurting her vampire lover. “I tossed his body in the back.”

  “Di, I understand your feelings, but it’s complicated. The priest will be haunted by this until he dies.”

  “I want to kill him.” She growled, “He could be haunted for ten minutes and then die!”

  “No. He remains alive.” Malcolm commanded. “I may return to kill him in the future. But right now he gets to live and we need to be moving on. Priorities, dear heart. Do you have that change of clothes?”

  Dionysus opened the door and stepped down from the truck. She handed Malcolm some clothes. He stripped off the bloody jacket, shirt, and pants in the parking lot and put on the fresh, clean items. He wasn’t concerned if anyone saw him. They were leaving. He stashed the bloody clothes in the jockey box on the side of the truck and secured the door.

  A car turned into the church parking lot. Malcolm recognized the familiar headlights of his approaching black Jaguar. It pulled to a stop next to the truck. Anderson shut off the engine and got out. “Good timing. Anderson, you drive the truck. Dionysus will ride with me.”

  “Ok.” Anderson opened the door of the truck and Di stepped down. She walked to Malcolm’s car and settled into the passenger seat. The leather seats were comfortable. She buckled the seat belt and waited.

  “Anderson, we are going to Cedar City, Utah. It’s about two and a half hours up the I-15. Follow me but don’t speed. There’s a warehouse near the municipal airport. We will stay there today.” Malcolm gave Anderson a piece of paper with directions. “This will get you there if we are separated. There’s a key pad to the side of the rolling door, the code is below the address. Open the rolling door and pull the truck inside.” Malcolm started walking to his car. “Oh,” Malcolm suddenly remembered something. “Somewhere along this trip we will stop to dispose of a body in the desert. I'll drop back and signal you when it’s time to get rid of it.”

  “Who?”

  “Thomas.” Malcolm replied as he opened the car door.

  “I thought he disappeared.”

  “He did but he returned. And then he died.”

  Anderson nodded. He hadn’t liked the new addition to the church. Thomas railed at the rules. He was too young to understand how tenuous an undead life in the shadows could be. His creator was remiss in explaining the world. Or if he did, Thomas had been too headstrong to heed the warnings. With one false move, one careless death, or one kill discovered, everyone at the church was in peril. It was safer now the fool was dead. Thomas didn’t like to follow the rules but they kept them all well fed and safe.

  Anderson climbed into the truck. He checked his side mirrors, buckled the seat belt, and turned the key. Lou Reed was blared from the stereo, telling him to take a walk on the wild side. Lou Reed could never have imagined how wild the night truly was. He turned down the volume and fiddled with the radio until he found a station he liked. Dionysus had left it on a grating progressive New Wave station. Her music tastes were harder edged, more punk; Cramps, Ramones, Clash, Iggy Pop, Black Flag, but a punk rock station couldn’t be found in Las Vegas. Anderson liked classic rock better. Better lyrics, less anger, and less grating guitar. He shifted the truck into drive and lined up behind Malcolm

  The black Jaguar turned onto the street. The truck followed. It took a few minutes to get to the I-15. At 2:45 am there was little traffic on most streets leading to the freeway. Once on the freeway Malcolm guided the truck north, out of the city, past darkened warehouses where fireworks are sold in the daytime then through the flat desert. Lack of water made the land barren. There was scrub along the sides of the road but trees were only at the oasis created by man. Even in the night time the air was dry.

  “Why did you let him live?” Di asked after a long brooding silence. She had grown bored staring out the window. There was nothing to see even with her enhanced vision. “Or her? She shot Simone!”

  “I know.” Malcolm stated calmly. How to encapsulate four centuries worth of experience into a pill a vampire merely a decade old could swallow? “I could have killed him. Easily. I burned enough where I could have tortured him. One night of screams and pain, but I lose my humanity with such an endeavor.”

  “You’re not human! I’m not human! He hurt Ice! He hurt Simone!” Di protested, shifting her body in the seat to face him. “We’re predators. They are sheep.”

  He glanced at her. “Ice is alive in the back of the truck. Simone is... recovering, maybe, where she can’t be found. I’ll return in a few years to see her condition. I don’t know if she can return to me.” His voice illuminated his pain. “Killing him wouldn’t remove the pain and sorrow I feel. I hate him, but I hurt him by letting him live. His misadventure into our lives has given him knowledge which will torment him. He’s a moral man. Our existence is going to weigh on him like a lodestone.”

  “It’s not enough.” Dionysus spat back, her pretty face enraged with anger.

  “It’ll have to do for now.” Malcolm said sternly. His tone softened as he continued. “I can find him at any time and take revenge. But tonight we must find a safe place. We need to figure out the next place, the next thing we need to do to survive. You’ll have Jeremiah back in a week or so. I can deal with the loss of Simone by myself.” He fell silent as he remembered people and places in the distant past. “I’ve lost more than you will ever know. With years and years of loss, you learn how to cope.”

  “Fine.” Di turned away and stared out the win
dshield. The Jaguar sped down the freeway. It passed lumbering semi-trucks as the terrain began to rise into the mountains. When they had traveled ninety minutes, after they passed Littlefield, Arizona, the highway started to undulate, going around the geography of the mountains. Ahead of them was an exit for a road in the middle of nowhere. Malcolm had slowed down and signaled to Anderson his intention to pull off the highway. There was a ruined body to dispose of. The Jaguar headed off the highway, the large white truck followed. Headlights illuminated a highway sign, ‘Black Rock Road.’ Malcolm turned right. The road was a two lane wide blacktop, older and neglected. A road which truckers used to pull off of the freeway to get some sleep when tired but still stay within sight of the highway. Malcolm led them south about a mile into the surrounding hills. When he was satisfied they would not be observed, he pulled over. The truck stopped behind him.

  Malcolm and Di got out of the car, their shoes crunched on the gravel side of the road. Anderson turned off the truck and pulled the keys from the ignition. He stepped down from the truck and shut the door. He glanced around. It seemed deserted enough. Anderson joined them at the double doors at the rear of the truck. He unlocked the padlock and opened the catch holding the door in place. He swung the door outward. The crushed body lay at the very end of the truck. Blood stained the wood floor around the remains of Thomas’ smashed head, torso, and emasculated groin. Anderson was shocked by the corpse. He knew Malcolm could be savage, but it was rarely exhibited with humans, and certainly not vampires.

  “Shit.” Anderson’s eyes widened in surprise. “What did he do wrong?”

  “Everything, simply everything.” Malcolm hefted the remains of the body out of the truck and walked to a spot in the dirt not far from the road. He dropped the body to the dirt and retrieved his bloody clothes form the truck.