Rebel Vampires: The Complete Series

by Rosemary A Johns

  My name is…

  A thin crack of light broke through the bottom of my eyelids.

  I could move.

  Just a fraction but I’d take what I could get. My pulse pounded, as I wiggled my toes.

  Blinding: that’d never felt so good.

  Next my fingers. They felt loose, as if I was a rag doll, or had been on one hell of a bender. Tongue next: serious one that, because not talking…? You try it when you’ve got a big mouth like me. My tongue was like a sleepy snake but still…possibilities.

  I risked opening my eyes half-mast.

  Bollocking hell.

  Retinas scorched, with tears running down my cheeks, I let out a strangled yelp.

  Voice box was all right then.

  Gasping, I waited for the blaze of glory to settle. Fuzzy shapes appeared like ghosts out of the strip lighted haze: a glass barrier directly in front of me out into a corridor, which was paneled in bronze military style, as if I’d been swallowed by a beetle and was pinned to its metallic guts.

  Let’s all scrutinize the bug on the slide.

  I could see my own naked, strapped down reflection bounced back: I wouldn’t be winning any Miss Britain sashes.

  An IV set-up was running into the back of my left hand; there was a steady ache where the needle pressed under the skin. A crimson bag hung limp from the stand. It was stamped with a logo of a branching black tree.

  I sniffed: human blood. My hollow belly groaned.

  They were keeping me alive like a sodding coma patient. Suddenly, the slavers’ baby bottles were looking more appealing.

  I licked my dry lips. There was no water or food. Of course not, because I wasn’t human, was I?

  “Paralysis has reduced in subject,” the Cornish scientist mused.

  I rolled my head to one side to see my chief tormentor in the long dark. He was a spindly bloke with neat gray hair and intense eyes like a decrepit spider. His lab coat, over cord trousers, was too short and his shirtsleeves were rolled back, revealing thin forearms. The tosser was scribbling notes in a file on a ‘60s oak desk, which was out of place amongst the laptops, Blackberries, and steel trays of scalpels, pliers, saws…and the sliced remains of Will’s green bracelet.

  I was going to hurl.

  The scientist scampered to my side, running his gloved hand down the center of my body with casual ownership. His fingers curled around my cock: weighing and measuring. “As noted earlier, Subject One is…average.”

  I shot out my fangs. “No touching the goods, Frankenstein.”

  “Subject One is moody because it’s still tired. Do you have the gag?”

  “Yes, professor,” an anxious female First Lifer this time (must be the usually silent assistant), “but surely we don’t need—”

  “Call me Ivor. Do you think that I care about titles like professor?”

  I twisted to the other side.

  A frumpy woman in an oversized lab coat was banging through a glass cupboard of scientific equipment.

  Torture devices.

  If you’re the rat it’s one and the same.

  The assistant was flushed and wouldn’t meet my eye. She brushed back a stray brunette strand, which had fallen out of her ponytail, as she handed Ivor a steel gag. It even had the tree logo on it.

  “Thank you, Ms Shah.” Ivor held out the gag to me like it was a gift. “Now if the subject is a babby and won’t open up, remove the IV. It’ll do it some good to go without food. See if the subject won’t behave then.”

  I glanced between them. Sometimes you have to lose a battle to win a war. And sometimes…? You don’t even know who you’re fighting.

  Reluctantly, I withdrew my fangs and opened my mouth. Tremors took hold, as Ivor fixed the gag at the back of my head, wrenching my jaw, and then as the experiments began.

  Sometimes, as I drifted in and out of paralysis in a pain induced fog, I just wished that they’d bloody get it over with.

  Whatever it was.

  Because this was playing silly buggers, like a kid pulling off a fly’s wings.

  I tried to remember if I knew the bastard: it felt personal. Maybe I’d noshed his ancestors or feasted on his lover back in the bad good old days with Ruby? Yet there’d been a rule: no witnesses. Ruby had drilled it into me with kisses and clouts.

  I couldn’t have been that careless…?

  Despite the relish Ivor was taking, however, there were also the soldiers with their hands smartly behind their backs, observing me in all my naked, battered glory, as they stood behind the glass.

  The soldiers had curt chats, but because my cell, which masqueraded as a lab, was soundproofed (after all, it’d be a crime for my screams to interrupt their morning coffee), I couldn’t hear them. Their expressions (like an army of clones) were always the same: a dumb blankness. As if experimental research on a Blood Lifer was just another day at the office. Maybe they were dissecting a bulbous headed alien in the cell next to mine, and I was nothing special at all.

  But somehow, I reckoned that this was all to do with Blood Life. Our venom: how it paralyzed, and how the military could use that to carve a crimson path in whatever war they pleased.

  Everyone reckons that it’s about defense, but there’ll always be terrorists. An enemy. Others.

  There’ll always be an excuse to fight like the beasts we are. Yet it’s needing an excuse, which raises us above the animals. None of us should kid ourselves though, First or Blood. We pretend that we want peace, when in fact our blood calls for war. We cherry pick the battles that we can win and then to be the victor we create the best warriors with the deadliest weapons.

  If any First Lifer stole the advantage of our venom, then they’d be conquerors of the world.

  All I knew, was that I couldn’t allow it to happen. I didn’t have a clue though — trussed up, gagged, and brutalized as I was — how I was going to stop it.

  I blinked the sweat out of my eyes. That was…nine increases now?

  I couldn’t help having a peek at the black box in Ivor’s hands, as his thin fingers turned the knobs: when the wires were attached around my bollocks for a spot of electro torture before bedtime, I was long past playing it cool.

  “Perfect: Subject One’s heart rate is significantly increased. Let’s see how loud the subject can screech. Level ten coming directly.”

  The hum leapt. Furious wasps all flying to fry my privates, except they weren’t so private anymore. My tender balls were out there: free to be shocked, thumped, and burnt.

  I shook from the stink of my own sweat, the agony that had swallowed me in searing waves, and the shuddering fear of level ten because Ivor loved to build the anticipation: until it struck, lightning bolt. A shock worse twice over because you couldn’t prepare.

  The tosser knew what he was doing.

  There was a low whine like a mutt. Then I realized that it was coming from me.

  Suddenly, cool fingers were on my brow, brushing back my hair. I forced myself to glance away from that black box…and level ten. Shah was — trying — to smile at me. This wavering little thing, as frightened as I felt.

  “We’ve proved the sensitivity of Subject One’s…of that part of a Blood Lifer’s anatomy surely by now?” Shah concentrated hard on the notes that she was scribbling on her clipboard. “I don’t think we need to…”

  I shrieked into the gag, whilst my fingers clawed at the arms of the medical table. My body bowed rigid. White hot searing agony: I recognized it from the tracker. Except, it’d never burnt me there.

  Not like this.

  I was floating. A crescendo of sparking agony with no end. Maybe this was how it was always meant to be. Sun rose before me on the clouds of the ceiling in her flint-speckled top, before casting it aside for an Alex Highbury-Lord suit as she transformed into a trader. Without me to hold her back, she became the family’s leader: powerful and ambitious. Will watched me through his sunshine curls in a halo of light with Trinity at his shoulder. He was no longer dragged into the da
rk with me, his false angel. Now he was left to live his mortal life, as I’d allowed Kathy to live hers.

  That’s when my tears finally fell.

  Dimmed, I could just make out panicked voices far below.

  “He’s not responding…”

  “Subject’s a cry-baby. If I give him another dose—”

  “Don’t you dare, Ivor.” Shah protectively cradled her arms around my chest.

  Ivor shook his head. Then he sulkily ripped the wires from around my bollocks like a kid denied his treat.

  And that sodding hurt.

  At last, Shah let go of me, straightening her lab coat. “Professor, I had no intention…”

  “Hush, no harm done, and it’s Ivor, remember?”

  Suddenly, there was movement down the beetle bronze corridor on the other side of the glass. Whilst my muscles were still cramping from the strain, my throat was still sore from screaming, and my balls still fizzed on fire. Two stony-faced soldiers dragged a small First Lifer between them. Caught still between the real and dream worlds, I let myself watch, as if it was all an illusion. Just another false future, except this time a nightmare one.

  Then, however, like a boot to the gut, all dreams were chased away because I saw that it was Will.

  Will’s arms had been wrenched behind him in handcuffs, but he was still struggling, even though his ankles were in shackles too. His eyes were puffy like he’d been bawling, but he wasn’t crying now. He was furious, struggling and trying to fight.

  Like I’d taught him.

  The brave — stupid — little git.

  Why the buggering hell did the military want some homeless kid?

  When the lead colossus gripped Will by the curls and cracked him across the jaw, the blood thundered through me in fury.

  That was e-bleeding-nough.

  I fought my chains. They cut, breaking the skin and purpling rainbow bruises. I howled and cursed, garbling around my gag. The cell was soundproofed, but when the lead soldier shoved Will, and he stumbled, Will glanced up, and our gazes met.

  At first, Will’s eyes widened with a mix of shock and hope. Just for a second. But then, I wished that he’d never seen me: naked, bound, and bleeding. Because then he did bawl, as the soldiers hauled him off down the darkness of the corridor, until he was lost to me.

  And I bawled too.

  I’d understood the despair. I was Will’s angel: I was meant to save him, but now he had no hope. If Will had been captured by these bastards, then I had no hope either.

  “What’s wrong? Is the subject hungry? Do we need...?” Shah was patting my arm, as if calming a baby.

  “Subject’s a bleeding cry-baby, I told you. Now I’m mad; this is not acceptable.” When Ivor snatched up his Blackberry, I didn’t notice his blathering.

  I couldn’t breathe through the waves of sobs, which were shuddering through me: impotent rage. My hands were fisting repeatedly against the plastic. Unable to fight, run, hunt, smash, boot, or bloody kill, all I could do was lie there and wail, like the kid Shah seemed to be pretending that I was.

  Then someone new opened and closed the door. A shadow was dark over me, then a laptop’s screen shunted in front of my face. Ghosted through my tears, it was blurred.

  “I told you that I’d have my vengeance, little man.” It was like being submerged in a bath of ice water. No more tears, struggling, or despair. Because this betrayal was a bitter path that I’d walked before. Now I knew the face of my destroyer? I was me again. I’d show Fernando just what Blood Lifer vengeance was all about. “What? No clever comeback? Where’s that witty sense of British irony now?” Fernando traced a casual finger along my gag. Bloody hell, how I wanted to take just one bite… Little man: that was Will, and a blasphemy on this tosser’s lips. Fernando laughed. “Whoa, don’t look like that. We had a deal. I get it, your end? Not so great, but the research is going to win us Nobels. You’ve no idea.”

  Except, I did, which was the sodding problem.

  “No talking to Subject One.” Ivor shoved Fernando’s hands, which were clutching the laptop, higher.

  Confused, I stared at the blank screen. Then it sprang to life.

  If I’d reckoned that I’d been in ice water before, then now I was in an ocean of it.

  Sun.

  She was strapped down naked like me to a medical table, in a cell that was identical to my own. She was motionless and silent without the need for a gag. Desperately, I inspected Sun, but she didn’t appear to have any injuries. She must’ve been injected and paralyzed: a living death. She was hooked up to a crimson IV circulating artificial life.

  Everything crumbled then: resistance, rage, and reality.

  These First Lifers had Will and Sun. There was nothing that they could do to me — nothing — that was worse. I’d promised and fought to keep them safe. My mind had fled through every torment to the cocooned hope of their better futures without me. But now that was smashed, and me along with it; there was nowhere left to hide.

  I shook as I raised my gaze to Fernando who was watching me hungrily.

  It was strange to meet a bloke, who I’d only ever seen over Skype. He was shorter than I’d expected and his white toothed grin was meaner close up.

  Yeah, he was no Mr Perfect.

  I realized something then, which I’d been a daft berk to miss: just how dangerous Fernando was. Because hell hath no fury like a geek scorned.

  “Subject One needs to know that Subject Two,” when Fernando tapped the screen, I jumped, as if he was actually touching Sun’s helpless body, “is also part of our research project. Come on, I’m a scientist. All experiments need controls. Professor here says that you’ve been acting like a chowderhead, so let me paint a picture. If you’re a good little man and play along with Mr Scientist here, then I’ll spend some quality time with the erstwhile Grayse Cain.” When Fernando wet his lips with his long tongue, I stiffened: decent bloke my arse. “If you don’t...?” He held my gaze as he snapped shut the laptop, cutting me off from Sun; I felt the loss keenly in every aching inch. “And instead choose to be a bad little man for Mr Scientist, then we’ll have to see if Sun can be a better girl than you in these tests, and there’s some wicked ones coming up, which involve the heart and pointy things. How the frak do you reckon she’d handle those?”

  Frantically, I shook my head.

  I’d be a good little man, even if it meant testing a stake to the heart, before I’d let them play one game of Research the Blood Lifer on Sun.

  Fernando tapped his chin. “Hey, I’m not convinced. How about—”

  “You’ve made your point,” Shah said coldly. “We have work to get on with.”

  “Sure thing, Ms Shah.” Fernando tucked the laptop under his arm, patted my head as if I was his pet, and strutted out of the lab.

  “Bellend,” Ivor muttered, shuffling his papers on the desk.

  I lay unmoving, staring at the painful white of the ceiling and remembering the image of Sun on her own examining table. She’d been a twin of me: naked, shackled, and still. Fernando was with her right now, whilst I was powerless to stop him. I might as well have had my fangs ripped out again.

  I was no leader, no Blood Lifer, and no man.

  And now, I had to play perfect research subject to mad scientist or risk Sun taking my place.

  Bugger it.

  I was dragged back to the reality of the cell by the pain of the gag being loosened, and then yanked out from between my teeth. I whimpered. Then I tested my jaw side to side; I’d never get used to that.

  I glanced up questioningly.

  “Subject will cooperate without the need for gagging,” Shah explained quietly, “because of—”

  “Threats to torture and kill the woman that I love?” I rasped.

  Shah reddened.

  Ivor was clattering objects onto a steel tray. I wasn’t going to look — I bloody wasn’t. Then he rolled it over to my side. This was like sodding Christmas to him.

  Slam.

&nbs
p; Without warning, Ivor slapped a silver crucifix across my chest, directly over the heart.

  I gasped from the cold. Then I only just held back the snigger. “I’m not a sodding vampire, mate.”

  Clatter — there went the crucifix.

  Slice.

  I hissed, staring down in shock.

  Ivor had carved right through my nipple.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have made the vampire dig.

  He flicked and… I howled.

  Bleeding hell: that had better grow back.

  Clatter — there went the scalpel.

  Then Ivor was pouring clear water… It wasn’t...?

  The wanker, of course it was.

  Ivor was pouring Holy Water over my abused nipple. What was he expecting? Bubbling blisters and steam?

  “Bollocks vampire myths…” I got out through gritted teeth.

  I saw a quirk of a smile from Shah, which was quickly hidden by her hand.

  Clatter — there went the empty bottle of Holy Water.

  Ivor examined me, in a way that made me want to scrub every inch. Then he carefully picked up a wand with a glass alien headed bulb in the middle and a sharp metal tip, like a giant needle. He was the picture of Doctor Frankenstein now.

  “Xenon-mercury short-arc lamp?” Shah asked nervously.

  “Sounds like a rubbish band name.” Then I worked out what Ivor intended to do with it and panicked. “Hang on a tick…”

  Bluish-white light burst a blinding path from the light bulb onto my gut. Artificial sun ejaculated in a ray, searing onto my skin.

  I hollered, as the skin melted under the sunlight.

  I’d burned in the sun before, but never concentrated like this and done slow. I hadn’t even realized that I was sobbing, until I tasted the saltiness on my lips.

  Snap — Frankenstein shut off the lamp. “Subject One do squall, don’t it? Interesting response: Blood Lifers do react to sunlight,” he leant over me, scrutinizing the burn: it was like being enfolded by a dusty spider, “like vampires.”

  My stomach muscles were shuddering with spasms. The burn danced in ripples of pain across my chest, until I trembled with it. My cheeks were wet, but I couldn’t wipe away the tear tracks.