I am Vlad Kurval, progeny of Vlad Dracul. I am the ruiner of land. I am a plague. I am a pestilence on mankind.
I had returned to sow the seeds of sorrow and waste among the firmament of Earth.
“Kneel before me weak and powerless vermin. You are but cattle to me and I will taste of your…”
“Woo! Team Tyler! Go Vamp or go home!”
The young female dared cross my path and not revere me or kneel in abject terror. Instead she held her hand aloft, bearing a haughty pagan gesture with her finger and laughed.
“Trick or mother fuckin’ treat, Count Chocula.”
The male escort accompanying the wench shouted over his shoulder.
Somehow I had missed the crowd of people around me, standing in line. Were they waiting for slaughter? Judging from their light colored auras, if they were being lead to the slaughter, they were completely unaware. Such a shame to waste fear and horror with ignorance.
Above the heads of the crowed, in brilliantly lit letters, was Nightfall. Below the letters was a perfectly rendered portrait of what looked like two lovers in thrall. Only…only…the male was…
Vampire.
This could not be. When I was put to earth, I was the only one of my kind. Now, now I must contend with an overly coiffed, made up, fop laying claim to fangs.
“Go Team Tyler!”
Another young girl spouted the same nonsense. I grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her to me.
“Who is this Tyler?” My spell took hold immediately.
“V-Vampire. In the movie.” Her voice was distant, powerless as she pointed toward the portrait in the spotlight.
“Take me to Tyler immediately.”
I released my grip on the girl. She turned toward the building, and began to walk. As I followed, the other scraplings yelled in some misbegotten anger.
“Fucking cutter!”
“Where do you think you’re going jerk face?”
“Look at the loser in the cape.”
Careful children, lest I lose my temper.
“Tickets please.” The man behind the glass demanded.
My stare needed no voice to back up the spell. The young man silently waved us on, into the building and insisted we “Enjoy the movie”.
Once inside, the smells and the sounds were caustic. The voices were too young, too shrill. Young ladies, who should have had more self-respect than to parade themselves around in such little attire, bounced about as if they were nothing more than piglets on their way to the meat house. There were select few in the crowd paying homage to the vampire in overly done make up and false fangs. Had I not been intent on finding this ‘Tyler’ I would have paused to rip the teeth from the masqueraders and introduce them to the truth.
My young ward opened a set of doors and beckoned me inside. The room was dark so my heightened sense of sight kicked in to reveal a massive crowd of humans awaiting their fate. This ‘Tyler’ must wield significant power to have enthralled so many at once. My lady offered me a seat. I was to sit among the cattle and wait for this vampire? Blasphemy.
I stood. I waited.
“Look at that guy Marissa. What a douche. Who does he think he is?” The whisper was easily heard.
When I turned toward the sound, two of the frailer girls, clad in what looked like nothing more than their undergarments, pointed in my direction and laughed. Had I not been so eager to meet this unknown vampire, I would have gladly dismembered the youngsters and sucked the blood from their limbs. Youth is so delicious when innocent. Although, looking at the crowd, I had to wonder how much innocence was actually intact.
Before another thought could grace my mind, one wall of the room lit up like the sun and the most incredible, brilliant, moving and speaking images appeared. This was powerful magic. Could it be possible a vampire more powerful than myself was alive? It had never been, nor had I thought it to ever be.
“Tyler , I love you!” One of the girls shouted above the din of the overly-loud music.
“Team Lindle!” A young male voice rose above the crowd.
“Fag!” was the reply. Gales of laughter followed.
On the lit wall, the face of the man in the portrait appeared. Tears of blood streamed down his cheeks as he spoke.
I love you Elizabeth. I can’t live without you.
The larger than life vampire began to shimmer, sparkle. Members of the audience started screaming and weeping.
Take me Tyler. Make me one of you.
A doe-eyed girl with pouty lips and the curves of a young male servant spoke, her eyes overflowing with sadness.
Elizabeth, you know I can’t. I have never fed on a human and I won’t start now.
What? Never fed on a human? How could this be? Before I realized what was happening, my feet had carried me down to the front of the room, where the faces of the two lovers were within reach.
“Hey, Old School McGhoul, down in front!”
“Yeah, get your dusty cape out of the way!”
The voices rang out from the crowd. My patience with these mortals had run its course. I turned to address the masses.
“How dare you. I am Vlad Kurval and you will bow down and offer up your lives to me!” My voice cracked with rage.
“Get the fuck out, Count Doucheula!”
The time had come. Without a word, I pointed to one of the young females seated nearest me and drew her near with a single finger.
“Give yourself to me.” I whispered.
The young girl tilted her head so that I could feed. I indulged. With the first blood out of the way, I could drain the girl of her very life.
This had been apart from the usual ways of the vampire. The lineage of Vlad Tepes refused his progeny the gift of draining the lives of man. My maker, Vlad Dracul, saw to it his lineage broke free from the bonds Vlad Tepes had defined for our kind. Although Dracula was our God, he was a God all too kind for our kind. We were the bringers of death, not mercy.
The task of draining the young miscreant took but a brief moment and the girl dropped to the floor, her life expired. With the complete draining of a human life came the succulent after-effect of the victim’s soul becoming one with mine. From this act, I would grow even more powerful.
“Awesome!”
“I didn’t know they brought in an actor to do this.”
“The guy’s gay…he’s probably like forty years old!”
“He’s kinda hot.”
More whispers poured from the crowed. My finger beckoned another youngster to meet the same fate. The voices behind me interrupted my spell.
Tyler, the sun! Can’t it hurt you?
No, that’s only a myth. This shimmering aura will protect me.
I shut out the sound of the voices behind me and returned my complete attention to the crowd. “Take me to this Tyler! I command you!” I roared above the din.
“You’re staring right at him, ass hat!”
I stood between a mockery of my kind and a mockery of mankind.
“I am to be feared!” My voice shook the walls.
My words were met with laughter. My next actions would not. I beckoned a male to me. The laughter from the crowd rose. This would all end soon. I gestured the boy to kneel before me. When he did the laughter rose to a distorted level.
“Suck him!” A female voice rose above the laughter.
“Your life ends now young man.” I whispered to the boy, hoping the words would make it through to his conscious mind. When the tears began flowing down his cheeks, I knew he comprehended what was to happen. His jaw quivered. The smell of his fear rose up to greet me, overpowering the horrendous stench of perfumes and hormones.
The young man’s head ripped off with ease. Blood sprayed the nearest voyeurs.
And with a single act, my power over the human race had returned. Shrieks and screams filled the room. In front of me, the children scrambled to exit the room. Bodies were being pushed, trampled, broken—all in a vain attempt to save what little life they actua
lly claimed as their own. Those lives would end soon. I would find each and every mouth that dared mock me.
“What the fuck are you doing dickwad?”
A young male, his chest puffed in a pathetic display of strength, approached me.
“Whatever I want.” I laughed and punched my fist through the man’s chest as if it were no more than a stomach of rotting haggis. My arm raised aloft, the man slid down so that I could sink my teeth into his neck and drain the remaining blood from his now-still heart.
The screams reached a new fevered pitch. I tossed off the dead body and sprayed blood over the scrambling rats. One of the elder females in the young group attempted to sneak out of the room. Her dress came off with nothing more than a thought. I could have her here and now, but that would give the others the false impression that there was any sort of pleasure to be found. There was none. Instead I tore the girl’s arms from her body and then tossed the blood-spraying limbs over the crowd.
Another insolent whelp attempted to run by. I was growing bored of their childish fear. I grabbed the boy by the head and caved in his skull with a single squeeze. As I licked the gray matter and other bits of gore from my fingers, the sounds of the vampire behind me begged for my attention.
Tyler, let’s run away. We can be together forever.
Elizabeth, I don’t want to be what I am any longer. I want to be like you. I want to be human.
I turned to meet the glowing, shimmering, sparkly vampire.
“And you, Tyler, I will find you; and when I do your suffering will be spoken of for ages. You have laid shame to the Vampire and you will atone for such treachery.”
Music began playing on the screen as Tyler and Elizabeth embraced. When I exited the room there were broken bodies on the floor and the distant echo of fearful screams making music in the night sky.
Alex was still waiting for me. I would keep him alive, to act as my servant, until I found this Tyler. I re-entered the metallic beast and demanded Alex drive onward. The youth’s head snapped up, his hands grabbed the wheel, and his eyes opened.
“Where to master?”
“Take me to Tyler.” I spoke with the air of confidence I had been so accustomed to all throughout my undead life.
“Yes master.”
The metal monster tore off into the night, beams of sun shot from the front end of the beast. I would have my vengeance, not on the King’s Mage, but on the entirety of humankind, the vile creature that gave birth to the man that put my fiery soul in the ground for centuries.
A smile graced my lips, lips that have once again tasted the tang of man.
I have returned.
* * *
Check out Jack’s other work:
I Zombie I
A Blade Away
Gothica
Shero
Jack Wallen was born alongside the great pumpkin in a patch called Midian. He knew at that very moment he was destined to be the King of Zombies.
Get Jack’d
Ralphie, the ‘Special’ Werewolf
P.J. Jones
This story is dedicated to Scooby. I miss you, little buddy.
Also, I’d like to extend a big THANKS to my badass pack, Shéa, Heather, Alan, Jack, Michael, Talia, Lizzy and Julia for inviting me into their wolf-den.
Raphael circled his prey.
The victim, a soft and pliant, raven-haired beauty, lie motionless, her wantonly limbs spread out like a feast before him.
Earlier, she’d tried in vain to resist him, but she’d easily succumbed to Raphael’s raw strength. He’d only used a fraction of his power to take her down. And now he prepared to make her feel the wrath of his awesome animal prowess.
He crossed the threshold of the chamber, and in once fluid motion, had the wench pinned beneath him. He laughed menacingly under his breath, as he smoothed one extended claw down the welcoming contour of her velvety smooth skin. He momentarily thought about shifting to human form.
But no.
She had called him a monster and a beast.
A mongrel.
Now he would teach the serpent-tongued wench a swift and brutal lesson.
Let her writhe and moan against the animal that he was until she begged for mercy…and release. For even when Raphael was in animal form, no woman could resist the reckless and wild abandon of his lovemaking.
Arching his neck, he let out a primal howl before he cocked his hips and slammed into her with a jarring thrust.
“Ralphie! Quit humping the sofa cushion and get over here!”
Raphie looked up to see Alpha glaring at him through hooded eyes.
Damn. Couldn’t a wolf get a moment to himself?
Whimpering, he snatched up the black velvet pillow with his teeth and tossed it on the couch. Growling under his breath, he warned the wench to wait for his return and make no attempt to flee or suffer his wrath.
He trotted over to his pack, ignoring the jeers and snickers as he sat on the outskirts of their small circle. Alpha had called together a secret meeting in their mystical wolf den, otherwise known as the split level basement of Alpha’s parents’ modest suburban home, located in the heart of the mysterious and ancient city of Tacoma, Washington.
“Good goin’, Ralphie!” Buster, the number two dominant male of their pack, snarled from across the circle, before he paused to frantically gnaw a hot spot on his tailbone. He turned his menacing glare back to Ralphie while spitting out a chunk of brown fur. “That’s the third sofa cushion you’ve crusted this week.”
“I didn’t crust this one,” Ralphie spat. Of all the wolves in his pack, he liked Buster the least. That mutt was always tormenting him. And unfortunately, he and Buster were both interning at the same discount shoe warehouse. More than once, he’d mocked him in front of their co-workers. He’d never get hired on full-time if one of his own pack members couldn’t show him respect.
Buster flashed a sarcastic snarl before his malevolent gaze settled on the sofa. “Maybe later I’ll have a go at her.”
Heat infused Ralphie’s face as the instinct to defend his prize surged red hot anger through his skull. He rose to all fours and growled. “She’s mine!”
“Enough!” A hush fell about the room as Alpha’s booming voice shook the air. He leveled each of the wolves a challenging glare before settling on his throne, his mom’s hand-me-down, rattan rocking chair with thickly padded floral cushions.
Buster circled around the group until he was seated at Alpha’s helm. He shot Ralphie a smug look, reminding the lesser dog that he was only one floral cushion away from becoming leader of the pack.
“Wolf brothers.” Alpha straightened his spine and held his snowy white head in a regal manner while using his front paw to steadily rock his throne. “I’ve called this meeting tonight to discuss a few concerns.”
Ralphie shifted, uncomfortably aware that every eye in the room had settled on him. He focused his gaze on his furry black paws, knowing if he pretended to play invisible, they’d lose interest and ignore him.
When Alpha cleared his throat, Ralphie, and thankfully, the others, quickly gave the top dog their undivided attention.
“You all remember,” Alpha continued, “that last week my mom said we can’t meet in her basement anymore if we keep pissing on her carpet.” Alpha’s gaze shot to the corner of the room. “Skippy!” he barked.
The rest of the pack turned their heads in time to see a scraggly tan wolf lowering his hind leg, a trail of piss clearly running down the side of the white wicker coffee table.
“Sorry, Alpha,” Skippy whined. “I forgot.”
Alpha rolled his pale eyes. “Go get some disinfectant and clean that up before my mom finds out.” Then, Alpha turned his angry glare on a plump grey wolf sitting in front of Ralphie. “Patches, Dr. Baker called and said you bit him when he tried to give you a rabies vaccine.”
Patches hung his head. “I hate needles.”
“Don’t. Do it. Again.” Alpha’s harsh, unwavering voice left no room
for disobedience.
“Y-yes, Alpha,” Patches whimpered.
“As you all know,” Alpha said, “tomorrow night the moon will be full.”
At the promise of a full moon, every wolf in the room howled in anticipation.
“You also know,” Alpha lowered his voice, his tone becoming more somber, serious. “Tomorrow is Halloween night.”
The wolves growled.
Though other immortals and ghouls celebrated Halloween as a night of demonic mayhem and depravity, werewolves loathed Halloween. That was the night they usually got their asses kicked.
“The vampires and zombies will be out in full force and up to their old tricks,” Alpha warned. “If they try to cause any trouble, you know the drill.”
“Snarl, bite, then run from the fight,” the wolves collectively chanted.
“That’s right,” Alpha nodded. “Zombies can crush us with one fatal blow. And vampires.” Alpha shuddered as all of the fur along his spine stood up on end. “They get laid way more often than us, so they must be pretty badass. Get away from them as fast as you can, and whatever you do, don’t lead them to our den! If they find out where we live, we’ll all be roadkill,” he ended on a shrill whine.
Alpha’s palpable fear jumped off his fur in erratic currents, startling Ralphie all the way down to the marrow in his bones. He hated Halloween. He didn’t know which was worse, the monsters or the mortals. Every year without fail, some little shithead mortal kid played a Trick-or-Treat prank on him. He couldn’t help it that he didn’t have the money for candy. He couldn’t even afford to buy sofa cushions, so he was forced to do all his humping at Alpha’s house. Even if he did have the money for candy, he’d be damned if was going to give it all away to stupid mortal brats.
“And for our last order of business,” Alpha groaned. “It seems a member of our pack has developed a taste for pillow fantasies.”
Once again, all eyes of the pack settled on Ralphie.
The Halloween Collection Page 7