A cold shiver crawled up his spine. You’re in danger, his instincts hissed. Atlas told himself to shut up and get moving. Since he knew most of the locals, Atlas was confident that if a new player was in town, someone would squawk about it. If they weren’t already, he thought. Too bad he didn’t have time to head down to one of the vampire-run casinos to find out.
Before Atlas headed over to Dr. Sage’s office, he stopped at a pawn shop to grab the good stuff: a handful of smoke bombs and a couple of explosives. Instead of paying the pawn shop owner, Atlas knocked the guy out and took his fair share of blood. Better safe than sorry, he thought as he strapped the grenades to his chest. He didn’t want to investigate on an empty stomach.
The ride on Fifteen was slow and full of traffic. Atlas did what he could to maneuver through the crawling cars, but his mind was elsewhere. He remembered a joke: the only good necromancer was a decapitated one. Atlas prayed that Doctor Sage was not a necromancer. The thought of someone else controlling his body forced his survival instincts to kick in. They told him he should hide in the desert and let someone else look for Gramps and Moira.
Atlas pushed his fears aside and tried to focus. Why was he always rescuing other vampires? Weren’t they supposed to be his competition?
He pulled off at the next exit and parked outside the building. A few of the windows were boarded up; the rest were covered with thick dust. The worn-out name on the front window―Las Vegas Cosmetic Center―confused him. Was this the right place? Atlas double-checked the address on the card and saw that it matched. Before he went inside, he scrutinized the building for occult symbols or signs of black magic but found nothing. For a split second, Atlas wondered if he should come back tomorrow. Unfortunately, a lot could happen in a single night.
‘Well, this’ll be fun.’
A small tornado of fur, teeth and claws bombarded him as soon as he stepped inside. The kittens weren’t strong enough to knock him down, but they did their best to annoy him. One of the kittens managed to get caught in his long, flowing hair. Another one stuck its claws into his pants leg and hung on. Atlas wanted to fling the kittens halfway across the room and run away. They made his skin crawl just by looking at them, but not one of them hissed. The fur balls had no idea he was a vampire.
‘You’re so cute!’ Atlas lied for the benefit of anyone who might have been listening. He was glad the catnip worked.
‘Come on kittens, time to eat.’ The kittens scampered toward a plain young woman holding several dishes of cat food. Atlas looked around for the other cat. Where there were kittens, the mama cat couldn’t be far behind.
‘I’ll be with you in a minute,’ the woman said to him.
‘No problem.’
A black cat jumped off the reception desk, stretched out on the stained carpeting and headed for its food. Making a quick sign of the cross, Atlas was relieved that the cat avoided him altogether. The irony of his religious gesture was not lost on him. Black cats were the worst: Atlas lost a lot of friends during the Trials because they were used to target witches and warlocks. Even to this day, they still gave him the creeps.
‘Hey, hope I’m not too late,’ Atlas quipped, trying like hell to keep his voice light. ‘I was just coming in for my appointment.’ He pointed to the pink scars that decorated his face.
The woman wore a faded calico sundress that matched her stringy yellow hair. For a moment, Atlas wondered if she was a necromancer. She didn’t look like she belonged in Las Vegas. Her hair wasn’t curled and she didn’t wear any jewelry.
‘You’re here for the free trial, right?’ Her voice sounded rough and bitter.
‘I guess so.’
‘Follow me,’ the woman said casually. She left the cat dishes by the door, forcing him to step over the hungry beasts. Walking briskly, they entered a modern room filled with shiny equipment and porcelain tiles. Although Atlas was a little apprehensive, he placed his faith in his reflexes and the explosives under his vest. If she so much as touched him, he’d have no problem detonating them.
‘Redecorating?’ he asked. He couldn’t help but wonder where Dr. Sage got his money from.
The woman turned her back and wiped down a patient’s chair. ‘Don’t worry. This will all be over soon.’
There was something about her that annoyed him, but Atlas couldn’t put his finger on what it was.
‘Well? You’re here for the trial, right? I bet you’re nervous.’
‘Yes,’ Atlas confessed. That was the most honest thing he had said all day.
Smiling, the woman scribbled on a broken clipboard and gestured for Atlas to lie down on the steel chair. The name on her tag—Martha—was as homely as her dress. ‘Nothing to be concerned about, I just need to measure your scars,’ she told him. Atlas knew he shouldn’t be afraid of this mortal, but he was. Two, very capable bloodstalkers were missing. What if she was Doctor Martha Sage?
Martha placed a warm hand on his forehead and smirked. Then, Atlas felt something sharp poke him in the side of his neck. Immediately, his senses dulled and an unfamiliar feeling washed over him. Was he drunk?
‘Well, at least you’re not another vampire.’ Atlas heard her say before he completely blacked out. ‘Nosy family member, I’m guessing.’
A few hours later, Atlas woke up on a table in a room filled with shambling mortals. Frustrated, he yanked the nearest human over to him and lightly bit into her arm. Black, watery blood leaked out of the holes.
‘Vampire blood,’ Atlas murmured. ‘Not good.’
Dr. Sage was experimenting on humans and vampires. Most likely, Carla’s bruises blossomed after Martha injected vampire blood into her veins. What was Dr. Sage after, anyway? That wasn’t the right way to turn a mortal into a bloodstalker. Atlas swallowed. He didn’t want to think about which vampire Martha used to toy with, but he sure as hell hoped it wasn’t someone he knew.
Grabbing a smoke bomb off his chest, Atlas bit the pin off and tossed it through the open doorway. The smoke camouflaged his movements as he snuck into the next room.
‘Jackpot.’
Six or seven bloodstalkers, including Gramps and Moira, had been tied up. Thin tubes were sticking out of their necks and arms. A clear fluid dribbled into the hoses from a plastic bag. Atlas snapped his fingers, but none of them responded. Somehow, Dr. Sage had managed to immobilize a vampire without using necromancy.
‘Worse than magic.’ Atlas spotted a few blood samples sitting on the counter and mulled his options. Once he disconnected the tubes, the vampires would need that blood before they regained consciousness. After that? They were on their own. There was plenty of human blood in the adjoining room. Although it was tainted, it would still do the trick. The resulting chaos would be a good distraction, but that might tip off Dr. Sage. Once things got messy, someone might call the cops.
His other option was to leave the bloodstalkers alone.
The choice should have been simple. Any other bloodstalker would have pursued the doctor and gutted him where he stood.
Atlas was not like other vampires.
After tossing a couple of samples at Gramps and Moira, he cut the tubes. Curious, he tasted the spouting liquid: it was pure formaldehyde. ‘Brought down by embalming fluid?’ Atlas thought. ‘I have to meet this guy.’
He cracked his knuckles and let his military training take over. ‘No time to waste.’
To give himself some cover, Atlas ran toward the fuse box at the far end of the hall. Martha stood in front of it, her arms folded across her small chest. ‘We have iron-clad proof vampires exist.’
‘Do you now?’ Atlas cracked her head against the wall and cut the power. He didn’t need artificial light to see in the dark.
Sprinting back down the hallway, Atlas ignored a cacophony of screams and headed for the stairs.
‘Atlas! Might I have a word?’ Atlas spun around when he heard the familiar voice.
Gramps was covered in black blood and bile. ‘You look terrible.’
‘Son
, you should really think about getting a divorce.’ Gramps regarded him with fury, contempt and sadness.
‘Why’s that?’
‘Your wife orchestrated this whole thing.’
‘Constance?’ Atlas folded his arms to stop himself from lifting Gramps up by his wrinkled throat. ‘You’re wrong.’
Gramps shrugged. ‘If I’m right, will you kill her?’
‘I’ve got plenty of firepower to send this place back to hell,’ Atlas lied. He took more smoke bombs than anything else. ‘Want to make sure Dr. Sage doesn’t escape.’
‘Sounds good to me. How can I help?’
Atlas flung Gramps the keys to his bike. ‘Take good care of her.’
‘That’s not the lady I’d be worrying about right now,’ Gramps warned him. ‘Either you take care of her, or Moira and I will.’
‘I work alone.’
‘Not this time, Atlas.’
‘Where is Moira, anyway?’
‘Feeding.’
‘Fine,’ Atlas said. He didn’t have time to argue and he knew Moira would want a little payback. ‘I could use some back up. This might get ugly.’
‘Consider it done.’
Blocking Constance’s face from his mind, Atlas raced up the stairs. Hallway fixtures crackled to life, bathing his leather-clad body in a warm, amber light. ‘Must be a backup generator,’ he thought. Determined to find Dr. Sage, he moved from office to office, but the rooms had been stripped clean. Where was he?
He poked his head into the last office and immediately dropped to his knees. ‘My Lady,’ Atlas moaned when he recognized his missing wife.
Constance had been mounted to a wall. Metal restraints bound her wrists and ankles. Someone had carefully peeled the flesh away from her bones and pinned the pink flaps behind her. Orange tubes filled with liquid had been forced into her veins and arteries.
The blood boiled in his body. Atlas tasted his rage. To save her, he had to save himself. What was he supposed to do now? Wait for Gramps and Moira?
Since he couldn’t take a deep breath, Atlas closed his eyes and counted to ten, but he couldn’t get the image of his tortured wife out of his mind. Dr. Sage had even cracked open her chest. Her heart―that precious, rotten, aching thing―was on display for the entire world to see.
Shaking, he approached Constance to see if she’d recognize him. Did she miss him? The closer he got to her, the less he wanted to see. Ribbons of precision-cut flesh hung loosely on her face. Her beauty, her terrible and renowned beauty, was no more.
‘No more!’ Atlas wailed and smashed his fist through the wall. A wet dot formed in his eye. The blood tear trickled down his face and collected in a deep scar.
‘I see you’re admiring my work.’
Atlas wondered if he was slipping. He hadn’t noticed anyone else walk into the room. Looking up, he saw a shock of purple hair through the heating vent. He was glad Moira was watching his back. Gramps must have known he’d get emotional.
‘Vampire blood is such a precious commodity for those in my line of work. Wouldn’t you agree?’
Atlas whirled around and roared at Dr. Sage. He felt his blood rising to the surface of his skin and knew he was moments away from convulsing, but Atlas didn’t care. Not when it came to her.
‘Might I remind you there are security cameras in every corner of this building? Evidence of your crimes against a prestigious plastic surgeon will no doubt be investigated. Isn’t that right, Mr. Atlas?’
‘How did you find her?’ he whispered hoarsely. Atlas dug his fingernails deep into his palms and regained his composure. Dr. Sage may have gotten the better of several vampires and mortals, but he was only four foot nine and three hundred pounds of human flesh. In this battle, Atlas was the superior opponent. He had better start acting like it, especially since Moira was watching.
‘Why, she was ravishing when we first met. It all started at the Palace when I asked her who did her nose…’ Dr. Sage’s words were charming, but Atlas wasn’t listening. His eyes darted around the room, quickly assessing his surroundings. Ancient swords hung on the wall. Stone tablets were piled up on the floor. The windows had been covered in meaningless sigils. Other than the door Atlas came in, there was no way Dr. Sage could escape. Not with two, possibly three, pissed-off bloodstalkers in the room.
‘Consider this a gift, Mr. Atlas,’ the doctor intoned, pointing to his wife. ‘She told me you’ve been apart for a long time.’
Atlas could not believe his ears. Who the hell was this guy? ‘That’s right. I haven’t seen her in decades.’
Dr. Sage took a deep bow. ‘Please, be my guest.’
‘What’s the catch?’ For a split second, Atlas wondered if Dr. Sage was any good at playing poker. He was pretty calm and collected for an evil bastard.
‘You will agree to turn me into a vampire at a time and place of my choosing.’
‘Is that what all this is about? Injecting vampire blood and dissecting my wife?’
‘Why, of course not! My immortality is only one part of my plan.’
Atlas feigned interest. ‘Give me the short version.’
‘Extract the cure for aging from a vampire’s blood and become the richest man in the world.’
‘That’s all?’ Atlas laughed bitterly. ‘Inventive.’
‘You could be the second richest vampire, Mr. Atlas. All you have to do is kill this creature.’
Plucking a broadsword off a display, Atlas pretended to test its sharpness by slicing his hand on the blade. Then, he touched Constance’s heart with the bloody sword. ‘We’ll kill her together.’
Dr. Sage clapped his hands. ‘Oh yes! Let’s.’
‘Like this?’ Atlas slashed every tube connected to her body. Pungent liquid sprayed in all directions, covering them in formaldehyde. After slicing through her restraints, Atlas pivoted and faced Dr. Sage.
‘I’m not alone, Dr. Sage.’
Beads of sweat formed on Dr. Sage’s forehead. ‘You’re lying.’
‘Is he now?’ A familiar voice asked. Atlas turned around and laughed. Gramps had grabbed an IV stand and was brandishing it like a weapon.
‘What is this all about? Vampires don’t know the meaning of the word “teamwork”. You’re a selfish, blood-thirsty lot.’
‘Did someone say “blood”?’ a female voice purred. Her lusterless corpse had evaporated into a roiling fog. It blanketed Dr. Sage’s body with ease.
Atlas kept his head level. He should have been the one to find her, not this asshole. To shield himself from his despair, Atlas whispered a few simple words. ‘I live to serve, my Queen.’
Ignoring Atlas completely, Constance focused all her attention on Dr. Sage.
‘I thought you could take care of yourself.’ Atlas couldn’t pinpoint his exact emotion, but he was relieved Gramps was here to meet her. Constance would never allow herself to be tortured just to trap other vampires. She had too much pride, a sign of her royal upbringing.
‘Shall we dance?’ Constance manifested into her human form and dropped Dr. Sage’s body. Much to his surprise, she wore a black gown. She hated black. Or, at least she used to, he thought. He couldn’t help but wonder what else about her had changed.
‘Nice dress.’
She kicked Dr. Sage’s bloodless corpse and laughed. ‘He would have made a good vampire. I’m surprised you didn’t turn him yourself.’
‘I haven’t turned anyone for a long time.’ Atlas kept the conversation light. She always was a good listener.
‘Too bad.’ Constance bared her fangs, reminding him she was still dangerous.
Gramps broke the tension between them. ‘Time to break up this reunion, Atlas.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ he asked, grabbing a pipe bomb out of his vest. There was no way he was going to kill his wife. Not now, not ever.
‘Constance set this up. We overheard the whole thing.’
‘Who? You and Moira?’
‘No. Carla.’
Constance glide
d over to him and stared into his eyes with contempt. ‘Just how many women do you have, Atlas?’
‘Later.’ Atlas bowed his head and lit the bomb’s fuse. Something didn’t feel right. If he didn’t know any better, Dr. Sage was still holding all the cards.
‘Ten seconds, everyone,’ he bluffed, pointing to his watch. They had about a minute before the bomb really went off. ‘Gramps, you had better get moving.’
‘I’m not leaving until she does,’ Gramps protested. ‘I’m telling you, Atlas, she orchestrated everything.’
Atlas shook his head and pointed to his watch. ‘Get going, Constance.’
Constance blew him a kiss and tossed her waist-length hair over her bare shoulder. The playful gesture threw him for a loop. Knowing her, she would be angry with him for her capture. She’d probably accuse him of letting down his guard and would threaten to expose his real name.
By the time Atlas forced himself back into the present, the woman was gone.
‘Wait!’ Atlas shouted. ‘That’s it. That wasn’t Constance.’
‘We’ve got your back,’ Gramps said. ‘Moira will catch her.’
Lurching forward, Atlas recovered the bomb, stuffed it down Dr. Sage’s shirt and berated himself for his stupidity. What was wrong with him? After centuries together, he knew his wife inside and out. She would never dance with a corpse or pass up the opportunity to turn a willing mortal. That only meant one thing: Dr. Sage was after him.
Furious, Atlas grabbed the sword and beheaded the doctor in one, fluid motion. The impact of the sword sent the head flying; blood seeped from the wound. Shaking his head in disbelief, Atlas double-checked his watch.
Fifteen seconds.
‘Damn.’ Although he wanted to find out who the woman was, he dropped the sword and transformed his body into a fluttering mound of bats.
Seven seconds.
Escaping through the open window, Atlas half-hoped the bomb was a dud. He needed more time.
Three.
Was that man really Dr. Sage? If that wasn’t Constance, who was it?
Two.
Atlas braced himself. No more time for questions.
The New Hero: Volume 1 Page 18