CH. 3
SETTLEMENT AND
THE UNSETTLING
DUBAI, UNITED ARAB EMIRATES, May 27th, 2018, 7:28 P.M.
The night was clear, hot and sticky, with desert air breezes that felt like a blow-dryer was turned on.
A black luxury sedan pulled up on a private tarmac a half mile from the main landing strip of DXB airport. A man sat in the driver’s seat, he had rich chocolate skin, small features, clean dreadlocks pulled half up half down, wore a pinstripe Armani suit and black loafers. He was tall and thin, well postured, and smelt of patchouli. The passenger door opened, and the rider, accompanied by two other men, one younger, and one older, stepped into the low clearance of the vehicle, inhaling the new car smell and enjoying the refreshing AC. The two men in the back stayed silent for the whole ride, and remained calm, with pistols holstered at their sides.
The two men in the front exchanged handshakes.
“Pleased to see you again Malakae,”
“Stefan, I hope Dubai’s heat hasn’t been too unpleasant for you,”
“I’m not here for pleasantries Malakae. Let’s get down to whatever business you choose to be so enigmatic about.”
“Well, you never fail to be the same somber and moody vampire I’ve always known. It must be run in your family. Who are the two men you brought with you? You didn’t tell me you were bringing guests.”
The young male shook his head at Malakae, his blue eyes squinting briefly.
“You don’t know a thing about me. Stop with the stupidities. The men in the back are my partners, Vittorio Celentano, and Marc Mocanu. We’re known as the Supernatural Unit, and you requested us, if you can remember correctly.”
“Ah, so the prince became a cop. Never would’ve imagined a murderer enforcing the law on other murderers” Malakae protested, in his African accent.
“Yes, well at least I don’t drink human blood without consent,” Stefan said, lighting a cigarette after.
“You’re still a murderer by any other name, you are no better than the rest of us. A blood drinker is a blood drinker. Whether the people you kill are good or bad by your determination, you’re still taking life,” Malakae spoke as he drove, getting onto the main freeway.
“You don’t lie. Yours might be next,” Stefan casually threatened Malakae. Vittorio, the older, attractive man in the back, cocked his gun and aimed it at Malakae, in case he tried to start any quarrels or funny business.
The city lights ahead glistened and illuminated the skyline. It was an electric megapolis of glass, diamond and gold. The rest of the car ride was silent and tense, as the vampire “Stefan” had no earthly desire to be here. Instead, he couldn’t keep his wandering mind off the mysterious woman in Bucharest he’d ran into a few days back. He kept a picture he took of her, unbeknownst to her, in his phone. He looked at the picture eternally and compared it to a photo inside of a small gold locket he kept tucked inside his dress shirt. The two different women in both pictures were strikingly similar in features and their makeup. The difference was that the young woman in Bucharest had shorter hair than the one in the locket. Yet the woman in Bucharest provoked the same heart-wrenching nostalgia in his heart from the moment he saw her, so he couldn’t help but to follow her silently. Such was the desire to protect her, as badly as was his pain he felt, wanting to taste her blood. He wanted to be back in Romania already.
“Is that your girlfriend? I bet you must be possessive, she is a pretty one,” stated Malakae, unwaveringly casual at the threatening composure of Stefan and his detective comrades.
“Mind your business,” Stefan hissed.
“The moodiness must be a half-breed thing” Malakae added, gesturing cynically at the fact that Stefan was in fact, half-vampire, stronger than his regular undead counterparts, but still not immune to daylight. The other one hissed at him, and his eyes glowed red with anger.
“A blood drinker is a blood drinker, do you wish to test that theory?”
Malakae laughed nervously and kept driving. He tuned out the tension and blasted “Sabotage” by the Beastie Boys on the Harman-Kardon Bluetooth stereo system.
“You should really lighten up, Enttu,”
Stefan sideways glanced at Malakae and burned him within his angry stare, when his frenemy called him by this name. For the sake of his comrades, he brushed it off, looking out his window at the sand dunes, finishing the last drags of his cigarette.
“Don’t be darkened. My sister wants to meet you, she will be at the soiree tonight,”
“Oh, is that so? Is that an offer for us to be in laws?” Stefan joked, the edge finally wearing off.
Malakae was not too amused.
“Don’t get too pompous now, just because you’re royalty everywhere you go,”
Stefan laughed it off, overly confident as always, in his all black Dior tuxedo, and snakeskin Valentino dress shoes. He smelt heavily of Giorgio Armani cologne, his signature platinum mane waving freely. For no reason, he also wore a matching cape which was a bit outdated for the new millennium but nevertheless stylish. Vampires really did enjoy luxury when and where they could find it. His friends in the back were both in black tuxedos and carried their concealed weapons in their dapper attire.
The car pulled up to a giant lobby of a showcase of exotic sports cars parked neatly side by side, and many beautiful women that looked like auto show models pranced around the vehicles in bedazzled dresses and heels. Outside there were drag races and a car show, human civilians dressed extravagantly from head to toe, cheetahs on leashes, men breathing fire, women in traditional harem attire. Inside the building, the first three floors were nothing but pulsating dance clubs, but Malakae led the three men into the elevator all the way to the 56th floor, into an outdoor pool party, where more human women in small bikinis and male models hung out, pouring drinks and smoking hookah. At the end of a walkway between two pools, there was a petite African woman with a small halo of an afro, wearing a form fitting red leather dress, diamond sandals, and a leopard fur stole. She got up to hug and kiss Malakae on the cheek.
“Malakae, we’ve been expecting you!” the woman happily exclaimed.
Stefan was, as usual, taken aback by her beauty, the rich dark skin, the almond shaped eyes, the long lean thighs, and found himself staring at her breasts before the woman extended out her hand to him. She was probably the most pleasant thing out of this entire trip, and an old acquaintance he was glad to meet again.
She extended out her delicate black, neatly manicured hand to him. Her nails were stiletto shaped and lacquered with blood red enamel. Her fangs extended past the straight line of her pearly white smile.
“Enttu, we meet again,”
Being called by this name by anyone other than his comrades made him uneasy, but when they met over a century ago, it’s the name he went by, and sometimes still did by those he deeply cared about. He smiled back at her.
“Bennett had really exquisite taste in women,” he stated, eyeing her lustfully.
“I’d sleep with you if you and I weren’t mourning widows. Besides, lately, I fancy women more,” she replied.
The blonde dhampir was egged on by his comrades, who were throwing some obscene remarks under their breath. He concealed his laughter behind his fangs.
“Before we get too carried away, Enttu and company, let’s remember what we’re here for, since your half-vampire friend insists on sticking to strictly business. Let’s get some drinks before I show you three to the private conference room. We have all types of alcohol, and fresh, cold blood on ice at the bar. There are appetizers for the humans, who are appetizers for us!” Malakae laughed, him being the only one who laughed at his own joke.
Mawu stood against a wall with her heel planted against it, while Enttu stared at him with a darkened expression, arms extended protectively over his detectives standing behind him.
“Three B
loody Mary’s” ordered the dhampir, without a budge of a smile. His expressionless, moody character, signature of him, had returned him to normalcy.
The three men of the Bucharest Police’s Supernatural Unit glided in unison suavely, with drinks in their hands, each glass decorated with olives on tiny plastic swords. They clanked their glasses together, and walked side by side, with Enttu in between Vittorio and Marc, looking like mobsters about to have a showdown. Ahead of them, Malakae and Mawu, the African vampires, led the way deep down into a lower level of the hotel-turned-nightclub. They walked past large walk-in freezers and rows and rows of frozen pigs hanging upside-down. It reeked of old consumables and produce that had been stricken with freezer burn, and the metallic smell of cold blood permeated the air. Marc, the younger detective, almost gagged, and had to cover his mouth to prevent from vomiting his mixed drink.
“You’re serving pig’s blood Malakae?” Enttu inquired, in unimpressed disbelief.
“Well, I knew you were coming, I wouldn’t want to disappoint you as it would probably lessen the chances of your approval for my request,” Malakae replied.
Once they cleared the frozen section, they went down one more flight of stairs that led into a narrow, low-clearance corridor, and at the bottom was a heavy silver door, with a red-light fixture above it. It was a passcode-guarded door, to which Malakae knew the combination. The party went on in, one by one, into an elegantly furnished bunker, with sophisticated electronics and lighting to make it comfortable. The floor was made of white glimmering marble, and the dim lighting came from circular fixtures mounted into the ceiling.
The walls were painted a dark royal blue, and there were blue velvet chaises where they took a seat, around a crouching tiger glass table on a large Persian rug. The detectives took a seat together across the way from the African vampires, and then the exchange of dialogue and business began.
“Cut to the chase,” Enttu said sharply, his words cutting the tranquil smoothness of the ambient like a knife. He was surprisingly harsh when he wanted to get his way, his soft appearance ever deceiving his dry and arrogant character. His blonde hair covered one half of his alabaster face as he bored into Malakae. They weren’t close friends, though Malakae would have liked to think they were.
“So, you know about the Temple of Sekhmet being destroyed. It was bombed by Narciso and some little Dragul helper he always has with him,” Malakae elucidated, and much to his pleasant surprise, he got the dhampir to change his tune and perk his ears attentively.
“You just said the Temple of Sekhmet. How? And did were you there when it happened?”
“As soon as we saw them, they shot nightshade arrows at us and we were both hit and passed out. We awoke under the rubble, surprised we weren’t crushed to death or blown to bits. It’s been broadcasted in local Egyptian news. I am surprised you haven’t heard yet,” Mawu said, sipping from a glass full of cold pig blood. She made a face, as if the taste was rather disgusting, and set the glass down on the transparent glass table over the golden crouching tiger.
“No, I haven’t heard a thing. We’ve been so busy in Bucharest with the crime and disappearances rising back on the streets again. I am really sorry for your loss,” Enttu said, genuinely sharing his condolences.
“So, we need your help catching Narciso and confronting the Dragul. He is our common enemy after all,” stated Malakae, pushing back a dreadlock behind the collar of his sport jacket. His fangs touched his lips, awaiting the dhampir’s response.
“No can do, Malakae. You too, are a vampire. You seem to have a pretty good army of them dancing themselves silly in this hotel. Why can’t you utilize the vampires that are here? I’m not going to risk the lives of my men because you can’t delegate,” he replied, much to Malakae’s chagrin. Mawu and her brother squinted at him and his comrades, and then looked at each other, telepathically conveying messages to one another, that the dhampir couldn’t pick up on. He was growing increasingly vexed and clenched his fist.
“What if we offer you something nice in return? Something that will always remind you the most……of…. Nayeru?” Mawu cajoled sweetly. Her lips formed a heart as the name of his deceased wife left her lips.
“Come,” she told the detectives, and she led the trio toward the back of the bunker, where there was a figure draped with a thick black fabric.
“You best not be fucking around,” an annoyed Enttu seethed through gritted teeth.
His anger visibly colored his cheeks a faint pink, and he felt himself becoming humanly warm, a physiological reaction to strong emotions. The last thing he ever did tolerate from anyone, especially a vampire that was once associated with the Dragul coven, was the mere mention of his wife. He couldn’t shake off that they had some trick up their sleeve.
Mawu smiled, her fingers grasping at the fabric, before she draped it off in one swift, graceful swipe. Behind the fabric, there was a black coffin, and she undid the three large buckles, and then swung it open. Inside the coffin was a beautiful woman with long black hair, red lips, and amber skin, wearing a long black and red satin gown with a black lace bustier. Upon the sight of her, Enttu began to tremble, and felt his lips quivering with the intense emotional rush.
“Listen Stefan, that isn’t real, that is a wax figure,” Vittorio whispered, by his side. When Vittorio did a quick glance at his partner, he almost suffered cardiac arrest when he saw that the dhampir was in combat mode. His eyes were glowing blood red, his nails had extended into long black claws, and his upper and lower fangs had elongated. The demonic side of Enttu took over, and when he spoke, he spoke with the voice of one thousand demons. A blue aura around him became visible behind and around him like, a dark cobalt cloud.
“You really tried to bribe me with a wax figure? Do you have a desire to renounce your immortality? Because I’m ready to kill you!” he growled at the siblings. It was a sticky situation because of his human comrades, and their definite weakness against the undead.
Mawu didn’t understand what he was so livid about, and Malakae stood beside her with his arms crossed, unbothered by the raging dhampir who had drawn out a wooden stake. Mawu walked up to him and breathed in his face. An enchanting lavender breeze from her lips calmed him down, and the demonic effect had begun to wear off. He was still panting heavily, still very upset.
“There is no need for violence, Enttu. You could also just say no, which we half-expected you to. It just shows us your true colors,”
He scoffed at her last remark. “Ha! Don’t make me laugh, this is coming from the same vampires who tried to kill me back in the 80’s. I don’t forget. And perhaps you’re right, violence isn’t needed here,” he said, suspiciously too sweet in his intonation. He then forcefully grabbed Mawu, and passionately pressed his lips onto hers, digging a single claw into her neck. When he broke free from the kiss, she fainted in his arms, and then he let her drop to the floor.
“I dip my nails in nightshade as well, but just the tips,” he sneered, staring at her comatose, but still living body on the ground, “she’ll be fine Malakae, give it twelve hours to wear off. She’ll awaken on her own,”
Malakae ran and knelt beside his sister to check if she was okay and was relieved when he could hear her heart beating. Naturally, she was cool to the touch. Her wound on her neck had started to heal itself. When he looked up, the dhampir and his friends had disappeared in the blink of an eye. He left her down here and then ran up in frantic search of them, more confused than angry at their hostile attitudes. Their behavior left him with no option, and soon, he summoned his mascot from the underworld.
“ANUBIS! AFTER THE SELENIAN!”
The three detectives ran together and had just cleared the reefer area where the corpses of frozen pigs dangled upside down, and the rush of adrenaline was peaking satisfaction at their successful escape. They though too quick and halted their exodus when they were confronted by a seven-foot-tall black we
rewolf-dog mix beast before they reached the elevator.
“Wh….what the hell is that thing?!” exclaimed a frightened Marc, barely managing to jiggle his weapon out of his holster.
Without warning, Vittorio unloaded a full clip of .45 ammo into the broad, muscular and furry black chest of the creature, and it growled in pain, revealing a snout full of pointy, dirty teeth. Enttu pulled out a katana he had holstered in a leather sheath and wielded the blade between him and the creature. He motioned with his hands to momentarily cease fire. He intrepidly walked toward the creature, who had pushed the bullets out of the bullet hole wounds and growled more angrily. Streams of coagulated blood oozed out of the seven wounds. His eyes were a fluorescent yellow, and he was adorned with a gold chest piece with a black opal scarab in the middle.
“I’d be a good boy and turn back around right now,” the dhampir sniped arrogantly, fangs out in full action.
“I….don’t….take….orders…from a half-breed!” the werewolf being said in a deep voice, through heavy dog panting.
“Stop calling me a fucking half-breed!” the dhampir yelled back at Anubis, eyes glowing red.
Anubis took a swipe at the blonde blood drinker, to whom he missed terribly when the other spun and dodged the attack. Everyone was taken by surprise including the beast when the dhampir vanished before their eyes. He whistled from above the ceiling to get Anubis’s attention, and the beast looked up to see him walking upside down on the ceiling. He then lunged upwards and took another swipe at the half-vampire, but he missed again. Enttu performed a mid-air back flip and swung his blade at Anubis, cutting him open straight down his back.
The Dhampir Dimension Page 6