Le Roi Du Sang

by Tiana Laveen

  “He pretended to do charity work, provide low income housing, huh?” Whiskey smirked and shook his head. “Unfuckin’ real. These fuckin’ people are totally screwed up… just like him. I had no idea your brother was such a basket case.”

  “He moved in here, had a big house built and demanded to be praised. He made up rules as he went along, gave incentives to get everyone to do what he wanted, things like that.”

  “They call it a God complex,” Zhang Wei stated as he swiped the back his hand across his forehead.

  They all drew quiet when they heard faint music coming from a small car parked on the side of the street… the sounds of a French song, ‘Ne me quitte pas’, by Jacques Brel.

  The car rocked violently as they drew closer, like a washing machine on the fritz. Once close to it, Whiskey rolled his eyes and hissed, fangs extended, nostrils flared as if he were horrorstruck. Zhang Wei’s nostrils flared too and all Alexandre could do was flick his cigarette onto the ground and crush it under the thick soles of his black boot. A Turned Vamp was inside the vehicle fucking a long dead vampire with all of her might. The stench alone from the decomposing body made Alexandre want to hurl.

  Her moans began to echo over the music and she only paused to toss them a glance from over her shoulder. An eerie, crooked smile danced along her face as she rode the corpse hard, her small, milky ass rising and falling on the ashy, stiff body that was nearly skin and bone. Tendrils of strawberry blonde hair hung down her tattooed back. Tears welled in her light brown eyes and wilted red rose petals were strewn all about, some of them spread between her thighs.

  “If I keep fucking him, he will wake up for me! He will come back to life!” she said in French, her pupils brimming with insanity. The woman suddenly shrieked, a deafening noise, extending her fangs before turning abruptly away and riding him all the harder.

  Having seen enough, they kept on their way until he saw the gold and white house up on the hill.

  “This is it, boys.” Taking careful steps, the three made the trip up the steep hill. It was strangely serene compared to the ‘attractions’ on the journey over. In fact, from the outside, Victor’s house looked normal—a nice plot of land with a massive home that didn’t display any out-of-the-ordinary madness on its façade.

  Minutes later, they’d arrived at the large white doors, knowing full well they were in view.

  “You want us to stay out back or, uh, maybe wait to the side?” Whiskey asked as he loaded a few bullets into the chamber of one of his many weapons.

  “No. We’re going to walk the fuck in. Like men.”

  Suddenly, five guards lunged at them with guns, screaming in French. “PUT YOUR HANDS UP!”

  Zhang Wei turned around like a spinner top and released five poisonous Chinese stars from his fingertips, flicking them faster than bullets could fly. All five guards wobbled on their feet, the stars embedded deep into their foreheads like toothpicks inside of a cube of cheese. Zhang Wei dodged between their bodies, knocking them about with a swift chop to the neck, then forcing the stars farther in until they popped out on the other side. All the guards fell to their knees, one by one, dead in a matter of seconds. Wasting no time, Alexandre kicked the front doors in; they crumbled to the ground in a pile of wood. Immediately, an alarm sounded, but the three took their sweet time entering the place, checking their surroundings.

  “He knows we’re here. There are cameras everywhere.”

  “Where do you think he is?” Whiskey asked as he looked to and fro, his senses heightened.

  “He will go to one of two places: down into his basement or his bedroom. That’s where he keeps the majority of his artillery. I looked at the blueprint files before we got here.”

  “I’ll check upstairs!” Whiskey announced before flying half way up the staircase, but when he was a few steps in, a guard raced towards him with a firearm and shot three times. “Shit!” Whiskey dropped down on his haunches and shot the bastard twice in the chest, and once in the head. In a matter of moments, the big man was standing over the officer, his knife raised high with both hands. Blood sprayed on the floor below and all around, including Whiskey’s body, when the man jammed the blade into the side of the fucker’s skull, then wiggled it back and forth from side to side. When he was done, he rushed the rest of the way up the staircase until he disappeared from sight.

  “Let’s go!” Alexandre and Zhang Wei headed in the direction of vault. They moved about along a red carpeted corridor. Paintings of their deceased family members hung on the walls. All of a sudden, the power went out and the sound of a generator being shut down could be heard. Trapped there for several seconds, they attempted to gain their bearings. Cool air filled the area, and a stiff foggy vapor rolled against their forms like a sleepy lover in need of a gentle touch. They looked at one another in the darkness and their eyes immediately adjusted, the sclerae turning infrared.

  “Ah!” Zhang Wei hollered out. His eyes bucked as he bent forward, holding his gut. Alexandre jumped on the wall closest to him, hanging from it like a bat as he tried to gauge what the hell was going on.

  “Zhang!”

  Zhang Wei screamed out again and again. Something zoomed around in the air—something heavy and hard, flying at rapid speed.

  Zhang Wei’s eyes pressed shut and he wobbled on his feet, barely able to stand. He succumbed to his injuries and fell to his knees. Alexandre could suddenly hear heavy footsteps storming toward the man. Crawling closer along the ceiling, he sized up the prey, then jumped down from the wall, picked the battered king up, and spun him around in full force, knocking the predators right off their feet. They too fell to their knees in a praying position. Tossing Zhang Wei onto the ground, he did a back flip, his arm outstretched, hand out in front of himself, and sliced it through the mist, decapitating the two guards that drifted in the floating fog with swift chops to the sides of their heads. Then, he landed softly back on his feet. Zhang Wei moaned and rolled about until he was able to stand again. Screaming with rage, he tossed the sharp stars into their domes, driving them deep within as an act of ultimate reprisal.

  “Are you all right? Let me help,” Alexandre said.

  “No. Let me do it myself…” Zhang Wei nodded as he grunted in agony. “I can feel where to take it out… must do this carefully… hold on.” The man’s back twisted and cracked as he reached around himself, groaned in pain, then dug into his spine. In a matter of seconds, he removed the thick axe blade now covered in his own blood. The damn thing had been deeply imbedded, leaving a hell of a hole.

  “You need time to heal. Here, sit down.” Alexandre helped him over to a wall and sat him down on the floor.

  “No… I can’t let you go down there by yourself.” The king winced and slumped over. His hand trembled as his body made haste to right the wrong.

  “You have to stay here… you’re in no shape to fight. Look, Zhang Wei, you’ve done your part. You’ve done more than enough. You came to my home and met my mate. You came to France and spoke on my behalf. You helped me get in here by getting rid of those guards with the potent poison from your stars. Just stay out of sight. If you see Whiskey and he still doesn’t know the whereabouts of my brother, tell him to stay put, too. This fight isn’t yours, anyway. It’s between Victor and me.” Alexandre turned to walk away.

  “Alexandre. Wait. Take these.” Zhang Wei coughed, dug into his pocket, and tossed him several stars, one by one. Alexandre caught all of them between his fingers, slipping them into his jacket. He smiled at the man and headed into the basement, the smell of freshly drawn blood stinging his nostrils as he climbed down the stairwell.

  “Oh Brother, Where Art Thou? Ahhh, there you are. I can smell your fears and desires. Big Brother is watching you…”

  Venus extended her leg, her diamond anklet gleaming against her skin, her eyes barely open as naked bastards moved around her, covering her with jewels, kisses, feeding her blood, dancing and singing at the top of their lungs, their tongues and lips tinted with
gore and essence…

  It was a crazy bachelorette party, the kind that one would only read about. Syà stood a few feet away with six other Chinese Vamps, holding a needle dripping with blood in one hand and a soaked cotton ball in the other. The Chinese women cackled and laughed, all of them dressed in red silk gowns, their gorgeous sleek black hair pulled back in various elaborate styles. One held a long, thin amber pipe between her pale fingers.

  “Syà…” Venus called out to her friend, unsure if she was going to pass out. Syà had been working on her tattoo for what felt like an eternity. The Queen appeared to be easily distracted, noshing on frozen sweet blood cubes, purchasing a slew of elaborate clothing and intricate sex toys from peddlers. The woman even had the audacity to get into a physical altercation with a man who she believed had insulted her in some way. Syà was savagely stunning, for that same man now lay in a messy heap, his body cut in three pieces of equal size. She’d tossed him at the foot of the door, partially shoved to the side, where he was bleeding from every orifice. “Syà!” She called out again, her inner thigh stinging to death. Oh, what a night…

  “Oh yes, here I come, you big baby,” the woman teased as she left her den of hens, sat back on her pedestal chair, and assumed the position of tattoo artist. “What a bridezilla you are… so impatient. At least your dress looks nice, right? Beautiful. After she finishes those few adjustments, it will be incredible!”

  Venus glared at the bitch as she began to jab and jam the crooked needle into her flesh, treating her temple like an embroidery stitch.

  “Do you have to be so rough, Syà?”

  “This is nothing compared to your wedding night.”

  “Oh, stop trying to scare me! It’s sex! No one said we were going to breed right away anyway… breed. God, I hate that word.” Venus swiped her hand across her forehead. “Why can’t you just say have children?” Syà shrugged, clearly not giving a shit. “You all say spawn like it’s a creation of the Devil! I am not saying it anymore.” Venus crossed her arms mulishly over her chest.

  “Doesn’t matter what fancy word you want to use, Professor. They are offspring, spawn, viruses… the vampire fetus is a horrible leech. Us mothers never forget that… depletes you of everything. The more powerful the parents, the worse the pregnancy they say.” Syà’s brow rose as she regarded Venus, shook her head and grinned. “Alexandre is very powerful, like my husband… said you’re very powerful, too. I believe it after watching you in the Basilica. Those guards never knew what was coming. Now we know that you were turned by an original Queen Mother Pure Blood then mated with her son. Girl… your first pregnancy is going to zap you dry… turn you to salt. You’ll be at your second death’s door.”

  “It’s so nice speaking to you, Syà. You’re always full of good cheer.” Venus grimaced and rolled her eyes, causing the woman to burst out laughing.

  “If it helps, each pregnancy after the first is much easier… body used to it then. The first baby is like an invasion… so greedy… eating up everything like Pac-Man.” Venus burst out laughing, winced, then laughed once again. “Toru Iwatani invented Pac-Man… he was from Japan. Should’ve been from China.”

  “Thank you for that trivia… it’s riveting.” Venus smiled, appreciating how Syà was trying to take her mind off everything, cool her nerves. Fact of the matter was, it had been an odd day from the start. Alexandre drank breakfast, fucked her against the wall of five different rooms in his mansion, then went for a leisurely jog. He and Whiskey returned for only a few moments, then disappeared without another word. When she called him, the calls went straight to voicemail. She’d texted asking if he was okay and he simply wrote back: Yes, don’t wait up.

  It was then that she knew what he was doing.

  Hunting.

  … Seeking big prey, familiar prey, vengeful prey.

  “Ouch!” Syà shook her head at her, but kept right on. “How long does it take to tattoo two damn initials, Syà?! What are you doing? Writing King Alexandre Marseille in Chinese five times over?!”

  “I am adding a special gift for you. Shhh…”

  “If it’s a little picture of a dick squirting cum, we’re going to fight. I could see you doing something silly like that.”

  “Shhh!”

  Venus drew quiet and took big, long breaths. When she looked to her right, she noticed such a pretty creation… A little vampire youth, her storm-cloud-colored eyes unusually large and doe-like, raced around the area laughing and getting into mischief. Venus had no idea where the little cutie had come from. She moved about like a tiny whirlwind, her short, kinky chocolate brown hair pulled in an afro puff and adorned with a large jade green bow. Wearing a gorgeous tulle matching dress, she danced about with a glass bottle of bubbles. Jungle sang ‘Casio’ through the strangely surreal place, creating more of an atmosphere. There were no bed times in the underworld of her mate’s people; there was no peace and quiet except in one’s mind. She was now a member of this strange society. The rules and bones of their enemies were meant to be broken.

  She smiled at this revelation as the pain got good to her, the needle piercing her flesh, drawing out carnal agony married to delightful pleasure… penetration like no other. Her eyes rolled and she laughed lightly as she realized she was high. What kind of ink was that? What had her new Chinese sister spiked her drink with? Venus laughed harder and harder as her eyes pooled with tears of celebration and death, rebirth and resurrection… all while lavender and pink bubbles floated in the air over her head, promising to never be popped…

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Heaven Rained Hell Upon Their Heads…

  The sound of dripping water mixed with the delicate beats of the classical music…

  Beethoven.

  Alexandre took a careful step, and then another down the dark brick staircase that leaned slightly to the left. He paused and laughed as he placed his sword against his thigh, resting it in the sling attached to his pants. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he searched through his playlist.

  “As usual, little bro, your musical taste sucks. I mean, I like Beethoven, but uh, for this, we need a little more flavor. Let’s put on something a bit better for the special occasion…” Alexandre turned on one his favorite playlists. $UICIDEBOY$’ ‘Paris’ began to play from his phone. He turned it up full volume, placed his cell back in his jacket, and continued on his trek. Swaying to the beat, his lips curled in a smile, he inhaled his brother’s sticky emotions floating in the air like particles of times gone by. His sword made a swooshing sound as he took hold of it and kept on his way. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a black raven fly by. He sniffed the air then snarled. The foul stench of a diseased Bottom Feeder…

  Descending farther down, he took note of someone dressed in a white, bloodied gown. Her dark, disheveled long hair covered part of her scratched and bruised face and her neck appeared broken, strained and covered with old ligature marks. The Bottom Feeder snapped and twitched, some of her movements quick and jerky, others slow and drawn out. And then, she just stopped and smiled. He quickly ducked when she suddenly raced towards him in lightning speed, her mouth wide open, bellowing broken curses, her yellowed fangs bared. Alexandre burst out laughing and shook his head.

  “The ol’ sick ass Bottom Feeder in need of a feed trick, huh, Vic? Here we go again! Only, I’m not my mate… I’ve been killing these fucking bitches for centuries!”

  He climbed the wall to the ceiling and dared her to approach.

  Flying backwards, her body twisting and wiggling in the oddest of ways, she came at him, her head thrown backwards as she eyed him. And then, she paused, as if something within her recognized who he was… that he was king. She tried to retreat, but it was far too late…

  “Oh no, you don’t! I can’t let you try to double back later or have you out here biting citizens. You wanted a piece of me, right? Well, it’s time to get served!”

  He quickly caught her by the ankle, swung her around, and sliced her head off w
ith his sword. Her body remained floating, as if on an invisible cloud, while her head hit the ground in a blood-spattered crash. For several seconds, her eyes roamed about in her skull as if unaware of what had just happened. He blew ever so lightly on the suspended body, forcing it to fall down in a thud and join the rest of her, then continued along the path. The pounding of booted feet could be heard. Moving speedily to his right, he glanced up the staircase and saw Whiskey holding three heads by the hair, all dripping with blood, the eyes within the faces dead and wide open and the skulls freshly removed.

  “Whiskey! I didn’t want you down here. Did you see King Zhang Wei?”

  Alexandre got out of the way in the nick of time when a sword swung right towards his face. He sliced through the air as another guard moved about, taking full advantage of his distraction. “Shit!” Jumping down and landing flat on his feet, he knocked the first guard over with a swipe of his hand, then stomped his brains with his heel. He fended off the other with his sword as he continued to stomp the shit out of the guard on the ground, then jammed the sword in the bastard’s mouth, jerked it out, and removed his head.

  Whiskey was suddenly out of view, and he could hear screaming and bloodcurdling cries for help. “Fuck! Whiiiskey! Can ya hear me?”

  Moments later, Whiskey re-emerged, his body dripping with blood… but it wasn’t his own.

  “Yeah,” he said breathlessly, his chest rising and falling hard. “There’s a shitload of guards in this house, boss. We’ve been killin’ them. King Zhang Wei is strong as hell; he’s been fightin’, but he doesn’t have a lot of energy left. He isn’t getting any time to heal ’cause of this.”

  “Get him out of here… take him back to his wife, Syà. He needs to feed and he needs rest.”

  “But what about—”

  “Ahhh!” His arm stung as he felt the piercing pain of some projectile entering his flesh. “Don’t worry about me! GO!” he ordered when Whiskey started to rush down the stairs. Zhang Wei needed him far more than he did. He refused to have the death of his fellow king and friend on his watch. He looked around in the dimly lit, colossal cellar, unable to see who’d shot him. He flung off his jacket and shirt to the ground. Forcing his baby fingernail to emerge, he dug into his arm, his fangs descending as he grimaced through the sharp pain. Mining out the bullet, he tossed it into his pocket. Alexandre tossed his head back and chuckled, slowly going insane with each moment. The music playing from his phone through his jacket pocket fueled the anger and madness as GHOSTEMANE yelled the rap lyrics to ‘Mercury.’