The Blood Order (Fanghunters Book Two)

by Leo Romero

  She moved to the banister and looked upward. The staircase disappeared up into a dim darkness somewhere way up high. She shook her head. This was gonna be a long night...

  She puffed her cheeks and set off up the steps. She made it to the sixth floor. She checked her watch. 2:12 am. Way past her bed time.

  She tightened her grip on her dart gun as she moved with caution past the door out to six; once bitten twice shy and all that. It was clear. She breezed up the next three flights unhindered. The big 9 on the wall stared back at her like a huge smiling face, mocking her predicament. She gave it a rueful grin; only nine, but already it felt like ninety-nine. She wished it were ninety-nine. She went and looked up the stairwell. She still couldn't see the ceiling. She needed to speed things up. What she really needed was the elevator. It stared at her across the stairwell like an oasis. It was tempting, so, so tempting. She resisted the urge; it was way too risky. The ultimate trap. They were waiting for her to get in there. Once in, they'd snare her, either keeping her locked inside or sending her to whatever floor they wanted her on. They'd be prepared for the smoke bomb trick too, and she had no other viable means of escape.

  I'll just have to go the old fashioned way, she realized.

  She did just that. She got on the first step toward the tenth when a door hinge creaked from somewhere up above. Voices then began echoing through the stairwell.

  Trixie's eyes widened. She whirled back and quick-tiptoed to the door leading out to the tenth floor. She threw it open and dived inside, pulling the door closed behind her. She pressed herself up against the wall adjacent to the door, her dart gun ready. She listened intently to the outside world. Heavy footfalls and the crackle of radios filled the air. For a brief moment, the footfalls grew louder. They'd reached her landing. Her chest tightened alongside the grip on her dart gun. Get ready, girl!

  A face popped up in the glass panel of the stairwell door. Hard eyes rolled around in their sockets, checking out the floor beyond the door.

  Get ready!

  Trixie pressed herself so tight against the wall, she virtually became a coat of paint.

  The eyes rolled around again, but she was out of range. A gruff voice spoke into a radio, which crackled in return, and then the face was gone. Footfalls soon receded into the lower distance. Trixie's chest released and she began breathing properly again. She rubbed her forehead. Oh man...

  They were searching for her. And as the unconscious bodies began to pile up, they'd ramp up the search.

  She let out a hot, irritated sigh. She couldn't go back out to that stairwell; she'd have to take the opposite one, which meant reversing floor ten. She turned her head to the side to check the floor out. She became still, squinting in confusion. Something ahead of her caught her attention. She was in what appeared to be a conference room. Beyond the small reception area was an auditorium of sorts. Empty chairs were positioned around a giant projector screen, which was still on play, the light emanating from it illumining the whole area in different colors as the images changed. She found herself drawn to the light like a moth, her confused stare fixed on the screen.

  What is that? she asked herself as she watched. She stopped just behind the back row of chairs and took it in. From what she could gather, it was some kind of crude info-movie like something shown to high school kids. It began with a logo: a snake eating its own tail, the corporate name 'KRONOS' stamped below it. This made way for a cartoon image of a normal man; first his skeleton appeared, then his organs and circulatory system were overlaid, then his nervous system, finally followed by his skin. Then from the left, an image of a syringe filled with a green liquid was pushed into its arm and the contents injected. The man began to fill with green from the feet up like he was some kind of vessel. Multiple syringes were then injected up and down his arms, and the man turned completely green like he was the Hulk. At this point, fangs grew out from under his top lip. Trixie grimaced.

  The syringes were removed from the poor man's arms and the underlying images of his organs and nervous system returned. Where the core of the system had been red before, it was now black, some branches of nerves stunted and seemingly shut off. Then came the circulatory system in its precise, intricate splendor. An intense network of red veins and arteries, except they ran with a nasty, diseased green. The heart ceased beating.

  The camera then panned in close up on the head. The brain became encased with a black, spongy substance. Near the sinus area, two pouches developed, which swelled green. A connection grew from each of the pouches like a worm and entered the fangs like hoses. The skin formed back over all this and now the man had a pure white skin. Its eyes flicked open. They whirled and glittered. The skin reverted back and the black and putrid brain was in view once more. The black, spongy substance coating it oozed along the optic nerve to the eyeballs. The camera then panned to the eyeballs once more; they continued to whirl and glitter. Trixie nodded in understanding. Vamp hypnosis.

  The camera panned back out with his skin intact. There was a grin on his face, his fangs prominent. The words 'TRANSMUTATION COMPLETE' then flashed up over him. The words blinked in Trixie's irises: transmutation complete.

  She looked away, taking a deep breath to steady herself.

  When she looked back, the movie was repeating from the beginning.

  She shook her head, a shiver coursing through her. Who exactly was this weird movie aimed at, and who'd been watching it? She stared at the empty seats in bewilderment. She then glanced back at the screen to see those syringes once more injecting that green stuff into the man. Was that stuff in the syringes the formula Eddie had created? Was that what it was designed to do? To turn humans into vamps without venom? Is that what happened to Eddie and Dom's dad? What exactly did the Order have in mind for them all? To turn the entire human species into vamps via vaccinations?

  She stared at the bizarre movie, her spine tingling in fear. And what was with that black stuff the fake venom caused? Did real venom do that too? If it did, just how far along the process am I? Is that black spongy stuff on my brain? Eww! She gulped and looked back at the screen; that black stuff on the brain was making an appearance. Was that the key to everything? Was that what the venom became once it got into contact with the brain? A gross black, spongy substance?

  Was there a cure?

  As far as she was aware, there was no cure for vampirism. But maybe there was...

  And what about all those vamps we've killed? she asked herself with a sudden sense of guilty alarm. Dom's dad, your--

  "Don't even go there!" she hissed, severing her train of thought. Her eyes flicked back toward the screen to read those words again: 'transmutation complete'. She shook her head. Once transmutation was complete, there was no going back. Period. The venom altered the DNA beyond repair, that was what Dad told her once when he was off on one of his science lectures. Like usual she wasn't paying attention, but she got that part. But, that pang of guilt remained. What if there is a cure somewhere?

  She grabbed her head. It's too late now, she realized. And if there is a cure, there ain't one around now. What were they supposed do with all those vamps? Keep them stored in a box until the cure was found. Like Dom's dad would've just been a good boy and stayed in a crèche till they came back with the serum?

  She nodded to herself. It was all true. They had to act in the moment, do what was right at the time.

  "Just get out of here," she ordered herself, that image on the screen starting to creep her out. She'd seen enough. She moved past the eerie empty chairs, delving deeper into the floor. She left the auditorium and entered the room at the rear end. She flicked a light switch to expose a small conference room. This one had recently been used; the chairs were strewn here and there away from the table. Sitting on the table were various bottles filled with an ominous red liquid. Blood? She'd heard the Order drank blood neat as opposed to jabbing their victims for it. Some kinda weird 'no bite' policy they had. Stopped the spread of vamps or something. With the amoun
t of work her and Dad had, it looked like a failed policy.

  Some other bottles at the table were normal looking beverages; soda, orange juice, water. That indicated humans. At the head of the table was a board with a map of the world attached to it. But, it wasn't a regular map; the world had been split into regions and not countries. America and Canada were colored red. The whole of South America brown. Africa and the Middle-East were a yellow swathe. Asia was green, with Europe and Oceana blue. Trixie worked it out in her mind. She'd heard theories of partnerships being drawn up to unite mass swathes of land a la the EU, which was already established. Was this what the Order had in mind? Or was it already what was happening? Were the areas representative of the various vampire orders around the globe? What was the plan? For them all to unite peacefully? Or for one to absorb the others and come out on top? Where did the venom vaccinations fit into it all?

  She looked down at the table and the shifted chairs and drinks. Was this a... vampire conference? Christ what a thought. A collection of financial suckers. And what about the normal humans amongst them? Are those sell outs gonna profit from creating and administering jabs of synthetic venom to babies? Thus creating an army of vamps? What for? To take over the world? What would they feed on? The whole spectacle made her nauseous. Sickened her.

  She grabbed her head and turned away from the map. "God, this stuff just doesn't end."

  She then thought of Dad and she snapped back into life. Come on, get moving, Trixie, she said to herself. All this crap can wait.

  This wasn't time to be worrying about the future. She had to get into gear and find Dad, get the hell out of this building, and let these weirdoes get on with whatever it was they had planned.

  She marched to the other side of the room toward the exit. She made it halfway across the gray carpet when a loud, reverberating voice froze her to the spot. "This is a message for Trixie Beauchamp," it said.

  Trixie recognized the voice. Sammy the Saint. She looked up and around, her eyes wide.

  "Your old man has cut a deal with us," the voice continued. "Hand over the relic and we'll let you all go. The pact between us will be reinstated and we can put this all behind us. What d'ya say? If I were you, I'd take the deal."

  Trixie frowned. Deal? Dad cut a deal with them? I don't believe it.

  "This has all been a misunderstanding," the voice then said. "Give yourself into the nearest Blacklake member and bring us the relic, then all this can be over."

  Trixie mulled it over. There was no way Dad would cut a deal with the vamps after everything that's happened. Even if he did and she handed over what they wanted, they'd most probably kill them all anyway. She wasn't that dumb.

  She reached into her belt and plucked out the thing they were so desperate for. She rolled it between her thumb and forefinger, staring at it in confusion. What was it? What was it about it that got them all so worked up? It was just a dull old pebble that looked like chicken poop. She shrugged. Well, whatever it was, it had some kind of hold over the Order, especially Leviah. He wanted it bad. But, how bad?

  She then glanced down at her hurt hand. Her pinky throbbed beneath the bandages. She considered the prospect of going up all those steps. On second thoughts, it probably would be a whole lot easier to just hand myself in, give them what they want and then hope they let Dad go. But there was always the risk of the double-cross. They were in Order territory now; they held all the aces.

  But, the alternative is they kill Dad and Dom anyway.

  Her mind fizzed with uncertainty. She checked her watch. 2:32 am. What that ultimatum bought her was a bit of time. She could make it up some more floors by the time they started to get agitated by her lack of co-operation. She figured it would be a while before they reached the point of sacrificing Dad or Dom. It just meant she had to get up there faster, in the meantime getting a plan of action together, and hoping to make it to the right floor before they came after her.

  She decided to just get up as many floors as fast as possible. She wasn't about to start trusting vamps anytime soon.

  She darted through the conference room and out to the opposite stairwell. It was empty. She made it up to eleven, twelve, unlucky thirteen. She took quick, hot breaths as she hit fourteen, fifteen. The coast was clear all the way up to seventeen. Were they standing down? Backing off? Waiting for her to give herself in? She wasn't about to hang around and find out. She hit eighteen and checked her watch. 2:43. She was clearing the stories at a good pace. At this rate, she could make up into the nineties in less than half an hour. If she could last that long...

  Come on, Trixie, you're an athlete, she reminded herself. You could run to the roof spit off the top and make it down to the ground floor before it hits the sidewalk.

  She put her head down and cleared another flight of steps, making it to nineteen. On reaching twenty, she took a moment to look up the stairwell. The ceiling was still hidden in darkness, but when she looked down, she could barely make out the ground. She was making light work of the tower; hope rose inside her heart. She took the first step of the next flight when a reverberating voice rooted her.

  "This is another message for Trixie."

  She stopped and listened.

  "We're still waiting for you to make contact with the nearest Blacklake representative. Reminder: the deal is the relic for your father and Dom." He said the name Dom as if it felt dirty on his lips. "The deal won't be on all night. You've got ten minutes. Once that time is up, the deal is off. This is a final warning."

  They were getting restless already. Trixie's watch read 2:50 am. They wanted the relic by 3 am. She wasn't even a quarter of the way up the building. She thumped the wall in anger. Her mind worked. Give in or carry on? Stick or twist? She mulled it over.

  She then huffed in irritation. "You're wasting time!" she scowled at herself.

  In the next second, she calmed. She patted the air ahead of her. "Okay, keep going. You can get up more floors in ten. Let them make the next move." She set off up more steps, her boots echoing around the stairwell. She cleared twenty-one, and twenty-two, glancing at her watch every time she hit a landing. She hoped they wouldn't do anything bad to the boys because of her no-show. If they did, it was on her. She passed twenty-two. She stepped up more stairs, her legs tingling.

  "How the hell did I get into this?" she mumbled to herself as she went. "Being chased by crazy guys, hunting vamps. Won't anything be normal again? Well, my finger won't be the same again, that's for sure." She cleared twenty-three. A check of the watch told her she had five minutes. She made it through twenty-four and twenty-five.

  By the time she made it to twenty-seven, that was down to three. And she was starting to get sick of staring at white walls and stairs. Come on, Trixie, she urged herself. Come on, girl, just get up as many as you can.

  And then what? she asked herself. Once the time's up. Then what?

  She knew she'd just have to wait and see.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Vincent let out a bored sigh and looked around him. His right leg had numbed from being strapped to the chair for so long. He wondered how long it had been since they gave Trixie the ultimatum. Ten minutes? Twenty? She still hadn't arrived or even responded. He hoped it wasn't because anything had happened to her. Or because she had other ideas.

  He wasn't sure which scenario was worse.

  He caught Dom's stare, who gave him a look of sympathy in return. Vincent guessed he was probably contemplating the same things. Where was Trixie? Was she okay?

  Only time will tell, he answered in his mind.

  He turned back to lay eyes on Leviah. He was slumped in his recliner, thrumming his slender fingers on the armrest, an expression of absolute boredom embedded in his face. Vincent took great pleasure in that countenance. Any kind of suffering on behalf of Leviah was welcome.

  "Waiting, waiting..." Vincent then said in an absent tone, just loud enough for Leviah to hear.

  Leviah began to thrum harder.

  "S
he ain't biting, boss," Sammy then suggested with a shake of his head.

  Leviah ceased thrumming. "Where is she now?"

  Sammy got on his radio. "Yeah, it's Sammy. Where's she at?"

  "We've got her locked on the stairwell at twenty-seven."

  Sammy turned to Leviah. "They said she's on--"

  "My ears still function correctly, Sammy!" Leviah snapped. He huffed. "Well, if she won't come peacefully, then we better drag her in."

  "Sure thing, boss." Sammy got back on his radio. "Move in! Move in!"

  "Roger out!"

  "She'll be here in a jiffy, boss," Sammy stated with an air of confidence.

  Vincent gave Dom a grave glance. Dom gulped.

  "Why must everything be so difficult?" Leviah lamented with a shake of his head.

  Trixie was about to enter the stairwell for twenty-eight when that loudspeaker started up again.

  "Hey, Trixie! Since you don't wanna play nice, you leave us no choice. We gave you a chance, but time's now up."

  Trixie glanced at her watch. "Hey, I've still got two minutes!" she said to the air around her.

  "We can see you!" that voice then sang at her.

  Trixie frowned. See me?

  An electronic whir began from somewhere. Her head snapped up. She found herself staring at a CCTV camera jutting out of the wall. She hadn't noticed them in any of the stairwells so far. The thing was turning her way. Her jaw dropped. The eye focussed right in on her. She could almost see them all waving at her from wherever they were watching.

  "Oh, crap."

  "Say cheese!" the voice demanded.

  The stairwell door then burst open and they started pouring out. Trixie almost jumped out of her skin. She spun to face them all. She caught a glimpse beyond the door of them filing out from the elevator like ants.

  She whirled, raucous laughter bolting from that loudspeaker, filling the corridor alongside hungry mercs. She raced up the steps, just as the first one lunged. She heard his palms slap down on the steps behind her, missing her by inches.