The 3-Book King’s Blood Vampire Saga

by P. J. Day

  “Have you eaten?”

  “What?” she asked, surprised.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Yeah, I guess?”

  “There’s a great deli around the corner. You want to go?”

  “Fine, as long as you’re buying and you tell me what’s going on...”

  “Let’s go,” he said, as he stood up from the white Tomorrowland-inspired chair-shaped seat, a common theme for the furnishings that were placed around the rooms and lobbies in the downtown, trendy hotel. He grabbed his wallet, and left the hotel room, Keelen in tow.

  As they exited the hotel lobby, Logan leaped off the front stairs of the trendy hotel that sat on Sixth and Flower.

  “Why are you so happy?” she asked, carefully descending the steps, as her tall, thin heels added an attractive inch or two to her height.

  Wide-eyed, Logan pumped his fists in front of his chest. “Because the dawn of humanity has just begun.”

  “How long are you going to keep me in the dark?”

  Logan ignored her questions, once again. “Their pastrami is to die for.”

  Keelen grunted. “Seriously, what the hell is going on? Are you going to tell me or what?”

  Logan stopped mid-walk in front of a bank branch, where a row of ATM machines flickered with an identical error code. He faced Keelen, looking dapper in his designer T-shirt and black sports jacket. “Yes,” he nodded, scanning both sides of the sidewalk. “Little by little, though, or as much as you can handle.”

  “If I can handle constant rejection in this town, I can handle anything,” she said, following him, as Logan picked up his pace. “I seriously need to know.”

  They both rounded the corner on 4th Street and entered the New York Style Deli. The waitress rolled her eyes as she observed them stroll to the back of the restaurant. She preferred that they sit closer to the front, as the diner was about to close for the night. Realizing a decent tip was more important than convenience; she relented and took their order anyway.

  Logan waited for the waitress to leave before asking another question. Biding his time, he tapped his fingernails on the table, as Keelen decided on the flavor of her iced tea. He glanced over his shoulder, waiting for the waitress to walk out of earshot, before popping the question.

  “Why did we stop dating?”

  Keelen now looked annoyed. “You’re never going to tell me, are you?”

  “Was it my bathroom habits?”

  She sighed. “No, you were pretty clean, actually.”

  “Was I too thin? In relation to Matt, of course.”

  Keelen chuckled, as she relaxed a little from her ongoing anxiety. “No, I think your build is quite nice.”

  “Good,” Logan smiled, relieved. “I do remember your exact words, though. You said you needed time alone. I thought, sure, it’s probably only gonna last a couple of days at most, and then just like that, next thing I knew, we were broken up.”

  “I’m sorry,” Keelen said, letting out a deep breath. “Sometimes, I’d rather lose someone than deal with the potential anxiety of a relationship. Does that make sense to you?”

  “You’d think if you liked someone a lot, the potential for something long-term would supersede your own personal demons and you’d try to make it work.”

  “But what if you care for someone so much that you wouldn’t want to put them through hell of your own making?”

  Logan paused as the waitress served their drinks.

  “Have you guys decided?” asked the waitress.

  “Two pastrami on rye...” Logan answered.

  As Logan ordered, Keelen checked her phone with worry.

  “Everything all right?” Logan asked.

  “I’m worried about Cindy.”

  “Is she all right?”

  “I don’t know. I’m kinda freaked out. Last I heard from her, she was doing research at the church during that crazy protest today. I haven’t heard from her since.”

  Logan took a sip from his straw. “I’m sure she’s fine. The protests have been peaceful. She’ll call.”

  “I hope so.”

  Logan’s brow lifted precociously before his next question. “So, what’d you see in Matt?”

  Keelen rested the side of her chin on the palm of her upright hand. “How many more questions before you answer mine?”

  “Just one more.”

  Keelen rolled her large blue eyes in reflection. “Fine, let’s see. He’s confident. It also helps that he’s extremely handsome. He’s also spontaneous. Funny. Loose...”

  “You love him?”

  Keelen paused for a moment. She took a sip of her cola. “Of course.”

  Logan looked on skeptically. “Yeah?”

  She nodded with vigor. “Um...yeah.”

  “Just checking...”

  Keelen nodded toward the window. “Okay, now that you’re caught up on me, what’s going on out there?”

  “Things are balancing themselves out.”

  Keelen sat back in the booth and peered sharply into Logan’s eyes. “Kinda vague...how’d you do this? How are you pulling this off?”

  “I can’t tell you, yet.”

  “How come?”

  “I need to prepare you.”

  “For what?”

  “How strong do you think you are?”

  “You mean physically or mentally?”

  “Both.”

  “Um...I...huh? Well, physically, I used to run cross-country—wait you knew that,” Keelen said with a laugh.

  “You do have nice legs, and you did tell me you ran cross-country track,” Logan grinned.

  “I could run 10 miles right now, if wanted to,” she bragged. “Now, mentally? Well, I’ve been in L.A. for 2 years now. All alone, by myself. Trying to make it. I’ve survived so far. Mentally, I’d say I’m Herculean.”

  “Confident. Good,” Logan asserted.

  “I’d say so.”

  Logan’s demeanor turned serious. His glare interrupted the rhythm of their banter. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something, something that’s been gnawing at me since we’ve begun seeing each other regularly again.”

  The waitress came by and served the pastrami sandwiches.

  Logan paused.

  Keelen drew an awkward smile and squirmed slightly. “You know, I really like Matt...”

  “...you’ve inspired me,” Logan interrupted.

  “In what way?” Keelen asked, clearing her throat.

  “I love you.”

  Keelen subconsciously tugged on the lobe of her ear in discomfort, and looked away from Logan, darting her eyes around the deli. She then leaned toward Logan and whispered, “I love you as a friend. We had our shot. You decided to concentrate on your work. I couldn’t handle the loneliness, the flakiness. I didn’t want to hound you.”

  Logan grabbed Keelen’s hand. She didn’t fight him off this time.

  “I appreciate that. You let me be. You let me be myself. Because you gave me space, you now, unknowingly, have your hand in everything you see around you.”

  Keelen narrowed her large eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “I love you a lot. Yes, romantically. And I would pursue you if I still had the opportunity. But I know I don’t have a chance, because Matt’s there, and he seems to care for you. So, mentally, I’ve moved on. I wouldn’t try anything that would put you in an uncomfortable position. But what I’m trying to say is...you inspired me to pursue something larger than me.”

  “Ugh...wait a minute, I’m confused,” Keelen squawked. “Do you love me or...”

  “...Yes, yes I do. If I had more time, I’d...I’d...try again, but Matt. Look, I don’t want to focus on that. Like you said, I had my chance, and you’re right. Listen, something is going to go down.”

  Keelen shook her head in agitation. “Logan, this is too much.”

  Logan gripped both Keelen’s hands tightly. “Don’t lose focus from my eyes.”

  “Okay,” Keelen breathed softly, convening on Loga
n’s caramel eyes, ones that were fiery tonight with some serious intent.

  “If something were to happen to me,” he said, “don’t let them take my body.”

  Keelen’s worried lips pulled back with dread. “What?”

  “Listen to me. Everything is in motion. You had your hand in this, too...”

  “...how? Oh my God! I knew it. I’m going to prison, aren’t I?”

  “No, this situation is much bigger than you, bigger than your family, bigger than this country, bigger than Canada, bigger than this world. Humanity is going to depend on the words I am going to say.”

  “Okay,” Keelen said, stiffly. “You’re scaring me.”

  Logan pulled back and let go of Keelen’s sweaty palms. “It’s okay, breathe deeply.”

  Keelen inhaled the overwhelming smell of horseradish that permeated the deli in through her nose and exhaled it with pep. She opened her eyes. The breathing exercise didn’t do anything to calm her nerves; she came out of it trembling, her eyes watering. “I’m scared, Logan.”

  “I can’t have you scared. I really need you. There’s no one else I can trust.”

  “Why me? Why do you have to trust me?”

  “Because you’ve got courage and strength. I’ve always sensed it in you. Now, listen.”

  Keelen nodded her head. Panic enhanced her attentiveness.

  “There are some real angry people out there. Very angry and powerful people. Once they find out that I had a hand in all of this, once they find out who I am, and what my name is, they’re gonna want to eliminate me from this Earth. They won’t be able to get back what was once theirs, but they will be able to punish the person responsible for their losses.”

  Keelen wiped away a tear from her eye and regained some composure. She scanned the deli for any suspicious activity, then leaned in and whispered, “How have you managed to do all this? I don’t want something to happen to you. You need to stop all this. You proved your point. You’ve caused enough damage as it is.”

  “There’s more to come. I need you, Keelen,” he said, his focus steady. “Can you do this? With me? Can you make sure no one takes my body?”

  Keelen paused. She continued to shake her head.

  Logan leaned in with concern. “Are you okay?”

  “I don’t know if I can handle all this.”

  “I get it...I’m sorry. This might be too much,” Logan said, with a slight look of defeat on his face.

  “I need to go,” Keelen said, her voice trembling.

  She pulled out her beige leather change purse and pulled out a twenty then tried placing it on the table. Logan grabbed her wrist and stared into her eyes. “I need you.”

  Keelen dropped the money on the table anyway. With a solemn expression, she got up from the booth and reached in her purse again. “I forgot. This is for you. It’s a front-row seat to tomorrow’s fight. Estil Magazine is giving it you. They also said they’ll donate $10,000 to any charity of your choice if you show up.”

  Logan held the ticket in his hand and continued making direct eye contact. “Do you need some time to think about all this?”

  “Yes, please,” she said, as strain temporarily aged her otherwise youthful face. “Come to tomorrow’s fight. I told Matt it would be good for the both of you if you were there to support him.”

  Logan nodded and then shrugged. “I’ll see.”

  Keelen bent down and kissed Logan softly on the cheek and said, “You’ve done enough. You’ve already helped. Don’t be foolish. The world deserves more of your work. I want you around.”

  Logan stared blankly toward the back wall, as Keelen stood straight and scurried out of the diner, overwhelmed by Logan’s appeal. He ran his finger over the thick paper stock of the ticket. Why would Estil show such eagerness in inviting him to an amateur boxing match? However, a feeling deep down inside his gut compelled him to go. To support Keelen at least.

  Everything was in motion according to his plans. Destiny was changing, he felt. It was time to let the events presented to him, dictate his actions.

  But first, there was something he had to finish.

  Something called The Sunset Edict.

  Chapter Twenty-seven:

  Crossroads of the World

  Chirps and croaks awoke Cindy. The sunlight was gone. The office filled with the glow of the high moon through the curtained window.

  “Are those frogs?” she asked herself. Her first, tired words, since awakening from her horror-induced slumber. She looked around in the darkness and mouthed, “Where am I?”

  She stretched out her good leg and propped herself up against the wall. With a sudden bout of anxiety, she cast her eyes on the floor, desperately searching for the Apocryphon. It lay in front of her on the floor, next to a dried patch of blood. As she reached down for the big red book, a sharp pain overwhelmed her entire leg. She pulled the rag she used as a tourniquet around her ankle to the side, revealing the early signs of an infection. Red, irritated skin had spread a couple inches above the area where the Seraph had sliced through her flesh.

  Cindy picked up the book placed it inside her small, black backpack and hopped toward the light switch by the door. She flipped it, but the office had no electricity. She scanned the office for a phone. There was nothing: just a desk, a barren bookshelf, and an empty waste bin.

  Without knowing how long she’d traveled through the underground tunnel and river, Cindy had no clue where in L.A. she was. She pulled aside the curtain and saw a Spanish-style fountain in a courtyard surrounded by lush, manicured bushes, and trimmed trees. Frogs leaped in and out of the fountain, sending beads of water through the air that twinkled in the moonlight like sparks.

  Cindy then turned around and rummaged through the drawers of the desk. She found unused stationery with “Exalt Productions” printed at the top. The office had belonged to an old production company of some type that had been abandoned.

  Lost without any concept of time, Cindy dared to open the door leading to the courtyard, without knowing if the grotesque, winged creature that slashed her ankle lay in wait, patiently in the dark, and eager to finish the kill.

  She unlocked the door with caution, making sure nothing outside heard the clank of the bolt. She peered through the small opening. A small office park surrounded the fountain, brush, and trees. The miniature, two-story buildings resembled a provincial German village. Complete with Old World tilt-and-turn windows and a cross-section of unnecessary brown, wooden beams adorning the walls.

  Cindy sniffed the air like a meerkat. Car exhaust and the familiar odor of taco trucks familiarized her sense of smell and sense of direction.

  She limped out of the office and surveyed the area with her flagging vision. To her right, she identified a familiar wrought-iron fence. It was laid out next to the street directly behind the Blessed Sacrament Church, where she used to buy chili-powdered mangos from a street vendor on her way to her previous job at a used bookstore. She took a glance over her shoulder above the office building she’d stumbled from, and sure enough, she now faced the back of the church.

  Spiraling flashes of red and blue caromed off the church walls. A news helicopter circled the church steeple, like a maternal buzzard looking for its next sliver of meat. “That’s a lot of commotion for trespassing,” she thought to herself.

  Cindy put pressure on her injured foot. The wound was too deep. The Seraph had struck the muscle in her lower leg meant for thrust and load. The only way she could get back to her car was if she hopped on one foot like an injured bird.

  Slowly but surely, Cindy hobbled toward Sunset Boulevard, checking the numerous shadows for the slightest movement, her ears vigilant for rustles or snaps of twigs.

  The office park was abandoned. There were no signs or light coming from inside the bungalows. The blacktop of the parking lot had no cars, cracks and fissures were full of debris from years of neglect.

  As she crossed the dim and desolate parking lot, a peculiar building, shaped like a boat, em
erged. At its bow, a globe spun atop a 20-foot concrete spire. The words “Crossroads of the World” wrapped around the moderately sized blue orb. She passed the landmark every day on the way to work, thinking nothing of it. It was fun to look at, but that was as far as her internal inquiry went.

  Cindy walked up to one of the large windows that wrapped the building’s corners. She peeked through the small space between the white curtains. Boxes and papers littered the floor as if someone was in a hurry to leave. The Apocryphon did mention the Crossroads of the World, but Cindy couldn’t rationalize its significance at the moment. She needed to get online fast and do some more research, before whatever had attacked her returned to finish her off.

  She dragged herself toward the fence. The stretch of Sunset in front of the Blessed Sacrament was cordoned off with yellow police tape. Around 15 squad cars were parked in front of the church. There were no gaps in the fence that she could fit through, and the center gate that opened to the walkway was locked. Scaling the fence was the only way out. However, she could barely walk, let alone scale an eight-foot iron fence. Even if she could, an injured girl climbing over a fence at the corner edges of a crime scene was too risky.

  A group of spectators gathered on the corner of North Las Palmas Avenue. Cindy scanned the crowd for a trusting and helpful face. The temptation of shouting for help nibbled her gut. Then like a miracle, a familiar profile caught her eye. A browned, bearded jawline, with the unmistakable quivering, wet lips of a bespectacled professor, Paolo Rivers leaned against his parked, silver Honda Accord, tiptoeing to see above the crowd, anxiety riddling his face.

  “Professor,” Cindy said in a stage whisper. Paolo didn’t hear her cry. She glanced toward the police, as the nearest officer was only thirty yards away. After clearing her throat, she readied her voice and called out his name, this time a little louder. “Professor Rivers!”

  Some in the crowd turned their heads toward the small-framed girl, who stood awkwardly behind the fence. Luckily, the professor was one of them.

  He glanced toward the police before jogging toward Cindy, his arms tucked like a plump and nerdy bipedal basilisk, the earthly kind. He crossed the yellow tape and met her at the fence. “Cindy, are you okay?”