Cerci loved Fabiana so completely that now, even at his imminent death, his thoughts were only of her.
And then Cerci was falling down into the earth. He was free for a brief moment before his body found the hardness of the cold stone of the coffin. He was bleeding badly, and his wrists were bound so tightly that his shoulder pained him deeply. Over and over again, Cerci was struck by the weight of falling earth. He tried to climb to his feet but it was a futile exercise for the weight of the dirt was coming down too fast and hard upon his body. Soon he was completely encumbered by its density. A cry rose in him—a consuming cry that came from the bowels of his being, rising up like the wind but then disappearing in the depths of the soil around him.
The moon came and went three times and still Cerci lay in the earth, his mind finding the thoughts of the vampires on the surface. Cerci could find solace in their thoughts but he knew one day they would leave and he would truly be alone forever. It was not well-known outside the world of vampires that oxygen was not something that was a real concern for the Blood Born. Vampires were even known to go into ‘The Sleep’, as it is called, by burying themselves in the earth for long periods of time. Of course, unlike Cerci, they were not so far down under the soil so that they couldn’t dig themselves out. One would truly go mad being trapped under so much earth.
Then suddenly, the ground shook violently and the thoughts of the vampires turned to sheer panic and fear. Cerci was confused; many times The Family had withstood a shaking of the earth and fear of such magnitude had never come to their minds in such a way.
Cerci could not turn his head, but the vibrations of the soil told the story of great destruction. Then the soil erupted outwards and rained back down. His flesh was free of the weight that had sat on top of him for days. A powerful voice seemed to resonate all around him.
“I will give you back your life.”
The words floated down on the wind and stunned his vampire ears. His eyelids quivered with the stress of the falling earth, his chest heaving in and out under the chains.
“Cerci, you must come back to me, my immortal High Priest. I need you by my side. I forgive your lack of judgment.”
It was not until the moment that Cerci saw him that he recognized the owner of the voice. There was a figure standing at the top of the great crater where Cerci had spent the last three nights. It was Cognatus, The Origin. He had risen only long enough to save Cerci’s life. Then he was gone, back into his slumber.
And that one act, that immortal gesture spoke more to Cerci than a lifetime of mental communication. Cerci was important to Cognatus. Cerci was never again to be harmed. The message was undeniably loud and clear.
His coffin was lifted out of the ground. There was the scraping of boots and fingers all around him. The stone box swung from side to side and then came to a halt on the earth by the gates. Dirt continued to fall from him as his chains fell free and his eyes saw the evidence of destruction that had consumed the vampire home. The stone walls lay cracked and crumbled in heaps around the lower levels of the structure. The gate had been blown clear across the compound and The Origin was back in his temple, asleep once more as if he had never risen.
Cerci was reinstated as High Priest, a standing position he knew he would never again question. He had a duty to The Family and if there was a lesson to be learned on that night, Cerci had learned it.
* * *
All the time since that night, Cerci had been thinking of Fabiana. He liked the way she wore her hair now, just long enough to hang above the middle of her back, with a few ringlets to it. And he liked its dark richness. She had always had gorgeous hair.
When Cerci had met her for the first time, so many years ago—it seemed a lifetime—he had admired the curve of her cheek and the fullness of her lips. He liked the way she looked at him and the feeling he got when he was close to her. She made him feel powerful and in control. He loved her still and he knew The Origin would soon ask something of him. He would be asked to kill the woman that he loved. He knew he could not. His love was as strong now as it has always been. But if he defied The Origin in this… he would certainly lose his life.
He knew she was in real trouble now—her problems were beyond fixing. She would have to go to the gods themselves, but he was unsure that even the gods could protect Fabiana from The Origin of Blood at this point. It wasn’t going to happen. The gods weren’t moved in the same way that creatures of the night were. Creatures like Cerci and Fabiana.
The way she looked at him was what affected him the most. Whenever she moved close to him and they held each other once again, he knew nothing had changed between them. Yes, they had grown apart in the last five hundred years, they had changed courses since she left, but the desire to be close to her was still there. Even the pain and suffering he had had to endure for her, because of her hasty action against Jizi—it was nothing compared to not being with her. There was an unfinished feeling that had lingered between them for hundreds of years now. There was a feeling of deep regret and guilt on both their parts, and now Cerci would have to face her once more. There was nothing he could do to help her but warn her, and even the simple act of warning her could draw his life to a close. Surely she must sense his peril.
He knew trouble was on its way. If The Origin of Blood discovered the truth of his lingering love for her, he would be killed at once. He had been given a second chance for his loyalty from long ago. If The Origin of Blood knew that, once again, he was questioning his duty, he would certainly be destroyed.
Cerci was a ruined thing, his heart bleeding for someone who was lost to him. And the closer their travels brought them to Seattle, the more his heart ached for Fabiana and the harder things were getting for him. The week before, they had been in England. And the month before that was Italy. And the month before that had been Scotland, where The Origin of Blood had made their new home for the last hundred years. Now it was the United States of America. Fabiana’s killings of immortals had been calling out to them for some time and The Origin of Blood had been migrating across the world looking for her.
Cerci recalled the words he had said to her. It was so long ago that he could scarcely remember the time—the ages without her all blended together.
Eat garbage if you have to. Sleep out of the light, even if you sleep in the streets. None of that really matters, but whatever you do, do not kill one of ours ever again. If you kill any other vampire, The Origin will destroy you and I will not be able to stop it from happening.
He had said those words the night she left him. The night his heart broke.
It was very cold in the entryway of the restored house. Cerci could still remember his words said in anger to the other immortals.
“Rebuild this home! It is the home of Cognatus!”
The vampires now knew they would have to rebuild the structure of the house. For if their father did awaken again, his anger would be great and each and every one of them would suffer his wrath.
Cerci looked around the room at the cold ashes and chunks of burned wood in the stone fireplace, at the wooden table under the window now overgrown by vegetation that completely blocked out the morning light. There were open entryways on either side of the room that led into other parts of the house. A tightness overcame his face as he spied the stone sarcophagus of Cognatus sitting on the floor and an altar of burning candles around him.
“Where did you slip off to?” Alastar asked.
“To feed.”
“I see…” the vampire said suspiciously.
The back bedroom was bigger than the rest of the Seattle underground house and was perfect to serve as the temple. In it was a double walnut antique bookcase decorated from floor to ceiling with candles. There were two dressers crammed against the wall to get them out of the way, a doorway led into a closet, and there, in plain view, hung a couple of lovers—alive, young, and bound by rope. Heavy tape over their lips muffled their screams. The woman stared and her eyes pleaded with Cerci as s
he hung in the darkness. But he shut the door on their light and shut the light from their life. It was his duty.
“You see, Cerci, there is no reason for you to leave now. We have brought you victims as we always have,” the Celtic vampire said. “Stay with The Origin now and don’t go to her again.”
“Don’t order me, vampire. I’m the High Priest of this clan. Not you,” Cerci responded wearily.
Then the Celtic vampire entered his mind and spoke in private to Cerci. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, Cerci, but it isn’t the truth. I can smell her on you.”
“Truth seems hard to find these days,” Cerci replied.
“Be careful. The clan is watching you. Remember what happened last time?”
“I remember you were almost destroyed for your actions against me, Alastar,” Cerci told him.
Cerci had known the risk and had taken his chances willingly when he had made contact with Fabiana after so many years. If that made him a heretic, then so be it. He wondered where Fabiana was at that moment. It was hard to keep her out of his thoughts. His face looked drawn. If he’d been human, there would have been tears in his eyes.
Cerci often suspected that his affections for her ran deeper than he could admit, even to himself. He never saw it coming and yet it conquered him at the most unexpected times. His love was no lie, not something he had merely invented to survive. And for an instant, Cerci relived the scene at the house on Blue Ridge again in his mind. That gave him a little joy at least.
252
Chapter 38
8:00 a.m., November 25
Several hours later, the city was at work again. I had just indulged in a few hours of sleep at home and woke up from the strangest of dreams. I had been dreaming of her, the vampire. It was powerfully erotic for me and certainly a first. I wasn’t one to indulge in supernatural fantasies. But this woman had worked her way into my life somehow and I couldn’t get her out of my thoughts.
I decided to take Kenny to breakfast at 13 Coins because I thought the both of us needed a break from the nightmare that we were engrossed in. It was eight in the morning when I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed my daughter’s personal cell phone. I had given her the phone so I could always get a hold of her, and for emergencies, of course.
Her mother thought Merric was too young for a cell phone, but I suspect her real problem was that she thought I was trying to steal her daughter away. Of course there were times when I seriously pondered taking Merric from Sara, but that was usually my anger talking. I never pursued it past talking with a judge when Sara and I were first getting divorced. The judge flat out told me I would never get custody of a child under the age of twelve in this state unless her mother was shooting drugs into the kid’s arm. Washington was not very friendly towards divorced fathers.
The ringing on the other end of the phone was like sirens going off in my mind. My eyes were fixed on the parking lot of the restaurant as I sat in my truck. Kenny silently waited next to me and my heart was racing impatiently. It seemed an eternity before she answered. I had almost given up when her sweet voice came into my ear and at once I was smiling again.
“Hi, Daddy.”
“Happy Thanksgiving, kiddo,” I said to her.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Daddy. I miss you.”
“I miss you too, sweetheart. I promise Uncle Kenny and I will see you soon, okay?”
“Okay, Daddy.”
“I love you,” I told her.
“I love you too.”
Then she was gone. I wondered if she would always tell me she loved me or if one day she would no longer be my little girl and it all would seem childish to her. The thought saddened me a bit as Kenny and I headed into the restaurant.
It was now Thanksgiving Day and I was stuck here on this case. I should have been with my daughter and I felt a familiar guilt creep up on me again.
A young man was cooking on a large skillet, flipping a cream sauce over pasta in front of us. We were seated at a long, dark counter with a bowl of chilled scoops of butter on one side and olive oil in a small jar on the other. Most of the tables were occupied by well-dressed men and women who probably knew little or even cared less about life outside of their own selfish desires. Who else besides me would be working on this day?
I was struck by a sense of loneliness and guilt again and I looked over at Kenny. He sipped on a cup of black coffee, his gold chain that he picked up in Mexico several years back was hanging low around his neck and his jacket was thrown over the back of his chair. He looked tired and I noticed the butt of his pistol sticking out of the waistband of his pants. We were both very tired.
Although I was glad to be in Kenny’s company, I could not share my thoughts with him. He would not understand. Exhaustion and distress—that was what I felt and knew at that moment. Even the thoughtful, heavy set, dark-skinned man beside me could do nothing to ease my mood. He stared hungrily at the grill, as if this aroma was the best thing his nose had ever experienced.
My mind was racing and I could not seem to stop the flood of thoughts that kept coming at me. That dream… that intensely erotic dream was haunting me. I could still see that woman in my mind and I swore to God I could still feel her hand on my face and the scraping of her teeth on the soft flesh on my neck. The teeth had felt so sharp. What was this power she had over me? The only image I had of her is that print-out that Devin had given me, but somehow her face was clear as day in my thoughts. I knew I could not share this with Kenny. He’d think I was going nuts! And perhaps I was. Maybe it was all in my head…
I was slowly beginning to think, just maybe, that this case was not what I thought it was. Maybe she was a vampire after all. The thought was ridiculous to me and I wanted to dismiss it at once, but somehow I just couldn’t. Then Kenny said something that completely shocked me. He said just what I had been thinking.
“Hey man, has it felt to you…” he paused, unsure if he should even say the words, “I mean, do you think it’s funny that all the evidence that has surfaced lately… has actually pointed to vampires?”
He eyed me closely for a moment and then the waiter appeared. And I couldn’t have been happier to see the man with the menus.
“What do you have that’s any good?” Kenny asked him.
The waiter did a good job of not taking any offence as he listed some impressive, tasty options for lunch, but in the end we both ordered cheese tortellini with a nice cabernet sauce and a side of meat balls. It was a strange sort of breakfast so very early in the day, but hours meant little to this place.
“This vampire lady is driving me fucking crazy, Tim,” Kenny finally said once the coast was clear.
“Have we let our senses go?” I asked him. “I mean, a few days ago I would never have been okay with this line of thinking. ‘Faulty thinking’, I would have called it.”
“I don’t know, man. But nothing is adding up. I don’t even know what our next step is going to be,” Kenny said, and he had a look I had not seen in a great many years. It was the look of utter frustration.
We had everything to lose. We didn’t need the FBI or any vampire talk putting dents in our reputations. We already had more than our share of dents in our records, unfairly inflicted, and Jack knew that. Maybe that was the whole idea—he needed someone he could control.
Our partnership had not helped. Kenny and I had refused to work with anyone else in the department more than once, and it had been anything but good for our status in the force. Unkind comments and homosexual jokes in the locker rooms had been something we had heard once or twice but we never took it to heart. However, the rumors did hurt our careers and Jack knew it. I was certain he was using us. I smelled the distinct odor of politics and the last thing I wanted to be was some pawn in someone’s agenda.
I tried to focus on the current situation. Our food was wonderful and it would have been easy to sit for hours eating the restaurant’s fresh bread that would never stop coming. But I needed to get to my ex-wife’s
house at some point to find that dog. I was tired beyond belief. My mood was built upon many layers of guilt and fatigue that had grown over the last few weeks. No, years, really.
I needed to get to my daughter and see her. I missed her and I felt bad about not really having the time to be with her on this holiday. In fact, something always seemed to come up when I had time with Merric. I had to change that. I needed to make more of an effort to see her or soon I would miss the boat and she wouldn’t care to see me anymore.
I paid the check and on the way out I asked Kenny if he didn’t mind if we could swing by and look for Zakk.
There was an immense downpour of rain as we climbed into my truck.
“Of course I don’t mind. Let’s go,” he said, and I kicked my engine over. My wipers worked as fast as they could but were still unable to sweep away the beating, heavy Seattle rain.
Sara’s house was a well-maintained country home in a sweet neighborhood where people seemed to genuinely like one another. There was evidence of well-loved children everywhere. Colorful toys and bikes, a basketball hoop, and duel swing sets greeted us as we drove through the block I had come to know well over the years.
The old house always made me cold now, no matter how much I used to love living there. I blamed the phenomenon on a hard marriage and a history that plagued the hard wood floors and high ceilings with screaming and yelling. My ex met us with crossed arms and a hundred-yard stare.
Just like old times, I told myself.
I shot Kenny a glance that told him what I had been thinking and followed Sara as she walked us into the house as if she was giving us a tour of a museum. As if I needed it. I practically built this fucking place and now it was her home. She got the house in the divorce. God, I really hated that bitch and the way she raised my kid. I hated the child support I paid her every month. As if she needed it. Her new man made twice what I did—he worked for Microsoft so she didn’t even work now. Of course, Merric was still on state insurance. I really should report Sara for that since she was listed on the new man’s work insurance, but not her child.
The Blood Born Tales (Book 1): Blood Collector Page 16