As the night went on the two embraced on the dance floor, swaying in time with the distant voice of Mickey singing Jazzing on a Sunday. At the end of the night, after everyone had gone home, Michael met with Mickey Blue, introducing him to Serena and Jackie.
“Mickey, another fantastic performance my man,” said Michael, impressed.
“Ah Mike, what can I say, going into business with you has been the best thing I’ve ever done. Ever since the Scarfos’ shut down my old club, I never thought I’d be in the night club business again,” said Mickey Blue, shaking hands in agreement.
“I’d like you to meet my girl Serena and my best friend Jackie,” said Michael.
“A pleasure,” said Jackie shaking Mickey Blue’s hand.
“May I just give you a kiss for that beautiful sound earlier,” said Serena.
“Sure honey, an old guy like me needs a little sugar now and then,” Mickey Blue joked as Serena kissed him on the check.
“So tell me Mickey, where is Isabelle? I want to congratulate her on a great job she did tonight,” Michael smiled.
“Sure, she’s upstairs in her dressing room. She’ s ready to call it a night; you better go see her now if you still want to catch her.”
Serena gave Michael a look of disapproval, and then smiling said, “Go ahead, I won’t be jealous.”
Michael went up to Isabelle’s dressing room while the others continued to talk downstairs. He knocked on Isabelle’s door. “Come in,” she called. “Issy girl, you killed them tonight. You’re going to put this club through the roof,” said Michael as he came up behind her to rub her back.
“Mikey, ever since we were kids you’ve always called me that,” said Isabelle, teasing.
“I love you like family, what can I say?”
Isabelle sat feeling a little depressed, looking at Michael with sad eyes, “I wish you could love me the way I do you. Who’s the new girl, by the way?”
“Her name’s Serena, and what’s that supposed to mean?” Michael asked, a little uncomfortably. “Nothing. I just wish you and me could spend some more time together,” Isabelle pouted.
“Look Isabelle, you know I’ve always cared about you like a sister. What we had a long time ago was good, but things are different now.”
“I just miss you sometimes, that’s all.”
“I know, but it’s not going to happen. Ever since Katrina died I’ve looked at you differently; you and she were so much alike, and every time we were alone and I looked into your eyes all I could see was her. Besides, you have Bobby Scarfo. He loves you deeply, you know that,” said Michael.
“I know, I love him but not the same way I love you.”
“Please try to accept the way things are now,” said Michael.
Giving him a little smile, she hugged him and wished him goodnight. Just before leaving, Michael handed her a gift of 2,000 bucks as a bonus for her performance.
After Michael shut the door behind him, Isabelle fell to the floor and began crying with longing for the man she’d once had. Michael felt sadness creep into his gut as he walked downstairs but cheered up upon seeing Serena’s smile. After wishing good night to Mickey, they all went home to sleep the night away.
A day later Frank Watson checked out of the hospital early. The doctor approached Frank with a sad look. “I’m sorry Frank, we tried all we could, but Mr. Harris just let go. I guess the impact of the car crash was too much on his system. He died last night. We didn’t want to tell you until you were ready to go back on duty,” said the doctor. Frank lost it and stormed out of the hospital in anger. Without thinking, he ran to the parking lot, and began crying. “Bastards! I’m going to find those sons of bitches and I’m going to bust them one way or another,” raged Frank, he then called a taxi to go the police station. Upon entering headquarters he saw that the station was a wreck and that investigation teams were looking over the place. “What the hell happened in here Jim?” Frank asked an officer just coming into the room.
“We had a robbery here last night. The strange thing is, nobody who was here last night remembers a thing, not seeing anyone, nothing. I just came in this morning and found the place like this; the other officers and the commissioner who were here last night were taken to the hospital, but were released this morning. They just got back. Physically they weren’t harmed, but they don’t remember a thing,” Officer Jim Maceson repeated. “You’ve got to be kidding me. The place looks blown to hell and no one remember zip,” barked Frank in surprise.
“I’m sorry to hear about Jack. Joe told me the doctor broke the news to him when he was at the hospital checking up on you guys,” said Jim.
“Forget about it. Did the cameras pick up anything?” asked Frank.
“Nothing, unfortunately,” said Jim.
“Damn it. Jim I got a hunch who did this, I got to go.” Frank took off out the door.
Frank began to check the computer system in his squad car for any businesses registered under the name of Damascus; the only one he found was Damascus and Son, Tailors.
Frank sped off to the tailor shop. Joseph Damascus, the owner of the store, was just finishing tailoring a pair of slacks when Frank barreled in. “Detective Frank Watson, Las Vegas PD.”
“Officer, what’s wrong?” asked Joseph.
“What’s wrong is my partner is dead because of you,” yelled Frank in anger, slamming the old man on a table and positioning his oversized factory style sewing machine with a needle coming down so that it would cut up his face.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about; I’ve been here all week! Oh sweet Jesus!!” screamed Joseph.
“He’s right, let him go, I was with him working the shop,” said a young boy, coming up front from the back of the store.
“Peter! Stay out of this son,” yelled the old man.
“No! Let my papa go,” protested Peter.
Frank freed the old man just before he could be injured. “Then who else by the name of Damascus could it be old coot?” demanded Frank.
“My older son Michael, that low down, mob hustling bum,” said Joseph.
“Who?” Frank asked.
“Years ago, my son used to hang around a bunch of thugs, wise guy bums; he never listened to me and he got pinched once for breaking and entering but the police couldn’t find enough evidence to get him convicted so they let him go. Afterwards, he joined the armed services with his sister. Two years ago it was reported to us that she was killed on a mission. Our son was said to be missing, and we haven’t seen him since.” Joseph paused to catch his breath from the all the excitement.
“It has to be him. Some joker mentioned his name and was killed right before my eyes,” said Frank.
“I’d bet, if anything, he’s probably still alive,” said Joseph.
“Got a picture of this guy?”
Peter handed Frank a picture of a man in his late twenties, dressed in army uniform.
“Do you think he would come here to Vegas?” asked Frank.
“I wouldn’t doubt it, he and his low life friends used to stay here in town before he left for active duty.”
“Thanks. Sorry about the ruffling up,” said Frank as he tossed a hundred dollar bill at the old man and took off out the door.
For days Frank searched every shady place he could think of and for days he found nothing. “I’ll find you, you son of a bitch and when I do, you’re dead,” vowed Frank.
But Michael always remembered to cover his tracks and Frank couldn’t do anything but bide his time.
Late one night, Michael was called up for a meeting with Don Santerini and Serena stepped out to do some shopping for their home. Michael brought his mentor the Don a very special tribute.
“My boy, you never cease to amaze me,” said Don Felice.
“50,000 dollars in tribute, a gift to you Don Felice,” said Michael.
“Jackie has told me good things about you and your girl,” said Don Felice, smiling.
“It’s always a pleasure to
work for you.” Michael shook his boss’s hand.
“I’m proud of how you handled that little unannounced job you pulled the other night,” said Don Felice.
“We got rid of the evidence, and the cops don’t remember a thing,” said Michael.
“I would still be watchful son,” cautioned Don Felice.
“What do you mean?” inquired Michael.
“Word from the street is that some hot-headed cop has it in for you. He roughed up some of our disloyal associates.”
“What?”
“An unfortunate mistake,” sighed Don Felice. “Do you want me to take care of these rats?” questioned Michael firmly.
“No. They’ve already been dealt with, but go and put this pugnacious pig out of his misery; he makes the organization look bad. We can’t have two-cent coppers walking all over us, can we?”
“But Felice, I can’t, he’s a cop,” said Michael.
“Do it, kill him and put him in a casket,” said Don Felice.
“But to whack a cop – the media will be all over us if they find out.”
“Don’t worry. We’ve paid most of the media off.”
”I still have reservations about this,” said Michael.
“Doesn’t matter. We can’t have this dick meddling around in our business. If you let this guy go, you’ll be the one in a body bag, get me?” said Don Felice, frowning.
“Yeah,” said Michael.
“Our guys have seen him every night around 9 pm at Sammy’s Bar.”
“Very well, I’ll remove him discreetly,” Michael reluctantly agreed.
Meanwhile, in a grimy old apartment bedroom, Duval cleaned his pistols with a thin gun brush, waiting until he got the call. Franco had one of his thugs from the warehouse incident spot Serena and take her picture. A half-hour later, a knock on the door announced the arrival of the photo of Duval’s new target. “Pretty piece of ass,” said Duval as he inhaled on a joint, blowing the smoke into a cloud and watching as the smoke thinned out in the room. “Too bad this bitch has to go,” he said, smiling sickly as he burned a hole through the photograph with his joint and then stamped out the charred photo on the ground. Pushing the clips into his pistol and grabbing his light, long coat he said to himself “Time to die, girly.” He slammed the door shut and set out to find his prey.
Duval drove aimlessly around the city looking for his victim until he caught sight of Serena heading home on Otis Way, back from a wine store with a special present for her lover, a bottle of expensive champagne to commemorate their one month anniversary of being together. Duval stepped out of his car, following far behind Serena, but she could smell his human scent. She smiled to herself and slipped into an alleyway and hid in the dark shadows between the dimly lit street lamps.
“What the fuck?” said Duval as he walked closer to the corner and slid against the wall to peek and aim his gun in the alleyway. He saw nothing in the dark. “Where did she go?” said Duval under his breath.
“Right here, big boy,” said Serena as she flashed out from the shadow and grabbed Duval, shredding his face with her claws, looking into his eyes as hers glowed. She put him in a trance, and then kissed him before she gnawed on his neck, draining him of blood until he fell to ground. Weak, Duval pulled out his pistol to shoot, but Serena stomped on his arm, breaking it and his shoulder while pinning him down. She grabbed his gun and shot him in the head. Blood poured out of his skull like the waterspout of a statue, and Duval lay dead to the sidewalk. Serena dragged his bloodstained corpse to a part in the dark alley to let the other vampires in the area feed off his remains.
Chapter 27: “Kill the Pig”
Thursday at 9 pm, Frank Watson had just finished his evening shift. He was tired and frustrated, so he decided to head over to Sammy’s Bar for a drink. He couldn’t get over the fact that finding his suspect now seemed impossible. At 9:30 he was heading out the door of the bar to be picked up by his wife and young son when the sound of gunshots came from the roof. Frank instinctively fell to the ground, cocking his pistol with fear and looking around. Just seconds before Frank’s family arrived on the scene, Michael pulled the trigger on his sniper rifle. The bullet went straight through Frank’s heart, killing him instantly. The car stopped at the curb and his young son jumped out, running to his daddy and crying, as Frank’s wife screamed with shock. Michael’s face went white with shock. He dropped the rifle, seeing the young kid and wife screaming while he stood motionless. “What have I done!” said Michael as he jumped from the roof onto his hover bike and headed back to his pad.
Serena was worried as she looked out the window in Michael’s pad.
“What have I done!” again said Michael. He began to lose it, breaking down in tears, his mind swarming with the guilt, the voices again tormenting him. “Murderer, so much for your honor, join us in death, angel of death you are, in death you’re ours,” said the voices in his mind.
“NO! NO!” screamed Michael as he crashed his hover bike into a guardrail, flying over as it exploded on the highway. Michael fell off the overpass.
Serena sensed her lover was in danger and teleported him from the crash, to bring him home safely. Still in shock and grief from his actions, Serena put him in bed to rest.
For two days Michael heard strange sounds and evil laughs throughout the air, as his mind and body pulsed with incredible pain. His eyes began to turn white and he had convulsions, coughing up blood. He felt worthless and he wanted to die. Grabbing the knife that he always kept in his room, Michael slit one of his wrists. The blood dripped and then disappeared as his wound instantly healed; Serena came into the room and saw what he was doing. “What the hell are you doing, Michael!”
“I want to end this, I can’t take seeing their faces anymore, all the people I’ve killed, I see them, so much blood.”
“Michael! Don’t you dare do this. I love you! Are you out of your mind?” screamed Serena with fear.
“Maybe,” said Michael. Then he stood motionless and it stopped. The pain left him. Michael came back to himself. He felt very weak and desperate to feed.
Serena took him to a part of the city that was perfect for hunting, where a few scumbags would be easy pickings. Two drug dealers were selling crack to a young kid. Michael’s insane hunger went wild and he killed them, draining their life force dry, except for the kid, whom he let go, remembering the face of Watson’s little boy.
Falling to the ground Michael began to weep at the monster he had truly become. Serena had forgotten the curse that came along with the dark gift. Many vampires became bitter or cruel or insane, or even suicidal.
Back at the crime scene where Watson had been killed, Commissioner Hamilton saw the forensics team studying evidence while the coroner packed up the body in a van. In anger she vowed in her heart, “We won’t rest until every one of these mob bastards is taken down.”
After consoling Watson’s family, the Commissioner called the FBI; when they heard the story the Feds agreed to help.
Once the reporters had finished at the scene, Commissioner Hamilton put a call in on her car radio. “This is Commissioner Hamilton. I want officers sweeping the scene, no one gets in or out.”
“Copy that,” said the officer on down the line.
“God, who could have done this?” Commissioner Hamilton looked downhearted as she saw the forensics people zip up Watson’s corpse in a bag and load it into the van, closing the vehicle doors behind them.
Across town in the dark shadows of a subterranean grotto lit by burning torches, two vampires were looking at the beauty of the city at night through a shimmering pool of water in a fountain, seeing mortals come and go, one of them a beautiful young blonde, another with the dark beauty of the orient.
“You want to be like them, don’t you?” said the Asian vampire.
“Who wouldn’t? When you live forever life can be quite boring,” said Scarlet the blonde one.
The other looked on the murals on the walls, murals that showed the race of t
he undead, images of men in dark robes slaughtering vampires, one showing a man in a black with long hair dueling with another man.
“You don’t believe the one will come to end this war, do you?” said Marianna the Asian, looking at the mural.
“Maybe the prophecy is just a lie, or a dream,” replied the blonde one.
Suddenly the Asian vampire fell to the ground shaking violently in a trance, her blue eyes burning white-hot.
“Marianna!” screamed the blonde as she saw her sister enter a deep trance. The Asian vampire experienced a vision of terror, a man in black with long hair dressed in a black coat, fighting a dark figure in a black cloak that bore the face of a red dragon.
The Asian vampire grew silent as the trance left her.
“What did you see?” urged the blonde.
“The chosen one has come. He will be a great warrior, fallen, fallen to be chosen to rise again to grace,” said the Asian vampire.
Helping her sister up, the blonde vampire said, “Tell our Lord, he must know this immediately.” The two left the chamber. A dark mist flowed out of the shadows and red eyes appeared everywhere. A deep, resigned laughter echoed and then the shadow beings fled through the cracks in the walls.
Chapter 28: “An Old Friend”
For days Michael locked himself away in his room as Serena wept. The guilt from all the killings he had committed was too much, from his years in the CIA up to the present. In the back of his mind he could still hear the screams of his victims begging him to let them live. Michael felt worthless. He wanted to die. He had terrifying nightmares of past assassin missions where he saw his victims being killed and tortured brutally; their eyes were plucked out by CIA agents. As the nightmares continued, Michael found himself in a dark plain of caves, where alien creatures full of teeth and fangs flourished made of fish bodies that stunk like rotting garbage. In the underground scum ponds the he saw bubbling lakes of green and blue blood, giant demon leeches that had human faces; these creatures tormented him by tearing his flesh apart and draining him of his blood. He saw himself turn into a hideous slithering beast with three heads. Then, a huge earthquake occurred, causing a chasm to open up; Michael fell into a deep pool of burning oil and fire.
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