The Hunger

by Dandridge Doug

  The fear left the eyes of the priest. Marcus could feel the man’s will break free of his.

  “I will never serve your master,” said the priest in a strong voice. “I will never be as you, no matter what you do to me this night.”

  Marcus smiled at the naiveté of the priest. The man had his courage. But courage could not stand against the power of an elder vampire, and the contagion he would infect the mortal with.

  Marcus reared his head back, then thrust forward like a striking snake. His fangs struck the flesh and pierced into the underlying vein. His lips molded to the flesh of the neck, as he sucked the lifeblood of the mortal into his mouth.

  No, thought Marcus as the pain shot through his mouth. A hot agony that burned like the rays of the sun. He could feel the flesh of his mouth sizzling under the heat. Some burned into his throat, and he coughed and hacked, trying to bring it out before it burned through to his heart. He is truly a Holy Man. Deadly to our kind.

  Marcus pulled his head away and spit the burning fluid from his mouth. He could feel the flames licking at his lips as the blood flew out in a burning stream to the ground. Marcus looked at the priest with hate and fear in his eyes. He tried to throw the man from him, but the strength had left his arms and he felt like the child now. O’Connor grabbed at the vampire’s arms, trying to hold him now.

  Marcus pulled away with the last of his strength, stumbling back. The vampire continued to spit up the blood that was burning him, his face a mask of agony. Escape was all that was now on Marcus’ mind. He turned on his heel and ran into the night, staggering and stumbling from the pain.

  Marcus ran for almost a mile, feeling the pain receding as he put distance between himself and the priest. He reached his hands up to his face as he regained his composure. The finger touched burned flesh, and came back to his vision covered in blood as he brought them back down.

  He is untouchable to me, thought the vampire. He was truly a holy man, and not just a pretender as are so many of his kind. And she is protected as long as he is with her.

  Marcus walked into the night, following the scent of a mortal that would yield to his embraces this night. He spotted her ahead of him on the dirty street. A whore, walking the night looking for business. Just the thing to wash the holy stench from his mouth, and heal him body and soul.

  * * *

  “Are you OK?” asked O’Connor, walking over to Lucinda as she struggled up from the ground.

  Lucinda looked up at the priest and saw that he was holding one hand over the part of his neck where Marcus had bitten him. A little bit of blood seeped between his fingers, and Lucinda felt a surge of hunger at seeing and smelling the vital fluid.

  “I’ll live,” she replied, pulling herself to her feet. She could feel the bones were almost knit, the healing almost completed. But the healing had taken much of her energy, and she felt very weak.

  “Maybe that was a bad choice of words,” she said with a smile. “Seeing as I’m not alive.”

  “What happened to him?” asked O’Connor, pulling his hand away from his neck wound and looking at his bloody fingers. The wound had stopped bleeding, though the neck still looked like a bloody mess.

  “You are truly a holy man,” said Lucinda in a hushed voice. “Do you know how rare your kind is?” she said in a strengthening tone.

  “There are a lot of priests walking the Earth,” said O’Connor, looking into her eyes. “Are you saying that all of them are immune to the attacks of vampires?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “The great majority of the clergy are just as susceptible to the forces of evil as any other mortal. You are special. You have done something special that elevated you in the eyes of God.”

  “Giving up the Bishopric,” said the priest. “And turning down the chance of elevation to Cardinal.”

  “So you turned down power to do what you thought was your holy calling,” said the vampire. “Do you know how rare a quality that is? Selfless and self-sacrificing.”

  Lucinda stumbled as she walked from the tree. O’Connor reached out to help steady her, then removed his hands as he saw the pain that his touch brought to her.

  “You are not as evil as the others,” he said to her. “Shouldn’t you have some kind of immunity to things that are holy?”

  “I guess it doesn’t work that way,” she replied, trying to straighten up. “I am a creature of the night, no matter my motivations. So I have the weaknesses of a creature of the night.”

  “Not one that I intend to hunt anymore,” said the priest. “I’ll still go after ones like that bastard that bit me. But you are inviolate to me.”

  Lucinda smiled, then grimaced as a wave of weariness swept over her.

  “You need blood,” said the priest, a statement of fact. “Would that I could give you some of mine, for what you have done for me tonight.”

  “I don’t want my mouth bursting into flame,” said Lucinda, smiling at the priest. “And I make it a point to never taste the blood of the innocent.”

  “I’m not sure how innocent I am,” said the priest, “no matter how holy you think I am. I…”

  “Freeze,” yelled out a voice in the night. O’Conner turned his head slightly, just enough to see the black woman who had walked out of the shadows, a gun held before her.

  “Here we go again,” said O’Connor out of the side of his mouth. “And the question is, whose side is she on?”

  * * *

  Detective Tanesha Washington had come along too late to catch much of whatever excitement had happened in the vacant lot. The sounds of yelling and gunshots had brought her here, wishing the whole time she could get in touch with Agent Jeffrey DeFalco. But he had not answered her on the radio, and she was afraid that the perpetrators would be gone if she waited for Tampa PD backup.

  She recognized the priest, O’Connor she thought his name was, standing in the open lot. The woman looked familiar, and something about her raised the small hairs on the back of the detective’s neck. The vampire? she thought. The one they had been looking for? Then why was she with the priest who had sworn to destroy her? And why did the priest do nothing but stand there talking to her.

  “Freeze,” she called out to the people as she walked out of the shadows on the edge of the lot, holding her automatic in a two handed grip to cover both people. “Tampa PD. Don’t move a muscle.”

  The priest turned his head a bit and then said something out of the corner of his mouth to the woman. Tanesha was nervous enough to shoot, but kept enough control to notice that the man had not moved his hands.

  “Don’t you move either, lady,” the detective called out as the woman turned a bit to see her. “You may think you are bullet proof, but I’ve got something in this gun to make you change your mind.”

  Just shoot her, thought Washington as she looked down the gun barrel at the beautiful woman. She’s not human, so why are you treating her like one? But years of police work had driven it into her mind to not shoot a suspect that was covered and obeying the officer’s commands.

  She didn’t even see the vampire move. One instant the woman was lined up with the pistol. The next she was standing in front and slightly to the side of the detective. A strong hand clamped down on Washington’s, holding the gun in place. The detective shuddered as red eyes looked into hers. It felt as if the eyes were burning into her soul.

  Tanesha Washington found herself staring at the creature in fascination, feeling a slight thrill of fear as she focused on the sharp canines within the vampire’s mouth. She’s going to kill me, thought the detective. I should have shot while I had the chance, and now it’s too late.

  “She’s a good guy,” said the priest. “I recognize her now.”

  “I can see within her,” said the vampire in a faraway voice. “You are correct. She is an innocent and on the side of good. So I will release her.”

  The vampire stared again into Washington’s eyes, boring into the soul of the woman. “I could have killed you in
an instant. Remember that when I release you.”

  Then the vampire was gone into the night, a blur that Washington was not sure she actually saw. She looked around her in shock for a moment, then focused on the priest who had moved over to her. She lowered her gun as she stared open mouthed at the man.

  “She is not your enemy,” said the priest. Washington could see that he had been bleeding from the neck and pointed.

  “Another of her kind,” said O’Connor, rubbing his hand over the wound. “One without her sense of honor.”

  “She’s still a murderer,” said Washington, looking out into the darkness but seeing no trace of the woman.

  “Only to those who truly deserve their punishment,” said the priest.

  “I thought the church did not believe in killing,” said the detective. “In any form.”

  “It is a sin for a human being to kill another,” agreed the priest. “She is no longer human. Would you kill a wolf for bringing down a deer?”

  “We’re not talking about deer here Father,” said Washington. “We’re talking about people.”

  “You sound as if you are not so sure anymore, my child,” said the priest.

  “But I sure as hell am,” came the angry voice of a man from the night. Jeffrey Defalco stepped into the light, his gun in his hand as he searched the darkness. “Did you see her?”

  “She was here,” said Washington, looking at the man as if she had never seen him before, still trying to recover from the shock. “She was in my face before I could react. And then she was gone.”

  “You’re lucky she didn’t kill you outright,” said the FBI man.

  “I don’t think she would have,” said Washington, her voice low. “I felt that she meant me no harm.”

  “As she means you no harm, Agent DeFalco,” said the priest, looking into the eyes of the agent. “As she means none of us harm who do not prey upon our fellow man.”

  “What the hell happened here?” growled the agent. “I thought you were as determined to destroy her as anything. And what happened to my partner here?”

  “A great deal of learning,” said the priest, nodding his head as Washington looked at him. “I have learned that she is not my target. And I had better leave well enough alone. As should you, Agent DeFalco.”

  “Bullshit,” said DeFalco, shaking his head violently. “She’s an unnatural monster and she needs someone to take her out. And I’m the someone.”

  “Then I’ll pray for you, agent,” said the priest, looking intently at the man. “I’ll pray that you purge the unreasoning hate from your soul, as have I.”

  “Pray for her soul, father,” said DeFalco, turning away from the priest. “Because I’m going to send it to Hell, if it’s the last thing I do on this earth.”

  Chapter 11

  George Padillas could feel the hunger gnawing at him as his awareness returned. He opened his eyes to almost total darkness as he reached his hands out before him and touched the cloth covering the top of the box. He pushed gently and the lid of the coffin rose. Padillas breathed a mental sigh of relief that he had not been buried. So far everything seemed to be going according to plan.

  The bright lights of the room blinded his supernatural night vision for a moment. Then his eyes adjusted to the light and he saw that he was in his own bedroom, the coffin occupying a section of the floor in front of the big bed. As he sat up in the coffin he saw Manny scramble up from his seat on the other side of the bed and walk quickly over to the coffin.

  “Is everything OK, Mr. Padillas?” asked the head man of the house, his eyes nervously moving over Padillas’ form.

  “I feel different,” said the boss, lifting himself out of the box with his arms. “I feel much stronger. And everything seems to be sharper to my senses. Eyes, ears, and especially smell.”

  As he talked he could hear the heart beating in Manny, the blood flowing through his veins. He could smell the sweet red fluid in the man, the fluid that he craved. He drove the thought from his mind for a moment as he concentrated on his own body.

  “There’s no pain,” he said with a grin. “For the first time in years there’s no pain in my guts. I’m cured. Or at least as cured as a dead guy can get.”

  “You look really good for a dead guy, boss,” said Manny, his eyes still darting from the boss to the door to the bedroom.

  “What’s wrong, Manny?” said Padillas, sensing that the man was very nervous by the smell of him. “What did you let happen? No one knows about me, do they?”

  “No sir,” said Manny, shaking his head. “As far as the world knows you are still alive and well. No one will know anything when you show up again, except that you were on your boat out in the Gulf. I even sent it out for a couple of days so people wouldn’t see it at the marina.”

  “So what the fuck are you afraid to tell me, Manny?” said Padillas, his eyes boring into the other man’s. The new vampire could feel the man’s will resist his for a moment, then crumble under the assault.

  “Did she get away from you, you shithead?”

  “I’m sorry, boss,” stammered Manny. “The priest got to her and let her out of the house. And she got him out.”

  “So the priest and the other vampire know about me, huh,” growled Padillas. “So your statement about the world not knowing a thing was a fucking lie, huh.”

  “The priest won’t be a problem, boss,” said Manny, wiping the sweat from his face with a handkerchief. “He might tell some people in the church, but I didn’t think you would be going to church anyway.”

  “And what about Lucinda?” asked Padillas, standing over the man, feeling his anger grow at the thought of his Lieutenant’s incompetence. “She can have my ass if she gets to me.”

  “We’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen,” Manny said in a squeaky voice.

  Padillas’ anger faded for a moment as he drank in the fear the other man was feeling. Fear that I’m causing, thought the boss with a smile.

  “Are you hungry, boss?” asked the man. Padillas could feel the fear and knew that the other man was trying to get his mind off the subject. Padillas could feel the hunger come back into awareness as the question was asked.

  “I’ve got a girl here for you, Mr. Padillas,” said the man, trying to avoid the vampire’s eyes. “Just like you talked about before you, you know, turned.”

  Padillas could feel the hunger like a driving force, trying to push all other thoughts out of his mind. He pushed it back down for a second as he thought about what he needed to do.

  “I’ll eat later,” said the boss to his underling. “Now let’s go to my office and go over the business.”

  Manny breathed out and looked like most of the stress that had been eating at him drained out of his body. He stood up, walked to the door and led Padillas into the hall. They walked down the hall and into the living room, the boss throwing greetings at his soldiers, they giving nervous responses back.

  Well, what did I expect, he thought. They know I died. And here I am back from the grave. They know what happened, but it still has to feel unnatural to them. But not to George Padillas. It felt perfectly natural to him to be walking in this body, feeling strong and fit, with none of the agony that the cancer had visited upon his life. In fact living with the pain of the cancer had been unnatural.

  Crossing the living room and walking down the other wing’s hallway, the two men came to Padillas’ office. Manny opened the door and gestured for the boss to enter. Padillas walked into the large, sumptuous office and looked around, feeling right at home at the heart of his empire. An empire I can rule for a thousand years, he thought. Untouchable by my rivals, or the law.

  As the door closed he turned to Manny and smiled, and the man smiled back, visibly relieved to be back in the boss’ good graces. The smile left Padillas’ face and he turned a baleful eye on the man, pushing with his will against the weaker will of the mortal.

  “You failed me Manny,” he hissed, his face turning into a fierce ma
sk. He reached out with his hands that had become talons and grasped the man by the shirt. “A simple task, to get rid of the priest and a creature that was trapped. And you failed me.”

  Manny grabbed Padillas’ wrists with his strong hands and tried to pull the vampire off of him. Padillas knew that Manny was very strong, a weightlifter all of his life. And now it felt as if a weak child were trying to pull his hands away.

  “You will never fail me again,” said Padillas, pulling the man close. The vampire opened his mouth, feeling the sharp fangs slide against his lips. Then he thrust his head out, aiming his teeth for the tender skin of the neck. The teeth cut easily into the flesh. Manny tried to pull his neck away, to push his head back. But the vampire dug in like a bulldog and ripped open the vein.

  Padillas placed his lips over the open wound and let the blood flood into his mouth. The blood tasted sweet and salty at the same time, and he could feel an energy he had never felt from any other food. The man’s life force was flowing out with the blood, infusing the vampire’s body with strength and vitality. Erasing the hunger that had been driving Padillas wild.

  Manny relaxed as the vampire fed. Padillas had heard of this power. That a feeding vampire actually took control of the prey through the actual pleasure of feeding. Strange that something that would kill a man would feel good. He pulled the flowing blood down his throat, then started sucking with force as the flow diminished. Soon he was supporting Manny in his grip as the man’s legs buckled.

  Padillas could hear Manny’s heart begin to slow, to struggle in its effort to pump blood as the pressure dropped. It skipped a beat as the vampire was struggling to pull more blood from the neck. With a final series of strong beats the heart stopped, and Padillas could feel the lifelessness of the body he held. Padillas let go of the body as he stepped back, watching as it fell slack muscled to the floor.

  “You wanted to live forever too,” he said to the wide eyed corpse lying on the floor. “You wanted to revel in the power that I offered.”