by Mlyn Hurn
Still he was a short distance away when the second plane hit, and then the collapse. The influx of energy had struck him like a barrage of bullets riddling his body, each one making him stronger and more powerful than he could have imagined. It was as if every single atom of his body had been hit, energized and in the aftermath, his system was overloaded. Instead of feeling the benefit immediately, he couldn’t function beyond minimal levels for several days. Damon finally decided he’d been over-stimulated and his cells needed to stop quivering in reaction. Slowly, he realized his new power.
As soon as he felt strong enough though, he did call Darien using the cellular number.
He was careful in what he revealed, mostly because of Darien’s tendencies to jump in headfirst with many of his interests during their childhood. Darien sympathized with him and marveled at his ability to survive. At this point in time, Darien revealed he had already seen the advantage of absorbing the life force from his victim, but only taking it partway. With the help of a doctor, he made use of Fauster’s last good innovation—the cloning of red blood cells and the subsequent creation of whole blood that was clean and could be given without rejection complications. Thus, Darien could drain a victim to near-death and then have them restored for use again.
The only drawback, or so it had appeared to Darien, was that even a constant victim became useless after a while because the fear of death disappeared. Being kept as a virtual prisoner, used as food on two levels, drained a human of more than just his blood and his life force. It drained him of his will to live and his human essence that made him hunger for more than just food, water, sleep and dwelling.
Once you brought a person to his lowest level, his essences became diminished and their power when released didn’t burn as brightly or as cleanly. Darien didn’t purposely kill his donors, but their ability to fulfill lessened appreciably over time. Damon had also heard a rumor that if used too often, one of these life energy sources could also turn deadly for the user.
Damon had been aware of some of what Darien was doing, but since he had chosen to leave Transylvania more than twenty years earlier and seek more in his life, he did not know the extent to which Darien was maintaining his stable of life force contributors. Instinctively, he knew to keep his discovery a secret.
One day, Darien called to report he’d been involved in an automobile accident.
“Damn! Are you okay, Darien? What happened?” Damon asked quickly, concern for his twin surfacing quickly.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. That’s not why I called you… well, it is in a way. I was hit by this other car, and four people in it were killed.”
Damon had frozen at his brother’s words. He didn’t need to hear more. No doubt, his brother had experienced his first compound dose of Sudden Death Syndrome.
“I think you must have been in the wrong place, or it was just too much for you, Damon. But I absorbed all that energy and the rush is unbelievable!”
The excitement and drive in Darien’s voice had scared him. Damon chose to lie and told his brother there had been nothing—no reaction to his being at Ground Zero whatsoever. He downplayed it, hoping that would be all for Darien.
For Damon, it didn’t stop there. His second coincidental occurrence for transference of sudden death essence was when he was in South America working as a freelance journalist about the changes happening there. The destruction of the rainforests had continued for too many years so that when a drought arrived, lasting nearly a year in Chile, the land was unprepared for spring. As usual with the weather, the long dry spell ended with torrential rainstorms and record amounts of rainfall.
The dry land loosened and diminished vegetation did little to slow the water. Dams broke, both natural and manmade, and water raced towards the city at the base of the mountainous territory. In less than twelve hours, more than ten thousand had died, and over the following days, another ten thousand followed.
Damon found that just being in the area, he was able to achieve the “alchemy” for conversion. The power suffused him more than any bloodsucking or drinking had ever done. Even the psychic draining episodes he engaged in, especially in large groups and during college classes, couldn’t compare with the mind-blowing experience one sudden death syndrome event might produce.
Damon had soon discovered a downside, just as with most things that seem almost too good to be true. Finding a sudden death syndrome of any magnitude would always be a hit-or-miss thing. One day he found himself watching a television report on a plane crash, but instead of commiserating with the surviving family members, his attention had turned to how he might predict such an event. That’s when he stopped cold turkey.
Without explaining why, he had prodded his father about settling down permanently. Instead of just managing Club Hell Fire, his father deeded it to him. Club Hell Fire had always suited his temperament, leaving a fair amount of free time to pursue his education.
His father’s voice drew his thoughts back to the present.
“Darien’s passage through the corridor disrupted the balance. Jordan and Darien believe that in returning through the Arcturian passage with the stored essence, a balance between light and dark can be restored.”
Damon nodded. It surprised him to hear that Darien had pursued the power to that degree. “What kinds of events was Darien attending?”
Simon nodded. “The first he said was an accident. He was in Beijing, waiting to catch a flight home. It was April 2002, and an Air China Boeing 767 crashed into the nearby hillside, killing one hundred and fifteen. Darien said he saw the fireball, and he was struck almost immediately with the surge of power.”
Damon shrugged, but prodded his father to continue. “Were there more air crashes?”
“Yeah, three more in May 2002. I questioned him and he swore that he had nothing to do with them. Instead, he used Dargon to foretell the future, finding disasters. It appears they had quite a modicum of success, if you care to call it that. There was one in Nigeria, and two more involving Air China. The last listed two hundred and twenty-five dead.”
“What did he do next? The totals obviously were escalating, and he would have begun to notice the differences.”
“He got lucky… his words, not mine. September that same year, a ferry capsized off Gambia and more than eighteen hundred people drowned. In February 2003, an Iranian military plane crashed into the Sirach Mountains and two hundred and seventy-six were lost.” Simon leaned forward, propping his elbows on his thighs.
“I’m sure he was by now growing frustrated at the inability to predict with accuracy the next large sudden death occurrence,” Damon rationalized out loud.
“He and Dargon started spending their time studying the Arcturian theory and the possibility of travel along the corridor and folding time.”
“Son of a bitch!” The expletive shot out as he felt both disbelief and repulsion at the truth. “Time travel! He was going back for the sure thing!”
Simon scoffed. “He decided that was the most efficacious way to obtain the essence. Dargon worked on a way to store the energy for later, and to travel through the corridor.”
“Obviously, there is a problem.” Damon stood and walked to the bar and poured himself a double whiskey.
“Not at first, they both agreed. The first stop was Lockerbie, Scotland on December 21, 1988. There were two hundred and seventy in that air disaster. Feeling flushed with his success, he went to Santa Cruz de Tenerife in the Canary Islands.”
Damon nodded. “I remember that one. March 1977 and the two planes collided killing five hundred and eighty-two.”
“The worst air disaster in history to date, but Darien said that he wanted more. He searched and found a passenger ferry collided with an oil tanker in 1987 off the coast of the Philippines, over four thousand perished.”
Simon stopped speaking as Damon handed him a glass with whiskey, but no ice.
Damon was aware that his father watched as he sat across from him once again.
&
nbsp; Sipping the expensive liquor, Simon waited a moment before telling the rest of it.
“He got more bold with how far he would go back, and how dangerous. His next stop was January 1945 when the German ship, the Wilhelm Gustloff, carrying refugees and soldiers, was sunk by a Soviet submarine in the Baltic. More than nine thousand died that night.”
“What next?” Damon refilled his glass from the bottle he’d brought from the bar. His hand trembled as he realized what his brother was actually doing.
“Perhaps this is my fault,” Simon murmured.
“What do you mean?”
“All these tragedies… all so horrible. But I never discussed with either of you the emotional backlash that might accompany these occurrences.”
Damon shook his head. “Darien heard what I did, yet I didn’t go off and start exploiting human tragedy.” He paused, recalling his brother’s weaknesses. “I guess neither of us took his personal history into account. Does he know which trip has caused the problem?”
“At first, he thought it was the journey to 1896. An earthquake with the subsequent tidal wave killed around twenty-seven thousand at Sanriku, Japan.” Simon held his glass out to be replenished, as well. “I guess on the one hand, we should be grateful he was still scared enough to go slow. He was looking at 1228, where a sea flood in Friesland killed one hundred thousand people. Following this one, he thought 1642, where rebels in China destroyed a sea wall, and three hundred thousand drowned.”
“Just great! Was that it?” Damon made a disgusted sound.
“Well, his last trip would be his greatest, he said. Darien planned on going to 1931 and where a flood along the Yangtze River during July and August was responsible for the death of three point seven million people from drowning, starvation and subsequent disease.”
“Son of a bitch! Okay, so what stopped to him? Something must have scared him enough to back off.”
“I guess it was the day Lamenta died.”
“That was Taryn’s great-aunt, right?” Damon didn’t like the growing uneasiness he was feeling. “What happened?”
“Dargon’s a little fuzzy on his facts, but apparently, he was returning through the doorway when Lamenta spotted him.” Simon shook his head, unable to stop the half-smile curling his upper lip. “Lamenta told Dargon she’d turn him in, and he escaped through the hastily reopened passage. When he and Darien came back, that is when the shift in balance began.”
“And he swears he noticed nothing out of the ordinary until that time?” Damon didn’t bother to hide his doubts.
“Yes, and I believe him. I truly think this has sobered him up, especially now.”
Damon felt a distinct frisson of foreboding when his father added especially now. When he turned to look at his father, the expression on the older man’s face didn’t allay even one of his mounting concerns. “Okay, why now? What’s so different?” He prodded his father to continue.
“Since Dargon sent Taryn through the corridor.”
In that moment, Damon realized he had been wrong—he could feel worse. Had he heard correctly? Surely not.
“Okay, so Taryn came back and now you need me to go through because… why? Darien can’t go back for some reason?”
Damon waited for his father to agree with his words. He hated the feeling growing in his gut as the seconds passed. Unable to curtail his desperate need to know a moment longer, he asked again. “What? Darien needs me to go through with him, not Dargon this time?”
The door to the living room opened before his father could reply. Damon saw Blue standing on the threshold. He could almost feel her nervousness coming off her in waves.
“That was Pete calling. He’ll be here in an hour with my parents. They knew something was wrong and jumped on a jet. I think,” she paused, coughing slightly. “We should talk before they arrive.”
Damon saw the concern that filled his father’s eyes as he looked at the redheaded woman. He was surprised when his father lightly touched his arm.
“I do need to talk to Blue, and we need you to do this. As soon as I have the details, I’ll let you know.”
Damon watched his father cross to Blue, reaching his arm to curve around her waist. Immediately, he noted the protectiveness of the gesture. Damon gave his answer to his father without pause. “I’ll do it, Father. You’ll take care of things while I’m gone?”
His father nodded his head once.
Damon was sure he saw relief in both of their faces as they left his apartment. The difficulty would be in waiting until they decided the time was right. It didn’t matter that Taryn wanted deny a relationship between them. No way in Heaven, Hell or some damned place in the middle was he giving up!
* * * * *
On the rooftop, Blue barely waited until Simon had closed the door. She threw her arms around his neck, and holding him almost impossibly close, she kissed him his mouth, hard. Only when he didn’t resist, or advance, did she relax and begin to move her lips more tenderly, imploringly and finally, seductively over Simon’s. There was no hiding her emotions.
Her fingers were already unfastening and removing his clothes. “Take me, Simon. I need to feel you close to me, inside me.”
Blue was trying to walk backwards and pull him with her. She had his shirt undone and pulled from his pants as she reached the lounging bed. Her fingers seemed to turn into thumbs as she struggled to undo his buckle and drag down the zipper of his trousers. As she felt his hard manhood, her hand curled over it, gently. Massaging the firm flesh, she pressed kisses down his neck and onto his chest. His nipples were already puckering, but as her tongue flicked over them, they pearled up even harder quickly and eagerly.
Deserting his manhood for a moment, she pushed off his shirt and then began pulling down his trousers. One tiny part of her brain told her to slow down, but she didn’t listen. Instead, she sat on the edge of the reclining lounge chair. Her hands eagerly reached out and claimed his manhood.
“Blue!”
Above her head, she heard Simon’s low cry of her name seconds after her mouth opened and took his cock inside. One hand stroked him and the other curved under his sac, to cup and massage his balls. Over and over, she caressed his velvety flesh over steel.
She was dimly aware of his hands coming to rest on her head. He pulled off the elastic and began combing through the silky strands. She felt her curls being entwined around his fingers. Moments later, his palms cupped the sides of her skull, and he was guiding her rhythmic suction. She didn’t resist but gave herself over to his wants and desires.
Her hands caressed and massaged even while her mouth sucked. Over and over, she worshipped his body. But it was Simon’s hands that dragged her head away as he climaxed. Blue was surprised and stood slowly, still keeping one hand around his cock. As Simon’s eyes met hers, she pressed her mouth to his.
“Now, take me, Simon,” she asked him. “Take me as only you can.”
She saw the shocked look in his eyes as her meaning sank in. But she had no doubts in her mind as to what she wanted. Lifting her hands, she unbuttoned her shirt, dragging it open halfway. Tossing her hair to the right side, she exposed the left side of her neck.
“Go on, Simon. I give you the sweetest side, and most freely. I need this. My time has come… it is now!”
Simon shook his head. “Blue, my love… I don’t think you comprehend what you are getting into. This isn’t some kind of romantic act in a novel. You are changing your life and everything you are.”
“You think I don’t know that? My God, Simon! This is my destiny, and I believe I’ve known it all along. I was just too scared to face it sooner. If circumstances were a little different, I might wait. But I can’t wait. I believe that I am the one who must go and bring back Taryn home. I am strong, and by taking me partway into the dark, I should pass freely in the corridor.”
“We don’t know that for sure, Blue.”
“Maybe Damon won’t be able to pass, either. Like Darien, there is a good chance t
hat once there, he might not be able to resist the sudden death essence once he tries to restore it. Would things not be much worse with him inside the corridor, free to travel to another human disaster?”
Simon was moving his head side to side, still not agreeing. She could argue until she was blue in the face—well, dead actually—and he wouldn’t see her point. Begging God’s forgiveness, she did two things. The first was to bite her lip hard enough for it to bleed. Without pause, she dragged Simon’s mouth to hers, letting her blood enter his mouth with her kiss. Then, using an ancient artifact of her father’s, she lightly cut Simon’s chest.
Even as she felt Simon’s shock of surprise, she lowered her head and lapped his blood with her tongue. Probably an unfair seduction, but love and desperation called for such actions. She believed wholeheartedly that this was the time. Long moments later, breathing harshly, Blue lifted her head to look into Simon’s eyes. She knew that he could resent her for what she had done—
Simon looked into Blue’s deeply blue eyes. They were swimming in tears and he had no doubts as to her depth of emotion. Yet, he had to worry that she didn’t fully understand the implications. What he couldn’t deny was the sweet taste in his mouth. Her blood was headier than the most potent of liquors. He had long suspected that only a drop would be needed to secure his addiction, and he was right.
From this moment forward, he would crave her. But it was much deeper than lust for her body. It went even further, to his cellular being. Strange as it might be to believe, he knew his body was already imprinting and changing. The taste of her blood, and its presence inside, was forever a part of him. Whether her connection to him would prove as deep, only time would tell.
Lowering his gaze, he saw the redness upon her lips. He rubbed his thumb across them, wishing he knew what the future was going to bring them. She might choose to leave him, but he could never leave her. Without a doubt, he knew that until his life ended, Blue would be in his heart, his mind and hopefully, forever in his arms.