by Mac Flynn
I folded my arms over my chest and furrowed my brow. "Where exactly are we going?"
"First to prove to you the nobleness in my hobby, and then to see an old friend about a proposition," Simon told me.
I raised an eyebrow. "Another of your victims?"
He chuckled. "His curse was none of my doing, and I wouldn't wish to drink his blood even if I was desperate for a drink."
A sudden thought struck me and I cringed. "Speaking of that, do I-that is, do I have to-well, you know."
His shadowed form shook his head. "No, you don't need blood to survive. At least, not yet."
I raised an eyebrow. "How soon?"
"The change is different for everyone. You may crave blood in a month, or perhaps six months."
"But is craving it the same thing as needing it?" I asked him.
"For a vampire, they are one and the same. The craving is difficult to control, and nearly impossible for a new vampire," he explained.
I slumped in my seat and crossed my arms. "Perfect. . ." I muttered.
Simon chuckled. "There are perks to being a vampire, even in the transition stage."
"Such as?"
"You may develop your telepathy powers early, or perhaps you will be able to fly," he suggested.
I sat up and raised an eyebrow. "Vampires can fly? Like as a bat?"
His chuckle echoed through the small, dark space. "I'm afraid transformation is quite out of our reach, but we are able to fly to certain heights."
Here was something I could sink my growing teeth into. "Is this something I can learn right now?"
Simon shook his head. "No. Each ability comes in its own time."
I frowned and sank back into my seat. "Just when this was getting good. . ." I murmured.
"We might perhaps test one ability within the confines of the car," he suggested.
I raised an eyebrow. "Like what? Fear of small, dark places?"
He raised his hand and displayed a couple of fingers. "How many fingers do you see?"
I shrugged. "Three."
"Excellent." He dropped his hand. "How many of my eyes are open?"
I leaned forward and squinted. "One of them?"
"Which one is shut?"
I nodded at his right eye. "That one."
He clapped his hands. "Perfect. It appears that you eyesight has already adjusted to the near-blackness within the car."
My face fell. "That's a pretty lame ability."
"In a world of darkness the ability to see is sometimes your only advantage," he philosophized.
I snorted. "So you can what? See your death coming?"
He chuckled. "I hardly think death will come to you. You are of my flesh now, and that may grant you greater abilities in a shorter time."
I raised an eyebrow. "Of your flesh?"
He nodded. "Yes. When a vampire marks a human to become a vampire they inject a drop of their blood into the intended vampire."
I cringed. "That's pretty nasty shit."
Simon chuckled. "Perhaps, but it's the only way to create a new vampire."
"Like those guys we saw in the alley?" I guessed.
The darkness inside the limo was nearly vanished, so I was able to see the scowl slip onto his face. "No. Those Fledglings were nothing but puppets to their pathetic master."
I tilted my head to one side and furrowed my brow. "So what's the difference between us and them?"
He leaned back against his seat and pursed his lips. "They are pathetic shadows of vampires. Their abilities are few and their lineage weak."
I raised an eyebrow. "Lineage?"
"Every vampire is descended from a First Vampire. An ancient ancestor, if you will. Some were greater than others. These Fledglings come from those lesser vampires," he explained. He turned his head and glanced out the blackened window. The shadows of the outside world flew by. "The master was also quite young, perhaps no more than fifty, and when he turned those humans I fought they in their turn were weakened by his young blood."
"So if I created a vampire they wouldn't be very strong?" I guessed.
He returned his attention to me and gave a nod. "That is correct." The car slowed and took a corner. The road became noticeably more bumpy. "We're almost there."
I scooted close to one of the windows and pressed my face against the glass. The tint obscured the details, but I noticed the large warehouses that lined the southern port of the city. "Why are we going to the docks again?"
"To prove to you our good cause," he reminded me.
I turned to him and frowned. "Your cause."
"Perhaps you'll think otherwise when you learn the source of our former host's wealth," he countered.
I wrinkled my nose. "You mean Eres? Isn't he just a real estate guy?"
Simon chuckled. "Yes, and far more."
The car slowed to a stop and in a few seconds Certus opened the door. Simon slipped out, being careful to keep his head low and shadowed by his large hat. I followed and blinked against the bright light of the sun. We were parked close to the rear of one of the yards that was surrounded by a chain-link fence. A rusted old gate and assortment of trash told me this wasn't used very often. The smell of the river, the sounds of men yelling, and the groaning of machinery bespoke the rough occupation.
In his elegant attire Simon stood out like a sore thumb in the dingy. He turned to Certus. "Remain here. This may take a few minutes." Certus closed his eyes and bowed at the waist. Simon glanced over his shoulder at me and smiled. He gestured to the gate. "Ladies first."
I shook my head. "Hell no. This is your show, you go first."
He bowed his head. "As you wish."
Simon led me through the rusted gate and into the yard. Half a dozen metal warehouses stretched length-wise from the fence to the docks along the river. Stacks of wooden crates and lines of metal cargo containers filled the narrow space between the buildings. Small walkways allowed one to reach the front of the warehouses that looked out on the docks. The rear of the warehouses had doors, but they were as rusted as the gate behind us.
I looked around us. The sunlight glistened off something small and round above us. I followed the light and noticed a camera and its lens pointed down at us. The rear of all the buildings had cameras pointed at the space between the fence and the structures.
I pointed at the camera. "Do you-" Simon put a finger to his lips.
"Shh."
I frowned and opened my mouth to ask why, but my question was answered when a man with a gun stepped out from the shadows of one of the paths. He wore a dark suit and black sunglasses. In one hand was a pistol. The barrel was pointed at us, and there was a glare on his face.
"What the hell do you want?" he growled.
Simon grasped the top of his cane with both hands and bowed his head. "We're merely sightseers curious to have a view of the docks."
The man took a step towards us. His finger on the trigger tightened. "Then you chose a bad spot 'cause now I've gotta take care of ya."
Simon raised his head and looked into the man's eyes. "Must you? We really meant no harm."
The man's eyes widened and took on the familiar haziness I recognized as the same as those of Gemmarius from last night. When the gunman spoke his voice was devoid of emotion. "No. It's fine. Please look around all you want."
Simon tipped his hat. "We're much obliged, and would be more so if you remained in the shadows until we left."
The man nodded. "As you wish." He slipped back into the alcove from which he appeared.
Simon strode on ahead with his cane at his side. I glanced between Simon and the camera, and hurried after him. "What the hell are you doing? There's a bunch of cameras around here!"
He smiled. "I'm well aware of that."
I waved my hand in the direction of the limo. "Then don't you think we should be getting out of here?"
"In due time," he assured me.
His long strides and quick step meant we covered the hundred and fifty feet of warehou
se in a short time. More wooden crates covered all but a narrow path to the open area in front of the warehouses. Simon took one side and I took the other so we both looked out on the busy docks.
Forklifts and cranes worked away at loading and unloading the cargo from a couple of flat-decked ferry boats. Men hefted small boxes onto pallets that were then taken away into the gaping mouths of the warehouses. The operation was like any other except for the armed guards stationed here and there along the docks and the front of the buildings. Their black sunglasses hid their eyes, but they turned their heads slightly to and fro as they inspected the area.
I glanced at Simon. "What's the deal with the guards?"
Simon's gaze lay on the men who stacked the smaller boxes. A sly smile slipped onto his lips. "Watch."
I followed his gaze. One of the men lifted a box and froze. His eyes widened and he slowly opened his arms. The wooden box fell onto the hard pavement and cracked open. Bags of white powder spilled onto the ground and over his feet.
One of his loading mates shoved his shoulder. "What the hell are you doing? Pick it up!"
The man shook himself and clutched his head in one hand. "What? What happened?"
His mate jabbed a finger at the broken crate and contents. "That's what happened, now pick it up!"
The pair of them stooped and shoveled the contents into the crate. I glanced at Simon and jerked my head towards the men. "What's in those things?"
His eyes remained on the men and his lips were pursed. "Cocaine. High-quality, from what I hear. The human's version of blood."
I turned back to the men as they finished their stuffing of the drugs. "So why show me this?"
"The warehouses are owned by Eres, and knowingly rented to the drug dealers," Simon told me.
I cringed. "How could he-" I glanced at Simon.
He was gone.
My heartbeat quickened. I spun around and looked down the narrow path. The way was empty. I was alone.
"Simon?" I hissed. "Where the hell-"
"Hands in the air! Now!"
I stiffened and slowly turned towards the docks. One of the gunmen stood in the entrance to the path and had his weapon pointed at me. I cringed and slowly raised my hands.
"I-I can explain," I stuttered.
The man strode up to me and pulled out a stick. "You'll explain, all right."
He raised the stick and brought it down on my head. A hard knock and I was out.
CHAPTER 4
Loud noises and a throbbing headache brought me around. I felt like I'd been hit by a train and there was something tight around my hands. My eyes creaked open and I beheld the interior of one of the steel warehouses. The large door was shut and there were no windows, so the large space was lit with long florescent bulbs that hung from the curved ceiling. The walls were so well insulated that the roar of the machines outside was more like a whimper. No one would hear me scream.
Around me were stacks of crates and wooden boxes. They all looked like the crate that broke open on the dock. I sat in a wooden chair in an open spot on the floor. My feet were bound at the ankles and my hands were tied together behind the back of the chair. I squirmed, but the knots were good and tight.
The noise that helped wake me up came from two men who stood in front of me. They were two of the glasses gunmen. One held a camera and the other tried to get the camera from him.
"Lemme try it!" the one without the camera demanded.
His friend held the camera out of his reach. "I tell ya it ain't gonna work!"
His buddy dove for the camera and managed to grab it. He stepped back and clasped the camera in both hands while he glared at the other guy. "You probably just had the lens shut."
The former owner of the camera frowned and jabbed his finger at me. "I tell ya she's just not showing up on the recorder."
His friend scoffed. "Like some ghost? Yeah, right." He turned and pointed the camera at me. I winced at the bright flash. The guy grinned and showed his buddy the screen on the back.
"Read 'em and weep," he bragged.
His friend leaned forward. A smirk lipped onto his lips and his eyes flickered to the man who held the camera. "She ain't there."
His friend's smile slipped off his face and he whipped his head towards the screen. His eyes bulged out of his head and his mouth dropped open. "What the hell? I got her! I know I did!"
"You got the chair, but she ain't in it just like my pictures," his friend pointed out.
"Will you two shut up?" a voice growled.
The men stood at attention and stepped aside. I glanced past them and into the face only a mother could love, and only if she was blind. The man was all fat and wrinkles, and his beady dark eyes glared down at me from his full five-foot height. He wore a white suit that did nothing to hide the sweat under his armpits and his black shoes shuffled along the floor as he walked up to me.
The man leaned down so our faces nearly touched and glared at me. His putrid breath ghosted over my face. I cringed and turned away. "Who the hell are you?" he questioned me.
I shrugged. "Just somebody's who's lost."
The man pulled a pistol from his pocket. He pointed the weapon upward and jabbed the cold barrel under my chin. My heart skipped more beats than it should have as his finger inched close to the trigger.
The man lowered his voice and his words were delivered in a deadly-calm whisper. "I don't think you quite know the trouble you're in, miss. You see, I called the boss and he's interested in seeing you. Real interested." He glanced over his shoulder at the men. "You got that picture yet for him"
They both shook their heads. "No, Boss. She won't show up," the one with the camera told him.
The pudgy man's eyebrows crashed down and he straightened. I breathed a sigh of relief when the barrel was removed from my flesh. "What the hell does that mean?"
The man stepped forward and placed the camera between the fat man and me. "See, Boss? There's the chair, but she ain't in it."
The fat man grabbed the camera and shoved the gun into his lackey's hand. "You idiots probably didn't set it right." He played with the settings, raised the camera to his face, and I was once more blinded with the indoor flash settings. The pudgy man flipped into the picture folder and frowned. "What the fuck?"
The man beside him nodded. "See what I mean, Boss? No girl."
The fat man glanced over the camera and at me. "Is this some kind of trick?"
I shook my head. "No, I swear it."
The man shoved the camera into his lackey's chest and grabbed his gun. He stepped towards me and pointed the barrel at my thigh. "You're some kind of agent, aren't you? That's why the camera won't work and why you're not on any of the surveillance recordings. You're covered in something that hides you, aren't you?"
I tried to scoot my thigh out of the line of sight. "I'm not an agent! I just got lost!"
"Nobody gets that lost," the fat man growled. He cocked the gun and put his hand on the trigger. His beady eyes glared at me. "Now tell me who the fuck you are or I start ventilating you."
"I would rather you not touch her."
The fat man spun around and his lackeys pulled their guns and likewise turned. Behind them in front of a path between the high stacks of crates stood Simon. My heart skipped a beat and my eyebrows crashed down.
"Where the hell have you been?" I snapped at him.
He swept off his hat and bowed to me. "My apologies, but I felt this was the best way to show you the severity of their evil."
The fat man snorted and glanced from me to Simon. "So you two are together, huh? That means I don't need both of you." He pointed his gun at Simon's head. "Maybe we are evil like you say, but it's better than being what you are."
Simon's smile didn't slip off his face as he raised an eyebrow. "And what am I?"
The fat man chuckled and pressed his finger against the trigger. "Dead."
The shot rang out and echoed around the expansive warehouse.
"Simon!" I screamed.
The bullet tore through Simon's cloak that lay over his heart and lodged itself somewhere inside his body. He glanced down at the hole in his attire as though it was an annoying bee sting and frowned.
Simon's eyes flickered to the fat man. "This is a rather expensive cloak."
The fat man's eyes widened and he stumbled back so he stood flush with my chair. He whipped his head to his men and jabbed a finger at Simon. "S-shoot him, you idiots!"
The men fired off shot after shot. The bullets hit him in the chest, legs and arms, but Simon merely set both hands on his cane and leaned on the stick. The cartridges ran empty after two dozen rounds, but their target still stood after that barrage. Only his hole-filled clothes showed the extent of their effort.
Simon glanced from one gunman's face to the other. "Are you quite finished?"
They both took a step back. One of them glanced at the fat man. "B-boss?"
The fat man shook his head and his mouth bobbed up and down. He managed to swallow some fear and get out a few words from his fat lips. "W-what the fuck are you?"
Simon chuckled. "I'm undead, but you won't have the pleasure of such an existence."
Simon's hat flew off as he swept towards the pair of gunmen and grabbed one by the side of his throat. He buried his face into the man's neck and I had a clear view of the sharp fangs entering the flesh. The gunman's eyes widened and he opened his mouth in a soundless scream. It didn't take long fro his body to grow limp. His weapon fell from his limp hand and clattered to the concrete ground. His head lolled back and his empty eyes stared at nothing.
Simon pulled his face away and opened his hand. The man dropped lifeless to the ground.
The other gunman stumbled back until his right shoulder hit the stack of crates. He pulled out another cartridge from his pocket and jammed it into the weapon just as Simon turned to him. "S-stay the fuck away from-" Simon didn't let him finish his last sentence.
The vampire was on him in a flash and the man became victim number two for the evening. The fat man slid behind me and wrapped his arm around my neck. I stiffened when he pressed the cold barrel of his gun against my temple.
His fat, sweaty body pressed against the back of mine and jammed my hands against the seat. "S-stay back or she gets it!"