Vampire Uprising

by Marcus Pelegrimas

  “What kit?”

  “The one with the Resurrection Vial. There should be a dose of antidote in there too.” Of course he had the kit with him, he realized. It was one of the first things he’d gotten when Paige officially agreed to train him as a Skinner. At the time, his impulse had been to crack a joke about getting a membership card and instructions for some secret handshake, but then memories of Gerald Keeley had sprung to mind. Gerald was the first Skinner he had met, the first person to save his life, and the first man to kill himself in Cole’s presence.

  The Resurrection Vial was a last ditch effort for Skinners to tack a few more moments onto their lives. The vial itself was a small glass tube with two sharp points designed to break the skin and deliver its contents into a warm body: enough Nymar spore to infect a person and bring them back from whatever grievous injury had put them down.

  It was a Skinner’s duty to use the antidote syringe as soon as they’d completed their final task. They had to let the spore take root in order for it to do any good, and if they didn’t have the stones to kill themselves afterward, there were plenty of others out there who would make it their mission to track them down and do it for them. Since the Skinners couldn’t afford to let their knowledge fall into any bloodsucker’s hands, it became top priority for anyone using the vial to deliver themselves and the new little buddy attached to their heart right back to hell.

  Life sucks and then you die. Twice.

  “Stay focused, Cole,” Rico said.

  Until that moment, Cole hadn’t known he’d been drifting away. The thoughts, voices, and memories all just curled around his brain and removed him from what was happening. When the needle jabbed into his arm, he barely felt it. As the antidote was pumped in, it rolled through his body like a wave of saltwater that had been charged by downed electrical wires. He sat up with nothing on his mind other than the desire to kill the man with the syringe in his hand.

  Rico pushed him down with one thickly callused palm. “Take it easy. Just give it a minute. And don’t think I forgot about you, bitch,” he said to the Nymar. “Every bullet I got has your name on it.”

  The Nymar was being held in place somehow, but Cole wasn’t worried about the details. He barely even noticed when Paige dropped to the floor a few feet from him. Seeing her reminded him what the Resurrection Vial was for. He’d been given a few more moments to hang on and didn’t intend on wasting them.

  “Son … of a … bitch!” Paige shouted as she propped herself up on all fours and punched the floor with every word.

  Rico’s voice was still nearby. “You all right, Bloodhound?”

  “Yeah. She just … made a big mistake. Tried to seed me.”

  “Same here. Is this Cole’s first time?”

  Now Paige looked at him too. There was pain written across her face. Cole had seen that before, but there was something else in her eyes that spoke of a wound deeper than the ones already being closed by the healing serum her body had been conditioned to produce. “Yes,” she replied while injecting herself with antidote from one of the syringes in her pocket. “It’s his first time. Did you get him injected?”

  “Yeah, but it’s still tearing him up.”

  “He should be able to handle it.” She turned her head quickly enough for her newly cropped hairstyle to flap against her cheek. “You wanted to see?” she yelled. “Come over here!”

  “She’s gone, Paige,” Rico said. “She took off after tossing you over here. Was that …?”

  “Yeah. It was Hope. She’s still somewhere close. She told me that—Oh, Christ!”

  “You okay?”

  Ignoring the question while pulling herself onto one knee, Paige gnashed her teeth and said, “She seeded me just to watch me squirm. Fucking bitch still gets off on pain. Don’t worry, Cole. It hurts, but the serum in your blood will keep the spore from attaching, and the antidote should kill it. Stings like a mother, but it’ll stop before long.”

  “We gotta get out of here,” Rico said. “Those sirens are way too close, and when the cops find them bodies, things will get messy.”

  The pain lessened, but Cole’s discomfort grew. “It’s still in there,” he said.

  “I know,” Paige said through gritted teeth. Her hand rested on his chest, moved directly to the spot where it hurt most and rubbed him gently. “It’ll keep fighting for a while,” she said while trying to mask her own pain.

  When Rico stood up, the Nymar beneath his heel grunted. He bent down and picked her up. “You’re coming with us.”

  “You’ll kill me no matter what,” the Nymar spat. “Skinners can’t be trusted.”

  “No, but we can be great listeners.”

  “I won’t help you.”

  “Then you’re in for one hell of a long night.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Manns Harbor, North Carolina

  “One of the others is coming,” Randolph announced.

  Liam stood with the other Full Blood in a wooded area less than two miles east of a small coastal town. It was a cool, windy night. They’d covered a lot of ground at a vigorous pace but none of the shapeshifters were any worse for wear. Full Bloods were accustomed to traversing their vast territories. Half Breeds were only content when they were moving, and Kawosa had been eager to stretch his legs after being huddled in Lancroft’s basement for too many years. Pointing his scarred nose toward the Atlantic, Liam drew a breath and said, “Kawosa told me about our approaching guest. You think it’ll be our friend from Australia?”

  “My money’s on Sandoval. He’s more the kind who would respond to the news you’ve been so good at spreading.”

  “You flatter me.”

  “No flattery intended. Your attack on Kansas City was meant to draw attention, and that’s what you did. If it’s not Sandoval, it could be any of the others. Not that there are many to choose from.” Randolph crossed his arms over a solid chest covered in a jacket that had been hanging just inside the back door of a house in town. Breaking into the house had been a lot easier than convincing Liam to leave its owner sleeping, but he’d somehow accomplished both jobs. A wind brushed through the trees with barely enough strength to shake the leaves in it.

  “Do you smell the young one?” Liam asked.

  Nodding to a trio of figures at the edge of a nearby clearing, Randolph replied, “No, but they do. Look how restless they are.”

  “Even with the old trickster reining them in, those wretches still look ready to break loose. They really are a piece of work.”

  The other three were just far enough away for Randolph to see the shapes of their bodies, but not the expressions on their faces. Two of them were Half Breeds, but hardly looked the part anymore. They’d evolved to survive in a world left behind by Lancroft’s pestilence and had changed once more thanks to Liam’s attentions. In Randolph’s opinion, trying to infect the marrow of another shapeshifter was akin to sneezing on someone who already had a cold. The damage had been done. Liam had a knack for changing a shapeshifter even more, which made him something more than just company.

  “You’re thinking this was a mistake, aren’t you?” Liam asked.

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Because you always start to think along those lines once things really start to get good. Do you doubt those wretches can get the job done?”

  “They were once human,” Randolph stated. “Now they’re a little bit of three species. If they can’t do the job, nobody can. What of your Mongrel friends? We haven’t heard from them in a while.”

  When Liam spoke, he seemed to be both savoring and choking on his own words. “They’re pariahs among their own kind, but there are plenty among them that have higher aspirations than living in the dirt and hiding beneath the humans’ sewers. I haven’t asked them to do anything that isn’t within their best interests.”

  Randolph’s eyes shifted within their sockets. “We both set the task in front of them.”

  Where Randolph was careful, Liam positio
ned himself so there would be no mistaking his intent. “You try giving them an order without me approving it and see what happens. Are you so proud that you can’t admit you need my help even this long after you’ve already begged for it?”

  “I didn’t beg,” Randolph replied as his teeth reflexively melted into points.

  Grinning with satisfaction, Liam said, “At least it’s nice to know you still appreciate me.”

  “The wretches swarmed into a city. The humans have enough pictures of you on their computers to make you a celebrity. The Skinners are pooling resources that would have been lost if Jonah Lancroft hadn’t been forced to play his hand, and now we’re awaiting the arrival of a Full Blood who’s probably looking to add to all of the confusion gripping this section of the world. How could I not appreciate your contributions to the state of things?”

  “This had to happen. You know that, right?”

  Randolph’s only answer was a growl masked beneath a steam-laden exhalation.

  “Change is good all ‘round,” Liam said in a more relaxed voice that dripped with his cockney brogue. “Our mistake was letting the Skinners get too comfortable, especially in this neck of the woods. Even the Travelers have had too much time to collect themselves and figure new ways to put a hurt on the likes of us. As for the other Full Blood coming here, perhaps that can work to our advantage.” Lowering his voice as well as his head, he said, “The Amriany are expecting to find me or my new pack, and I won’t disappoint. It’s doubtful this generation has even met you. That is, unless you’ve made a trip across the pond within the last few decades?”

  “I haven’t.”

  “There you are, then. I set ‘em up. You knock ‘em down. We almost took over a continent that way, remember?”

  Randolph did remember. His crystalline eyes narrowed as all those screams echoed through his mind. Before he tried to silence them, another sound caught his attention. Liam heard it as well because he angled his head to point his eye in that direction.

  Lyssa darted between the trees, running close to the ground with effortless grace that seemed like a dance compared to a werewolf’s powerful gait. She veered to the north, circled around the spot where the other three figures were gathered, and then approached the Full Bloods to come to a stop in front of Liam. She wasn’t even breathing heavily when she said, “We’ve spoken to packs in Florida and Louisiana. There are members from both who will join you so long as you change them the way you did with me and Max.”

  “How far can we trust them?”

  “For what you have in mind, all the way.”

  Liam glanced over to Randolph and got a response that would have gone completely unnoticed by anyone who didn’t know exactly what to look for. Looking back to the Mongrel, he asked, “Where’s Max?”

  “Trying to find a pack of wanderers not far from here. With you two so close, they’re probably trying to get to safer ground, so he wants to catch up with them before they’re entrenched.”

  “Tell me,” Randolph said. “Can you pick up the scent of anything apart from the ones who are within your sight at the moment?”

  “Like who?” Lyssa asked.

  “Just tell me what you can find.”

  She humored him by taking an exaggerated sniff, but quickly snapped her nose toward the east and sniffed some more. Her breaths became almost frantic as she pulled in short gulps of air that were drawn all the way down to the back of her throat and let out through her mouth. When she looked back to Randolph, she said, “There are more Full Bloods coming. The scent is too far east to be over dry land, so it must be on a ship or … I don’t know but they are coming.”

  Although Randolph was content to study her carefully, Liam wasn’t so passive. “How long did you know about this? When did you pick up on the scent?”

  “I’ve smelled nothing but Full Bloods for days!” she said while taking a step back. “Your scents are everywhere, mixed with everything and spread across the country, thanks to all the running you’ve been doing. Why do you think the Mongrel packs have scattered?” Three shapes huddled in the nearby darkness; Kawosa and two Half Breeds. She started to look back at them, but quickly averted her eyes. “And then there’s him. Him being in the open air makes everything different. He’s one of us, but not. One of you, but not. He’s everything and nothing. How could you not know that?”

  “I know who Kawosa is,” Randolph said. “I know what he is.”

  “He is Ktseena,” she hissed. “If you knew that, you should have known to leave him wherever he’s been trapped all these years. I don’t know how Lancroft managed to put him in a cage, but Max thinks …”

  When she became too frightened to continue, Liam bent down to one knee and leaned forward. “Go on. Tell me what Max thinks.”

  “Max thinks he may not have been captured at all. Ktseena could very well have allowed Lancroft to think he’d been captured just so he could gain the Skinner’s confidence.”

  “Why would he do that?” Randolph asked.

  “If even a handful of the legends about him are true, there’s no way for us to make sense of what he does or why. I’ve only been told a few of the stories, but they all say Ktseena would help no one but himself.”

  “There are legends about me,” Randolph pointed out. “There are legends about Liam. There are legends about your kind as well as the wretches. The only difference between legends and frightened rumor is the amount of time that’s passed since the tale was first told.”

  “So you don’t believe the legends about him?”

  “I believe what I can put together with my own senses,” Randolph said. Leveling a firm glare upon the Mongrel, he added, “You do not need to deal with Kawosa. If you do the jobs you’ve been given, you will get the rewards you’ve been promised.”

  “And what if you cannot control him?”

  “Then the situation is well out of your hands, Mongrel. Best to enjoy the scraps we throw you and live to spread more of your precious legends another day.”

  Liam stood up in the baggy clothes he’d stolen and told her, “Now that the Skinners have found Lancroft’s weapons and the Amriany have come to these shores, we’re going to need more to stand behind us. Kawosa agrees.”

  “He’s the first of the deceivers,” Lyssa replied. “Every word from his mouth has an equal chance of being the truth or a lie.”

  “The words he speaks to humans aren’t worth the air they float on,” Liam pointed out. “He is also the first shapeshifter and owes nothing to humans. Don’t lose sight of that.”

  Lyssa cringed, but her question was important enough for her to push through her trepidation. “And why would he treat Full Bloods any differently?”

  “Because,” Liam said proudly and without a twitch, “we’re his favorites.”

  She’d been around him long enough to know that was all she was going to get. When Kawosa barked at the Half Breeds and stood up on his hind legs, she hopped back and then scampered away.

  “I should keep an eye on her,” Liam said. “Make certain that she or the other one don’t get any big ideas in those pointed little heads of theirs.”

  “Fine. Off with you, then. I want a word with the old one.”

  Liam jogged after the Mongrel, allowed his upper body to fall forward and shifted into his four-legged form before his front paws hit the dirt. After that, a few powerful leaps carried him out of sight.

  Striding to the spot where Kawosa had been, Randolph almost lost sight of the solitary figure several times. The figure clad in tattered rags didn’t fade away so much as blend in with everything around him. When the wind bent the trees, Kawosa swayed in the same rhythm. When light from the sky or the nearby town shifted to make the shadows lurch, he matched those movements as well. For one such as Randolph, it was unsettling to watch. “You truly do enjoy your work, don’t you?” he asked.

  “The Half Breeds have been set loose as you asked,” Kawosa replied.

  “Were they changed?”

 
“They are living sculptures already. I was able to make them into something that would be close enough to suit your purposes.”

  “You’ve been very helpful, Kawosa. I’m surprised.”

  “So far, our purposes seem to be more or less the same. And the ones I don’t share, I find … interesting.” Gazing in the direction the Half Breeds had bolted, Kawosa added, “They’re up to your task and they’ll remain loyal.”

  “Are you certain of that? The wretches aren’t exactly the sort to be reasoned with.”

  “I didn’t reason with them. They act on instinct.” Shifting his mouth into something that could have been a grin or a snarl, he added, “So I rewrote their instincts.”

  “Will it last?”

  “No, but it will hold long enough for them to complete their hunt. Your friend is plotting against you, you know.”

  “Liam’s plots aren’t complex. Something strikes his fancy and he runs after it.”

  “I suppose you know him better than I do.”

  “He’s just someone who knows me well enough to keep me from killing him,” Randolph mused.

  “And you know him well enough to make him useful. It doesn’t bother you that he thinks so little of you?”

  Randolph studied the being in front of him. Not quite a man and not quite an animal, Kawosa seemed to be obscured by clouds that weren’t even there. His eyes shifted from the color of a clear sky to one reflected in unfathomably deep waters. His face had narrowed and his posture became stooped. Whether that was to hide his true size or coddle some sort of ailment was anyone’s guess.

  Shifting his eyes once again to acquire a multifaceted quality and a color that was only slightly grayer than Randolph’s, Kawosa said, “There is another reason you’re so intent on finding this other Full Blood that is making its way here.”

  “If you truly are the one who created shapeshifters, then you know about the deficiencies we have in picking up some very particular scents. We can pinpoint a specific human from hundreds of miles away but we cannot find those that will become most vital to us. We can barely smell our own kind unless we’ve acquired their scent from its source. Is that your doing, Trickster?”