by Rob Cornell
The vamp didn’t like that. He pistol whipped Lockman across the face and took a chunk of skin off his nose.
Lockman staggered, but still remained standing.
The vamp hissed through his fangs, his bloodlust getting the better of him, making him forget the pistol in his hand.
Just as Lockman had hoped.
He dropped the dagger out of his sleeve and caught it by the hilt. Planted one foot behind him and braced himself for the vamp’s charge.
When the vamp came at him, Lockman swung up the knife, blade pointed straight at the vamp’s heart. The vamp’s yellow eyes sparked as he registered the dagger, but he had already put all his strength into his assault. Momentum took care of the rest.
The vamp impaled himself on the dagger. He hiccupped once.
Lockman jerked the blade out, kicked the vamp in the chest, and knocked him down to liquefy on the marble floor. That moist and rotten smell of melting vamp filled his nose. Rather than turn his stomach, it worked on him like blood in the water did on a shark. He whirled on the king and pointed the bloody dagger at him. “Now you.”
The vampire king folded his hands and rested his chin on his knuckles. “I’m a thousand years too old to scrap with mortals. Never satisfies me anymore.”
“You’re all out of lackeys, so I guess you’ll have to make an exception.”
The vamp sighed as if all of existence was too boring to bear. “You are the one who killed all my freshlings?”
“And a few not so fresh.”
The king’s gaze grew distant. “My Yora.” His tongue flickered over a fang. With a shake, he brought himself back from whatever kind of sick reverie a vamp could have. “You killed a woman I had recently grown to love.”
If Lockman wanted to continue with the stupid banter, he would have said something like, I’ll be sure to send flowers. Banter wasn’t what he had in mind, though. He lifted the dagger over his shoulder by the blade and flung it forward. It sailed across the room end over end. He and Rodriguez had played darts with knifes, too. Lockman had never lost with the knives.
His aim was true. The dagger flew right at the king’s heart.
But the king slapped his hands together and caught the blade between them.
Aw, shit.
The silver blade smoked against the king’s palms, yet he didn’t so much as cringe. Instead he inhaled deep through his nose as if smelling his own flesh burn. “You’ve no idea how old I am. The Aztecs summoned me to this plane fifty years before the Spanish conquest. I had already aged a century and a half by that time.” The king took the dagger by the hilt and waved it like a conductor’s baton. His seared palms healed instantly. “Do you need a calculator?”
Lockman didn’t have to do the math. He didn’t care how old this vamp was. He would kill him for harming Jessie, or die trying. He dropped to a crouch and scooped up the pistol the melted vamp had dropped as he died. Without a second’s hesitation, he sprung back to his feet, sighted down the barrel and emptied the gun.
Each shot struck the king in the center of the face, shredding his skin, knocking teeth loose, bursting his eyes. Too bad the vamps didn’t load their guns with silver. Still, the damage looked severe enough to give Lockman an edge.
He hightailed it around the table where Jessie lay and right at the king. It couldn’t have been more than ten seconds to reach the pedestal that the throne sat on. Yet Lockman saw the king’s face folding back together, new eyes jelling in their sockets, fresh teeth cutting through the gums, completely healed by the time Lockman crossed the suite.
The vamp stood to meet him as he bounded up onto the pedestal and sidestepped easily, letting Lockman crash into the throne. The pain in his face where the king’s lackey had punched him flared as he pounded headfirst against the throne’s back. The throne, bolted to the floor, held against the impact, and Lockman sort of crumbled into the seat as if he meant to take the throne himself.
The king shook his head and chuckled. “I told you I don’t waste time with mortals.” He held the dagger out to Lockman. “You’ll need this.”
Lockman eyeballed the dagger. Some kind of trap. But why, when he had Lockman at his mercy, trapped against the throne? Did the vamp really intend to let him live because of some ridiculous distaste for fighting humans? That didn’t explain handing over the dagger.
He met the king’s eyes. “You keep it.”
“How about I set it here?” He placed the dagger on the arm of the throne. “In case you change your mind.”
Lockman looked from the dagger to the vamp. “You want me to kill you?”
The king waved a hand, casting a small breeze tainted by the smell of carrion. “I have a legion to attend to.” He wrinkled his scaly brow. “You didn’t really think those with me here were all I have under my command?”
“I know about your hostel in the community center. The factory. The rundown theme park. We’ll get to those.”
The king threw his head back and laughed almost uncontrollably. “What about the warehouse in Baton Rouge? The office complex in Tallahassee? The skyscraper in Atlanta?”
Impossible. He’s bullshitting.
“Not all of our homes are as primitive as they are here in New Orleans. I didn’t start here. I’ve shelters throughout the south. Most of them are purchased legally with mortal intermediaries to conduct the transactions.” He laughed again. “I do not use the word legion lightly.”
Lockman’s bones felt ready to shake loose. If what the king claimed was true, who knew how many vamps had aligned themselves with him? This wasn’t just a group of vamps drawn together by the easy pickings after Katrina. This was an honest to God epidemic.
“You should see the look on your face,” the king said. “Reality dawning as you face the inevitable rise of the vampire.” He turned, his gaze falling on Jessie’s still form. “And your very special daughter a part of it all.”
In the back of his mind, he had suspected. No. He’d known. Just couldn’t accept it. Screaming, he launched off the throne at the king.
Again, the king moved aside.
Lockman trampled past him, this time staying on his feet. He spun back, chest heaving. His breath tasted bitter.
The king lifted his hands, palms up. “Awake from the slumber, my child. It is your time.”
Lockman heard the movement behind him, didn’t want to turn, didn’t want to see what this monster had turned her into.
The sound of her feet hitting the floor as she dropped off the table.
The king gestured in her direction. “She is no longer your daughter,” he said. “She is mine.”
He had to turn, face her. He owed his daughter that, for failing her. When he did, his legs went weak and he dropped to his knees.
Jessie stood before him, and she looked almost the same as she always had, besides the blood. She smiled. For a second Lockman grasped at hope that he hadn’t lost her after all.
Then she opened her mouth and showed him her fangs.
“The first meal,” the king said, “is always the sweetest. You should feel honored to give your former daughter such a treat.”
Lockman bared his teeth at the king. “I’ll kill you for this.”
The king feinted a yawn, then cocked his head and gazed at Jessie lovingly. “You may feed.”
Jessie hissed and ran at Lockman, a glint of yellow in her eyes.
Chapter Sixty-Five
Like most fresh turns, Jessie did not have the strength or coordination of an older or original vamp. When she reached Lockman, he grabbed one of her arms and used her momentum to swing her past him.
She flailed for balance, caught herself against the wall. The hate in her eyes when she turned back to him shredded Lockman’s soul.
“Jess, wait.”
She didn’t. She barreled at him again. Lockman tried the same trick, but this time she caught on and grabbed him back, yanking her with him. They collided into the dining table. Lockman lifted Jessie and slammed her onto the t
able, jumped up on top of her, and pinned her.
She bucked under him, ten times stronger than any other teen her age.
“I’m your damn father. Stop it.”
She bucked again, got her knee between them, and rolled off the table.
Lockman landed on his back, grunted as Jessie fell on top of him, her knee jamming into his abs. She snapped at his throat. He had to grab her around the neck, like holding a squirming python, to keep her fangs back.
The noise out of her mouth was nothing close to human—an animal-like cry that scraped the eardrums. Saliva dripped off her bottom lip and her tongue flicked in her mouth.
He tried to push her off, but didn’t have any leverage. All he could do was hold her from biting him.
That’s not all you can do. If this were any other vamp you’d—
It wasn’t any other vamp. This was his daughter. He could not harm her.
You can crush her windpipe. She’ll heal. She’s a vampire.
He stared into her eyes. The yellow shine had faded for the moment. All he saw was Jessie’s eyes. Eyes like her mother’s.
At first, she tried to pull Lockman’s hands off her neck. When that didn’t work, she took a move from his playbook and wrapped her hands around his throat. Her nails dug into his skin. It became harder and harder for him to breathe. If he didn’t do something, she would strangle him.
He pushed his thumbs against her windpipe and squeezed.
She gagged, her hands reflexively shooting back to tug at his.
He drove his thumbs deeper into the center of her neck while she raked at his wrists with her nails, drawing red lines through his skin. His thumb knuckles felt ready to snap from pressing so hard.
Eventually, she couldn’t take anymore and rolled off of him, onto her hands and knees, choking.
He gripped the table and pulled himself to his feet. Before Jessie could recover, he kicked her in the face, smashing her nose. Blood dripped out in viscous strings. Lockman closed his mouth against a sob and kicked her again.
She flipped off her hands and knees onto her back.
Any other vamp, and he would stomp her face. Make sure she was down before looking for something to stake her with. He lifted his boot. Couldn’t bring it down.
The vampire king laughed, pressed his hands over his heart. “You still think she’s yours.”
Lockman hopped over her and dashed to the throne, recovered the dagger. He feinted going at Jessie, changed directions and dove at the king. The king swung an arm and knocked Lockman aside. He tumbled to the floor and a second later, Jessie dropped on top of him again.
She moved in faster this time. Her fangs sank into his shoulder.
Pain jagged through his entire body. He could feel his blood flowing out of his shoulder and into Jessie’s mouth. The situation seemed so ludicrous, he couldn’t bring himself to fight her off, like accepting a dream as a dream and waiting to wake up.
He didn’t wake up. Nightmares were real. He knew that. Had known it for a long time. Had been his job to battle those nightmares. His daughter had become part of that nightmare. This was a battle he could not fight.
Jessie threw her head back, Lockman’s blood wet and bright on her mouth like cherry sauce. She groaned, her shoulders lifting as she took a long, deep breath. When she looked down at him, he thought he saw something different in her eyes. A clarity.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Sorry, Dad. I just needed to get that out of the way.”
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Gabriel had not lied.
The way things went when Jessie awoke were exactly as he had described. The pang in her belly. The hot wetness in her mouth. The thirst. The blind fury and overwhelming need.
The need for blood.
But he had also explained something else.
Becoming a vampire is not what destroys your soul. It is, however, what causes you to let it go.
Gabriel liked to talk in riddles. It pissed Jessie off to no end, but she accepted it as part of the package, as she saw no immediate way to kick him out of her head. She had, however, scared him enough to keep his mental distance after dropping into that dark part of her mind, what she’d come to call the Dark Basement of Her Soul. The place where she could feel Gabriel’s mind, and sensed she might even be able to control it.
Yeah, he didn’t like that one bit.
Which worked fine for her. It kept him tame enough to deal with at the moment. She’d worry about the wholesale mental eviction of him and the rest of the voices he brought along once she got past the whole being a vampire thing.
I won’t let go of my soul, she said. No matter what.
Of course you won’t. But only because I’m about to tell you how.
Much of what he said came out in more riddles. It was like he got off on making her feel stupid. Some of the other stuff sounded like him showing off his arcane vocabulary. Terms like divination, astral projection, and precognizant. She knew what they meant. She just had no idea what they had to do with keeping her soul intact.
Then he came to the crux of his diatribe.
It’s all connected, he said as if sensing her doubts. The elevated forces in our world are more powerful than any human realizes, because their mortal flesh cannot withstand the greatest levels.
More spooky talk. Did he really think she gave a fuck? Get on with it.
It’s simple. When you awake, you will be vampire. Vampires are immortal. Through you, I will have access to magic far more powerful than even the most sensitive mortal. I will have transcended my own humanity.
That was probably the most fucked up shit Jessie had heard since she got thrown into this world of monsters and mojo, as Craig called it. It sure as hell didn’t sound good to her. She comforted herself by thinking about the Dark Basement, and that feeling of control she had there.
Finally, he got to the good part.
He started by explaining how she would feel when she first woke up.
You will have to feed. There is no way around that. And you will have to do it immediately. The longer you suffer the risen fever, the harder it will be to retain your soul.
What exactly does that mean? she asked.
It means, don’t be squeamish and don’t be picky. Suck some blood out of the first living creature you see.
Gross.
Next, he explained the mantra. Basically, she had to repeat some nonsense phrase over and over.
Ego sum.
Keep repeating it in your mind until you’ve had your first blood. If the mantra breaks, you are lost.
You mean we are lost.
Our fates are forever twined now.
Something still bothered her about all of this—besides the prospect of spending eternity as a vampire with Mr. Dickless in her head. This sounds too easy.
It isn’t easy. It’s impossible. Except for you.
Why me?
Destiny doesn’t always give us reasons.
Oh, brother.
It turned out not to be so easy. Especially since the only person with blood available was her own father. Plus, repeating ego sum over and over while overwhelmed with all those crazy sensations Gabriel had warned her about, and on top of fighting against her dad…
No, Gabriel had not lied. Not about any of it.
Including the release she would feel once she drank blood.
Now she sat on Craig while his blood dribbled over her lip. The look on Craig’s face made her want to cry. She had a feeling she couldn’t cry anymore, though.
That’s right, Gabriel said. Vampires have no tears.
Craig lifted his head off the floor, gaping up at her. “Jess?”
“It’s me.” Her voice broke, so even if she couldn’t cry, emotions still had an effect. Which was a good sign. It meant Gabriel’s plan had worked. It meant she had kept her soul.
“What?”
Jessie felt the rage in that voice like a static shock. She stood and turned to face the vampire king
. She felt a pull toward the king, like the moon’s influence on the tides. Gabriel surfaced to tell her all about it, but she shoved his voice back. She didn’t need him to explain. She already knew. The king had made her. They would share a connection until one of them died.
The king held his hands out as if he meant to grasp something out of thin air. His fingers curled. His lips peeled away from his fangs. “What are you?”
“Shit, dude.” She wiped the wet blood on her hands off on her pants. “I’ve been trying to figure that out for a long time now.”
The king became a blur that tore straight for her.
She tensed, but didn’t flinch. The power she felt coiled in her belly made her near fearless. Even when the blur stopped in front of her and the king grabbed her by the throat, she stared him down like a mother wolf protecting her cubs.
“I hear there’s a prophecy about me,” she said. “I think you know about it.” She grabbed his wrist and twisted. The bones snapped and he released her throat.
She kept her hold on his wrist and raked her nails across his face.
Ribbons of blood unfurled across his visage. Jessie pursed her lips. “You’re so handsome.”
She wasn’t sure what happened next. He turned into a blur again. She felt something like a wrecking ball crash into her chest, and then she was flying. Right through a large pane of glass. Out into the night. And down…down…down…
Chapter Sixty-Eight
It all went down so fast. Lockman didn’t get up off the floor until Jessie had broken the king’s wrist. He had no fucking clue what was going on, but he held the dagger ready to back his daughter up.
She tore open the vamp’s face with her nails.
Lockman flinched. His mind reeled with visions of Jessie covered in blood, baring her fangs, feeding on him. Then she was back to herself. Only she wasn’t. She still had the fangs. And enough strength to tear through flesh with just her fingernails.