He already knew from his own experience the human vampires were unable to produce this venom themselves and therefore couldn’t make other human vampires. He also remembered the venom had traces of ancestor blood within it. But this man's heart beat as though he were still human. This was all so new to Ishan. It took a lot of experimentation and research to learn what they had so far, but it had never been thought of to feed ancestor blood to a human and observe the result.
Now, here was a live specimen. A human being who managed to find something they had not in merely a few hours. But as Ishan landed on the blacktop, causing a small earthquake, something else about the situation bothered him more. Exciting as this news was, it would also be very dangerous for the vampires and perhaps others as well. Ishan began to run. He reached a speed of roughly two hundred kilometers an hour in only a few short seconds. If the Empire found out the blood of the ancestors could give humans the strength of a human vampire, they would surely come to claim it as their own. They would use it against their enemies. They would want to learn to harvest the ancestors’ blood for themselves. They would want to know so much that had been, for centuries, kept safely secret. With that thought, Ishan mentally pushed himself and gained another twenty kilometers per hour in speed.
He had covered thirty or so city blocks when he caught the man's scent and began following it. It led well beyond the once-commercial districts of the city. He could make out a faint human heartbeat, its rate dropping quickly. Ishan's memory flashed for a moment to the taking of the city and his expression became bitter with distaste. If the ancestors hadn't needed the blood of so many, he would have let some of them go. For centuries now, it took all of Ishan's will to keep his compassion for them secret. He was sure if Peter found out, there would be no stopping what would come. The others would overthrow him. Peter would manage to gain their loyalty and they would help him take Ishan's blood. Once Peter had the blood, he would have all of Ishan's power. Ishan would die and Peter would be the strongest human vampire alive.
It was exactly how Ishan gained his place over a thousand years before. Had it really been so long? Eight centuries before Peter had even been pulled from his mother's mortal womb, Ishan, just over half his current age, took the blood from Romulus. Romulus had founded the city of Rome along with his brother Remus, in 753 B.C. Then, he killed his brother and disappeared into obscurity only to sit back and watch as his creation engulfed everything in its path. Romulus had only been a few hundred years older than Ishan when he killed him. So, the biggest impact was the change in leadership. But if Peter were to take Ishan's blood, there was no way to know what it would do to him. If Peter survived, the nearly three-thousand-year-old blood would give him unmatchable strength and speed.
All these thoughts ran through Ishan's mind as he turned corners, leapt over buildings, and slammed through trees while following the man's scent. As he cleared a house made of gray stone, the smell hit him intensely. The heartbeat was incredibly slow now. When he landed perfectly on his feet, he stopped and felt all the energy from his body burst into the pavement. A moment later, with little effort, he bounced out of the small crater the shockwave of his landing had made. He stalked through a cloud of black smoke expelled from the small explosion of blacktop. He followed the man's scent as it led him three houses down from where he landed. The heartbeat was almost gone now. Ishan came to the dusty yard of a dull gray house. With a movement of sheer grace, Ishan flashed through the yard and stood over the man. The convict lay on the ground just inside the demolished opening of a tan fence. Four ancestors were latched onto him, draining the last of the blood from his lifeless body.
Chapter 8
Message Undeliverable
The padded room sounded just as dead and artificial to Toby as it did the last time he’d slept there. By his count, it was the fifth day since he arrived at the orphanage and his fourth day in solitary confinement. He sat curled up with his legs intertwined at the head of the small bed, his blanket wrapped around him. This time the excuse for putting him in here was a fear for his safety. After finding him curled up on the floor of the outside hall, they said they were afraid he would try to hurt himself. So, this time they only allowed him a bed, a pillow, a blanket, and a bathroom. And though things were bleak and could only seem to get worse, he did feel a slight glimmer of hope. He could feel it in the very core of his existence, shining dimly like a single star in a dark cloudy sky. It was just that this one tiny star was surrounded by so much darkness. He shuddered as he breathed in, replaying the memory of his father being carried away from him. He swallowed and told himself he would just have to keep his focus on that single star.
He sat on the bed looking at the wall ahead of him. Pure white foam lined the walls in square, puffy patterns. Even the door, which stood directly in the center, was covered in the same fluffy-looking design. The only things in the room which didn't look like they were made out of clouds from heaven above were the four cameras, one hanging at each corner of the ceiling. The irony of the situation had dawned on him early on. They claimed to be afraid that, because he’d become so upset, he might be self destructive. With his father about to be executed or maybe already having been, what else was he supposed to feel? But here they went putting him in a locked room, leaving him with nothing but his thoughts.
He had almost fallen asleep staring at the glaring white wall when he heard the doorknob jiggle. He hazily looked up, confused by what he saw. The door was cracked open and a sly blurry face peaked inside the room. Toby blinked hard a few times to remedy the blurriness. After three times, when he opened his eyes, he was finally able to focus on the crooked grin hanging in the doorway. His heart went into overdrive as his brain matched the pattern of the face with its correct owner. Craig Thompson grinned wider when he saw that Toby had recognized him.
In the next instant, Craig came inside the room, closed the door behind him, and sneered down at Toby. Toby reached behind himself with as much stealth as he could manage. When he felt the bottom of the blanket, he hesitated for a second and then threw his arms forward, throwing the blanket overhand at Craig. As his opponent focused on the projectile coming for his head, Toby launched himself head first at Craig's unguarded abdomen. He was able to tackle him to the ground but his advantage didn't last long. Craig spun himself around as he stepped back up on his feet and swung an angry kick with his left leg into Toby's side. The blow knocked the air out of Toby's lungs. He fell forward flat on the ground and rolled onto his back as he tried to no avail, to draw air.
After a moment, he managed to breathe, but it was painful. Craig's expression now became one of cold hostility. He knelt forward, pressing his kneecap into Toby's chest and pinning the younger boy’s arms down with his enormous hands. Toby tried kicking his legs to get free or at least get a good hit in but it was no use. As soon as he would get closer to Craig with his feet, the huge lanky boy would cringe and push harder with his knee, piercing Toby's solar plexus with excruciating force. After a few more tries, Toby gave up and tried relaxing his muscles. As Craig continued to look down at him, that vicious grin returned. He leaned forward so his face was only an inch in front of Toby's. Toby's eyes almost crossed trying to refocus. Craig looked from one eye to the other, waiting until Toby could see him in all clarity.
"Tonight's the night you know," he said gently but with a sort of glee.
Toby didn't understand what he was talking about. Realizing this, Craig went on.
"In about an hour and a half a bus full of convicts will arrive in sin city just in time to pay their dues," he said, his eyes lighting up. "And I'm sure I don't have to tell you, little Toby, that your daddy is one of ‘em."
Toby's heart went into his throat and he felt a stiffening in all of his body. In one quick spasm, he sucked in all the phlegm he could gather into his mouth and blasted it up into Craig's face. Craig let go of his arms, scrambling to wipe the mess from his face. In that moment of surprise, Toby swung his left fist into Craig as har
d as he could. The punch knocked him out of the way. Toby stumbled to his feet and ran for the front, right corner jumping and waving his arms in front of the camera. He would have screamed, too, if he thought it would do any good.
As he jumped and flailed his arms, he heard something behind him. The next thing he knew, Craig held him in a full Nelson, lifting him off the ground. He felt warm, quick breath on his left shoulder.
"It's pointless to try and get someone's attention when there’s no one even there to see you," Craig said in a triumphant whisper. "My friend Byron mans these cameras at night. He loves to smoke. In fact, he loves to smoke so much that if I happen to supply him with a few packs of his favorite brand, he’ll gladly take a break from watching the camera of my choice," he added with arrogance.
Toby tried again to struggle but could only manage so much before the pain of Craig's squeezing, pulling his shoulders slightly from their sockets, became too much to bear. Toby's face began to soak with tears streaming from his eyes as he realized he was losing sight of that one tiny point of light that grounded him. As he wept, he felt vibration from behind him. He knew it was Craig’s laughter.
"Why don't you just kill me already?" Toby shouted in sobs.
"Oh, that would be too easy and not nearly enough fun," Craig said and laughed. "It will be much more fun to watch you die inside tomorrow when the news comes on the cafeteria TV and they list the names of those confirmed executed."
Exhausted, Toby lamely struggled again for a moment only to be overpowered all the same. In a powerful jolt, Toby felt his body thrown forward and he landed on the bed. Behind him came the sound of Craig slapping his hands together as if to dust them off.
"You have yourself some sweet dreams, now Toby, okay?" Craig said in between laughing. Then, Toby heard the door open and latch shut. He rolled over and looked up. Craig was gone.
He wondered if Craig spoke the truth. Was tonight really the night? Would Toby's father, the only person left in this world that mattered to him anymore, be drained of his blood by monsters tonight? He felt a shiver erupt through his body at the thought. He wondered how bad it would hurt. If his father would think of him. If he would cross the threshold of death and find Diana, or pass away into an unknowing oblivion. With that thought a long-forgotten memory flooded into his mind. He saw Diana on her death bed. He remembered the moment clearly now. His father had gone to get the two of them lunch. Diana hadn't been conscious the entire day. But for a brief moment while her husband was gone, she woke. She recognized Toby and asked him to come close. When he came close enough she kissed his cheek and smiled at him warmly.
"It won't be much longer," she said as if she were talking about the end of a season or a bad storm.
Toby didn't know what to say. As he looked at her like a deer in headlights, she spared him the need to speak and continued.
"It's okay, Toby. It's just the way of things, you know. I'm in so much pain right now. When it happens, well, I'll get a break from all of that, now, won't I?" she asked, looking into his eyes with a weak smile. She coughed fiercely for a moment then started to speak again as she grabbed Toby's hand, squeezing it tight. "When I'm gone, I want you to tell your father something for me. It's important. He's not going to want to hear it for a while. I know he won't. But when he's ready, and I know you’ll know it when he is, I need you to tell him this," she said before giving him the message. He squeezed his blanket firmly as he remembered this long-ago moment frozen in the back of his mind, obscured by daily life, adjusting to the loss of the only mother he ever knew. He never delivered the message and, now that his father was about to follow Diana to that cold place beyond the known, he would never be able to, either.
Chapter 9
For Toby
In the darkness that surrounded him, Hank began to see flashes of memories. He saw his father go off to fight in the great war in his United States Army fatigues. He saw his mother stand over his father's casket in the graveyard the day they buried him, just a month before Hank's fourteenth birthday. He saw Toby the day he was born, the little tuft of short golden hair barely covering his head. Then, he saw Diana. This time, he saw her from right before she died. Toby and Hank had spent the last month with her in her room at the hospital. Those last days she looked so drained and weak to him. She had always been strong and supportive, but now, she needed the support. Hank's face became red and irritated from the steady flow of tears covering it. Why did this have to happen to her? She was only thirty-seven. Hank held her hand as she lay there unable to speak, her chest rising regularly as her body took deep gasps of air.
The cancer snuck up on them. Hank and Diana had known each other for 17 years and shared only 10 of those years together. They met through Billy Mayfield just three years after the great war ended, during Hank's sophomore year of college. At the time, Diana was Billy's girl. Diana and Hank hit it off immediately. Hank constantly had to remind himself that she was with Billy. Through the years, things changed. Hank dropped out of college, Toby was born, and Diana went on to grad school. They barely kept in touch for years until chance would have it one day Hank picked her up in his cab. The two did some light catching up and exchanged phone numbers. One day a few weeks later, Hank came home to a message on his answering machine from Diana wanting to get together sometime. The next week the two of them took Toby, who was by then a strapping toddler with unruly blonde hair, to Eagle Creek Park for the day. Diana adored Toby and Toby took to her instantly. Within a few short months, Hank and Diana were married and bought a house on the west side of Indianapolis.
Diana was every bit as perfect for Hank as he always thought she would be. Toby already started calling her Mom before they even married. By the time they found the cancer, Toby was thirteen and already rebuilding his first car. He probably barely remembered that she was not his biological mother. The three of them were as close as any family could be, closer than most. Hank and Toby watched that day as her breath quickened faster and faster until she gripped hard on Hank's hand and then went limp. When the nurse took Diana's pulse and declared the time of death, Hank and Toby held each other and grieved over her empty body.
Hank watched this scene as though it were a movie. Only this was his life and his pain. It seemed so real, like he relived it. He wanted to die. He looked at Diana's face and the grief overcame him. She's dead, he thought, feeling the neverending shock of truth. Three years now and still it never failed to overcome him. He knew it would continue for as long as he dared to keep breathing. So, why not just give up, he thought. Maybe, just maybe, he could be with her again. Maybe he didn't have to fight so hard to stay alive. Maybe he didn't have to go through the pain day in and day out just to be there for Toby. Then, he felt a wave of deeper grief followed by intense guilt. Toby. How could he be so weak when Toby needed him so much?
He made himself detach from his feelings, reminding himself it was the past. He watched as a slightly younger version of himself and Toby hugged each other desperately. These last few years had all been for Toby. Hank made himself remember what was here and now and what was important. He was shocked to feel tears stream down his face as he made this decision. With the present filling Hank's mind, a desperation flashed over him. He knew he had to get up. For Toby. He had to get out of this place and find his son. He put all of his will into waking up. He thought of Toby growing up over the years. He pictured all the dangerous possibilities that could happen to the boy if Hank didn't make it. He told himself what he knew to be true within his heart.
Diana would want him to be there for Toby. Diana would want him to be strong. With that last thought, his will grew and he felt the darkness slip away. His eyes fluttered as he saw a different kind of darkness. After a moment, he realized he could see the ground really close to his face. Strange hands had wrapped around his head and pain seared in his neck. He experimentally tried to blink. It was pretty weak at first, but after a few tries he found he could do it. He could see the arms of the creatures as they held ti
ghtly to his head. His vision went in and out of focus as he felt the life continuing to drain out of him. Then, he opened his mouth wide. He took a deep breath and lunged his teeth into one of the vampire's arms. He heard a hiss come from directly above his ears and then it turned into a whole spectrum of sound after the creature's blood trickled into his mouth.
* * *
At first, Ishan thought the recovery of the convict's heartbeat was a figment of his imagination. But when the man bit hard into the ancestor's arm and began lifting himself up with three ancestors still attached to him, Ishan felt the greatest mix of surprise and excitement he had in years. He called to the ancestors in their tongue to let the man go. They obeyed with some resistance and floated up beyond his reach. The man looked up at them as if they should feel lucky to be flying at all. He didn't seem to notice Ishan. Ishan knew he could do this the easy way and take the man prisoner. But he also knew he would need the man to trust him to be of any value. So, he looked at the man, wet his lips, and spoke.
* * *
"Well done," a voice said from behind Hank.
Hank flipped himself around as quickly as he could, poising into a battle stance, vampire blood dripping down his chin. Before him stood a slightly short, light-complected man with long, black hair, black eyes wearing a nice black suit. The man smiled at him like you would smile at an animal you wanted to come to you. Hank stood still, waiting for the right moment to attack. A great urge came over him to drink more of the blood. It was so strong he almost started to look around for the backpack that came loose from him at some point.
"It's okay, Mr. Evans. I'm not here to harm you," the man said calmly, his smile becoming more genuine. Hank smiled back with mocking disgust.
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