“Werw in Loosana, though,” Craig mumbled as he chewed.
“How far to New Orleans?”
Craig sat up, swallowed and turned around inside the cab of the truck. His voice came hollering back from inside. “Just another 70 miles or so. If your friends don’t take too long we can be there with plenty of time to spare before dawn.”
“Good. Go ahead and get some rest when you’re ready and I’ll have Tobias take over when he comes back from feeding. Thanks for all your help, Craig.”
“Oh, no problem, chief,” Craig said as he turned back to Simon and winked. “We get to the hive, I’ll be good and ready to get this show on the road. Been preparing a long time for this.”
Simon nodded and turned back to the trailer to send any remaining vampires off to the hunt so they could get on the road soon. He was ready to be there. Part of him longed to be near the Queen, but even more importantly the rest of him wanted to be somewhere that felt safe. And the hive was as good a place as any. Stepping up into the trailer, Simon realized that not only did he need to get the rest of the vampires moving if they were going to hunt, he could also no longer hold back his own need. It was time for his second feeding. There would be no more delay. The times of hesitation would need to stay behind him. Now that he knew how much he truly wanted to live.
Vampire or not.
* * *
What was the first thing George Nelson realized when he got home with the little book? He needed allies. He needed to surround himself with others who had a similar goal. He needed to find other people willing to fight by his side. But how do you look for a traitor when nearly everything that happens is overseen by the government? So, George started to do some research. He was very good at research. In fact his skills in researching were a big part of how he got the job working for Caesar in the first place. How ironic would it be, George wondered, if those very skills helped to bring the Emperor down to his knees?
A thin cool breeze hit George as he stepped down from the bus onto the sidewalk. A couple of impatient kids that had been waiting at the bus stop nearly knocked him out of the way as they jumped onto the rubber staircase of the bus. George shrugged them off and started east toward Jefferson Street at the next block. The gray clouds and damp concrete were nearly enough to drain the life from George's spirit. He put his hands in the deep pockets of his trench coat to warm them, trying to keep ahead of the game.
After all, he was doing the Lord's work—not the work of this blasphemous wolf in sheep's clothing—the true Lord's work. This was George's calling and he would accept it with humbleness and if the Lord willed for him to suffer in carrying it out then George would duly suffer and his deed would be done. Amen.
George nearly slid into the street as he turned on the wet-brown sidewalk at Jefferson. The alley was lined with two-story dark red-brick apartments each with narrow brown stairways extending down to the sidewalk. He slipped his hand inside his coat and ran his fingers across the damaged pages of the small book just to make sure it was still there. Quickly, he pulled the coat tightly around his body and shoved both hands back into his pockets.
The fourth apartment down caught his eye. There was a young girl, maybe four or five years old, half-dressed, drenched, and playing at the top of the stairs. He wanted to ask the poor girl where her dreadful parents were. Why they would leave her outside unsupervised on such a cold dreary day. But he swallowed instead and kept walking, knowing if he did take the time to do such a thing, he would miss his appointment. And this man he was supposed to meet—Charlie Duncan—he was not the type of man you kept waiting for long, if at all.
A few more stairways further, a dark narrow alleyway hid in between the red brick apartment building and a second darker blue one just like Charlie said it would. George slowed to a stop, looked across the street then behind him, and when he was fairly sure he wasn't being followed, he stepped into that dark wet opening, a puddle splashing under his foot. The deeper within he walked, the more the sunlight shriveled away and the outside world became an echo somewhere behind George.
He had already worked for what he'd come to believe might be the devil incarnate, and yet he was afraid of the people he would now have to deal with. What were some simple street thugs compared to such a vicious demon?
Up ahead the vibration of bass leaking out along the ground and walls from one of the nearby doors caught George's attention. A moment later that same door came bustling open and a man blasted out and landed face and shoulders first into the far wall and then fell into a heap.
"And don't you fuckin' come back here without no money, motherfucka, ya hear?" a thick black man said, staring down at the crumpled man. The bouncer had long hair pulled back tight into a ponytail, a toothpick in his mouth, and a thick brown aviator's jacket that was far too big on him. The poor soul on the ground only moaned in reply. The man with the ponytail went to go back inside when he noticed George standing there and staring. He gazed back at George like a vicious dog ready to bite.
"Watchoo want, ol' man? What the fuck you doin' back here?"
George held together his nerve and stuttered out some words.
"Charlie... Duncan... appointment..."
The man with the ponytail's snarl became a huge grin and he laughed wildly, his head tossing back over his shoulders in an exaggerated display of hilarity. "What's an ol' motha' fucka' like you doin' lookin' for Charlie Duncan? Mu’fucka, you look like you late fo’ church." He continued to burst with laughter. Each cackle only added to the tension in George's shoulders. He wanted to turn and run more and more with each second.
The man stopped laughing finally and sighed long and hard still grinning from ear to ear. "I'm sorry, gramps, we don't get many ol' folks in here. Come on, let's get you in and out of here in time for lights out at the nursing home." He snickered again, holding his arms in a "you first" gesture toward the door.
George stepped forward and hesitated in front of the entrance not wanting to take his eyes off of the man with the ponytail. There was a push and the next thing he knew he was catching himself against the wall inside. The ponytail man's hands slapped against his back to shove him again and George had just had enough.
"Take your hands off me. I can walk on my own without any help from you."
The ponytail man's smile smeared from his face. "All right then, gramps. Get to fuckin' movin' then." He spit the toothpick out of his mouth on the floor and looked back up at George. George turned and walked at a steady pace, putting extra force into each step. He wasn't going to be bullied around by some thug less than a third his age.
The thunder of bass grew louder as George made his way. Eventually some amber light crept in and led them out to a big open room that looked like the main part of a bar or club. All around, people sat at round tables playing games of cards and drinking from small clear glasses filled with ice and various colored liquids from dark black to a color matching the yellow overhead lights.
Half a dozen or so red-cushioned booths lined the walls at both sides of the room also filled with people playing different kinds of games, drinking beverages or eating hot steaming greasy meals. George stood in the middle of the room just taking it all in when ponytail man tapped his shoulder much more respectfully than his previous interactions.
"You lookin' for Charlie, you'll have to wait here. I'll go talk to boss man myself and make sure this appointment is still on. You stay right here and don't go anywhere, ya hear?"
George nodded as he took off his coat and folded it over his arm. "Yeah, I got it."
Ponytail walked over to one of the booths in the far corner and tapped the shoulder of a pale gritty man wearing a gray turtle neck and silver cross earings, and even grayer hair puffed out like an explosion. The man looked up at George with cracked red eyes with bright blue irises and nodded then turned back to his game of cards or whatever he was playing.
The ponytail man came back over to George and smiled. "Whatchoo know, ol' man, Charlie's just about ready
to see you. Follow me, and he'll be right wit' you."
George followed the man into a door behind the bar and down a long dimly lit hallway. The walls were a dark-painted thick wood with decorative arches all along the top and bottom. At the end of the hall was a single door just as darkly colored as the walls. Ponytail opened it and gestured to a desk with a large red chair behind it and several plain wooden ones in front of it. “Have a seat in one of these little chairs and Charlie'll be right wit' you."
Before George could respond the door closed and he was alone in the room.
Chapter 25
Bellona, The Goddess of War
Bellona watched with crimson reptilian eyes as Joseph lay sleeping, his chest rising and falling with each steady involuntary breath. She often wondered throughout the centuries what it was about him that held such power over her. He was a man, but he was not. A man who could not die. She caressed the firm naked skin of his right pectoral muscle. Most of all, Joseph was what she wanted more than anything. The one thing she couldn't truly have, control, lord over like she could her many vampire children.
The room started to vibrate with her anger. She fought the urge to pierce her jagged black claws into Joseph's flesh. She took a long moment focusing on the pores of his skin and where the follicles of hair sprouted from them. At such a magnification, these things looked so little like the elements of a living thing that she lost that sense of identity of what she was looking at. And finally she calmed some.
She removed her hand from Joseph's chest. Tiny rivulets of blood welled up from where her claws had started to make their entrance before she had gotten control of herself. A moment later the blood dried and the wounds were gone.
Joseph's eyes opened and locked onto Bellona's. "Should I fear you may rip out the still-beating heart from my chest if I so much as drift asleep?"
Bellona growled with playful laughter. "Why would I want to do such a thing? It's your still-beating heart that enthralls me the most about you. What wonder do you hold within such a heart? What flavor? And what power? Yet, like the delicate petals of the white orchid, such power only contains its beauty in life."
"Bellona! You speak as if my flesh were weak, vulnerable. Delicate."
Bellona batted her eyelashes. "If I truly wanted to, I could show you just how weak and vulnerable your bones and flesh and organs really are." She began caressing his chest again. "So, little human, don't tempt me." She grinned.
They reached for each other then with an inhuman swiftness and locked into a passionate kiss. As their mouths pressed together, their heads swiveling with the motion of each other, blood began to stream down from between their lips and smear on both of their faces as they pulled themselves together, body to body and made love again.
* * *
The moon's silver sickle hung upside down as the first "Darvender" truck arrived at the edge of the thick wet woods marking the last of its long travels. Ishan looked out beyond the darkness that separated the tall thin trees and felt the Queen's presence with more force than he had in decades. They were really here now. There were only a few hours of hand-and-foot travel in stealth between them.
Ishan put the truck in park and turned to wake Ross who was slumped against the passenger door of the truck's cab, a long string of slobber hanging from his mouth and pooling against the burgundy leather. Ross jerked awake at the mere touch of Ishan's hand against his bare flesh.
"Cold," he yelled and then mumbled something Ishan couldn't quite decipher.
"Ross, we're here. You'll need to take the truck to its final destination and meet us back at the hive when the sun has risen." Ross's eyes seemed to turn on like two bulbs of yellow light at the mentioning of the hive.
"Yeah, gotcha chief. Sorry about that. Didn't get m'self much sleep the past few nights. Just let me know when you've got everyone accounted for and I'll be on m' way." Ross's face twisted into a sort of strange smile and he nodded. Ishan had grown accustomed to the man's odd ways long before they'd had to make this long trip together. Ross carried an equal awe and fear for vampires. Which was perfectly understandable for any human, but his way of dealing with the two conflicting feelings wasn't quite as... stable as any other loyal member of the Foederati usually was.
Ishan nodded in return and got out of the cab, nearly floating down to the ground with graceful motion. He walked back to the end of the trailer and unlatched the lock. The door burst open and hundreds of vampires of all shapes and sizes came streaming out from behind the doors in swift silent flashes. A grin crept onto his face as he watched the blur of pale motion blast like light through the forest and then get swallowed by the trees. They were truly home again. It took all Ishan had not to howl out in excitement.
He took an unneeded long deep breath of air, taking in the scents of the swamp and the forest and then shot forward into the night, letting the darkness flow behind him like a cloak.
* * *
Hank had just regained his composure—at least as much as could be—when there was a loud tapping at the driver side window behind him. The sound caused him to jump up from his seat. In the window was one of the vampires he recognized from within the trailer. A tall man with stringy black wavy hair, a long nose, and soft blue eyes. The vampire called in to him through the muffling of the window.
"You wanna let me in, mate? I reckon you need some sleep, eh?"
Sleep. Though he thought it was likely the last thing he wanted after the vision, Hank nodded. He wasn't in any condition to be driving this rig right now anyway. Time to process what he had seen would be crucial. Time to figure out how to make sure it didn't happen. The vampire opened the door, not waiting for an invitation. Hank quickly thanked him and slipped behind the passenger side seat and into the bed in the back of the cab. He'd had no intention of sleeping, but as soon as his head landed in that pillow exhaustion took over and he fell into a heavy deep slumber.
When he woke, Hank knew they were there. He could see it in his mind's eye. They were at the place where he had first been in his dreams, in his visions. Somewhere nearby was that very cave. Somehow the Queen had reached out to him and tasted his blood and given him something in return.
Gravel crunched underneath the tires and the scene outside the windshield seemed to blur with movement in shades of green and brown as Hank got up from the bed. The truck was turning, maneuvering around trees and other obstacles.
"Eh, mate, sorry I woke you. It's probably for the best, though. We're pretty much here now." The black-haired vampire shifted gears and the truck came to a stop. "Here we are. The hive awaits."
Outside, a line of trucks were parked in random spots just at the edge of what appeared to be a lush swampy forest. Hank watched the wind blow against the branches in awe of the place. It was beautiful.
"Eh, you going to stand there gawking all night long? If so, suit y'self, I’m going to go unlock the trailer and let the others out. You need help finding your way around?"
"No... thanks though." Hank didn't take his eyes away from those trees. The door wasn't even open yet and he already knew what they smelled like. He'd already seen them before and yet their beauty still surprised him.
"All right. I'll leave you to it then." The door screeched open and the vampire got out and closed the door behind him. There was a loud clang from somewhere in the back of the truck Hank knew was the trailer being unlocked and then the cab shook for several moments. White flashes blasted into the forest and disappeared. The truck finally went still leaving Hank alone in the truck in the dark quiet night. He could feel her cool breath on the back of his neck. She was calling to him. The desire to do as she wanted was overpowering the immense fear that came with knowing just who and what she truly was. Inhuman on a level beyond any human vampire. Yet intelligent on a level her ancestor children could never conceive.
Hank slid between the seats of the cab and opened the passenger door of the truck. The need to go to her was immeasurable now. It was suddenly all he'd ever wanted or eve
r needed. And even then it was so much more. Stepping down to the ground, Hank closed the passenger door and started walking toward the dark wet forest letting the reflection of the moonlight wash over him. His mind was clouded and heavy.
Chapter 26
Charlie Duncan
George had been waiting for only a few minutes when the door burst open and in rushed Charlie Duncan like a silver bullet. There truly was no other way to describe it as the man was nearly clad in all gray and silver and he moved with the pace and cheer of a hyper child on Christmas morning.
"How you doin', George? It's great to meet you in person. Did my associate get you some coffee? I don't see any coffee—here let me get you some."
George just sat there unsure if he should respond. An instant later, Charlie handed him a plain white coffee mug complete with rising steam and warm porcelain.
"Now what can I do for you, George?" Before he could respond, Charlie pulled up a chair right in front of George and sat down and looked straight into his eyes. "Take your time."
George coughed and set the coffee on the desk beside him. A deep breath wasn't going to be enough to give him the courage he needed, but he figured it was a hell of a start. "I have a book of pictures that—if it became public—it could do some damage to the Emperor."
Charlie just stared at him for a long time looking like a stone wall sitting and waiting for the end of the world. Then he ran his hands through his huge mess of gray hair, pulling it down close to his scalp, so that when he pulled his hands away it practically catapulted back up into the same exact mess it was before. With the most serious deadpan look George had ever seen on another man, he spoke in a whisper.
"Do you have the book with you now?"
George nodded, reaching his hand into his coat more as a communication to Charlie that it was on his person than a move to pull out the book. Charlie nodded at an angle as if to say let's see it and George went ahead and grabbed hold of the book in his interior pocket. His arm was to the point of shaking as he handed the booklet over to Charlie. There was a slight tremor in Charlie's fingers as he fumbled the book to his lap and began flipping through the pages. This took away some of the shame that had stricken George in regards to the fear he felt handling the book. Whether it was a lifetime of following the rules or simply the fear of what the Emperor would do to him if he were caught, George wasn't sure, but his fear either way was very real indeed.
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