Red Tide: The Flavel House Horror / Vampires of the Morgue (The Ian McDermott, Ph.D., Paranormal Investigator Series Book 2)

by David Reuben Aslin

  Clayton paused to catch his breath and collect his thoughts. Ian pondered over what Clayton had just said. Salizzar hides in plain sight. Why not? Clayton’s right. Nobody would ever be the wiser. Well, almost nobody.

  “Ian, you asked, or at least inferred to me, the question: what separates Hollywood from reality when it comes to type fours? What their powers are and how they can be destroyed. This is what I’ve come up with. Now granted, my suppositions on the subject are based, of course, on much stereotypical folklore, but they are also riddled with theories of my own.” Ian was all ears, hanging on Clayton’s every word.

  “I’ve come up with a phrase that I’m using in the book that I’m currently working on that I’ve titled Red Tide. One that describes some of their beyond natural abilities. The Unholy Power of Three.”

  Clayton once again paused. This time mainly to see if Ian was following him. Ian motioned for him to continue.

  “The Unholy Power of Three. I’ve derived that phrase from the antithesis of the Holy Trinity. I’ve come to believe that a vampire of some seasoning has about the strength of three men. They can move, run, jump, and so on around three times greater than that of any top athlete. All of their senses are enhanced to a factor of three above any human being. They also emit some kind of strong pheromones that help make them nearly hypnotically attractive beyond their natural appearance, which is usually already attractive. You see, generally speaking, vampires, if choosing to turn a human into one of their own, often target attractive people. I’m sure you can imagine attractive males and females naturally tend to make very successful hunters, so to speak.”

  Ian nodded. Clayton paused for a brief moment to re-adjust himself in his chair before he continued. “Supernatural attraction, along with a ravenous lust for human blood, added with a demonic desire to destroy souls, makes them extremely effective as predators of the human race. I believe their life-span, left unaffected by intervention, could be as much as or even greater than three times three … times three … centuries. Rounded up … Ian, that’s knocking on the door of three thousand years, or thereabouts. Of course, most are nowhere near that ancient. I’d guess that most are several hundred years old. Or in the case of the relatively recent, newly turned, not very old at all ... their gifts, or powers, would be much more limited.”

  Ian let out a sigh and began slowly shaking his head side to side, an unconscious reaction to the possibility of any or all of it.

  Clayton acknowledged Ian’s astonishment. “I know. It bends my mind too just thinking about it. But freak accidents and over the last few centuries the likes of witch hunters, exorcists, and even vampire hunters have reduced their numbers.”

  Somehow, hearing about some vampires being caught and exterminated by witch hunters was almost comforting to Ian. If it was true, it helped dispel his understanding of the history of places like Salem, Massachusetts, that all of the witch-trials never accomplished anything other than torturing and murdering the innocent.

  Clayton continued, “They have always desired that their numbers be relatively few by comparison to humans. This helps protect their anonymity as well as protect over-grazing their food supply.”

  Clayton paused to see if Ian was staying with him. Not only was Ian keeping up, his intrigue was nearly becoming fever pitched. Ian couldn’t help himself from interjecting a quick question that had been burning in his mind ever since Clayton had begun speaking on the present topic. “Clayton, are they … type fours … really literally nosferatu, the undead?”

  “Now that’s an excellent question, Ian ... and nice word usage, ‘nosferatu’. No. Not really. Not literally, anyway. They are alive just assuredly as I am. But as you can imagine of a species that can live for hundreds if not thousands of years, their metabolism is much slower than that of humans, creating the illusion of no breath, no heartbeat, and no pulse. As you know, they feast by drinking blood, and of course in doing so, one must assume eventually they must urinate and defecate, albeit not frequently by human measure. I believe when they feast, they gorge. But if necessary, they can go a long time without sustenance much like the serpent.”

  Ian looked Clayton directly in his eyes, and with a tone to his voice that undoubtedly let Clayton know in no uncertain terms that he was dead serious, he fired off another question.

  “All right, Clayton. Under the assumption that you are even half-right on your theories, how would a person …”

  Clayton interrupted, “How would a person dispatch such a formidable demonic creature?”

  Ian replied without hesitation, “Yes.”

  Clayton cleared his throat. “Of this much I’m confident. Total incineration – fire – cleanses and purifies just about anything. Decapitation is also a sure bet. And there’s always the old standby though overplayed by Hollywood, but in this case, it holds true: total destruction of the heart as in the plunging of a stake directly through it, or some other instantaneous obliteration of the creature’s heart.”

  At hearing that, Ian had to ask, “Does it need to be a wooden stake like in the movies?”

  Clayton answered quickly, “It may be devised of any strong substance: Wood, metal, or plastic for that matter. Just as long as it’s sufficiently driven through the heart to instantly and utterly destroy it. Or in the case of life in the twenty-first century, I should imagine that any sufficiently large caliber bullet, especially if fired repeatedly directly into the heart, should affect the same result. But Ian, mind you, you heard me say words like instantly and utterly. I use these words not lightly because another thing that I am convinced of is that true vampires are tough buggers to eliminate. If an absolutely vital organ is not totally, instantly destroyed, they will regenerate in their sleep in …”

  Ian interrupted Clayton. “Don’t tell me. Three days just like Jesus regarding the holy resurrection.”

  Clayton smiled. “That’s right, Ian. Now, you’re getting it. That would be the time it takes for total regeneration of a near-fatal wound. Less than near fatal wounds heal at a much, much faster rate depending on the severity of the wound inflicted. Simple flesh wounds and bruises may heal nearly instantaneously depending upon the age and power of the particular vampire, which works backwards to normal nature. The older the vampire, the faster it heals and the more difficult to kill. But my research does point to the suggestion that certain physical laws or universal constants apply even when dealing with the demonic supernatural of even the most powerful persuasion. As an example, they can’t just defy gravity and simply up and fly away. That is, unless they could in fact shape-shift into a creature of flight like, say, a bat or a swarm of locusts. And I suspect ancient vampires of millennia ago may have had such abilities, giving birth to legends of dragons and the like. As you know, myths and legends generally have some foundation based in fact. But if there is any truth to the extreme ancients having the power of shape-shifting, it probably keeps that they could only change into the foulest of creatures. It is unlikely in the extreme that any such beings could have survived to the present.”

  Ian pondered to himself, Oh ... shape-shifters exist. He’d been painfully educated on that subject back at Harmony Falls. But at least for now, he was keeping that knowledge to himself.

  Due to Clayton unselfishly sharing information and his theories, Ian was becoming bolder with his questions. “Clayton, what about sunlight? Will that destroy them?”

  Clayton smiled slightly as he shook his head. “No, Ian. Not likely. But just as I listed as associated with type threes, type fours also suffer severe allergic reactions to direct sunlight and any form of ultraviolet light for that matter. But severely sunburned skin or burnt retinas will not kill them. Well, unless I suppose they were out on a sunny day in July from say sun-up till sun-down. Suffice it to say, unlike what you’ve no doubt seen in movies, that would not be a practical way to attempt to dispatch one. The ultraviolet exposure would have to be a very intense, protracted exposure to be potentially life-threatening to them. Anyway, no. The
y will not blow up or spontaneously burst into flames. Nor will sunlight cause their skin to sparkle like diamonds, whereby exposing them to the world for what they are, as one of my more romantically-inclined literary contemporaries depicted in her sickeningly-sweet series of teen and female-targeted novels.”

  Ian decided before Clayton’s last rant headed them off course that he’d fire a short burst of more questions. “How about crosses? Uh, you know, crucifixes. And holy water? What about mirrors and having to rest in coffins or boxes filled with their native soil, garlic and … or a … Oh yeah, and silver and wolfsbane. Or was that just for werewolves?”

  Clayton cracked a grin as he quickly interjected, “Know something of werewolves, do you?” Ian didn’t answer.

  Clayton gazed for a moment out the window at the ocean. But within mere moments, he returned his focus to Ian and began replying to Ian’s questions with composure and congeniality.

  “Being they are at least blood-connected to descendants of demonic copulations, I should think that vampires do have an inherent aversion to all things of Judeo-Christian symbolism. Likely to relics and artifacts from other religions that speak of one God as well. But I am certain that they can, if need be, tolerate them. One would not simply turn away and run at the sight of a crucifix, and a vampire I’m also certain will only be made wet if doused with holy water. The vampire may not like such things, but if you find yourself its target of revenge or potential food, I wouldn’t place my faith in such trinkets and blessings. As for silver, werewolves, from all the information I’ve collected, are severely allergic to it, but we are talking about vampires. Silver and things such as mere plants like garlic and wolfsbane used successfully to repel or destroy a vampire are utter, folkloric nonsense. I should think that due to their own vanity, vampires would like mirrors and even silver. Anything that offers a reflective surface that allows them to gaze upon their ageless selves.” Ian nodded once in acknowledgment that Clayton’s theories at least seemed to follow a semblance of logic.

  Clayton continued. “Now, the answer to your next question is a resounding yes. If I’ve guessed correctly to where your next follow-up question would have led. Of course, they will cast a reflection in a mirror or any reflective surface. Now, to address if vampires must sleep in any form of a coffin or box or seek out dark, dank surroundings that, say, mimic that of a grave or graveyard or must rest upon terra firma of their homeland. Stuff and nonsense, rubbish that is, unless they have a particular proclivity to maintain themselves as a damp, musty, severely-soiled, claustrophobic vampire. A room sufficiently void of sunlight is all they need. Well that ... and a comfortable mattress is generally desirable ... one would assume.”

  Ian and Clayton both smiled. Ian chuckled just a bit as he shook his head back and forth at Clayton’s levity. He was beginning to run out of questions, but then primarily due to his recent experience back at Harmony Falls, Ian blurted out, “What about shape-shifting into bats or wolves or into mist? You know, like …”

  Clayton nodded his head. “Like Dracula? Well, Ian, I thought I covered that, but ... and here is where I’m probably going to lose you ... because I believe in the possibility of all of those powers. Like I mentioned before, shape-shifting and perhaps even more powers than we’ve discussed were possibly true at one time with the ancient, pure-blood, nephilim vampires. But thankfully, I believe that all or at least most of those types of powers have been lost over time due to blood-line dissemination. As an example, say two thousand years ago a vampire might have been a quarter or maybe even a half-blood demon spawn. But after hundreds of years of countless copulations by his decedents, well, you see where I’m going with this theory. Most vampires for the last few hundred years, and especially those created in or near present time, are only fractionally of demonic bloodline and therefore have lost many of the more spectacular abilities. And yet at least one aspect of vampirism remains as it has always been in literature, film, and in fact: the blood is the life.”

  Ian interjected, “Clayton, you said earlier something about them limiting their numbers. How is that possible if by being bitten, a person transforms into …” Clayton held up his right hand, signaling to Ian that he needn’t go further down that path.

  “Humans are food to them. As such, if bitten by a vampire, one does not just change into one of them. If that were the case, humans over a few centuries would have all become vampires, causing the extinction of both the human race as well as vampires. No, you have to be chosen by a vampire and specifically turned. No surprise. It takes being bitten and not sucked dry three times. Again, the power of three. This must occur over a span not to exceed three consecutive, or maybe I should have said ‘con-suck-utive’, days.” Clayton grinned impishly as he delivered that last line. Ian chuckled as he slowly shook his head.

  “Ian, this is important to remember. Vampires do typically sleep during the day, but they can go about their business, so to speak, during the day if they so choose. They tend to only feed at night though they can be equally deadly day or night. Again, they can sleep in any dark place. Though some, like Salizzar, I would expect do sleep in coffins mainly out of theatrics.”

  “Oh yeah … right.” Ian said, feeling almost silly.

  “Ian, based on my research, this is my theory about humans being turned into vampires or being put under their control. The first and second bites affect certain mental and physical changes to the victim or volunteer. The degree of the stages of change differ somewhat with each individual infected. And the initial depth of effects from the infection can vary depending upon how ancient the vampire was that initiated the biting. Typically, a person’s will remains mainly their own post-first bite. But after being bitten a second time, the lust for blood begins to become more uncontrollable. There can even become a psychic connection or link that develops between vampire and their familiar. Ian, I’m confident in your field you’ve heard of the term ‘familiar’ as used in the context that I just did?” Ian nodded.

  Clayton continued, “Besides being somewhat hypnotized at the time of the attacks, it still is an incredibly painful process each time one is bitten. What occurs after being bitten thrice as best I can describe to my understanding, is like an amalgamation of the perfect infection with aspects of demonic possession. At face value, it can be very seductive. It seems more blessing than curse with the offering of perfect health and near immortality. But besides turning you into a charming (when desired), overtly attractive, homicidal monster, one that has an insatiable lust for human blood, it also unfortunately carries the terrible price of losing one’s soul. Of that much, I’m certain.”

  Ian started thinking about Clayton’s wine earlier, how it appeared to him to be too viscous, as he mused over a little theory he was beginning to develop of his own, Ian mused. Gives new meaning to, “Once bitten, twice shy,” and “Three’s a charm.” Ian’s concentration was suddenly interrupted by the doorbell.

  Clayton got up from his chair and picked up his cane. He walked to the front door. It was the young pizza delivery man. He was nearly out of breath and blurted out, “I’m real sorry about being late with your delivery, Mister Collins. I had a flat tire on the way and had to change it to the little doughnut spare.” The young man pointed to his car in the driveway.

  Clayton smiled and replied, “No harm, no foul, Tim. Nothing that a microwave can’t reheat if need be. Glad you weren’t injured.” Clayton thanked him for getting there as soon as he could given the circumstances. Clayton paid for the two pizzas plus a tip sizeable enough to generate a smile on the young man’s face.

  Tim replied, “Sweet. Thanks, Mister Collins. See ya next time.”

  Clayton turned and went back into the house, pizzas in hand, and set them down on the dining room table. “Ian, if you don’t mind, let us wait a few more minutes. I’m sure that niece of mine will be along shortly. She’s typically a bit more than fashionably late.”

  Ian smiled. “Certainly. No problem!”

  Clayton went
back over to his favorite chair and sat down. “Say, Ian, there’s one thing you haven’t yet asked me about type fours that surprises me.”

  “Yeah? What’s that?” Ian said with a puzzled look on his face. He thought they’d pretty much covered everything.

  “You never asked me about fangs!” Clayton said very matter-of-factly.

  Ian lifted his eyebrows as he slowly nodded.

  Clayton continued, “When they feed, one of the seven seals, the seven faces of Samael – Satan – is unveiled. Demonic, with fangs and all.”

  Ian couldn’t hold back his sixty-four-dollar question any further. “Clayton, it seems pretty clear that you’ve got more than just cursory research knowledge about all of this. You’ve been bitten by Salizzar, haven’t you?”

  Suddenly, the doorbell began ringing once again. Clayton flashed a sly grin as he replied, “Bitten by Salizzar? Ridiculous. Ah, saved by the bell!” Clayton got up from his chair, walked over, and opened his front door.

  “Hiya, Unc. Sorry I’m late. I had to stay a little longer at the shop than expected. Problems with a lady’s perm. Where’s your Mercedes? Did you pick yourself up an older Jeep station wagon for four-wheeling out on the beach?”

  Clayton smiled at his niece. “No. The Jeep’s not mine. My car’s in the garage.”

  Zoey walked right past Clayton into the house. She immediately spotted Ian seated on the couch as she blurted out, “Oh, I didn’t know you had company.”

  Ian spoke up, “The old Jeep’s mine.”