Vampire Fire

by J. R. Rain

  Next, a swarm of tiny dark shapes poured through the open window and into the sitting room. They swirled above the glass coffee table, forming a sort of black vortex. Had this been night, I would have seen their tiny, glowing bodies, too, as even the smallest of creatures sparked with a life force.

  Dracula raised a hand and gestured, a number of the creatures peeled away from the vortex and filled the bowl before us, pouring in as if from a container in the sky. When the bowl was near to overflowing, Dracula swiped his palm, and the remaining mosquitoes circled once more, dispersed, and headed back through the open window.

  Dracula reached over and fished out a plump one. “A freshly fed mosquito, as commanded by me. Here, try it. Hold out your hand.”

  Truth was, I could smell the fresh blood, coursing through all those tiny little spindly bodies. Sure, I might have missed the scent from one or two of them, but a bowlful of them was a different story. A bowlful might as well have been a bowl filled with fresh blood.

  And the smell of it was driving me crazy. I held out my hand and Dracula dropped a fluttering creature into my palm. Although it seemed perfectly fine, it did not fly away. Indeed, it seemed to be moving in circles on my hand, its wings flashing haphazardly.

  “It does not fly away,” I said, curious.

  “No, Sam. Nor will it. It is, quite frankly, waiting to be consumed.”

  I glanced at the woman sitting quietly in the chair, near the main archway into the room. Had she, too, been waiting to be consumed? Perhaps a part of her had been. But a deeper part of her had been trapped under the layers of suggestions, no doubt screaming to be heard.

  We are monsters, I thought. And the more I see, the more monstrous we are.

  The mosquito was fat from having recently fed. On what I didn’t know, but the longer I held it the more I knew I couldn’t resist. And, like eating a Tic-Tac, I popped it in my mouth.

  I wanted to squirm. I wanted to laugh and say all the things anyone in their right mind would say in protest. But I didn’t protest. Instead, I bit down and felt the small body pop sweetly over my tongue. I was instantly overwhelmed by one simple fact. It was completely delicious.

  “Unlike me, Sam, you can consume its body.”

  Indeed, he had to spit out the mosquito bits, lest he risk vomiting them up later. I knew the feeling. My opal ring gave me the ability to eat anything, including mosquito bits, which I did now, swallowing.

  “Pig blood,” I said, nodding. “I know the taste well.”

  But this was different. This was fresh and warm and yummy.

  “I imagine you do. Teach yourself to summon the animals of the earth, Sam. They will gladly feed you. Now, won’t you have some more?”

  I looked at his proffered hand, at the fluttering black bodies, then shook my head. Dracula shrugged and dropped them back into the bowl. I just couldn’t risk inadvertently consuming even a droplet of human blood. At least, not right now, and not with Elizabeth so close to the surface.

  My phone vibrated again. I nearly reached for it, but resisted. Something was going on, obviously. I sensed it now, but I was so close to getting my answers with Dracula, that I did something I rarely did. I reached into my pocket and, without looking at my phone, silenced it, even from vibrating.

  I got right to it. “Help me find Danny,” I said.

  Dracula looked at me long and hard, his eyes flashing fire in the gloomy room. I sensed he was contemplating a bargain of his own; instead, I was pleasantly surprised when he said, “I cannot tell you where Daniel Moon is, for I do not know. But I can tell you where he isn’t.”

  I waited, wondering where this was going.

  Dracula sat back and crossed one leg over the other and adjusted the drape of his black jeans. “But to answer your question, Sam, I will need Cornelius to take over from here.”

  I inhaled, nodded. “Okay.”

  Dracula closed his eyes and dropped his head. A moment later, he shuddered. A moment after that, he raised his head and looked at me.

  “Good afternoon, Sssamantha Moon.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “You are Cornelius,” I said.

  “But of course.”

  Dracula the man sat across from me, hands in his lap, eyes slightly rolled up into his head, a grin forming on his face. Just a small grin, not quite the uncontrollable expressions I had seen from the biker, Taggart, a few days ago. One thing was obvious: Dracula had been taken over. Possessed thoroughly and completely.

  He allowed it, I thought, mystified at such an agreement. But I won’t allow it. Not now, not ever...

  Elizabeth veritably exploded out of my mind upon hearing Cornelius’ evenly-paced voice. But I stopped her cold. Commanded her to retreat, willing her to return to the shadows. I could have locked her up tight, but I didn’t. I was, if anything, grateful to Elizabeth for arranging this little afternoon meeting, so I let her hang around. I let her listen, but no more than that. I had the image of a small child peeking from around the hallway corner at the adults speaking in the living room. Except this was no child I was dealing with. Not by a long shot.

  “Won’t you let my Elizabeth out, Sssamantha Moon?”

  “No,” I said. “End of discussion.”

  “You seek my help, but you won’t give anything in exchange?”

  “Not with you, and not with Elizabeth.”

  Dracula’s—or Cornelius’—smile rose a fraction of an inch. Despite the forced smile, I knew Cornelius was not happy. Now, he turned his head this way and that, and I sensed he was getting comfortable in Dracula’s skin. I also felt his eyes searching me, crawling over me.

  “You are a pesky little bitch,” he finally said.

  “And you’re a creepy asshole,” I said. “And with that out of the way, let’s talk.”

  His eyes rolled in the sockets. The half-smile on Dracula’s face began a very slow retreat. “Very well, Sssamantha Moon. I will play by your rules, for now. It is enough to know that my Elizabeth is so very close. So very, very close.”

  He nearly reached out to touch me, and I nearly punched him in the face. Yes, Dracula I found interesting. This demonic, possessing, dark master inside him, not so much. That his female counterpart was within me was depressing, to say the least.

  He folded his hands in his lap, nodded, and seemed to regain control of himself—or over Dracula. He said, “The devil is no fool, Sam.”

  “Never said he was.”

  “There are no deals with the devil.”

  “I never made one. Not really.”

  “You are in agreement with him, Sssamantha. You are an agent for him, in effect. This is not good. You must move forward with caution.”

  “Duly noted.”

  “The devil is not a friend of ours, and, thus, no friend of yours. Remember that well.”

  “Not a friend. Got it.”

  “We have spent lifetimes seeking one like you, Sssamantha. You are invaluable to our plans. The devil knows this. He also knows that he cannot reach us.”

  “He seeks to destroy you, too.”

  “Of course, Sssamantha. We are beyond his reach. At least some of us are.”

  I knew who he was talking about. “Danny.”

  “A promising young recruit, your Daniel Moon...”

  He wasn’t mine. Not for a very long time, but I let it slide.

  “...Yesss, very promising. Unfortunately, he sided with an offshoot branch of our order.”

  “Offshoot?” I said. “Order?”

  “Why, yes, Sam. An offshoot that conspired to kill you. Surely you do not think we want you dead, do you?”

  “I’m leaning toward no?”

  “We need you cooperative, if anything. Your bloodline and soul line are rare, Sam Moon.”

  “Soul line?”

  “Your soul’s evolution throughout the ages. You have steadily increased in strength. Indeed, in this lifetime, you would have been quite formidable.”

  “As a witch,” I said.

&nbs
p; “Indeed. But we had other plans for you.”

  I waited, and for a brief second or two, Cornelius blinked, and the cold eyes softened. I was certain that I saw the man who was Dracula watching me. But then, the eyes blinked again and Cornelius was back, his stare frosty and unblinking.

  He said, “As you know, we seek she who can lift the veil. She who can pull back that which separates worlds. That which keeps us prisoners. You are she. You are that rare convergence of power.”

  I rolled my eyes. I could almost hear Tammy laughing at this. My sister, too. Then again, my sister had been kidnapped by the “offshoot” branch of which he had spoken. My sister, these days, found all of this terrible indeed. Still, the old Mary Lou would have laughed at the heavy melodrama of it all.

  “Yay, me,” I said.

  “I do not understand—”

  I cut him off. “Keep you prisoners where?” I asked.

  “It is not wise to speak of this place to you, Sssamantha.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you are not one of us. Not yet.”

  “Not ever. What is this business about an offshoot?”

  He nodded. “A rival band of dark masters, Sssamantha. Although I am hesitant to call them dark masters. True, many have mastered the finer, darker arts, but many still are weak and some have not mastered even death, not completely.”

  “And they are your rivals.”

  “All are our rivals, Sssamantha.” He paused. “Tell me, sssister... what is it that you fear so? Have we not given you eternal life? Eternal power? Have we not made you a god among man? Have you not seen many wonders? Is there not any gratitude inside you at all?”

  I opened my mouth, ready for a quick retort, but then closed it again. Cornelius had, of course, hit upon one of my great internal struggles. Vampirism was both a blessing and a curse, in every sense of the words. Yes, I had been blessed with great powers, mind-blowing abilities, gifts of the rarest kind. But I had not asked for them. But I had been cursed, too. If the empty void was what awaited me in the afterlife—that is, if and when a silver dagger pierced my heart—then I had, indeed, been cursed to high heaven. Or from heaven.

  And no. I wasn’t about to thank the entities that were conspiring to fully take me over—and usher into this world the very plague that was them.

  And so, I suggested—very politely and calmly—that he go fuck himself with something pointy and rough, something akin to what Dracula himself might have used to impale his many victims. Neither Dracula nor Cornelius seemed to like the suggestion, nor did they seem pleased with an angry and bitter Samantha Moon. An angry and bitter Samantha Moon wasn’t pleased with them either. After all, they had caused much death, mayhem, and unrest. Especially in my own life.

  Finally, Cornelius said, “You will see the light someday, Sssamantha Moon. You will see the light and you will come around to our side. Of this, I have no doubt.”

  “You should have doubts,” I said.

  “I will not try to convince you that you are better off now than you were before. That you have been given every gift known to man—”

  “Except the gift of sunlight, food, and the afterlife.”

  “Food and sunlight are overrated. And immortality is yours.”

  “Until someone drives a silver dagger into my heart.”

  Cornelius smiled. It was, I noted, clearly not Dracula’s slightly warmer smile. He said, “There are ways to avoid even that, Sam. Join us, and I will show you.”

  “Refer to the part where I said, ‘go fuck yourself’ and all that business with the stake and such.”

  Cornelius smiled and tilted his head. “Perhaps we should move on.”

  “A good idea,” I said.

  “Very well. Your Daniel Moon was not taught enough to cross into our world—our plane of existence, that is. But he was taught enough to avoid the dark one.”

  “The devil,” I said.

  “Yesss.”

  “And you know this how—wait, you have your spies.”

  “Of course, Sam Moon. We have eyes and ears everywhere.”

  “Creepy, but good to know. Tell me where I can find him.”

  “You are an investigator, are you not?”

  “I am,” I said. “And you’re my best lead.”

  “Then let me give you a clue, Sssamantha Moon. He who is not proficient in the dark arts will gravitate to what is known.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I am but a humble dark master,” said Cornelius.

  “Bullshit. What do you know?”

  “I know that not very long ago, a little boy let loose a low-level dark master. A dark master that had been bound to a book, no less—thanks, in part, to the work of a man you know well.”

  “Maximus,” I said.

  Cornelius winced, which didn’t surprise me. Archibald Maximus—and other alchemists like him, Light Warriors all—had, in fact, banished the dark masters to their present netherworld. An existence, I suspected, that was far from desirable, considering how much the masters sought to return.

  “Yesss... him.”

  But I wasn’t listening or thinking straight. My heart, normally dormant, had awakened with a fury, pounding in my chest, perhaps to alert me. It had to—since my own warning system had remained oddly silent, a warning system I was coming to realize that was meant only for me.

  Not for my family.

  And not for my son.

  My son! I snatched my cell phone from my pocket, and saw that I had missed twenty-two phone calls, and countless text messages. The one on top was, perhaps, the scariest message I have ever received. Ever.

  “Mom!!” Tammy had texted. “They took Anthony! Where R U???”

  Chapter Eighteen

  I reappeared in my minivan, praying like hell there wasn’t anything or anyone sitting in the front seat. Like Allison’s purse. Or Allison’s booty, for that matter. She knew enough about what I did and how it theoretically worked to leave a space for me to return. I hoped.

  My seat, mercifully, was empty.

  Allison, who sat hunched over her phone in the passenger seat, promptly screamed when I reappeared. She dropped her phone, and by the time she had picked it up again from the floor mat, I was mostly through the worst of the disorienting dizzy spell.

  “Sam! Oh my God, Sam. Everyone’s been trying to reach you—”

  “Just tell me what happened.” I had reached for my own phone but didn’t want to waste the time scrolling through the messages. “What happened to Anthony?”

  She shook her head—and tears sprang from her eyes. “I didn’t know what to do, Sam—if I left and you never got the message—or moved the van somewhere you weren’t expecting it to be—or—”

  “Never mind all that, goddammit! What happened to Anthony?”

  “They got him, Sam—”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Where?” I was already starting the minivan.

  “His school—”

  I could teleport, but I didn’t know where, exactly. A part of me didn’t care who saw me appear out of thin air. But I couldn’t take the chance of teleporting into someone or something. Besides, his school wasn’t very far at all.

  Gunning the minivan, I whipped through the alley behind Alicia’s—and exploded out onto Berry Street. Once there, I floored it, caring little for the safety of others or for the law—and trusting my instincts and cat-like reflexes to keep us alive long enough to reach Anthony’s school.

  ***

  There were a half dozen of us in the principal’s office, including Detective Sherbet and a recently-arrived Kingsley Fulcrum. Not able to reach me, in desperation, Tammy had called Kingsley. Allison sat with Tammy just outside the closed door.

  I knew Tammy was scanning anyone and everyone’s mind for any possible lead. She’d told me this between her hysterical apologies and before Allison could take her hand and sit with her, echoing my own words that none of this was her fault.

/>   Whatever this was.

  A kidnapping, I thought. In broad daylight.

  My son...

  The spacious office was buzzing. Officers and detectives spoke urgently. Phones rang. Walkie-talkies crackled. Someone shouted. Sherbet was huddled with the principal as I paced in a fast, tight circle, running my fingers through my hair, wanting to pull my hair out, too. Wanting to hurt everyone in the room.

  My mind wasn’t right, wasn’t here either. It certainly wasn’t making heads or tails of the myriad of voices and phone calls and shouts I was hearing. I already knew there was a camera crew positioned in front of the school. I had no idea how many cruisers were flashing out front. Ten? Twenty? Maybe more. People everywhere. Voices everywhere. Some crying. Loud, hysterical gasps coming from me, gasps I couldn’t control.

  More pacing. Pushing fingers through my hair. Sherbet speaking to me. No idea what he said. Buzzing everywhere. Static in my ears.

  I shouldn’t be here. I should be finding my boy, hunting down the fuckers who took him.

  Who took him?

  Who took him?

  No one knew. I heard the words, “masked assailants” and “black van.” I heard the words, “abduction.” I heard the words, “He put up a hell of a fight.” I heard the words, “never seen anything like this before.” I heard the words, “all hands on deck,” and “intensive search.” I knew there was an APB on the van, along with an Amber Alert. I knew that everyone and anyone were looking for my son. Except he hadn’t turned up, not yet.

  I also heard something else, something else that was repeated often: “Second abduction in three years.”

  I had known about the first abduction, of course. I knew a girl had been abducted walking home from Anthony’s middle school three years ago. She’d never been found, nor had her abductors. There had been no real tips, either, and certainly no arrests.

  I heard more words, too, incomprehensible words, words that seemed to come from everywhere at once. Promises that we would get him back. Most sounded sincere. Most didn’t know how to sound.

  Mostly, no one knew anything.

  Nothing. Nothing at all.

  I paced.