“Rather would I take our rightful position forthwith and later debate it from a position of power. They will soon realize that without us they are doomed, against us they cannot hope to prevail and with us their survival is guaranteed. And then, even then, though we need not, but then we show them compassion and leniency. Then they see that we are not the evil of old to be feared, rather the rightful rulers to be adored, bringing them strength, education and culture from across the ages and a new, purer, more communal way of life. First the sting of the whip; later the soft embrace of the glove.”
His eyes were shining and clearly he believed in this cause at least as much as Farzin did. His words could just as well have come from Farzin himself. However whereas Farzin’s intentions were born of cruelty and a thirst for centuries of revenge, perhaps Ricardo was genuinely motivated by a belief purely in the superiority of the vampire and a desire to take their rightful place. Perhaps he actually meant what he said and he would genuinely show a measure of clemency and kindness towards the humans. Perhaps; but Farzin would most assuredly not.
This was an argument that Darius had endured many times over the previous few weeks and he was weary of it. He sensed Max in the shadows and could feel him bridling with anger with the assumption that Farzin and this new character had already concocted their plans. Whatever those plans may be, Darius hoped they did not intend conflict tonight. Even with Luca and Max that would make it the three of them against five and they were not odds that he relished. Were it not for Simeon he would have no qualms, but the size of the creature really was something to behold and he feared that the three of them would be overcome. If Sebastian were there as well and assuming that he would side with his Clan Leader, then that could just make the difference. But Darius had no idea where he was. He smiled at Ricardo and nodded slightly, acknowledging his words and wanting to keep the situation under control.
“Indeed you paint a beautiful picture but it is my firm, no, my unshakeable belief that to conquer what humans we come across now and rule them as though by some divine right would not endear them to us. They may bear that yoke for a while, but no civilization that was put under the cosh ever came to adore their masters. We may enjoy a period of dominion but that would not last long and henceforth they would have a reason to hate us and a reason to hunt us down. I look not only to the immediate future but into the distance to pave the way for generations of harmony between us."
His words landed upon Ricardo like lead; there was no bounce, no give, just a definitive thud as they landed at his feet and shattered around him. For a moment the two locked gazes and Darius wondered, is this it? Should he have played for time until Sebastian returned? Is this the moment that Farzin had planned to react to? Is the treason complete? But Ricardo smiled still.
“I see you are as entrenched in your opinions as I am in mine, and although I do not share your sentiments, I do respect them. Laudable sentiments indeed and I hope not misguided. I trust that one day we will rise to our rightful position, whether through your path or mine.
“We have already taken enough of your time and for this I thank you. We shall leave and seek our fortune, and hopefully fairer pastures, elsewhere. I wish you and your clan all the prosperity that you deserve.” He seemed to stare more closely at Darius and spoke directly to him, as though this final message was for him and him alone. “We shall not meet again. I bid you farewell.”
He stepped backwards until he was beside Simeon, paused, then the two of them bowed low and turned, alighting the window sill a moment before dropping into darkness.
They had hardly receded into the night before Darius spoke again, just one chilling word laced with venom and accusation.
“Traitor!”
He leapt and covered the distance in a single bound, moving faster than anyone could react. As he landed he lashed out with a blow. He struck Farzin across the cheek with the back of his hand. Farzin was lifted completely off his feet and dashed into the wall but Darius again moved with a speed that none of them had before seen. As Farzin struck the wall Darius was there. He grasped the smaller vampire by the throat and slammed him down upon the floor, raising dust from the hard surface, squeezing him firmly with one hand. Farzin was unable to speak. His cold, watery eyes bulged out as he fought for breath. Both of his hands scratched at his Clan Leader’s fist.
“Traitor,” Darius whispered into his face. Utter wrath fueled his strength now as the other vampires in the room withered and were immobilized through fear. None of them had ever seen their leader so enraged and it was a truly terrifying experience. Flavia took a tentative step forwards but Darius froze her with a hiss and a glare, then returned his rage to Farzin.
“Conspire against me and plot to bring me down, would you?”
Farzin choked and although he could not breathe he struggled to talk, to defend himself as he grasped hopelessly at Darius’s immovable grip.
“Speak.” Darius was so angry and so close that he practically spat into his face. He released his grip just enough to allow Farzin to gasp out a few words. His feet thrashed around in desperation, scrabbling uselessly against the floor.
Farzin spoke in bursts as he coughed and rasped. Each sentence came with great effort as he fought to speak. “I was not scheming against you, my lord. I would do nothing of the kind. I merely came across them and defended our rights to the humans having found them first, as Protocol demands. When I explained our position they asked to be brought before you in order to put their argument to you. There was no impropriety on my part at all, I swear to you my liege.”
Darius stared at him, his eyes still blazing and furious, not persuaded by his arguments at all. “I do not believe you. You are lying.”
“I swear I am not. Why would I do such a thing? What do I have to gain? I may not agree with you my lord but I would still follow your word. I am still a faithful servant in your clan.”
“Why then did you not tell me before of the location of the human base? How long have you known its whereabouts? I asked you all to go forth and find it for me. I warn you now, do not lie to me,” he thundered.
Farzin did not waver for a moment and there was no hesitation in his voice. “My lord, I only just came across it this very day. I would have told you about it sooner otherwise. However it was fortunate that I found it when I did as it was only shortly before they arrived. I was able to convince them of our entitlement to the humans. I do not believe they would so easily have given up that claim otherwise. But I give you my word; I had only just come upon the humans’ lair myself.”
Darius stared into his eyes, trying to read his sincerity. “Your word? I do not think that counts for very much these days. I warn you Farzin, do not consider me an incompetent, old fool. Your allegiance to me is not lightly cast aside. If you cross me again I will not hesitate in breaking you with my own hands.”
Darius released his grip upon him and Farzin rubbed his throat, trembling and still gasping for breath. Alec had shrunk back, cowering in the shadows and could not meet Darius’s gaze.
Darius glared one last time at Farzin. “I warn you, do not underestimate me or it will be the last thing you do.” He turned and stormed away and nobody went to follow.
Farzin lay still, wheezing for a few moments then got wearily to his feet. He too stalked from the room without looking at anybody, his eyes burning into the cold floor. Flavia and Alec exchanged a worried look and then slowly followed him.
When they reached him he was still rubbing his neck but now he was seething, absolutely incandescent. His face was contorted and glowing with wrath and froth sprayed forth as he spat out his words. “He will regret this outrage, make no mistake of it. It is he who has underestimated me and he shall pay for that error. The time has now come for both his ruin and the subjugation of this pitiful herd of humans. I will see to it that he will rue what has passed this evening. He has sealed his fate. He has incurred Vendetta.” The last words came out in a hiss and his eyes shone with the colour of hat
red and revenge and pure, uncontained evil.
CHAPTER 9
“Did they see you?”
Straddling shook his head uncertainly. “I don’t know, I don’t think so, but they were definitely making their way in this direction with a purpose.”
Millington had already braced himself against the door as Handley backed up to the window.
“You two - get the desk up against the door now and be quiet about it," Wood whispered to Handley and Mayoh . "Then move that corpse out of the way. Hopefully they won’t realise we’re here and just pass us by.”
As he spoke however there was a crash and a screech as something barrelled into the door and even Millington was knocked back a little. He braced himself again as the door rattled for a second time and then the crashes came faster. However many there were outside, they were all having a go now. The desk was rammed up hard against the woodwork and the soldiers held it firmly in place as the commotion continued. Wood stood back for a second, assessing the situation whilst pulling at his lower lip in consternation. The noise from outside was horrendous and certain to attract any other hostiles in the area if they did not do something about it very soon but they were all reluctant to open the door and face the danger. If they were forced to shoot the infected then that may also attract more unwanted attention.
Wood did not waste any time. “Look, we don't have an inexhaustible amount of ammo, and we've already used up a fair bit of it. I really don't want to use more than we absolutely have to. This is no place to run out. I've been in that kinda situation before and it's not fun. So here’s what I propose…” He quickly outlined his plan.
“Quickly then,” Millington was panting for breath and sweat dripped from his forehead. Another force slammed into the door and the desk slipped back a couple of inches. Millington stared into the eyes of a crazed man. His fetid breath for a moment competed with the unholy reek already present in the room. He roared in Millington’s face before they were able to heave the door shut once more.
“There are quite a few of them out there,” Millington puffed. The onslaught was continuous and the door was forced ajar with every bang. Wood reached into his rucksack and brought out two brandy bottles. Into the top of each he inserted a length of cloth that he had previously soaked in the spirit and handed one to Mayoh.
“Okay Millington, as soon as they’re lit?”
Millington took a deep breath, looked at Straddling and then nodded.
Wood held a lighter to the cloth wicks for barely a moment and they instantly caught alight. He signalled to Millington who quickly stood away and pulled the desk six inches back. Straddling leapt to open the door while Wood and Mayoh stepped forwards. They coordinated their throws perfectly and Wood’s bottle sailed cleanly out of the office. It shattered on the ceiling above the infected, exploding into a small ball of flames and sprayed them with fire. The bottle thrown by Mayoh would have followed suit had it not been for a man who was launching himself at the door at that moment. He was fat and wore a white shirt with a couple of pens still inserted in his pocket. The mottled, grey skin around his face hung around his jowls like a boar, and his greedy little nose had split around the nostrils revealing sore, weeping flesh. There was dried blood on his chest, around his mouth and on his chin like a demonic beard that added to the overall air of utter lunacy.
He hurled himself forwards and took the impact of the bottle full in the face. It smashed all over him as he burst partly into the room. The desk was engulfed in flames which licked around his head and upper torso like a diabolical halo. Millington shoved the desk forwards and Straddling tried to kick the door shut but the man’s torso was wedged half in the room, caught now between the desk, the door and the door frame.
From outside the office the thumps against the door were definitely lessened. There were still screams but the tone seemed to have changed, perhaps now less of rage and more of fear. However they were blocked out by the fury of the man inside the room who burned like a Roman candle. His arms wheeled in rage as he tried to reach out to his victims although his eyes were blistering. He thrust himself towards his attackers again and again getting more and more agitated. For a moment nobody inside the room moved. Millington held on to the desk with all his might as the man swiped at him, his fingers inches from Millington’s face, and Straddling tottered back on his heels in surprise and shock. The reek of burning flesh now overpowered any previous odour. A moment later and Wood leapt forwards, a five iron from the pile of golf clubs in his hands. With a swish he brought it down upon the man’s head with deadly force.
Only one swing was required. The skull split open like a watermelon as his body continued to smoulder. His hair disappeared in flames almost immediately giving off a terrible stench. His teeth were exposed as his swollen lips bubbled and cracked into an insane leer, and he crumpled forwards. His arms hung limply by his sides as his head thumped the desk.
A moment of relative calm descended on the room. A collective breath was drawn in and exhaled slowly, a ghastly breath filled with horrendous stench, a foul soup of death. Then those without resumed their thump, thump on the door although it felt to the soldiers as though the flames had perhaps lessened their determination. Perhaps.
Millington looked at Wood who still held the golf club. “Nice shot,” he panted.
“Are we all ready for this?” Wood pointed at the door. “Let’s do it.”
Millington again yanked the desk back and the dead man slipped to the side. As Straddling opened the door the burnt faces of the diseased crowded forwards, still very much alive but noticeably less aggressive. It seemed as though they were just going through the motions of attack now. Ultimately, all animals are indeed scared of fire. Wood again swung and struck the first in the face which made a thud, felling her instantly. The next tried to advance and trampled over the woman but the brief pause had given Millington time to push the desk forwards into the now gaping doorway, blocking their passage. Although the desk was made of relatively light materials, he had to shove hard against the weight of the floundering diseased. He gave a mighty bellow and strained. Handley and Mayoh leapt to his aid and slowly the desk filled the void. Wood leaned over it and clubbed down at the nearest of the attackers who was frenetically trying to clamber over it and get at them. It was a middle aged woman wearing a torn, flowery blouse that was half open revealing a yellow bra and a crucifix hanging on an overly thick golden chain. Wood struck her a glancing blow on the side of her head, which seemed to dent her skull and distort her features like a grotesque, papier-mâché puppet. With the second blow she sagged forwards, but still attempted to raise herself up until the third blow rained down. Already the next of them was trying to climb over her body.
Mayoh had picked up a golf club by this time and so Millington and Handley had to stand back from the desk while the two men swung at the attackers. Straddling stood at the rear, holding his rifle at his shoulder in case any of the diseased managed to get into the room. It was certainly not as effective as shooting them, and it was a lot more time-consuming, but made much less noise and more importantly conserved their ammunition for other more urgent occasions when they did not have the luxury of time. For the moment the desk was providing a barricade for the soldiers so they were at least temporarily out of harm’s reach – and the reach of the infected.
When there were three bodies sprawled over the desk it made it virtually impossible to strike the remaining diseased in the corridor who still tried to get at them. Wood regarded his small band. They all seemed fired up, not exactly enjoying the altercation but their blood was coursing with the adrenalin of survival.
“We’ve got to get out there and finish this thing. Millington, do the honours.”
Millington braced himself and then reached down for the desk. Straining hard he tipped off the bodies that were lying across it and picked it up, staggering forwards with the legs of the desk facing out into the corridor. The anger and cries from the diseased rose expectantly as their pr
ey once again became accessible but as they tried to attack they were forced back by Millington’s might and the weight of the desk. He was a big man but his training in mixed martial arts meant that he was very nimble. He was able to force the infected back a couple of paces before they had time to react and extricate themselves from the legs of the table that protruded forwards. There were only three of them left and the other three men wielding golf clubs wasted no time in dodging around Millington’s bulk, out into the corridor and cutting them down. Swinging forcefully it only took a matter of seconds before all three of the diseased lay twitching on the floor.
Straddling stood in the doorway watching carefully to ensure that none of them got close, a detached expression on his face as his finger covered his trigger. “Gentlemen, I think we’re done here,” he said after several seconds.
Handley was still striking at the woman without any sign of stopping. He made muted moans with every blow and it took Wood to place a hand on his shoulder before he relaxed and dropped the club with a clatter. He sank to his knees in exhaustion and emotion, a small dark pool from her body licking thirstily out towards him. He could not look at the woman and covered his face with his hands.
“You had to do it," Wood said reassuringly. "If you didn’t then she would have felt no remorse in killing you. You had to do it.”
“I know,” Handley sobbed, shaking and holding his head in his hands. “But they’re still human. I’ve taken the Hippocratic Oath. It’s still murder.” He had never before taken a life and doing it in such a brutal fashion was extremely hard to bear. Wood looked carefully into his eyes, trying to assess his mental state.
“It’s not murder,” Straddling said quietly. “This is war.” There was no emotion in his voice, just a factual exclamation. He did not look judgemental or pitying, just cold and detached. He spoke almost as though musing to himself about whether he had remembered to turn the kitchen light off. “In war the rules are all changed. It’s survival of the fittest. It’s kill or be killed.” Despite his obvious conviction his words did nothing to assuage Handley’s remorse, but it was good for once that Straddling and Wood were in agreement about something.
The Blood of the Infected (Book 2): Once Bitten, Twice Live Page 10