by J. Thorn
“Don’t compare us to those cunts,” Saw said, stepping forward with her fist reared.
Alex grabbed Saw’s arm.
“Whoa,” Dax said. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Alex said. “Forgive Saw. She’s a little bit of a feisty one.”
“I see that.” Dax held his hands up and waited for Saw to sit back down. “So what do ‘Casket Girls’ do? Y’all like the Girl Scouts?”
“Hardly,” said Alex. “We’re students of the occult. We study all the weird, esoteric, black magic kind of shit that most people don’t want to admit exists. That, and we train our members in self-defense and weapons.”
“So you know a lot about vampires then?”
“More than anyone else in New Orleans,” Zoe said. “Well, almost anyone.”
“Papa Midnight?”
“He saw this coming for a long time,” Alex said.
“He was a good man,” Dax said.
“How did he die?” Alex asked, her voice lower now.
“A Screamer named Serafino killed him.”
The three girls looked at each other.
“Did you know him?” Dax asked, recognizing the look.
“He’s Ambrose’s second-in-command,” Zoe said.
“Was,” Dax said. “I destroyed him. And who is Ambrose? Is he the real vampire leader?”
Alex nodded. “He’s the Master vampire of the North American faction.”
“How come I never saw him when I was down there? I thought Serafino was the Master, but realized that he wasn’t after I killed him.”
“Serafino was doing Ambrose’s bidding,” Zoe said.
“If you’d seen Ambrose, I doubt you’d be sitting here in front of us right now,” Saw added.
Possibly, Dax thought. The three girls had no idea who he was, though—or at least who Papa Midnight had claimed he was.
“How did you all know Papa Midnight?” Dax asked, shifting the subject back to the voodoo priest.
“We ran in the same circles,” Alex said. “New Orleans isn’t that big of a town, and our interests cater to more of a niche crowd than you’d think. Yeah, vampires are a big deal in the Quarter, but most of the ‘believers’ are phony tour guides trying to make a buck. The people who know for real—that’s a small group.”
“We tried to keep the Casket Girls under the radar,” Zoe said. “But then rumblings started on the internet about this group of ‘hot goth chicks’ who trained for a vampire apocalypse. Totally annoying media attention for the wrong reason.”
“But Papa Midnight had faith in us,” Alex said. “He believed in what we were doing and knew we weren’t just some prissy girls trying to get internet famous. He began to teach us what he knew, and we shared our knowledge with him. We helped each other out, and became friends.”
Dax scratched his head. “It’s weird that he never mentioned you. If you guys were so close, I don’t know why he didn’t want to try and find you. To make sure you all were okay.”
“Because we don’t need to be fucking babysat,” Saw said. “That’s why.”
Alex smiled and broke in before Dax could respond. “What she means is that he knew we could handle ourselves.”
“No shit,” Dax said, rubbing his tender ribs.
“He had his own congregation to deal with, and we had each other,” Alex said. She shook her head. “It’s sad that Papa didn’t make it.”
“He was a good man,” Dax reiterated. “Didn’t deserve to go the way he did.”
“I’m not sure he’d have had it any other way,” Zoe said.
“Yeah, trust me, he’d rather have had a vampire kill him than drown or die from cancer or some bullshit,” Saw added.
Dax smiled and let out a short laugh.
Alex held her chin as she stood in deep thought. “It’s starting to make sense now that Serafino is dead.”
“Why do you say that?” Dax asked.
“You talking about the new guy?” Zoe asked Alex.
The redhead nodded.
“What new guy?” Dax asked. “And how are you getting this information?”
“I’ve got some friends still hiding in New Orleans. Friends I can talk to in my dreams. We’ve heard that Ambrose has a new second-in-command,” Alex said. “What’s strange about it is that he’s a newer vampire.”
“Masters usually put their trust in older vampires,” Zoe added. “Vampires that are decades, sometimes centuries, old.”
“But from what we understand, this new leader was turned after the lights went out,” Alex said. “We’ve even heard that he might be here in Mississippi somewhere.”
Dax swallowed. He could feel the blood rushing to his face. If a dead voodoo priest could talk to him in his dreams, he had to believe that the girls had the ability to communicate telepathically with others.
“Do you know what he looks like?”
“Supposedly, he’s a young brother with a short afro or some shit,” Saw said.
“Really?” Zoe asked, rolling her eyes at her unfiltered companion. “Why you gotta be all racist about it?”
“You know what the fuck I mean,” Saw said.
“Stop it, you two,” Alex said. She turned her attention back to Dax. “It’s really strange for a Master to put so much trust in a young vampire. I even heard his name. It was… well, now I can’t remember.”
“Isaac.”
At first, Dax didn’t even realize he’d said the name out loud. The description the girls had given had been vague—thousands of black guys with short afros lived in New Orleans. But he knew it had to be him.
Alex wrinkled her nose. “How did you know? Do you know him?”
“Yeah,” Dax said, gritting his teeth. “I know him.”
22
Classical music sounded throughout the dining hall despite the lack of a centralized electrical grid system. A polished round table sat as the centerpiece of the expansive room. The oak table could seat up to twelve people. Goblets sat in front of four of the chairs, and Ambrose’s guards directed each of the other three Masters to their places.
As Ambrose sat down, he studied the faces of the others.
Jing didn’t take his eyes off of Ambrose. The leader of the Asian faction didn’t trust Ambrose, and, why would he? Even though Ambrose hadn’t killed Jing’s lieutenant with his own hands, her final death had been carried out by Ambrose’s closest advisor on his command. Jing would be the most difficult of the three to convince.
On the other hand, Jaraca would be easily swayed by his powers. He had already confronted her with her weaknesses, and though at first she had responded with aggression, she’d then backed down easily enough. And Jaraca ruled the least populated of the four factions—she simply did not have the number of soldiers that Ambrose, Jing, and Bronwyn had. As far as Ambrose was concerned, she was already on his side.
His eyes shifted to Bronwyn. He found it difficult not to be fooled by her youthful charm and stunning beauty. Although physically she appeared to be the youngest of the four Masters, she had been turned long before any of them. She was not only wise, but cunning—a frightening combination. She would play games and try to seduce him, Ambrose knew, but he would keep focused on his plan. Even though Jing wanted to rip his heart out, Ambrose probably trusted the Asian leader more than the sly European Master.
Ambrose remained standing as the others sat. He smiled then, hiding his anxiety like an actor on stage.
“Thank you all again for coming. I am confident that this will go down as a historic day. A day of unity and domination.”
None of the Masters replied. Jing remained angry, Jaraca stoic, and Bronwyn grinning.
Ambrose raised the goblet to his lips and took a sip of a vintage red wine that the humans would have deemed valuable, based on how long it had sat in the bottle. The food and drink were more ceremonial than sustaining. Millions of humans on this continent alone would keep him satisfied for years to come. He set the goblet down, putting his palms flat on the tab
le.
“Now that we’re all here, I want to reiterate what I was saying upstairs. We can’t afford to underestimate the power this human possesses. We don’t know what he was taught, but we do know the voodoo priest had begun training the man in the ways of resistance. I truly feel that it is in our best interest to band together to destroy him.”
Bronwyn waved her hands around the room. “Look at us and the power we harness. I still don’t understand why you believe that a single human can destroy even one Master. So why come together?”
“I’m with her,” Jing said. “Why do I need to join forces with scum like you?”
“It’s that exact attitude that will be your downfall,” Ambrose said. “The human is more powerful than the ancient texts prophesized.”
“How do you know that?” Jing asked.
“Because I saw what he did to Serafino. He defeated an old, experienced vampire like he was but a human himself. And remember, this is the same vampire who killed Seyana.”
Jing pounded his fists on the table and stood. “Don’t you dare speak of her that way.”
Ambrose waved a hand at Jing. “Sit down. I’m not trying to insult you or Seyana. I am merely saying that you know how powerful your top lieutenant was, and this human was able to deliver the final death to the one who destroyed her.”
Jing sat back down, but kept his hands balled into fists.
“It still doesn’t explain why we need to stand together against him,” Bronwyn said. “No lieutenant or right hand of ours possesses the powers we do as Masters. The human won’t stand a chance against our weapons.” She grinned as she took a sip from the goblet, and said, “Especially not mine.”
Ambrose looked at Jaraca, who had said little since the two of them had last spoken in his chamber. He still wasn’t sure where she stood.
“What do you think?” Ambrose asked the South American.
Jaraca drew the goblet to her lips and took a sip as all eyes fell to her. She set the wine down, taking the napkin and wiping the corners of her mouth. She looked at the other Masters before settling her gaze on Ambrose.
“I think you are correct. We can work together to ensure that the human is exterminated, and then we can take the world as one.”
Bronwyn laughed. “Of course, you think that because you’re not powerful enough to claim it yourself.”
In a flash, Jaraca reached over and grabbed Bronwyn by the collar of her leather jacket. She pulled the European Master to within an inch of her face.
“I’m sick of your mouth. Perhaps we should settle this right here, and I’ll show you how weak I am?”
Bronwyn smiled, her eyes going back and forth between Jaraca’s eyes and lips. “Be careful what you wish for. Maybe I’d rather just show you the other things I can do with my mouth.”
Jaraca pushed a laughing Bronwyn away and straightened up in her seat. “This is never going to work,” she said to Ambrose. “These two are far too arrogant.”
“But you know that you love it,” Bronwyn said.
“I am arrogant,” Jing said. “But I just don’t know how I’m supposed to trust any of you. Especially him.”
“Our distrust and hatred for each other will never truly die,” Ambrose said. “I’m not saying that it will. But I am asking why we would waste all of our energy trying to destroy each other.”
“What’s to stop you from using the human to destroy the three of us?” Jing asked.
“That’s why we have to bring him back here and serve him his death sentence; kill the human and let his blood flow at our feet.”
“Why do you truly want to do this, Ambrose?” Bronwyn asked.
“Because I’m tired. This war we’ve waged for centuries—it’s pointless. The world is a big place with plenty of prey for all of us. This is the Final Awakening, my friends. The age of humanity is over. And as soon as we can destroy the only human that can harm us, the planet is ours for eternity.”
“And how would territory be divided?” Jaraca asked.
“It already is, for the most part. We would need to negotiate rights to a few territories outside of our existing factions, but the key is forming an agreement and devising a plan. And that’s why we’re here.”
The door at the end of the room opened, and four vampires entered. Each held a serving dish in their hand.
“Ah, perfect timing,” Ambrose said.
The vampires set the dishes down, one in front of each of the Masters. On each plate sat an array of human flesh, garnered with sweet potatoes, rice, and even Gulf shrimp.
“Now, over this fine meal, can we agree to unite and bring an end to war?” Ambrose asked, looking at each of the Masters.
The vampires looked at each other and then down at their plates as they considered the proposal.
“Yes,” Jaraca said.
Bronwyn looked at the South American, grinning, and then winked at Ambrose. “Okay. I’m in. Why not?”
Everyone turned to Jing. He had been staring at the table with his hands balled into fists. When he finally looked up, he wore the same angry expression he had when he’d entered the room.
“You and I still have to discuss compensation for the death of my lieutenant. And I swear, if you double-cross me, I will serve you the most painful final death any Master has ever experienced.”
The corners of Ambrose’s mouth turned up. “I can take that as a yes?”
Jing sighed, and he nodded.
Ambrose stood, a full smile now on his face. “At last, then. Shall I make a toast before we tear into this glorious meal?”
The other three Masters stood, raising their goblets into the air.
“To the Final Awakening, and the end of the human threat. Forever,” Ambrose said.
They clanked their goblets together, all smiling now—even Jing.
“Now,” Ambrose said. “Let’s feast.”
23
The sun penetrated the gaps in the boarded over windows and awoke Dax. He rubbed his eyes as he rolled over. He’d fallen asleep on the floor with his back facing the front door of the church.
Flipping over to gaze out over the pews, he saw the Casket Girls sitting in the front row, staring at him. He looked over his shoulder and then back to them, confirming that the girls had, in fact, been watching him sleep.
“About time,” Saw said.
Alex smiled. “Good morning, Dax.”
His eyes still blurry with sleep, Dax noticed packed bags at their feet.
“How long y’all been up?” he asked.
“Long enough to pack up,” Zoe said.
“We’re coming with you,” Alex said.
“You can’t,” Dax said. “It’s too dangerous.”
“Which is exactly why the fuck we’re coming,” Saw said.
“You can’t go alone,” Alex said. “You need our help.”
“Papa Midnight believed in you,” Zoe said. “We heard that he saw something special in you. So, we do, as well. And we want to help finish what he couldn’t.”
Dax thought about all the people who had been hurt or killed simply by being associated with him. He couldn’t knowingly bring these girls into that danger.
“Look, I appreciate the offer. But I don’t want to get you involved. I’m sorry.”
As he sat up and swung his legs over the front of the riser, Alex stood up and approached him.
“Whether or not you like it, we are already involved. Do you think it’s a coincidence that you ended up here?”
“Hell no,” Saw said.
“Exactly,” Alex said. “If you’re so important that Papa gave up his life so you could live, then we can’t let you march down the road by yourself.”
Dax sighed. “But I’m telling you—”
“It’s not up for discussion,” Alex interrupted. “Get up, and come on.”
It was the first time he’d heard the even-keeled Alex be so demanding. And he figured it would be a waste of time to argue with her.
Dax tossed his th
ings into his bag and threw it over his shoulder. The three girls picked up their own backpacks and put them on.
“You know I’m on a motorcycle,” Dax said. “Not quite sure how that’s going to work.”
“It’s not going to be a problem,” Alex said as she opened the front door.
A single-cab pickup sat outside the church. It had rolled off the assembly line in the 70s or 80s, with a faded baby blue paint job now pockmarked with rust spots. His motorcycle sat next to it.
“Where did you get that?” Dax asked. “I didn’t see it when I came in last night.”
“We kept it hidden in the trees,” Zoe said, pointing to the woods running back behind the church.
“We have a little bit of gas,” Alex said. “Went ahead and filled up your bike this morning. I figured that would be more comfortable than squeezing into the cab with us.”
Alex smiled, and Dax couldn’t figure out if the girl was flirting with him or not. But it didn’t matter. Aside from her being nearly half his age, romance was the last thing on his mind right now.
“I appreciate that.”
The girls tossed their bags in the bed and Saw jumped back there with them while Alex went to the passenger seat and Zoe got behind the wheel.
Saw reached into another bag that was already in the back of the truck and lifted a crossbow. She nocked a solid wooden bolt into the weapon, her bicep flexing as she pulled the string back.
“You know how to use that thing?” Dax asked.
“You’d better hope you don’t have to find out.”
Dax laughed and then mounted his motorcycle. He cranked the bike, revved the engine, circled around, and pulled in front of the truck.
“We’ll follow you,” Alex said.
Dax nodded and gassed the bike. The tail end spun out, shooting dirt and rocks at the church.
He hit the highway then, leaving the church shrouded in dust and exhaust.
With nothing but the open road ahead—sans the abandoned vehicles he was forced to maneuver around—Dax was thankful he’d made the decision to ride alone instead of cramming into the cab of the old pickup with the girls. Riding the bike had given him a certain peace he hadn’t had in a long time. He was able to free his mind and enjoy the beautiful surroundings while he still could. The Mississippi countryside hadn’t been ravaged the way New Orleans had. It reminded him of the world before the Blackout and the Screamers.