Blood City: Book Two Of The Monster Keeper Series
Page 17
“Was. Now? Not supposed to be. Don’t know. She’s been
gone for over a month this time.”
“Listen, I’m sorry, maybe if I—”
“Told you to stop that talk JR. Naomi isn’t your daughter. The
fault is mine.”
“I could still talk to her,” Terry said.
“Not sure anyone could say anything to her.”
“I’d be willing to try. Couldn’t hurt. Got a number you can
give me?”
“Have her on my family plan. Hold on a second, and I’ll send
it to you.”
Ping.
Terry’s phone chirped at him and he looked at the screen.
“Got it. Thanks.”
“Take care of yourself JR. Don’t be so long in checking in
again. You know you can call this number from wherever your
side gig takes you. Doesn’t necessarily have to be in the same
town.”
He could feel the smile in her voice and loving warmth of her
words. “Copy that Martha,” he replied softly. “If I talk with
Naomi, I’ll let you know.”
“Thank you.” And she hung up.
He looked at the number of his niece on the screen. His thumb
hovered over it. Now was as good a time as any. He willed
his thumb to move down and touch the screen making the call,
imagining that he could feel the micro-electric connection zap
the skin as his finger touched the screen making the call. He
held the phone to his ear.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
“Bitch. Can’t answer but leave a message.”
Terry hung up immediately not knowing what to say, stood
up from the cold concrete wall and promised himself he would
try again later. He turned back to look at the city. It was beautiful
even if it was no longer his home.
Where the hell under all that are you hiding Vlad? He wondered.
NAOMI SQUEEZED OUT of the crowded club and into the reassuring cool night air. When she had entered, dusk was just beginning to fade. The transition from day to night was a relief from the sun—even the light filtered by the overcast that blanketed the valley the past several days. Outside the rollicking venue, she was able to light a cigarette and assess the targets she had identified for him. There were so many to choose from. A myriad of possibilities. It was like a chocolate sampler. One might be cream-filled, another caramel, or nut, possibly nougat. The trick was to stay away from picking the cherryfilled one. Those were never welcome, at least as far as Vlad was concerned. The different varieties would be judged by the master and selected for a second life in his family or become a food source for him and the others. The cherry-filled ones were almost always a disaster. They were of no value to anyone. They would talk your ear off about nothing; informing you about the sale of cat food that was going on at Freddy’s, or how the bus had to take a detour from its usual route due to the Blazer’s game, and then go into painful detail about the potholes it hit along the way. Even humans wanted to kill these.
Sometimes, however, a vampire would choose not to turn or drain a human. There were thousands of people who were aimlessly looking for a place to belong, in search of doing something with a purpose. When combined with a natural susceptibility to being mentally manipulated, this type of human was the perfect candidate for becoming a “familiar” to the vampire. A familiar learned to understand the needs of the immortal whom she or he served. The close bond with a familiar was maintained by a vamp occasionally feeding off it and sharing its own blood in pitying amounts; creating a yearning desire to please its master.
A familiar was rarely, if ever turned, at least not right away— the offer of immortality was dangled out as a ploy to secure loyalty. The true value of a familiar remaining human was that it could roam the earth during the daylight hours doing the vampire’s bidding. The familiar’s strong bond with its immortal master made it susceptible—though to a much lesser degree— to some things that really could hurt or kill a vampire: daylight, garlic, holy water, and crucifixes. There were, however, familiars who had lost their immortal patron. These unfortunates lived in constant search of a new master to serve. Many walked the streets talking to, and yelling at, imaginary, invisible masters; teetering on the edge of sanity, lives unfulfilled, never finding another.
Naomi Terry had been on the search for something more in her life. She wasn’t a stupid person, but it seemed that everything she tried ended up in disaster. She had no intention of going to college after graduating from Jefferson High, which was fine because her dismally low GPA would have kept her from following a path to higher ed. At first, she moped around the house until her father and mother forced her to get a job. At least she could contribute something to the family. She tried waiting tables. Gave the barista thing a shot. Even signed up for a class at Portland Community College hoping that would inspire her to continue on, and actually get a degree.
Nothing seemed to take hold. Honestly, she didn’t really want to try much of anything. Hanging out with her friends and smoking ganja was a whole lot easier. After a few good hits, she didn’t care about anything, especially not the white people who gave her and her posse the dirty looks as they sat on the playground equipment. When she did need some cash, there was always the strip clubs for her to perform in. If she got high enough before going out onto the stage, the experience would fade into a blur, and the old guy’s drool disappeared as she grabbed the dollar bills from their disgusting paws.
Standing on the street corner now the sun had receded to a comfortable level, she gathered her thoughts for her report to Vlad. Taking a drag from her cigarette, she casually eyeballed one target that might be ripe for the picking tonight. Naomi felt her phone vibrate. Checking it, she found she had missed several calls all from a number she didn’t recognize. But it looked like one voicemail had been left. Out of curiosity, she touched the screen to listen to it.
“Naomi. Hi. This is Uncle Jack.” Naomi dropped the phone to her side in surprise. Then she held it back up and looked at the screen again. The message had played out, so she hit the play button again.
“Naomi. Hi. This is Uncle Jack. I’m in town for a few days and would love it if I could buy you lunch or coffee or something. I . . . uh . . . your mother gave me this number and told me you might need a bit of help. Well, anyway, you have my number now. Call me. ‘Kay? Love you girl.”
Well, of all the . . .? How long had it been since she had any contact with him? He came for daddy’s funeral. Where have you been since, Mr. Army Man? She turned the phone off and placed it into her coat pocket, shaking her head. Screw you Uncle Jack!
««« ‡ »»» THE BACKGROUND SOUND of a slow drip was all that anyone could hear aside from the heavy breathing coming from the two standing before Vladimir. Up until this very moment, they believed they were going to some hip Portland party in the old Shanghai tunnels nonetheless. Upon entering the chamber though, the realization this was no party set in quickly. Their inability to turn and flee, due to the mental grip Vladimir had placed on them, was enough to tell them all was not going to be fun this evening. And as if that wasn’t enough, Stephanie was standing directly behind them almost salivating from the anticipation of the kill. A genuinely unsettling sight even through the jaded eyes of Naomi.
These two were the ones Naomi had personally selected for her master from the club. The female was barely twenty-one. New in town. One of those creative wannabes. Came to Portland because it’s weird. Sounded good to her. She had a minor inheritance and thought she could feel her way around for a bit, under no pressure to find a job. Just biding her time and maybe land something with one of the many ad agencies or tech startups. Maybe she could score a gig at Nike or Adidas. Naomi knew instantly that this woman could make an excellent addition to Vladimir’s slowly growing family, should that be his choice.
That was what he liked—two options. Not a vampire herself, Naomi could mix with the general population outside during the day without harm, though she did find direct sunlight to be irritating usually resulting in a kind of heat rash. She adored Vladimir and would do his bidding for as long as he desired. Perhaps one day he would extend the hand of immortality to her. She looked forward to the once-a-week connection that brought the promise of infinite life as he gently pricked her neck with his sharp fangs. Never sinking them in too far. Not really piercing the jugular vein. He would take from her enough that she felt bonded to him and knew that this ritual secured their mental connection, but he never went all the way with her. Never biting into her throat to the extent that she would turn or die.
The master directed the hipster take the remaining steps towards his perch. Naomi looked away knowing what was about to transpire. She rarely watched Vladimir feed. It seemed so tawdry to watch as he performed such a personal yet necessary function. For some reason, however, she didn’t have the same problem watching when he turned humans to make them his. It was a profoundly intimate act, but one that didn’t lead to death. It was something far more beautiful and profound announcing the start of a new life, an immortal one.
When she again focused her attention on the master he was about to start in on the girl. The slumped husk of the hipster lay discarded in the corner of the dark chamber. Stocking cap long since tossed aside. Just as she suspected, the dead white dude had a man-bun. Others were now taking their turn licking and slurping up his remains. There was always something left for his family. Vladimir was a good master in that respect.
Naomi watched the girl’s eyes open wide at the initial insertion of his sharp fangs. The surprise sensation, not dissimilar to a virgin’s, when a man entered her for the first time. A gasp of pleasurable pain and then submission. But Vladimir was acting strangely tonight. The girl, whom she thought would be a perfect addition to his family, had not been released as he usually did to those he would turn. Instead, he continued to feed on her and then offered this innocent to his second, Stephanie, who proceeded to finish her off with a degree of ferocity that Naomi had not witnessed before.
She looked away. Naomi had witnessed the aftermath of much more savage sessions. Intellectually she knew that a vampire’s need to feed was similar to all creature’s base desire to stay alive. But what Stephanie was doing was more than feeding, and she could no longer watch. Naomi fished her phone from her back pocket, the one that her mother had given her and the one that her uncle had called her on earlier. She was tempted to replay his message but instead opened the photo album and started scrolling.
She looked at the family pictures her mother had pre-loaded, hoping her daughter might find some visual connection to her family through the images of a happier time. Trying to pull at heartstrings Naomi had severed long ago. She knew looking at them would cast doubt on her own choices. In spite of her declarations, she cherished those earlier days, which was why she hadn’t deleted them. Now they provided a much needed distraction from Stephanie’s overzealous feasting.
Stephanie always took take great pleasure in not just drinking a victim’s blood but seemed to relish tearing the neck open. In some cases, decapitating the victim. Since Naomi had become a familiar to Vladimir, Stephanie had become increasingly brutal with all the food brought before her. Partially, Naomi was turned off by this vicious act of destruction, mostly she was grossed-out knowing she would have to clean up after the horrendous proceedings. It was, after all, her duty as a familiar; taking on the dirty work that all interns everywhere must do to prove worthiness.
Photos from the past quickly flew across the screen as Naomi brushed her finger across it, cycling through the images in a blur of motion. She was looking for a more innocent moment from an earlier life. A flash of pink made her stop and tap the screen for a larger view. There she stood, grinning in her pink ruffled birthday dress, white bobby socks, and shiny black shoes. Her grin for the camera revealed a missing tooth. The sparkly pointed party hat canted to the side of her head had the number seven in red on it. Despite the disgusting sounds coming from Stephanie as she inhaled the last of the girl, Naomi grinned at the memory. That wasn’t the last time she had seen her Uncle Jack, but it was one she remembered fondly. He sure was handsome in his uniform. She swiped the screen for another picture.
Vladimir had been perching on the rotten old armchair. He watched Stephanie devour the last of the girl with a touch of regal pride as a father might have for a daughter achieving a new developmental milestone. Then he noticed Naomi. “What are you so intently looking at my dear?”
“Oh, nothing,” she said, as she attempted to shut the phone down but couldn’t.
“Please continue. I am curious to look at these pictures. Families are so important don’t you think?”
Vladimir had reached into her mind. He was seeing through her eyes the pictorial history of her real family. Her hand was guided to swipe across the screen revealing one image after the other. Again the picture of the little girl that was no longer her standing in the pink skirt appeared. Her hand stopped. The little grinning girl remained smiling on the screen.
Vladimir stood and casually walked to Naomi. He reached down and grabbed the phone from her hand. “Who is this standing next to you?”
The release of her brain was sudden. She stood and looked at the phone. “That’s my dad and mom.”
“Ah yes, I see the resemblance. A handsome man. A happy looking couple,” he said as he swiped to another picture. “And this one? The one in the uniform.”
“That’s my Uncle Jack.”
“Your uncle?” And something suddenly struck him, a memory from the past. “You say he’s your uncle? Jackie Robinson Terry? Known as JR?”
“Yes.”
Vladimir took the phone back to his throne and sat looking at the picture. He spoke directly to the image, “Well, my friend. I haven’t seen you in many years . . ..” He let his voice trail off in thought then looked up to Naomi.
“Did you say that he was in town and wants to see you?”
“I didn’t say.” But she felt Vladimir poking around in her mind again and could hear the phone conversation with Uncle Jack being replayed as though it was occurring at this very moment.
Vladimir released her again, and she staggered from the disconnect. “Um, why are you interested?” she asked with hesitation.
“Let me just say that he and I have had some shared history together.” Vladimir looked thoughtful then spoke like he had come to a decision, “Stephanie, my darling. I believe that it is time for Naomi to join our collective.”
Stephanie let go of the crumpled shell of the girl. The dead body folded upon itself as it slid to the floor. A trace of blood caught at the corner of Stephanie’s mouth, poised to trace down her chin. She seductively let her tongue emerge from her mouth; brushing it slowly over her lower lip, catching the lingering red droplet before it made its final escape. It was the one God-given talent she excelled at—both as a human and as an immortal. Stephanie loved the art of seduction and turning a human into a vampire was a very alluring act.
Vladimir rose from his throne and approached his familiar.
Naomi began to feel odd. Her head swam, awash with some form of intoxicant. It felt as though she was floating in the comfortable, warm water of a sensory deprivation tank or a baby in utero.
The room became a blur of images, sensations, sounds, feelings—every
thing merging together. Naomi’s pulse quickened. She could feel the blood pumping through her system, her heart working overtime, circulating up into her brain and down through her legs and feet, and up again through her heart and back into her brain.
She could feel the presence of Stephanie behind, just barely touching her shoulders. And then suddenly clutching them in a firm grasp. Naomi could feel Vladimir reaching into her. He spoke. In her mind, she could hear his calming voice settling any anxieties helping her to focus. “Listen to me. No harm will come to you. You already promised yourself to me. I want you now.”
Stephanie’s grasp became less intense as she reached around and cupped her hands upon Naomi’s breasts. The sensation that Naomi felt bordered on wild sexual desire, but that was too simple, too vulgar. Naomi was aroused by the long-awaited promise of Vladimir entering her. In anticipation she rolled her head to the left, exposing the length of her neck for him to bite into, inviting him to penetrate her pulsing artery.
The air changed as Vladimir moved closer to her. His proximity made the pounding of her heart all the more conspicuous; feeling as though it would burst from her chest at the next beat. She felt his hand under her chin as he gently pushed it further to the side to expose the expanse of her smooth, chocolate brown skin.
Again, his voice echoed through her head. “You are mine and will always be so.”
Naomi felt the usual stabbing sensation in her throat then gasped as Vladimir sunk his fangs deeper into her neck than he had ever done before. He began to suck, taking in her life’s vital fluid. Suddenly, he stopped, and Stephanie took a turn. Naomi lost all muscle control, but the vampires were both cradling her, holding her in an embrace of welcome, helping deliver her into an immortal life.
When Stephanie had finished, the two vampires stepped away from their newborn. Vladimir lifted his left wrist up and made a cut with one of the sharp, claw-like nails on his right hand. Blood erupted from the slice and Naomi could smell the coppery sweet liquid. She had an overwhelming urge to taste it, a desire that was fulfilled by Vladimir, who stepped to her and held his bleeding wrist out to her as an offering. “Yes, this is for you. Do not hesitate. Drink my daughter.” She heard Vladimir’s words ring through her head and grabbed his arm and clamped her mouth around the wound and drank deeply.