Empire of Blood (Book 2): Fading In Darkness

by Wilson, Robert S.

  Once Ishan’s body was inside and as comfortable as Simon could imagine he could make it, he sat watching as his friend continued his peaceful sleep. Simon couldn’t help but worry if Ishan would ever wake up. Even in all the years Simon had experienced of Ishan’s life, he had never known of a vampire draining a queen. Hell, he had never known of another queen existing. And yet their Queen did not seem at all surprised. She seemed to expect what was coming. And where was she now? Simon hadn’t seen her since she dragged him into the darkness away from the battle. He longed to be near her now. To feel her strength. He needed it more than he needed Ishan to wake up. He felt guilty for feeling that way but that was just how addictive her power had become over him. It was effortless to admit it to himself. It was no wonder Ishan had been in such despair that night at the city’s edge. Simon had since experienced through Ishan’s memories exactly what had happened. Simon couldn’t imagine how much it would destroy him if the Queen were to make such terrible threats toward him. He knew he would rather die.

  * * *

  Imperial soldiers and vampires were littering the streets ahead as Dustin and Jonathan hid with about a dozen other Foederati soldiers behind the cover of an overturned minivan. The soldier in command, Lieutenant Dalton, was peeking around the front end of the van before turning to the rest of them.

  “As soon as those fuckers are past Bourbon Street we’re gonna each toss over a grenade at the same time. Now, that won’t do nothing against those bloodsuckers, but have your stake-gun ready so as soon as you’ve tossed your grenade you can get a good shot in at those flying fuckers, all right?” The men nodded each making eye contact with each other. No more than ten minutes passed and the Imperial soldiers made their way past Bourbon Street and Dustin and his fellow Foederati soldiers threw over their grenades.

  A much larger series of explosions than Dustin had expected took place and nearly blew the minivan over on the men taking cover behind it. Dustin scooped up his stake-gun quickly and pointed it at the sky. At first it was hard to see them in the rain. But a moment later, several of the vampires swooped down toward the van to make an attack and Dustin pulled the trigger of his stake-gun, managing to bring down one of them. Before long he was surrounded by men shooting stakes into the air. Some of them struck their targets and some of them couldn’t have been farther from, but all in all they managed to dispatch the enemy well enough.

  Dustin dropped his stake gun to hang from the strap at his side and brought up his AK-47 and followed Jonathan, Dalton and the other men as they quietly ran out into the open, being careful to keep low, in order to search for any undispatched enemies in the area. When each soldier signaled the all clear, the men grouped together at the center just in case they had missed someone.

  * * *

  Hank only made a couple of good spots of blood against the blacktop with Jack’s head before the bastard got out from under him and sent him skidding into the pavement himself face first. His cheekbone was broken, but the stinging pressure only helped him to focus as he rose up and wiped the blood from his mouth. The wind and rainfall was picking up again and as Hank turned around to face Jack, he could see only fast blurry raindrops and darkness. Starting in the direction Jack had just been, Hank called out into the darkness.

  “If you’re so big and bad killing little fucking babies then why do you have to hide from me, huh? What the fuck are you so afraid of? You’re a fucking vampire for Christ sakes and I’m only a man.” He stood there listening to the echoes of his voice and the thudding drops of rain.

  “All right, mate. Let’s do this right out in the open.”

  Hank turned around only to be face first with a fist coming at his face. It knocked him sideways, but again it only added to his sense of resolve. He came back swinging. Left, right, left, two rights, a left; each one followed by a weak failed attempt to block and Jack’s face bloodying more and more. Then he went for the gut and Jack grabbed him by the hair and sent his knee into Hank’s chest, knocking the air out of him again. Jack dropped him to the ground to gasp for breath again.

  “Always those fucking lungs, eh? Wouldn’t it be nice if you didn’t have to keep sodding breathing?”

  Then all the universe converged into one single painful point at Hank’s face. He fell backwards spying Jack’s leg as it came back down from the kick. And still he couldn’t breathe. Jack pounced on him then, punching him in the gut over and over. Hank bent forward still trying to breathe and Jack whispered into his ear.

  “You know most ah my kind woulda just went for your blood already. But no, me, I like watching you suffer. And besides.” He stood up and spoke loudly with his arms reached out to both sides in an almost shrugging gesture. “I’m already quite full if I do say so myself.”

  Something seemed to snap in Hank’s lungs then. It caused him to finally gasp in air and scream out in pain mixed with fury. Jack was just watching him and smiling all the same. Enjoying the show. Hank lunged forward and pressed the palm of his hand against Jack’s face turning it sideways and then sank his teeth into the side of the bastard’s neck and started to suck inward wanting nothing more than to drain and devour every ounce of this sick terrible creature.

  Something changed in Jack’s stature. He began to struggle letting his legs drop out below him and punching with both fists into Hank’s back, but Hank simply fell with the vampire, his teeth still latched into place the muscles of his mouth stretching as he sucked the blood out like a siphon.

  Jack screamed a whimpery sort of screech, pulling at Hank’s hair and clawing at his neck. And still Hank held on. He wondered how many children had been torn away from the world by this monster. He wondered how many more years his son would have lived if it hadn’t been for this vile thing in his mouth. It was the most disgusting and yet decedent taste to drink the blood of such a horrendous creature, man, whatever it was that Jack Draper was. It was like he had said; he was not like the others. Hank had met enough vampires to tell, too.

  Jack’s body began to lighten and his flesh began to harden and still Hank took in every bit of blood that would trickle out. Until finally he realized he was just sucking dry skin. He let the body fall backwards with a hollow kind of crackle even as the rain dripped and splashed all around him. The vampire’s eyes were wide with terror, his face was thin as the skull beneath the flesh and his body looked like a nearly dry clay statue posed to hide its face from a coming blast. As the rainwater pooled in small patches of Jack’s clothes, Hank’s vision began to blur. Everything around him seemed to be dissolving. And before he could stop it, he felt himself being sucked down into another time and place, this new world engulfing him and choking him like a body of water. And at the moment he realized what was happening, he panicked, mentally clawing at any way to get out, but it was already over. He was already drowning in a sea of terrible unfamiliar memories.

  Chapter 42

  Dreams of the Dead

  The first few years Hank experienced life through Jack Draper’s eyes were quiet. They went by almost like a movie on fast forward. A few moments stopped here and there. The sounds of a young woman laughing from another room. But all too often little Jack spent his time in a dark quiet place by himself.

  At least ever since Mummy found the rabbit.

  She had screamed at him quite a bit then. It was unlike any other time. Jack was scared, but… but at least she was talking to him. Unlike the nights that would go by, men coming in and out… often buckling their trousers as they went to leave. He reckoned she spent far more time with men she’d just met than she ever had with him. Except for that one triumphant day. She was holding the rabbit by its ears as far away from her body as she could, its eyes plucked out and its jaw ripped away. He wondered if she would have made such a fuss about it if she had found it outside and not under his pillow.

  He liked to touch it under there when he couldn’t sleep at night. Pet the fur, feel the flesh. He’d rather enjoyed eating its eyeballs too, but Mummy still didn’t know a
bout that.

  As young Jack sat cross-legged thinking about the rabbit, the moaning started again from the other room. But this time Jack didn’t let it get him down. He was going to wait until they both fell asleep and then he would do something to make Mummy really notice him this time.

  Hours went by and more and more moaning but eventually it heightened for a moment like it always did and then died down into odd whimpers until the place became once again silent. Jack got up from his seat on the floor and went wandering into the kitchen. When he got as far as the cupboards and no one came out to stop him he reached up and pulled open the large drawer that Mummy kept all the big kitchen knives in.

  He pulled out a long serrated blade and smiled at his innocent blue eyes reflected in it. It would be like when Mummy carved the turkey. He giggled. He liked turkey. And he liked to watch the movements of Mummy’s arm as she carved a big bulky bird into smaller pieces. Still in his long night shirt and socks, Jack crept through the long dark living room toward Mummy’s bedroom. Jack had never had a daddy. He was starting to formulate an idea on why that might be as of late. But right now he wasn’t concerned with daddies. He only wanted Mummy to get mad and scream at him again, to really perk up and take notice of him.

  He slipped into the room and took slow cautious steps toward the bed, each footstep waiting between long snoring breaths coming from the bed before putting down the next. Mummy’s soft pink naked skin was draped over an incredibly hairy grey man, whose face was as wrinkled as a prune. Jack stifled a laugh at the thought of the squeezing the old man’s face and purple juice squirting out. He was sure what would really come out would be much more like the thick red goo that came out of the rabbit. He didn’t quite know how he knew this, only that he did.

  When he was right up against the far side of the bed where the man’s prune-like face lay pointed in his direction and snoring softly, Jack gently placed the serrated edge of the knife over the man’s neck as quietly and softly as he could so as not to wake the two of them. If he woke the man he’d lose his chance, and if he woke Mummy, she’d surely stop him before he could do the deed.

  Quick to keep him from squirming like that silly rabbit had, Jack began to move his arm like Mummy, carving the turkey. Prune face’s eyes flew open and a bellow of sound escaped and then gurgled as the man’s muscles tensed and Jack carved back and forth faster and faster. The man’s body convulsed and one of his legs kicked Mummy and she rolled over, still quite asleep. Jack covered ol’ pruney’s mouth and smiled as the man’s terrified eyes grew bigger and bigger like colorful saucers until they stopped moving altogether and the shaking of his muscles abruptly quit.

  With a gust of hyper glee, Jack picked up the bloody knife and hopped and skipped his way through the room without a care in the world swinging the knife forward and backward like a pendulum with his arm and splattering blood all over Mummy’s bedroom floor and wall and door. Mummy woke with a start and rose up to see what was going on and after a few moments of staring at the blood splatters on the wall and the door, she finally turned to her right and found the source of the crimson splashes.

  Mummy screamed the loudest and longest scream Jack had ever heard. And he smiled with pride as he watched her frantically grab the prune man by his shoulders and scream again. And when she turned around she wasn’t so angry anymore. The moonlight reflection off the serrated blade lit a small spot of blue on Mummy’s bare chest as she shrank back against the bed and screamed again. It was then that little Jack realized Mummy wasn’t cross with him. Mummy was terrified. That hadn’t been what Jack had wanted. At least when Mummy was mad at him he knew it was like the scriptures said. Mummy was angry because she loved him. She’d even told him so. But now. Now she wouldn’t stop screaming and if she loved him, she was showing it by pushing herself as far away as she could get.

  Two decades breezed by and Jack was a young man in his twenties, living on his own in a small village. At least once every few weeks, he brought unwary victims to his cottage. Using his coy intelligence to conjure up all sorts of reasons, he would lure strangers and travelers in and then murder them in cold blood. Slowly over the years his victims became younger and younger, until he was tricking little boys and girls with candy to come in for more. And Hank quickly learned that long before Jack had a need for blood he discovered a particular taste for it. Not just in metaphor but in physical flavor and texture he enjoyed to lap the thick syrupy liquid against the graininess of his tongue.

  And unlike Jack the Ripper who would come much later, he didn’t leave any evidence, not a single sign of his terrible deeds. Most of it he would ingest and the rest he would bury or throw in a nearby river.

  And then one night a stranger found him. And it wasn’t human.

  When the fiery venom spread throughout Jack’s veins, he awoke with a physical hunger for blood that nearly matched the desire he’d already long had for it. And when he tasted his first drop of young blood through the senses of the vampire, his desire became a compulsion.

  Children disappeared often in the village after that.

  And then centuries went by and king after king after king, Queen Elizabeth came. And still the centuries went on. Hank experienced enough murder to void an entire nation and with each murder he could only watch and listen and feel and hear and do nothing to stop it. It was a madness that eventually brought a numbness with it and Hank learned to simply not feel what his human body knew he should feel as he watched them die one after another.

  Until the day the vision finally came true.

  The smell of sulfur was nearly choking as Jack rounded the corner of a tall brick building that looked to be barely holding itself together. Screams, gunfire, and explosions sounded from nearly every direction. Except one. In that direction there was only the sound of a quickly beating heart.

  Toby.

  The boy had been running from his father. Jack had been waiting patiently for the right moment to come along. Then for no reason at all, Hank turned and ran, leaving the boy alone. Jack grinned and then slipped out of the dark alley he’d been hiding in. Up the rubble-littered street, he caught the boy's scent. Jack ran toward that sweet smell. Longing for it. Wanting it like he'd never wanted anything ever before.

  The scent grew stronger as Jack came near an open alleyway—one of the few free of debris. A blue dumpster stood on the right, one of its black hatch-like lids wide open and leaning against the red-brick wall behind it. The boy was in there. It was too obvious. The trash and filth inside weren't strong enough to cover up that glorious aroma.

  Jack walked up to the dumpster, leaned his body against the cold thick metal of it and reached inside. His hand came up pulling Toby's shirt by the collar, the boy screaming and scratching at Jack’s stone-hard fingers. But they just kept on pulling him upward until that sweet pulsing flesh of the boy's smooth neck was at Jack’s mouth. His fangs nearly pushed through his lips at the urging to be used. He opened his mouth and then slowly closed it over the boy’s carotid artery feeling the blood pump up from the heart and out onto his tongue. He lapped it slowly, patiently. There would be so much more of it. And all the while deep inside as the blood and life poured out of Toby’s body and into Jack’s, Hank was a frozen tiger waiting to escape.

  Waiting to tear this monster apart again.

  The last moment of Toby’s life, the very last breath faded away and Hank screamed in frozen silence with every ounce of his being, but no one, nowhere, alive or dead could hear.

  Like the blood that had been drained from his son, the anger faded away and was replaced with a hollow bitter emptiness. And Hank went back to that dark place of hiding deep within the memories of Jack Draper.

  And just as Hank was preparing himself for the coming battle—to experience the end of Jack Draper, something happened that Hank hadn’t expected—hadn’t thought of.

  They started briefly—subtle—flashes of memories of sunlight and grass and colors and times that Hank immediately recognized. Toby’s
little voice from so long ago—when he was only a toddler—croaked out of his little mouth and the scraps of life that were left of Hank wept and curled into love and joy and hate and despair all wrapped together. The boy was running in the playground, hanging from monkey bars and swinging on the swings and laughing and lighting up the eyes of everyone everywhere he went.

  Flashes of Hank and Diana and Toby together and very much alive from the smallest alien perspective filled Hank with the closest thing to joy he would ever feel again. Because no matter how wonderful it was to see and hear and feel his son in this strange way, to live bits and pieces of his life, it was all just memories torn and ripped away. As these brief highlights of Toby’s life came and went each one more rapidly than the next, Hank watched and heard and felt them all, no longer trapped at all. But burnt, broken, and yet somehow free.

  The time came for that last memory to end and Hank forced himself not to go back to that dark numb place. Toby’s last breath blew into the air and the dim yellow light of the alleyway started drain, his last moment of sight fading in darkness.

  Chapter 43

  The Sweet Sleep of Oblivion

  The Queen was still not accounted for as the remaining vampires flooded into the hive. There was only an hour left before the dawn would come. Jackie had appeared from out of nowhere and embraced Simon. He blushed as he hugged her in return. As much as he didn’t want to lead her to believe that anything could come from it he was glad to see her alive and in fair shape.

  “Are you okay?” Jackie asked.

  “I’ll be fine. But something’s happened and I need to speak with the Queen. We need her now more than ever and I don’t know where she is.”