The van accelerated as they continued along the side of the building, nearing the wheeled gate in the fence. Two guards, both clad in tactical armor and carrying fully automatic rifles, attended the gate.
As they approached, Anoura saw a hulking form leaning against the slaughterhouse wall. She recognized the menacing figure immediately, watching as he moved away from the building’s shadow to reveal himself.
The man’s name was Horus, and he was head of security at the plant. All the guards therein were his responsibility, whether human or vampire. He was hard to miss, given both the lack of hair on his head and his considerable physical stature, measuring over seven feet tall and possessing a heavily muscled physique. Horus looked somehow haggard and gaunt despite his size, a cadaverous thirst in his eyes. He wore a black suit of plated ballistic armor, made massive to accommodate his frame, his intimidating presence enhanced by the gigantic meat cleaver he carried. He held a glass bottle halfway filled with blood in his left hand, not at all concerned by how it might look to his human personnel.
Horus smiled at Anoura as they pulled up, his bright white teeth and fangs contrasting with his dark armor.
Anoura took her eyes away from Horus for the moment, returning her attention to the guards at the gate. She grimaced, irritated by how they ignored her. The guard had approached the driver's side window as opposed to her own.
Apparently the personnel around here have a real problem recognizing authority, she thought to herself. She might have to make an example out of someone before the night was up, as there was such an obvious need for some reiteration regarding human-vampire relations.
“What business do you have at the hangar?” the guard asked the driver, stopping outside the door.
“We just need to make a drop-off,” the driver replied.
“OK, do you have an ID pass?” demanded the guard.
“Yes, I…”
“My pass should be sufficient for entry.” Anoura interrupted him, frowning at the guard as she leaned over the driver. She extended her hand to show him the pass.
“That’ll work.” The guard stooped down to look at the pass, satisfied. “We’ll open the gate up for yuh, just a second.” The guard stood back up to his full height and made toward his post, raising his arm in the air, signaling the other guard to open the gate.
Anoura exited the van as soon as the man turned his back, leaving the passenger side door wide open. She ran impossibly fast to catch him. She intersected the guard just as he returned his arm to his side, violently grabbing him by the collar.
“I don’t know what the deal is with these asinine passes, but things are about to change!” Anoura lifted the man into the air with both hands, holding him there as she screamed in his face. “Tell everyone that the next guard who asks to see my pass will be picking his face off the floor after I tear it off!”
Anoura placed the guard back on the ground with what she considered an unnecessary amount of restraint. She wanted to throw him against the fence and then beat him to death but believed it was poor form, so she decided against it.
The guard looked at her with pure terror, as though a change of pants was in order.
“I’ll make sure everyone is informed, ma’am,” he squealed.
“Great,” said Anoura, “Now, get back to your post!”
“Yes, ma’am!” The guard ran back toward the gate, nearly tripping as he went.
The other guard at the gate stood stared at Anoura in fearful awe as she reprimanded his comrade, too terrified to move.
“Get that gate open!” Anoura roared.
The guard jumped at her order, hastily opening the gate to its full extent.
Anoura turned and strode back to the van, climbing into her seat to slam the door shut.
“Well, that was something.” The driver was genuinely impressed. “You really gave him a back chewing.”
Anoura felt the need to reprimand him as well but stopped when she heard tapping at the van’s passenger side window. She turned to look out the window and nearly jumped from her seat.
Horus had moved from where he stood earlier to squat down beside the van. His massive bulk, predatory smile, and cold, dead eyes greeted Anoura through the window. He tapped once more, his knuckles leaving bloody streaks on the window.
Regaining her composure, Anoura hastily rolled down the window, having no intention to make him wait any longer.
“Hello, Anoura. Is there a problem?” He dropped his blood-filled bottle, the glass shattering upon the hard asphalt, causing Anoura to flinch yet again.
“Actually, there is,” she answered, managing to conceal her initial fright. “Your human personnel are incompetent. We’re just here to make a drop-off at the hangar. We have been hassled by clearance checks every time we need to cross a barrier. They are incapable of recognizing their vampire superiors. My people and I pass through here nearly every day. They should know who we are by now!”
“Whatever you say.” Horus stood back up to his full height. “Unfortunately, I can’t change protocol, but I will talk with my human personnel. It never hurts to remind them who they ought to be afraid of.”
He gritted his teeth and nodded toward the driver, his fangs fearsomely displayed, causing the man’s eyes to widen as he beheld the enormous vampire guardsman. Finished with their conversation, Horus turned to walk away, going around the back of the van before heading back toward the plant.
Anoura instinctively rolled up her window as soon as he stepped away.
The van’s headlights glared through the open gate, the two guards awaiting their passage through. The one on the right, whom Anoura had threatened, was trembling, retaining more than a minor state of fear. If only he knew what she really wanted to do to him.
Anoura turned her gaze back onto the driver to find him staring off to the side. He didn’t notice the open gate, still watching Horus make his way back to the plant. Anoura’s patience with the driver was nearly gone.
“What are you doing?” she demanded. “Drive!”
“Oh, OK.” He absent-mindedly put the van back in gear. “That guy was huge!” the driver exclaimed as he pulled through the gate. “That blade makes him look like a freakin’ psycho. About as creepy lookin’ as it gets. Don’t care to see him again if I can help it.”
Anoura decided to let him have a pass on Horus, though if he asked many more questions she would kill him there in the van.
“Yes, Horus is horrifying,” she replied. “Exactly what we want in a head of security.”
“If you wanted big and scary, you definitely got it.” The driver chuckled.
They were halfway between the gate and the hangar now, and the van quickly crossed the rest of the expanse. Anoura saw the hangar door was open, the glowing lights inside illuminating the area behind the plant. She wasn’t in charge of the hangar, but she found the wide-open door quite aggravating. It meant that someone awaited their arrival, but it looked sloppy.
As the van neared the hangar, Anoura noticed that the single plane setting outside had its boarding bridge down, and someone sat on the steps near the bottom. As they drew ever closer, she saw it was a man in an expensive-looking blue suit, smoking a cigar as he sat. He was Black, but something was wrong with his skin. A splotchy bleach-white rash covered his flesh, making it difficult for the typical onlooker to determine his exact race.
Anoura recognized him as Desmond, a man she truly hated. She despised his pompous, egotistical attitude and his air of superiority. She was certain all vampire-kind felt superior to their human peons, but Desmond’s insecure sense of pride extended far beyond that. He was the facility supervisor, in charge of both the plant and many of their kidnapping schemes. He was ultimately responsible for all the human abductions and butchering in the area.
“Pull right up to the plane outside the hangar,” Anoura barked at the driver.
“Done,” he replied, proceeding to slap the thin, metal wall behind him once again. “Hey, we’re parking at
the hangar right now! Be prepared to exit the vehicle as soon as we stop,” the driver yelled, dead-set on making no new friends.
Anoura grinned sheepishly, knowing both Luther and Mara wanted the driver dead as much as she did. She had made up her mind. He would be their problem for only a few moments more.
“I want you to remain in the vehicle while we make this transaction,” Anoura told the driver. “As soon as we are done here, I will take you to receive your compensation,” she lied.
“Sure thing.”
The driver pulled the van up as close as possible, facing the side of the plane, horizontal with the hangar door.
Anoura opened her door and exited the vehicle as soon as they came to a stop. Luther and Mara followed her, leaving the van from the back. Each of them cradled a child in their arms, both of their charges given more sedative, remaining asleep for easy transport.
Desmond rose from the boarding bridge, climbing down the stairs to greet them, waving his cigar around in this hand as smoke drifted everywhere. He stepped off the bridge with a bit of a jump and walked toward Anoura and her comrades.
“Why hello, Anoura, Luther, and Mara,” Desmond said in an annoyingly cordial tone. “It seems you have successfully completed your assignment. Everything went quite well, I presume.”
“We’ve brought the requested specimens,” Anoura told him, trying to appear oblivious to his narcissistic presence.
She frowned as she scrutinized his skin. She assumed his attitude stemmed from his appearance as a kind of defense mechanism. Desmond’s strange, inconsistent skin tone was a genetically linked quirk that sometimes occurred when someone turned. In the case of most individuals, the turning process typically lightened the skin considerably. In other rare instances, skin tone didn’t change at all or even became darker. Splotchy skin was rarest of all, seen as a defect among vampire-kind.
“This is splendid,” said Desmond. “Luther, Mara, if you would be so kind as to load these fine specimens onto this lovely private plane, we’ll have them off to The Surgeon as soon as possible.”
“As you wish,” said Luther, Mara nodding toward him in agreement. They walked in front of Anoura and around Desmond, carrying their burdens toward the plane. They climbed up the boarding bridge, Mara proceeding Luther, both disappearing through the plane doorway.
“May I ask what he intends to do with these particular specimens?” asked Anoura.
“That will not be a problem, my dear,” said Desmond. “I assume you know that since these are essentially a gift for the renowned Surgeon that they will be used in experimentation, though I am uncertain as to what kind. Even one of my status is only told what he needs to know.”
“They don’t tell me much either. I usually assume that when they ask for a specimen pickup, it’s either for experimentation or just a specific sustenance request.”
“No, I’m certain these specimens are for The Surgeon’s experiments. It seems the children are afflicted with a sort of blood disease he is interested in.”
“That makes sense.”
“I presumed there would be more of you. What has become of young Icarus?”
“We lost him somewhere along the way. He refused to return with us.”
“That is unfortunate. You do know who his father is. He will be most distraught when he receives the news.”
“Yes, I’m fully aware of who he is.” Anoura felt she might slap Desmond for his pretentiousness, but she refrained.
“I’m also certain both The Surgeon and The Master will not be pleased should anything have happened to him.”
“I’m sure they won’t be, but what was I supposed to do, Desmond? He’s notorious for never listening to his superiors, and we’re all tired of babysitting him. He barely listened to anything I told him, and on top of that, he attacked when he was specifically told not to. It was only a matter of time before he accidentally turned someone.”
“That is difficult,” said Desmond, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. “You are aware someone will have to take the blame for whatever might have befallen poor Icarus.”
“I suppose so,” Anoura sighed, “but we’ve had so many problems with him in the past that they’re surely going to have to see it my way.” She grew impatient with their conversation. “Listen, Desmond. It’s been a long trip, and I need to feed. Can I take care of it before we leave?”
“Yes, that is quite understandable, my dear, but the plane is supplied with the finest blood available, along with whatever else you might desire.”
“As good as that sounds, I have decided to draw sustenance from one individual in particular.” She put her thumb up in the air, signaling toward the driver at her back.
“Oh, I see.” Desmond raised a single eyebrow. “I presume you do not care for him?”
“That would be correct. I guarantee I will make it quick.”
“Very well then, I suppose we can wait for a little while longer before we take off.”
Anoura left Desmond standing there and approached the driver’s side door, signaling the driver to roll down the window.
“Get out and follow me to receive your payment,” Anoura said with a hint of malice.
“Whatever you say,” replied the driver, paying no attention to Anoura’s tone and predatory movements. Though the man was a miscreant, he remained naïve as a sheep.
Anoura dove for his throat as soon as the door slammed shut, sinking her teeth deep into his carotid.
Chapter V
Fate of Lab Rats
“Cyrus, wake up,” said a delicate female voice through the void.
Cyrus moaned, his sudden state of consciousness met by intense lethargy and a sharp pain shooting through his skull. He felt overdosed. The second dose of the drug had hit him much harder than the first. He could only lie there with his eyes closed, unwilling to appear awake. His senses now returning, he grew aware of the numbness and pressure around his elbows, thighs, and abdomen accompanied by slight pressure on his back. Metal cuffs restrained his body up against a flat surface.
“Cyrus, are you awake?” inquired the voice, a soft hand reaching out to touch Cyrus’s face.
A cold chill ran down his spine, the hairs on his neck standing on end.
Cyrus jerked away from her touch, realizing it belonged to the woman from before. He knew he should want to yell out, but he refrained from even trying. The drug’s sickening influence overrode any resolve to protest. Even if he wanted to, he could not. His ability to vocalize remained impaired.
“It’s all right, Cyrus,” the woman coaxed. “Open your eyes.”
Cyrus frowned, his head still throbbing. Though he was instinctively against it, he complied with her suggestion.
He moaned louder this time, his eyes immediately assaulted by a relentlessly bright light.
“Give your eyes a moment to adjust.” The woman’s tone was sickeningly sweet, almost as though she intended to blind him.
Cyrus frowned again, irritated by his inability to respond. He lay there motionless for several moments, the sound of buzzing, humming, and beeping machines suddenly drifting into his ears. The noises were soft, nearly undetectable at first, but quickly reached their true intensity.
Cyrus opened his eyes once more, surprised to find himself upright, strapped to a padded medical examination table, the cushioned metal restraints fastened around his arms, legs, and middle. He fought through his discomfort as he stared out into the white void, the bright lights steadily giving way to color. Cyrus regained a limited amount of focus, as he could only see so much without his glasses. He scanned the room, the ability to turn his neck having returned to him as well. The medical monitors sat to his right. Their beeps and hums gave them away, and their bright green screens easily cut through the intense white.
“Good morning.” The woman appeared as a grey-clad blur as she walked in front of the examination table, stopping to face him directly.
Cyrus squinted to see her, the teeth of her bright smile visibl
e first as the harsh light died away and the rest of her face came into view.
“Hello, Cyrus.” She continued to grin at him. “I’m Elysia.”
Cyrus’s eyes suddenly widened, his fears forgotten for a moment.
Elysia was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her skin was honey-brown, her dark hair thick and luscious, her eyes like glistening pools of gold. Her tight-fitting tracksuit revealed a shapely but athletic figure. She wore the same fragrance from before, the scent alluring yet so strong that it irritated his sinuses.
Cyrus grimaced, suddenly self-conscious given his predicament. He looked down to find himself wearing nothing but a loose-fitting hospital gown, a slight breeze drifting over his skin.
“This is my brother, Viddur.” Elysia nodded toward the man leaning against the wall at her far left, his arms casually folded across his chest.
“Sup!” said Viddur, greeting Cyrus with a bob of his head, an aura of cool confidence about him. He was Elysia’s male equivalent, his well-muscled and athletic build offsetting a boyish face. Though he didn’t smile, there was a mirthful look in his eyes.
Cyrus opened his mouth to reply, forgetting about his disabled speech.
“We’re just going to take a quick look at your vitals before you meet the doctor,” said Elysia. She took a clipboard from the table behind her and stepped off toward the surrounding monitors.
Cyrus’s pulse suddenly spiked at the word ‘doctor,’ and his numbing dread returned.
No longer distracted by Elysia’s presence, Cyrus’s gaze landed on an elongated mirror hanging on the wall in front of him. He jumped a little when he saw his reflection, startled by his own pitiful, diseased body. His nearly translucent skin and skeletal form made him appear fragile and sickly, as though death’s touch was upon him. Even his formerly thick, blonde hair had begun to thin due to the effects of his medications. He looked into his own eyes, his deep blue irises full of gloom, suppressed fear, and stress.
Fall Prey: The Hunt Page 7