Birth of a Dark Nation

by Rashid Darden

  "I just wanted to help."

  "I know," Dante said. "It's just complicated with us."

  "Some things don't need to be." I picked myself up and dusted my knees off.

  "Orlando left you guys on purpose, didn't he?"

  Dante nodded.

  "We separated. It was time."

  "Well now it's time to get back together. I can't believe a human has to tell you that there is strength in numbers."

  The Dressing-Down

  Thanks to a contact I'd made in city hall, I was given a sneak peek at some legislation that could decrease the funding for HIV service organizations in DC. Not us, of course, because we didn't get any government funding anymore. Nor did we need it or want it. But in the event that other organizations lost funding, it would be an opportunity for Magdalene House.

  I was competitive, at least when I was already winning. If Magdalene could branch out into other areas of the city, it would mean big things for our clients. I wasn't above the acquisition of another nonprofit organization.

  While I was poring through the document, my Skype began to light up. I barely used the thing, so it caught me off guard.

  Oh, shit.

  It was Uncle John.

  I answered the Skype call and sat up straight in my chair.

  "Hello John! How are you?"

  "I'd like to explain something to you," he said calmly.

  "Yes, sir?"

  "You are not a Razadi."

  "I suppose you talked to-"

  "Do not interrupt me. You are not a Razadi. You do not do the work of a Razadi. You do the work of a human. Your job is to run Magdalene House. That's it. Do you understand me?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "What you did at the request of Victor Pearl was ill-advised and reckless. You have absolutely no idea what you're dealing with here. And Victor, of all people, should have known better than to send you into a vampire nest."

  "I'm sorry."

  "I know. And you'll be even sorrier if this situation blows up. Be careful, Justin. You just threw a stone at a beehive."

  "I-"

  John ended the call and the screen went black. My heart sank. I never wanted to disappoint him. Fuck.

  The End

  October weather in Washington was usually mild, so my long walk with Dante down Rhode Island Avenue barely even required a light jacket. I felt safe walking with him anywhere, whether it was the tourist-filled sidewalks of downtown, or the sketchy side streets of Pleasant Hill. As the sun set, I looked at my man and knew that he had my back.

  "You like these walks we be on?"

  "Yeah, I do. Gets me some good exercise every once in a while."

  "You look like you been losing weight."

  "You think so?" I smiled.

  "Yeah. I mean you looked fine the way you were."

  "But it's nice to be getting in shape."

  "Fuckin', walking, and drinking water. That's all you need."

  "You silly."

  "It's getting late," Dante said.

  "And it's pretty dark out here. Damn, did we really walk all the way to North Capitol Street from Woodridge?"

  "Sure did. You trying to walk down by Howard? Get something to eat?"

  "Nah, we should probably head back. If I eat, I'm not going to feel like walking all the way back. Damn, I haven't walked this far since I was a kid."

  Dante smiled.

  "You wouldn't have made it…"

  "Back in Africa?" I completed.

  "Yup. All we did was walk and run in the golden valley. But it was fun. Safe and peaceful."

  "You miss it."

  "Sometimes. But I know that's not home anymore. You feel me? Our destiny was to be here."

  "Don't you miss your family?" I asked.

  "I have my family here."

  "Yeah, but what about your mother? Sisters? Aunts?"

  "I had all that," he smiled. "Mama Abeo."

  "Abeo was your mother's name?"

  "Yeah. Leader among my people. Well respected."

  "Is she…still living?"

  Dante shrugged.

  "When we left, we left. That was it."

  "You mean you nev-"

  Suddenly, I was lifted from the ground and thrown across North Capitol Street, crashing through the gate at the nearby McMillan Sand Filtration Site. The wind was knocked out of me as I lay in the grass. Before I could get my bearings, I saw a dark-skinned black man towering over me with his inch-long fangs bared. He bent down and bit my neck.

  Before the world went black, I noticed two things: a bloody piece of my flesh dangling from the teeth of the vampire who had just attacked me, and the look of horror on Dante's face as he approached. That's how I knew that I wasn't going to survive.

  The Zealot

  "It's done," Malcolm said, as he glided back into the mansion on Rock Creek Park.

  "He's dead?" Nigel asked.

  "I don't know, I guess. Sure."

  "You've got some…" Cassandra pointed to her mouth, then Malcolm's mouth.

  "What? Oh." He went to the hallway mirror and investigated. He tried licking the corner of his mouth, but gave up and used a baby wipe from a hallway closet.

  "He tastes…different…" Malcolm said.

  "What do you mean you 'guess?'" Nigel demanded.

  "I mean, I tore his neck open and rolled out."

  "Was he dead when you left?" Cassandra asked.

  "Not yet. He's probably dead by now, though. Unless the daywalker got him to a hospital in time."

  "You were supposed to kill him!" Nigel said.

  "No. You said to send them a message. The message was delivered: Don't fuck with the Anubis Society."

  Nigel rolled his eyes and covered his face.

  "Darling, who else saw you?" Cassandra asked.

  "Just one daywalker. The one they call Dante. Walking around the reservoir by Howard in the middle of the night like they hadn't a care in the world. Looked like they were in love. Faggots."

  "Malcolm, it's the 21st Century," Cassandra said. "Certainly, you've seen two men in love a hundred times over by now?"

  "And it never gets less disgusting. I don't even drink men if I can help it. That's why I spit his ass out."

  Cassandra just shook her head.

  "Why didn't you kill him?" Nigel demanded.

  "Because I wanted the bastards to feel the pain, Nigel! They came into our home—while we slept—and planted listening devices! They know we have their kinsman. And they ain't getting him back. It's not about killing for the sake of revenge. They need to feel pain for what they've done. Long-lasting pain."

  "That isn't for you to decide, idiot. Didn't you listen to what I said about the prophecies? Justin Kena is dangerous to us. He needs to die. The daywalkers have been protecting him. This was our chance and you blew it. Fuck!"

  "You and these old, stupid prophecies…Nigel, nobody believes in that old shit anymore. Vampires have always been and always will be."

  Sasha and Andre Crawford shifted uncomfortably in the corner.

  "Darling, I think what Nigel is saying here…" Cassandra hesitated. "When the master of this house gives you a job to do, you better do it to completion. We are the Anubis Society—not some rag-tag bunch of Razadi rebels living in foxholes. We have an order to how we do things. And if the master of this house says to go teach a human a lesson, you'd better bring his head on a fucking platter, with a side of lungs."

  "Do it yourself, then. I'm not here for all these stories about ancient vampires that never existed and prophecies that will never come true. Fuck this, I'm going to go eat."

  Malcolm headed to the door. Nigel flew from his seat so fast one might have heard the crack of the sound barrier being broken. Fangs bared, and with both hands around Malcolm's neck, Nigel began to scream.

  "As long as you are a member of the Anubis Society, you will believe as we do: that God created vampire and left us to rule this realm under the gift of the night and the moonlight! That anything walking o
r crawling when the sun sets is our domain! On every single continent and in every fucking time zone!"

  Malcolm's fangs retracted as Nigel's chest heaved.

  "I might not have made you a vampire, but you can believe one goddamned thing: I can end you."

  Nigel let Malcolm fall to the floor.

  "We've got to assemble now and squash the Razadi once and for all. Andre, get the database. Sasha, draft a letter to every society, lodge, and club in the Western hemisphere."

  "Nigel," Cassandra said. "Let's talk."

  "About what? It's time…"

  "Malcolm. Sasha, Andre…may we have the room please?"

  "Yes, Miss," Sasha and Andre said in unison. Malcolm scrambled up and disappeared down the hall.

  "Come sit next to me, my love," Cassandra said, as she patted the cushion of the baroque sofa.

  "How long have we been together?" Cassandra asked.

  "Since that night during the French Revolution, of course."

  "So you know by now that after all these years, I would never steer you wrong."

  Nigel nodded.

  "We have Orlando. He belongs to us. We've got the best doctors that money can buy studying his blood on every level. I'm hearing they're on their way to a breakthrough. Darling, we might be on our way to unlocking the secret of Razadi blood."

  "That doesn't make Justin Kena any less dangerous to us."

  "Why are you focused on him? We have the upper hand. We've always had the upper hand. He's just a human. There's no way to know if he's really 'The Key' from the prophecies."

  "Babarinde thinks he is," Nigel admitted.

  "Babarinde is a fool. A superstitious fool."

  "He might be a fool, but he's one of the few people I respect in this life. He brokered peace between vampires and Razadi. For years. But if he's found The Key, then it's the end of us."

  Cassandra pursed her lips.

  "Nigel, I want you to focus on Orlando. Turn your attention to the science. Oversee the doctors. Let me worry about the Razadi."

  "You won't do anything."

  "I will, darling! We will observe them closely and see what their next moves will be. We'll find out how injured Justin Kena is and whether he will survive. And we'll see what happens next. Of course, I have my predictions. I think nothing will happen. They know they can't beat us."

  "You don't believe in the prophecies. You never have."

  "Be that as it may, I believe in you. Keep a clear head. And look at it this way: if we decipher the code in the Razadi blood, even if Justin is The Key, we could defeat them anyway. Imagine, darling…a nation of nightwalkers who can finally conquer the day. And it would all be because of you."

  Nigel grinned.

  "I'll give it a shot, my love," he said, caressing Cassandra's neck.

  He stood up and walked toward the grand foyer.

  "But know this: if you're wrong about this, and we've blown our chance to eliminate Justin? A nation of nightwalkers will know that you're to blame. Not me. Not Malcolm. Our blood will be on your hands."

  Nigel disappeared in a blur. Cassandra exhaled.

  "Sasha!" Her maidservant appeared in nanoseconds.

  "You and Andre. Track the Razadi. Tell me everything you see. But don't you dare tell Nigel first. You leave that to me. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, Miss."

  "Good… Sasha, tell me something."

  "Yes?"

  "Do you believe in the prophecies? In Nigel's fire and brimstone?"

  "Truthfully…I don't know, Miss Cassandra. It's just not what my maker taught me. I never thought about it too much."

  "Have you ever dreamed of walking in the daylight again?"

  "Yes, Miss. I do."

  "Then study the Razadi. There just might be hope for us, yet."

  Sasha smiled, ever so slightly, on the inside. For the first time since she'd been tethered to the Anubis Society, she saw a glimmer of humanity in Cassandra von Croy.

  Part Two:

  The Coming of Ominiyi

  In the Blood

  It had been decades since I was last taken by surprise.

  "Tastes spicy," the nightwalker hissed, as he spat out a piece of Justin's flesh.

  I looked down once again at Justin. The hole in his neck spurted insane amounts of blood on the ground. His eyes looked up at me, fixated in shock. His breathing was shallow and quick.

  Every ounce of my body welled up with fear and rage that exploded as I bared my fangs and charged the nightwalker.

  "Watch it now," he said, pointing at me and gazing into my eyes. I froze and hissed.

  "I'm going to leave now. The way I see it, you can chase me and try to kill me, or you can try to save your friend's life. Choice is yours."

  In a blur, the nightwalker was gone.

  "Fuck!" I screamed. He had hypnotized me. That didn't usually work between our kind, but if our guard was down, it could briefly overtake us. At least he used it to get away from me, rather than preventing me from helping Justin.

  I looked down. Justin was in shock. His chest barely heaved. Blood continued to flow from his neck. He was bleeding to death.

  We were three miles from the house. Shit.

  I took my shirt off and placed it against his open wound. I tried hard not to panic, but the fear was setting in.

  "Sweet Olódùmarè! Please let him live! Shango, give me strength!"

  Dozens of lightning bolts suddenly formed out of the black, cloudless night. Thunder ripped through the sky. Lightning struck the ground all around me in huge explosions.

  Runrunrunrunrunrunrunrun

  I picked Justin up and held him against my body.

  I ran. Ran off the site of the terrible attack, a huge pool of blood left behind.

  I ran through the neighborhoods off North Capitol Street, not caring who saw me, because I wouldn't stop until I got home.

  I ran all the way across Rhode Island Avenue with my man in my arms, running at speeds I had never run before.

  Shango was with me.

  Olódùmarè was with me.

  Justin would not die. Not tonight.

  The world around me became a blur, as though I were traveling through a memory of another time.

  I did not stop to catch my breath. I did not stop for anything.

  My man would live. God had ordained it long ago.

  I reached my house and kicked in the door.

  "Victor! Victor, I need you!" He appeared in seconds.

  "What the fuck happened?!" he shouted.

  "Hold my shirt on his neck! We gotta stop the bleeding. Here."

  I laid Justin's motionless body on the floor and ran downstairs to our basement. In a far corner was a stainless steel refrigerator. I broke the lock and flung the doors wide open, grabbing as many bags of blood as I could. I raced back upstairs.

  "What are you doing?" Victor asked. "You can't do that!"

  "I have to!" I threw the bags to the ground and then raced to a secret compartment in the kitchen. I opened it up and found our first-aid kit: needles, tubes, pumps—everything I'd need to save Justin. I raced back to the living room.

  "I can't let you do this, Dante," Victor said.

  "Listen, Victor, either keep the pressure on his neck or get the fuck out of the way!"

  Victor tried to grab the needle from my hand as I was preparing Justin's arm for the IV.

  "Give me that," he demanded.

  "No!" I shouted. My peripheral vision began to glow blood red.

  "It will never work," Victor said. "Just let him die peacefully." He grabbed at my tools once more.

  "I said no!" I bellowed. Without hesitation, I punched him in the face, sending him hurtling through the living room and crashing into the wooden banister leading up the stairs.

  He was knocked out cold.

  I placed the needle in Justin's arm and began to pump the blood into his body.

  "Come on," I said. "Just hold on, Justin. Keep fighting."

  While I pumped the new
blood in with one hand, I sliced my wrist open with a fang and let my blood poor into Justin's open neck wound, praying that it would heal him.

  "Please, God," I begged. "Let this work."

  My blood covered the open wound; at first, nothing happened. Then, I could tell the wound was slowly but surely repairing itself.

  "Yes. Yes. Good. Keep fighting, Justin."

  I could hear rustling from the stairs. Victor rose and began walking toward me.

  "Victor, I swear to Olódùmarè that I will kill you if you stop me from saving Justin."

  Victor bared his fangs and continued walked to me.

  "I swear it!" I yelled.

  He raised his wrist to his mouth and sliced an inch-long line. He knelt by Justin's head and put his wrist to his mouth. Victor glared at me, but he said nothing. I nodded.

  Justin's mouth opened and he licked his lips, taking in drops of Victor's blood. We sat in silence and in prayer.

  Ten minutes later, the wound on Justin's neck had healed and the bag of blood was empty.

  "Take him upstairs," Victor said, as he finally took his wrist away from Justin's mouth. "Start another IV. We'll have to do this all night. And don't forget to bind his eyes. And don't you dare tell him that I helped."

  "I know," I said. Victor disappeared. Justin was breathing deeply and his eyes were still closed. He was still bad off. But he was alive.

  I bent down and scooped him up with both of my arms, cradling him carefully.

  "We're not going to lose you," I whispered to him. "Not tonight. Not ever."

  The night was long, filled with fever and cold sweats, and Justin vomiting up the blood he was being fed to save him. And the transfusions didn't stop, either. He needed blood to replace that which he had lost in the attack; blood that would be stronger than what he'd had before. If he survived, he would be better than what he was before. He'd be stronger. He'd be faster. He would be one of us.

  But he had to survive the transformation.

  I picked up the phone and called Babarinde.

  "Baba…something terrible happened."

  "What is it?" he asked.

  "Justin and I were on a walk. The nightwalkers…they got him."