Blood Reign

by Harvey W. McCarthy

  The lift attendant smiled at her. "Good evening, ma'am. How may I be of assistance?" the thin, well-dressed man asked.

  She smiled sweetly. "Will you take me to the lower levels? I have to check on my cargo."

  The attendant was puzzled. "Of course, ma'am, but I am sure that it is secure."

  She placed her hand on his chest. She rubbed him gently and looked deeply into his eyes. "I just need to be certain," she said.

  The lift attendant smiled and reached into his pocket. He removed a hundred British pound note. "Please after you, Mademoiselle," he said as he acknowledged her French accent.

  "Merci," she said sweetly.

  The lift attendant closed the inner and outer folding frame gates. Like the rest of the ship, the elevators were magnificent. Mikhaeli admired the construction and the décor. Again, she was still disappointed with the colors. Brass and mahogany were indeed beautiful, but some purple on the ship wouldn't have hurt. The attendant checked her out several times. She smiled and looked straight ahead. She had to resist the urge to feed. She needed to have an empty stomach.

  The elevator stopped at D deck. The attendant opened the gates. He stepped out of the elevator and motioned for Mikhaeli to exit.

  "Unfortunately, Mademoiselle, this lift cannot go any further. If you give me a moment, I will find you an escort to the forward cargo area," he said.

  She giggled. "Oh thank you, but I can find my way. I just need to know where the cargo deck is located," she said.

  "Well a pretty girl like you should…"

  She became angry, but she hid it well. "I can handle myself, but I am sure that you have security down here," she retorted.

  He bowed slightly. "Forgive me, Mademoiselle. If you take either door, it will lead you into a hallway. If you head away from the stairwells, you will head towards the bow. Instead you will want to take one of the stairwells which will take you to the lower levels. When you reach G deck, you will be able to find access to the cargo area. I must insist on a gu…"

  "I will find my own way," she said sternly, "Or do I need to remind you of your little present?"

  He bowed again. "Forgive me again, Mademoiselle. Shall I wait?"

  "No, I will take the stairs. I believe that they know their place."

  The attendant frowned and nodded. He entered the elevator and closed the gates. Within moments, the elevator motors pulled the lift back up into the upper levels of the ship. Mikhaeli watched it go. It took all of her restraint not to request to have the lift return. When it returned, she would rip out his throat and then dump his body. Instead, she walked through the port door and down the stairs which lead to the third class levels of the ship.

  She exited the stairs on F deck. It was her true destination. She wanted to visit the third class dining saloon. She needed to find some friends and she expected that her potential friends would be dining at this hour. She had discovered the third class dining saloon when she had met Harry at the racquet ball courts. She still thought the game was a bore, but she was hungry at the time. She hadn't fed for almost two days and her body was becoming weak. She stepped through the hallways into the large dining area.

  Like the first class dining room, the third class dining area extended the entire width of the ship. Hundreds of people could be fed during one sitting. Unlike the lavish first class dining halls, the room was very plain and lacked the first class extravagance. Virtually every man in the room turned his head. She was not dressed in her finest clothes but her attire told them that she appeared to be lost. She looked around and bit her lip. She glanced to her left and then to her right and then she sighed. She hung her head and buried her face in her hands. Seconds later, six broad shouldered men appeared at her side.

  "What is it?" a tall, muscular Irishman asked.

  "I…I…I…I am lost," she stammered. Her voice had a distinctly Irish accent. Her blue eyes welled. A single tear streaked her cheek.

  "Ah lass," the large man cooed, "No need to worry. We know this ship from stem to stern. Where do ya need to be?"

  She smiled and wiped her eyes. "Thank you," she said softly. "I was asked by my father to retrieve something from the baggage area, but I got lost."

  "Aye lass, we know where that is. Don't we, lads?" he asked.

  The five other men, who had not taken their eyes off of Mikhaeli, nodded.

  "Do you mean that you all want to take me?" she hinted as she gave a knowing smile.

  All six men quickly looked at each other. Their eyes grew wide as Mikhaeli bit her lower lip. She smiled mischievously. All nearby eyes fell on the exchange. She curled and uncurled a finger. All six men huddled around her.

  "The trip down here has left me all sweaty. I think that I need a shower. Can you show me the shower room?" she whispered.

  "Which one of us?" another shorter man asked with a squeak to his Irish accent.

  She giggled. "I can't decide. I might need all of you."

  All six men stood and glared at each other. One man shrugged and extended his arm. "Ma'am, if you permit us…er…I mean me," he said as he tried valiantly not to stumble over his words.

  She giggled again and hooked arms.

  "I could use a shower too," another man said.

  The second man slapped him on the back of the head. He looked at his friend for an answer. A man, behind Mikhaeli, made a circling motion with one finger, indicating all of them, and then pointed at her. He made a rude gesture with his hands and his friend, who was a little slower in comprehending what she meant, staggered. Mikhaeli smiled as she knew exactly what was going on behind her.

  She let the men escort her to the shower rooms. When they arrived, the five other men dashed into the showers and began to undress. They hooted and hollered as they ran naked into the bathing areas. Mikhaeli smiled and looked up at her taller escort.

  "I like a man who takes his time. Take me into the drying room and you can be first," she said as she licked her lips.

  He didn't say a word and led her into an adjacent room. It was empty. He shut the door and smiled. Mikhaeli closed her eyes and puckered her lips. The man grabbed her roughly by the shoulders. She squeaked. He closed his eyes and leaned forward to kiss her. He was rough and it turned her on but business was business. She bared her fangs and hissed. Her teeth slipped into his flesh and the man tried to scream. She bit deeply and viciously. His air escaped him. His life pumped into her mouth. She drained him to the point of near death. He slumped to the floor.

  She slipped back out the door into the hallway. She licked his blood from her lips. She entered the shower area. The two of the five men had finished bathing and remained undressed. They glanced around until they spied her. She pointed at one of them and, with her finger, beckoned him to come forward. He smiled as his friend frowned.

  "Don't frown darling," she cooed. "I want you to join us in a minute in the drying room. Tell your friends to come in five minutes later."

  She took the second man by the hand. He tried to cover himself but she pulled him quickly into the hallway and then into the drying room. He saw his friend and turned to her. Before he could say another word, she had also drained him to point of near death. A minute later, the third man had joined them. The other three men reached the same fate five minutes later. She had completed the first part of her plan.

  She had barred the doors because she was going to need some time. To obtain her tome, she was going to need a distraction. She knew that there were council warriors aboard the ship. If she tried to battle them by herself, she would certainly perish. She had no place to flee. She needed another plan. She needed an army.

  During her quest to obtain the tomes of the Order of Twelve, she had learned many of their secrets. Lady Cherula Famana, one of the mistresses of Lord Blackraven who had become a great seductress, had learned how to raise a vampire without burying them. Mikhaeli had been buried and bathed in blood when she was raised by Lord Viktor. While researching his method, she discovered that it was to create a pow
erful heir to his throne. The longer that they slept in the blood soaked soil, the more powerful vampire would become. He wanted a queen thusly he raised her to be powerful. However, she couldn't use that method while at sea.

  Lady Famana's tome was one of the first tomes that she had added to her collection. She had mentioned that she had passed the raising spell along to a powerful Russian lord. She had learned that if she drained a victim and allowed the potential vampire to taste their sire's blood, the vampire would rise quickly. If you cast the 'Spell of the Dead' as Lady Famana called it, the vampire would raise within a few hours. However, Lord Viktor had always needed an army to be raised quickly. The vampires that were not raised in the ground were mindless minions. They could not achieve the status of a greater vampire. She didn't need a prince; she needed warriors. Lord Viktor, in his personal writings, explained that by combining the sire's blood plus the blood of another victim could raise a vampire within an hour. They would be merely mindless drones, but they would be vampires nonetheless. She began her work.

  An hour later, the first vampire stirred. He glanced at Mikhaeli who watched over her new flock. He snarled and approached her. She rolled her eyes. He bared his fangs and hissed. He prepared to leap.

  "Stop, I command thee," she said.

  The vampire immediately stopped. He dropped on his knees and bowed to his queen. She smiled.

  "Rise, I command thee," she said.

  The vampire rose. He blinked several times. He was completely confused.

  "Your will is now mine as decreed by the spell of the dead," she commanded.

  "Yes, My Queen," the vampire, who was the tallest man, replied.

  The 'Spell of the Dead' was the command code for her minions. The spell was enchanted after they were fed their sire's blood. The blood bonds with the blood of the new vampire. The spell bends the vampire to its sire's will. The blood carries the enchanted spell directly into the mind of the vampire. Her blood allowed her to control them.

  Minutes later, all six vampires knelt before their queen. She smiled. She was tired. Despite feeding, she had to give her own blood to create her vampires. However, she could now set her plan into motion. She stared at her minions. They bowed their heads in reverence.

  "Rise," she commanded.

  They stood. "Yes, My Queen," they stated.

  She smiled. "Many families on this level have retired for the night. Find them and feed. Do not kill them all. You must raise your own minions. You will know what to do. It is in your blood. Instruct your minions as I have you. Do not leave this level of the ship."

  "Yes, My Queen," they stated.

  "Be warned. There are warriors on this ship who live to fight our kind. Kill them all."

  "Yes, My Queen," they stated.

  "Go," she commanded.

  The vampires rose as one. As if on cue, hunger overcame them. They unbarred the door and they dashed from the room. Within minutes a few screams could be heard but they were quickly silenced. In another few hours, she would have more minions to do her bidding. Her distraction was now in place. The council warriors would respond. When they did, she would be ready. She smiled.

  The door opened. Two women from the cleaning crew entered the room. They looked at each other and shrugged. Before they could say another word, they were pulled inside the room. A scream was quickly muffled as Mikhaeli drained them. An hour later, she had added two more members to her minion army. She sent them forth like the others of her growing army.

  She bathed and discarded her blood stained clothes. She found suitable replacements on an unfortunate soul who decided to bathe with her. She fed merrily. She hated washing off the blood but she needed to return to her cabin. She did have to keep up appearances. She climbed the stairs to the upper levels. Screams of agony and fear filled the lower levels of the ship. She smiled.

  "It won't be long now."

  CHAPTER 15

  APRIL 14, 1912

  The air was cold and still. Lieutenant Henry Wilde, the chief officer, marched along the promenade deck toward the cabin of White Star Line chairman Bruce Ismay. White clouds puffed from his nostrils as he hurried towards his impromptu meeting. He ignored the cold air. Beads of sweat pockmarked his brow. Even in the cold air, his feverish pace had raised his body temperature. However, his sweat was caused by something else. It was fear.

  He reached Ismay's cabin door. Ismay had left distinct orders to let him rest. He had awakened very early the morning prior and he was up late into the evening entertaining some of the wealthier first class passengers. Ismay was always entertaining the first class passengers who he saw as potential investors in the company. He had assumed the managing director position due to his allegiance to his father and he had made the company profitable. He worked tirelessly to make White Star Line stand out against its competition in the highly competitive shipping industry. This voyage was no different than any other. Ismay always worked hard to keep his company profitable. However, it was his other job that required Lieutenant Wilde to knock on his door.

  Ismay angrily opened the door. "The goddamn ship had better be sinking," he grumbled.

  Lieutenant Wilde touched his right hand to his brow and saluted. To the untrained eye, it would look like a sloppy salute to a high-ranking company official. To the trained, eye, like Ismay's, it said something else. Ismay turned pale. The salute told him that Lieutenant Wilde was not waking him for White Star Line business. He had brought him council news.

  "Come in, Lieutenant," he said.

  Wilde entered the room as he stepped past Bruce Ismay. The chairman untied his robe and retied it. He casually looked to his left and to his right to see if anyone was nearby. No one was in sight. He closed the door and locked it. He checked the blinds to make sure that no one could see into his room. He turned to his fellow council member.

  "We have received news?" Ismay asked.

  "No, sir, we have not," Wilde replied.

  "Then what could it…" Ismay's voice trailed off.

  "Yes, sir, there are vampires aboard," Wilde said.

  "Vampires?" Ismay asked.

  "Yes, sir, we have more than one and they are in the lowest levels of the ship," Wilde replied.

  Ismay put his hand to his chin. "They are probably avoiding the sunlight," he said. "Have our warriors been dispatched?"

  "Corporal O'Connell and his squad have been dispatched," Wilde answered.

  "And how many men are in his squad?" Ismay asked.

  "Eight men, including O'Connell, sir?"

  "Eight men against multiple vampires?"

  "They are a recon unit, sir. After they know the size of the force that we are facing, I will dispatch the remainder of the platoon. They have been notified and they are beginning to gather. Captain Smith has dispatched a messenger to the unit. He will immediately inform us of any change in the situation."

  "If the situation is worse than we realize?"

  It was Wilde who turned pale. "The council members in the crew are ready to do what we must, Mr. Ismay."

  Ismay nodded. "I want an update by midday."

  Wilde bowed. "Of course, sir."

  Wilde started towards the door.

  "Mr. Wilde?" Ismay said.

  Wilde turned to face his council leader. "Yes sir?"

  "This news cannot reach the rest of the ship. If rumors persist, I expect you to find a reasonable excuse to explain any commotion."

  Wilde nodded. "Understood, sir."

  "May the Lord be with us," Ismay said.

  Wilde didn't say another word. He unlatched the door and he left. Ismay rubbed his tired eyes. He removed his robe and headed to his personal water closet. He had yet another early day. He had much to do.

  Next stop: A meeting with Captain Smith.

  * * *

  The sky had become a lovely shade of violet. Mikhaeli loved every second of it. The sun had disappeared and it was time for her to put the second part of her plan into motion. She was also thankful that the wind had died do
wn. The sea was calm and a beautiful, moonless night sky was forming. It was so dark and mysterious. She walked along the deck near the security cabin. She strolled back and forth. Men, again, admired her and she even stopped and struck up a few conversations. Eventually, the air had become colder. The cold air drove the men, with who she was flirting, into the dining halls. Her reason for being on the deck was vanishing. Bruce Ismay, who she wanted to see depart from the security cabin, might win out after all. As long as he was there, she couldn't gain access to the tome.