Blood Reign

by Harvey W. McCarthy

  "Damn, it's getting colder," the driver, who was a volunteer like the majority of those who worked for the Canadian Blood Services, said as he exited the warm van. "I need to remember a coat."

  "Oh quit complaining," his fellow Canadian Blood Services worker, a thin, balding man, said. "In a couple of hours, we'll be home drinking a Keith's and watching the game that you recorded."

  "It's not the same as watching it live," the driver protested.

  "You're right," his friend replied as he disappeared around the other side of the van, "It is better. You can fast-forward through all of the intermission bullshit."

  "Not Don Cherry," the driver protested.

  "Again, you prove my point. It is better because you can watch him twice in one night and still not miss any of the action."

  "I agree. What could be better than two episodes of 'Coach's Corner' in one night?" the driver asked as he reached the back of the van.

  "Three episodes hosted by Hooters girls…"

  The second man's voice trailed off as he saw the four orderlies attempting to open the back of the van.

  "What the hell do you think you're doing?" the driver demanded.

  "We are in a rush. We need this," a short, overweight orderly stated. "There has been an explosion."

  "We are well aware of what you need," the driver stated as the doors flew open.

  Three of the vampires, posing as orderlies, were met by a hail of wooden crossbow bolts. They flew backwards. One vampire was struck in the heart and he immediately fell to the ground as his body disintegrated. The two others smiled as the bolts missed their respective hearts. However, their fiendish grins were soon replaced with expressions of fear and agony. Green lines traced their bodies as the poison raced through their undead veins. Seconds later, their bodies shrived as they slowly decayed.

  The short, rotund vampire huddled under the bumper of the van. The council warriors held him in place by surrounding the van. If he moved, a cross was placed in his face and the cowardly vampire cowered under the bumper. The hum of the motor drowned out the sound of the falling rain. It also masked the sound of combat boots as they angrily stomped along the drenched, asphalt streets. The polished black boots stopped at the bumper.

  The frightened vampire trembled as he saw that the two boots had stopped directly in front of him. He let out a short squeak as a hand reached under the van and dragged him out into the rainy night. His undead flesh was scrapped from his hands as he protested his removal from his shelter. He was lifted by his ill-fitting scrubs to face his tormentor. His yellow eyes were pulled up to the angry face of Christopher Heart. The vampire hunter sneered. His own eyes turned yellow. The vampire let out another terrified squeak.

  The rotund vampire struggled against Chris' grip. He cocked his fist and raised it to strike. His nose shattered as Chris pulled him forward and slammed his head into the vampire's face. He wailed. Blood dripped between the angry vampire hunter's eyes. He released the vampire and he fell to the ground. The council warriors leapt from the back of the van. They pointed their crossbows at their bleeding, crying foe.

  Chris shook his head. "Get the blood inside," he said as blood from the wound on his forehead trickled between his eyes.

  "Do you need help?" the driver asked.

  "Just my supplies," Chris replied.

  A warrior reached into the back of the van and removed a canvas backpack. He tossed it to Chris who caught it and slung it over his right shoulder. "Thanks," he said as he lifted the vampire from the ground with his left hand.

  "Are you sure that you won't need help?" the warrior who had removed the backpack asked.

  Chris smirked. He gave the vampire another head-butt and he threw the barely conscious creature over his left shoulder. Within seconds, he had disappeared into the darkness. The warriors grabbed the rotting vampire bodies and dragged them into an alleyway. They tossed the bodies into a dumpster before returning to the van. Several security members had responded to the reported skirmish in their parking lot. The drivers assured them that they were fine. Their warriors had disappeared into the night.

  Chris watched the warriors disappear amongst the populace of the city. The warrior, who had replenished his hunting supplies, removed his jacket and sweats. He wore scrubs underneath his clothes. In his pockets, he carried his stethoscope and hospital identification card. Chris smirked as he watched two others remove backpacks from behind dumpsters. They quickly removed their outer attire and they too were transformed into members of the medical community. One transformed into an orderly and the other became a nurse. Like the doctor before them, they had blended into the unsuspecting world.

  Chris found a darkened area at the back of an alleyway. He threw the groaning vampire onto a pile of trash bags. He scoffed as the vampire crushed several bags. A stench infused mass of rotted food from the hospital cafeteria exploded from the bags. Halifax, despite the American imposed stereotype of Canada never being dirty, wasn't immune to the fallacies of a metropolis. Due to the disaster, trash disposal had become haphazard and, for a brief moment, tarnished the image of the city.

  The soiled alleyway didn't faze the focused vampire hunter. He dropped to one knee and removed his backpack from his shoulder. He opened the pouch and smiled. Everything that he would need along with a few bonuses had been supplied by his fellow council warriors. He ripped the right sleeve from the vampire's shirt and tossed it away carelessly. He removed several of the bonus items that had been included in his pack and he started to work. Moments later, he was ready and he slapped the vampire across the face.

  "Wake up," he ordered coldly.

  The groggy vampire, who had been knocked unconscious when his head had hit a trash bag filled with hard medical supplies, tried to focus on his tormentor. Chris slapped him harder. The vampire sleepily attempted to focus on the yellow irises that stared coldly at him. Reality hit the vampire as the cold rain splashed against his face. He cleared his vision. A sharp pain in his arm caused him to focus. He saw that a small catheter had been inserted into his arm. It was attached to a long plastic tube. Nourishing blood hung from a bag at the end of the tube. He sighed.

  "I knew that you were one of us," he said as he tried to stand but he couldn't move.

  He soon discovered that he had been bound to a discarded gurney. Grey duct tape held him firmly in place. He struggled against his restraints. The tape was wrapped in several thick layers. His enhanced vampire strength only served to roll the tape into tighter restraints that bit into his skin. He tried to scream but Chris slammed his palm over his mouth.

  "I am not one of you," he said coldly as he held up a syringe to his captive's face.

  He pressed the plunger and a clear liquid shot from the tiny needle. The liquid joined the rain as it fell onto his face. However, unlike the rain, it sizzled against his skin. His scream was muffled by Chris' hand. Fortunately for the vampire, the rain had increased and it washed the scalding holy water from his skin. He panted as he watched his tormentor. Chris removed his hand and he pointed to the bag of blood. He had already clipped off the flow of blood and he stuck the needle into the injection port for liquid medicines. The white plunger, not completely depressed, frightened the vampire.

  Chris removed his left hand from the vampire's mouth but his right thumb remained firmly pressed against the syringe. "You will scream if you don't do exactly as I say," he said as he nodded towards his thumb.

  The vampire nodded.

  "Good," Chris said softly, but with a chill to his voice, "We understand each other."

  "W…What are you?" the vampire asked.

  "I ask the questions," Chris said.

  The vampire nodded again. "S…S…Sor…"

  "Just shut up so I can ask my question," he sneered.

  The vampire nodded furiously.

  "Where the fuck is Le Doux?" Chris asked.

  The vampire shook his head. "H…He will have me killed," the vampire protested.

  Chris extended his r
ight thumb up and down. "Hmmm, I wouldn't be too worried about him right now because if you don't answer within the next three seconds, you are going to die slowly and, I can guarantee, painfully."

  The vampire's eyes widened. "THE MARITIME MUSEUM OF THE ATLANTIC!"

  "Why?" Chris pressed as he grabbed the vampire by throat and squeezed.

  A gurgle escaped the vampire. "The…The…The Queen ordered him there."

  "Why?"

  "Something about a book!"

  "Where is it?"

  "The book?"

  Chris squeezed again. "THE MUSEUM! YOU FUCKING MORON!"

  "W…WATER FRONT OFF OF BARRINGTON STREET!"

  "WHEN?"

  "N…NOW!"

  Chris released the vampire. He angrily turned away. He pulled out the syringe and jabbed it into his arm. He depressed the plunger and the holy water filled his veins. The holy liquid instantly bonded with his vampire blood. He shivered and thrashed for several seconds as pure agony filled his body. He panted as he reached for his backpack. Painfully, he slung it over his left shoulder. He started to leave the alleyway.

  "W…What about me?" the vampire protested.

  "Sorry," he said as he walked back towards the restrained vampire.

  "W…What was in that needle?" he asked.

  "The same thing that is in here," he said as he clicked the release on the blood bag.

  "Which is?"

  "Lunch."

  The blood began to pump into the vampire's veins. He smiled. Chris walked away. Seconds later, he screamed as his body began to dissolve from the holy water infused blood. His veins smoked as the blood traveled through his body. He wailed. His body shook. His eyes disintegrated as smoke bellowed from his eye sockets. He wailed. Chris watched the vampire die. He walked away.

  He smiled evilly.

  * * *

  Mikhaeli was growing impatient. All of the other patrons, who had been in the museum prior to her arrival, were escorted in small groups through the remainder of the exhibit. Due to the lack of security, groups had to wait as the remaining security guards escorted them from one room to the next. She smiled sweetly at each passerby as they left the museum. Carl personally thanked each person, as they left, for their patience and understanding. He used his iPhone to read police reports so he could update concerned patrons. However, as each person left ever so slowly, Mikhaeli's impatience grew.

  She had given Carl a phone number to call when he had informed her that he could not provide a tour without security in the building. He explained that their contract with RMS Titanic Incorporated specifically detailed how many security personnel must be present at all times. When the off-duty police officers left suddenly, he was barely within their standard operating procedures. When several other security members left after their shifts had ended, Carl was in a bind. He reluctantly called the number and he was informed that a security team would be dispatched immediately. Because it was short notice, they demanded that they be paid in cash for their services. Mikhaeli tapped him on the arm and she inquired about the problem. She giggled when he said that they each wanted a hundred dollars to work that evening. She pulled the money from her purse and handed if over to Carl, but that was over an hour ago.

  She stood and stretched. She was growing restless and angry due to the delay. Her hunger began to fester. She knew that she would not leave without her prize, but if she allowed her hunger to consume her, she could make mistakes. Mistakes would mean that she would satisfy the hunger that raged within her body, but her quest would not be completed. As she glanced at the wall and noticed that another minute had passed, her frustrations continued to grow. She began to stomp angrily around the room.

  "Michelle," a concerned Carl asked, "Are you okay?"

  She smiled sweetly as she fought the urge to rip out his throat. "Oh, just a little hungry. What is keeping them?" she inquired.

  Carl smiled. His neck swelled. She could hear his heartbeat. She could sense the blood as it pulsed through his veins. She swallowed away her pain.

  "Actually, they just phoned a moment ago and said that they were diverted due to police barricades. They pulled over and they are walking the last few blocks. They should be here at any moment," he said cheerfully.

  "Thank you," she said as sweetly as she could manage. Her stomach growled.

  "Oh good heavens," Carl said. "You are hungry. We have a few snacks in our staff office. Would you like something?"

  I'd love to rip out your neck and suck you dry, she thought. She held up a hand. "Oh I couldn't impose."

  Carl scoffed. "Think nothing of it especially after all the money that you donated this evening."

  Before she could speak, Carl dashed behind the counter and into the back office of the museum. Mikhaeli smiled at the young woman behind the counter. Carl had asked her to stay past her regular shift to greet anyone that came to the door looking for tickets. She was surprised that only a few people had come to the door in the last hour. She had put a closed sign on the door with a brief explanation, but there were those select few who would still knock. Mikhaeli laughed silently at each one of them because she knew that they were a member of the intellectually challenged. A moment later, as the young lady walked to the door to speak with another person who couldn't understand the written word, Carl returned with a Styrofoam bowl filled with pretzels and a can of diet cola.

  "It's not much," he said as he smiled, "But it will keep you alive."

  I fucking doubt that, she thought as she took the bowl and the drink from him. "Thank you," she said sweetly.

  "You're welcome," he said.

  He had already opened the can and she took a drink. Generic. Cheap fucks, she thought. She licked the soda from her lips. "Mmmmmmmm, that hit the spot," she cooed.

  Carl swallowed hard. "Um, you're welcome."

  Before Mikhaeli could continue her game of seduction, a knock at the door took his attention away from her. Six large men dressed in security uniforms waited at the door. Mikhaeli folded her arms across her chest and stared at the six rain soaked men. She could see Le Doux's exasperated expression through the glass door. She shook her head but she gave him credit for pretending not to notice. She didn't want Carl knowing that she knew him directly. It could put him on alert and seriously affect her plans.

  "Gentlemen," Carl said cheerfully as he opened the door, "Thank you for coming on such short notice."

  "As long as you got the money, we got the time," one of the guards stated.

  "Well, this young lady…" Carl said as he turned to face Mikhaeli.

  "…is the daughter of one of your biggest contracts," she said angrily as she strutted forward. "I personally recommended your organization to this fine gentleman. I had expected more professional and…prompt service."

  The guard was about to speak when Le Doux held up a hand. "I certainly apologize for our tardiness. As you may have heard, there has been an explosion and the police have shut down many of the major streets throughout the city. We tried a direct route to the waterfront but all of the major streets are blocked off. It is virtual gridlock out there."

  Mikhaeli nodded. "Very well. Thank you for coming."

  Carl extended his right arm towards the curtain that covered the display. "Gentlemen, the security team will advise you of your positions."

  Five of the six guards nodded and disappeared through the curtain. Le Doux looked at Mikhaeli who smiled. She mouthed 'well done.' He nodded. Carl turned to the head of the security team.

  "Again, thank you for coming. I do have the payment that your company has requested," he said.

  Le Doux held up a hand. "We will work pro-bono on this one. I didn't realize that you were in the company of our biggest benefactor. Mademoiselle Turner is a very important client. It will be our pleasure to accompany her on this tour," Le Doux stated through a thick Acadian accent.

  Carl smiled. "Do I hear a hint of L'Acadie in there?"

  Le Doux genuinely smiled. "Oui," he said.

  Mi
khaeli rolled her eyes. "Gentlemen shall we?" she asked.

  Carl chuckled. "Of course! Please forgive me. My family is descended from the Acadians. This fine young man and I might actually be relatives."

  "C'est possible," stated the French vampire.

  Mikhaeli's impatience was about to explode into a violent rage, but Le Doux held up a hand.

  "However, mon ami, we should escort this young lady before the night gets long," he said.

  Carl extended his hand again. "Yes, forgive me. Michelle if you will. Prepare to be transported back in time."

  She giggled playfully to hide her frustration. She parted the curtains and she closed her eyes to calm her fury. When she opened her eyes, she understood that Carl had not lied. The curtains had hid an elaborate re-creation of the inner hallways of the Titanic. Mikhaeli stood in awe. She touched the wall and a shiver went down her spine. For the brutal vampire queen, tears formed in her eyes as she had been transformed back in time. She wiped them away.