The Vampires Of Livix Twin Pack (Volumes #2 & #3)

by Smith, J Gordon

  “You have an idea who?” Garin asked.

  “Only a hypothesis but in that search I found some of the assassins that spied on the Ramsburgh Industries plants and I followed them back to their hideout in the woods.”

  “– Where they had me in the basement?”

  “No Anna. They had a second location. An old abandoned barn nearly consumed by the forest. They confined the children to a calf pen and chained your sister to a cow stanchion.”

  “You’ve been in the Ramsburgh Industries lab the whole time?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You didn’t ask –”

  “– I didn’t think I needed to.”

  “– That’s where my work is. No one to bother me so I can continue non-stop.”

  “And you didn’t give me a way to call you –”

  Branoc interrupted, “We need to plan what to do with these people. Any ideas for where to put them somewhere safe? This place is not safe.”

  Garin said, “I’d suggest the North Port property, but they’ve already attacked Anna and I there.”

  Uncle Tremper said, “That would be a good place otherwise. We don’t have any other family properties with houses on them; the others are either businesses or vacant land.”

  Branoc said, “I have one. An old friend that has helped me on this kind of thing before. But a vampire will need to go and stay with them.”

  “Witness protection system?”

  “In a way.” Branoc tore a scrap of paper off a hang tag label from a black fascia leaning against the wall. He wrote on the paper with a pen from his pocket. “These are the directions and the address. Don’t speak them in case ears are about.”

  “Of course.”

  “What can we fit everyone into?”

  “Pack the kids in here,” Branoc said laying his hand on the hood of the red pickup, “But it needs to look different. I’m sure if anyone is watching for us they know this red truck as much as my car.”

  Garin said, “Leave that to me. Everyone take that isle passed the engine blocks and into the lean-to shed on the back.”

  Garin turned the lights on and closed the garage door. He grabbed some buckets of paint from under the workbench. He set them roughly on the work bench, pulled out, and tore off a strip of butcher block paper from a roll hidden under the bench. Rolls of masking tape dangled from his wrists like chunky white bracelets. His vampire speed covered everything but the body with paper and tape almost before we had finished filing back into the small room at the back of the garage. Brett closed the door behind us and he and I watched through the thin crack.

  Garin threw worn old paint splashed canvases across the piles of parts littering the corners of the garage and set up his spray rig. Pressure dials and the compressor came to life in a vibrating hum. A switch on an exhaust fan sucked vapor out of the garage. A blur of motion and the red truck disappeared under a fog of black paint. A blur and Garin removed the paper and tape coverings, put away the painting equipment, and rushed us out. The haze of new paint smell quickly became overwhelming.

  “The paint will not dry fully for a day and some bugs will get stuck in it but it’s not meant for beauty.”

  Uncle Tremper climbed in behind the steering wheel.

  I hugged everyone.

  My sister hugged me again and said, “I wish you could have had a happier birthday.”

  “Getting you safe is enough,” I squeezed her hand.

  Garin helped my sister climb into the cab and sit tight against Uncle Tremper.

  “Brett …” Garin said. Brett climbed into the cab. “Now you Anna.”

  “No.” I said, withdrawing from the truck.

  Branoc said, “Anna you really should go too.”

  “No.”

  Garin urged, “I’d like you to go. Even though you’re an experienced vampire killer.”

  Uncle Tremper’s eyebrows lifted.

  “You’re keeping track?”

  “Have to. You’re pretty dangerous.” A smile flashed on his lips but as quickly pushed away.

  “Don’t you forget it,” I said. “But I’m staying.”

  “You’ll distract some of us on this problem,” Branoc said.

  “Maybe. But I’ve been in this since the beginning. They held me a prisoner in a rotting basement. I’m seeing this through.”

  Branoc hefted the last of the children into the truck, “Ok then. The rest of you go directly to the destination.”

  “I’m staying with Anna.” Brett swung his feet out of the cab.

  Branoc said, “No Brett. It’s bad enough to have to worry about Anna. Not both of you.”

  “Claire left you both as dead-dead in the woods. Only after Anna and I finally killed Claire did we rescue you. You need me to help – more than you think.”

  Garin focused sharply, “Brett, this is a vampire conflict. You will only slow us down.”

  “I’m good with a rifle.”

  “True,” said Branoc. “But this is going badly and we can barely watch one.” Nodding toward Anna. “I’m not even sure I should allow her to stay yet. But I think Anna could endanger hiding you. They know she means something to Garin and have already used her as a perfect threat.”

  Brett put his feet down and stood up, “I’m not letting Garin stay alone with her. It’s dangerous, he’s dangerous.” Brett said, pointing his finger at Garin. “Because of him she’s in peril.”

  “Brett. I’ll be all right. I’ll make my own decisions. You need to go. Branoc is right that I’m a risk. I can’t be worried that anyone is anything but safe. You too Brett.” Brett reached for me to put his arm around me. I pushed back against his chest touching his hard unyielding muscles. “Brett, I need you to go with Uncle Tremper.”

  Brett looked around and leaned back toward the truck seat, “Garin, you make sure you keep her safe. I’ll hold you responsible if anything happens.”

  “We are holding ourselves responsible. I see a hard road,” Branoc said, “you’re going to have to trust us.”

  “Brett, stay with my sister’s kids. I want you watching over them,” I helped Josh clamor onto Brett’s lap and helped get Joanna find a spot to wedge into the seat.

  Brett shifted from under Joanna and his hands snatched at my face. He pulled me to his lips and kissed me hard. Why did I see such sweet intensity with this kiss? I fell into his grip and hung my arm around his neck drawing him closer. His fingers stroked the sides of my face and against my ears and his voice whispered between the long kiss, “I’m never giving you up.”

  “I know.” I looked at his deep green eyes, “You better go.” I nudged him toward the kids and the truck bench seat. Garin slammed the door. The zinc handle dimpled into the steel door panel under the vampire’s repressed anger.

  Brett cranked the window down, “Anna, you better be careful. And Garin, if I hear she is hurt then you’re not safe.”

  “Yes.” agreed Garin. He wanted to get them moving. The longer they tarried the more risk to them all. The more probable his anger might leak out.

  Looking at my sister and Uncle Tremper, Branoc added, “ Remember: unless a dire emergency, no calls. Phone batteries out. They can trace and kill everyone.”

  Uncle Tremper nodded, he had already left his at the lab, and my sister lost her phone in the rubble of her house. Tears ran down her face. I could tell her lost phone brought her mind back home to where the vampire assassins murdered her husband Michael. Uncle Tremper started the engine. Garin raised the garage door. Garin and Branoc stood outside the door to watch the horizon yet everything seemed clear. The black truck rolled out of the garage. The full moonlight stretching a taught line of light from the shiny bumper across the truck until the knife edge of light bathed the entire shimmering blackness of the vehicle. Brett fixed his eyes on me standing in the shadow of the garage until Uncle Tremper drove from the driveway and went West with his cargo.

  Gone.

  -:- Two -:-r />
  Doctor Theron Aravant used the steps to his side entry and typed in the password on his key-less security system. The solenoid clicked open and he pushed through the door.

  He carefully removed his shoes behind the door and set them in line on the little two row shelf. He wondered if he had acquired the need to remove his shoes upon entry into his home from his century in Japan or maybe the two hundred years in India. Somewhere it had entered his list of habits. Probably not a dangerous habit for a vampire. It helped to lower the dust in his house as well as keep the place neat and tidy without shoes spilled about his place.

  He opened the door to the small closet near the door. Pitifully small given the size of the rest of the house. Originally, it was a wardrobe when those pieces of furniture were still in style. So many things went in and out of fashion. Useful things like this wardrobe only considered now if they housed a television set, at least before televisions went to LCD technology and became larger and thinner than a tube-type television could ever imagine – and those were fanciful novelties in themselves. Now those flat screens hung on the wall like paintings. How the world changed but also stayed the same. Farmers in the nine hundreds in France furiously debated hoe improvements they heard about from Egypt. At least in the quiet times between wars. His thoughts skipped again, how many wars?

  “So how many wars have you been in?”

  “I didn’t think I spoke that aloud.”

  “You must be getting old,” laughed a voice from the study. A familiar voice.

  “I thought you planned getting here at ten?”

  “I did. It’s eleven already.”

  Theron looked at the ornate clock as he approached, “And so it is.” Theron realized his early signs of hunger. Slips in mental acuity. Then later his head stares into a jumbled spinning blender full of ragged thoughts and pain. Withdrawal. Too long since feeding. With the mechanizations of his effective plan bearing fruit, he could not fall back on Massai. He would need to feed sooner rather than later, now. His age allowed him to survive on less blood than a newly made or still young century old vampire. Many old ones often fed for sport and pleasure rather than need. But the signs showed he approached need.

  “Talking about old,” the voice’s owner sat in the darkness not reached by the small lamp on the coffee table. The light sucked out of the room by the dull blackness of the leather wrapped furniture crowding the lamp for warmth, or to blot it out, “Why so few really old vampires?”

  “Vampires do not live forever. It’s a myth like holy water and wooden stakes. A lot of ways to fall from immortality – even by those that try to last.”

  “How so?”

  “Boredom. Mistakes. Love. Hate. Emotions that can kill normal humans,” Theron touched his brow with his long thin finger, “It’s here that the old vampires perish. Their own minds. Keeping active and actively in charge of one’s thoughts and plans helps one survive.”

  “I understand the other issues, but how does boredom set in? I think you can always find something to do.”

  “Yes, it’s unimaginable the first two hundred years. But then a vampire begins to think. That thinking is the problem. Vampires are surprisingly powerful creatures but we’re built on the bones and flesh of normal humans. A human mind is designed for a hundred year run. A certain pace. When vampires exceed that then other things wiggle, scurry, and creep in.”

  “That sounds ominous.”

  “Yes. There are corners of the mind that become needy for interactions with other vampires or regular humans. But regular humans are so frail and last such a short time. A human thinks they have a long life, seeing some eighty years on average, but it’s a blink of time to a vampire. And you do not see your eighty years frozen as a twenty-one year old. You have forced entertainments to distract yourself. You get injured working or playing. You learn to walk with a bad knee. Arthritis sets in. You get diabetes or some other debilitating disease where you are alive but you must study and cope to survive. A vampire does not change from the time they are made.”

  “What about the amusements of killing? A vampire has that to contend with if not arthritis or a bum knee.”

  “They watch loved ones deteriorate. They must move on. Repeatedly. The other alternative is to find another vampire to share the journey but two hunters need a larger flock to feast upon. They hunt differently. The hunting habits of two vampires are more easily noticed than a single vampire. Then the hamlet they feed upon rises up against their hungry predations. Mistakes eventually happen, unavoidable really, as the propensity for errors increase geometrically with two vampires strapping their probabilities together. And so the vampire becomes victim to the material inside his skull.”

  “Interesting that chronic boredom is such an undoing mechanism. How does a vampire cope?”

  “A smart vampire finds things to do.”

  “And this is the project you found for yourself to keep going? After how many years?”

  “Yes, Reginald. A project. I’ve been in this life of a vampire for twelve hundred years or so. No, this isn’t the only project, but it is the biggest now. It will bring balance to our existence. Vampires will not need to hide any more. There will be no fear. No further torch-fire. No angry mobs with pitchforks, swords, and violence. Both humans and vampires will coexist peacefully, sanely. It is the best solution.”

  “I’m not sure it’s the best solution.”

  “It is. When you pile together the number of years and the unfolding history in front of your eyes it is much different from reading lies told in history books – told by whoever fancied themselves the victors. You stack those years and events and you see from the top of them how much this plan makes sense. How much these changes can reduce operating costs. People are inefficient at allocating resources. We control the costs and the risks. It is a great investment vehicle.”

  “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

  “Reginald, I appreciate how you’ve been a good sport about this. You know we had little choice to make you into a vampire. The fumbling fools that captured you nearly drank you to death before they got you to me. We had either to turn you or let you die. We need your skills. I assure you your family remains safe.”

  “That’s what I’m concerned about,” Reginald’s voice clutched at sharp spears.

  “I destroyed the vampire responsible for the mistake. Your anger will subside. The feelings for your family will as well. You have a new life to understand and live now. That will last as long as you can keep the material in your head focused on projects and not left to wander. I think that mind of yours could wander so far and effortlessly that you will need to keep special attention on that particular risk.”

  “A risk. Yes.”

  “And to warn you, in case your mind works along other venues, you won’t be a strong vampire among vampires for some time yet. So your strengths as a human must carry you. And you lack training for how to survive among vampire society until I teach you.”

  “Like Damascus steel?”

  Theron saw the book at Reginald’s elbow now, and the empty spot on his bookshelf on the side wall, “Yes. That book describes how the water pattern of those blades can kill a vampire … but only if you get the steel close to an experienced survivor.”

  “I understand.”

  “It’s good you know your new weakness that humans may exploit.”

  “Yes. I have to study my new situation.”

  -:- Three -:-

  “Our bad guys strike again,” Branoc said, looking at his phone. He flipped his phone over like a wet fish and removed the battery. The screen went dark and he tossed the pieces into the cup holder. He put the car in gear and they rolled passed the coffee shop to round the park.

  “What do you mean?” asked Garin.

  “There’s been a break-in at a small manufacturing facility at the edge of town. The human police thought it might be a drug lab when they got their warrant. But it’s not.”

  “What is it?” I asked.<
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  “It’s a manufacturing plant to grow viruses once you have the raw genetic form out of those truck containers we loaded with Reginald.” Branoc glanced sideways at Garin, accusingly. He returned his attention to driving and pressed the car faster as he came out of the downtown circle road. The buildings blurred. I sat far back into my seat and tugged at the seat belt.

  We arrived at the rusty hulk of a building in a tiny industrial park on the east side of Livix. The part of the city that never really grew for some reason. North and West turned into the hottest directions to have owned land over the years. Everyone with means built their houses there. Companies leased or constructed plants there.

  Heavy box-elder trees hid the offices at the front of the building behind fractured branch stumps and limbs hanging in broken angles from winter ice and wind storms. The tendency of these trees to compensate for their weaknesses of strength became expansive growth. Fast growing weedy trees with huge seedings and suckers snarling their root balls crowded out other more pleasant woody plants. A neglected pair of plum trees stooped over with their own fractured limbs below the natural landscaper trim line and struggled under the shadow of the scraggy box-elders. The aluminum clad door wrapped wire-glass panes with several cracks through them while the aluminum frame itself showed an array of old lock sets and solenoid systems added and removed over years by many tenants. Branoc unhooked the strip of police caution tape and pulled open the entry door.

  Rumpled photocopy paper boxes scattered across the office. Loose paper sheets blanketed fractured desks and worn chairs. Chairs with chunks of cushion missing from their seats or backs revealing dirty foam with holes in them like dogs had entertained themselves for years chewing on them like rawhide strips. Tattered duct tape repairs showed further years of use and neglect.

  A grungy door sported a faded black sign indicating “Plant”. A heavy oil stained path wound through the ancient office snaking in a sad lazy blur of sludge underneath the door. Branoc pushed the door outward, the door had a mix of chipped paints in surprising colors and somehow pock marked with rust even though an oily residue buttered its surface in wide swaths like carelessly prepared toast.