Children of Dionysus (Always Dark Angel Book 1)

by JN Moon

  It is said, that when you feel a cold shiver for no reason, that it is the whisper of an immortal passing near.

  Judgement on mortals and immortals alike fell to me and my kind. I tolerated the vampires, the lesser immortals. They were so ancient, understanding the natural order of predator and prey. By tolerating them, I gained some control over them. It was me and my kind that forbade the killing of innocents, long, long ago.

  We had summoned the lower beings, vampires amongst others, and convened a truce that we, the half-gods, would not destroy the vampires if the vampires hunted only evil humans. A pact that the vampires readily agreed to, for like humans whose desire for evil is insatiable, the vampires desire for human blood is also insatiable.

  But now, in the twenty-first century, the rise in numbers of vampires spiralled out of control. Many were malicious, bold, and took any human they so desired. It would not be long before their existence would become known, and that would spell disaster.

  So, I listened to Tyrell.

  Tyrell was old and although I neither liked nor trusted him, I needed him and his council to keep control.

  “I will help you, Tyrell, but there will be a price. When I have decided that price, you will pay. You will bring your son here on the full moon and I will need the blood of thirteen vampires. And Tyrell, choose well. I will also require some of your blood and the blood of the vicious strain. You know of what I speak... And Tyrell,” and here I paused to make my point, “they must all be alive when I arrive.”

  I knew that appeasing Tyrell and keeping him in my debt was to my advantage. “Now,” I commanded. “I want to see your project. Take me there.” Though I knew what he was doing here, I wanted to see it for myself.

  He led me down the narrow stone steps into the bleak stinking cellars beneath the complex. The place was sparse and threatening.

  I made no comment on the horror I witnessed, I just listened to his explanations, his excuses for the ‘experimentals’ he called them, that after his failings of gene splicing they were neither human nor vampire. Throwing themselves at their cell doors, wailing like banshees, eyes wide with fear and confusion. I showed no emotion, these creatures would tear you to shreds and not comprehend a thing, of that I was sure of. Simply, I shook my head, they were once human, but humans after all are the most dangerous of creatures. Tyrell had been human, then vampire and I judged what he had done to his own kin. That was obviously the human side of vampire nature, there was no reason to point it out to him, he would argue for his own limitations. He led me back up to the complex, upstairs to his best accomplishment.

  “Emidius, this is our greatest success.” As Tyrell opened the door, he introduced me. “Emidius meet Jamie, the leader of our Elite Army. Jamie, meet Emidius. Kneel, Jamie, kneel to her devastating power.”

  Jamie did not respond as Tyrell expected. He did not lower his eyes to his superiors. In fact, he looked straight at me and I watched as he swayed a little, what they had done to him allowed him to feel my energy. He was unlike any other vampire. A hybrid genetically altered with the strongest source of the infection from Tyrell's pure and ancient lineage. Unlike Tyrell, he was young and fit and had the sharp mind of those of this age.

  The vampire he had fed on lay dead on the floor and Tyrell pointed silently to his guards to remove the corpse. Jamie awkwardly knelt before me and was still naked as if it did not occur to him to be clothed.

  “Tyrell, leave us.” I whispered.

  Tyrell's army was growing. Those that failed the therapy were either studied or incinerated at the facilities crematorium. Soon he would have a hundred unsurpassed vampires that would guard them and wipe out all the lesser, vagrant vampires that were polluting the land.

  In Tyrell's mind, this was not genocide. It was order. It was survival. It was the beginning.

  But for now, my mind rested on studying Jamie. To see just how powerful, he really was.

  Blood of the Gods

  Emidius

  Tyrell had a room prepared for the ceremony to restore his son. Alexander was somewhere between life and death after his attack. Tyrell’s face betrayed his emotion as Alexander's lifeless body was brought in and placed on an altar at the end of the room.

  In all the time I had known Tyrell I had never seen him display emotion openly and had thought him incapable of feeling.

  The room was large and square with stone pillars within. The huge windows had heavy drapes pulled together, and black candles filled the room, as I’d requested, the only lighting to be allowed. Incense burned, the air was smoky and thick with the sweet scent.

  A blazing fire filled the large stone fireplace and the flames caressed the surroundings, inviting and warm. The complex was old and the fire was the only heating, so this fire had been built with care to sustain the ritual. Pictures on the wall, as old as the complex, were masked in shadow with the candlelight flickering on them, but aside from its contents of immortals, the room itself gave a serene feeling.

  Thirteen vampires stood chained together in groups around pillars to prevent them from moving within the room. At the largest central pillar, with enough sedation to floor an elephant, and standing amongst an overkill of titanium chains stood the beast, the one they would not name. For even Tyrell feared such a beast. A true immortal, it slouched, massive, its muscular mass oppressive to look at. Its breathing was heavy and heaving and in its sedated state, saliva drooled from its powerful jaws.

  The thirteen were noisy and aggressive, restrained and chained in cuffs, their feet in shackles. Their anxiety was tangible, ashen faces, shrill voices, beads of sweat pouring off their dead faces. Most were shaking, pleading and as I eyed them, their voices trembled all the more, begging for release.

  Panic spread as they eyed the beast and Alexander. They saw their fate before them, argued with the guards, shouting, asking why they were here. What crime had they committed? That this was a medieval travesty. They shouted and demanded justice, for the Elite to abide by their own rules, but it was all in vain. The guards were ordered to make no contact with them, not even eye contact.

  Once I saw that everything was in place, I summoned all to leave with a sweeping gesture of my hand. Tyrell, who had been in there all along overseeing the arrangements, did not stop to argue. Not when his son's life hung in the balance.

  I walked over to the thirteen and as they shouted obscenities at me or pleaded, I simply moved my flat, outstretched hand in front of their faces and they fell silent. As if sleeping, but their eyes wide open in a trance-like state.

  Slowly, I walked to the beast. Treading lightly, I was aware, it had started to awaken.

  “Who are you?” I whispered.

  Its eyes opened slightly and it let out a shrill howl that screamed like nails on a chalkboard throughout the complex.

  “No matter now, you shall find peace tonight, my friend,” I muttered, again waving my hand in front of its face, pale blue light radiating out from it, and falling like dew upon its face. The beast fell silent.

  “Ichor, the blood of thirteen immortals is needed to charge the life force of the one called Alexander,” I called before the altar. My arms outstretched beckoning to the Gods. “Great star Sirius, look with favour as I spill the blood of thirteen immortals and of this beast. Look with favour and give this boy another chance at immortality. So mote it be.”

  I took the silver chalice and the dagger to each of the vampires who were still in a daze, and slit their wrists until a few drops of blood from each of them fell into the chalice. Then to the beast. Sadness overcame me as I cut its wrist and the thick dark blood fell into the cup. This creature is so tortured. Taking the blood-filled chalice to Alexander, and tipping it carefully, I slowly trickled the blood into his mouth, one drop at a time. I waited. Calmness surrounded me here, tranquillity.

  Alexander slowly showed signs of movement. His eyes darted under the heavy lids, his body twitched lightly. I continued to drip-feed him the blood of the immortals. The thirteen hu
ng limply around the pillars, their chains bound together, preventing them from completely slumping against the floor.

  The beast, however, looked a sorry state. Once a magnificent creature capable of putting the fear of God into even the Elite, now it was a collapsed carcass, blood pooled around its base.

  The smell of blood and incense and the heat from the fire smothered the air, wrapped in magic, a familiar smell of old witchcraft.

  Still, I continued to drip the blood into the boy’s mouth, one drop at a time and observing the ever-so-slight movements. Flickering eyes, the corners of his lips. He was an evil bastard for sure, but he was beautiful. Not in a masculine way, in a boyish way, streamlined, sleek, innocent looking. He had used his beauty to gain whatever he wanted from whomever he wanted. Stopping for a while, I traced my fingers over the high cheekbones. He was starting to revive now. The large hole was mending, the skin fusing, white blood cells rushing in urgency to close and heal the wound.

  Ichor. Only thought of as a legend. I was glad, however, that I had not used the blood of actual gods. I would not even contemplate that, especially with one so cruel. But thirteen immortals and the beast, that would be enough to restore him to his former glory. Gazing at him, Alexander looked so innocent, so young. He had been born of a human mother and Tyrell had somehow fathered him, or so the story went, and I doubted that. Tyrell's son. I was distracted then by his sudden intake of breath, a gasp. At last, he had consumed all the blood. Leaning over him closely, I inhaled his scent.

  Why are you so evil? What happened to you? Then I turned to face the altar on which he lay and placing the chalice down, opened my arms once more to beckons the Gods.

  “Great Sirius now so near to this Earth. I call upon the powers of divine life to restore this boy. Give him life once more.” Here I paused. “But, temper him with humility. And I make this pact now; if he acts evil, then take his life. Take it quickly and take the life of his father. So mote it be.”

  Lowering my arms, I sighed, distracted by the vampire before me. In all my years, I had seen many a charming vampire, and sometimes human. He was exceptional. Little wonder why Tyrell wanted him saved. Now I hung back for in my heart I already knew his fate. Just as I knew Jamie’s and I liked Jamie. My mind drifted as I pondered that concept. I am neither human nor supernatural, yet I felt some semblance of emotion.

  Why was that? For a long time, I hadn't felt anything. I had existed in a neutral state until I saw Jamie. As I stood there thinking, the time passed slowly like clouds drifting. Then Alexander opened his eyes.

  Running

  Anthony

  “Tom, Josephine, wake up, we've got to move!” I blurted. We had slept for hours in this dark, damp place. I noticed a foul smell and realised that the stench was us. I shook Tom and Josephine, but they were out cold. I knew that they might sleep longer yet, so I stumbled out of our hiding place to look for blood.

  As I staggered out of the stinking crypt, I looked around. I couldn't remember where I was, then the flashback of what had happened to me and what I had done hit me. At the same time, a violent stabbing pain in my stomach caused me to double over.

  Was this hunger? Falling on my knees I held my stomach, trying hard not to scream out in pain. I crawled on the damp grass, but the pain was too much and I lay there amongst the meadow staring up at the night's sky, holding my knees up to my chest to try to curb the hurt. I hadn't looked at the sky in a long time and as my mind drifted, the pain seemed to lessen. I laughed at my life, whatever it was. But I felt an ease just gazing at the night sky.

  I could stay here forever, I mused to myself. That thought felt so peaceful, so calm. Just stay here, needing nothing. Wanting no one. Just being.

  I had killed some noble vampire freak after debauching most of the population of Bath. I had killed. I had lost the love of my life and now I was here outside a crypt, hiding from God-knows-what, covered in crap and stinking like some foul creature from the bowels of Hell.

  I laughed in a frenzy as my mind went spinning.

  “How appropriate,” I called to no one. “I am a child of the devil. I am living Hell. I deserve this agony.” With that, I lurched over in pain crying out, scrunching up my knees tighter to my chest. I can't run anymore. I am staying here when the sun rises. Who cares... Let whoever find me. I deserve my fate. They deserve their vengeance. I just want to die here.

  And I wished at that moment that the legends were true so that I could just lay here until dawn and burn in the sun. And keep this beloved peace.

  Tom found me first. “Anthony, Anthony, come on, we've got to get out of here. Josephine, help me,” Tom called.

  I lay there grinning, but unable to move. “Leave me,” I growled.

  Tom and Josephine looked the worse for wear, and I had no doubt they, too, were in discomfort. Dawn was nearing and my torment was intense. “This is retribution for the suffering I've caused. Leave me here to die. I don't want to go on,” I groaned.

  “We'd better take him back in the crypt,” Tom said, and he and Josephine carried me in.

  They ignored my cries completely. “I could try,” Josephine said, “I know I've not fed, but I'm better than Anthony.”

  Tom hesitated and nodded.

  She bit her wrist and placed it over my mouth.

  Rather than a steady flow of thick blood, it trickled uneasily and tasted weak, thinned. I would not drink, could not. Take her life as well? Maybe she had used me, but I wouldn’t find my redemption by taking her life. I refused steadfastly until she grabbed the back of my head and forced her wrist to my mouth. Her face was stern, eyes narrowed and furrowed forehead in offence of my refusal.

  Tom shot off to some nearby houses, certain to find something evil to bring back and eat. Unfortunately, there was almost always a rotten human where there were people. Be it addiction, violence, emotional abuse. One thing was for sure; he’d find the worst one and bring it back.

  I drank from Josephine reluctantly. As her blood slowly oozed into my mouth, my anguish eased a little. I felt warmer now and safer. My head swam in that cold, dark, damp crypt, Josephine's blood intoxicating me all the while.

  Why had Alexander's blood made me so ill? As I sat there drinking I lost track of time.

  Tom returned with a worn-looking man, at a guess in his late thirties, though in truth he appeared twenty years older. Haggard by alcohol, his face was deep with lines and saggy with excess skin. Puffy eyes with dark circles, the man tumbled in, falling over his own weight. A sorry state of a human being. You can smell the bad ones; it’s as if they carry their own unique evil scent. He had lost any spark of life to the bottle. We could all feel that this man was aggressive. We could smell the malevolence emanating from him like some foul aroma. It made us feel better to feed on useless, aggressive people. It awakens our primal instincts.

  Another time we would have sent him off, telling him to run. Then we would have hunted him down, toyed with him, put the fear of God into him, and fed from him. All the while, he would be unable to move, but he would be fully conscious that he was our victim this time. He would feel his life slipping away, and with every gulp, we would end the terror of his victims' lives. Or so we thought in our righteous minds. But then we like to show them that there are bigger, more powerful predators out there, watching, waiting for the ones like him.

  But now, they just drank him and fed off his fear. It enlivened them. But for me, I felt sorrow for the man. What causes a boy so full of vibrant life to become that angry, so lost, so wasted?

  “Blood full of hate,” Tom muttered. He pushed the haggard man towards Josephine and the man fell before her on his knees. She lifted his wrist whilst staring looking straight into his tired eyes and bit. Tom grabbed at the other.

  They fed like greedy children and I watched as the life drained slowly out of him. Another victim bled dry.

  Josephine shot me a fierce look and meandered over to me. “Here, have some more,” she said, offering me her neck. I took her, bot
h of us stinking, bloody and dirty. It made me feel carnal, primal. But this time I felt different. Virile and pumped but with no affection, just animalistic instinct.

  She wanted sex, that was all. No emotion. The blood lust fuelled my hunger, and I followed it without regard. I knew then that whatever lay in store for me, this was not what I wanted. It was an empty existence. I would release this torrent within me without feeling. Tom grabbed the back of my head by my hair and in passion pushed me aside.

  Three of us in our depraved obsession totally unaware that we were being watched. When we realised it was too late.

  Wrapped up in our shame, the noise of a safety release on a gun made us jolt around to see a militia force surrounded us with weapons. Lots of weapons.

  Stopping suddenly, awestruck at the soldiers. They were vampires and I remember the urban myths told to me by Sigurd.

  They were striking, black military combats, weapons, boots, organised. We, on the other hand were stupefied, naked, shamed, and very vulnerable.

  A striking blonde vampire strode over to us with such confidence and charisma, he made me feel even more foolish. He stood there for a minute or two before he spoke, eyeing each of us, mainly Josephine. He showed absolutely no emotion in his face, just stood there glaring. I could see he was aroused, and I could see she wanted him. But he was able to contain himself with such eloquence.

  “You,” he said to Josephine. “Get up slowly.” His voice was soft yet deep with authority. He looked like a golden statue.

  Josephine obeyed straight away, out of character and moved transfixed to him. He walked up to her, his eyes tracing her naked body and he stood a hair's breadth away.

  “We have come to take you, all of you,” he said calmly. “You are all in deep shit. Though judging by this human, I ought to kill you all where you stand. Why is the human dead?” With the last word, it seemed he was drawn away from his lust and into the horror of the situation. I was intrigued by that, by his morality.