Celeste was right. She was running out of time. Jerusa was good at locating savages within close range, but the Stewards were looking for more clairvoyance. She didn’t know what to do, but sitting on this rock, waiting for the sun to come melt her, wasn’t going to solve a thing.
She stood up, buckled over, falling into Celeste.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes,” Jerusa said, standing straight. “It’s just the thirst. Feeling a little weak is all. Alicia and I need to…” She still felt weird saying it. “Do you mind keeping watch for me?”
“Sure. No problem.” Celeste sat down, cross-legged, and closed her eyes.
“What are you doing?”
“Trust me. I can feel much better than I can see. You’re safe. The others have finished burning the rest of the buildings and are gone off to feed. Taos is circling the town just in case any savages come crawling out.”
Jerusa preferred to be alone for this, but at least Celeste had her eyes closed. Alicia came close without being asked. She turned her head to the side and dropped her shoulder. Jerusa took Alicia by the arms, pulled her as close as she could, and bit into the ghost’s neck.
Alicia didn’t have any blood to drink, but then again, she didn’t have any flesh to feel either, and that didn’t stop Jerusa from touching her. Jerusa had long ago stopped trying to understand the strange bond forged between them the day she was given the dead girl’s heart.
Jerusa’s body filled with a soothing heat, as if she were submerged in a hot spring. Her borrowed heart slowed to a steady beat, and with each pulse came a shutter of ecstasy. The world melted way until only she and Alicia stood in a dark and formless void. Time lost all meaning. Alicia put her hand on Jerusa’s scar and gently pushed her back. Once separated, both the ghost and the vampire dropped to the ground, gravity violently thrust upon them. They stared at one another, panting, and before she vanished, Alicia gave a pained smile and a tiny wink.
Jerusa stood to her feet and faced Celeste. The augur came close, and looked her over with a doctor’s scrutiny.
“You’re showing,” Celeste said, pointing to the tiny ring of blood that had formed around each of Jerusa’s irises, and the reddish tinge of her lips.
Jerusa bit down on her index finger, splitting the skin with her sharp fang. She placed a few drops of blood into each eye, then rubbed a good smear over her lips. Her face burned hot for a moment as the blood reabsorbed, taking with it the signs of her starvation. Shufah had taught her this trick, and though it had kept the Hunters’ suspicions at bay thus far, she found that she was having to resort to it more and more often. Jerusa started to drop her hand, but noticed another droplet of blood form at the end of her finger.
That was strange. Usually, she healed so fast that she had to bite herself more than once. She sucked the blood from her finger, and her knees nearly melted beneath her. A sting of anger shot through her. Why did Alicia forbid her to taste the blood of others, yet she could taste her own? Jerusa could understand the ghost’s objection to her feeding on humans, but why couldn’t she, at least, drink from Taos or Celeste?
It took a moment for the blood to stop. Jerusa was starting to worry that the bite wouldn’t heal, but when she pulled her finger from her mouth, the wound was gone.
Celeste’s brows were furrowed, a question perched upon her lips, but before she could ask, she flinched as if startled. She moved to the edge and made a circuit of the boulder.
“What’s wrong?” Jerusa asked.
“We’re not alone.” Her eyes were wide, searching the dark horizon.
“The other Hunters? I thought you said they were gone.”
“They are. I don’t recognize these vampires.”
“How did they sneak up on us?”
“I don’t know. They blocked my sight. I sense that they are allowing me to read them. They want you to know they are here.”
Jerusa walked along the edge, peering into the night. The eastern sky, announcing the coming dawn, had changed from black to the subtlest of purples. The direction of the coming sun is where she found them.
Standing atop another rock formation, off in the far distance, stood three vampires, all women. The one on the left was a black woman with short hair. The one on the right had alabaster skin and a long mane of red hair. The one in the middle had olive skin, just like Silvanus, and her hair was a luminous white. Then, in a movement so coordinated it seemed they were one instead of three, the women leapt to the ground and vanished into the night.
CHAPTER FIVE
The walls were white, bright enough to blind. Outside the large observation window, the room was littered with puddles of shadows. Shufah laid on her back in the farthest corner, staring up at the electrified ceiling fifteen feet above her head. Waves of nausea flowed through her, the world spun in a slow spiral, and her heart shuttered in an abnormal rhythm.
She could hear them moving all around her, shuffling behind the walls, in the outer most rooms, like an infestation of vermin. They were coming toward her. She knew by the cadence of their strides that it was the scientist named Goodalle and the Light Bearer named Starnes. There were others with them, all human. Some days, she caught the sound of those vile creatures called the umbilicus moving about. Every now and then, she would awake to find them watching her through the observation window, blood lust burning in their black eyes.
Her last memory, before waking up in this prison, was being at home with her coven. Jerusa had beaten the Stewards’ tests. They had been about to trap the Hunters and make their escape, but something happened. She could recall finding the Hunters, Mikael and Quinn, dead upon the ground. The rest was a cloud of pain and fear; a nightmare that continued even when she opened her eyes.
The lights beyond the window powered on. They were very close now. She listened to their hearts pushing the blood through their veins and a terrible burning knot settled into her stomach.
“What is your name?” General Starnes asked. That was always his first question. She didn’t know why he was so concerned with her name. What did it matter?
“I am the Honey Badger,” she said in a hoarse whisper. Jerusa had given her that nickname. She had said it was because Shufah was small, beautiful, and a holy terror when angry. She never told Jerusa, but she actually liked the name. There were many things she should have told sweet Jerusa, but she thought there would be time. She wondered if the poor girl was still alive. If the Stewards hadn’t yet ordered the Hunters to kill her, then that wicked ghost companion of hers had probably starved her right into the Stone Cloak.
“Okay, Honey Badger,” Starnes said, his voice flat and unamused. “Are you ready to cooperate?” She didn’t answer him. “All we’re asking is for you to turn a few of our people. That’s it. You give us some of your blood and we’ll set you free. Is that so much to ask?”
“It sounds quite reasonable.”
Starnes turned to Goodalle. “See, I told you all she needed was a little aggressive incentive.”
The nervous little man shook his head. “I don’t think you should trust her. She’s been a nightmare ever since we brought her here. We should just let the umbilicus feed on her and be done with her.”
Starnes took a step toward Goodalle and the scientist flinched. “We are not going to serve her up to those abominations of yours. They are a mistake. She is the prize. As soon as she gives us our own group of vampires, we can begin the next phase. Remember, the goal is to recreate Lazarus, not hatch mutant byproducts.”
Goodalle gave a sheepish nod, but remained silent. Starnes motioned with his head and two of the men standing with them moved to the side, out of view. There came the hiss of a pressurized door opening, and then closing. After a moment, an almost invisible door opened in the wall to her left. The two men stepped timidly into the room, their faces blank, almost hypnotized. They were frightened—she could smell their fear—yet they were devoted disciples of the Light Bearers, and would dip their faces in fire if they suspec
ted it would bring them some new bit of knowledge.
Shufah motioned for the men to come closer. They moved away from the pressurized room and the door slid shut.
“Remember, Honey Badger,” Starnes said, “if you play nice with us, we’ll play nice with you. You’ve put up a good fight, but you can’t win this war. It’s time to surrender.”
The General was tall and well-built for a man his age. He had an air of power about him that extended beyond his soldier’s physique. There was an arrogance in his stance, as though he had won a great many battles, and with little effort. She could see why the other Light Bearers revered him, and why the infidel scientists cowered in his shadow.
Shufah saw something hidden behind the General’s eyes. His hair had yielded its last few strands of black over to gray. Deep crow’s feet cracked at the corner of his eyes, and his skin had begun to hang loose from his bones. She had lived over five millennia in the body of a teenage girl and had never known the sting of a strong mind trapped within a decaying prison. But she had witnessed the look of desperation in countless mortal’s eyes as they sought for a way to prolong their journeys in this world. She saw that look now.
The man calling himself General Starnes was not running Project Light Bearer for the U.S. military in order to develop “super soldiers”, nor was he a high ranking member of the arcane organization (for which he had named his project) in order to gain some enlightenment to spread to the world. Sure, he may have started with the Light Bearers for that reason, but that cause had decayed within him.
This was a man who was dying and would do anything to steal immortality.
Maybe she should invite him into the cage with her. Give him what he most desired. She could fill him with her own blood, then take him before the Stewards of Life and watch as Marjek judged him too old to deserve the vampire spirit.
Though Shufah enjoyed the thought of Marjek, or one of the other members of the High Council, feeding upon Starnes before burning him to ash, she knew chances were just as good that Starnes would be gifted some power from the vampire spirit that the Stewards would find useful. He would be given amnesty, and somewhere down the timeline, he would eventually cause her trouble.
No. It was best for Starnes to die a mortal, preferably beneath her own fangs. They all needed to die.
Shufah returned her gaze to the two men who were sacrificing their mortality at the alter of knowledge. One man shivered like a puppy lost in the rain. The other man clenched his eyes and held his breath. She slipped subtly between them, caressing their faces like a lover, and the pair of mortals fell into a calm, docile state.
She had her own talents, gifted to her by the vampire spirit. Abilities that she had long kept hidden to all except her twin brother, Suhail, who shared this same gift. It wasn’t anything like the ability to see ghosts, which they had shared as mortals, or telekinesis or pyro-kinesis that the Hunters craved, but it was something the Stewards might still wish to use to their advantage.
Suhail had wanted to tell the High Council for many years. His greatest hope had been to become a Steward. But Shufah forced his silence. It was this, as much as anything, that had brought about his hatred for her. His dark desires had festered within, until nothing else mattered. She should have killed him. She had considered it. But, at the last moment, when she had the chance to end his madness, she faltered. He was her brother, her own flesh and blood, the only family she had left. They had turned their father together. Had mourned in each other’s arms after Marjek had murdered him. Had been at each other’s side for over five thousand years. He may have been able to cast her away, but she couldn’t him.
She had infected him with savage blood believing that he would take his own life rather than become a monster. But he had been a monster a long time; she just never noticed. And now Suhail was the most powerful savage to ever walk the Earth, and he was using the vampiric gift they shared to grow an army.
Shufah forced the jagged memories of her brother from her mind. The men’s eyes were glassed over, their lips curled into tiny smiles. She pulled one man’s head down to her level, brushing her face along his cheek as though she were taking in his mortal scent.
“Can you free me from this place?” she whispered in his ear.
“No,” he whispered back. “I don’t have access. I’m sorry.”
Shufah moved to the next man, repeating her stealthy question.
“I don’t know the passwords,” he whispered. “There’s no way out.”
They were telling the truth. In this state, they lacked the ability to lie. Their hearts drummed steadily within their chests, their breath came in shallow bursts. She regarded the eyes outside the window, not able to mask her disdain. She didn’t like to be watched while she fed, as though she were some exotic animal on display in a circus, being tormented until it obeyed its masters.
Shufah pulled the first man down to his knees and plunged her fangs into the soft flesh of his neck. Immediately, the blood spurted forth. She allowed it to fill her mouth before she drank. She clutched the man close, squeezing him in time with his heart, forcing it to pump more blood. When no more blood would come, and his breath fizzled to a stop, she dropped him to the floor and moved to the next man.
“Turn him,” Starnes demanded, speaking of the first man. “Do it now.”
Shufah drank greedily now, gulping the second man’s blood down so fast that the noise of her feeding echoed in the room. She hugged the man tight, too tight, cracking his ribs and snapping his back. The man woke from his trance, cried out in pain, and tried to free himself from her grasp. A smile broke on Shufah’s face as she turned her eyes on Starnes.
“She’s not going to turn them,” Starnes said, yelling it through his clenched teeth. “Light the room!”
Goodalle stood motionless, not from fear or shock, but from fascination. He seemed to enjoy Shufah’s rebellion. One of the others standing nearby ran out of her view. Shufah knew what was about to happen. They used this tactic many times to settle her down. Maybe this time they would use it to end her.
Shufah closed her eyes just as the room was flooded with purple light. Every inch of her skin exploded in pain as though she had been dipped in sulfuric acid. Her first instinct was to run, find a place to hide from the UV light bombarding her, but in defiance, she held onto the man and binged on his blood.
“Turn it up,” Starnes said.
The light intensified. Blisters bubbled on her skin, popping almost as fast as they formed. Still, she continued to feed, pushing the agony down deep, drowning it in the ecstasy of blood.
“More,” Starnes ordered.
The buzzing of the electric ballasts overhead roared in her ears, vibrated her bones. Her muscles felt as if they had burned to ash and were in danger of blowing away. She could no longer swallow the blood filling her mouth. It poured down on her arms, popping the blisters and forcing a little scream to escape.
She dropped the man on the floor and covered her face with her hands. The UV light was not burning her as it does in books and movies, but was instead breaking her down at a cellular level. She was old and strong, but given enough time, the UV light would turn her into a puddle of sludge. There was nowhere in the room to flee from the light. She dropped to her knees between the two men, and began to claw at the floor in a vain attempt to dig a hole.
“Back away,” Starnes said to her. “Let us collect the men and we will turn off the light.”
Shufah stood up on wobbling legs. Her stomach twisted and the blood she had drunk threatened to come back up. She wanted to scream, but feared that if she opened her mouth, she might turn inside out. The light penetrated her clenched eyelids, washed down the holes of her pupils, and pulverized her brain. Images popped unbidden into her mind. She saw her loving father, changed into an immortal by his children, staked to the ground by Marjek to await the coming sun. She saw her great and perfect love, Foster, as he sacrificed himself to protect his friends from the savage Kole. She saw an im
age of her brother, Suhail, clutching the stub where she had taken his hand and poisoned him with Kole’s blood.
A deep fury curdled in her stomach, and came vomiting out in a cry of rage. If death had finally come for her, then so be it. But she would not go quietly.
Shufah’s legs were leaden, her feet fused to the floor, but somehow, she managed to wrench her right foot up. The pain had burned away all balance and control from her, so when she stomped down on the head of the man that she first fed from, her foot dropped with the force of a tank. The man’s head made an audible pop as brains and bone fragments spattered the window.
She slipped in the carnage of the dead man’s head, and tumbled to her stomach. Starnes screamed something, but Shufah could no longer understand words. The world around her had transformed into a madhouse of pain, where the only currency was death.
Shufah pulled herself over to the other man. His chest rose with shallow breaths, and a faint pulse lingered within him. Without conscious thought, she latched onto his neck and drew forth the remainder of his life. When his heart made its final beat, she pulled away, knotted her hands together over her head, and crushed his chest with a powerful blow.
If she had passed on the vampire spirit to either man through her bite, she made sure it hadn’t taken root in them. These dead men would stay dead.
The last infusion of blood had brought a bit of relief to her, but now the UV lights seemed magnified. Perhaps, Starnes had increased the power again. She collapsed backward and writhed on the floor.
“Sir,” Goodalle said, though his voice sounded muffled and distant.
“Let her cook,” Starnes said.
Shufah smiled. Maybe when she exited this world, Foster would be waiting for her.
Perpetual Creatures, Volumes 1-3: A Vampire and Ghost Thriller Series Page 61