Vampire Sun

by J. R. Rain

  “We’ll get you out of here, Danny boy,” I said. “And maybe we’ll see you around sometime?”

  He might have smiled at that.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  There she was.

  We all stared down at what had once been a very old and very powerful vampire. No, not one of the oldest, but certainly she’d had her fill of human blood over the centuries.

  “This medallion...” began Kingsley.

  “The diamond medallion,” I said.

  “Yes, this diamond medallion...it’s different than the other medallions, no?”

  I nodded and, staring down at a woman I had also once called a friend, I told Kingsley what I knew: the diamond medallion vanquished the demon from within, all while allowing the owner to retain all the vampiric power, with none of the ill side effects. That she was dead, there was no doubt. Her skin had dried around her skull, knuckles and wrists. The skin itself was just months from rotting off completely.

  “Would you remain immortal?” asked Kingsley, unaffected by the gruesome sight before us. Truth was, I was unaffected, too. Death wasn’t something to fear...but something to embrace.

  You’re scaring me, Sam, came Allison’s words.

  I ignored her, and said to Kingsley, “my understanding is, yes. Or something very close to it. With the diamond medallion, you get to pick and choose the gifts you want.”

  “Sweet deal. Wish I had that,” said Kingsley. “How do we know that Hanner didn’t use the medallion, and, you know, use up its juice?”

  “For one, she’s dead. Two, I saw the demon leave her when she was killed.”

  “So, she hadn’t figured out how to use it?”

  I stared down at her grinning skull. Her eyes had rotted out. “My guess, is no.”

  “So, what do we do now, Sam?” asked Allison.

  I knelt down and said, “For starters, we check her out.”

  I tore open her blouse, revealing a bloody, mostly empty bra. The silver tip of the knife protruded exactly where her heart would have been. Fang had been deadly accurate.

  Allison made a noise and looked away. I didn’t blame her. The scene before us was horrific and macabre, the stuff of nightmares. I loved it. Loved it more than I should have. I stared down at the ghoul before me, intrigued, excited.

  Stop, Sam. Just stop, came Allison’s voice.

  She’s weak, said a voice deep, deep within me, too deep for even Allison to hear.

  I ignored them both and said, “No medallion.”

  “So, what next?” asked Kingsley.

  I shrugged. “Let’s check her pockets.”

  Her clothes were decidedly looser on her than they had been a few months ago. As I searched her, I wondered where her own soul had gone, and if she had finally reconnected with her dead son. Or, worse, had her soul dissipated into nothingness?

  No, I thought, as I moved over to her other side, careful of the knife blade projected through her chest. I can’t accept that. Souls are eternal. Even more so than vampires.

  I knew some believed that a vampire was, in fact, all soul. You kill the vampire, you kill the soul, too.

  Don’t worry about that now, Sam, came Allison’s reassuring thoughts. You’re not dying any time soon.

  Thank you, I said, and reached down into Hanner’s front pocket. And there it was.

  I pulled it out by its leather strap and held it up. It was smaller than the other medallions...and contained only a single diamond rose in the center, which glistened brilliantly in Allison’s ball of magical light.

  I half expected to hear Fang’s voice at this moment. I half expected this to be an elaborate trap. I half expected for other vampires—or even vampire hunters—to descend upon us.

  But none of that happened. Real life wasn’t the movies, of course. This wasn’t an episode of The Vampire Diaries. Real life didn’t throw every conceivable, nonsensical twist and turn at you.

  At least, not this time.

  I held up the medallion before me, letting it spin and catch the light.

  For the first time in a long time, I felt hope.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  I was back in the Occult Reading Room.

  Archibald Maximus greeted me, and then asked me to wait while he disappeared into the back rooms. What was back there, I didn’t know, and what he did back there, I didn’t know that either.

  The Occult Reading Room wasn’t very big. It was located on the third floor of the main Cal State Fullerton Library. The room itself was found against the far wall, which took some time getting to, since the floor itself was nothing short of epic, with rows upon rows of books as far as the eye could see. Once you reached the far wall, there it was, through a nondescript doorway that existed for some, but not for others. If you needed the room, it was there. If you were ready for the room, it was there. If not, then you were shit out of luck.

  “Let those with eyes see,” said Archibald, as he approached me now down the short hallway behind the help desk, a hallway I had never been down. “Let those with ears hear.” He stopped behind the desk and smiled. “Do you understand, Sam?”

  “I do,” I said. “And I think someone is a little full of himself.”

  The Librarian threw his head back and laughed. “It does sound a bit pretentious, doesn’t it? But it’s a truth, Sam. A universal truth, in fact.” He motioned to the array of books shelved neatly throughout the room. “Most of this information would be lost on those not ready.”

  “It would be lost on me,” I said. “Yet, I’m here.”

  “You are further along than you might know, Sam.”

  “Further along in what?”

  “To understand the mystery of it all.”

  “And you understand?” I asked.

  “No, Sam. But that is the goal, is it not?”

  “If you say so. I just want to be a good person, a good mom. I don’t want to kill or be intrigued by death. It’s not me. It’s her.”

  “Understandable, Sam. I think you will get there. But, yes, you are not my typical seeker.”

  “And who is your typical seeker?”

  “An initiate well-versed in the occult, well-versed in mastering himself inside and outside, and mastering those around him as well.”

  “And then, they come to you for what?”

  “Their final training, if you will.”

  “Pardon my French, but who the fuck are you?”

  “It’s not French, Sam. And I have been many people, throughout time and space.”

  “Anyone I would know?”

  “I doubt it, Sam.”

  “But you are an alchemist,” I said.

  “I am that, and much more.”

  “Lucky you,” I said. I drummed my fingers on the desk, thinking. “I’ve heard of Hermes. And Thoth. Actually, I’ve heard of the Book of Thoth. I couldn’t tell you what it is, or what’s in it, but I’ve heard of it, somewhere.”

  “Many people have, although few understand it.”

  “Oh, God, please tell me you didn’t write it. And if you did, can I get it on my Kindle?”

  He smiled. “Hermes was my teacher, Sam. Hermes Trismegistus, to be exact. The Thrice Great.”

  “Okay, now you’re just making up words.”

  “Master Hermes would have smiled at your flippancy, and perhaps added a joke of his own. He had a great sense of humor.”

  “Had? So, he’s dead now?”

  “He’s moved on.”

  “Of course,” I said. “No one dies anymore. So, who was he?”

  “The father of alchemy, and my teacher.”

  “You sound like you miss him.”

  “Every day, Sam.”

  “You knew him for a long time,” I said, sensing the depth of their relationship.

  “Centuries.”

  I think I hit upon a nerve, and he changed the subject. “You have brought something with you?”

  “Would be more impressive,” I said, “if you couldn’t read my mind.” I
slipped my hand inside my sweater pocket and removed the smooth, dense object. I placed it before him on the help desk. “This look familiar?”

  “It does.”

  “I took it from the corpse of a vampire.”

  “Sounds like the beginning of a novel.”

  “Or the end,” I said.

  He motioned toward it. “May I?”

  “Be my guest. You created the damn thing.”

  He smiled and picked up the glittering relic, turned it over in his hand, and rubbed his thumb across the back. Did he just activate it? I wondered.

  “A smudge,” he said, grinning.

  He continued turning it and polishing it, almost affectionately.

  “Yes, affectionately, Sam. It took many, many decades to perfect this very relic.”

  “And yet, you let it collect dust in a curiosity museum for God knows how long—”

  “Thirteen years. And I’m not God, although we are all aspects of God.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, closed it again.

  “I’m always aware of my creations, Sam. I am deeply connected to them, you see.”

  “Actually, I don’t see, but I’ll take your word for it. I still don’t understand how you could let something so valuable out of your sight.”

  “Never out of my inner sight, Sam.”

  “Enough with the doublespeak, Max,” I said. “You know what I mean.”

  “I do, and there comes a time when every parent must release his children into the world. You will discover this soon enough.”

  “I’d prefer to not think about it.”

  He smiled. “You are equipping your children marvelously, Sam.”

  “And you know this, how?”

  “Your children are always at the forefront of your mind, Samantha. I do not have to plumb very deep to see what a remarkable job you are doing, under the circumstances. A mother’s love is a beautiful thing.”

  “Let’s stop right there on a high note, before you start creeping me out.”

  “Agreed,” he said. “Back to the medallion. It needed to find its way into the world—”

  “Yes, yes, like children. I got that. But why?”

  “Don’t you know, Sam?”

  “Know what?”

  “So that it could find you. On its own.”

  I looked at him; he looked at me. Somewhere behind me, a student walked past the Occult Reading Room without missing a step. Let those with eyes see, and all that jibber-jabber.

  “You could have just given it to me, you know,” I said. “And saved yourself a lot of time.”

  “And what fun would that have been?” His eyes might have twinkled. “But that’s not the way it works, Sam. I did not know it was for you, for starters. Not until I met you. Not until you started gathering the other medallions.”

  “Then you’re not surprised that I have this one, too?”

  “No, Sam. I would have been surprised if your one-time friend Detective Hanner had figured out how to unlock it.”

  “But she couldn’t?”

  “No. But she tried valiantly.”

  “I take it there’s more to it than just wearing it?”

  “A tad more.”

  I drummed my freakishly long nails on his help desk, a desk that looked like any other help desk at any other library. The room looked normal, too. Only the oversized, ancient-looking books that filled the nearby shelves looked anything but normal. They looked dark, felt dark and were dark. Some darker than others.

  “Why me?” I asked suddenly. “Why am I the one finding all these medallions? Why do you help me? I’m just me, no one. Just a mom who got attacked a long time ago.”

  As I spoke, I couldn’t help but notice the Librarian’s demeanor softening. He set the medallion down on the desk, near my drumming fingers. He inhaled and, for the first time ever, I saw the young man who wasn’t young express real emotions. And the emotion was heartbreak.

  I looked at the medallion, and then, looked him in the eyes. No, I couldn’t read his mind, but I sensed there was something big going on here.

  Sensed it from deep within me.

  Sensed it from her, in fact. The demon within.

  A cold shiver ran up and down my spine. “The demon inside me...” I began, but I was unable to find the words. Not with Archibald looking at me like that, with so much emotion that it was breaking my heart for reasons I didn’t know.

  “She wasn’t always a demon,” he finished. “She was my mother once.”

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Maximus let me have these moments to work out what I had just heard, except I wasn’t doing a very good job of it.

  “I think I need to sit,” I said.

  I found one of the plush reading chairs that were scattered throughout the room. Of course, I’d never actually seen anyone reading in the chairs, but that was par for the course. I wasn’t sure who the Librarian’s other clients were, or initiates, as he put it. Truthfully, I didn’t want to know, either.

  I sat; he took the chair across from me.

  “Just two normal people sitting at the library,” I said, “although I’m probably talking a little loudly.”

  “No one can hear you, Sam.”

  “Of course not. Why should they?”

  “Sam, you’re upset.”

  “Wouldn’t you be?”

  “I can see how I wasn’t forthright—”

  “How long have you known that the bi—the thing inside me was your mother?”

  “You can say bitch, Samantha. My mother is very much one, and far worse, truth be told.”

  “So, now the truth is being told?”

  “Sam, remember that part where I said let those with ears hear—”

  “Well, I have ears, and you damn well could have told me sooner.”

  “I didn’t know, Sam, not until you arrived with the diamond medallion. Then I knew for sure—”

  “But you suspected all along?”

  “I did, yes. The medallions would seek her out. I would know if it was her only if—and only if—all four medallions were returned back to me.”

  “By the same person,” I said.

  “Yes.”

  “You could have told me...”

  “No, Sam. I could not. It would have affected the outcome. I needed to know, and I needed to know organically.”

  His words made sense, although, for me, one demon was the same as any other. Mother or not, I wanted her out. But even that thought was so...fantastical that I was having trouble wrapping my brain around it. I said as much, although I knew that Maximus was closely following my every thought.

  He answered with, “Every highly evolved dark master started as a human, Sam. And every alchemist, too. Your angel friend is the exception. He was never human.”

  “You know about him, huh?”

  “I’m afraid I do, but he is for another discussion at another time.”

  “Fine,” I said. “Let’s get back to your mother.”

  “She came from a long line of mystics, which shouldn’t come as a surprise.”

  “Right,” I said. “Seeing how you turned out.”

  He nodded. He was sitting forward now in the chair, elbows on his knees. He looked like any other college student. He was handsome, youngish, and clean shaven of the previous pointy beard he had once worn. The deep intelligence and kindness in his eyes gave him away. I noticed that at various times when I had previously seen him, his eyes appeared bright blue, or violet, or even bright green. Today, they were bright blue again and I chalked it up to some mysterious alchemy of his old soul. He was clearly not like other students. Or like anyone else, for that matter.

  “My mother was seduced by the darkness, to put it lightly. She wasn’t, shall we say, very disciplined.”

  “She looked for shortcuts,” I said.

  He nodded. “Very good.”

  “What year are we talking about?”

  “Fourteen thirty-two. Over six and a half centuries ago.”


  “Gee, you don’t look a day over two hundred.”

  He cracked a smile. “There are far older in the world, Sam. I’m a relative newbie to all of this.”

  “Did you just say ‘newbie’?”

  “I did, and I’m proud of it. It’s a good word.”

  I wanted to laugh at the insanity of it all, but that would have only added to the insanity. I kept my emotions in check and said, “So, your mother took shortcuts.”

  “They all took shortcuts, Sam. They sought immortality quickly, without the necessary work.”

  “And you put in the necessary work?”

  “I did.”

  “With Hermes?”

  “Yes. Myself and others.”

  “Other alchemists?”

  “Yes, there are many out there like me.”

  “Many?”

  “Okay, a few.”

  “So, your mother and others like her, they sought a shortcut to immortality?”

  He nodded. “And their shortcut was a very dark and wicked one. They hurt a lot of people. They hurt themselves, too.”

  “They hurt you?”

  “Yes, Sam. I was witness to many horrible acts. It is why I sought another purpose.”

  “To stop her.”

  “To stop them. But I needed help.”

  “Hermes?” I said.

  “Yes, Sam. The greatest of us all. The master’s master, as he is referred to.”

  “Sounds kind of badass.”

  “The baddest of all asses.”

  Okay, now I did snort. “So, what did Hermes do?”

  “He removed them, Sam.”

  “All of them?”

  “Yes. And it wasn’t easy. There were battles and wars, often fought outside of history books. My mother and others like her—that is, those who mastered the dark arts—put up a tremendous battle. We lost some good people, and so did they. But in the end...”

  “Good triumphed,” I said.

  “In a word, yes.”

  “And how long did that last?”

  “Perhaps a half century.”

  I did the math, and saw the date in my mind. “That would be the end of the fourteen hundreds.”

  “Correct, Sam.”

  “Don’t say it,” I said, suddenly gasping.