by R. G. Nelson
“Adam, I understand from Hamad that you completed your initiation,” Joseph says.
I nod slightly. Then decide to add, “Yes,” as I sense Joseph instilling an air of formality in his presentation of the medallion.
“Well, congratulations. You have earned this, then,” he says. He ceremoniously hands it over to me while Hamad, Jesús and Mike clap politely. I shake his hand firmly and am amazed by the strength that I feel in his grip. Still clasping my hand, Joseph locks his eyes on mine, “I trust you've been filled in on the meaning?”
“I have,” I say, trying to return his gaze with confidence.
“Good–then wear it with pride. We don't take just any human into our family. True, your path to membership was unorthodox, but you have proven yourself worthy of being a Vampirist.” He finally lets my hand go and appears to relax. He even gives a small smile. “So, what is it you Americans say? Keep up the good work.”
Somehow that feels like more of an order than when humans say it. And why is it that even though he just welcomed me into the fold, I still feel like he is evaluating me?
Hamad clears his throat and then speaks up. “Is there any update on the body he dropped?”
“I have Sgt. Johnson looking into it. He says homicide was all set to treat it as a typical robbery before that same Special Agent butted in. Apparently, he was attracted by the coroner’s report noting the lack of blood inside the body and at the scene. But not to worry, Sgt. Johnson is going to plant some seeds that it was the work of the occult or a similar group that uses human blood for their rituals.”
Jesús interjects, “Man, if that FBI guy is so nosy, why don’t we just remove him?”
I have a sickening feeling that I know who the Special Agent is. And I hope that I won’t be tasked with taking him out. Actually, I hope no one will take him out. Then again, he seems to be on to us, and we can’t have the government finding out what we really are.
“Or maybe we could turn him?” I suddenly suggest. “You know, bring him to our side?”
“It’s a little hasty for both. We can’t just turn people until we are sure they will cooperate with us. And we can’t remove every government official that asks questions that alarm us,” Joseph explains. “For now, the situation is contained. We’ll keep an eye on him, and if he becomes more of a problem, we’ll deal with it.”
The icy tone of his last sentence seems to load it with sinister implications.
13)
Sometime later I find myself staffed to the unusual task of what they call hospital duty. I expected it to be related to stealing blood, but apparently it’s a totally different assignment. We even had to raid the militia’s wardrobe to dress up. No bloodshirts tonight, only stiff collars, ties, and super 130 wool pressing delicately against my skin. Mike and I are together tonight, but he somehow manages to convince Laney to come along, probably just so that she can see him in a suit. I think he has been making solid progress there, but with Laney it’s hard to tell.
As we walk down the long, fluorescent-lit hallways of the hospital, I can’t feel a lot of warmth between them. Perhaps my perception is colored by the environment: This hospital, like many others, seems extremely frigid and sterile. Hardly the place for a blossoming romance. I don’t get the sense that Laney is crazy into Mike, but she does seem to be by his side a lot. I’ve tried to get some inside info for Mike from Vera, but she gets very cagey and dodges my questions like a pro.
I’m pretty sure that there aren’t tons of dating choices in the vampire community: We’re bigger than I expected, but on an absolute scale our numbers are still comparatively pretty small. And we’re spread out. So maybe Laney is just slowly settling for what she sees as her best option or something. On the plus side for Mike, he certainly has the time to wear her down. Neither one of them is going to age much anytime soon!
I actually quite like Mike. He’s been the one in the cell that I feel closest to. He was the nicest initially, and that has carried over into me feeling I can relax more around him and not work so hard to prove myself all the time. So I don’t need to pretend like I understand what we’re doing tonight.
When we round a corner and enter a particularly long and empty hallway, I ask him bluntly, “What are we up to here exactly? What’s the assignment?”
“It’s not a traditional one,” Mike says. “It’s more like reconnaissance.”
I must look confused because he continues, “We have a nurse on the night shift who keeps an eye out for potential targets for us. We meet with her and check out the people she identifies. We sort of vet them … make sure they’d be down to play ball.”
“Targets? For what?”
“You know we need money to support ourselves. There are some very sick people out there that would pay a lot for a magical cure. Or a lot more for a chance at immortality.”
“You mean we turn people into vampires for money?” I ask incredulously.
“Well, yeah,” Mike says, surprised by my surprise. “People have been turned for a lot worse reasons.”
Laney adds, “But we don’t turn that many people. Most aren’t a good fit: They have too many family members or close friends that they can’t walk away from. Or they aren’t reliable enough for us to trust to keep our secret.”
“That’s where we come in. That’s what we help figure out,” Mike explains. “We need answers to tough questions and by enthralling them we can get to the truth. Most of the people we meet tonight will just end up paying for what they think is some experimental drug secretly administered by our contact here.”
“Vampire blood,” I say. I’ve seen its healing power first hand.
“Exactly. In low doses administered over time, it can cure a variety of human ailments without turning them into us,” Mike confirms. “And they’ll only remember what we want them to from our conversations.”
“How much do we charge?” I ask.
Laney laughs. “A lot. Have you heard of supply and demand? Well, we control all the supply and know they need it badly. We set our price based off how much money each of these one-percenters actually has.”
“And, of course, to be turned they have to cede all their holdings to the Vampirists, though we let them continue to live their lifestyle and hold their jobs for a while if it suits us. We’ve gotten a lot of our best-positioned converts this way. Politicians, business leaders and such,” Mike says with pride.
It seems like a good system, but I don’t understand why we even need to turn them or give them anything. “Why can’t we just enthrall them to give us their money and then forget about it?” I ask.
Mike stops to consider this. But Laney instantly speaks up with an answer, “A long time ago, we used to be able to do that. But then humans started keeping better track of their money. And now, with so much done electronically, it’s very risky. The same types of people who have enough money to attract our attention are the types who can raise hell and involve unwanted authorities when they discover it missing. And for the same reason, we can’t just make them disappear either. This new way is just cleaner all around.”
“And it helps build our network, too,” I say, now seeing the merits of this system with appreciation. Once we have a good network in place and access to all those secrets, there’d be no end to how much money we could make.
“Look, visiting hours are long over. Let’s hurry and find our nurse,” Mike interjects. Then he smiles and adds, “And if anyone says anything to us, just politely enthrall them and get them to go away.”
* * *
A short time later we sit on the subway discussing the “potentials” we met earlier on. It was a productive night. The hospital is one of the nicer, fancier ones in the city, so the
re is no shortage of wealthy patients who fly in from across the country to seek treatment there. The nurse did most of the talking, and we just stood by pretending to be pharma reps or whatever she introduced us as. Once or twice, the patients seemed to be sketched out by our pitch, so we had to wipe their memory clean of the whole thing.
But fortunately, we met several people tonight suffering from lung cancer who were interested in our new, experimental drug. Mike told me later this is just vaporized vampire blood that when inhaled can cure cancer in lungs over time. Not bad. We also had someone with one of those new infections that don’t seem to respond to existing antibiotics. Apparently vampire blood can fix that right up–Laney and Mike were pretty optimistic about that … a one-dose fixer-upper.
So we chat away contentedly on the train, enjoying the privacy of the practically empty car. The cops have jumped on and off already (the increased police presence due to Movement activities apparently even extends to down here), and the few remaining humans are sitting on the far side from us. I smile inside and watch as Mike makes sure to touch Laney every so often while he makes his animated points. He tries to do it nonchalantly and make it seem natural, but I know that he is planning it out. I also notice that Laney notices, as well, but she doesn’t stop him or draw away. Maybe he is getting closer to his goal, after all.
I’m so busy noticing the situation between Mike and Laney that I almost don’t notice it when they get on. I’ve barely paid much attention to humans recently unless I needed to. As a vampire, you don’t have to watch out constantly for who is around you or worry about being robbed. But something just bothers me at a subconscious level and rapidly works its way up to give me a conscious alarm. Without wanting to look over at them yet, I try to figure out what it is. For one thing, there’s a stench of filth so strong that even humans must be able to notice it.
I see Mike and Laney have both immediately picked up on it as well. Mike catches my eyes and gives a subtle nod in their direction. Turning slightly so that his back is to them, he opens his mouth and flicks his fangs in and out. I get his meaning. Vampires. But not ours. I don’t recognize them, and from their alarm I gather that neither do Mike or Laney. I also gather that this isn’t good. I realize now what was eating at my subconscious: the lack of a human smell, the lack of heartbeats … the lack of anything that would indicate that these beings are prey. And if something isn’t prey, my body apparently goes on the alarm.
I venture over a quick look, trying to be stealthy about it. There is no point. They are staring at us. There are two of them, both male. They don’t seem to be afraid of us. In fact, their stares are almost aggressive. No, definitely aggressive. I stare back. We outnumber them, three to two, though I actually have no idea if Laney can really fight. As if to mirror our tension, the train begins to screech loudly on the track. On my periphery, I see the flicker of sparks flying outside the window as the car grates roughly against the rails below.
I break off from my returning gaze and give a snicker as though I just don’t care to continue any more, and not that I’m backing down. But really I want to look over to see what Mike and Laney are doing.
Mike catches my eyes, and I see that he is also deciding how to respond. He shrugs his shoulders and says, “Just be cool. Big enough train. No reason to cause a scene with humans nearby.” He says it softly, but I know he means for the others to hear it.
I see the two look at each other. One gives a smug smile. I don’t know how else to describe it, but he just looks evil. His hair appears greasy–it’s half slicked back and half wild. He has a tattered black trench coat on, and I see similarly colored garments below that. His boots are big and black and have seen better days. I’d almost describe his look as goth-ish, but he just seems a little more feral–as though he chose this outfit not to make a fashion statement, but the better to survive the streets … to blend into the night. And then he wore it for a very long time.
His buddy is dressed similarly; it has a spooky effect with the way it clashes against his chalky black skin. But I get the sense that he is the younger of the two from the way he seems to defer to the first. The white of his eyes stands out from his face, and so too, do his pearl-colored teeth as he returns the smile of the first.
A low, mocking hiss cuts across the car. I trace its origins to the first vampire, the evil-looking one. “Since when have vampires been concerned with what humans think? I could tear these people to unrecognizable shreds before we hit the next station. Or have you blood baggers forgotten what it truly means to be a vampire?”
I feel my temper begin to rise, but I can see from Mike and Laney’s tension that I probably shouldn’t provoke our rivals. I decide that this is a situation where I should let Mike take the lead.
“We know what it means to be vampires. And we’ll show the world that one day. But not yet,” Mike returns in the same super-low tone, un-hearable by humans.
“Ah, yes. Your Movement and its endless schemes,” says the first again. The second vampire’s teeth glisten as he chuckles along. The first vampire appears to take in Laney. He looks her up and down. “I’ll give you this, though. The Movement has cute little girlie vampires. She might make our master a good pet.”
The second one licks his lips and joins in, “Maybe. But this one looks almost good enough to eat.” They both laugh, but there is cold, hard malice in their tone.
Mike bristles at the barely veiled threat to Laney. He’s poised for action on the edge of his seat. I assume the same position and wait for the subtle cue to spring into battle. I don’t have a silver stake on me, but in training we’ve covered other ways to kill vampires. Mostly they are pretty gory.
Laney’s cooler head prevails. She puts a restraining hand on Mike. “Wait. We’d have to deal with all the humans, too. We don’t need that kind of exposure right now.” I see Mike consider her advice, and his rage begins to subside a bit. “Let’s just go,” Laney advises.
Indeed, I can feel the train begin to slow, indicating that another stop is fast approaching. I look at the other end of the car where the few humans sit, oblivious to the deadly tension filling our side. One woman looks like some kind of tired mother on her way back from a night shift. She is half dozing while cautiously clutching a purse tightly. Another man seems to be riding the lines to pass the night. I can smell liquor reeking out of his pores. Kind of reminds me of my dad. Neither deserves to be collateral damage tonight. There is no reason for this to be the night that they die.
“Mike, she’s right. Let’s just get off,” I say as the train halts.
The doors pop open. Laney grabs Mike and half-drags him off the car. He never turns his back on the others. Neither do I. They seem like they’d send us to the neverend without thinking twice about it. They just watch us go, wearing smirks that could give Hamad a run for his money. Just before the doors close, the first one gives Laney a wink. It seems to be more a promise than a gesture, and it isn’t friendly.
We hustle outside and I head for a bus, but Mike suggests that we take the rooftops. I agree; it seems he needs to blow off some steam–suits be damned. We put our powers and speed to the test and blur across the city. Several zip codes away, we pause on the edge of a particularly high office building and look out over the city. It is chilly up here, but of course that doesn’t bother us.
Still, Laney snuggles gently against Mike. He wraps an arm around her and begins to vent. “I hate those classics. They think they’re so superior just because they live in the old style. But really, they’re just outdated.” He tapers off and we sit in silence, both Laney and I sensing that there is more to come. There is. “They should be extinct,” he adds with a hard edge to his tone that is somewhat uncharacteristic for him.
I see how much it bothers him. I can understand his desire to protect someone he cares about. If th
ey had threatened Vera …. “We’ll get Hamad and Jesús and find them. We can deal with them,” I say reassuringly. “They won’t have a chance to hurt Laney.”
“Yeah, exactly,” he says. But I feel that he is in his own thoughts.
Laney notices, too. “Mike, what’s up?” she asks. “They’re just some punks. Don’t let it get to you. Those types live in sewers and prowl subways and back alleys. They are bottom feeders. The only thing they’re good for is keeping the homeless population low.”
Mike looks at Laney for a long moment and kisses her forehead affectionately. She lets him. I look away, not wanting to intrude on their moment. But Mike breaks the silence.
“I know; it’s no real life. There’s no point in being a vampire if your nights are spent like that.” He sighs before continuing. “I was made by classic vampires like them almost forty years ago. They didn’t ask me–there was no recruitment process. One moment I was living my life in Kansas, surrounded by friends and dreaming of playing major league ball, and the next, I’m plunged into darkness, forced into sleeping in rank, dirty holes with only three ogre-ish classics for company.”
I can see his pain. Even these years later, I know that he can still feel the frustration of having been ripped from his life and forced into this dark one. Maybe that’s why he was relatively easier on me, because in a way I didn’t have much of a choice either.
“How’d you get away? How’d you end up in the Movement–er … the Militia?” I ask.
Mike smiles and chuckles. “Simple. One night I picked a direction and ran in it. Super-fast. And I didn’t stop. Eventually I ended up in a big city, and the Vampirists found me. I’ve been with them ever since.”
“And we’re glad to have you,” Laney says reassuringly. She gives his hand a gentle squeeze. That seems to break through his reverie and snap him back to the present. He looks up, almost sheepishly.