Blood Crusade

by Billita Jacobsen

  “You can’t drive with a broken windshield,” Lance calmly announced. “We can take you home.”

  “No, thank you! I’m getting my daughter to a hospital,” I replied, searching his eyes for an answer to my dilemma.

  “You can’t go to a hospital. If they run blood tests on you and discover the truth that you are no longer human, someone will inform the vampire authorities and you’ll be hunted down and killed.”

  “Then I won’t let them check my blood. I just want some care for my daughter--to make sure she’s alright. I’ll call my husband from the hospital to pick us up.” Lance silently nodded.

  Percy sat in the back seat with Heather, trying to comfort her. Lance didn’t talk on the way to the hospital and although there were many unanswered questions, I didn’t dare voice them and worry my daughter. She’d been traumatized enough for one day.

  They dropped us off at the emergency entrance. “We must go back and take care of the body,” Lance said, “please call me soon.” I nodded in understanding as he handed me a business card, listing Camelot Farms on the tagline. His name, Lance duLake, co-founder, was listed with his phone number underneath. I would see him again, of that I was certain. I just wasn’t sure that I would be calling him.

  Sean arrived at the hospital, panic stricken and still sick. He looked worse than either one of us, stubble on his haggard face, wearing faded grey sweatpants, an old t-shirt with holes in it, and flip-flops. Heather had already had x-rays taken and been looked at by a doctor who pronounced that she was okay. Her pink princess dress was now torn, stained, and ready for the garbage. Sean hugged her so hard that she exclaimed, “Ouch, Daddy!”

  He then turned to me, crying, “I don’t know what I would do without you.” We walked out as a family but I feared that he would have to find out what he would do without me--a wife turned werewolf.

  Heather told him all about our misadventure. “The monster wanted to eat me, Daddy but the prince saved me and Mommy.”

  I shook my head at Sean. “Honey, you were sleeping when we had the accident. You were having a nightmare. It was only an animal that I almost hit, that’s all.”

  My daughter looked at me with distrust in her innocent eyes for the first time. “It’s not nice to tell lies, Mommy. Why don’t you tell Daddy the truth?”

  I couldn’t tell her that Daddy would think Mommy was crazy if he was told what really happened on that dark, desolate, country road. Or worse yet, he might believe it and go insane himself. I repeated the lie often enough in the next few weeks that it all seemed like it had just been a bad dream.

  So we lived like a normal family for a while and we were happy in our routines. I went to work, came home and made dinner, and cared for Heather. At night Sean and I made love. That serene oblivion all ended the day I was kidnapped.

  The sun was bright in the sky; a cool breeze was in the air, another perfect day. I was walking home from the corner grocery store after buying fresh vegetables to make a nice salad to go with the spaghetti Sean was making for dinner. A white van pulled up alongside me. A huge man who obviously had too much high fructose corn syrup in his diet, grabbed me and threw me in the back. Dropping my groceries, I was ready to scream but he gripped me tightly while the driver put duct tape over my mouth and handcuffed me.

  They drove along about 20 minutes before we hit a bumpy road. Although I was in the back of the van, getting jostled around, there was a somewhat hazy view of the road ahead. It was the type of road you never want to drive your car on—an unpaved mess, full of potholes, and dusty.

  They drove another 20 minutes, before arriving at a chain-link fenced area topped with barbed wire. The gates were open, and they pulled up to what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse.

  They brought me inside, still handcuffed and duct-taped, dragging me into the cavernous warehouse where broken glass bedecked the floor. Pigeons and bird poop were scattered everywhere, and a musty smell hung thickly in the air. They dragged me downstairs, into the worse conditions of the basement.

  My eyes quickly adjusted to the dark as they seemed to do with greater clarity lately. Percy was sitting on an old wooden chair in front of a metal door. “Hello, Nola,” he said, with all the smarminess of Jerry Seinfeld to Newman.

  The old, rusty metal door made a loud squeak as Lance opened it and said, “I’m sorry Nola, but this is for your own good. You’ll see.”

  Percy briskly walked behind me and roughly removed my handcuffs. I pulled the duct tape off my mouth. “I doubt that, you fucking psycho,” I said.

  Looking quite irritated, Percy pushed me past the metal door into a room that looked like a prison cell. There were shackles attached to the wall and Percy grabbed my hand and tried to attach the manacle. I began to fight him off with a fury.

  There was a video camera on a tripod pointed directly at the wall where the shackles were bolted. I punched and kicked Percy, and he yelled for the two men from the van to grab me. They shackled me to the wall and I began to scream.

  Lance carried the old wooden chair into the cell, and sat down in front of me. “Nola, I had hoped you would have contacted me before now. It's a full moon tonight. If we don't hold you here, you would kill someone…you understand?”

  I didn't comprehend anything. A piercing howl bounced off the prison walls and I realized it was emanating from me. A sharp, twisting pain penetrated the pit of my stomach and I began clawing at the air as if boxing with the oxygen. I felt I was losing myself.

  “It’s begun,” Percy said, “she’s changing.”

  “Turn on the video camera,” Lance said, although his voice sounded muffled. My ears felt like there was a strong wind blowing right through them. A burning sensation crept up my legs and my feet felt like they were on fire. And then I was gone.

  I awoke, still shackled, to find Lance gently brushing my hair. "Stop that, it's creepy," I said, pushing him away as far as my chained hands allowed. He had a bucket of water and a washcloth. He dipped his hands into the bucket with the washcloth, and tried to wipe my face. "Play the video," Lance calmly said to Percy who was hovering nearby in a corner.

  Percy brought the camera up to my face. Lance unshackled my hands. "Nola, please watch," Lance said. I watched in silent horror as the video proved that I would turn into a monster during a full moon. My body grew in furry spurts as I rolled around on the wall and ripped at the air when my claws and fangs appeared.

  "You can clearly see that you are not in control," Percy said "I would truly hate to see anything happen to that precious little girl because you're too stubborn to realize that everything has changed."

  “Percy, that’s enough,” Lance said, shooting him a stern glance. Turning to me, he gently whispered, “It’s over now and won’t happen again for another month. However, it would be better for you to leave with us now so you can settle in at Camelot.”

  "Just take me home," I said, resigned to my fate. "I need to prepare for this--I want one more week with my family."

  Lance began wiping the grime away from my face with the warm washcloth. He gently lifted my chin and looked deep into my eyes and said, "You’ll come with us then to Camelot?"

  "I would die for my family," I said, "the least I can do is leave them so they won't be harmed. And what the fuck and where the fuck is Camelot?”

  Percy voiced his disapproval of my obscenities, “Nice mouth, lady.”

  Lance gave him a silencing look. “Camelot is our farm. It offers serenity, Nola. You’ll like it there.”

  The big burly, fructose loving guy in the van gave me a ride home. He tried to strike up a conversation with me but I was in no mood for talking. He dropped me off a few blocks from my home and I slammed the door shut with the parting words "thanks for the kidnap ride, asshole."

  Being so disagreeable was a definite mistake. That guy made my life at Camelot miserable, telling everyone there that I was the biggest werewolf bitch on planet Earth. Unfortunately, being unpleasant is sometimes a necessity so your so
ul doesn’t explode.

  A police car was conspicuously parked outside the front of our home. Sean looked stunned when he saw me walk through the front door. "Nola, where in the hell have you been?"

  "I was lost, Sean."

  The police officer looked at Sean and said, "Well, I guess we don't have to fill out a missing persons form."

  Sean looked embarrassed. "You don't understand. She was in a car accident. I think her brain's been injured."

  Sean was on me for the next seven days, my last week at home, begging me to seek medical help. I never did answer his question of where I'd been. How could I?

  I spent the week trying to maintain a normal routine. I went to work and made a point of telling my friends that I was leaving Sean so he wouldn't be accused of murdering me after I went missing. None of them were too friendly with me after that.

  I composed a goodbye letter to leave to Sean and Heather and packed a small suitcase of clothes and family photos. My note told Sean that I still love my family very much but I had to go. We were married too young, I lied to him, and I wanted to find my own way in the world.

  Unfortunately, my plans to leave didn't go exactly as intended. I told Sean that I wasn't feeling well and that he should take Heather out for lunch. I would grab my suitcase, leave the note, and go meet Mr. High Corn Fructose on the corner.

  They had driven off, and I watched them go with tears in my eyes. I left the goodbye letter on the kitchen table, grabbed my purse and suitcase, and headed towards the door. I was reaching for the door handle when they walked back into the house.

  Sean just looked at me in disbelief, staring at the suitcase in my hand. "Mommy," Heather said, "we came back to see what you wanted to eat from the restaurant."

  "What's going on, Nola?" Sean asked as he walked to the kitchen table, grabbed my note, and began to read. "You're leaving us?

  This was exactly what I didn't want to happen. Heather began to sob, "Don’t go, Mommy! Don’t leave! I’ll be good!"

  Bending down to hug Heather, I whispered, “No honey, no, that’s not why Mommy has to go--you’re a good girl.”

  Trying to grab the suitcase from my hands, Sean commanded, "Nola, sit down. We need to talk about this."

  "You don't understand, Sean. I'm afraid I might hurt you or Heather, I have to leave to protect my family," I blurted out.

  Sean looked stunned. "Oh my God," he sobbed, putting his head in his hands, “It's worse than I thought, Nola, don't you see? You were severely injured in that car accident. We've got to get you to the hospital."

  My feet felt glued to the floor, I was completely immobilized, caught in the nightmare of emotionally wounding my family. “Fuck,” was the only word I could mutter.

  “You never used to swear like that. It all adds up--a brain injury is causing you to act like this. You’ve got to be brave, Nola, we can work this out.”

  His words jarred my feet loose. “No, Sean, we can’t. I have no choice. You and Heather will be better off without me.”

  My poor little girl began crying out again, "No mommy, no! Don't go, don't go!"

  Sean walked to the other side of the room, picked up the phone and began to call someone. This was my chance to give Heather an explanation. I picked her up and whispered into her ear, "Heather, you were right, I’m sorry about lying to Daddy. There was a monster that night. He bit me Heather, and I'll become what he was. Do you understand, baby girl? I can't tell Daddy what really happened but you need to know. Mommy has to leave because she'll become a monster."

  We held each other tightly, and I began to cry. “It's okay mommy, don’t cry,” Heather gently said to me, “You can go. I’ll always love you Mommy, even when you’re a scary monster.”

  “I love you too, baby girl. Take care of Daddy and don’t talk about the monster. It’s better if Daddy doesn’t know,” I said, gently placing Heather on the floor so I could leave. I walked out our once welcoming front door for the last time.

  A police car was pulling into the driveway as I stepped off the porch. I was rather relieved to see the officer as it gave me an opportunity to explain that as an adult, I was leaving my family on my own volition and never coming back. It was the same officer who had been at the house filling out the missing person report. He looked at me with complete disgust and turned and walked up to Sean. “I’m sorry sir. You have to let her go,” he said with a grain of sympathy in his voice, “I’ll make out a report for you, it might help in the divorce.” Secure in the knowledge that Sean would never be accused of any wrongdoing due to my disappearance, I headed towards the white van waiting for me at the corner.

  "If you go Nola, without seeking help, don't ever come back,” Sean said to me, holding Heather in his arms, his eyes now dry and filled with hate. I walked to the corner, quickly, his words stinging my ears, into the white van that would bring me to Camelot. Mr. High Corn Fructose and I never said a word to each other on the journey and it was a 22 hour ride full of regret and tears.

  I went back home from time to time, visiting from afar just to catch a glimpse of them, until the year I went back to discover that they moved and left no forwarding address. I’ve been searching for Heather ever since.

  Chapter 2: What Happens In Vegas

  In eighteen years of working for Lance, hunting down those who prey on humans, I’ve learned one important rule--never play poker with a vampire. Even if you win, you lose. Vampires pride themselves on being superior to humans. They’re faster, stronger, and usually smarter. After all, they’ve had hundreds, sometimes thousands of years to learn. And they are notorious sore losers. Yet here I am on assignment, forced to play poker with a possible rogue vampire at the table.

  There’s no tastier buffet in Las Vegas for a vampire than feasting on the poker players who walked away from the table with their chips. Only a masterful player can continually beat a vampire. I’ve seen the remains of a few of these poker experts. These “winners” died in agony.

  “Up’ta you,” the poker player to my right mumbled, tugging on his hat. He was a cab driver, he told everyone, playing with his tips.

  “I fold,” I said, throwing in my cards, a two of clubs and three of hearts.

  Playing Texas Hold’Em was just a ruse anyway, winning wasn’t my objective. My main purpose was trolling for any rogue vampires in the poker room. I pulled the compact out of my purse to powder my nose, pushing my blond hair away from my face. I was dressed as vampire bait, wearing red lipstick and matching, low-cut red blouse. The mascara was layered on and my blue eyes stood out. I wore my dangling gold earrings. No silver--that would only repel a vampire. Lance wanted me to find the vampire, or vampires, responsible for women who had gone missing and were last seen in a Vegas poker room. No bodies had turned up yet but fifty missing females was a concern.

  My usual attire was jeans and t-shirt but male vampires seem to enjoy punishing women for what they wear, so I was in my sexy gear, waiting to be taught a lesson. You’d think that after living hundreds of years they wouldn’t be so chauvinistic.

  I turned the mirror, slowly looking at the people behind me in the casino. I turned around to case the room and looked back in the mirror to see if anyone did not cast a reflection. There were no vampires behind me but I wasn’t sure about the players in front of me.

  “Up’ta you,” Cabbie said again, this time to the guy with sunglasses and red spider and green dragon tattoos on his neck. A two of spades, ace of diamonds, and three of clubs sat on the table as community cards. Guess I folded too soon.

  Mr. Sunglasses was wearing headphones. He nodded his head to the music only he could hear and folded too.

  Mr. Toothpick, the player in a green t-shirt who kept flipping the toothpick he dangled from his mouth, was in. The sweet-looking lady with kind eyes, who wore a “Proud Grandma” cap, raised the hand.

  Poker is a fascinating game. The cards don’t discriminate. A hard-core vampire can be beat by a neophyte player all on the flop of the cards. Destiny can be
determined in a card game. People can walk away with the kind of money that can change their life or lose the kind of money that can end their lifestyle. Or they can run into a vampire and lose their very life.

  “Up’ta you,” Cabbie said, prodding the pudgy guy in the Hawaiian shirt sitting next to me. I glanced at him. He was looking at my cleavage. “It’s up to you,” I said sharply. He smiled and said, “If it’s up to me baby, you know we’re heading to my room.”

  “Just play the cards,” said the dashing man with the English accent at the opposite end of the table. He had a Vegas tan and sharp, piercing brown eyes. His dark hair kept falling on his forehead and he’d casually brush it aside. He stood out among all the players in the poker room. He wore a classic Caraceni $5,000 suit, no doubt purchased in Milan. His cologne, Green Irish Tweed, was quite alluring. He reminded me of Sean Connery in the first James Bond movie. I disliked him intensely.

  The pudgy moron wasn’t a vampire. It was lust shining in his eyes, not hunger for blood. Besides, the chain he wore on his neck was silver--he’d be writhing in pain if he was a bloodsucker.

  However, any one of the other players could be a vampire. While some vampires just ooze evil through their pores and have yellow blood-shot eyes to match their yellow fangs, most people wouldn’t recognize the average vampire. It’s kind of like the serial killer who lives next door. “Why that guy was always friendly--I just can’t believe he murdered twenty people and ate their brains,” you’d hear neighbors state on the six o’clock news.

  There are plenty of ruthless vampires, to be sure, but they were ruthless people when they were human. The personality traits carry over. For all I knew, the sweet Grandma in the cap could be the rogue vampire who needed killing.

  Las Vegas is the perfect place to search for rogues. Vampires love Vegas. Actually, it was built for them. The vampire elite created a city where they could easily find prey and be entertained. They can dine 24/7; their “fun” never stops. And nobody would suspect vampires in a city where the sun could scorch hot tamale.