The kitchen alarm went off. “It’s ready!” the Professor exclaimed, as if he were baking cookies. Glancing at me in my distress, he declared, “I thought it wise to make colloidal silver.”
Surveying the mess that nobody would clean but me, I couldn’t hide my frustration, “Wise? Wise? It seems pretty stupid to have something so harmful to Alexander in our house!”
Fructose wiped the chocolate off his mouth with the back of his hand and shot me a disapproving look. Harold looked forlorn, “I just want to help, Nola. We could put some in Robin’s bottle and it will protect her. As long as we don’t consume it, we’re safe, but we can protect humans we know with it. Also, there are plenty of things you have to watch out for when you have babies around. We keep a good eye on Alexander—we won’t let him near it.”
They had been busy shoppers while I was out fighting zombies. A large playpen was set up in the open concept living room, in view from the kitchen that was now the Professor’s workshop. The Mad Max of dogs, Go-Go, ran back and forth, stopping in front of Fructose for a petting and growling at me as he ran back. He made the mistake of running into the bedroom and I quickly shut the door. “Fuck that dog,” I whispered, tired of the nasty growling.
The dog bounced against the door a bit but the Professor and Fructose didn’t notice. The Professor was occupied mixing vials and pouring colloidal silver into small, blue bottles. He was working on my brown-speckled granite island, heavily engrossed in his task, his eyes shining with purpose. His sense of commitment gave him an attractive glow, and helped him forget his many troubles, so I shook off my sense of frustration. Who was I to rain on his colloidal silver parade?
Fructose kept muttering stupid ideas. “We could fill squirt guns with it,” he said, to no one in particular, “or even better—super soakers!” He looked around the room for approval; he would get none from me. I frowned disapprovingly. Nonplussed, he looking to the Professor, “or water balloons!”
Harold smiled, giving him the appreciation he needed for his ludicrous notions and said, “Good ideas, Otis, very good ideas. People could protect themselves from any nefarious vampires.”
Fructose grinned and walked to the playpen, carrying a stuffed animal. He knelt down and handed it to Robin. I went to the fridge to see if they bought some wine or beer while they were out and about. We were caught completely by surprise when they burst through the front door.
There were six of them, brandishing guns, daggers, and crosses. “Don’t move!” A bearded, older man, wearing a Matrix-style, soiled trench coat, exclaimed.
“Fuck, now what?” I choked out, trying to think. Should I turn werewolf and dispatch them? No, better to find out why they so rudely smashed into my house and keep the element of surprise on my side.
The Professor dropped the vial of colloidal silver he was holding and it crashed onto the travertine tile, shattering on the kitchen floor. I surmised that its toxic properties to vampires and werewolves would pose a bigger danger than this group of clowns. I was wrong, as usual.
Fructose foolishly made a play, dashing at the group and taking down two of the women. Three of the men piled on him, beating him down with fury. They repeatedly punched him in the face and stomach, leaving me no choice—werewolf it is. Tingling with anticipation, it would take only a second to be on them.
My hesitation proved to be fortuitous. “Stand down,” the one in charge ordered. “He’s obviously not a vampire; he doesn’t have the power.” They immediately obeyed. Otis sat up, leaning his body against the wall, blood trickling from his nose.
Squinting his eyes, the leader peered towards the playpen, and said, “Obviously these children aren’t vampires either. What about the two of you? We were told we’d find a clan here.”
Moving closer to Harold, I announced, “No, we’re not vampires, you morons. You might take notice that we’re making colloidal silver to fight the vampires,” as if it were my idea. “You’re not too bright for vampire hunters, are you?” Correctly surmising that this small group of jokers were part of the small clan of hunters remaining in the world. We would all be doomed if they were the only ones protecting humanity.
“Show some respect!” An attractive, older woman with the stark appearance of a hard fighter yelled, spittle flying from her mouth onto the silver ankh around her neck. “You’re in the presence of Magnus, a son of Strabo, the grand leader of the Order of the Pyramids!”
Magnus held his head up, quite proud of the recognition. “I'm well aware of the order and kudos to you. I just wasn’t aware that you attacked other hunters,” I explained.
Magnus approached and his battle scars became clear, a large scar accented his left eye and his neck bore the teeth marks from a vanquished vampire. The silver ankh around his neck was shining from the glow of the kitchen pendant lights. They all wore silver ankhs, a little added protection from a vampire’s bite. “So, you’re vampire hunters? Hunters aren’t usually accompanied by babies,” he said, continuing while looking at Otis, “or fools.”
“They are orphans,” I replied, “their parents were murdered by Emperor Claudius. Why don’t you go attack him? Or is breaking into homes of fellow hunters more your style?”
The older woman gasped, loudly. Apparently, Magnus wasn’t often shown such disrespect. Wait until I verbalized what an asshole I thought he was.
Magnus came as close as possible to me without actually touching. He would be surprised to find himself so close to a werewolf, I surmised. There would quickly be six dead hunters in my rental if they left me no choice. Instead, he surprised me by smiling.
“I do apologize but usually our intel is good. It’s clear from our situation that you are either fellow hunters or you may be sheltering vampires.” Nodding to his ragtag group, he announced, “Search every room.” Addressing me, he said, “We must be sure. We show no mercy to those who harbor vampires.”
Looking at the playpen, where little Alexander was slowly rising into a hover; it was obvious they wouldn’t have to look very far. He was floating, ever so slowly, as if he was playing a game. Adding to that distraction, the little monster Go- Go was flying and banging against the bedroom door, trying to get out. I had to attract attention to myself, so I began shouting, “Sun God Ra, we vow to fight darkness, Light might still be allowed! As brothers and sisters, we lay down our lives, Yea, so humanity may still survive!”
All eyes were now on me. Raising my arms to the ceiling and signaling with my eyes to the Professor to look at the playpen, I continued the chant. Thankfully, he was quick to catch on. He edged himself to the playpen to pick up and hold Alexander before the baby floated higher in the air, giving us away. “Vanquish chaos and form order, As the pyramids rise, May good Queen Cleopatra’s spirit stay alive!”
Like all good cults, they followed my lead, chanting along, “Pursue and vanquish those, Intending to destroy the light, Righteousness is ours, Eternal, everlasting life that is pure in death, Sun God Ra, this is our quest!”
“Slay vampires!” the older woman shouted. They formed a tight group around each other, the words holding deep significance for them. It was easy to understand, like Lance’s oath, like prayers uttered, the words gave their life meaning. Their attention had been diverted and Alexander was now safe, held tightly in Harold’s arms.
“You’re familiar with the Order. How is that?” Magnus asked, after a moment of silence. They were calm now, two motley women and four men, a clan of hunters that seemed poorly matched against true vampires.
“That doesn’t matter,” I said, using my sweetest tone of voice, “let’s just say I’m a true believer. Here’s what you really need to know… Claudius and his killer vamps are planning to murder half the population with a zombie virus to gain complete control of humanity.”
Pulling a map of Las Vegas out of my Stella McCartney oversized purse, I unfolded it and pointed to their location. “I don’t know if they’re still here, but this is where you can find the real vampire lair.”
“I see,” Magnus said, “and the information is appreciated but I still need to search the house.”
They fanned out, looking for vampires. One of the women hesitated by the bedroom door due to the loud thumping and growling coming from Go-Go. The Professor was already holding Alexander to prevent him from hovering, leaving him helpless to retrieve the dog. “Please,” he pleaded with Magnus, “don’t hurt my dog!”
I had no choice but to offer to get the stupid canine. “Look, it’s just a little dog banging against the door, let me get him and then you can go in the bedroom to search.”
Nodding his approval, Magnus stated, “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt the dog.” Motioning to me he said, “Go ahead. I like dogs better than I like people, no harm will come to a dog while I’m around. Is that understood?” He looked around at his people. They all nodded their awareness although the older woman rolled her eyes in exasperation.
As hesitant to open the door as the vampire hunter, I slowly squeezed the handle and quickly scooped the little monster into my arms. “Go-Go…behave!” the Professor ordered.
Amazingly, Go-Go did as commanded, stifling his growls and letting me hold him. Magnus approached, scratching him under the chin and muttering, “Cute little dog.” Go-Go could have blown our cover but licked the hand of the hunter instead. I vowed to be nicer to that jerk of a dog in the future for protecting us by acting like a normal canine.
“So, where did you get the bad intel?” I asked in my friendliest tone.
“A captured vampire in Vegas…and her sister,” Magnus answered.
A feeling of dread hit the pit of my stomach. He could only be speaking about Michelle and Annie. Michelle knew I was a fierce warrior so she must have risked betraying us to save Annie.
“So you let a vampire loose because you were directed to this house?” I asked, wanting to know what happened to Annie.
“No, we never let a vampire loose, no matter what. She was put to death.”
“And her sister?” I risked asking too much; I had to know.
“Her sister was released; she wasn’t a vampire.”
Poor Michelle, she and Annie had worked so hard to cope with hardship. Michelle had given us up and still had to watch Annie be killed. How horrible that must have been for her to endure.
I had to shake off my feeling of grief since my little family still needed to get out of this dangerous situation. Magnus wouldn’t hesitate to kill Alexander if he discovered that the baby was a vampire.
“The rest of the house is clear,” one of the motley crew announced.
“My apologies,” Magnus said, bowing. “We do need to take the colloidal silver, you understand. We can make good use of it in our war against the vampires. It seems you are quite capable of making more.”
“Be my guest,” the Professor said, “and good luck killing Claudius.”
The younger woman bent down, gently wiping blood from Otis’ face and kissing him gently on the cheek. “I’m so sorry. Perhaps we’ll meet again and I can make it up to you.”
“Good luck to you,” Magnus whispered and they were gone, as quickly as they had broken in, leaving me with a broken front door and an unsafe hideaway.
Turning to the Professor and Otis, I barked, “We’re not safe here anymore. Pack a bag of clothes, quickly, we need to leave now. If those idiots found us, Claudius won’t be far behind.”
“My equipment,” the Professor lamented, “we have to bring it with.”
“It’s not possible,” I said, “we’ve run out of time.”
“Where will we go?” he asked, putting bars of silver in his pocket, with sadness in his eyes.
“The only place that offers us safety. We need to get to Lance’s estate, as soon as possible.”
Chapter 16: Good Knights in a Bad Place
Driving to the final gate leading to Lance’s estate was like steering through the gates of hell where one needed ancient mystical knowledge to enter the portal leading to the underworld. I simply waited for someone in the car behind me to provide access since I forgot the key code to the gate that gave a veil of protection to the upscale development. Everyone gives gate codes to service people or friends. Who wants to have pizza delivery, or a friend, delayed? So someone with a code, or with a remote and in a hurry, always opens the entrance without acting like the gate police.
I drove up to the final, private entrance leading to Lance’s estate with my tail tucked between my legs. Well, not literally my werewolf tail, but my human metaphorical tail. It wasn’t often that one received an invitation to the estate and I was often aware when Lance and I were in Vegas at the same time that my coveted invitation was not coming. I pressed the intercom button and waited, uninvited. Again.
“Yes, can I help you?” Came the question, statically through the box.
“It’s Nola, let me in, I need to speak to Lance,” I demanded.
“Lance isn’t available. He’s in a meeting,” the voice meekly answered.
“Motherfucker, you better let me in!” The Professor shot me a disapproving look.
The gate slowly swung open. “Oh,” the Professor said, “very good.”
Lance’s circular brick driveway was filled with cars. I carried Robin and Alexander while the Professor helped the badly beaten Otis, with a barking Go-Go tucked under one arm.
A nondescript human helper opened the door, one of many comprising Lance’s entourage. “There’s a Knights of the Roundtable meeting. You can’t disturb him,” she said, “You know that’s not allowed, they have never been interrupted. They meet on important and dire matters. ”
“Would you mind babysitting?” I asked, handing her Robin and Alexander, not waiting
for an answer and ignoring her declaration. She obeyed without question. I walked to the entry leading to Lance’s conference suite and opened the door, unannounced. Seated around the enormous round table, a copy of the magnificent original version at Camelot, the knights glanced in my direction but didn’t seem too upset at my disruption. There really isn’t much that fazes them; they’ve seen it all.
“Hello Nola!” boomed Sir Sam Tenkamenin, former King of Ghana in 1037 A.D. He gave himself the nickname Sam to honor a horse he cherished, the original Sam who had perished in a battle long ago. Sam was tall, even sitting at the table he loomed over the rest of the knights. I found him incredibly handsome, with flawless dark skin and welcoming brown eyes that beamed approachability. Sam was one of those rare good-looking men who don’t seem aware of how attractive they are; he was strangely down to earth for a former African King.
He wore a simple white linen shirt adorned with a heavy gold necklace worth a fortune, an artifact from his ruling days, when Ghana was the Kingdom of Gold. The gold chain held a pendant adorned with jewels and carvings of camels; it might have looked silly or tacky on someone else but Sam carried it off with dignity. King Tenkamenin was one of the old school knights, a member for ages, after Lance rescued him when Sam’s kingdom fell. Like most of the knights, he was an accidental vampire, turned after battle and inadvertently consuming tainted blood.
“Hello Sam,” I said smiling. “Listen, you all need to know that hunters are in Vegas. We were just attacked at our safe house. They could have killed Alexander,” I explained, dismissing the fact that I almost dispatched the infant myself.
Sam had a genuine look of concern, “Nola, are you alright?” I nodded. Sam was one of the first to befriend me at Camelot. Initially, I believed he was hitting on me. Then I got to know him and realized he wanted nothing in return for his friendship.
Not as welcoming, but nodding recognition in my direction, was Lady Makeda, once the Queen of Sheba, and one of the first female knights, who questioned, “Who is Alexander?” Like Cleopatra, she was an ancient beauty who defied the status quo and ruled in spite of men. Makeda was so old that she’d been mentioned in the Old Testament, information I would never bring up in her presence.
Makeda emanates a regal presence. She sat at the
table comfortably upright with perfect posture and surveyed the room with commanding hazel eyes. Her upswept black hair seemed symmetrical with the beautiful exotic, upswept shape of her eyes and perfectly arched eyebrows. Her only jewelry was a pair of dangling emerald earrings surrounded by small, sparkling diamonds. Her brilliant green dress matched perfectly and provided just the right contrast against her lovely brown skin. She had my respect for being the woman who questioned King Solomon and tested his knowledge.
Makeda refused to talk about her past at any of our gatherings at Camelot so my curiosity about her heritage, wondering if she was Persian or Asian mixed with African, would never be uncovered. I’ve often wanted to question her about her visit with King Solomon and being the Queen of Ethiopia, especially after consuming a few glasses of wine, but any nosiness about her history produced only a smoky silence and hazel eyes that blazed like a forest fire ravaging the hills of Arizona. If anyone knew how she’d been turned vampire they weren’t telling. I guess I wouldn’t tell either, somehow you sensed that you didn’t want to incur the rage of this strong woman who had been so maligned by history. Instead of tales of her bravery, stories are related about Solomon disapproving of her hairy “goat” legs.
“It’s a long story,” I said, in answer to her question about Alexander.
“In any case, we need to get the word out to steer clear of the hunters,” she announced. Everyone at the table nodded in agreement.
Hidden from history was the knowledge that the Knights of the Round Table were equally represented by gender with six men and six women fighting for the common good. Members have been lost throughout the passage of time; every knight missing was mourned and then replaced when a worthy soul was found. All had proven themselves to possess honor, loyalty, and empathy.
Most of the original Knights of the Round Table were long dead, lost in the Vampire War and Werewolf Battles. Only four remained of the original twelve-- Lancelot, his sons—Percy and Galahad, and The Master. It was The Master who had trained and guided me in my werewolf journey and taught me how to control the beast within. They were the only survivors of the twelve knights who tried to show the world a better way to live and started the Camelot Crusade, a guidance system for a peaceful planet.
Blood Crusade Page 19