Blood Crusade

by Billita Jacobsen

  “Of course I liked him. I adore dogs. Why wouldn’t I like him?” he asked, looking at me quizzically.

  “He was kind of mean you know. He was always trying to bite me,” I said, “but I’m still sorry he was killed.

  He laughed and stopped suddenly, perhaps thinking it wasn’t appropriate or perhaps due to the dirty look I shot him.

  The tunnel was empty—void of human or vampire occupancy. “Claudius was never here,” Mark said after our search, “and honestly, I don’t think he’s hiding in any of the tunnels, it’s not his style.”

  I stopped to sadly look at the cardboard castle, still propped against the dank tunnel wall. “How can we allow such poverty to exist?” I lamented.

  Mark sat on the pallet that served as a couch. “Sit. Let me explain something to you,” he said, kindly.

  Uncomfortable in the dirty surroundings, I did as he asked, even though I wanted to get back to Lance’s estate and take a nice long shower.

  “There’s something I’ve learned in my many ages of living,” he said. “If you are with the people you love, habitats don’t matter. That family had each other. They were really quite well-off.” He cupped my face with his smooth hands and gave me a deep kiss.

  “It doesn’t matter where we are,” he whispered, caressing me, “we’re together and that’s all that matters.”

  I agreed by kissing him back. I would take what he was offering and forget about Lance. Time was too precious to waste and Mark was here now and so comforting. We lay on the pallets. The pleasure I was receiving did not make up for the discomfort of our dirty wooden bed. “Ouch!” I complained.

  Mark stood up and took my hand. “Okay, maybe habitat does make a bit of a difference. I can show you something you will enjoy and we don’t have to go far.”

  We walked, hand in hand, to just beyond the tunnel entrance, into the dark night air. He embraced me, as if we were dancing, and swirled around until we were in-flight, rising thirty feet. “We dance at Camelot like this,” I said.

  “No, not like this,” he replied, running his hands over my body while I tightly clutched his back. “Wrap your legs around me.” He kept rising, higher and higher.

  I complied, half out of pleasure and half from not wanting to fall. He maneuvered his pants off and let them fly. He then deftly removed my pants, and then my panties, requiring me to unwrap my legs. “Listen, gravity is working against me,” I said, feeling fear of falling in the pit of my stomach.

  “We can remedy that,” he said, moving his body to a horizontal flat and face up position and placing me on top. A warm desert breeze blew through my hair. I was naked, virtually riding Mark like he was a magic carpet. Gravity was now on my side and providing great pleasure. We rode the night sky until I was dizzy and exhausted.

  He brought me down to the ground, gradually, kissing me slowly the whole way down. “Are we together now?” he asked. “Are you happy?”

  “We are and I am,” I told him.

  Luckily, we found most of our clothes. Unfortunately, I never did find my panties.

  Chapter 20: The Origin of the Word

  Mark insisted on driving me back to Lance’s estate even though sunrise was only an hour away and I told him a taxi would be fine. He pulled into the round drive, close to the front door, and parked. “I just need to speak to Lance for a moment and tell him I’m in on the quest to destroy Claudius. I can’t personally kill him, of course, but I’ll do what I can,” he said.

  “Don’t you think it’s time to head home? I don’t want you getting caught out in the sun,” I said, when really I didn’t want him coming in so everyone would know our business--smelly, dirty clothes and all.

  “You reek from pee,” I said, hoping to change his mind.

  “Didn’t you tell them you would be with me?” he asked.

  “Actually, I did tell them I was going to ask for your help.”

  “Well, good. Let’s go in then,” he declared, getting out and going around the Jaguar to open my door.

  Lance was waiting for us at the door and offered his hand to Mark. They shook hands for what seemed like a long time. “I owe you a debt of gratitude for warning us about the attack on Camelot,” Lance said. “Come in, you’re welcome here anytime.”

  Of course, everyone was in the kitchen. I busied myself by going to the map to mark the tunnels we had searched. “There’s no sign of Claudius here,” I said, to no one in particular since all eyes were on Mark and everyone fawned all over him.

  “On behalf of the Knights of Camelot, we offer our thanks to you,” Lady Makeda said, giving Mark a hug.

  Master Kong also offered his appreciation, stating in his gentle voice, “You have acted with kindness without expecting gratitude, sir. For that, I will always be at your service.” Harold, Otis, and Lady Lozen gushed their thanks. Just when I thought they might dismiss our being together, I noticed Harold wrinkle his nose and sniff in my direction. Fortunately, he just gave me a disapproving glance.

  “Can I get you a drink?” Makeda offered.

  “No thank you, Lady Makeda,” Mark said. “I just wanted to drop in and let you know I’ll do all I can to help you find Claudius. I have some connections to contact and see if we can pinpoint where he is. You’re doing the world a great service—we’ll all be better off without him.”

  He turned to me and smiled. “Call me later, I’ll answer,” he said, approaching me.

  I believe he wanted to kiss me goodbye so I took a step back, feeling ashamed and not wanting our affair out in the open. He read the signal and stopped. Before he could turn and leave, I came to my senses and ran to his arms, kissing him fully on the lips. “You better believe I’ll call you,” I said.

  “You make our battle plans,” he said, giving me a sly smile and a final gaze with his cool brown eyes. He waved to the room, “Goodbye. Lance, I’ll call you if any information on Claudius comes in.”

  I decided to make a silent escape to my room, to shower and sleep. Harold stopped me in the hallway. “We need to talk,” he said.

  “Sure, go ahead,” I replied, leaving out make it quick.

  “Otis and I were able to track down the hunters. They might be willing to work with us but Magnus wants to meet with you first.”

  “Are you kidding? Why would he want to meet with me?”

  He tugged on his ear, obviously uncomfortable. “Well, he believes you are our leader and he’ll only work with the one in charge.”

  “Well, why in the Hell didn’t you enlighten him with the fact that this is a team effort and we have no leader! You know, this is why the world is in trouble—everyone wants a leader instead of stepping up and working in a group.”

  “Yes, I understand but the fact remains that Magnus wants to meet with you before joining forces.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, okay. Have you set up a time and place?”

  Harold looked forlorn. “No, I needed to check with you first, obviously.”

  “Set it up. I’ll make sure I’m there,” I told him. “Listen, how are the children doing?”

  The thought of the twins made him smile. “Laura says everything is fine; they’re doing well. We need to devote more time to their care when this is all over.”

  I gently touched his arm. “I agree, Harold. I promise you that will become my first priority. I’m going to grab some sleep and get back to the hunt later.”

  I was piling up the future obligations. I showered and went to bed, starting a cycle of vampire hours which was necessary if Mark and I were going to spend time together. I usually didn’t go to bed with my hair wet, it makes for a bad hair day, or night, but my schedule was off and I had no choice.

  I entered a state of vivid dreaming almost immediately. Merlin was there to guide me, and I felt like he was an old friend, we visited so often in dreams. A mist covered the floor and we walked, our feet floating over stone floors, in a beautiful pink mansion. His face appeared as it did in the portrait that hung at Camelot, only animated.
He fit the characteristic representation of a wizard, with a long flowing white beard and long, flowing cape, and piercing, sharp, blue eyes that projected magic. Perhaps Merlin was the source of depictions for all wizards that followed and copied his look.

  A huge virus would float by occasionally, like giant amebas in an ocean. Some were dark and ugly, and frightening. “That’s the zombie virus,” Merlin pointed to a dark green, spiked virus, and he reminded me of Harold addressing the knights about the Rh factor. At times, Merlin’s face did become the Professor, then the Master, and reverted back again to Merlin.

  “That one is the werewolf virus,” Merlin said, as a moon-colored virus with floating strands went by. “There are millions of ancient viruses,” he said, “the zombie virus mutated into the werewolf and then the vampire virus.” He pointed to the red, round, multi-spiked, vampire virus that hovered nearby.

  A large, beautiful virus floated near my head. It had swirling colors that gave off a soft, comforting glow, like a multi-colored universe. “It’s the Merlin virus,” I said, unsure of how I knew this. “The virus that is good—the one that should have been passed on. The virus that fills its host with kindness and love.” It was said that this virus went extinct when Merlin disappeared. It was a virus spread with a kiss, one that Merlin was quite stingy with and shared by a select, small group. It was said that this virus gave Merlin his powers and feelings of empathy.

  “I understand why the zombie virus hasn’t taken over. That parasitic virus causes the host to be stupid, without intellect and easily killed. I understand the mutation into werewolf that allows the host to remain human except during a full moon when the virus can be spread. I even understand the mutation into the vampire virus where again, the host keeps their personality and lives for a very long time, allowing the virus free reign. What I don’t understand is why you didn’t spread the Merlin virus? You could have saved humanity. How different the world would be—no wars, animals safe from slaughter, respect for the environment, if only people were infected with a benevolent virus that forced them to love one another.”

  Merlin touched my shoulder, as he often did in dreams. For one brief moment I was filled with serenity and love. I felt comfort, an assurance that all would be right with the world and only love mattered. “People must find their own way,” he said, “a virus can’t do it for them. We choose to be on this planet to learn universal lessons.”

  An image of the universe as one gigantic virus, with all of us merely parasitic players living inside, appeared before me on a TV screen. Billions of galaxies swirled inside an expanding space of energy in the celestial intelligence. The universe was alive. A door appeared on the screen and I wondered, what lies beyond the universe—it must end somewhere? What could possibly be behind the door when the universe is infinite? “That’s a concept I don’t understand,” I whispered to Merlin.

  Everything made perfect sense as it often does in a dream. “I came to tell you that you can always trust Lance.” With those final words, Merlin disappeared into the mist, along with the viruses. I woke up, feeling my hair. It was no longer wet; I’d slept for hours--there would be a need for hair styling gel and hairspray.

  I dressed in jeans and an Arm the Animals t-shirt with a graphic of an arctic wolf armed with an M-16. I would be honest with Mark and let him know the regular me. Well, almost, I did apply some make-up. I made my way to the kitchen for some much-needed coffee.

  “Good evening,” Lance said as I entered the room which had now become command center. People milled in and out, Makeda was on her cell phone, barking orders at someone. Harold and Otis were busy in a far corner of the kitchen, making colloidal silver.

  “We’re heading out as soon as the sun sets,” Lance said. “Percy is here, waiting in the meeting room so you can speak to him.”

  “Coffee first,” I said, grabbing a cup from the beverage station where snacks, juice, and blood were also available—the estate’s staff was on the ball and everything operated for maximum comfort. I headed towards the meeting room with Lance right behind me.

  “You’re coming with?” I asked.

  “Of course I am,” he replied.

  Percy was sitting at the round table, chatting on his cell phone. “I have to go, sweetheart,” he said, giving me the evil eye, “I’ll see you later,” he paused. “I love you too.”

  I assumed he was talking to Heather and said so. “Yes, it was Heather. She’s doing better and is adjusting to the truth. But she still doesn’t want to see you,” he said, coldly.

  I sat at the table, across from him. Lance sat next to me. “If she knows the truth, why won’t she see me? I don’t understand. I want to explain myself. You won’t tell my story,” I said, complaining.

  “First of all,” Percy said, slamming his hand down on the table, “I warned you not to see her. You couldn’t wait. She’s been traumatized by the truth and it’s all your fault.”

  I felt the blood rushing to my face. “Listen here, asshole, I want to talk to her—you don’t fucking own her so don’t think that you can stop me.”

  Lance put his hand on his forehead. Percy said, “I told you this meeting was useless.”

  “Stop it, you two,” Lance said, standing up. “Percy, show some respect for Heather’s mother. Nola, you wanted this meeting to make sure your daughter is okay, so ask your questions and be courteous—don’t make me regret setting this up.”

  I took a sip from my coffee and tried to calm down. Lozen stood in the doorway and motioned for Lance. “Sorry,” she whispered, “we need you for a conference call.”

  “You two behave,” Lance commanded, as if he were addressing two children, “I’ll be right back.”

  Percy sat back; looking bored, and examined his fingernails. “Heather is adjusting and I’m looking after her. What more do you need to know?”

  Holding my coffee cup in two hands and gulping, I took a deep breath and tried to explain my feelings to someone who couldn’t stand my existence. “Look, I appreciate that you are protecting her. I’d like you to understand how much I love her and worry about her. The apocalypse is bearing down on us and all humans are in danger.”

  He looked me right in the eyes and stated, “She’s not in danger either way with her Rh negative blood. The virus won’t hurt her and even if Claudius is successful the vampires will keep her alive.”

  I spit out the coffee that was in my mouth. The liquid flew in Percy’s direction, a few droplets landing on his white shirt. I vaguely remembered the nurse coming in after Heather’s birth. She gave me an Rh immunoglobulin shot that would prevent my antibodies from aborting a future pregnancy should the baby be Rh positive but my first born child’s blood was the same as mine, she had said. It was all medical mumbo-jumbo at the time and I felt like a moron for forgetting that I was Rh negative and so was my daughter. The burning question was, how did Percy know?

  The answer lit my fuse. Clearly, he had tasted her blood to know she was Rh negative. I threw my coffee cup at him and he deftly avoided it with his vampire reflexes. “You pervert! You tasted her blood!” I screamed at him, “I’m going to fucking kill you!” I jumped onto the sacred table, turning werewolf, and ready to pounce on him.

  “Nola, shut the fuck up and sit down!” Lance yelled, coming back into the room. I had never before heard Lance utter a profanity. I quickly resumed my human form and scooted across the table, returning to my seat. The effect of the ancient word, fuck, is amazing when it’s sparingly used—it stopped me in mid-attack.

  Lance often hinted at me to be more lady-like in my use of profanity and stop using the word as a description. I told him that was awfully fucking sexist of him. He didn’t bother me too much about my swearing but he did often wince when I was talking. I tried telling him it was just a word, like any other, in use since the fifteenth century, but he said it was always taboo and vulgar.

  I tried to trace the origin of the word once, to prove to Lance it was just a term, but there is no clear trail.
No etymologist has been able to discover the source although there are clues that the word is of Germanic origin. Its use in written language was found in a poem from 1475. It’s also possible that it derives from a proper name—historic English prison documents cite a John le Fucker as a murderer in 1278. Or perhaps it comes from fuker, a maker of cloth. My favorite origin story is that it’s an acronym from the Puritan age, when people were placed in stocks for public shaming and FUCK was written above their heads, meaning for unlawful carnal knowledge. The truth is, nobody knows for sure but sometimes no other word will do and fuck can be used as a noun, verb, adjective, or adverb.

  Lance was pissed, that’s for sure, his second use of the word made it clear. “What the fuck Nola? You wanted this meeting. We are here at your request. How can you act so uncivilized?”

  He was right, of course. Lance was so upstanding that if he got angry you knew you were at fault. “I’m sorry,” I said, bowing my head in shame.

  Percy headed out the door, turning once to tell me, “Heather and I love each other and what we do is none of your business. If you must know, I had to show her what I was and that she was safe. She understands and trusts me again. There’s no way you’re coming near her again. You just proved what a crazy bitch you are!”

  I raised my middle finger and gave Percy the fuck you salute, an action that dates back to ancient Greece. Lance and I sat quietly for a few minutes. He took my hand and simply said, “I’m worried about you. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

  I shook my head and quietly muttered, “Fuck this.” He left the room without a word.

  Thank goodness I’d brought my cell phone with me. I needed to talk to Mark. I needed the assurance that his golden voice brought to my spirit. When I joined him later he would learn the truth about me. I would tell him everything about my werewolf condition and my daughter. I had to tell him before he heard it from someone else, now that he was working with the Knights of the Round Table. However, I wanted to be honest with him in any case, since we were becoming close.