Blood Crusade

by Billita Jacobsen

  “Do you mind if I go check my cell phone? I’m sure Percy must be worried since I haven’t called,” Heather said, a look of concern on her sweet face.

  Since it was a short, safe walk to our hotel it seemed I didn’t need to worry about her. “Of course I don’t mind,” I answered with a lie.

  “Thanks, Mom, you’re the best,” she said, giving me a kiss on the check, “order a glass of wine for me and whatever you’re having for dinner, I’ll be right back.”

  Our vacation had ended up becoming a wake-up call for me. She loved Percy deeply and would never be persuaded to turn against him. I resigned to just enjoy whatever time I was fortunate enough to get with Heather and forget that she was making the biggest mistake of her life.

  The waiter came over and placed a glass of Champagne on the table. “With compliments of the lovely red-haired lady,” he said in English with a soft French accent.

  She sat at the far end of the patio, in the darkest section, and waved at me. I would never have taken notice of her if she hadn’t had the audacity to send me a drink. I grabbed the flute and marched over to her table, trying to prevent myself from bounding over as a werewolf, and thinking I’d fling the Champagne in her face. “Bitch, you have a lot of nerve!” I barked.

  “Yes, I know,” she smiled, looking very chic in a flowing turquoise dress, a thin gold chain with a diamond pendant and matching stud earrings, understated and elegant, unlike the last time I saw her. “Before you do anything you’ll regret, let me point out my bodyguards,” she said, nodding in the direction of four bulky black-suited men standing near the river. “They won’t hesitate to kill you but for now, I mean you no harm. I simply have some information to share. Please sit down.”

  I needed to find out why she sought me out and get rid of her before Heather returned. “I’ll stand,” I said, placing the champagne flute on the table. “Just tell me what it is that you want and hurry up.”

  “I wish to thank you for completing our mission,” she said. “Heather has spread the virus throughout Europe. I’m beyond pleased that our plans to cull the human population have come to fruition.”

  “What are you talking about—that’s crazy,” I said, stunned.

  “She was infected while Claudius held her captive. You’ve been stupid enough to travel with her, spreading the virus. Vampires will rule the world that remains after the zombies take out the trash.” She giggled with delight.

  “You’re a damn liar!”

  Guinevere tossed her head back, laughing, her thick red hair cascading down her back as she smacked a hand on the table in delight. “The look on your face is priceless! I will keep that image in my mind until we meet again and can have our showdown. It’s time for me to leave now—here comes your daughter, the Death Bringer. Enjoy Paris while you can, before it’s overrun with zombies!” She quickly slithered away, joining her guards, before I could make any decision about what to do with her.

  Heather stood by our table, looking for me. My little girl had grown up to be an unassuming, kind woman who would never hurt anyone. It would break her soul to discover she was responsible for numerous deaths. Surely Guinevere simply sought to antagonize me. My daughter couldn’t possibly be the one to bring about the apocalypse.

  “Mother! Hurry!” she shouted, spotting me walking towards her. “We have to get back.”

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” I questioned, although I knew the dreadful answer before it left her lips.

  Breathlessly she uttered, “The people of Camelot are deathly ill. Percy thinks we brought back the Claudius virus on our clothes or shoes. He sent the Camelot jet for us early this morning. We need to get our things and hurry to the airport.”

  It had been three weeks since we left Yucca Mountain; the virus has surely spread like vines through flowers, and was in full and deadly bloom. The red-haired scum, Guinevere, had told me the truth to bring me pain. Heather was infected. My baby girl would become infamous, like Typhoid Mary, a healthy carrier of the fever that brought death to New York City residents in the early 1900’s. Mary Mallon had worked as a cook and served illness and death to all who ate the food she prepared. She was arrested and confined for the rest of her life in a permanent quarantine. I didn’t want that grief for Heather, something had to be done.

  I had one option but I needed further confirmation before taking it and facing the dire consequences. I raced ahead of Heather to open doors and nearly knocked her out of the way in the elevator so I could push our floor button and stop her from spreading germs and creating more zombies. “I wish we didn’t have to go back,” I said as we neared our suite. “You need more rest after the traumatic experience you had at Yucca Mountain.”

  “Mother, stop worrying. I’m fine. Percy helped me through it.”

  “So, I never asked you what happened while you were there. Were you with Percy the entire time they held you captive?”

  “Well, no. They had me with the other humans for a while. I was unconscious for a short time and when I woke up, they led me to Percy.”

  I hardened myself to do what must be done. There was no choice, Heather had obviously been infected by Claudius. She must be stopped from spreading the virus to more people. I had to infect her with the werewolf virus before she went to the airport where thousands of people would be exposed, many of them returning to their home countries.

  She was rushing around our suite, packing her things, when Percy called. She was practically caressing her cell phone as she spoke to him, “Hello, my love. We’re getting ready to leave now…”

  I stood by the door, blocking her exit. The course of action was clear—she would no longer be a carrier after I scratched and infected her with the werewolf virus. My cover story needed to be good and something she would believe so she would never know the real reason her mother had betrayed her. She was looking out the window, finishing her call with Percy, her back towards me, when I changed into a werewolf.

  “Percy sent a car to pick us up, it’s waiting out front…” she said, turning to face me and flinching with surprise at my appearance. “Jeez, you made me jump. What are you doing? Mother, why aren’t you packing? We need to go, now. Quit messing around.”

  Calmly, I tried to explain. “Heather, it’s only a matter of time before Percy will change you into a vampire. I am making this decision for you so you can enjoy the sunshine. If he chooses, you’ll never walk in the sunlight again.” Okay, it sounded lame but it was all I had on such short notice.

  “You’re joking,” she said, trying to smile, her lips trembling, “you wouldn’t really…”

  “I’d rather you were like me than that asshole I hate. By the way, try really looking at him, would you--marrying him will be the biggest mistake of your life,” I said, since it no longer mattered what I revealed about Percy, I wouldn’t be part of her life now.

  She backed away as I approached, sure now that I was serious. “Don’t do this. I’ll never speak to you again. If you think it will bring us closer, you’re wrong. I’ll hate you!”

  “I know,” I said, grabbing her hand and scratching her, “I won’t be returning to Camelot with you, turning someone against their will is a death penalty carried out by the Knights of the Round Table. I’m sorry; maybe someday you’ll forgive me.” Guinevere would likely blab about it and Heather would know the truth in the future but it wouldn’t be today and it wouldn’t come from me.

  She looked down at her bleeding hand in shock, mouth and eyes wide open. “Oh my God, you did it, you really did it!”

  “When you get back to Camelot, ask Master Kong to guide you,” I said, my final words to my daughter offering her no reassurance at all as she ran from the room sobbing. I almost darted after her, she forgot her purse and her bag and it would have been nice to make sure she got in the car safely, but I needed to hurry and begin my journey.

  I would start where we began our vacation, in Ireland, and search the places we visited and look for signs of illness. There was no way
to stop the apocalypse but I could kill as many of the infected as possible and prevent a zombie hoard if possible. There was no option to turn the diseased into werewolves; there wasn’t much difference in werewolves roaming and murdering people or zombies, neither was a good outcome. It was impossible to turn that many people into werewolves and get them to Camelot for training. Death was the logical solution.

  So I will begin my blood crusade, killing humans who are diseased. If you have the virus, I’m coming for you. I’ll do my best to make it quick. Forgive me, but I must become what I despised and hunted—a rogue killer, alone in the universe.

  -End-