Second Genesis

by Eric Williams

  Ezra pat Xairin on the knee. “Xairin, you’re the only person that can help us right now. 48 people deserve justice for what happened to them, and so do you.”

  Xairin looked into Ezra’s blue eyes. Ezra saw a tear streaming down his right cheek. He wanted to reach out and wipe it away. He had learned so much about Xairin from K2, that it was almost to the point of compromising his ability to keep his composure. He felt drawn to him. He also recalled his first encounter with Xairin. He remembered him being sad that night too. He caught himself before he broke professionalism. “Please try.”

  Alex walked over and leaned beside Xairin, patting him on the shoulder. While speaking in a reassuring tone. “Come on, get it over with.”

  Xairin took a deep breath and began swiping the screen. He went through four faces with no luck, another five and nothing. Ten more, no matches, and before he knew it, two hundred and seven other faces matching the parameters of blonde and brunette. Nothing came to mind. Xairin tilted his head and refreshed it. He swiped again, he went through each one over ten minutes, look carefully, using his Immortium brain to recall detail, and nothing popped up. “He’s not here.” He said. His voice filled with frustration. “He’s not here. I don’t see him in any of these I.D. scans.”

  Xairin was a bit more determined. “Uh. Can you reset it to every white male that came in that night? Maybe his hair had a blonde dye job.”

  Ezra nodded and obliged. This time Xairin had over a thousand faces to go through. It took him almost an hour as everyone sat there patiently. Xairin’s face filled with further determination and discontent. “He’s not here. None of these faces are his, not a damn one of them!”

  Marine scoffed. “That can't be. Everyone that enters any club must have their I.D. scanned into logs. Look again.”

  Xairin looked over at her, clearly vexation was setting in. “I am telling you, his face is not here! Maybe the son of a bitch snuck in, cause I’m telling you. I remember that fuckers face. It haunted me for twelve fucking straight hours when I was in that embryonic sac and every night there after with the exception of last night. Last night is the first night I’ve been able to sleep without having to recall that mother fuckers face and what they did to me! I am telling you detectives; his face is not in this registry!”

  Ezra and Marine looked at one another. Ezra looked over to the side. “Okay, we’ll talk to the owner and see if it's possible if someone could have snuck in.”

  Xairin stood up, his eyes turned red. This was something both Marine and Ezra had never seen, a red eyed vamp. Even Xairin’s canines and lateral incisors elongated. “I am telling you, his face is not in that registry. It's not there. Now if you want, I can come down and let a sketch artist do a work up., or... If you have a sensitive I can show you.”

  Ezra looked up at Xairin. He was a little uncomfortable seeing the red eyes glaring at him, but he did speak up. “Xairin, I’m a sensitive. Show me.”

  Xairin tilted his head. He looked a little surprised at first, but then cocked his head to the other side while allowing a telepathic flow to commence. Ezra closed his eyes. He could see the man bun, the goatee, the brown eyes, and muscular build, he could see the face Xairin was seeing. Without knowing his own strength, Xairin relieved a brief snip of what happened to him. This caused Ezra to stand up quick and grow nauseated. “STOP!”

  Marine put her hand on Xairin’s chest to back him off, while Alex put his hand on her arm. Xairin withdrew once he realized he gave Ezra more mental detail than he asked for. Ezra was disoriented for a moment. “My god...” His breathing was hastened.

  Xairin walked off, “Now you know what I went through, and what he looks like. So... please… do something about it.”

  Chapter 11

  Damien Winters.

  Lillian had just checked in with Alex on the detail. He had reported back about the encounter with Interpol, and that Xairin seemed like he was doing ok. She had encouraged him to try and push Xairin into joining their agent ranks, but Alex assured her, he was nowhere near ready for that type of work given what the man had been through.

  Lillian was in transit. She was sitting in the back of a flying white limo, awaiting to arrive at the estate of an old friend. If that’s what you would have called him.

  Damien Winters was the most recent name taken by one of the most legendary vampires to ever live. A vampire that had in Lilith’s mind, did more harm than any hunter. A vampire that had inspired countless tales, movies, and books. Dracula himself.

  Dracula’s history was partially correct. Vlad Tepes was indeed the Impaler everyone knew for his harsh policies and punishments. He was the second son of Vlad Dracul, which sparked the name Dracula later on. The part history got wrong however, was how he became a vampire. Vlad was injured in a great battle. The scent of his blood took to the air and whispered into the Carpathian Mountains. It lingered into a cavern, the resting place of the last Baalian demons, a bat infected from the comet’s first passing. The bat took to the skies, and found the ruler lying in his own blood. It feasted. Had it not been for the bat’s photosensitivity, it would have finished him off beyond the point of resurgence had the sun not risen in those wee hours. The part that was true, was Vlad’s head was severed and delivered to a sultan. Turks had found him in the embryonic phase and cleaved his head before the nosferatu form had overtaken him. What they didn’t know at the time, was his body had underwent just enough transformation that Vlad’s brain had evolved into a bat like creature. He emerged as a Grand Alpha and escaped into the night to regenerate a new body, and a new face.

  Now, centuries later, he was known as Damien Winters. He had kept his dark hair short and kept his face neatly shaven, never daunting a five o'clock shadow. He had blue piercing eyes, and a devilish charm about him. He was tall, but not six feet, close, 5’10, at around 180 lbs. of pure muscle. Given his regeneration, the man passed easily for 30.

  Damien’s stone mansion was hidden a top a winding mountain in what was once California. He had moved there years ago to escape the constant reminders of Europe. Damien lived a lavish life, but also a simple one. His primary export these days was wine. He owned several vineyards, and delighted in the art. Most of his wealth had come from that, and investments made over the years before the GA had risen up.

  Lillian’s limo landed just at the beginning of his long driveway. There several guards to greet her. They stopped her limo from advancing, as a man in a suit approached. The driver, a young woman, rolled the window down once the drone fans had risen upward. She had black glasses on as it was day time. The guard himself had fashionable sunglasses, hiding his eyes from the harsh sun. “State your business here?”

  The driver simply smiled. “My queen wishes to speak with your king. Lilith…”

  The guard quickly spoke into a commlink on his collar. The driver could hear the voices feeding into the man’s ear bud. “Find out what she wants.”

  The driver grinned. “My mistress wishes to speak with Damien, in private.”

  She could hear the voices loud and clear, it was obvious to her that the guard was either a new vamp or just a stupid one. She heard the words. “Send her away.”

  Before the guard could as much as blink an eye, the driver put her hand on her hip. “We’re not leaving. Tell that old bat he has company. We are following the rules of engagement, we’ve announced our presence in your territory, and seek an audience with your king.”

  The guard rolled his eyes and spoke into his commlink. “They’re invoking the rules of engagement.”

  After sixty seconds, the driver got the go ahead and got back into the limo. She engaged the dronemobile’s terrain gear and drove up the winding path, leading to the stone mansion’s front marbled pillars. Upon stopping, nine other guards in suits with eye protectant sunglasses surrounded the car. A few moments later the back door opened slowly. Ninlil emerged in a purple sparkling evening gown with high heel shoes to match.

  Her birthmark was easily seen by the skimpy
straps to the back of her dress. She looked around as her red curls fell into place. “Well, where’ is Vlad?”

  The guard led her along a stone walkway into a vineyard. From there she had to watch her step along the earthen ground. She passed a few rows of grape vines, until finally she saw a man hunkered down wearing a white t-shirt, blue jeans and a brown cowboy hat. Upon approach Damien sniffed the air and had to adjust his sunglasses that were reminiscent of the Victorian age. He snarled a little as he picked a few darker grapes off the vine and placed them into his basket.

  He stood up. His chest hair hinted over the V-necked white t shirt. He turned around slowly, dipping his hat. “Lillian, that's what I should call you now right?”

  His young face had changed since the last time she saw him. It was more angular; a strong jawline pronounced his face. He crossed his arms and tried his best to keep his dirty hands from tainting his shirt.

  She too crossed her arms. “I never did need to look into your eyes to know it was you Vlad, your scent always gave you away. Oh, Damien, Sorry I forgot.”

  His deep voice echoed a little. “What is it you want now?”

  She tilted her head. “Always down to business. I admire that.”

  Damien wasn't amused. “Just spit it out already. You and I both know you never show up unless you want something. Lillian, do an old vampire a favor and get on to the point of things.”

  She let her hands fall to her sides and walked over to him slowly. “You haven’t responded to my council invitation. I want you on the Society’s council.”

  Damien had lost his European accent a century ago. He dug into a country one and replied. “Well mam, As I’ve stated before, I’m a neutral and I like that way.”

  She crossed her arms again. “Neutral my ass Vlad.”

  He turned around and knelt back down to begin picking grapes again. “I like being neutral Lilith, you’re wasting your time trying to convince me otherwise, now if you don’t mind me, these grapes are not going to pick themselves.”

  Lillian snarled. “Look, I know we’ve had our differences Damien, but I need your help. They fear me plenty, but they fear you too. I need your help if this is going to work.”

  He scoffed. “What, humans and us? Getting along? Side by side?”

  She nodded. “Not just the humans Vlad, the others. I need more grand Alphas on my council if I am to maintain order and to give the other houses pause for thought should they attempt to usurp our rule.”

  He scoffed as he tossed a handful of grapes into his basket. “It's always about power isn't it?”

  She walked closer to him. “A gorgon attacked one of the human facilities housing those being released, as well as those who had yet to resurge. I couldn’t get any information out of him, he resisted my efforts.”

  He laughed sarcastically.” An immortal that can resist your charms, I like this Immortium already.”

  She growled. “He attacked humans and could have very well-made trouble for our kind had he made it to the lower levels of that facility.

  Damien wasn’t happy with her being there, nor demanding anything of him for that matter. He didn’t care too much for humans and had grown tired of immortal games. Now he simply resolved to be a recluse with his nest staying off the grid. He stood up and turned around, barking at her. “I don’t care.”

  She was persistent. Usually she would have already enforced something on him, but being a grand Alpha made from the source like she was, it would have been difficult to try. “Look, if humans and immortals are to coexist, we need each other, and need to work together. They old immortals fear you, I need your help.”

  His lips quivered a little. He was angry with her. He didn’t show his fangs, and as for his black eyes, his sunglasses kept those hidden even if they were there to be seen. He just stood his ground and fired back. “I helped you once already NINLIL and it cost me. Never again!”

  He walked off grabbing his basket, and began picking from the top cords, walking along while he picked the best ones.

  She looked at the ground. She knew exactly what he was referring too and given the subject it was already a raw nerve to pounce on. “I’m sorry!”

  He stopped moving and looked over his shoulder.

  Lillian walked up to him, he turned around crossing his arms again after setting the basket down. “I’m sorry I hurt you, and I’m sorry for keeping things from you. You’re right. I shouldn’t be asking for your help now. But something has dredged up old wounds.”

  “And what could that possibly be?” He said while raising his tone a little.

  “Her name was Sara.” Lillian’s eyes grew watery. “We had grandchildren Vlad. We even had great grandchildren. They killed them Vlad, the immortal conclave or the fucks from the tribunal, killed them.”

  The emotional wound was open, his canines elongated. “You used me as breeding stock Lilith.” He swung his arms out while his sarcastic tone filled the air. “You used me, got what you wanted, and left me, high and dry without saying a single word. You didn’t even bother to tell me I was going to be a father. You just stored my seed with that amazing fucking biology of ours and chose to get pregnant a century fucking later! You should have chosen to get pregnant when we were together Lilith, TOGETHER! I could have helped you protect our child, but no, you pulled a fucking human bitch card.”

  He walked back, and kicked the basket, sending grapes everywhere. “We’re the evolved ones, not them. You pulled a fucking human bitch card on me and kept me from my own kid. I didn’t even goddamn know about her until that goddamn feathered fucking angel wannabe took her!”

  Lilith lowered her head in shame. Vampires, like bats could choose when they got pregnant after mating. For bats, they could delay it for months. For vampires, centuries. She had hoped that both of them being grand Alphas, would have produced a grand Alpha child, able to protect itself early on. Their memories were inherited to some degree, both being powerful warriors, their child would have been a warrior from the start. Sara was, but she was only an Alpha.

  “I made a mistake Vlad, a big one. I shouldn’t have used you and I should have told you. You’re right, I should have chosen right then to allow my pregnancy to happen, and yeah… You could have probably helped protect her. It's my fault, and I have to live with that every day. And I have no right to ask you for any further help Vlad. But those responsible for her death, and our grandchildren, are either hiding in the tribunal, or the conclave. The humans need us, this second genesis that's brought about new immortals, they need us.” She growled as her own fangs elongated. “And you and I both deserve a little pay back for what they took from both of us.”

  Damien took his sunglasses off. His eyes were sparkling blue but for only a second. His eyes became pitch black. “If I help you, it's not for you Ninlil or whatever the fuck you’re calling yourself now. It's for what I’ve lost…”

  His muscular arms quivered as purple veins rose up to the surface of his skin. His black claws grew quickly right as he scratched his chin. “I do this for our daughter. So, if you have anything else pertinent to this little meeting of ours, spit it the fuck out!”

  She shook her head. “Poseidon has joined me along with his mer, as have Aries, but Aries is keeping himself in the cave so to speak. So far, he’s been listening in on the Tribunal. Freya and two half breeds from the Asgardian council are meeting with me tomorrow, and so far, the sasquatch and yeti werewolf tribes are cooperating.”

  She took a breath. She knew he had his own contacts with other immortals from Europe. She needed them on board. “I need you to speak to those Romanian werewolf packs loyal to you. I need more allies. An Alpha Gorgon wouldn’t just attack on his own without his nestmates. Someone higher is pulling strings and I need hard hitters Vlad. Hard hitters.”

  He scoffed. “What the fuck does a Gorgon have anything to do with our daughter? All I’ve heard so far is plotting against other immortals.”

  She smirked. “Gorgons killed our daughter’s
child and her grandchildren. A gorgon… Aside from gargoyles, gorgons normally always allied themselves with the Greek. And let’s not forget that it's the Greek Aeons that imposed their rules on us. Now I have turned the tide on them this time Damien. The children of the night are in charge now, and they will not stay at the top without you and a few others flexing their claws.”

  He snarled. He knew she was scheming. He hated being a part of immortal plays for power these days, despite his own he once deployed in Europe and England. He rolled his eyes. “I will show up on your council to give pause for thought, and I will call a few pack leader friends of mine to give me more muscle for show. But I want more than that if you expect me to stick around. I want the names of who killed our child, otherwise, you can go fuck yourself!”

  He picked his basket up and went back to picking grapes. Lillian turned around and closed her eyes. She bit her lip, clenched her fist and walked back to the limo driver waiting for her return.

  Chapter 12

  Coming to terms.