Dominion Rising: 23 Brand New Science Fiction and Fantasy Novels

by White, Gwynn

  Everyone backed away from the gurney at the attendant’s nod, her white kerchief the only part of her uniform—which reminded Girard of a white nun’s habit—not gray from being soaked with pool water. She held the bowl next to the head of the young man immobile on the gurney. The boy’s face was smooth and slack, any awareness gone. He had no fear…or any other emotion. His body lived, but the person inside had long since departed for the world beyond this one.

  The attendant opened her mouth and small, specialized appendages darted from her mouth. This was exactly the same process as a vampire giving birth outside the body in almost every respect. Perhaps that was what creeped Girard out so much. Those who worked here were in a constant state of reproductive readiness, each one holding an egg ready to be fertilized. Having that egg allowed these appendages to form and remain. Once a fertilized egg was either growing with a human fetus or born into the water, those arms would be absorbed back into the body.

  The appendages touched the vampire in the bowl, little pushes urging it forward and the unique biological chemistry that governed this process passing between the two vampires through the birthing arms. Instinct took over from there. Once the vampire made contact with the mouth of the boy, it was all over except the waiting. It opened the mouth, slithered in with surges of effort and eventually disappeared, leaving the mouth to hang partially open because the boy had no volition to close it.

  Greg looked on and Girard could see the horror in his expression, though it was clear he was trying to hide it. He touched the doctor on the arm and whispered, “You should talk to your parents. This is shocking the first time, but this is what we are. It isn’t wrong to be one of us. We’re a part of nature.”

  The doctor nodded, but his face was still pale. Absently, he rubbed the skin of his arm just above the wrist, as if trying to imagine what he looked like beneath the human surface. Just then, the heart monitor on the gurney emitted a few rapid tones as the heartbeat faltered, then it came back strong and steady. Greg checked all the equipment, then looked up in wonder. “He’s improving already!”

  Lila smiled at him and said, “We do serve a purpose, but remember, that boy is still gone. This is one of us now.”

  Greg’s hand made as if to stroke the boy’s forehead, much like he’d done in the hospital, but he curled his fingers and drew his hand away. There was no more young man inside to comfort.

  “I think you can probably go now,” Girard said. “The crisis is past. We’ll have the gurney brought up soon. You can rest in the guest quarters if you like.”

  He nodded, glancing once more at the boy’s still face, then walked away. Girard hoped he would be alright. Seeing this the first time was always a shock. Not everyone came to terms with their true nature. Greg was a good being, so Girard really hoped he would be one of those who could accept it. Vampires who couldn’t only survived as long as their first body let them. Girard made a mental note to check in with Greg after he’d had a chance to absorb this new information. Maybe talking about it to someone with a sympathetic ear would help.

  The pool attendant did the work while Lila and Girard waited. She stroked the new vampire’s arms, his neck, his legs. It was how a vampire in a new body made connections. Stimulating touch and sensation sped up the process. Girard had done this same thing for Lila when she transferred. He’d done it for a few others too. Just not in the pool. That wasn’t to his liking at all.

  Groans were the first noises the vampire made, which was normal. Strangled noises and grunts of pain followed. Eventually, the eyes opened and roamed the space, confusion evident. The lights that would eventually reveal this ancient’s age were not yet evident. It took time for a vampire to manufacture all the tendrils that would connect the various systems. Right now, there were a few tiny pricks of light, less than a newborn just birthed.

  Girard eventually stopped the pool attendant and dismissed her. She glanced at the pools with a worried expression, but he said, “It will be fine. We require privacy.”

  Sensing Girard’s hesitation—or maybe disgust—Lila took over for the attendant, but the hard part was over. She spoke to the vampire softly, calling his name and stroking his hands and arms. Eventually, the vampire spoke, though his words were still a little garbled.

  “I am Marcus.”

  “Yes, welcome back.”

  The vampire rolled his eyes a little in pain, coughed, and then said, “Have I awoken to a miracle age?”

  The memories of the boy would be flooding Marcus’s system right now, too many strange things colliding all at once. It wouldn’t take long to sort, but those first days could be confusing. And this vampire had been put into the punishment pools one hundred and seventy-seven years ago. The boy’s memories of video games and cellphones were probably pretty hard to accept at first flush.

  “No, just the modern one,” Lila said with a smile. As a historian, Lila was most likely very eager to spend time with this vampire. It would be like reliving ancient Rome with an eye witness. No historian could possibly resist that. That was for later. Right now, they needed information and could only hope that this vampire might have some of it.

  They also needed his strength. Weak as a kitten now, in a few days he would be stronger than any of them. The offer they were authorized to make was a powerful one, and Girard hoped he would take it. In exchange for helping them now, the remaining three hundred plus years of his sentence would be waived. If he were in that vampire’s position, Girard would most certainly take the deal.

  But would this one take it? And if he didn’t want to go back into the pool, how exactly was Girard supposed to make him do it once he’d regained his full strength? Marcus had once been a Guardian himself, but that was long ago, long before Girard had even been born. Back when they were called Astynomia. He probably knew every Guardian trick there was and then some.

  Girard jumped a little when the vampire suddenly blurted out, “I’m starving. When can I eat? I need a dozen humans and I need them fast.”

  This was going to be fun, Girard decided.

  14

  What do you mean, this is a human?” Marcus growled, sitting at the head of their kitchen table and glowering at the tiny vial in his hand. He looked like a big, angry baby. “The memories I have say this is a container for something called cocaine, which is apparently dangerous and not for me to take because of the testing of urine for sports. Is this some kind of trick, for there is no human in here.”

  Girard had to look down at his lap to stop himself from busting a gut laughing. His shoulders shook anyway and he did his best to keep it inside. The things that had been coming out of the newly woken vampire’s mouth since he came around were a combination of the ridiculous and the absurd. It was hilarious.

  Marcus obviously knew Girard was laughing, because he boomed out, “And I can see for myself that humans have not shrunk so tiny! I’m as big as a honey-fed gladiator. Why are you laughing?”

  Lila, who sat on the other side of the table from Girard, squeaked out a sound. Girard finally let loose, gasping, “Tiny humans!”

  That set her off, and she snorted in that way she did when she really got going, “Urine! Gladiators!”

  Marcus slapped his free hand on the table so hard that the vials in the tiny rack tinkled like little bells. “That’s enough! If I wanted to be laughed at, I’d have stayed married to that harridan from Germania that kept trying to kill me in my sleep!”

  The combination of his offended tone, his young voice, and the accent provided by the body’s memories was too much. Girard almost fell off his chair and descended into hiccupping laughs that almost choked him. After so much tension and stress, it was like someone had cut his strings. All he could hear was this titan of wisdom—this half-mythical philosopher king from the deep past—sounding like a city-born teenager talking about cocaine in his pee.

  Holding up his hand, he choked out, “I’m sorry. Truly.” That was all he could manage before he started laughing again.


  Lila recovered first, but not before Marcus delivered a sharp kick under the table directly to Girard’s shin. He yelped and jerked away, but it was still too funny to entirely stop laughing.

  “Marcus, please forgive us. We’ve been under a lot of pressure lately and…well…you’re not what we expected,” Lila said, trying not to choke out more laughter.

  Girard wiped his eyes and rubbed at his shin, then steadfastly avoided looking at either of their faces to prevent himself from laughing again. “It’s nothing personal. But yes, that is, in essence, a tiny human.”

  Giving them both suspicious glances, Marcus looked at the vial again. “Do you breed them like this?”

  Was he messing with them? Because if he was serious, Girard was going to start laughing again. Apparently, he was, because he grinned and added, “Kidding.”

  Lila wiped her eyes, then examined Marcus more closely. “You’re adjusting very quickly and you’re using the language perfectly. Is that because you’re so old?”

  He looked vaguely offended, but given that he also looked—and actually now was—twenty years old, the old man posture he showed merely looked like he was trying to be funny. He winked at Lila and said, “It’s because I’ve been punished so often. That’s not my first pool. If vampires had prison tattoos, I’d be covered in them.” When Lila wrinkled her brow at that, he added, “This young man watched a lot of television and movies. I want to do that as soon as possible. It seems wonderful.”

  It was remarkable how quickly he was moving into the memories and using them for his own. It took Girard days of quiet thinking to do that. Each human was entirely unique, and they left much of themselves behind. Each one changed the vampire and it was hard. Not for Marcus apparently. He seemed to be reveling in it.

  Lila met his gaze, then gave a tiny shrug as if to say, Well, what next?

  Rather than let Marcus say anything else to set them off—either he was a comedian or he was simply ridiculous—Girard pointed to the vial and said, “We use blood filtering technology on donated blood. It filters out what we need, but leaves the rest for the humans who need the blood. There’s no need for filtering it with our bodies anymore and obviously, it takes less time this way.”

  Marcus peered more closely at the slightly pearlescent, gray liquid, his brows drawn. “This boy had much donated blood in his life and I understand what you mean. This is remarkable. Such advances. The boy’s memories are filled with things that almost seem magical. This is yet another piece of such magic.”

  Girard was reminded again of the boy as he was in the hospital, sick and going gray with impending death. Now, his skin was warm and brown, the face gleaming with returning health. There was still too much bone and not enough muscle, but Marcus was an old vampire with a lot of bodies under his belt. Given enough food and good nutrition, he would be back to peak condition in weeks, if not days.

  “He was very sick for a long time and was born with a blood disorder. Sadly, he was probably more familiar with medical procedures than most.” Girard left the explanation vague and general. Marcus had the boy’s memories and he would parse it out for himself soon enough.

  Marcus looked past the vial and into Girard’s eyes, “He is gone now. I sensed no disorder, no conflict. He was gone before I came, lost in formless dreams, and his body is now healing. I will carry it for him. That is my duty and I will not fail to carry it out.”

  He said it seriously, almost like a pledge or vow, or maybe a military person taking their oath. It was a serious thing, yes, but Girard had never heard anyone speak of it like that before. It almost sounded religious, which made him think of the reasons Marcus was being woken so early. While Marcus was certainly entertaining, Girard hoped he knew of Thalia or really anything of that time which might help them.

  Ancients weren’t common, and the ones that were known were often fairly reclusive. Even Yadikira had politely turned down all requests for a transcription by the historians over the years. They’d been asking every vampire for a transcription, and since she was thought to be very old…though no one knew for sure how old…she was of particular interest. It was her right to turn it down, but the lack of ancients who had done transcriptions was now biting them in their collective butts. In terms of sharing information, Yadikira reluctantly completed the occasional census, but never answered anything save the most general questions and demurred at any invitation to engage. So, ancients weren’t exactly chatty with Guardians. Marcus was one of only two in the pools, and the other one in the tank was a complete lunatic and would likely never again be given a body. Most ancients out in the world were simply off-grid.

  In short, no one with the Guardians here knew squat about ancients and their motives.

  Girard desperately hoped that Marcus would be able to fill in some gaps. It also seemed likely that the historians would get some serious budget increases in the near future. This sort of surprise could not be allowed to happen again, so the money would flow. Every year they had to battle for enough money to run the compound and upgrade equipment, so this surge of funding would be most welcome and would likely filter out to include general computer upgrades and all sorts of goodness. Lila was not displeased by that and Girard would bet a week’s pay that she was already making wish lists of equipment.

  Marcus moved to unscrew the top of his vial, but Girard put out a hand to stay him. “Before you do that, you should know that it’s much more intense than a normal feeding. You’re basically getting a whole human at once, without filtering time put in. It can be…overwhelming.”

  The young man grinned like Girard had just announced there would be strippers coming over, the kind that got completely naked. “I like that idea.” With that, he spun off the cap and opened his mouth. Instead of the half dozen feeding arms that everyone else had, only two rather short ones strained to reach from his mouth. Unsuccessfully. These feeding arms were still very pale, newly grown in the last hour, and quite short. Marcus made a sound of disgust, then held the vial over his tongue so the arms could reach into the glass. Around the vial and busy little arms, he mumbled, “Thith ith embarathing.”

  Lila chuckled and Girard smiled. “Just be ready.”

  When it hit him, his eyes widened and his free arm stiffened on the table, his back going rigid against the chair. His dark eyes dilated then constricted to pinpoints, the pupils almost disappearing in the warm brown of his irises. If Girard didn’t know what that felt like, he might think Marcus was in sudden, excruciating pain.

  He wasn’t. Definitely not.

  When the vial was empty, he pulled it away from his mouth and waited while the arms retracted. There was a sheen of sweat on his brow and he was grinning like a loon. “Oh, my stink-assed deities! That was good!” He looked at the empty vial like it was his new best friend, then at the others in the rack. “You get to feed on this all the time?”

  Lila nodded. “Yep. It’s basically approved drug use. I’m not complaining.”

  Marcus capped the vial then placed it gently in the rack, eyeing it and clearly thinking deep thoughts. He touched the next one in line, then pulled his hand back. “No, I think it best to wait. I need food…the real kind. I’m using up too much of this body’s resources.”

  This was all natural and expected. Girard remembered each of his transitions very well, and it was always a time of caution for their kind. Perhaps not anymore, because they didn’t have to worry about foes or the general lack of basic necessities so common in the past. Since joining the Guardians, Girard had not had to face those hardships, but he remembered the fear during the Middle Ages well enough. Finding humans to feed from without raising suspicion, the weakness, the hiding, the hope that there would be enough regular food to complete the transition. When he’d taken that long-ago girl in order to have his child, he’d done it quickly and crawled into a cellar he’d dug for that purpose, a pile of half-rotting potatoes and a small, smoky fire his only company.

  Times had certainly changed.

 
; Right now, the vampire that was Marcus was in high gear, growing tendrils that would snake throughout the body he now wore. Most of them were finer than a baby’s hair, but those like the feeding arms, the heat dissipation tendrils, the healing arms…all of those were bigger. It took a lot of calories from the host to grow all that. A weak host might not have that much to give, but even a strong one would use up much of their resources. Hunger, as in extreme hunger, was a side effect.

  Lila hopped up from the table and walked over to look at the stove’s timer. “Just a couple more minutes.”

  She leaned a hip against the stove and kicked one foot over the other in her habitual manner. Lila was beautiful in the way a perfectly wholesome person was. Dark hair and eyes, smooth skin, a tall and well-formed body…she was perfect for this day and age. Clearly Marcus thought so too, because he looked up at her, then raised an eyebrow, a sly grin spreading across his young face. Girard knew he was about to say something scandalous. Clearly Lila did too, because she tilted her chin up as if daring him to do just that.

  He totally took the bait.

  “You may be an infant vampire, but that tiny human left me standing like the mast on a sailing ship!” He paused and looked down at his lap. “A big sailing ship. Want to try me out, woman?”

  Lila snorted then shook her head. “I’m taken and I don’t date old men.”

  Marcus screwed up his face, but it was obvious by the twinkle in his eye that he was messing with them and having a good time doing so. “With this sour-faced boy? What a waste.”

  “No,” she said, her grin growing. She held up her hand about the level of her shoulder. “I found a professor about this high and it makes me dizzy to be near him. I think he’s the one.”

  This was a surprise, even to Girard, and he shifted in his chair to get a better look at her. She had to mean Doran. He’d thought she was merely reacting to his fertility at the picnic area. In the days since, Girard knew she’d been talking to him on the phone, but he’d assumed it was related to their questions and her natural fascination with their origins. Clearly, he’d been wrong about that.