The Bottom Rung

by Sam Hall

  I’d heard Marley’s voice shift when he was in full persuasion mode. It was difficult to make the words out, as if didn’t matter. Rather all you took in was the pulsating, punishing intent behind it. His sounded weirdly distorted, like it was coming from far away. Lyra’s, mine, was something else altogether.

  The words rumbled and stirred the wind like an incoming storm, the intent sweeping in. I could see Rohan’s body flinch at the impact. He slipped from his throne and on to the floor, his eyes wide as if he couldn’t believe he was doing this, but unable to stop it. His eyes flared at this, not with rebellion as I’d feared, but with a terrible intense desire. His fangs poked out from behind his lips and I was, unfortunately, able to see just how much his body was enjoying this.

  “Kiss my foot,” we said and his lips instantly went to one instep. He laboured over the job, putting every bit of the desire he now felt into the act. I fought the urge to laugh, that probably wasn’t especially goddess-like, but it was actually quite pleasant. I watched the muscles of his back move as he shifted.

  Over to you, Lyra said, but if I were you, I’d do something to tie this king to me. When your will’s not beating down on him, you need something to keep him loyal. My eyes flicked to the wide-eyed albinos who’d crept back down the dais.

  “You’re going to come,” I said. I was talking, but the same massive weight of power accompanied the words. “Come so hard, so intensely and for so long you’ll have nothing left in you. This will be the most intensely pleasurable sexual experience you’ve ever had, bar none. The sensations of it will echo inside your body for hours. You’ll feel aftershocks of that pleasure all day, reminding you of me and your loyalty to me. I am your goddess, you adore me, will do anything to please me and your first task is to stop the incursion into werewolf turf today. You will no longer send Bennett and Gavin into the front line or danger. They are my most favoured. Do you understand?”

  He couldn’t answer, having fallen face down on the floor, his hips twitching helplessly as he obeyed. You could see each wave of orgasm move through him, his buttocks growing tighter and tighter. His skin glistened with sweat, his fingers clawing at the stone as he curved backwards, another orgasm obviously building. His long, almost painful moan echoed through the room as he ground his cock into the floor. That almost looks worth giving a go, I said to Lyra with faint amusement.

  It’ll be quite painful towards the end, she said, though a fitting way to ensure his loyalty. A vampire’s coin is blood or pleasure, and you cannot let him take your blood. But orgasms that go on and on and on. That’s your birthright as a woman.

  I’ve always been more a one and done, at least for a little bit, I said.

  You associate sex too much with fear to relax enough, she said. I can work on that.

  Finally, the vampire king rolled over onto his back, his chest a mess of sticky fluid. “Make it so, Rohan. Call for your lieutenants and make the order,” I said, watching for the flutter of recognition in his slitted eyes. I walked out, the sound of his hoarse cry causing the minions to rush in as I left.

  17

  Lethe

  Top of the Royal Spire building

  Ground Zero

  The Quarter

  So, what now? Lyra asked as we sat on the top of the old Spire. You could see all of Meridian City spread before you from here, the Wall just a thin line rather than an overwhelming symbol of our oppression. Those boys of yours are currently free of employment due to your decision. Why don’t we summon them back to the house and try some of my suggestions out?

  You just want to suck and fuck, I said.

  I am the vampire goddess; sex, blood and political games are my bread and butter.

  Then let’s focus on the latter, I said. How do we destabilise the other side?

  In front of me was a mind map of what I knew to be the power structures of Meridian City, all written on the concrete in chalk that Lyra had conjured. Media, Prime Minister, Sasha, Hesse, military, I said, chewing on the sandwich in my hand. What do we tackle first?

  What’s the role of the military? Lyra said.

  The soldiers, they enforce everything the government puts in place. They’re souped up on the blood of really old vampires. During the Revolution, they carted the most powerful off to the scaffold and sucked them dry. They don’t turn, I’ve never been able to work out why. That’d be something Hesse has done to them. Basically, they have all the power of the old guard vamps yet are completely obedient to Hesse, and supposedly the government. Every uprising, every conflict, has been put down by the soldiers.

  And their power is twofold, whatever technology gifts them- from this Hesse, and the blood. The blood is the easiest part of the equation. It’s a thing, stored, no doubt under lock and key. If you destroyed that, it would be interesting to see how they operated after. It’s a finite resource that can’t be replaced. There are no vampires now of the calibre of those that they slew, Lyra said.

  You sound sad.

  Of course I am. I was present when some of them were turned, thousands of years ago. Some may have been my very first acolytes.

  Did you turn them, like they do vampires now?

  Yes, of course, they came from the albinos. The quirks that mean you’re born with no pigment also came with genetic flexibility we hadn’t seen in other beings. All of the gods experimented with your forebears, it’s how all the anomalous races came about.

  Always with the experimentation, I thought with a sigh.

  Let us take back this resource and strike a blow at your enemies. It was stolen from my people, let’s steal it back.

  Which was how I came to be on the opposite side of the Wall for the first time in my life, invisible. I paused for a moment, looking around. The houses nearest weren’t much to look at. I assume that this close to the Wall wasn’t exactly a sought-after address. I breathed in deep, expecting something to be different, the air clearer and sweeter, scented like roses or something amazing. Instead, it was the same cool, crisp air that smelled of smog and just plain old air. My heart beat rapidly as I looked back and I suppressed a shiver. I’d made this decision, consciously, and still I felt like I’d done something wrong. Why do we need to find the blood? I said to Lyra. You got me a clean pair of jeans and a sandwich without finding them this morning.

  It’s because I made them, she said. I could make you some bags of potent blood with some effort, but that wouldn’t stop Hesse from using his supply. We want to strip the enemy of his resources, so we need to find and take them.

  So, what’s stopping us? I said. You were able to find Rohan and the boys without much effort.

  I’m not sure. Somehow, and I don’t know why, I’m being blocked. I'm searching every street and building right now, looking for... ah! A dead spot! That has to be significant. Hold on, this might be dizzying.

  She wasn’t joking, we moved at lightning speed up the streets, stopping for a moment so I’d get a disorientating view of humans: driving, walking, tugging their kids along, bickering with partners, kissing- humans bloody everywhere- then off we’d go again, until we finally came to a stop out front of a large warehouse behind an immense barbed wire fence. Looks suitably ominous, I said. How’re we getting in?

  A truck rumbled up to the gate, the driver leaning out the window to get his eyes scanned. Next moment, I was following it in.

  “Alright soldiers, make your way to the foyer to begin your induction process,” the driver said as a stream of people got out of the back of the truck, all dressed in khakis. The men and women obeyed, going in two neat lines, me walking beside them. Men and women wearing long white coats greeted them and passed out clipboards and pens.

  This is worth staying for, Lyra said. This could give us a glimpse of their processes.

  I peered over the shoulders of the people. At the top of the form, it said Augmented Soldier Program admission. Each wrote down their names, birthdates and medical history. “Smith,” one of the white-coated women said and a tall guy
came forward and handed her his clipboard. “Come this way.” They walked down the hall together. “I’ve had a look at your file, you look like you’re a very good fit for the program, soldier. You’re the third generation to apply, your father and grandfather distinguished themselves in the war with Cardinia.”

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Well, come in and we’ll start the initiation process. Take a seat.” I followed them into a small room. She sat behind a desk and pulled a wad of papers out. “This is your contract and disclaimer to sign. Now,” she watched the man reach for the pen, “because you’re all so keen to get to the dotted line, I’ve been asked to discuss the most important ones with you. You’re aware of the clause that states there will be no relationships outside the barracks for your ten-year term? No girl or boyfriends, no friends, no family.”

  “None to speak of romantically, ma’am and my mates know the score. Plenty of them are coming through in the next few intakes.”

  “That's good. What you do in the barracks is your business, but relationships with civilians are strictly prohibited. Now, in a moment you’ll be implanted with a compliance chip that will be removed at the end of ten years or if you fail induction. It allows the state and Hesse Corp to control and direct your actions during your contract. You’ll be an incredibly powerful unit on your own and devastating in a group. It is a precaution we take to keep the populace safe.”

  “I understand.”

  “Good, good, well, sign away and then I’ll take your vitals so we can fit your chip.”

  Should we go look somewhere else? I said as the doctor took the man’s blood pressure.

  I think it wise to follow this one. If they’re going to fit him with a pump, they’re going to need blood. Saves us stumbling around blindly, Lyra said.

  “OK, that's all within normal parameters. Now,” the doc picked up a silver gun like the one used on me at outreach. "This will sting a bit but the compliance software will take over almost immediately. Any last questions, Mr Smith?”

  “No, ma'am.”

  “Alright then, see you in ten years.”

  The doctor moved behind the man, pushing his head forward and then placing the muzzle of the tagging gun against his spine. His hands screwed up into balls on his thighs, which went limp at the dull click of the gun. The doctor picked up the paperwork, flicking through several pages before finding what she was looking for. “Number 28367, stand.” The man got to his feet in a smooth movement. “Good, now take this needle,” she passed him an uncapped hypodermic, “insert it into the meaty part of your bicep.” I fought the urge to hiss as the man did so, not even flinching as it went in. “Excellent, let's get you into the fitting room. Down the hall, second door to the right.”

  “How's yours looking?” one of the other scientists asked as we walked in the door of a very large room.

  “Good, good,” the woman replied, “has about 20% wolf genetics so is likely to be a good candidate. And yours?”

  “About 12% with some recessive albinism, so difficult to tell. Half the time they’re our strongest fighters, the other half are either unstable, comatose or something worse.”

  “Hmm, yes, well, some of the hybrids have produced some interesting results. That one that led to the development of the antiarrhythmic drug was quite useful.”

  “Up until she was put down, yes. Now, let’s see what we’ve got here. Jones, Williams, start fitting the pumps. I’ll go get the blood. What do we want to try? The Countess? She was fast, but not that strong.”

  “Sounds like a good choice. The batch on Lord Grenfell’s were completely uncontrollable and had to be put down. I’d rather not repeat that,” the woman said, unpacking pumps from a large metal cupboard. “Find a seat,” she said to all of the blank-eyed soldiers that had walked in and each moved to obey.

  Time to find out where the blood is, Lyra said. I followed behind the stocky man who’d been talking to the other doctor, his white coat flapping as he walked briskly past offices and closed doors. At the end of the hall was a large metal door much like those on the Wall in the Quarter. He bent down to get his eye scanned and then stepped through the opening door, me hot on his heels. Inside a clerk looked up and then said, “Good morning, Dr Niels.”

  “Morning Grant, just getting some bags for the new recruits.”

  “Of course, I’ll sign them out for you.”

  “Countess of Edmonton, her bags are in the left-hand store on level 3?” the doctor asked.

  The clerk did a quick search on her computer, fingers clicking on the keys. “Yep, on the far right-hand shelf.”

  “Thank you, Grant.” The man walked the short distance it took to leave the clerk’s desk and arrive at an open elevator. He stepped on the platform, I jumped over onto it, and then he input his destination in the control panel. The elevator whirred as we dropped down. Initially, all I could see was the steel shaft, then the walls opened up into brightly lit, well-refrigerated rooms that seemed to contain shelf after shelf of bagged blood.

  I can’t believe it, Lyra said, her voice little more than a whisper. I knew they’d all gone, but I thought they’d gone down fighting. How…?

  Most surrendered to protect family and friends, but it didn’t work, I replied. From what we learned; they just bled the families afterwards. In the textbooks, it was used as an example of the stupidity of the anomalous. Any that were strong went to the scaffold, those left were moved into the Quarter.

  This is a bigger weapon than we thought, Lyra said. This, this is a store of the different strains of the symbiote that manifested in the different vampire families. If they take it in the Quarter, you’ll have whole new breeds of vampires pop up. Those that can fly, disappear into clouds of smoke, teleport. It's hideous and a treasure.

  Yeah? And how are we going to get it back? Or store it?

  Now that I know where it is, I can move it and create a facility, you just have to tell me where.

  Most of it should be outside the Quarter, I said, as long as you can retrieve it.

  Good idea, keeping it in the Quarter where the humans can find it creates a vulnerability. It also helps maintain deniability, Lyra said. I’ll set up a small storage facility at the boys’ house, for emergencies.

  The elevator came to a stop and the man got his blood. He signed out each bag, scanning and signing for each one. The clerk approved his withdrawal, allowing him to open the door and leave. When he got back to the room with the new recruits, he said, “Get them into the observation room and attach the tubes to their pumps.” We watched as each soldier walked robotically into a large glassed off section of the room. Each moved near to the glass, picking up the thin hoses that were threaded through it all along the room. “Lockdown the room, then hook up the Countess,” the man said to what appeared to be two orderlies. He and the woman doc went to the console at the back of the room, and grabbed yet another set of clipboards, pens poised. The man picked up a headset from the desk and placed it on his head, giving it a tap. The sound reverberated around the room. “When you hear the bell, initiate running endurance sequence.”

  Blood was sucked up through the lines, past the glass and into the pumps on the soldiers. Once each one was filled, a bell sounded and the floor seemed to shift under them like a conveyor belt was dragging them away. Instantly they turned to the right and began to run, maintaining their spot in the line. The doctors ticked off different things on their sheets, consulted the monitors on the table closest to them which apparently recorded blood pressure and oxygen levels. Then the conveyor belt seemed to rise to the right, and the runners picked up speed, now sprinting uphill. “Stop number 2377, 3499 and 17665,” the female doctor said, “and take a step back.” They did so, staring out through the glass, panting hard. As they went, more and more were benched.

  “Your boy’s looking good. They like a good run, those doggies, don’t they?” the man said.

  “Can’t beat that extra lift, can you? Makes the Quarter seem worth the ob
scene amount of money it costs to keep. Most of them should be gassed at birth, but then every now and then, something useful comes out of them.”

  “Wives all over the city can thank the vamps for their cold cream and their husband’s erections. Well, it looks like yours and a couple of the ones with albino are going to top of the class for endurance. Let’s break them up for some hand to hand,” said the man and he bent down to speak into the microphone again. “Running is to cease, 3, 2, 1, now.”

  The soldiers instantly stopped; the only movement was their chest as they panted. “Separate into groups of two based on who is closest to you and stand next to your partner. Good.” The man pressed a red button down on the console in front of him and glass partitions lowered from the ceiling to box each couple in. When the glass was in place the man said, “Initiate hand to hand fighting, sparring protocols. No biting, gouging, scratching or other serious injuries.” Each of them fell into a fighting stance, circling their partner, then striking out with hands, feet, knees and elbows. The doctors wrote notes as the soldiers fought, eyes flicking from one couple to the next.