by C. T. Phipps
Rage.
Betrayal.
Murderous intent.
Oh shit.
Thoth opened the door, only to have a steel bolt bury itself in his shoulder. The bolt was covered in blood runes that caused him to fall to one knee. I could feel the power of the runes from where I stood. On the other side of the door, I saw Melissa holding a crossbow in hand while David was on the ground, clutching his stomach.
“You're not putting me down!” Melissa hissed, baring her fangs.
Enhanced hearing must be one of her gifts. “See, this is why you don't keep a bunch of antique weapons on your wall.”
Fatimah, however, wasn't listening, as she was too furious at Thoth's injury. Turning into a literal shadow, she flickered across the room and was suddenly behind Melissa. That was when Melissa lifted the crossbow and attempted to use it as a cross to hold her at bay. Fatimah actually took a step back before smashing it to pieces with a single blow of her fist. The assassin then grabbed Melissa in a headlock and bared her fangs to rip out her throat.
“Stop!” I said, surprising myself by stepping forward with my hands raised. “Thoth isn't dead. We also need her to find this crazy murder hobo vampire you're looking for.”
Fatimah didn't put away her fangs. “She's a murderer of our kind.”
Melissa struggled in Fatimah's grip but didn't seem to make any progress. I could see why when I looked and saw that Fatimah's shadow had reached up to grab her by the legs and was holding her in place.
Freaky.
“Maybe it's time we proved we're not the monsters she thought we were,” I said, feeling like an idiot for appealing to a vampire's sense of morality. Still, I didn't have any other ideas about how to get her to stop. “Besides, she's our kind now.”
Surprisingly, Fatimah finally put away her fangs. “Order her not to do us any further harm and I won't kill her.”
“I don't think—” I started to say.
Fatimah's eyes silenced all dissent.
“Right,” I corrected myself. “Melissa, I command you not to try and murder these people who could rip you to pieces with their eyes closed. Also to get a better attitude, because I just went to pretty elaborate lengths to try to help your ass, while you were part of a group that would set me on fire.”
This actually seemed to have an effect on Melissa. She started to calm down and stopped struggling, looking confused now more than anything. It seemed that her feeding on my blood during her transformation really had given me power over her.
Perhaps as much as her creator.
“Ask her who her creator is,” Fatimah said.
“She doesn't remember,” I insisted.
“Make her!” Fatimah's voice let me know she was only seconds from ripping her head off.
“I'll check her mind,” I said, not sure how to do that but hoping I could wing it on pure instinct.
Putting my hand out toward Melissa and bracing myself against the floor, I contemplated the images I'd picked up from Melissa's mind before on the casino floor and—this sounded dirty even to me—attempted to probe her.
Older vampires could learn your entire life story and your ATM card number from a causal glance, but I wasn't exactly talented at this. Four years of vampirism had consisted primarily of living off summoned animals and working a steady series of dead-end jobs that seemed to get progressively worse rather than better.
Entering into Melissa's mind, I found myself surrounded by images I couldn't really sort through. My blood was serving as a sort of anchor for my presence, and it was infused into her very bones even as it had merged with the blood of her creator. Trying to concentrate on the images I'd seen, I was only deluged by more.
A baby sister.
A bloody car wreck.
Training with swords.
Training with guns.
Training with explosives.
Damn.
As I waded through her memories and thoughts, I found myself banging up against some sort of wall, which I recognized as the kind of barrier other vampires erected around the memories of mortals and sometimes other supernaturals. I'd never heard of it being used against another vampire, though. It should have been impossible. Reluctantly, I focused on my bond with Melissa and pushed forward.
“Ah!” Melissa cried out, the look on her face one of pure agony.
“Sorry, girl.”
Fear.
Anxiety.
Pain.
Confusion.
Running away in terror.
I saw a tall Nordic-looking man with black hair, a goatee, a ponytail, muscles covering his body from head to toe, and fangs. He was dressed in a brown trench coat, black turtleneck sweater, and blue jeans, with a sword on his back.
Fangs.
His fangs.
“Does Renaud look like a Caucasian mullet-wearing Dwayne Johnson?” I paused, not really expecting an answer.
“Yes,” Thoth said, surprising me by getting up and pulling the crossbow bolt out of his shoulder. It had just barely missed his heart, which was good shooting given the second she'd had to aim. “I see the image in your mind, Peter, and that's Renaud all right.”
“Great,” I muttered, knowing that had virtually guaranteed her a death sentence. Not that she had much chance after trying to kill Thoth.
That was when my probing of Melissa's mind revealed something else. A more complete memory of what had been blocked appeared in my head. It was a weird sensation remembering yourself as someone else, especially another sex, but in that moment I was Melissa.
I remembered driving down the back roads around New Detroit in a 2016 SUV that had been bought by the Human Rights League for her with the tithes of members. Melissa had always felt a little guilty about the lavish spending of the group on its agents, but right now was just grateful to have transportation she could take. Her thoughts were muddled and I couldn't quite follow them as she pulled into the Qwik & Shop to use the bathroom. One thing I knew, though—she was desperate and terrified.
I—well, Melissa—remembered washing my hands before turning around and seeing Renaud in the room. He wasn't immediately going for my throat, though, and it stunned me, Peter, to realize that I, Melissa, knew him. OK, this whole flashback/mind-joining thing was really starting to mess with my sense of reality.
Melissa knew him.
She pulled out her cross necklace. “Stay back, monster.”
Renaud shook his head, stepping forward. His voice was a thick baritone with the generic European accent many older vampires tended to adopt when speaking English. “I thought we were past this, my beloved. Even if I was not blessed by God with immunity to his touch, I am too old for this to have an effect. Besides, why would you turn a cross to me?”
Melissa remembered several passionate nights with him.
Oh hell no!
Ugh!
I almost broke my connection right there.
Melissa, however, remained resolved. “That was before I realized what kind of person you are. What you're planning to do in New Detroit.”
Renaud's expression darkened. “New Detroit is an embodiment of everything vile and corrupt in the Modern World. It is a pure expression of the crass materialism and godlessness into which your civilization has allowed itself to fall. The perversities and degeneracies may climax in the acceptance of vampires, but it has many other villainies that make it worthy of destruction.”
“You intend to blow up a casino,” Melissa said. “Kill hundreds of people.”
“No.” Renaud shook his head. “Thousands.”
Melissa took a step back.
Renaud transfixed her with his gaze. “If you would betray the cause, dearest flower, then I fear your soul is already lost. I would give you a quick death, but I cannot allow the possibility that necromancers would extract your secrets. Better still you’d be among the damned who will be caught in the crossfire when humanity realizes what horrors they have let through their door.”
He erased her memo
ry.
Then drank her dry.
Forcibly.
Savoring every bit of her fear as he took sexual delight, fondling her and forcing her to feel joy even as he killed her.
Then rebirthed her.
Shit.
Our link broke and my head pounded. It was the first headache I'd had since my transformation. Well, not hunger-related, at least.
“Damn, girl,” I said, shaking my head. “That's some fucked-up shit.”
Melissa looked up, a terrified expression on her face. “You need to get your security down to the parking garage immediately.”
“Why?” Fatimah asked.
“I didn't remember why I was here until now. I was coming to warn you.” Melissa's expression was horrified. “The casino Renaud is going to blow up is the Apophis. He’s using the Human Rights League to do it.”
Chapter Seven
I remember a day when my father had been counting on a payoff from an investment that had involved a lot of shady white-collar stuff. He’d thought he was the con man rather than the mark. Thoth's reaction reminded me of his when he found out the truth.
“Gods damned, son of a bitch!” Thoth shouted, going to his desk and then slamming his fists down on the top of it.
Cracking the stone.
“Damn,” I said, staring at him. “Why can't I do that?”
Thoth wasn't finished, though. “This is what I get for trying to build an accord with the humans. All they can do is eat, breed, kill, and die. They can't bring themselves to imagine a life better than their plebeian dull little lives unless it’s force fed to them by Fox News or reality TV! When someone tries to show them a better way, do you know what they do? They lash out! Even if it means their destruction! Damn them and damn the horse their pee-brained monkey-brained bodies rode in on.”
“Okay,” I lifted my hands, trying to calm him down. “That was enormously racist.”
This was an ugly side to my creator and one I was increasing starting to believe was recent rather than something he'd been hiding. Since I'd become a vampire, New Detroit had expanded and done wonders for human-undead relations, but I wasn't so sure he could see that.
I couldn't imagine what it had to be like for the guy at the top dealing with all of the trials and tribulations to keep it all running, especially since so many bigots were determined to tear it all down. It made me almost sympathetic enough to forget how many bodies he'd had to bury, figurative and literal, to get where he was.
Thoth growled. “Human aren't a race! They're a disease. A disease the gods have decided to curse vampires to be unable to live without.”
“Channeling a little Agent Smith there, T, and it's not a good look for you,” I said, shaking my head. “Besides, it's a vampire who is behind this.”
“If the Human Rights League does any damage to my casino, I'm going to hunt down every single member of that insipid organization and feed them to hellhounds.”
“That's a fair cop,” I said, admitting I'd probably be reacting every bit as badly if they were messing with my people. “The thing is, we have to find out when they're going to make their strike at us and stop it.”
Thoth looked up. “Really, Peter, I hadn't guessed. What's next, telling me we're going to have to kill Renaud? Avoid verbena and crosses? Drink blood every night?”
“No need to be sarcastic.”
“There's always a need to be sarcastic.” Thoth snorted as he turned to the laptop on his desk and started typing away on it.
Fatimah, surprisingly, released Melissa and then helped David to his feet. My servant was a bit dazed and confused, but that was his normal state so I wasn't too concerned. The fact that he politely thanked Fatimah and dusted himself off told me I needed to remove my order for him to be quiet and respectful, though.
In an hour or two.
“Do you know when they're supposed to detonate this bomb?” Fatimah asked, now much more conciliatory to Melissa.
Melissa shook her head. “I only know Renaud managed to convince the other heads of the HRL to assist in the project, and they were going to strike soon. They locked me out of the loop when they realized I not only wasn't interested in going along with their plan but wanted to actively stop them.”
“And yet you still were banging Osama Bin Knightly,” I said, not believing she'd been involved with that guy.
Melissa looked at me in contempt. I'd clearly struck a nerve, but I felt ashamed for throwing that at her. It was none of my business whom she slept with.
Even if they were terrorists.
“That is a terrible insult,” David said, finally speaking. “I mean, it doesn't even make any sense.”
“How are you speaking? I ordered you to shut up,” I said, upset.
David shrugged his shoulders. “It wore off.”
“I hate being the low man on the vampire totem pole,” I hissed, clenching my fangs. “It's like Basic Training all over again.”
“They're here,” Thoth said, still staring at his computer.
“What?” I said, walking over to Thoth's desk and looking over his shoulder.
Thoth had tapped into the security feeds of the Apophis's expansive security system, and I got a sight of the bottom level of the underground parking garage. There were a half-dozen white Blood & Wine delivery vans down below with armed men moving between them. A facial recognition scanner was pulling up each of their identities, and it was one HRL nutbag after another.
“Shouldn't your security guys have picked up on this?” I asked, watching the HRL terrorists unload a couple of staked vampires from the backs of their trucks.
“Yes, they should have,” Thoth said, growling. “These are my secondary hidden cameras away from the main ones, though. They've compromised the original ones. They're running a loop of earlier footage.”
Melissa closed her eyes, looking guilt-stricken. “They intend to blow up the place and make it look like a feud between Old Ones. They hope it'll turn people against the Vampire Nation and get all of your special rights repealed.”
“Which will rapidly result in thousands of vampire deaths,” Thoth said, continuing to look at the security footage. “Ingenious.”
“Shouldn't you be evacuating the casino?” I asked, frowning. “What with the whole ‘terrorists in the basement’ thing?”
Thoth looked up to Fatimah. “Get a show going outside the building. Have someone shapeshift into Freddie Mercury or something. Offer it free and get as many people as possible away from the probable blast radius.”
Fatimah frowned. “I'd prefer to deal with those fools downstairs, but I will do as you command. Come with me, slave.”
“Do you mean me?” David asked.
Fatimah glared, then walked to the elevator.
“Yes, ma'am,” David squeaked before following her.
“Freddie Mercury's been dead since ’91,” I said.
“That's what most people think,” Thoth said, rising from his desk. “We can't risk people believing the Apophis and New Detroit are vulnerable to terrorism.”
“People’s lives are at stake!” Melissa said, regardless of the hypocrisy.
“So is this city,” Thoth said, staring at her. “The only reason people aren't all dragging vampires out into the sun or dousing us with gasoline like your group wants to do is because of a concentrated hundred-and-ten-year plan to make us palatable to mankind. From Bram Stoker to that Meyer woman, we have been subtly brainwashing humanity into believing our race could live in peace with yours. New Detroit is symbolic of that, and if it fails, then all of that will be for nothing.”
“Getting some mixed signals here, chief,” I said, not at all happy with his decision. “Are you for or against humans?”
Thoth frowned. “Sometimes I wonder that myself. Peter, I need your help.”
“That must have hurt for you to ask.”
“More than you know. I released you from my service when I made you, but it was your choice to abandon New Detroit.”
“You banished me.”
“Temporarily. I was protecting you,” Thoth said. “If it didn't look like I was punishing you for what you did, they would have come down on you harder.”
I clenched my fists. “You know what Eaton did to me. He deserved to die.”
“He will,” Thoth said. “But one must be patient with one's enemies.”
“Screw patience.”
Melissa cleared her throat. “Uh, guys?”
I had actually forgotten about her. “Oh, hey, yeah! Uh, this is awkward, but we're going to go murder a bunch of your people now.”
Melissa blinked at the casualness of my statement and I wondered about that myself. Tonight was bringing out my inner psychopath.
“Can't you guys just call the police?” Melissa asked. “I mean, you own them here, right?”
Thoth gave a half-snort. “It runs into the same problem as evacuating the building. Besides, even rich vampires are still vampires to the authorities. No, better to handle this in-house.”
“Besides, aren't you being a wee bit hypocritical?” I asked, going over to the rack and weapons to choose. “Why didn't you call the police, FBI, or the Department of Supernatural Security?”
Melissa fidgeted a bit. “I didn't think you'd believe me. The Human Rights League has called in fake bomb threats to hurt supernatural businesses before.”
I shook my head. “Real piece of work you are, lady.”
Thoth got up from his seat. “We still have a few minutes from the looks of things. We need to kill every single one of these bastards.”
“Fatimah would be great for that,” I said, picking up a TriStar Cobra Mag Pump, the bandolier of grenades, plus two pistols I holstered at my side. “But I'm good.”
Thoth, meanwhile, got himself an M16 covered in blood runes. “I'd rather have Fatimah down there by my side as well, but if we're killed there, I'd like for my lineage to survive.”