His body flooding with endorphins at the prospect of regaining some of his lost strength, Morbius leaned forward. Just as his teeth touched the man’s neck, however, another burst of pain erupted in his stomach—the worst one yet. Morbius gasped, pulling away slightly just as his assailant pulled his fist free and once again planted it on Michael’s face.
The other attackers surged forward as Morbius stumbled along the wall. He reached the corner and attempted to keep moving, but there was nowhere else to go. Fists rained down on him, and then someone held out an object, jabbing him in the gut. Electricity coursed through his body again, but this time the device wasn’t pulled back. It was held against his body and waves of intense pain radiated out, making the poison in his system seem like a minor bruise in comparison.
Morbius screamed.
Another electrical device was placed against him, and then another. He had never experienced pain like this, not in his entire life, and yet still he stood. He swiped blindly at his attackers but landed no blows. He couldn’t even see them anymore, could only see the flashing light from the damn television. On it, a young couple stared at each other, apparently in love. Slowly their lips came closer, and met.
Martine… Morbius thought. I’m sorry.
The darkness fought for control, and finally won.
Morbius fell to the floor, unconscious.
CHAPTER SIX
“HE’S GONE.”
“What do you mean?” Amanda asked. “Where?”
“I gave him Fabian’s address and told him never to come back,” Liz answered, her forehead wrinkling in confusion. The situation seemed pretty obvious to her. Morbius wasn’t just an abusive jerk, he was also… you know… a vampire. Amanda should have been thanking her.
After the creep had hurled himself out of the window, Liz had checked on her friend and found her passed out from exhaustion. Poor thing. She’d repaired the damn window, again, then caught a few hours of shut-eye herself. When she woke up, she made herself a huge omelet and a full pot of coffee. She had a day full of errands, a couple of auditions, and then another night at the bar.
When Amanda had finally come out of her bedroom, she was surprised that Michael wasn’t sleeping the day away on the mattress across the room from her, like he usually did.
“Crap,” Amanda said to Liz’s news. She headed over to the door and put on her shoes.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Liz said, annoyed.
“Nothing, I’m sorry.” Amanda stopped to look at her. “It’s not you. It’s just…”
“What, Amanda?”
“Morbius isn’t normal…”
“You think?”
“He isn’t normal,” Amanda repeated, as if that made her point. “But he isn’t evil. He says the worst things to me sometimes and trust me, I’ve thought about just walking away from him a million times, but he cares… he cares about me. He’s not capable of showing it—not really—but every now and then there’s this different side of him that comes out. It’s usually when he’s talking about Martine, and you can feel the pain radiating off him, and it’s just heartbreaking.
“But it’s also little things, little gestures that he does,” she continued. “And he’s saved my life more than once. I know it doesn’t make any sense, Liz, but nothing in my life makes much sense anymore. My mom, my dad, Justin, my sister. I mean… honestly? Michael is probably the least messed up thing I have going on right now.”
Liz stared at her friend, and then burst into laughter. It had an edge, though.
“Do you know how crazy that sounds?” she said. “A ‘living vampire’ is the most normal thing in your life.”
“I know!” Amanda said, and she started laughing, too, heading back over to the table. “Trust me, I’m not exactly happy about it.”
Her words caused Liz to soften.
“So… what are you gonna do?”
“I should go over to Fabian’s place, and see if Michael’s there,” Amanda replied. “See if I can help. It’s what he would do for me.” Tying the second shoe, she added, “Can you give me the address?”
“No,” Liz said, and Amanda stared. “Fabian lives in a pretty bad neighborhood. The area’s improving, but not his part of it. Even during the day it’s dangerous. Michael’s a big boy, to say the least. He can handle himself.” Amanda started to protest, but Liz cut her off with a raised hand.
“Trust me on this. I’m right, and I’ve got a ton of stuff to do. So you chill out here for the day, do some digging on that cult of yours, and then meet up with me back here later. I’m only working the evening shift today. We’ll drink a bunch of Long Island Ice Teas, like we did at Tommy DeGarro’s party after Junior Prom.”
“Oh my god, I forgot all about that,” Amanda said, her face immediately going red. “Was that the night we stole his little sisters’ tiny bikes and rode them down that huge hill across the street from his house?”
“That was exactly that night,” Liz said. “I think I still have grass stains on my knees from wiping out over and over again at the bottom. But you wouldn’t stop! You kept making me drag that My Pretty Pony bike up the hill over and over and over again!”
Amanda laughed and sat down. “Give me a break. You loved it.”
Liz looked at her best friend and smiled.
“You’re right. I did.”
* * *
MORBIUS’ EYES fluttered open, then they closed. Then opened again.
There was something covering his entire body, some kind of thick cloth, and his arms and legs were bound at the wrists and ankles by what felt like some kind of metal. Tentatively he flexed against his restraints, careful not to draw attention to the fact that he was awake, but he could tell that the metal was formidable. He could lift his arms, but not pull them apart. In his weakened condition, he doubted that he had the strength to break free, much less get the jump on his captors.
He struggled to clear his head.
The events in Fabian’s apartment started to reemerge in his mind, like the pieces of a puzzle slowly slipping back together. He could still feel the poison pumping through his veins, but its intensity was finally starting to fade. Between that and his overwhelming hunger, Morbius felt hollowed out, a shell of a human—or whatever he was now—yet he was determined to escape.
When he swiveled his head slightly, the cloth covering it moved as well, revealing a small hole through which he could narrowly see.
He was being carried by two people, one of whom he could make out, at least partially. They were hauling him head-first, so he could see the man at his feet. The other he could hear, steady breathing coming from just above his head. Wherever they were, it was dark except for an occasional muddy light that passed overhead as they walked.
Strong odors assailed his senses, such that he couldn’t sort them out. The air was cool and damp. There were distant sounds that he thought he recognized. With concentration, he put the sounds and smells together. They were underground. A subway tunnel. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but it felt like it was still the middle of the night.
“How much farther?” the man at his feet panted.
“Almost there,” the other answered, less out of breath. “The door’s up here on the right. Hurry up before we get flattened.”
“Did you see the look on that guy’s face, back at the platform?” the first remarked. “Fricking priceless.”
“Shut up and keep moving,” the man above Morbius growled.
After another minute, they stopped and a metal door creaked open with a rusty screech. They started moving again. As they made their way through, the man at his feet stumbled slightly and lost his grip, causing Morbius’ body to lean toward his captor. He used the momentum to lunge forward, headbutting the man directly in the nose and causing the cloth to pull away. Blood burst from the man’s face. He fell back onto the subway tracks, and didn’t move.
“What the hell?” the man behind Morbius said, letting go.
His hands and
feet still bound, Michael attempted to stay upright and twist around. He barely dodged a fist thrown at his face, and found himself staring at the large man with the buzz cut from Fabian’s apartment. A disquieting smile spread across his assailant’s face.
“I was hoping I’d get another shot at you.”
In response, Michael smashed the man across the face with his bound fists, a spray of blood arcing out into the air and falling down into darkness. As the man shook off the blow, Morbius attempted to retain his balance and took in his surroundings. They stood at the top of a steep set of metal stairs which descended into blackness. With his preternatural vision, he could see a great distance, and the height was dizzying, even for someone who was accustomed to gliding above cities.
Behind them, he could hear the rumbling of a train.
The big man landed a nasty blow to Michael’s stomach, knocking the wind from his lungs. He’d let himself be distracted, and exhaustion wasn’t helping. The man brought up a knee and it connected with Morbius’ face, pushing him back to the brink of unconsciousness. He fell on top of his other captor, who was still knocked out.
A glaring light appeared in the corner of his eye, the light of a subway train barreling toward them.
The large man loomed overhead, that cruel smile still etched onto his face.
“They told me to bring you in alive, but they didn’t say what shape you had to be in,” he said with sadistic glee. Morbius took this in, and made a decision. If this was the moment he died, then it would be on his terms.
He launched himself forward, hearing behind him the sickening crunch of the unconscious man as the train struck him. Morbius hammered into the large man, his momentum sending them through the metal railing. Their bodies careened into the yawning darkness, seeming to hang there for a second.
The two men fell.
Time seemed to stand still. As the light from above drifted away and they plunged into darkness, the metal staircase whipped past. Morbius marveled at the surreal beauty of the situation. The stairs reflected the diminishing light, while the sound of the train rattled and then faded away entirely. Echoing the silence, the shadows swallowed them.
His reverie was interrupted by yet another blow to the face. The man continued to fight despite their impending doom, which was vaguely impressive. Morbius was too weak, and the man was too heavy to attempt any kind of gliding.
The pitch darkness only lasted a few moments, and then light appeared from below. The ground had to be approaching. Fast. Yet the man didn’t seem to notice, just kept pounding on Morbius’ face, pushing him closer and closer to unconsciousness. Still he took the abuse, used the man’s clinging, violent embrace as an opportunity to adjust their bodies as they rushed toward the ground below.
“Was it worth it?” Morbius whispered.
“Freak,” the brute replied, pulling his fist back.
The last thing he ever did.
Morbius and the man landed with a horrific impact, his captor’s body careening up and then violently back down. The sound of breaking bones reverberated out into the dark space, blood spurted from his ears and nose and mouth. Morbius took a fair share of the impact, as well, grunting in pain and rolling away until he slammed into a wall, coming to a stop in a crumpled heap of agony and exhaustion.
After a long moment, he got shakily to his feet and looked around. The impact had knocked loose his bindings. He was in a small hallway, high stone walls reaching up into the darkness, where he could faintly hear another subway car rumbling by. There was light, not a lot but enough, though he couldn’t see where it came from.
Morbius was hurt. Badly. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d endured such damage, but he was also free. He’d defeated his would-be abductors, and now all he had to do was climb the metal stairs.
As he limped toward them, his mind went back to the events in the apartment. It had been a trap. They’d been expecting him, which meant they knew of Liz’s involvement. Amanda might be in danger, too. He had to get back, to protect her. He remembered the last words he had spoken to her.
“I should have minded my own business when I saw you on the street.”
The look on her face…
“You idiot,” he said to himself, placing his hand on the metal railing, ready to ascend.
“You took the words right out of my mouth, Michael.”
The voice came from the darkness down the hallway. Morbius turned, every muscle screaming. He attempted to see through the shadows, and failed.
Letting go of the railing, he hobbled toward the speaker, realizing that any attempt to escape made no sense at this point, not in his current state. Better to face any adversary head-on. After a few steps, he realized that a man was standing near the far wall. No, not a wall. A large metal door. The man sported a thick beard and a bald head, and most distinctively, he wore a familiar red robe.
Demon-Fire.
Morbius’ stomach dropped. All this time he and Amanda had been looking for the cult, and the cult had been watching them. Just how far-reaching was this group’s grasp, he wondered, standing up straight, attempting to convey strength where there was none.
“Hello, Mr. Morbius,” the man hissed.
Morbius bared his teeth in response, too tired to engage in banter. He had to dispose of this priest—or whatever he was—and get to the surface, warn Amanda.
“I have to admit,” the man continued, “I’m surprised you fell for our bait. I said the plan was too simplistic, but the others assured me that your history and personality made you an easy mark. And here you are. You will be a highly prized addition to the games.”
The games?
What the hell was he talking about? Morbius blinked, tried to clear his head, and decided it didn’t matter. He tensed, ready to lunge, to drink every drop of this man’s blood, when he felt something sharp enter his neck. He yelped, more from surprise than pain, and whirled. Two more robed figures stood in the shadows, their hoods pulled up, hiding their faces in darkness. One of them held a syringe.
Where had they come from? How had he missed them?
He clasped his hand over the spot on his neck, and the skin there was already burning. He attempted to step toward them, but instead fell to his knees. He heard the first man—the one with the beard—approach from behind, but was unable to turn, was barely able to keep upright at all. His head was swimming.
“Shhhh… it’s okay, Michael,” the man said. “You did your best. You had a good run. You killed so many people. People who mattered. But now you… you and Amanda… are ours. Again. And this time, nothing will save either of you.”
The man laughed quietly as Morbius fell to his side. He fought to keep his eyelids open, to crawl toward his enemy, but his body refused to obey his mind’s commands. Feet surrounded him, possibly more people than just the three he had seen.
It was impossible to tell.
He grunted, tried to tell them all that he would kill them, but instead his eyes finally closed and Michael Morbius slipped into unconsciousness.
CHAPTER SEVEN
LIZ GREEN walked down Avenue C. She was smiling. Despite the way it had started, it had been one hell of a day. Things had really picked up.
Finally.
It was cold out, but the sun was shining and the sky was a bright blue, the kind that instantly made her happy when she saw it. After running a few errands, Liz had gone on the first of two auditions she’d scheduled, and crushed it.
The casting director offered her the part right there in the room, something she had never experienced before—had only heard about from other actors. “Friends” who only came into her bar when they wanted to brag about their successes.
It was a starring role in a short film, which normally wasn’t a huge deal, but its director had been a director of photography on a number of big Hollywood releases. She was making her first foray into directing her own material. The casting director told Liz that the Sundance Film Festival had already expressed interest
in the script. The director’s agents had insisted that she cast a star, but she wanted to find an unknown, thought the part would get lost beneath someone famous.
Liz would be playing the role.
She had decided to skip her other audition—for an off-off-off Broadway musical that honestly sounded really dumb, something about a war between the rats and cockroaches of New York City. Instead, she decided to treat herself to a nice lunch, something she never did. Liz could barely afford a deli sandwich, let alone a nice meal.
There was a restaurant she passed almost every day. She would stare at the people inside and dream of someday sitting by the window, watching New York pass by.
Today was that day.
There were tables available, but she waited for a seat with a view. She ordered a steak and mashed potatoes and carrots—her favorite meal growing up—and a glass of Pinot Noir that was almost as expensive as the meal itself. She sipped it slowly while she ate, savoring its taste as juxtaposed with the perfectly cooked meat.
The waiter was handsome and flirted subtly with her, even filling up her glass halfway for free and walking away with a wink. For a moment she thought about Fabian, and felt slightly guilty, but she hadn’t heard from him. He hadn’t returned any of her calls. So, she left her phone number on the receipt, and wondered if the guy would call.
Even if he didn’t, that was fine. Either way, she was going to star in a short film for someone with credits. Real credits. This could change everything.
She couldn’t wait to tell Amanda. She thought about calling her but then decided to wait until they met up back at her apartment that night. She wanted to see her best friend’s face when she heard the news. Liz had whispered this kind of dream during many sleepovers when they were kids, how she hoped someday to be famous.
Liz had just taken a huge step in that direction.
After lunch, she visited her dad in his apartment. He wasn’t feeling well, but a huge smile crossed his face when she told him the news. He patted her hand and she noticed how thin his skin looked, almost like tissue paper. He needed better care, which meant she needed more money. And this short film might be the start… for both of them.
Morbius Page 7