Erica opened her eyes and felt her blood boiling. The sun had set and Travis had woken up, he was watching something on his computer. Her eardrums felt like they were about to burst, she could detect the slightest sound: the water gurgling along the sewer pipes of the building, the wind blowing outside the apartment, some people arguing down at the street, a dog howling somewhere inside the building and a pair of boots approaching the door to their apartment, their wearer trying to walk quietly. She shot a look at Travis, but he hadn’t heard a thing. She got up from the floor and walked to the door, as noiselessly as she could, gesturing at the same time towards the hacker not to make a sound. She focused her attention on the steps she had detected and managed to realize that the one approaching was, at least, a human. Erica waited until that person had come close enough and then suddenly she opened the door.
“Good afternoon”, she told the man, smiling in a friendly manner.
Before her stood a man about thirty years old, fairly muscular, with his hair cut short, military style. He was wearing combat boots, his fingers were threaded in metal knuckles and on his neck, where the skin met the shirt, could be seen the edges of a hooked cross, a swastika. The man looked at her, stunned from her looks and surprised from her being there. Erica had been an extremely attractive young woman, when she was human. Now, she was quite irresistible and her mere presence was enough to charm simple minds with ease. Looking at him straight in the eye, while she was employing her powers, she asked him whether he wanted to come in, whereupon the man nodded, mechanically. Without taking her eyes off him, she asked Travis.
“Friend of yours?”
Travis didn’t sound too keen to answer. He tried to speak, his voice caught, took a deep breath, tried to gather his courage and began to explain:
“Well, not exactly… see… sometimes he drops by… each month and… asks for some blood. He needs it whenever he or one of his friends gets injured… He’s stronger than me, see, and he has these knuckles! Made of silver!” he said, trying to explain himself.
“You’re letting a mere human beat you up and steal your blood? And the other vampires, do nothing to protect you?” asked Erica, surprised, yet she kept on smiling to the man.
The man looked like he was trying to snap out of it, his face was sweaty, but his feeble mind was quite unable to overcome the iron will of Erica. Behind her, Travis continued:
“They’re cooperating with the Arian Nation, so they’re ok with it… Plus… well, they’re getting a good laugh out of me being unable to stop a human…”
Erica released the man from her spell, before walking to the door and closing it, as she had left it open up until then. The man shook his head to regain his composure and immediately turned towards her.
“Who are you? Try that bewitching shit again on me and I’m gonna kill you, got it?” he threatened her, raising his knuckled fists towards her, but it was apparent how fearful he was. “We’ve got a deal with your kind, you can’t touch me”, he added.
Some tiny part in him had realized that, this time, he wasn’t walking away alive.
Erica approached and focused the strength of her will on him.
“Do not scream!” she said and felt the teetering will of the man collapse instantly.
The man tried to speak, but could only manage a sad whine. Panicking, he charged, attempting to hit her with his silver knuckles, but Erica grabbed him by the wrist and with a simple turn of her hand, broke it. She brought her hand down on his side, almost as if she was caressing him, but some bones were heard breaking. The man collapsed under the strength of the strike, blood foaming on his lips. Erica stood above him, stepped on his leg until the bone snapped and then she nodded at Travis. He looked at her as if she had just presented him with the most amazing gift and at once he fell on the stricken man, bit him and began sucking his blood. A few moments later he stood up; his face was covered in blood and the man was dead. Completely unaffected by the scene, Erica had returned to her seat and when she saw that Travis was done, she announced to him:
“We need money, weapons and information… to begin with”.
Travis nodded, as he was attempting to hatch a plan.
“The first two might prove a bit tricky to get. Human gun stores are a bit short on silver weapons, apart from some pretty old stuff, perhaps a knife or two. There’s no way to get your hands on silver bullets. Unless you know anyone who sells…” he continued, but Erica shook her head and told him that, no, the Order made on its own whatever weapons it needed.
“Now, as for money…” continued Travis, “there is the ‘easy’ way of targeting some jeweler, but then again we might have trouble finding a fence willing to buy large quantities of jewels in a short period of time. Banks are like fortresses, there’s no way we could hit those. We might try enchanting some employer, but even so, getting your hands on a decent amount of money is next to impossible, unless we could target one of the directors or some such bigwig. So, the only option left are the crime syndicates but these are controlled, always behind the scenes, by vampires. Without access to weapons it would be difficult, even for someone like you… right?”
Erica did not comment. She pointed at the body.
“Is there another powerful family in the city? And, if there is, are they controlled by the same vampires?” she asked him, and when he answered affirmatively, if guardedly, that indeed there was, but the family wasn’t under that same control, Erica jumped up. “Perfect! Get me a rug so we can wrap up this creep. We have a present to send to his guys”.
“Are you planning on setting them against each other?” asked Travis, although he felt it was a mere formality, as he expected that he knew the answer.
“Nope, we are the ones who’ll kill them. It’s just that there are some other things that have to be taken care of first”.
This time Travis did not speak. He merely looked at her, to see whether she was being serious and when she realized that this was very much the case, he walked off numbly to find something with which to wrap the body.
Marcos opened his eyes and realized he was lying on some hospital bed. He was naked from the waist up and his ribcage was swathed in bandages. Two women were talking nearby, but he couldn’t understand what they were saying, he was too dizzy. By the time he had managed to clear his mind, the conversation had stopped and one of the women approached him, while the other walked away.
“How’s my favorite patient feeling today?” she asked him.
He looked at her, but his mind stubbornly refused to give up the information he was looking for. She was a woman about his age, perhaps a little older, with long blond hair which made her already thin face look even tinier. Fortunately, her taste when it came to reading glasses had proven somewhat better, since she had selected a thin and tasteful frame. Overall, she was rather sweet, though he had seen her many times before, so he wasn’t too impressed. With that realization, his brain finally gave up and presented him with the information he was looking for.
“Glad to see you, too, Angelica”, he answered.
“Admit it, you’re getting injured every opportunity you get in order to bag those sweet sick leaves!” she told him, teasingly.
Marcos laughed, which earned him a sharp stab on the side.
“Please, don’t say a word to my bosses”, he said, trying to keep a straight face, only for both of them to end up laughing and him hurting even more.
His doctor was looking at him with sincere sympathy, but when she saw his face twitching in pain, she immediately took a completely serious tone.
“I am sorry; I shouldn’t have made you laugh. So, listen: the bullet missed all vital organs, so we had no trouble removing it. However, for a few days you’ll have to stay…”
“Out of the question, Angelica”, Marcos cut her off, shortly. “There’s no way in hell, and you know it. I’ve had far worse injuries and I haven’t stayed in here”.
His doctor tried to reason with him, but again he wouldn’t let her.
“Angelica, there’s a gang of maniacs roaming the streets, we’ve been tracking them for ages. I can’t stay here. I mustn’t!”
His doctor looked at him, struggling with the decision she was being asked to make, but in the end she gave in.
“Try to avoid any sudden moves for the first week or so, or those stiches are going to break! Change your bandages regularly and if you’re having trouble with that, come to see me or talk to the medic at your station! Got that?” she told him in a strict tone and he smiled at her and nodded as he was wearing his shirt, standing now.
Angelica glanced fleetingly at his body, with its swathed ribcage and then she seemed to recall something which made her bite her lower lip.
“The man you arrested”, she said, in a halting voice, “was he a member of that gang of… murderers? How’s that case going? I know police are keeping quiet due to the nature of this particular case, but… there are rumors that they’re members of some cult…”
Marcos held her by her hands and looked her in the eye.
“First of all, you really don’t want to know any details. Having said that, yes, I do hope that the man I arrested was one of them, but I cannot be sure. Angelica… be careful. These guys target women. When you leave the hospital late at night, make sure you’re with other people. Ok?”
The doctor nodded.
“We’ll get them, do not worry. And now, my release papers, if you please!” added, smiling this time.
An hour later, Marcos was standing at the exit of the hospital. The sun was bright and hot, despite being winter, something which wasn’t that rare a phenomenon in Greece. He was leaning on the wall next to the sliding doors at the main entrance of the hospital, patiently waiting for a colleague to pick him up. Dozens of people around him were walking in and out of the hospital, many were touring the various departments, collecting documents, paperwork and all manner or red tape. No one paid attention to those around them, stressed out as they were, either for their own selves or their friends or family hospitalized there. A mother, holding her little son by the hand, was standing a few feet away. She was trying to make sense of the signs there, about where they should be heading. The boy was holding his tummy, grimacing in pain. The child noticed Marcos and his blood-stained shirt and for a moment forgot all about his pain, staring at him slack-jawed. His mother, the moment she realized what it was that had caught her son’s attention, pulled the boy on her, startled, but mostly disgusted at the spectacle of Marcos and immediately headed towards the hospital corridors. Marcos, on the other hand, felt a wave of sadness crashing over him, tinged with anger; these were the people he had been trying to protect, these were the people he had been wounded for.
The sound of honking interrupted his thoughts. He turned towards the source and saw his friend in a tiny red Smart beckoning from the street. Several horns joined in, pressed by drivers held up by his friend. By the time Marcos had managed to get in the car the drivers, his friend included, has exchanged several angry words.
“You shouldn’t have come, John…” said Marcos, who felt bad about the whole thing. “I told you, I could get a cab”.
“Nonsense!” replied his friend, light-heartedly, immediately forgetting the argument with the other drivers. “Like I would let you run after a cab. For the next couple of days I’ll be ‘forced’ to be your cabby and you shall repay me by allowing me to use that sweet espresso machine you got over at your place. Say, for example, today I’ll just help myself to a couple of cups, no more than three, while I’ll be waiting for you to change. Just to show you what a pal I am!”
Marcos looked at him, did his best not to laugh and replied, keeping a completely straight face:
“I think I’ll be getting that cab, after all”.
The two men managed to fake seriousness for a mere second, and then burst into laughter. Once the laughter had subsided, John told Marcos that the man they had arrested hadn’t revealed a single thing, despite the prolonged interrogation.
“After we swing by my place, we’ll head to the station, and I’ll deal with him”, said Marcos, in a way that put an end to that line of conversation.
The truth was that he wanted to learn more about the situation, but his ribs were hurting a lot and he needed some time to regain his strength. In fact, he knew he would have to heed Angelica’s instructions and rest, but he couldn’t abandon the case. The mere thought that, right at that moment, the cultists who the Greek police was trying to apprehend were looking for their next victim was enough to drive him mad. So, he gritted his teeth, swallowed his pain and hoped that his commander would not pull him off this case the moment he laid eyes on him.
Erica’s hand, resting around his arm, had put Travis’ senses on fire. He felt like the time when he had been turned into a vampire and had fed on blood for the very first time. In her touch, he was feeling a wave of pure energy coursing through his body. He could hardly concentrate on the task at hand. They had arrived at a villa, a short way outside the city. The imposing structure was located at the center of a garden filled with well-tended plants and elaborate fountains. A paved path led to the entrance of the courtyard surrounding the main building; right at the hall were a masquerade ball was being held. A crowd of people was dancing, the men dressed in traditional costumes, the women in dresses in the style of the 18th century. All were wearing masks, though most appeared to recognize one another. Travis and Erica were dressed like the rest of the guests, though an observant eye might have noticed on closer inspection that their clothes were cheap reproductions of signature lines which they had stolen from a store selling goth outfits, before they joined the party. Luckily, Erica appeared to be strong enough to be affecting the thoughts of those around them, so as to pay them no attention.
“Kindly remind me, what are we doing at a party organized by a patron of your Order? You had me erase all traces of your existence so that they wouldn’t trace you, am I right or am I right?” asked Travis, looking worriedly around him.
In the corners of the hall, behind pillars as well as on the stairs leading to the other floors, men had taken positions discreetly, keeping a careful eye on the proceedings. Despite Erica’s strength, affecting their thoughts would prove extremely difficult. And yet, instead of answering him, Erica walked straight towards the stairs, pulling Travis alongside and tried to approach two of the several men guarding this place. The moment they set foot on the steps, the two men moved forwards, blocking their path. Travis noticed that they had now drawn the attention of all the guards.
“I would like to see Dimitri”, announced Erica in flawless Russian and continued: “The man at my side is holding me hostage. Please, act discreetly”.
She turned to Travis and this time in English, quietly, but not so much that the others wouldn’t hear her, she told him:
“I told them that we want to see Dimitri and that we’re seeking refuge from some men who have been pursuing us”.
Again, she turned towards the men, who hadn’t made the slightest move and spoke two words:
“Silver sanctuary”.
The phrase had an immediate impact, as the two men stepped aside at once, letting them know that the path was now clear. The rest of the guards headed towards the various outer doors of the villa and began talking to each other, so that they had all entrances covered.
Still walking arm in arm, Erica and Travis climbed the staircase. The two guards followed them. Travis was clearly calmer and was now able to notice the elegant decoration of the villa. They were walking on an expensive, handmade Russian carpet, while paintings hanging from the walls depicted the failed Russian revolution and the ensuing slaughter of the workers’ by the czar’s Cossacks. A magnificent chandelier was hanging from the ceiling, heavy with crystals glittering brightly, while all the furniture was finely engraved. Even the marble covering the floor was evidently of the highest quality, brightly white.
They reached the landing and turned to a corridor leading further inside the
building. The two guards behind them remained silent. The moment they reached a place where they couldn’t be seen from the ballroom, Erica suddenly pulled her hand from Travis’ arm. Before he had the chance to realize what was happening, the guards dropped him to the floor, kicking him at the knees from behind. One of the two men pulled a pair of silver handcuffs from his pocket and the moment they put them on him, Travis started screaming from the pain. The second man clamped his hand on the prisoner’s mouth in an attempt to shut him up, but immediately realized his mistake, as Travis bit it at once. And yet, wasting no time, they both started hitting him on the head, until the ambushed vampire lost his senses.
Unhallowed Shadows Page 7