Night 7

Rachel woke up from a dream of old days that were not long ago. A man was grabbing for her as she danced. A bouncer had ended up tossing the guy out. She pulled the blankets closer, even though she was already warm, they were comfortable. She looked around and saw dozens of beams of light, several inches square shining across the room, crisscrossing and slanting so that it would be impossible to cross the room anywhere, even along walls and ceiling to get through. She thought it odd; most who sleep during the day would prefer the room to be completely dark. She shrugged it off and went back to sleep.

Night fell and Kris woke up as the last rays of sunshine to make it to the window fell away into utter darkness, the sign in the alley that day was over. He went to the shower and came out to get dressed. He pulled on some baggy jeans and a loose t-shirt, strapped on some Nikes and then went to brush his teeth. He figured he would grab a sandwich on his way to Erzebet’s.

He came out to the small living room where Rachel was still asleep on the sofa. He picked up his coat and checked the weapons. He turned to the woman who was wrapped in blankets. He walked over to her and wiped a strand of hair away from her slightly pursed lips. Her eyes opened slowly. His eyes widened in fear and he realized that he had felt similar before, just before he found out that vampires were real. He had been caught looking at a girl he thought was pretty. She smiled and his fear faded. “Be careful, I’m going out and I don’t know if or when I’ll be back. There’s an extra key hanging in my bedroom on the dresser. Later.” He turned and disappeared out the door.

He walked to Erzebet’s briskly. He had to talk to Ty about what had happened and his recreation time had only made things worse. He had someone living in his apartment; he had pissed off and nearly killed five guys. Maybe he just attracted trouble. He made it to the place and went into the small alcove and then through the next door and walked into the always densely populated club.

He walked over to the center bar and waited for Ty to notice, or rather pretend to notice. Ty always knew when someone he was familiar with was close. Ty served a few drinks, faster than most people but nowhere near how quickly he could have and then turned to Kris. “What’s up, mon? You be feelin’ better now dat you had a little time to yourself?”

Kris shook his head, “I can’t even have a couple of beers without someone trying to knock my head off. Look, I know that you guys are undead and live by a different set of rules and maybe once I could handle that shit, but I think more happened when I lost my memory than I thought.”

“Well, whatever be happenin’, ya got a couple o’ visitors.” Ty pointed to a table where two guys who looked like their hell was a thousand times worse than Kris’ own were sitting.

Kris nodded as he noticed them, “Who the fuck comes looking for me?”

“Trouble, mon, always be trouble.” Ty turned to start mixing drinks and impressing women with looks, accent and wit.

Kris started walking toward the two, scruffy looking, sweaty, pissed off looking guys. One was a young kid who looked like he could have been in one of those TV commercials for a clothing store. The older guy was wearing a long trench and a dark tee with blue jeans. The guy looked up with dark eyes that were intense, “Are you Kris Bane?”

Kris looked around and then shook his head, “Yeah, why?”

“You know a big guy, hairy, really hairy, especially when he’s pissed off?”

Kris’ eyes narrowed, “Yeah, what happened to him?”

James looked to the floor, “He died so I could find you, right along with an old friend of mine.” Brick looked up and felt a twinge of anger in James when he purposefully forgot to mention Anya. “He told me to find you, said you were looking for the same person I am”

“Arthur did not just die.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t think we’re fighting your run of the mill bloodsucker here. The Asian one didn’t die after I staked her and cut off her head, so I don’t think killing another vampire’s much of a problem for their type.”

Kris looked distant, “They’re real.”

James asked, “What?”

Kris took a chair and sat, “According to Kahmir, there are ancient creatures from which the vampires, succubae and ghouls are descended from. They were more powerful; they had the strengths of all the undead and were almost impossible to kill. If Arthur was taken out so easily, then it had to be one of them.”

James knocked on the table, “How the hell do you know so much, you one them or something?”

Kris chuckled, “No, I’m a hunter; I work alone for the most part. I’m immune to them, or something. They can’t make me one of them and when they try to hurt me, they can’t use their powers. No one knows how it works or why. That’s just the way it is.”

James grabbed him by the throat, “The last person who fed me a line of shit like that was a fucking piece of shit vampire. Be straight with me, man, I’m not in the fucking mood.”

Kris looked at the man’s arm, “You can believe in vampires, but not something designed by the world to fight them. I have a sword that is made of steel and cuts them like they were mortal again. I have a gun designed to fire silver bullets at a rate similar to that of today’s weapons that was built in the nineteenth century. It’s a wacked out world, and I’m learning to deal with it. I even know a vampire that used to be a witchdoctor. He hunted down zombies for his village. There’s a lot you don’t know, so back the fuck off.”

James’ grip tightened, “Zombies are real, too. You know they’re real.”

Kris grabbed James’ wrist and pushed on the inside of it. James’ grip loosened and Kris took James’ hand away. “Look, we’re after the same thing here, so why don’t you just deal with what I know.”

James shook his head, “Why can’t it ever be easy?”

Kris let go of James’ arm, “I find myself asking the same question.” He looked back to Ty and held up two fingers, then turned back to James, “So, what’s your name?”

“James Dalton and this is Edward Brick.”

Brick gave a nod, “Call me Brick, man.”

Kris could tell the two had been through more than he had thought. A tall blonde with a pair of skin tight jeans came over and sat a draft in front of James and Brick and gave Kris a pad of paper. “Alright, here’s the deal. You two need to clean up and calm down. We need to get some shit straight and compare notes. Maybe, we’ll get past the hate and then we can stop this bitch.”

James took a draught of his beer, “And what is the paper for?”

“Write down what you want as far as clothes and stuff, if you don’t have it. I know someone who’ll hook you up. Right now, just relax, alright.”

James sat down the beer, “What the fuck, you’re way too calm right now.”

“Someone has to be.” Kris stood up and started to walk away.

James stood and shouted, “Hey.” Kris turned to look at him, “Sorry, about that?”

Kris shook his head, “I understand, don’t worry about it.”

Kris walked to the bar, “Ty, we’ve got a problem.” Kris’ face changed immediately. He looked worried, “Arthur’s dead. Shit’s falling apart and we’re no closer than we were before. We’re screwed.”

Ty put a hand on his shoulder, “We’ll figure dis out, one way or another. Don’t lose it now.”

Kris looked down and Ty slid him a shot of tequila. He downed it and looked over his shoulder at the two ragged looking hunters. “They’re fucked up. The one looks familiar, but the kid I don’t know.” Kris downed the shot.

Ty spun and served a few of the oblivious rabble then came back to Kris, “The one worked da city for awhile, a few years back. He worked with a group that did it New Age style, with technology instead of sheer force. All of dem be dead, now, saving for him.”

“That could explain it.”

Ty poured another shot of tequila and Kris downed that one, slamming the glass down. “You know, they could be the help you be needing, mon.” Ty raised an eyebrow at Kris.

“Yeah, or they could be another liability shoved on us by an enemy we don’t know we have.” He looked back again. As he brought his gaze back to Ty, he saw the dark brunette. He looked back. She was staring at him, watching like a hawk.

He turned to Ty, “Who the hell is that?”

Ty chuckled, “Dat be Domitius all seeing eye. She be the keeper of his little pets.”

“What pets?”

“The more powerful be keeping all kinds of bad ju-ju for people like you. She be waiting for da right moment.”

“Then why isn’t she doing something now, or last night? Everyone knows that I haven’t been myself, hell, I’m lucky to remember who my friends are.”

“I don’t know.” Ty turned away and Kris knew that that was the end of the conversation for awhile.

Kris turned to watch James and Brick but felt the woman looking at him. Her eyes did not even have to be on him and he could feel it. He wondered why he had not noticed the feeling before. He was too jumpy, too clumsy to be as good as everyone said. He wondered what was missing from the puzzle that would make him the great undead killer they all feared.

He shrugged and walked back to James and Brick. He sat down. James passed him a piece of paper. The list included weapons, clothing, and a car. Kris looked at them, then down at the list again. He picked it up, “Alright, you guys stay here, there’s something I have to take care of that might take awhile.”

Kris walked back to the bar and waited for Ty. When Ty came over, he did not let the Jamaican speak. He handed the pad to him and then nodded toward the woman, “I’m going to see what she wants, hopefully, this won’t take long.”

Kris walked the dance floor, cutting a swath through the dancers. None of them seemed brave enough to stay in his way as his eyes narrowed and his cold rage came out again. He seemed calmer, more aware. She stopped talking to a tall, lanky man in a suit and watched him as he came toward her. She squared her body to his and crossed her arms.

Kris stopped a few feet from her. The blare of the music was as good as perfect silence as far as they were concerned. Kris could see the way she hated him in her eyes. It was like staring into a dark abyss that was trying to drink up his soul, her frigid manner evident in the way she glared at him. Kris did not feel that the glare was for him alone.

He kept walking and shouldered past her. She stumbled back and the look in her eye intensified. The cool rage that burned inside her swelled up and unleashed like the flames of a volcano pouring toward the sky and she started yelling after him. She was not a very collected creature for someone who was supposed to be a watcher and a caretaker.

He walked on. She followed after him and he felt pleased. It was like pissing off a girl in grade school just because you could and everyone else thought it was funny. The difference was that she was no school girl, she was a few hundred years too old and capable of things that no mortal would have thought by looking over her slender frame.

He walked through the crowd leading her toward a back door, the only way out. That door was seldom used before the place closed and was manned by Brent Killigan, a vampire notorious for being able to leave no trail wherever he went. He was there to ensure that the pathetic little mortals that saw too much did not remember a thing of it. They would have only the memories they needed and not a one would be able to distinguish between having been brainwashed and blacking out. He also knew who to try it on and who not to. It never had worked on Kris and never would.

Kris slammed the door open and the woman followed behind, throwing the door open as it almost crashed shut in her face. She bared her teeth at Brent and he shrunk back in a mocking gesture of fear, on the verge of laughing at her. Her eyes widened and pigeons came over the top of the building and flocked down, rushing over the younger, smarter Brent and pecking him wildly as they flew past. Kris did not even turn toward the sound of beating wings.

He waited until she was finished and the door was shut. “I don’t know who the hell you are, but I want to know why you’ve been following me.” He stopped, arms crossed, trench coat flailing in the wind.

“My name is Naomi; I am to make sure that you stay well for my master.”

“Wait a minute; the guy who wants me dead wants me well. That’s about the most fucked up thing I’ve ever heard.”

“You’re special, very special and he wants to prove that he can make you die. It’s rumored to be quite difficult.” The pigeons were gone and Brent was healing the peck wounds.

“Then why doesn’t he come and pay me a visit on his own. Then we’ll see who the one in charge is.”

She beamed, “With Arthur gone, only the old rat is left. You are but a puppet and when those that hold the strings fall, so will you.”

“You know, I love all this intrigue bullshit, but let’s cut to the chase. Right now, it’s a matter of trophies and I’m one of the best animals on the wall because the Red Baptism doesn’t mean shit to me. So, what’s keeping you from giving it a whirl? We all know you want me dead worse than he does, he just wants me gone.” He turned to her and dropped his arms to his side. He was not totally sure what he was doing, but it felt right.

Her dark eyes lit up and then Kris was slung against the wall. The breath was knocked out of him and he had to focus to get control back from his reeling and spinning mind. Then he saw the Nosferatu that was staring at him. The thing walked up to him and glared with strangely reptilian eyes. It grabbed him by the throat with a scaly hand. Kris could tell that it was more like a skin disease than reptile scales.

He reached down and grabbed his revolver. The cold iron in his hand and the weight of the massive six shooter seemed to make him feel better. With his other hand he grabbed the vampire’s thumb and twisted. The disease ridden creature squawked almost like a bird and stepped back. Kris pushed and the thing fell. Then he aimed the huge gun at the woman and fired. It sounded loud enough to be a bazooka, not the usual pop of a modern weapon, but a resounding explosion. The bullet ripped into the woman’s skull, a hole an inch and a half in diameter opened up and blood splattered from the wound and the back of her head was a splatter of gray, red and white chips left on the wall behind her. The body was picked up and flung back before landing, bouncing twice on the pavement of the alleyway.

The Nosferatu was gone and then he saw the inky shadow that was clamoring up a wall, some seven stories up, and shot at it. The vampire fell out of the shadows, lifeless, limp and with a hole in its chest that looked like someone had ripped its heart out. It landed with a hollow thud and the pavement cracked. Blood oozed everywhere. Then he turned to the sound of moaning.

He saw several things shambling off into the darkness. He started after one and saw that it was moving pretty quick despite its mindless meandering. His first thought was, “Fuck, this is going to suck.” He blasted the thing and it turned toward him. He made a face that spoke volumes about how unlucky that was. He knew it was not a vampire. He holstered the gun and pulled the katana. He stood there, waiting patiently for the corpse.

It closed and he could smell the rot, the moist earth and the festering body fluids. The thing’s fingers had rotted back so that the bones were exposed and they were sharp enough to rip through flesh. Kris shook his head. One would think that nature would at least prevent that. He swung the black hilted katana and it sliced through the zombie’s head. The top half slid off from the bottom half. Kris tipped his head from side to side and looked at it like it was the dumbest thing on the planet. Then he sidestepped a clawing hand and hacked the limb off and came back with a slash that cut through the body at an angle and cut the other arm. The thing dropped. He looked down at it and shook his head, “You’re a stubborn son of a bitch, aren’t you?”

He took off after another one. He ran down the alley and turned a corner. The zombie was standing there, facing away from him. Kris turned around in a slow circle and saw the shadows, they were filled with glinting eyes and the opening to the alley was blocked by two men with pistols aimed at him. He dropped his head and closed his eyes, winced lightly and breathed out slowly.

He looked up again, slow, cautious, deadly. His blue eyes seemed lighter, paler, burning with a coolness that said he was not happy. Then, his eyes narrowed. He dropped down to balance himself better and started moving around in a slow circle. He was counting and with each number, he grew harsher, colder. He was feeling the strength of a hunter.

Then he heard Ty’s voice, “Hey, mon, let’s be dancing.”

Kris ran at the set of green eyes that crouched in shadow before him and slashed. The vampire hissed as blood arced through the darkness. Behind him, four vampires were slashed into little pieces by the dark whirlwind that was Ty moving faster than any other creature in the city with a sword in hand. The witchdoctor could fight with the best of them and numbers meant nothing to one who could move so fast that you could not see him. The two fought side by side as if they had done so many times before. Ty was fast and Kris was a show of firepower and swordplay that only someone with years of practice wielding both firearms and blades at the same time could have pulled off. It was a bloodbath as the whelp vampires attacked and each met its subsequent death at the hands of two of the best fighters in New York. They had been sent to their deaths without knowing it and paid the price with their unlives.

In the end Ty and Kris stood in the midst of nearly two dozen hacked or burning bodies and a pool of blood. “This be why dat girl and Domitius need stopped. It won’t be going unnoticed for long,” Ty said.

Kris still felt the cold edge in his blood, “Then I guess I’ll just have to do my job.”

“Da two dat came in tonight be going to see Lotavlavic, he be making sure they be having what they need.”

“Good, I’m going to go check on Rachel.”

“And who be dat, mon?”

“She’s,” Kris started tripping over his words before he even started, “She needed help. She’ll be gone tonight.”

“Not with da look you be havin in your eyes.”

“Whatever.”

Ty threw up his arms, “Hey, mon, believe what you like, but dem eyes say something is dere.”

Kris started walking and flipped Ty off over his shoulder. The vampire laughed.

Kris took off running when he rounded the corner. He ran back to the apartment as fast as he could. He threw open the door and stopped. He looked around. He heard something in his bedroom. He slipped over the threshold and closed the door with his foot. He stood there in the light of the room and waited. His eyes were still narrow and cold. Then he heard footsteps coming his way. He readied himself.

Then she stepped out. Her long auburn hair seemed redder. Her dark eyes were almost sparkling and the tired look on her face was replaced with a small, content grin. She was still wearing his pajamas and he noticed that the shirt was pulled tight by her full perky breasts. He tried to focus on her face, and a beautiful face it was, but his clothes, though the sleeves and legs were too long, clung to her curves just enough to draw his attention to her body. She noticed he was having difficulty looking her in the eye and smiled. It was funny to watch a guy try so hard not to look.

“What?” he asked when she smiled so big, his eyes fading to a warmer shade of blue.

“Nothing.”

He pulled his coat off, “Are you alright?”

She looked at him like he was weird, “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because, I don’t know, just making sure.”

She was truly perplexed.

“I attract a lot of bad attention and I wanted to be sure no one was screwing with you.”

“Why would they do that?”

“In my line of work, you make a lot of enemies, that’s all.” He tossed his coat on a chair. He heard the weapons clatter inside. It amazed him that the coat was so silent when he wore it, but just tossing it made so much noise.

“So, exactly what do you do?” She sauntered toward his little kitchen.

“I told you, I’m kind of a cop.”

From the small room, she raised her voice so he could hear her, “Yeah, you said that, but it’s that kind of part that I’m asking about.”

“Look, I can’t talk about it, but I can tell you that you need to get away from here. It’s dangerous.”

“Oh, really, and you think that my life isn’t. Come on, it can’t be that bad.”

“Trust me; you have no idea what a life like mine is like.”

“Tell me about it and I’ll tell you if my life is anything like it.”

He could hear her doing something in the other room with a plate, silverware and something plastic. “Alright, imagine if you had to look in the mirror and see the most horrible thing staring back at you.”

She stepped out of the kitchen with a plate in her hand. On it was a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, “You look hungry, tired and I know what you mean. There are a lot of times I regret things I’ve done.” She sat the sandwich down on the coffee table in front of him and then looked at him like a mother does when she wants her child to do something she knows that the youngster can read from what she just did.

He sat and looked at the sandwich. “Not so much as me, I’m willing to bet.”

She sat across from him, “And what has someone like you possibly done that they could regret that much.” Her dark eyes never left his face.

He picked up the sandwich and sat back; he winced and jerked forward when his back hit the back of the chair.

“Are you all right?” She walked around to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m fine.”

She looked him over and then walked behind the chair. She took the sandwich away from him and he let her take it with a frustrated look on his face. “You know, you really shouldn’t be here.” She grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled the back of it up. She gasped. His back was bruised badly; there were places where he was bleeding from the black, blue and yellowed flesh.

“Oh my god.”

He let his eyes roll from one side of the room to the other, “its part of the job. You should leave now.”

“No, I’m not going anywhere, besides; you could use someone around here. You work too hard to take care of the apartment, too.” She sounded defiant, like she was standing up for herself, truly convicted.

“You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“Then why don’t you tell me?”

“Because I am not going to tell you to change your beliefs for me, I’m not going to give you the curse that I live with on a nightly basis. You don’t need it; you can still live a normal life.” He stood up, pulling his shirt out of her grip and looked at her. She was looking into his cool blue eyes with her own dark brown orbs. They seemed to burn brilliantly and it made him feel like something bad was happening. Her long auburn hair was begging for his attention to follow those waves down her body. He turned away.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

He looked up into the shadows of the ceiling, “You don’t need my life or the pain it brings, Rachel, and you just don’t. Go home, to your parents or a friend’s place. Get away from here and never look back. In the end, it’ll be better that way.”

“What are you so afraid of?”

He let out a sigh, “The dark, and all the things in it.” He turned back to her. His cool blue eyes were gleaming with the beginnings of tears.

“You are afraid of the dark? I don’t believe that for an instant. What are you really afraid of?”

“Losing,” he looked into those brown eyes and remembered a face that was cuter, softer, not quite as pretty, “again.”

She knew the thought that lingered between those two words. She could feel it, the power in that distant gaze. She knew that he was looking at a face from his past, but it was odd, it was like he was trying to grasp the moment for so much more than just that face, just the memory. He was still looking into the distance, the past. She bit her lip and felt that burning sensation that comes before you cry.

He turned away slowly and then shook his head a little. He walked into the kitchen and took out a gallon of milk, took off the cap and smelled it. It was fresh. He looked at the jug and it was not the brand he normally bought, but it was two percent. He looked back over his shoulder and Rachel gave him a little grin that said she was guilty and had done the right thing. He took a clean glass from the cupboard and poured milk in it. He took a drink and walked back to his sandwich. He took a bite and washed it down with a swallow of milk. He looked at her and she saw the hurt in those blue eyes, “I’ll only say it one more time, you should leave, for your own good.”

She shook her head and he knew that it was futile. He remembered how Arthur had found Autumn. He had saved her life and let her continue living. Autumn would die for him, even knowing what he was and what he was capable of. Kris felt guilty. He was responsible for her somehow.

He sat down the sandwich. He turned his back to Rachel. He pulled his shirt off. His skin was almost marble white where it was not covered in bruises. In the sea of white, along the lines of every muscle in that lithe back, she could make out scars, only slightly whiter than the rest. She walked over and touched the bullet wound that had healed long ago in his shoulder. She saw whip lashings, but could only guess at what the slashing tears really were. She traced claw marks along both of his shoulders and felt the solid muscle beneath her fingers. He turned around and she saw the claw marks that went from his right clavicle to his left pelvic bone. There was another scar from a bullet that passed just below his left clavicle. There were knife slashes across his stomach and scratch marks on his arms. She stepped back.

Her mouth hung slightly open and the curiosity in her eyes was tainted by tears for the pain he had suffered. It was so different, but he was not totally sure about what it was different from. She looked hurt, but she seemed to be hurting for him. It was as if she did not care about what happened in his world or how much he would ever tell her, only about him. She was worried about him and that felt strange.

She knew the feelings in her in that moment. She remembered feeling that way or at least close to it, when her sister had been in a car accident and went into a coma for two months. She felt for him, she felt what he felt in a way. It was something that she had not associated with a man for a very long time. She put her hands together in front of her lips as if in prayer but still stared at the grisly display.

After a few moments, she asked, “When was the last time you went out during the day?”

He sat down and picked up his sandwich, “A long time ago. I told you, I’m scared of the dark and the things in it.”

“How did that, the bruise, happen?”

“A girl with a bat, and a few other things since. They seem to know where to hit you when you’re hurt.” He looked up as if he had made a wry joke. He took a bite of his sandwich and she sat on the arm of his chair. He looked over out of the corner of his eye, a little uncomfortable and then she just seemed to fit, like a piece to a puzzle he had been working on for years. He ate his sandwich and he drank his milk and she rubbed the healthy parts of his back, watching with a look of motherly concern and all the while he wondered what would be the end of such a thing.

Brick and James started walking, following directions to a place not far from Erzebet’s. They were going to talk to someone called Lotavlavic. They were doing alright for a couple of hunters who had nothing left and nowhere to really go. They had found some help, or a warm welcome to a quick end, if they were lucky and that was better than two guys alone against the forces of darkness in a city that caters to the horrid, the ungodly and the demented. The streets were quiet and the night was warm. It was looking up. This meant that they were in the eye of the storm, if you asked James.

Brick pulled out the address and double checked it against the numbers on the doors or the walls and found they were at the right place. They walked into the nice building and looked around. The tile was freshly waxed and recently mopped. A guard stood watch at the door and there were potted plants about the floor. They walked to an elevator and Brick hit the call button. They waited patiently.

The elevator came and they got in. It seemed to take forever. The doors closed too slowly and the elevator refused to move for what seemed like an eternity. Then it jerked and it seemed like the time between floor lights going off was hours instead of seconds. Then Brick noticed that there was no thirteenth floor. He had been told to hit the twelve and fourteen, but he had not noticed that thirteen was not there until the light for the twelfth went off.

The light went out and Brick and James stared at the panel. Seconds seemed to stand still and then the elevator seemed to stop. The lights flickered. James pulled out his shotgun and Brick put his back against the wall of the elevator. The doors started to open and then stuck. There was darkness beyond. Then the doors opened the rest of the way. Lights blared into life, electric sconces that lined the walls. The hall was a straight white path that led to a door at the end that was black save for a white door knob.

They started down that hall slowly. They both took turns looking over their shoulders. Brick looked over to James, “You know, this gets creepier every time we do something.”

“It’s not supposed to be like this. It’s too fast, too much, too everything. It’s like a freak show parade through New York and we’re the ones who are waiting to see the grand fuckin’ finale. I don’t get this, either its doomsday, or we’re already dead.”

The hall seemed to last forever. It was still amazing to James that anticipation and anxiety could make time tick by so incredibly slowly. They came to the door and Brick nervously grabbed the knob. He tried it and it spun. He heard the latch click. The room was dark and silent.

They stepped in and James ran his hand along the wall and clicked on the lights. The room was part of an apartment. There was a couch, several chairs and tables. Books were everywhere, hundreds of them. Some were open and others were in stacks that were easily a dozen high. Some were so new the binding was not creased, while others were leather bound tomes that had pages of yellowed paper that had been hand scribed. There were pictures, maps and drawings posted on the walls. There were several models of pyramids that were cut in half to show the passages. They walked through a door and the next room was a large central room with a couch set in the floor with steps between the cushions so you could walk into the sunken area. There were glass cases everywhere. They were filled with vases, carvings, paintings, weapons, armor, clothing and tools that were all on display. It was like walking into a museum.

They walked around the sunken couch staring at the various antiques. Brick was lost on a jade plate from China and James stopped at a strange plank of wood. Brick looked toward him and then walked over to him. “What the hell is that?”

“It’s a surfboard, a really old surfboard and if I’m guessing right, that means that this guy was in Hawaii before Hawaii was Hawaii. There are tikis, boards, a grass skirt that should have been gone ages ago, and then there’s all that other shit. I’m telling you, I think all this is real, I mean really real.” He stroked the glass.

They walked around for a while and then they went through a doorway and into a hall. It was lined with bookshelves. The books were all ancient. James looked at Brick and shook his head, “I don’t know, man, how all this stuff be in one place and no one could know about it?”

“Don’t know, I don’t know.”

They walked along, checking the rooms as they went. Each one was another library or museum. It was amazing. It was as if hundreds of lifetime’s worth of things had been collected and stored and packaged and brought to one time. James found himself thinking that maybe, just maybe, vampires were not so different from the mortals that they came from. They walked on and on. The entire floor was a museum dedicated to life and the many cultures of the world, everything from modern American to ancient Egyptian. There were records from eons ago and drawings and maps drawn by men who would never have believed that the world was round.

Then they came to the last room. It was dark. They stepped across the threshold and they started looking for a light. Then James took out a flashlight and saw that the room was made to look older. The entire room was antique, a table of polished oak, Benches for chairs, and Old book shelves that probably predated most nations. There were oil lamps sitting on small, ornate tables around the room and one in the center of the room. Several books had been thrown down on the table rather abruptly from the way they laid strewn and pages only partly folded under books that were face down. Brick walked over and gasped.

James ran over with his light and saw the man with his throat slit. There were cuts all up and down his arms and legs and blood seeping out slowly. Brick bent down and grabbed the man’s shoulders and then the man sat up and grabbed Brick. Brick screamed. Then he went silent, his eyes wide and he was trembling violently.

James tried to pull him away, but the man’s grip was too strong. He tried and tried to pull Brick out of that iron grasp. He tried to slap Brick. He shot the man. Neither was moving. Finally he just waited. He waited through an eternity. He waited until the light burnt out and then he waited more. He lost track of time, but he refused to leave his only ally in his desperate fight. He was the watch. He may not be able to save Brick from what was happening, but nothing else was going to happen, not unless James died first.

Allison walked along the street beside Ekatarina. The two were bedecked in their night life finest. Allison was wearing a long blue jean skirt that hugged her butt and a tight tee that was light blue with the words ‘Wanna ride” written across it. Ekatarina was wearing long slacks that hid her long legs and a flowing silky top that was brown and accented her green eyes. The two were walking toward a long line that was testimony to what was behind the doors ahead. They were walking toward a club that Allison had been to many times before.

Ekatarina led Allison around the line and to the front. She looked at the bouncer and he waved her on. Allison looked at Ekatarina and she just smiled. They walked in and discovered the place was packed to the brim. Three stories of dancing, drugs, mock sex and maybe even some real carnal activity. Allison smiled.

Ekatarina looked at her daughter. “They are your pets, your toys. They are yours to punish and reward for you are the goddess that they come here to worship. You are that which they seek to be while they hide in the darkness. You are freed from the price of death. Disease, pain, death, emotional distress are things of the past. What is power to one who cannot die? What is the mortal coil when you are no longer mortal?”

Allison looked around, her eyes falling on every detail. Those precious blue eyes soaked up every color, every movement, and every subtlety, even in the darkest of shadows. She heard the music reverberating and every conversation was as clear as if she were part of it. She felt the undulations of the dancing and the pounding of every beat deep inside her, like the echo of the blood that once flowed through her veins. She could smell every drop of alcohol, every distinct fruit, food, gum, perfume and even the different scents from each person.

Ekatarina watched as her child took in the world she once knew through the senses of a spiritual creature. “You are everything they want to be. Choose one and let yourself feel that one.”

Allison’s eyes fell on a man in a dark suit who was watching a young brunette dance. She focused on him and let herself fill with his scent, his strength. She could smell his blood and the testosterone in it. She started to think that she could feel that this man was entranced by the brunette’s dancing. She let her thoughts linger on him and soon she could hear the man’s thoughts in her head. She was feeling what he felt and it was strange. She knew that it was him and she knew that she could see through his eyes and know what he knew.

“Now, whisper into his mind. Tell him what to think.”

Allison bit her lip and thought, and then she smiled. She was being devilish. She watched as the thought went through him and then he shuddered. He started looking around guiltily. He was almost afraid that someone heard him. Her grin widened.

“They are puppets, your puppets. Have fun.”

Allison started reaching inside of different people and feeling what they felt. She was amazed at the way different people thought. She was even more amazed that she could make people think and say things that they normally would not. One man insulted a woman and had no control over it. A woman tossed her drink at a man. Two women who were both dancing with the same man and enjoying the company started fighting. A bartender punched a woman in the face. They were all weak. Alcohol and drugs only made it easier.

Ekatarina started stroking Allison’s hair as she watched the blue eyes light up with curiosity. Ekatarina’s catlike features seemed even more feline in the pale light of the club. “You can teach them, make them yours. They will die for you, for your blood. At least most of them.”

Allison stopped playing and looked into Ekatarina’s dark green eyes. “What do you mean most?”

“Not all mortals are so weak. You see, the ones that come to places like this are often looking for something, usually themselves. You were, but now, I have given you purpose. You see, there are men of faith that believe in something so much that you cannot touch them at times. There are women who have learned to trust themselves so much that it is nearly impossible to break them. But, under stress, even the strong can be broken. No one’s willpower will last forever. For them, there are other ways; temptation, threats, fear. Remember, you can rule over them with your mind and your body. They cannot hurt you. Knives and bullets are meaningless to you now. You are forever.”

“But, aren’t there…vampire hunters or something?”

Ekatarina laughed, “That is why you are here, to kill the real threat to us. You see, there are hunters and they must die. To kill them, you must learn how. They are dangerous foes to most like us, but you have the blood of an ancient in your veins. You are far more powerful than most vampires. You can control even the undead with but a thought. Hunters are nothing but a more interesting prey for one like you.”

Allison looked back at the first man. She started talking, “His name is Greg Henshaw. He is a broker for a firm here in the city. He has a wife of seven years and two young children. He has everything going for him and he left them at home, alone for a night out, pretending to be single so he can cheat on his wife. The brunette he’s watching is a sixteen year old girl who has slit her wrists four different times, tried to overdose on heroin twice and mixes drugs like candies. She wants to die because her mother raped her when she was twelve. I think they would make a real nice couple.”

Ekatarina grinned a small, devious, feline grin. “Go, be the teacher they search for.”

Allison felt the man’s thoughts and then started thinking for him. He walked over to the youthful brunette. He started chatting. The girl was oblivious to the words coming out of the man’s mouth. All the girl knew was that he was cute, older and interested. She started grinding on him and found that his body was solid, firm muscle and after a few moments, his muscle was not all that was solid. She was smiling up into the man’s eyes and he started caressing her young flesh.

After a while the two walked off the dance floor. He went to get a drink and when he was not looking, she popped a few pills. She followed after him. He handed her a drink and they both drank greedily. Then she took him by the hand and led him up a few flights of stairs through people making out in the shadows. They went up to a floor where there were offices and VIP rooms. She took a key out of her night bag and opened one of the doors. She had fucked in the room many times before.

They went in and she wasted no time. She locked the door from the inside and then pushed him against the cherry desk. She dropped to her knees and started massaging his prick with her face. Allison could still feel the two. She knew what they were both doing and thinking and she was enjoying the fact that a common, good man was doing something so wrong. It proved so many beliefs she had.

Ekatarina caressed Allison’s face with long, delicate, smooth fingers. “Men are not worth the life they are given. They are ignorant fools who struggle with their identities until they die. They torture all around them. There is no such thing as a good man.”

Allison’s concentration was broken. “You can hear my thoughts?”

“You are my daughter, I am your creator. I can hear your thoughts; I can take away all that I have given you. As you are a goddess to them, I am a queen and angel to you. It is the way of the vampire that what we give unlife to, we control, and we are responsible for, if merely because we are forever connected by the blood and the gifts it gives to us.”

Greg was staring at the ceiling as a sixteen year old girl was giving him the best head he had gotten in his thirty-three years. Her smooth hands massaged his scrotum. Her full lips were warm and firm on his shaft. His wife was gone from his mind, all there was to him was that dark eyed beauty that was kneeling in front of him and making him feel like a god for a short time. It was good to be appreciated.

He did not notice the scars, the circles under her eyes or the fact that her heart rate was fast not because she was attracted to him, but because of the chemicals coursing through her veins. He would not have cared if he did see them. He would not have even asked from where they came. It was of no concern; all that mattered was the sensation in his groin, the heat, the feeling. There was nothing else.

The girl heard something chime on the floor. She looked away from her duties just long enough to see a wedding band roll across the floor and then she shirked the obvious and continued on. She was slowly undressing. She was oblivious to anything and everything, she was not even certain of what she was doing. Only instinct drove her. She was not getting wet, but she wanted to fuck anyway.

Allison joined the two again. In moments, the girl was on the desk, clinging to one edge, her face down on the hard wood, her body twisted so that Greg straddled one leg and held the other over his shoulder. He was sweating as he pounded away. Allison waited, then she drove the man’s mind back to his wife and he slowed. He was just following the motions as he started seeing the woman he married. He looked down and saw the girl. He jerked away. He stumbled back.

She turned and looked at him in disgust, her dark eyes glaring, “What the fuck is your problem?”

He shook his head, “I don’t…”

“You useless piece of shit, you’re not worth my fucking time. You’re a waste of a dick.” She started pulling on her clothes.

Allison planted another thought in the man’s mind. Greg walked over to the girl as she bent down and he put his hands around her neck. He heard her gasping for air. He felt her clawing at his hands and arms. He did not care. He just wanted her to shut up. He felt her gag, he felt her dying and he just kept squeezing and shaking, her hair flying back and forth. Then he felt blood and spittle running over his fingers and Allison let go of his thoughts and reveled in what was going to happen.

Greg let go and his eyes popped open in surprise at what he had just done. He stepped back as the small body fell to the ground, spinning so that she faced the ceiling, landing on her back, her small tits pointing perkily upward. He saw the scars that marred her wrists and the needle tracks in the bends of her elbows. There was froth around her mouth and her throat was blue, black and yellow. The prints were the exact size of his hands and his fingers would have left their traces all over her soft, pale flesh.

He panicked, pulled on his clothes hurriedly and then ran, dragging his suit jacket behind. He pushed through the crowded rooms and stairwells. He busted out onto the street with several bouncers in hot pursuit. Allison was more than pleased with her punishment for Greg.

He ran down the street and ducked into the first dark alleyway. He dropped to his knees, ignorant of the wet pavement and the stench. He rubbed his face as he cried. He wailed and shouted and then stood. He kicked boxes and slung his jacket. He was experiencing torment, the kind that eats away at your soul and shows you that you are not nearly the person you thought.

“God, no. I didn’t mean it; I swear I didn’t mean it. I don’t know why I did it. I don’t. Don’t do this to me; don’t let me lose my family. Please, God, don’t…” he trailed off as Allison stepped from the shadows. She smiled. He backed up into the wall. Her blue eyes widened and then the shadows wrapped around him and he saw death descending down on him. There was no time for prayer, no chance for confession. He saw the face of the angel of death and it was beautiful. He saw the coming hell in the eyes of a girl and knew that he was to pay the price for a life lived in vain, and childish foolishness. He felt the piercing bite. He felt the blood pour from him, his body going cold. He felt his soul ripping away from his stiffening body. He fought to keep his eyes from rolling back. He kept saying to himself, slightly aloud through blood frothed lips, “God no, please, God, not like this, please.” His pleading fell on deaf ears, or God perhaps thought the end justified. There was no saving himself from his last sins. There was no redemption for a murderer. He was having life taken from him just as he had taken it, slowly, painfully, with a struggle and the knowledge that no matter what, there was no other way than death.

Next Chapter: Night 8