Demon Vampire

by Virgil Moore

  Suddenly, a single hand reached down through the mist. It pulled him up with great speed and ease. It flung him onto a solitary patch of land relatively nearby.

  He fell onto all fours and coughed up the liquid he had aspirated. The mist cleared. The plot of soil wasn’t big, no more than a hundred square feet. There was no vegetation, no sign of fertility underneath him, only tarnished, partially wet sand.

  “You are a demon vampire, just as they said,” the Russian accent gave him away. “I mean demon vampeal.” He extended a welcoming hand.

  This wasn’t the deep voice he was used to hearing in these situations. He expected the sky to open up and blood to rain down at any moment. But none of it happened. There were no whispers in the back of his mind this time. No feeling to guide him to action.

  “You’re the Russian vampire,” he wiped his face clean.

  “It’s Yugo, and I haven’t considered myself Russian since I was consulting for the Romanov family. I was always quite bashful when Peter called me into his council room.”

  “Romanov? You mean you knew a Russian Tzar?” he asked Yugo without hesitation.

  “I’m impressed. From what I’ve read about you, I didn’t think you knew that much about history,” Yugo brushed some of the red water off of Zack’s black suit.

  “What is this place?” he took off his soaked jacket.

  “You should know well what that sea represents. You’ve seen it by now.” He grinned, “in your dreams.” He raised his hands to the surrounding ocean as it roared and swelled, “you have one too. It is the direct representation of the demon that lives inside a vampire host,” he waved his open arms to the landscape around them and then gestured to the loose sand, “and this is the rest.”

  “The demon inside? I thought it was related to the thirst caused by the virus?” he recalled what Kyli had told him.

  “That’s right for everyone, except us.” Yugo tilted his head up to the sky, “what’s out there is them. What’s beneath us is all that’s left.”

  “What do you mean?” he didn’t follow.

  “In your dreams, what is it like?” Yugo asked.

  “In my dreams? I don’t remember exactly.” he didn’t want to admit to Yugo what happened during the concert. The flood of nightmares and sensual images he had seen over the last few days.

  “Then tell me what he is like,” Yugo paused for his words to sink in.

  “Who are you-” he knew exactly who. He just didn’t want to admit it, or recognize that he had been talking to someone in his head.

  “-The demon,” Yugo cut him off and waiting for a reply.

  He gave nothing as he thought about the visions of Kyli laid out in the dead clearing. The blood soaked visage of her naked body. The words that would resonate in his head as he thought about the silky taste of pure and nourishing blood.

  “In your dream world, Zack. What is the terrain like?” Yugo broke the silence and got to the heart of the matter.

  He wanted to answer, he was compelled to, “there’s a large shoreline.” He was reluctant to go any further.

  “And a sea of blood?” Yugo’s words struck a chord.

  “How did you know?” He wanted a clear answer.

  “Look around you,” Yugo stated the obvious.

  “I’m not talking about that. How did you know about my nightmares? About the demon calling at me?” He wanted the bigger answer.

  “You are a smart one,” Yugo smiled.

  “You didn’t answer the question,” he was angry.

  “And quick too,” Yugo smiled wider. “The same as the others have and will find out.”

  “That’s still not an answer,” he barked in frustration.

  “I know,” Yugo stopped smiling. He stepped away from him and turned to the sea. “I know because I used to have the same type of dreams. I know because the demon once called on me in my sleep. I know because this is my dream world.”

  The upper clouds parted. The sky opened. There was no sun, only a red tint to the world. It was desolate. As he tried to digest the sheer size of the world he was in, the mist receded back from the island. For miles, there was nothing but the red ocean, no signs of life or land. The world was empty, consumed.

  “But it’s not all bad. They do have their perks.” Yugo saw the question on his face, “they provide us with amazing gifts to wield.”

  “What gift? I’ve got nothing from it but a damn migraine! What the hell kind of present is that!?” he was furious over what having this ‘gift’ had brought him.

  Yugo approached him, “calm down. The demons that reside in you and I are powerful tools. They can be used against their will for our gain.”

  “Really? For some reason I don’t think a naked vampire posing as my girlfriend bathed in blood would listen to any request I might have! Not from all the weird shit it’s told me so far!” he was upset. This was the first real time he just didn’t give a damn what happened to him. The feeling of pressure was gone from his head. There was nothing urging him to press any further. What remained was his irritation over the situation. “I keep having these whacked out dreams and people keep telling me that there are more and more reasons for others to want to kill me! I didn’t ask for this!”

  “But you did,” Yugo said plainly.

  Chapter Sixty Two

  Talking To A Demon

  Yugo laughed, “then he spoke to you?”

  “He? I thought it was an it,” Zack lowered his voice as he thought about the ramifications of the conversation.

  “No, they were once people,” Yugo sighed.

  “I thought the ‘demon’ only referred to the level of power the gift had? That those with them were feared for what they could do because of their talent?” he attempted to keep his calm. He direly wanted to know more.

  “You know much for only drinking your first sip of blood a day ago. These are secrets only the demons and a few others know. The finer details are astounding and unnerving, not for the weak,” Yugo stared at him. “You just may be right after all.”

  “For what?” he didn’t like the tone.

  Yugo didn’t answer.

  He concentrated on his face in the silence. He appeared more human in this place than at the table. His fangs were gone. There were no scars. He had color to his complexion.

  “They would want you to think they are all powerful, that their course is the only path. They will tell you they are the omega to each age. They are wrong and can be manipulated,” Yugo’s words resonated within Zack.

  “You mean they can be tricked?” he perked up.

  Yugo bent down and slapped his knees with both hands and smiled, “yes!”

  This was interesting. The voice in the back of his head had bothered him. It had sent him frightening images. It tempted him with blood. He enjoyed the idea of turning the tables. Yugo was about to give him the best advice he would ever get. He was eager to know more, “tell me everything.”

  “Not everything, only what I can. Anything I tell you will pass down to your demon. It is my guess that he is far more coercive than you give him credit. However, I applaud you for reaching out to me like this. Is this the first time you’ve used it?”

  “Used what?” he asked.

  “Your lesser demon gift,” Yugo said with an evil undertone.

  “You mean I did this?” he look around.

  “Yes. This is my dream. But it is your gift that brought us here,” Yugo told him. “Has it happened before?”

  He nodded as he thought of Kyli’s dream world.

  “Demon gifts are much more capable than elder vampires would ever know about. The demons have greater and lesser abilities. Unlike regular vampire gifts, they are special. It is these minor gifts that allow us to fight the gods of our world. Considering you are here, you have a minor telepathic ability that your demon grants you.” Yugo seemed to know everything relevant to his situation.


  “Is that rare?” he loosened his wet neck tie.

  “It’s not a unique gift.” Yugo saw his face drop. He was clearly disappointed. “That’s not to say it isn’t all-powerful. It requires blood to fuel, unlike a normal gift, blood power that accumulates for the purpose of the greater ability the demon wields. It is like a reserve tank of energy. It can be drained by the minor uses.”

  He asked the question that was at the tip of his tongue, “what happens when the tank is full?”

  “Nothing good,” Yugo commented grimly.

  “What happens?” he persisted.

  “The demon awakens. It commands its power directly through your body.” Yugo turned away.

  “And if I don’t particularly want that?” he didn’t like where this was going for him.

  “It’s not up to you. By then you will be dead, and it will have full use over its terrifying greater gift,” Yugo’s information was damning.

  “That’s the worst case?” he wanted to be prepared and know what the extremes were.

  “No. Worse case, the world population will go down,” Yugo grumbled. “Before that, their gift activates.”

  “And what is that exactly?” he sat down on a small boulder in the sand.

  “Your demon knows what it is capable of. Unfortunately, I do not.” Yugo sat down and crossed his legs in the sand.

  “Did it pick me?” he wanted to know.

  “No, your demon is merely wondering as all of them are to their hosts,” Yugo explained.

  He could feel that there was something more to it than that, “do you know what yours is? Did it ever tell you?”

  “Yes it did,” Yugo smiled.

  “Willingly?” his attention was piqued.

  “No,” Yugo answered quickly.

  “How?” he leaned forward.

  “I tricked it.” Yugo adjusted his legs.

  “And?” he wanted to know how he might be able to demand his demon stop harassing him. To find a way to stop the temptations in blood.

  “Disaster,” Yugo sulked.

  “What do you mean? Did it do something to you?” he shifted on the boulder and placed his hand down. The sand felt eerily similar to the forest floor in Kyli’s dream. It was alive but different.

  “This is the fruit of my gamble,” Yugo looked around. He stared at the mist in the distance then to the ground, “the result of my delicately crafted ploy, a little island of humanity to call my own, and nothing else.”

  “Humanity? You’re a vampire.” he didn’t see the connection.

  “We’re all human Zack. We’re just infected with something that’s changed the rules. How we live, how we survive, has been altered. You are in a volatile situation.” Yugo extended his hand out above the soil. A chair formed under it. He climbed into it, “learn to embrace it.”

  “How am I supposed to do that if I’m dead?” he argued.

  “Do it before.” Yugo’s simple sentence shut him down.

  He waited. He didn’t know what to say next.

  “I’ll tell you another secret. The river, lake, seas of blood, they’re not what you need to worry about. It is the rest of it, the events that make us, that form us. Our individuality is what’s most important to any vampire or vampeal that lives long enough. Especially in our unique circumstance.” Yugo took a handful of sand. He let it pour down the sides of his open palm, “the erosion that develops in our mind is a clock. Its hands tell us how much time is left.”

  “Until what?” he knew very well what he meant. He just didn’t want to believe it.

  “It wins and we cease to exist,” Yugo tipped his hand to let the sand fall completely.

  His breath became faint. He felt a pressure on his neck. It was a tightness that was uncomfortable at first. It build and quickly began to choke him.

  Yugo leaned back in his chair, “now get out of here. Go back to your own body before you die on me and this conversation becomes worthless.”

  The mist closed in around Yugo. He disappeared in the haze. The red tint vanished as table returned. He remembered this feeling. He had experienced it before with the cabinet doors before he woke up in his bed. It was new but the same. Reality faded back into existence from the dream world. They were back in the small crowded room.

  Chapter Sixty Three

  The After-Hours Proposal

  Yugo stared at Zack. His eyes were compassionate. He raised his hand towards Marin, “stop.”

  Marin let go and he collapsed forward on the table.“Marin, he will be of better use to us alive. It seems Zack Giver has a talent that is quite extraordinary. For that, he will be given more time,” Yugo stood up from the table. He walked to the door. Everyone in the room turned to watch him.

  He coughed in an attempt to recover his breath. Bruises had formed on his neck. He breathed heavily.

  Marin stood and helped Zack up to his feet, “we’re leaving.” He escorted him to the door.

  Yugo held the door open, and waited for them to pass. “You are an interesting person Zack.” He whispered into his ear, “remember what you learned in the dream world. Do this and we will surely meet again.” He waved goodbye in a pleasant, genuine manner to everyone else in the room. He closed the door behind them as he ushered them to the inner hallway. He smiled they left.

  He leaned on a nearby wall. He coughed again to clear his lungs. He noticed his reflection in a small dusty mirror. His neck was sore, but no longer bruised. He turned to Marin, “you didn’t have to do that.”

  Marin squeezed his right arm and threw him across the hall instantly. He held him to the wall before the drywall could reverberate the motion. There was no impact sound in the way he attacked. It was unreal. His fingers pressed into his chest. He pushed slowly and pierced the skin as he deflated his rib cage.

  His fears were realized. Marin was there to kill him. There was no room to cough, or struggle. He was pinned, his feet were unable to touch the ground. There was no room to scream. He couldn’t argue with what Marin was about to say.

  “You are of interest to Yugo. Sometimes he can be a bit too pragmatic in covering for everything. You may have something to offer him before we tear your heart out,” Marin pushed. There was no emotion on his face. He was calm, cold.

  Marin’s fingers let up slightly. It allowed him to take a breath and speak again, “what are you talking about?”

  “It’s simple. There are more people that know what you are than you realize. Though it would seem that death has been delayed on account of something Yugo may have found inside of you.” His blank expression was unnerving. He looked into his eyes, “did you think no one would find out?”

  Blood began to stain his white shirt.

  He wasn’t sure of what to say, the pain began to fade away as the headache returned. He only felt it when Marin’s fingers moved and shifted. “How the hell could that be? I just found out myself.”

  “There are more ways than you know,” Marin watched the blood trail down his chest.

  “So what then? Kill me?” he pressed the issue. He could feel his strength coming back.

  “No. It’s more complicated than that,” Marin said.

  “So what then? What happens now?” he struggled to take another breath. He was able to push in chest outward to inhale. Marin’s fingers gave a little.

  “Until then, smile.” Marin let him down. He removed his fingers as he let him drop to the ground.

  He panted and gasped for air as he doubled over.

  Marin opened a tiny cooler near the far side of the barricaded door. He reached for a small bottle. He walked over to place it in his right hand directly, “make yourself presentable again.”

  His stared at Marin. He was insane to think everything might be able to revert to what it was before that room. Before that dream.

  Marin smiled as he adjusted his tie. “Don’t worry. No one will care about the blood stain out there. It’s not human
.” He turned to face the hallway and spoke over his shoulder, “now we have a party to get back to, and you have a beautiful woman to woo.”

  Chapter Sixty Four

  The Unwelcome Guest

  Del had crossed into eastern Spain. His trip from Madrid was quick on foot. He moved at night and killed any highwaymen that unwittingly attempted to prey upon him. The time spent traveling hadn’t been kind to him. His hair was matted and his suit was coated with layers of old dried blood. There was a distinct smell coming off of him that was reminiscent of death. His eyes still shined a blood red. It demonized his appearance even further. They were even more apparent in his run down state.

  During the night he came across a single hut in the middle of a large open pasture. Inside was a young woman making stew. The smell pervaded the air. It reminded him of how wonderful a home cooked meal was to a worn throat.

  She hummed something that he couldn’t quite make out. He came closer and sat next to the wall of the hut in order to listen. The rickety wood shook as a gust of wind blew by. She stopped for a moment and then continued. She was singing an English nursery rhyme.

  “Mary had a little lamb. Its fleece was white was snow,” she sang it to a different tune than normal. It sounded like it was made up on the spot.

  He peeked through a knothole in one of the shutters. The hut was more of a shack than a place of dwelling. Inside was a young vivacious woman dressed in peasant farm clothing. She appeared to be vigorously stirring the stew over the fire. Her chest rocked to the soft motion of her arms in a circle. Her long untamed black hair flowed down over her left shoulder. She was beautiful. Beads of sweat poured down her skin. He wondered what she was doing in such a place all by herself.

  “Mary had a little lamb, Mary had a little lamb, Mary had a little lamb,” she sang the same line over and over again as she began to sadden. The voice that was once bright and chipper, lowered. She lamented on something. As she stirred the pot, her pace slowed. Something bothered her. He felt something was wrong.

  He approached the only door to the hut. He called out to the woman inside, “hello?”