Demon Vampire

by Virgil Moore

  “So what was on the tie?” he had a feeling that it wasn’t the most understanding of words.

  “When you get to the dance floor, sneak a peek at the old one in the black light. At least this way you won’t look like an idiot to the humans in the crowd,” Marin told him.

  “And what about the vampires?” he wanted to know where he stood and just how much danger he was in.

  “They already know you don’t belong here. The tie just made it more obvious,” Marin straightened his own suit and checked him out. The blood stains in his shirt were too obvious, “Sorry about that. I didn’t meant to ruin your short like that.”

  “It’s not my shirt,” he chuckled. He couldn’t feel the lacerations in his chest anymore.

  “I’m glad to know I at least destroyed one of David’s shirts in the process,” Marin grinned and showed his fangs.

  He looked at his chest. The holes had closed up and were nearly healed. He hadn’t even drank the bottled blood yet.

  Marin walked over to a large rack of dust jacketed clothing in the back part of the hall. He pulled out a white shirt, “this should fit. But drink up first, you don’t want to ruin this one as well.”

  He gulped the bottle down and removed his jacket and loosened the tie. He changed shirts and refastened everything. The wounds had closed.

  “Good to know I can be sure about a few things,” Marin smiled at him. He looked him up and down one last time, “that’s better. Now let’s impress your date,” he smiled a very large, sinister grin. He had something else in mind.

  Marin led him back to Kyli as the pulsing music came to an end.

  She let her arms drop with the beat. She immediately pawed on Zack’s chest, “what are you doing back?” She looked at Marin. Her heart raced, “you didn’t hurt him did you?”

  “I didn’t kill him,” Marin said plainly and honestly.

  He adjusted his collar. His neck was numb.

  “Zack was telling me about an interesting thing. He mentioned a dream he had in which there was an ocean of blood,” Marin stared at him.

  He was surprised. He looked at her, then back to Marin, “yes, of course. What else did I say about that again?” He didn’t know what Marin’s goal was, but he didn’t like the idea of arguing with him either.

  “You suggested that we all have our dreams painted by a psychic artist, as a treat for Kyli, a present of sorts. He said it would be nice to see your dreams and how beautiful they were after he mentioned it during our conversation about why vampires dream,” Marin said with a smile, gesturing to him, then her.

  “I did?” his expression was flush as he stared back..

  “You did?” she asked.

  “I did,” he proclaimed proudly. He felt that he should play along with whatever Marin wanted to show them.

  “Then let me guide you to an experience that will reveal the treasures of your mind.” Marin gestured to him, “thanks to Zack of course for the idea.”

  He placed his arm around her. She was cold this time. Her normal warmth had been stripped away by something. “You’re welcome,” he smiled. He turned to her with a question that she didn’t answer. Something just wasn’t right.

  Marin grinned, “just make sure you remember who to thank for introducing you to her.”

  The message had a double meaning for him, though he didn’t fully understand it at the time. He pondered the idea for a minute, but her neck was too hungry for attention. He lost the focus of the conversation.

  They all made their way through the crowd and to the front door. Her painted body drew ample eyes as they exited. Every male, and even some of the females in the room stared. They all watched her pass. Their path was barred by no one as the bouncers cleared the way for Marin and his companions to proceed. The red rope was held open for them as was the door going directly to the opening of the theater.

  There was a large stretch limo parked next to the curb. Her station wagon might have looked like a land yacht, but this was a vessel worthy to be called a luxury vehicle in the sea of cars that treaded the night. The silver accents on the door handles shined against the red LED lights strung outside of the concert exit.

  Her glowing neckline disappeared as the black lights shed from view. Marin placed his right hand on the handle. There was a distinctive sizzle as he held it open. A drop of blood fell to the sidewalk from his hand. Zack was oblivious to the event. He kept his mind on her as she climbed into the limo. The line on her neck reappeared with the rest of the glowing paint as she entered. She enthralled him. He didn’t even notice who else was in the limousine as he sat next to her in the middle of the vehicle.

  Marin slipped in and shut the door. He sat against the only entrance to the back cabin. He closed his right hand for a moment, then opened it. It had healed.

  The limo driver let off the brake. “Where to?” his voice was soft, effeminate.

  “Cherry’s place,” Marin said as he reclined in the leather seat.

  “Who’s Cherry?” Kyli didn’t know the name. She considered herself well informed in Marin’s matters, a requisite when dealing with a well-known and very respected vampire that knew the fact she was a vampeal. David made sure that she knew everyone Marin knew as a measure of added protection. She was constantly told to never trust those who were not vetted personally by him. She was very alarmed.

  “Calm down. Everything will be okay as long as I’m next to you,” his words were honey to her nerves. He put his right hand onto her left thigh. It was smooth and pleasant to touch. It had warmed up again. It was inviting. A chill rang through her skin as he caressed her. She clearly enjoyed it.

  She was still apprehensive, “that’s not what I meant, Zack.” She took his hand off of her leg. She didn’t want him to lead them into an inescapable situation. There was already too much of the situation that was alien to her. Marin should have never came back with him. Whatever was about to happen, this was new territory for her. She knew she was fast and skilled with many weapons, but Marin was a full, bound-in-blood vampire. If she stood against him she’d be dead before her heart could race the fear to her veins. She linked her arm with Zack’s. It was cool to touch, intoxicating. “We can’t do this,” she whispered into his ear.

  He leaned over to her and whispered back, “honestly, what could happen that hasn’t already been threatened?” His words weren’t his own again. There was an ironic poetry to them that disturbed and intrigued her. He was right but he shouldn’t know he was that right.

  She squeezed his bicep. It was rock hard. “Did something happen in there while I was gone?”

  “More than you know,” he sat back and rubbed her hand under his.

  “What could have happened in the fifteen minutes you were gone?” she was confused as she put emphasis on her underlined point. He shouldn’t know more than her. He was the mark. He wasn’t supposed to know anything more than what she had told him.

  “Now, now, my guests. We’re here. Let’s make our way to a wonderful experience,” Marin waved his hand to the door as the limo came to a stop.

  He saw nothing of interest outside. There were some old one story worn buildings and a single black door with a red handle in the middle of them. The moment came and he recognized what it was. It was Cherry’s place, the residence of a vampire.

  The driver pulled around to the side of the building. It looked like an apartment complex. This didn’t appear to be the home of a vampiric psychic artist.

  While he had a moment, he checked the red tie in the black light of the limo. It read: ‘Goblets are NOT Instruments’ in large lettering. He chuckled and thought about how much trouble he would have been in if Marin didn’t have the restraint he did. He could be dead but he wasn’t. He was never supposed to walk out of that dark hallway. He was never supposed to see her again. But he did. And he wondered what it was all about. There was a secret here that everyone was in on except him. He decided to follow along and
go deeper into the mystery. Something inside him wanted to know.

  Marin leaned over to him, “I told you.”

  She couldn’t bring herself to think about what Marin said. She was too worried about where they were.

  The driver got out and opened the door. He was poignant as he stood straight. But his long straight black hair covered most of his face. The hard shadows cast from the strong street lamps covered the rest.

  She got out first, then he did. Marin followed. Most of the area wasn’t paved. It was filled with small bits of gravel. Dry dirt wisped around as small dust devils leaped up from the ground. It was desolate.

  “It’s this one,” Marin said from thirty feet away. He had spanned the distance without a sound. He stood next to the black door.

  “Of course it’s the black one,” he said to himself and began to walk. He thought about what he was about to do, “it’s always the darkest path.”

  She tugged his jacket sleeve as he stepped forward, “don’t do this, Zack.”

  “But it’ll be fun. Besides, your dad knows this guy. He’s even your idol. What’s wrong with having a picture painted?” He wanted dearly to relax from the stressful time he endured with Marin and Yugo a short while ago. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen in there, but he was sure that Marin didn’t want to kill him. So he pushed to know more.

  She stood close to him, “I don’t know this Cherry. We can’t risk being near a vampire that might find out what we are.” She was being unjustifiably cautious and she knew it. There was a limit to what she could say without letting him in on what was actually happening. She was in a corner and she knew it. She had to find some way to pull them both out.

  “What could happen really?” He could feel her unease. He like how she was worried about him, about them both.

  “Pretend you actually suggested this idea in the first place,” she said boldly to him. It was her last effort to get them out of there alive.

  He thought about the reality of the situation. There were no options here. It was follow the deadly menacing vampire musician, or die.

  She furthered her point, “a vampiric psychic artist paints the inner dream world of the subject she interacts with. She enters the mind of the person through a deep meditation or with constant touch.”

  “So it’s a type of gift. Can it be trumped by another psychic gift?” he asked as he thought about the lesser demon gift Yugo said that he had.

  “The term psychic isn’t necessarily a vampire gift. So no. It’s most often an offshoot of the dormant empathic ability of the person magnified by the vampiric change. She could have another actual vampire gift that we would have to deal with if this turns bad,” she streamed through the explanation.

  “This is already bad. We’re just trying to prevent it from getting worse,” he leveled with her.

  She grabbed him and pulled him close to her, “we can’t go in there.”

  “Is there a problem?” Marin shouted politely from the distance.

  “We can and will,” he held her body tight. She was warm again. It felt nice as she pressed her flesh to his.

  She eased back and turned in fear of the moment, “sorry, we’re coming,” she shouted back to Marin. She walked with Zack and spoke softly to him, “just remember what these people do. They read the dream worlds of others and paint them as seen. They are the mirrors that reflect the soul inside.” She peered into his eyes and stared. “Aren’t you afraid of what she might find?”

  Something inside of him responded. A strong sensation urged him say it. It forced him to speak out and ask the question, “are you?”

  She continued to stare at him as they walked, “are you feeling okay? You seem a little different.” She liked it. She loved it in fact.

  He caressed the back of her neck. The motion felt good to her. It was sensual, gentle, and welcome. It was cool, powerful. She reveled in it.

  “Zack-” she tried to argue.

  “It’s the only way,” he said to her as his demeanor returned.

  She took a hold of his hand and stopped him, “the only way?” She thought about running away with him to a secluded room and spending a better time together than this through the rest of the night.

  “To have a painting showing how beautiful your mind is,” he was thoughtful in his intentions. “And to get through this alive.”

  She lowered his hand, “they paint everything Zack. You, me, the sky, the river, the forest, the flowing channel of blood, everything.” She gripped his arm.

  Marin appeared to Zack’s right. “I was polite. I invited you in a second time. The third is not a request. It is an ultimatum,” his voice was stern. He took a hold of each of their arms and walked them to the door. “Now knock.”

  He raised his hand next to the silver peephole in the black door. He wondered if his hand would sizzle like Marin’s.

  “Knock softly, but with intent,” Marin was forceful in his words.

  He knocked three times with no answer, then knocked again with no reply.

  “Try the handle,” Marin suggested.

  The door handle was strangely warm in his hand. He attempted to open it. His effort was met with a locked cylinder and a firm deadbolt above. The door was solid. “What now? It’s locked.”

  “She is home, only unconscious,” Marin stepped in front of Zack and let go of both of them. He put the back of his hand against the door just above the handle and below the lock. He gently pushed. It opened. The wood in the frame cracked and broke under the pressure. The metal deadbolt easily and smoothly bent out of its bracket. He hadn’t exerted any force. He smiled through the entire action. With a gentle voice, he spoke, “after you, Mr. Giver.”

  Chapter Sixty Seven

  What Lies Within

  Zack surveyed the deadbolt as he passed it. The metal was bent smoothly. It wasn’t broken in the least. He glanced at Kyli, who hadn’t taken a pause at Marin’s superhuman gesture. It was unreal. If steel was butter in his hand, bone was simply an action to be taken without any resistance. The concept didn’t sit well.

  The inside of the home was dark, but the moon shined through the windows to provide ample light to distinguish the staple furniture throughout the house. The room was dirty. He could see several paintings that hung on the walls but it was too dark to see what they were of. However red was definitely a predominant theme.

  “These must be the vampire portraits,” he proposed.

  She scoffed, “that’s right, your eyes haven’t fully adjusted have they? It’ll only take time. You’ll see them soon enough.”“This will help.” Marin flipped the light switch.

  The room opened up to all the colors as the florescent hue flooded the dark. The faint red that he had thought was merely a toned theme in the paintings was far more. Scenes of bleeding corpses walking next to torrents of blood replaced the dim paintings on the walls. The carpet was beige by contrast. Everything in the room appeared to be from the seventies, in good condition, but well-worn and filthy.

  “These are the dreams of the damned while they slumber,” Marin smiled and turned to Zack. “Blood is the commonality that ties us, that links and bleeds the memories these artists paint to make these masterpieces.”

  “I know that voice,” a shrill woman stood up from behind the couch in the center of the room. She was dressed in bright tattered robes that were all mismatched. Her face was thin and tall with sunken jowls. The woman was hard to keep eye contact with. Her pupils were a dark purple that covered the entire eye socket. It was hard to actually tell where her iris began. She was another full vampire. “Marin, what brings you here with such young company this night?”

  He blinked. The woman appeared next to him. She took Kyli’s hand in her palm and stared into her eyes.

  “What are y-” he turned to her. He inhaled as a scent of musk filled his sinuses. It was overwhelming.

  The woman shifted to him. She caressed his cheek. “A vampe
al?” she asked with a squeak in her voice.

  His skin crawled against her haggard tough. Any hope of the charade was up. But he wasn’t scared. His reply was proof of that, “I’m Zack. You must be the psychic vampire, Cherry?” a confidence spoke from within him. It was a needed feeling of reassurance that welled up in him. It felt good.

  The woman was far faster than Marin. He wondered why. Was it age that made her so different, or perhaps speed was her gift? He wanted to know, but he also wanted to live through the encounter.

  “I’m not Cherry. This is one of her psychic dens. I have lived here with three others until last month,” the woman studied his skin. She intensely examined it. “My name is Bethany Tulsan. I’m one of Cherry’s staff psychics.”

  “What happened to the rest of the staff that was living with you?” he dared to ask.

  Bethany stared at him, “they’re all dead. For one reason or another, someone killed them off. I have no need to worry though. My death may be shrouded, but I won’t die by poisoning like they did. I’ll see it coming, whatever it is.” She was very sure of herself. She was very peculiar in her actions. She was very exacting and creepy in all her quick and twitchy motions. “Which one, Marin? The heiress or the child?” she spoke with disdain as she mentioned Zack. She knew he had no right being there.

  “The older one. She will be the baseline for tonight,” Marin took a single folding chair that was leaned up against the wall and opened it. The metal cracked and flaked off in places as he set it down.

  “Now miss, sit down and let us have a peek,” Bethany requested of Kyli.

  She followed the instructions promptly. She didn’t speak. She only nodded her head and remained courteous in front of Marin. Bethany removed a large white crystal necklace from around her neck and began to swing it like a pendulum as she watched. He thought it was some type of hypnosis. A quick way to have her subjects enter the dream state.

  With each undulation of the crystal, her eyes and posture slumped. She tired, but not from any suggestive words uttered from Bethany herself.