Dark Tidings: Volumes I & II

by Gregory M. Smith

  “If I were you, detective, I’d table that fantasy right now,” Coleman warned. “If Ryker is alive, he’s no one to fool with. He was one of the Core...”

  “The what?”

  “N-n-nothing,” Coleman stammered. “Let’s just say that he had a huge target on his back.”

  Coleman glanced at his watch and suddenly pushed back from the table.

  “I’ve got to go. This should cover the snacks and tip. If you hear anything on Ryker, no matter how remote, it would be in your best interest to let us know immediately. We certainly don’t need that maniac messing up things now.”

  Coleman spread some bills on the table, got up and left. Hernandez breathed a sigh of relief. She’d been afraid the meeting would yield very little. She took her phone out and dialed a number.

  “This is Aurelia,” she said, smoothly. “I need everything you can dig up on Cantrell Ryker. C-A-N-T-R-E-L-L. R-Y-K-E-R. I need it as soon as possible. Basic information. Past, aliases, known connections and associates, dead and alive. I need it yesterday. Yes, it’s extremely important. Thanks. And see what kind of connection he had with the Corps. Well, the Marine Corps, I’m guessing, or Corps of Engineers. Hell, check the Naval Sea Cadet Corps.”

  Good Lord, she thought after she cut the connection. What the hell have you gotten yourself into now?

  Truth be told, she had to laugh at the situation. Here were two humans working for vampires – albeit for different reasons, but working for vampires nonetheless. Yet, they sought to call Cantrell Ryker a “maniac.”

  She made a mental note of things to check out ASAP when she got to work the next day. She had to know all she could about Ryker and that meant pulling favors she’d hoped to keep a little while longer. More than likely, she realized, this Ryker person was dead, but having had such a big target on his back meant he had been very effective. That usually meant he had help or allies of some kind – people who would provide sanctuary, medical assistance or weapons. Those people might just take it upon themselves to continue his work.

  She also sensed Coleman seemed extremely nervous. What was going on now, that was so important, that Riordan didn’t need an unexpected distraction like Ryker to interfere? And what was he trying to say when he mentioned Ryker had been part of a corps? Why had he suddenly been so tight-lipped? Just who in the hell was Cantrell Ryker and why would vampires be so afraid of a human?

  She frowned at not knowing and went back to sipping her now cold espresso.

  Horace Garvey and Jessie Kellums stared at the bank of television monitors relaying feeds from hidden cameras all over the compound. Garvey, a tall, lanky man with a penchant for plaid shirts and generic baseball caps, seemed to be making a game of it, trying to catch sight of rabbits and other animals darting in and out of bushes, like he was back on his family’s ranch in Midland. Jessie, a real spitfire with an attitude to match the size of the guns she loved, had given up trying to find out why Horace wasn’t as bored with guard duty as she was.

  The compound, the group occupied, was vast, but did not stand out in the least. For one thing, most of the working, sleeping and eating areas were underground, in refurbished basements and in tunnels rebuilt from the era of Prohibition.

  “Come on, Jessie,” Horace implored. “Loosen up. Don’t tell me you really wanna’ be there?”

  “I just need some action, that’s all,” Jessie replied.

  Horace had been a Marine, like Wesley, but had been wounded four times in Iraq and Afghanistan. He’d been medically discharged after his last Purple Heart, still able to wield a weapon effectively but no longer having the stamina or endurance needed to be a Marine. Needing a job, he found himself personally contacted by Jesus Montoya, who had somehow heard of his encounter with vampires in Fallujah, Iraq.

  Despite being a jarhead, he never craved action like Jessie. He knew she was the only girl in a family with twelve children. She’d gone whole hog in getting herself into shape in order to do everything her brothers could do – run, climb, shoot, fight. Jessie never seemed to want to let a grudge go; if she knew or thought she was right, she’d keep at her opponent until she was publicly acknowledged as being correct. Now, she used those skills to fight an evil that had reduced her eleven siblings to eight.

  “I wouldn’t advise it,” Horace retorted. “You staked that guy last night, but, you also said you almost puked when Ryker took his head off. Why would you want to see another experiment go bad with our resident mad scientist?”

  “Sorry. It’s what happens when you try to keep up with the Kellums,” she replied, with a shrug. She got quiet and Horace knew she was thinking of her brothers Clem, Luke and Daniel.

  Daniel had flat out disappeared two weeks after taking a job in Lincoln, Nebraska. No one knew what happened until the twins, Clem and Luke, double-dated some girls new to Ames, Iowa and unwittingly joined the ranks of the undead. Only when Jessie learned that those girls were related to the woman who had been Daniel’s new boss, did Jessie begin believing all those weird stories she’d heard around town.

  She never got her revenge against any of the women who had taken her brothers from her, but she had found a way to channel her anger. Patrick Wesley had tracked down the women and killed them. Jessie had been there, shame-faced, as she’d been unable to back up all her proclaimed bravado. It was then, Wesley took her under his wing and tried to make her into as efficient a vampire killer as himself. She’d learned a lot, but still had a way to go.

  “Let’s just be glad for small miracles,” Horace said. “Think of it like a Cowboys-Eagles game – sometimes you just want to find out the score afterward and not have to sit through the game, in case it all goes wrong.”

  “Well, let’s sit back and wait for the score then,” Jessie said, with a heavy sigh.

  “Is she ready?” Dolores asked, speaking into a slim microphone.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Michael Lee replied, sitting in the control station, just inside of the medical lab. It had once been an underground supply area for a food bank.

  Inside the lab, Heidi Nguyen lay upon the gurney. She was unconscious, thanks to two shots from one of Van Niekerk’s heavily-modified cattle prods, but Jesus had still ordered her strapped down to the metal table. Many vampires had supernatural strength far beyond what one might expect of a normal person.

  Dr. Patel entered the sealed-off room in surgical garb and mask.

  Dolores and Jesus Montoya watched via closed circuit television. Kelly White Cloud was with them, anxious for the serum to work because she knew how difficult it was to overcome the addiction of the vampire.

  Inside the room with Patel was Lee, monitoring the various machines that showed Heidi’s life functions, which currently consisted of just a slow heartbeat and some brain waves. A few feet away, holding a submachine gun, stood Cantrell Ryker, just in case Heidi rejected the serum and had to be killed. Dolores knew Ryker saved the woman, but she also had no doubt that he could kill her without too much remorse. That much she learned from her friends at Moonrise.

  Jesus murmured a silent prayer. Dolores heard it and smiled quickly to reassure her wary husband. He took a deep breath and leaned down to the microphone.

  “Do it, Doctor Patel.”

  Patel moved over to the gurney. He heard a sharp sound and looked up to see Ryker taking the safety off his gun. Taking a deep breath, he turned back to his patient and raised a hypodermic syringe filled with a red liquid. He wiped an area on Heidi’s throat with an alcohol swab, to kill germs, and then injected the full contents of the syringe into her carotid artery.

  Almost immediately, she woke up, screaming like a banshee, strained against the heavy leather straps holding her down. The straps could hold down a young bull – yet they stretched to their limit to keep Heidi on the table. Patel jumped back.

  “Cantrell!” he called out.

  He watched Ryker rush up and push down hard on Heidi’s chest to restrain her, he held his submachine gun ready in his other hand. Fortunately,
Heidi’s struggles diminished rapidly. Only when, she slipped back into darkness and lay still, did Patel let out a huge sigh of relief, as if he’d forgotten how to breathe.

  “Still no change in vitals, Doc,” Lee reported. “It might take a while.”

  Patel frowned. All of his previous test subjects had shown no immediate reaction, as well. It had taken hours for the side effects to emerge and he hoped it would be different with Heidi. Then again, he chided himself, these things always took time and it was foolish to think that he could change things just by fervently wishing.

  “Give me a status report when she does show a change, Doctor,” Dolores said, through the microphone.

  Outside the lab, Dolores hugged her husband and kissed him lightly on the cheek. She told him that he had to give it time. Reluctantly agreeing, he let her lead him away to the cafeteria. Kelly White Cloud lingered for a moment, pausing to stare at Heidi and feeling more sympathy pangs. Then, she, too, went to the cafeteria to await word.

  Chapter 3

  Diane Simmons wondered what her mother would have thought, to see her only daughter dressed like a street walker. She strutted down Main Street in Sundance Square in a tube dress, so short one misstep could have gotten her arrested for public indecency. The stiletto heels, her ample bosom and seductive mocha skin did nothing to make her situation better.

  Ignoring all the car horns and wolf whistles directed at her, she kept walking straight ahead. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied a tall, casually dressed man running across the street, to catch up with her, as she rounded the corner onto to Belknap. She slowed down to let him overtake her.

  “Whoa, wait up,” the man said, out of breath. “You know you shouldn’t be dressed like that and walking the streets at night.”

  “I can handle myself,” she said, coyly. “Can you handle me?”

  “Well, I was thinking of the cops,” said the man, suddenly a little nervous. “They might think you were a prostitute or something.”

  “But not if you were with me, right?” she asked. “And not with all these other people around. Wouldn’t be good for business, would it? Nice of you to offer, though, Mister, ahem…”

  “Michael,” the man answered, feeling a little bolder now. “Michael Anderson.”

  “I’m Diane,” she cooed, seductively. “So, are you going someplace special, Michael Anderson?”

  “Wherever you are, I guess,” he said, beaming. “Just to make sure you get there safely, of course.”

  “Of course,” she said, with a smile. “Let’s go then.”

  They walked and talked for four blocks, until she stopped at a small building. She pressed some buttons on a keypad and the door opened. Stepping inside the foyer, she held the door open.

  “There’s a party I’m going to, Michael,” she said, seductively. “We’ll do wild things at this party, things that are guaranteed to leave you totally drained. But, before I can invite you, I have to see if you’re worthy. I can almost feel your blood racing, so let’s see what else is pulsing through your body.”

  She leaned against a wall and bent over at the waist, letting her tube dress ride up over her shapely rear. She spread her legs and looked back at a very excited Michael Anderson. He began to unzip. Stepping into the darkness, he closed the door.

  Two minutes later, Diane opened another door and stepped into a larger foyer, her dress pulled back down. Michael Anderson followed, hastily zipping up his pants. He did not look happy. Neither did Diane.

  “I thought a virile man like you would have lasted more than a minute,” she commented, coldly. “I am very disappointed.”

  Suddenly, strong hands grabbed Michael from behind, slamming him against a wall face first, Diane clearly heard his nose break. Diane smiled at the muscular man, with the earrings, who held the bleeding Michael Anderson so firmly. Anderson struggled to no avail and could barely get enough air to breathe, much less protest.

  “Another one failed the test, Diane?” the muscular man asked, with a smirk. “I think you’re just too much woman for any man, Miss Simmons.”

  “Maybe, maybe not, Duke,” she said, coyly. “As for Mr. Anderson, I think he had too much cocaine in his system. You can have him as a gift from me. He’s giving you a little sample right now.”

  “Hear that, pretty boy,” Duke Drexler breathed harshly into Anderson’s ears. “When you dry out, we’ll bleed you out. I like the fear, so I’ll control myself and ignore the urge to taste the blood on your face. Let you stew a little more. How’s that sound, pretty boy?”

  Anderson struggled to look at his assailant. His eyes went wide when he saw the man’s long incisors. He wanted to scream but Duke pulled him back and slammed his head against the wall again. Knocking him out cold. It was probably the only merciful thing Duke would do to him this night. Diane smiled, deviously, and slowly strutted upstairs.

  Diane’s machinations did not go unnoticed. The woman watching her through the closed-circuit television cameras, surreptitiously placed around the building’s lobby, did not know whether to smile at Diane’s actions or curse her out. She aimed her remote at the viewing screen in her apartment’s living room, and pressed a button, turning the screen off.

  Serves you right, she said to herself. She’s just reflection of you, you know.

  Truth be known, Lin Tang could have graced the cover of just about any fashion magazine in the world. She was lithe and well-toned, with a sexuality that would have turned the eye of even the gayest man. She was also a black belt in at least twelve different martial arts, including one the known world was not familiar with. She filled out her black uniform, like a porn star, and she didn’t care what people thought.

  Perhaps that is the problem – this side of you is merely another form of control – and we must always be in control, mustn’t we? No matter how much it hurts.

  Lin shook her head to clear her mind, though she knew it would do no good. She didn’t know how long it had been since she’d first had the other voice in her head, but it had seemed like a lifetime. She wandered over to the shrine and contemplated, as the huge painting of an elderly Chinese man looked down from its place on the fireplace mantle, looking proud and masterful.

  “You taught me so much, Master Chang,” she professed, looking almost pleadingly at the portrait. “Why must I continually have to learn so much more?”

  Of course, she received no answer, at least not from Chang’s portrait. The other voice in her head would tell her that life was a continuous journey of learning. If only, she had paid attention much earlier.

  Stop it, Lin. The past is past. Come back to the present. She is here.

  “Enter,” Lin called out.

  Diane Simmons stepped from the foyer, into the living room. She was much meeker now, almost cowering and Lin tasted the submission in her lead half-dead. It was a stark contrast from the one who had led the man named Anderson into Duke’s clutches. Part of Lin wanted to reward Diane for knowing her boundaries, but another wished the woman would show more independence, much as her predecessor had done. As usual, though, the darker side of Lin Tang won out.

  “Am I late, Mistress Tang?” Diane asked, nervously.

  “No, you are just in time,” Lin Tang replied, sliding up behind the woman. “You will not be punished.”

  Tang gently cocked Diane’s neck to the side and bared her fangs. Gently nipping Diane’s exposed throat, she drank lightly. Diane moaned in ecstasy. Tang let the woman slide slowly to the floor, following her down and covering her body. They lay together for a minute before Tang pulled Diane to her feet.

  “Thank you, Mistress,” Diane gasped.

  “I’ve been extra special to you, Diane, because I have a special assignment for you,” Tang explained.

  “Anything for you, Mistress,” Diane said, obediently.

  “The event will be upon us soon,” Tang said. “And there are still a few who have not let Mr. Riordan know of their intentions. We must know if they will give their loyalty t
o him and not their spineless constituents. I may need you to recruit some more of your former…co-workers to help persuade them. This situation calls for your…special talents.”

  “Is that all, Mistress?” Diane asked, perplexed.

  “That is all you need to know,” Tang said, coldly. “For now. You have been a good leader to my half-deads. When the awakening has finished, I am sure you will find new favor with our master. And, you will get what you have so long desired.”

  “Oh, thank you, Mistress,” Diane replied, giddily.

  “If you succeed, of course,” Lin added.

  “Yes, my Mistress. I am your most obedient servant.”

  After Diane left, Lin contemplated events. She’d had mixed feelings about Diane, but could not find reason to fault her. Diane had kept the half-deads in line and, as of yet, had not been challenged.

  Why would she be challenged? She’s probably slept with every man and woman in the group.

  Lin dismissed the voice. She knew she should be thankful for small favors. She sometimes missed Diane’s predecessor, Kelly White Cloud, but not the drama the agile, young Kiowa had brought with her. Of course, she realized, that might have been due to being forcefully turned into a half-dead. But, Kelly had finally given in, though not without drama – in the form of an “accident” that crippled her boyfriend, who had lured her into Lin’s clutches.

  Alas, Kelly’s tough-mindedness had proved too fractious. She made enemies from within, it had only been a matter of time before someone got to her. In this case, a half-dead named Lincoln who, with two other half-deads, set a trap for Kelly. He admitted as much after Lin tortured him, but had gone to his grave without revealing where he’d left Kelly’s body or why he had seen fit to torture and kill the other two half-deads.

  It took a lot of work for Lin to make a good half-dead. She had to carefully vet the ones she would later bite. She needed to be sure that leaving them lingering, between life and undeath, would not cause them to commit suicide. They had to desire her bite so they would remain loyal and do her bidding.