by Jamie Ott
Black Crowe (Robert Crowe) Industries.
Publication Date: 8/29/2012
For all inquiries, please contact [email protected].
So Far Gone
Chapter 1
Over the past few weeks, many voices whispered in her mind. They were the cries of scared and dying vampires. "Beware" was often the message they'd send. Starr, as terrible at mind control as she was, couldn't block out the messages. Like Shane and Mica, the voices nearly drove her to the brink of crazy sometimes. Only when she was training for battle was her mind focused so that she couldn't hear them.
Even worse than the psychic cries were the vamps who showed up on a daily basis. She would've rather been on her own. Repeatedly, she tried to chase them away. When she found them spying on her from another empty condo on the other side of the building, she even tried to kill one of them. Just as she closed her fingers on his back upper nape and made to squeeze him like a bottle neck, her hand froze.
The ghost lady appeared and insisted she let them alone. That was the first night she showed her power, and there was no fighting her.
Even more annoying than all the demons hanging about was how much they knew about her. She knew that she'd sent shock waves through communities across the globe, what with her defeating Levi, working with the Council, and killing an infamous Primordial, but these vamps knew everything: from the names of her best friends to her usual coffee drink. A few had even confessed to spying on her long before the attempted apocalypse. They were curious to know if all the things they'd heard about her were true.
All she ever said to anyone, over and over, was that she wanted to be left alone; to have a normal life. What a shock to know that she was never really alone; she only thought she was.
Word of her Primordial initiation and the whispers of the ghost lady falsely convinced them that Starr was some kind of hero. Vampires got some crazy idea that she was the one who was strong enough to help them defeat Credenza. And, frequently, her name was mentioned in the psychic cry outs.
Now, she was sharing a vacant condo with a dozen other vampires, while dozens more were in an empty house several blocks over, not to mention the empty condo on the other side of the property. They'd spend their days fighting and plotting, gathering weapons and ammo.
Several of them tailed the family at all times, whose names were Barb and Mike Mitchell. The baby's name was Meghan, just like her dead sister. Such a coincidence was eerie for her to think about.
Starr didn't know who the ghostly woman was, though she'd asked many times. But it was obvious that she was an ancient one gone into unconsciousness; a Primordial, she surmised, though she could've been a witch, too.
Perhaps it was foolish to trust the woman, but so far, she'd been good help. It was she who led her to the baby that, now, had her soul. And it was because of her that all these vampires were there to help her win the fight. Plus, she would've never stayed in Boston if not for the woman showing her that Shane and the others were in fact alright. They were worried and scared, but were living well and without much supervision at the Council's castle.
The castle was the size of New York City, and it was nestled in a bowl shaped valley of the Carpathian Mountains in Romania. Having spent time there, herself, she knew they'd be fine. Not only was the castle built to house an entire city, but it had all the modern amenities of one, too.
More importantly, Credenza would never hurt them as long as Starr had what she wanted: the baby and, both theirs, soul.
As she walked the rainy streets of Boston, the essence of the ghost woman blanketed her again.
"Who are you?" she asked aloud. "Are you ever going to tell me?"
A strong wind blew around her; the trees wavered violently. The street light's cemented pole groaned under the strength of the wind.
"Is that a sign?" she asked.
But instead of the usual whispers that followed this benevolent behavior, the sky simply darkened several shades, and then a bolt of lightning shot down into someone's back yard, several hundred feet away.
She walked to the corner and pressed the little button on the crossing light. Cars sped past as she waited.
Across the street was the caf? she frequented, lately. At one point, she was visiting the shop three and four times a day, simply needing to get some quiet time. Just like at the clinic, she had a hard time being around so many people, and it was worse when they were clamoring adults. All day there was shouting, arguing, the chinking of swords and the shocking of arms.
"Oh hell!" she said under her breath.
A dark haired man in a black trench coat dropped down, in front of the caf?, from the gray cloud above the street. He looked right into her eyes as he waited for her to cross.
This was the fashion in which people, to her grief, came. It was partly her fault because she was terrible at cloaking her thoughts. Mental discipline was always her one weakness. Like a lighthouse, her essence shined out through the fog of all the people, making her easily locatable.
The light changed.
Extremely annoyed by the man's presence, she walked fast and hard, giving him a death stare.
"Go away," she said as she stepped up onto the sidewalk.
"Are you Starr?"
"No," she said louder than she meant. "Now beat it, or I'll kill you."
"You must be her," he said unfazed. "Your ferocity is legendary."
She rolled her eyes as she pulled back the glass door, and walked into the coffee shop.
"But I need to talk to you," she heard as she let the door swing closed.
She walked up to the counter and ordered her usual latte with cinnamon. Turning back, she saw the man watched her through the glass door.
Spotting the Daily Times in a basket next to the counter, she picked it up and made her way to a table at the back.
Lately, the news was abounding in stories of murders and missing persons. If he or she didn't have his or her guts removed and half eaten, he or she seemed to disappear without a trace. There were even a few stories of men and women whom the police, upon investigation of their vacant homes, were found to be as much as 500 years old, yet appeared not to have aged a single day past approximately thirty years.
No one believed these stories. She knew this because she'd heard plenty of talk in the cities and in the psychic cries, but the upswing in violence was a concern to many. She didn't need to be a good telepath to see these worries, either. The fright was painted on their faces and infused with the scents that humans put off: scents of fear.
As she sipped her coffee, she shifted her eyes to the windows. Outside, the man still stood on the sidewalk, staring unblinkingly at her through the glass.
She sighed long and loud. Then she stood and threw the newspaper down onto the table. On her way out, she said to the barrister, "I'll bring back the cup."
Outside, she said, "Follow me."
They walked several blocks over to the condo she and the others had been squatting in. Before opening the door, she turned and said, "Know that if you're working for Credenza, I'll kill you."
Once again, the man hardly flinched. "She's already tried to kill me, so you need not worry, dear lady."
"My name's Starr. Try to be contemporary. I can't stand all your old world customs."
"Miss, there's no need to be bitter."
Ignoring him, she turned and unlocked the door.
Inside, half a dozen men and women were going over plans to rob an army base, the next state over, of rocket launchers; something they were sure would kill vampires the likes of Credenza. They, mostly being less than a few centuries old, would need a "leg up" because the older they got, the more difficult they were to eradicate.
Over the last few weeks, her life had become just like a military camp, too. With vamps actually training, learning how to fight, and even with swords. This is where Starr was actually grateful for the older vamps because she knew that Credenza would fight like a warrior, and the younger o
nes needed to be prepared for it.
Most of the younger vampires thought Starr was being silly, but she insisted they learn old world styles of combat. Silly as it seemed, barbarianism had a history of taking out armies, in the past. Just because it was old, didn't mean it was ineffective, she told them one night. Firing guns was useless; they needed to learn to carry real weapons.
"Younger ones?" a man named Aster asked sarcastically, on the night she was asked to discuss Romanian tactics. "You're only just turned 18 years total. I like how you talk about us like we're children to you."
It was funny, yes, but they didn't understand that Credenza and Starr were one person divided by a degree.
She walked into the living room where a man was sharpening old swords.
"Where's Aine?" she asked.
Sometimes it was hard to remember all their names.
"They're out practicing. Got a new one, there?" he asked.
"Yeah, can you take care of him?"
"Sure," he said.
Leaving the newcomer, she went to her room and shut the door.
Aine was an old Irish vampire she'd met some time ago. At first, she and her companion, Ciaran, were the only ones Starr trusted in their "army," and they were purportedly strong allies to have, with reputations from centuries ago of being vicious, tenacious, restless warriors.
Rumor had it that they already went up against the Council during the Celtic Revival of the early twentieth century. The Council lost that battle, and a number of men. But they failed to takeout Credenza, so when they heard whisper of Starr's so called "army," Aine, Ciaran, and a couple dozen of her clansmen were more than eager to help.
However, Starr could tell by the glisten in their eyes and the vibrato in their voices that it was more than Credenza that drove them, but it was a thirst for a fight. They were true warriors in the sense that it was a matter of pride. Credenza explained this ideology to her once; it was something that she thought Starr would aspire to, but she was wrong. Nostalgia drove these vampires to battle, but Starr was a modern woman with modern desires.
Aine's people were strong. Starr had already engaged them, and learned a lot about sword fighting; things she couldn't pull from Credenza's memory. For the first time in years, they likened her to pain. Something she hadn't felt since the night she'd been shot. At that moment when she'd taken a platinum bat to her kidney, she understood why the old vampires were excited to be there. The pain from the fight made them feel alive, like they were doing what their demons were meant to do. She, too, loved it; loved that feeling.
Even better than the pain was their technique that was different from the Romanians who had a more conservative form of battling. With Aine and her men, Starr really felt the passion in the fight, and her inner demon relished that, too. They weren't afraid to get in close or to use their hands and legs as well as their weapons, unlike the Romanians or the Romans. Since she was a martial artist, the Celtic style fell more in line with what she already knew about fighting. And she was able to teach them a modern thing or two, too, which they loved.
Starr loved having the respect of the old warriors. It was when she was with them that she realized that, despite her modern desires, she really was a warrior at heart. She felt at home, and she loved dining side by side with them.
So not all of the vampires who showed were terribly annoying to her, it was just the younger ones. Many of them couldn't fight to save their lives, and had not a clue about warring, then, got pissy with her. Credenza was ruthless, and so were her men. Since bullets only slowed them down, they needed to be prepared to go mono a mono, she told them.
The young ones didn't like this, and some even had the nerve to be resentful of Starr's authority. When the same man, Aster, challenged her one evening, and even drew his sword, she almost retreated. Not out of fear, but out of shear frustration that the men wouldn't listen to her. To them, she was just some silly girl.
That was when Ikael, Aine's longtime friend from a neighboring tribe back in the "old country," taught her what it meant to be a chieftain warrior. He was a member of the Scamall family, and thanks to him and his friend, Druce, Starr was thriving as a militia.
"What are you doing, lass?" he asked that evening, sounding sincerely disgusted. "Are you a warrior or not? You're stronger than they. Show them you're the authority," he said, and pushed her back toward Aster. She looked at Aine and Ciaran, both who nodded, agreeing that the young fledgling needed to be taught a lesson.
Aster was a dirty demon. He didn't give her a chance for a fair fight, but he charged her while she still faced Ikael. She whirled around and, with just her bare hands, severed his arms from his back, and threw them through the glass window. It was actually an accident, as she meant to throw him out of the window. Just as before, there were still times when her new strength eluded her knowledge.
Ikael and his buddies didn't seem to mind the sight of liters of blood issuing from Aster's sockets. They shouted their approval and laughed hysterically. Given their reputation, she shouldn't have been surprised by their delight.
"Make no mistake, young fledglings," Ikael said with a wide faced smile. "Starr is in charge, and we're here to support her. You got a problem with that, than get out."
"Before she dismembers you," said someone, and the Scamalls laughed once more.
"It's not funny," said one of the young ones.
They looked extremely upset.
"Actually, Ikael," said a man named Druce. "They should fight until death, don't you think? Attacking while another's back is turned? We would have never allowed such a thing in our day; either that or we should just kill him."
"No, please!" begged Aster. "I'm sorry!"
"No," said Ikael. "Things don't work like that anymore. Besides, that's Starr's decision. Talk to her."
"Starr, allow me to advise you. I've had great battle experience, and I know how to handle a dirty rat," he said passionately. "Why don't you get your arms before someone calls the police, you dirty rat."
Druce pushed him to the floor.
"Death by beheading," said someone from the back.
"No," said Starr. "Just get your things and leave, Aster."
From that day on, no one questioned her. Aster, who begged her to let him stay, had become especially subservient.
Although things were better after her showdown, she still felt ashamed for a while after. That's when Ikael came to her once more, and said, "It's better that you don't have to worry about what these men will do when you're back is turned. It's better that you assert your authority now, rather than on the battle field or on a mission. Don't be ashamed, this is a natural part of leadership. Someone will always challenge you, and you must prove your worthiness. Tonight you did what was expected of you; though the younger ones don't understand this, but we, the Scamall Clan, respect you. If you ever need anything, just ask. Okay?"
After that night, Starr found she liked Ikael and Druce even more. Without any real confirmation they, alongside Aine and Ciaran, had become her lieutenants.
The only thing that worried her was Shane had promised to contact her, telepathically, but there was still no word. The ghost lady assured her they were okay, and even sent her images of them in the Council's castle, playing games and being well taken care of. They simply weren't allowed to leave. Not that it was possible, as the castle was nestled in a bowl shaped valley in the Carpathian Mountains, which bordered Romania and the Ukraine. There was no place for them to go.
The main thing, the ghost lady told her, was not to rush into fighting because a lot was riding on her, including her destiny. Whatever that meant, Starr didn't care about destiny, she just wanted to save her friends and go home.
Starr tried to get more information, but the ghost lady wouldn't answer. This angered her, and if it weren't for the fact that the lady led her to the baby - to her soul, she wouldn't have listened.
Plus, there was something familiar about the lady; almost like she'd met her befo
re. Naturally, Starr realized she could've been tapping into a memory from Credenza's life. She should've written her off, immediately. But something, somewhere inside her, told her to stay put. Both, she and Credenza trusted the ghost lady, though she just couldn't remember why.
Taking down the last of her latte, she sat back on her inflatable bed and turned on her netbook. She should have been training with the men. Most of which took place in the house a few yards over, but she just needed to get away. Ikael and his men understood this about her and respected her needs. For that, she was also grateful to them.
Arms Ready
Chapter 2
The next morning, she took a shower, grabbed a coffee and walked to the house a few blocks over.
She opened the door without knocking. Several of the men nodded to her.
The whole house had been turned into a barracks. In the back, a large tent covered the entire yard. The men used the area to practice fighting, but also to store ammo they could no longer fit in the cluttered house.
Tacked to the living room wall was a schedule. The guys slept in various places throughout the city, but took turns sleeping in the house and standing guard. This was important because Boston, unlike other cities, was already a fully restored place after the near vampire apocalypse. Anyone could try to break in or call the cops on them.
"Starr," called Ciaran.
He stood in the corner, red eyes ablaze, looking down at a partial mapping. Like Starr, he'd taken Primordial blood, and the eyes were the consequence. Credenza's eyes didn't turn so red, however, because she was already half Primordial by birth.
Druce was there, too.
"Where's Ikael?"she asked.
"Hunting,"Ciaran said.
Hunting was their code word for getting blood. Most vamps needed to feed their monster regularly, lest they should vamp out.
"You look like you're about ready for a hunt, too."
He was right; it had been at least week since she'd drank. But ever since the Primordial blood, human and animal blood just wasn't the same. It was like drinking Justin Isosceles, and then being forced to take a Turning Leaf.
"I need you to help us map out the Council's castle," he said, handing her a pen. "Rumor has it, it's somewhere over here," he motioned on the map. "Keagan told me you'd been there before."
