A Vampyre's Daughter

by Jeff Schanz

  “It is too late,” said Viktor. “I am already dead, and my essence fades. My beautiful Natalia. You look so much like your mother. I miss her. I loved you both so much.”

  Lia sobbed, unable to catch her breath. “No!” She reached forward but didn't stand up. Brandt kept blocking the sun's rays.

  Viktor took a moment to face the sun directly, despite its assault on his body. He said in a quiet tone, “I have not seen the sun in so long.” His body was no longer opaque, a combination of gaps in his projection material and growing translucency. “I would have liked to have seen a sunset.”

  Viktor suddenly turned to Brandt. His skin was charcoal in color, nearly transparent now, a spectral figure inside a swirling ball of smoke. He was going to disappear even before he burned up. This really was his last symbolic breath. “You will take care of her,” he said to Brandt. It wasn’t a request. There was a momentary flicker of the old menacing yellow in Viktor’s eyes.

  Brandt nodded. “I will.”

  Viktor was able to manage one more smile at Lia before he disappeared. And then Viktor was gone. Wisps of smoke were all that remained to even suggest that he had been there.

  “Papa!” wailed Lia. She broke down and fell flat on the ground. Brandt hovered over her as she cried.

  Off in the distance, Brandt could see the grey contrails of Mikhail’s burning flight back to his yacht.

  Viktor’s coffin was brought up and placed on the antique rug in front of the fireplace. Both Lia and Brandt agreed that Viktor deserved to be somewhere other than the dank basement since there was no reason to hide from the light anymore. She picked some flowers and arranged them on top of the coffin lid. Viktor’s real body was cleaned and redressed in the only suit he had kept. When their ordeal with Mikhail was all over, if they survived, Viktor would get the proper burial he deserved with a gravestone placed at an angle that could catch both the morning and afternoon sun. At least his gravestone would be able to witness a sunset.

  Brandt sat in the same dining room chair he had sat in when Viktor had asked Brandt to stay with Lia. The real Lia sat in Brandt’s lap, curled up against his chest. She had sobbed for a half hour. Brandt rocked her, made soothing sounds, and brushed her tangled hair with his fingers. He knew she would compose herself eventually. She knew the danger had not gone away for long, but right then she deserved a pass. The only person she had known and loved for nearly a century had just departed the earth and left her alone. All she had left was her desolate island and a man who had only professed his devotion to her a day ago.

  Brandt suspected they had a few hours to prepare for Phase 2. Mikhail would need to heal his wounds and regain his strength. Neither he nor his men would return until dark. He might even need to find new men and ship them in. Brandt was willing to risk the wager that they would not come back until early morning. The U.S. military liked to use the witching hours of 3 or 4 am to begin their stealthy assaults. It was the magic time when people are at their most tired, and possibly fading from the all-night hyper-awareness of waiting for the impending assault. Mikhail would use that same advantage as well, Brandt was sure. Let us be scared for an interminable amount of hours, then strike. It was only an advantage if your victims weren’t expecting the tactic. This wasn’t Brandt’s first rodeo.

  He held Lia for a little while longer, knowing he'd have to get them both moving soon. She eventually stood up on her own. As she had done before, she drew herself into a stoic posture and seemed to have convinced herself that she was now strong enough to take the next new step.

  “Mikhail will return tonight,” she said, fighting her quivering voice. It was a question formed as a statement.

  Brandt answered it. “I’ll bet my life that he comes in the early morning. That’s when I would do it. It’s sound strategy.”

  She thought for a moment and seemed to agree.

  “We have some time, but not much,” said Brandt. “Are you ok to do this?”

  She shook her head slightly. “We are not given a choice sometimes. I was caged here, in part because of Mikhail, and I have lost or risked everything I hold dear because of Mikhail. I have lost my mother, now my father, and I may lose you next. And I have lost myself and become the monster I have always feared I could be.”

  Brandt stood up and grasped her shoulders. “The only monsters that ever came to this island were Mikhail and his men. And even though we did monstrous things to stop them, we are not monsters, ourselves.” He had actually seen himself as a monster for his bloodlust to destroy the men who had tortured Bony. It is difficult to welcome the rage it takes to destroy a monster without destroying one's own humanity. Unless you keep the things that make you human, tucked away, safe deep inside – like a mental strongbox…

  “Look at me,” said Brandt. She did. The tears were finished but still wet on her cheeks. “Monsters don't love, or forgive, or feel remorse like we do,” he said. “It doesn't matter what form you take, or what we do to destroy that demon, I will love you.”

  She tried to smile, but she still wasn’t ready for that yet. “I believe you,” she said. “And whatever happens to me, I will love you.” She dropped her head and shook it. “But I will not become undead. I had to work so hard to keep my father cognizant of his identity. I mixed my own blood into his transfusions so he could retain the essence of me inside him, and never forget who I was. For years, I told and retold him stories of our family. We had a pact that if he ever lost his memory of me that I would not tell him, but just go into the basement one day and destroy him. He couldn't bear the possibility of it any more than I can. I refuse to live like that and subject you to being my keeper because I can no longer control myself, or remember who and what I love. I will not do it. It is better to be destroyed than exist that way.”

  “I know.”

  “And I cannot bear to lose you and remain alive and alone, either.”

  Brandt nodded. He had lived the nightmare of survivor’s guilt all too recently.

  “I understand,” he said. “As I said to you before, I’m not coming off that mountain without you alive. We will survive together, or die together.”

  She pushed herself into Brandt’s chest and he held her for another few minutes.

  “One way or another I plan to end this tonight,” she said with finality.

  “My plan is to rip Mikhail’s goddamned head off and burn his rotted carcass.”

  “Mine, too.”

  “That’s my girl,” said Brandt.

  CHAPTER 31

  The dead henchmen were piled up outside with a bonfire set to them. The bad guys offshore knew Brandt and Lia were there, so a fire wasn’t going to give anything away, and maybe it would give the next team of assassins a little trepidation. This is what happened to the other team. It might happen to you, too.

  The night had descended quicker than usual, since the sky had been overcast that afternoon, becoming dusky even before the sun fell below the horizon. It made it easier for Lia to help Brandt get the bodies piled up, then get the next phases of his grand plan together.

  The grand plan, as it stood, wasn’t original or unique. It was basically borrowed from the Vietcong or Rambo, whoever you'd rather attribute it to. The idea was to set a bunch of traps utilizing whatever Brandt could find in both the surrounding environment and the bags of weapons and gear that the first bunch of assassins left. The latest group had only left their bodies and guns, but Brandt still had the C4, ammo, and shotguns from the first ill-fated group that snuck up in the sloop. And with some carefully placed tripwires, invaders would be treated to C4 “welcome” mines in key areas of the island. Lure them in and kill them all. Brandt's penchant for mercy had expired at this point.

  Lia was going to find some locations high in the mountains to snipe from. It seemed the safest bet since she had weakened her energy creating a consistent projection earlier that day. Brandt asked her if she could fire a rifle, and she said that she could, but wasn’t likely t
o be accurate. That would work fine since all she really needed to do was keep the bad guys on their toes, occasionally ducking. With their focus divided, Brandt could sneak around and ambush them, or lead them into his traps. He told Lia to not stay in one place too long, to fire single shots intermittently for a few minutes, then find a new spot and repeat the process, so the troops wouldn’t get a bead on her location and launch some RPG or something in her direction. Hopefully, they would be too distracted to really see where she was firing from.

  Brandt planned to lead them into a difficult chase through the mountainside. He had a hard time traversing anywhere besides Lia’s special path, and he was counting on the same being true for Mikhail’s goons. A trek through the mountainside was slow and awkward, and wouldn’t allow for a large group to stay together. In other words, Brandt was going to create a way to turn an army into solitary targets and lead them into a kind of kill box. He knew his plan was far from foolproof, but he was proud of himself to get that much out of virtually nothing.

  Lia was one of the wildcards. As long as she stayed hidden and kept her head down, he thought she might be safe, assuming he stayed alive below to pick off the pursuers. Should Brandt get killed, then bets were off on how long it would take to get to her. But he trusted her to do her job if he did his.

  The other wildcard was Mikhail. Brandt was betting Mikhail wouldn't be there to personally oversee things this time. His essence had been burned and that would've drained him. Despite the fact that he would need to recover, the new goal was straightforward now. Mikhail no longer had to negotiate or confirm anything firsthand, and Viktor was no longer a factor. This time was a simple snatch and grab of Lia, and murder of Brandt. Mikhail could stay safe and sound on his yacht and let armed men do his dirty work for him.

  Brandt was counting on that for the final part of his plan. If the bad guys came by boat, as he expected, Brandt would use one of the boats to get to the yacht. The folks on the yacht may not know how the attack was going, and assuming Brandt could kill all the attackers, he could then disguise himself like a black-scarved lackey and drive a boat right up to the yacht. Once on the yacht, he would reprise his role as soulless killer, eliminate the guards, find Mikhail’s coffin, or whatever Mikhail slept in, kill the asshole, set him on fire, and call the war over. Easy peasy.

  It was about the craziest, most unlikely-to-work plan he had ever conceived, and yet there was no other option. It simply had to work. Or they were both dead.

  Brandt had been watching through his binoculars for a while, sitting on the southernmost side of the island, as close as possible to the edge of the cliff. It was the best spot to see the men that would come around that side of the island. He knew exactly where they would be coming from. The yacht wasn’t a stealthy boat. Once Mikhail had arrived back on board, it had motored east in an effort to go to the blind side of the island. That side wasn’t traversable directly, so the boats would have to go around, which meant there were two directions the assault would come from: North and South. North was the area of the beach and cave, and those entrances were set to blow with C4 tripwires that were well hidden. Maybe the explosions wouldn't get everyone, but they would take out several of them, and act as an alarm as well. The South Side had no obvious entry spot, so Brandt chose to watch there. He figured he would see them a half-mile out and have time to get into place. The funny thing was that he actually heard them first. His hearing had been average all his life, but his senses seemed more sensitive lately. He could smell things and hear things he didn't think were possible. Maybe the anxiety of losing Lia had turned his heightened awareness into superior sensory ability. Whatever the case, he heard the faint hum of boat engines before he ever saw them. His ears told him there were two zodiacs traveling slowly, which meant they were loaded with men. On ocean-sized waves, six men with full gear would likely be max on each. There were nothing but cliffs on the South Side, so the men in the boats would need to throw up grappling hooks, or something similar. They would have binoculars, as well, so Brandt didn’t want to be seen sitting atop the cliff. It was time to move.

  He found Lia behind the barn where he had left her. Rifle in hand, she was nervous but ready. She hugged him and Brandt held her close at first, then at arm’s length so he could stare into her eyes.

  “Lia, I want you to understand this: I truly love you. And once this is over and Mikhail is dead, there will be no more excuses. However it can be done, we will make this work. When I came here, my life was worth nothing. Now, a life with you is worth everything. But we will never be safe if Mikhail remains alive. So, no matter what we may have to do, he dies tonight.”

  Lia smiled and stroked a lock of short hair away from his forehead.

  “I love you, too,” she said. “I didn’t think I would ever be able to love someone. For so long I’ve been without the possibility – one hundred years that feel wasted without you. I have never felt so alive as I do now. And I am never letting you go. When this is over, I shall go wherever you want me to go, and do whatever you want me to do. But as you said to me once, I am not coming back off that mountain without you alive. So stay alive. I cannot be Mrs. Dekker if there is no Mr. Dekker.”

  Brandt wanted to take her in his arms and make love to her right there, but they had no time for anything other than survival from this point on until Mikhail was dead. She gave him a gentle kiss and they went their separate directions.

  That may be the last kiss I ever get. The last time I ever see her.

  Whatever his life was worth, he had given it to Lia, and it was worth nothing if Mikhail lived through this. Or Lia didn’t. He would rather sacrifice his life than live it without Lia and have yet another someone-he-cared-about dead, with Brandt again the lone survivor. Not this time. No matter what, Mikhail was going to die.

  When Brandt went into the barn, he smeared some mud on his face, both for camouflage and to appear less human. He felt like his transformation into merciless killer needed some physical gesture to represent the manifestation. He sucked in a huge lungful of air and closed his eyes, relaxed his body and dropped his head, breathing out. The mental strongbox opened, and Brandt Dekker was placed inside. When he breathed back in, he lifted his head. The strongbox was locked.

  Dr. Jekyll isn’t here anymore. Call me Mr. Hyde.

  * * * *

  The man who called himself the captain, even though his mercenary squad had no official ranks, lifted his hand to his ear where a small communication device rested. He touched it.

  “Beta team, this is Alpha,” he said in a tone just above a whisper. “We are at the base of the southern cliffs. What is your status?”

  The answer took a moment, then a tinny voice came back into his earpiece, “This is Beta team, Alpha. Had to navigate the rocks to get to the beach.” The answering voice was also at a volume just above a whisper. “We’re landing now.”

  “Copy.”

  The captain nodded to his men and waved to them as the signal to ready their grappling hooks. Beta team was supposed to land on the northern side of the island to start the assault. Once the enemy was occupied with Beta’s beach-landing team, the captain and his Alpha team would climb the cliff and flank them. The operation should’ve had an additional drop team from a helicopter, but the helicopter was destroyed on the previous mission, so now they were stuck with only two entry areas. As soon as he heard the first shot ring out, the captain would get his men up the cliff. And should either of the targets peek their head over the cliff edge, the captain had six men already training their guns on that spot. Nobody was going to surprise him.

  The captain waited five minutes but heard no shots. Beta team should've been topside by now, and he expected Brandt or the girl would start firing at Beta team once they were visible. He was about to risk it and tell his men to start anyway when he heard something.

  If it was a gunshot, it was a damned big one. It simply couldn’t be a shot. The concussive sound was followed immediately by
three thumps and rumbles. Three bombs had just gone off somewhere.

  Can’t be. His men knew not to detonate ordinance until they had their target cornered. They were supposed to stay quiet until it was too late for their targets to react. One way or another, somebody couldn’t hold their wad. Or maybe Dekker had rigged something. God damn it.

  “Throw ‘em,” he snapped at his grappling-hook men.

  They did. The men had devices that gave them a climbing boost and they ascended quickly, with riflemen below to pick off anyone attempting to repel the ascent. As the last man crested the edge, and the covering team readied themselves to be next, something came over the captain’s earpiece.

  “Captain!” said the breathless voice, no longer whispering.

  “Go ahead, Freddy,” said the captain.

  “Tripwire bombs. Couldn’t see ‘em. Three men dead. Two more critically injured. Leaving them on the beach. Don’t think they’ll make it.”

  Damn it. Damn it. “Stick to plan. First destination is the large wooden building.”

  “Copy.”

  Son of a bitch, Dekker. The captain hadn’t been sure if Dekker had explosives. That asshole Tobias was supposed to have sunk all his shit with his damned sloop, but had been sloppy, apparently. Amateur.

  The captain knew about Tobias: A pure killer who thought he was smarter than he was. The captain, on the other hand, was a professional. He didn’t get off on killing, but he wasn’t squeamish about it either. It was a living and he treated it as such. Assassinations for a price, with solid plans, exit strategies, and no questions asked. He didn’t want to know if his targets were bad or good, innocent or assholes. No emotions, it was a job. No politics, just a paycheck. Yet despite his thoroughness and efficiency, the captain’s men had come in second for the bid to find Dekker the first time around, when Tobias was awarded the contract. Now, the captain had to clean up the mess. It wasn’t the first time he had to take over a job that someone else botched.