Noir: A Crimson Shadow Novel

by Nathan Squiers

  The taste of blood was not foreign to him.

  Whether it was an innocent drop on his tongue after prying a loose tooth free or something more violent, he was more than used to the sickening, metallic taste. But this time was different. This time it was more than just the taste. His entire body seized as he emptied the contents of the cylinder into his mouth. Invigorated, he swallowed the small mouthful, the blood traveling down his throat and pushing a groan from his esophagus. As the rich substance sank into him, a jolt of life flooded over him.

  Xander!

  He shook his head as his mind returned to him.

  “Trepis?”

  Freak out much there, spaz?

  He frowned, remembering the past few minutes in horrified detail, “Shut up.”

  The familiar sensation of Trepis’ laughter tingled in his head.

  Finally sated from the intense hunger, Xander was able to put his mind towards more important things, like finding a way out of the darkness. Wherever he was, he realized, he was lying on his back and, for a moment, feared that someone might have buried him while he was undergoing the change. This fear was put to rest, however, as his blurred vision focused enough to allow him to make out an outline of light at his feet. Already growing impatient and more than just a little claustrophobic, he drove his feet against the door again and again until it flew open.

  A bright flood of light overtook him and he was forced to squint his eyes against the blinding glow as his eyes adjusted. As he pulled himself out into the open and stood on his still-shaky legs, he found himself inside a large, circular room with metallic drawers built into the walls and soon realized it was from one of these that he had just excavated himself. He turned back to glance inside the drawer that had served as his tomb and saw the empty blood cylinder that had, moments ago, provided him with his first meal.

  He smirked, “Mother’s milk.”

  For a moment he stared into the depths of the drawer before starting to turn away. As his body shifted, however, some light was allowed through and illuminated something else that rested inside. Looking closer, Xander saw that there were actually two of the small, white somethings and he reached in and retrieved them. He inspected them, rolling the two small objects in his hand, noting one side that was somewhat jagged while the other caved in and was pinkish on the inside. After several moments he sneered, realizing that he was holding his human canines in his palm.

  Remembering what Range had told him, he began to probe his mouth for any gaps but found none. Instead, along each side of his upper jaw, his tongue rolled over a spot on each side where his gums felt thicker; more muscular. After dwelling on this a bit longer, he clenched his palm with the teeth inside.

  He frowned as he looked around the empty room again, “I would have thought there would have been more people down here.”

  You mean others who were changed? Trepis asked.

  He shook his head, “No. I just thought that at least Depok would be down here to…” he looked down.

  Maybe there’s a surprise party waiting for you. Trepis offered.

  Xander frowned, doubtful, “Yea. Maybe.”

  As he made his way towards the only door in the room, he saw that the clothes that he had been stripped from before the ceremony had been washed and folded and were waiting for him. He smiled at the favor and changed—glad to finally be in something other than a ratty, old robe that reeked of dust and death—into the far-more-comfortable black jeans and red tee before opening the heavy door.

  The sweet smell hit him instantly!

  It was faint, but Xander already recognized it.

  “Blood!”

  Told you! They’re waiting for you!

  “I’m not so sure…”

  Stepping out into the hall, he was greeted by only a staircase. As he began his ascent, he became aware of not only the scent of blood, but that of smoke as well!

  Xander!

  “I know!” his slow steps became a full sprint, “Something’s wrong!”

  Taking the steps four at a time, he finally reached a brick wall; a damned dead-end! A moment was spent looking for a latch or a knob that would let him through before he started clawing and pounding at the stone. When this didn’t work, he drove his fist into the center as hard as he could. Something sounded then and the barrier slid open, exposing a familiar winding staircase ahead of him and the entrance to the library to his right.

  Xander’s nostrils burned as he approached; the pungent stink of gasoline and the choking smell of smoke almost too much to bear. With each agonizing step forward, his worst fears were confirmed:

  Depok’s library was on fire…

  The doors, ripped from their hinges, lay in the center of the giant room along with the antique wooden desks and chairs, all of which fueled a massive inferno within the stripped room. Bits of torn paper and ash rocketed upward on billows of thick, black smoke only to come back down again like a twisted snowstorm. The books, all torn and shredded, were left in tatters on the floor and the artwork that had lined the halls lay in broken, twisted heaps amongst the rest of the burning treasures.

  All of this, however—horrible as it was—was forgotten as Xander’s eyes fell upon the centerpiece.

  There, hanging over the hellish bonfire, Depok’s body swung; his limp, dead feet scraping the burning pile with each pass. The flames had caught and begun their climb up his robe. As Xander watched in horror, the rope that suspended the clan’s leader snapped and dropped him onto the inferno; the flaming pyramid toppling under the weight and forcing it to spread across the floor.

  Xander, speechless, couldn’t grasp what he was seeing. He had only just woken up into this new world; his new world! How could he come into being like this?

  A gust of warm air passed, coming down from the upper levels and carrying with it the scent of blood. Lingering on the all-consuming fire a moment longer, Xander shuddered at what could possibly be awaiting him.

  He turned, the floor squeaking under his heels as he rushed for the staircase. As he took to the steps again, Xander was startled by a fleshy mass that lay in the center of the steps. The face that stared up at him was frozen in fury and smashed in, rendering it unrecognizable. Stepping over the body, he paused a moment to look down at what should have been a comrade before beginning to race up the stairs again; tears growing in his eyes.

  “The dream…” Xander panted as he dashed—moving faster than he’d ever thought possible—past several more discarded clan members’ bodies.

  Do you think… Trepis began.

  Xander came around the last bend to the first level and stopped in his tracks, “Oh my…”

  The dark-skinned body of another clan member lay in front of him. Whoever was responsible had stripped the poor vampire naked and carved “Stryker” all over her torso. Looking past this, Xander could see more like her: stripped and tagged with his name. All of them had been strewn about, their bodies littering the ground.

  As he moved forward through the aftermath of the massacre, the fiery rage grew inside him, spreading from his chest to his arms and legs, making his muscles twitch and jolt with a strange new energy and he felt a pain in his gums. He frowned at the new sensation—not unlike a throbbing toothache—and ran his tongue across the long, pointed fangs that protruded from his upper jaw.

  The rage that he had lived with his entire life seemed to fuel his new vampire body and, pushed onward by his rage and a new sense of power, he stepped further into the blood-splattered walls of the destroyed Odin mansion.

  Bodies hung from rafters and lay in decrepit heaps. Forms that had once been natural were contorted into grotesque abstractions. Most of the corpses had been treated the same way: stripped and tagged with Xander’s name, further reminding him of the reason why they had died.

  Walking amongst the gore, an even more horrifying thought came to him, “Trepis!”

  Yea? The voice of his old friend was heavy with sadness.

  “No, I mean… can you still
sense the tiger?”

  There was a long, excruciating silence as Mind-Trepis probed the building for the animal’s unique energy pattern.

  Sensei’s dojo. He finally responded.

  Xander wasted no time in getting there, encountering more and more of the carnage until he finally slid open the tattered bamboo doors. At the other side of the room, he could see the body of the young boy that housed an ancient mind.

  “Oh no…”

  He stumbled across the room, which had been decorated with Sensei’s insides as well as the battered bodies of those who Xander assumed had been the first to try and take him down until he was standing in front of the body. Sensei’s bald head had been cracked open and held in place from the final blow: one of his own short swords that had been driven through his skull and pinning it to the wall. The dead vampire’s neck stretched from the weight pulling downward on it and Xander shuddered as he, after several hard tugs, was able to yank the weapon free. With this done, he lay the body down on the floor.

  “Is he in here or not?” Xander demanded, his breathing coming out in jagged bursts.

  The back of his mind crackled before Trepis finally answered: Behind the wall.

  Xander recalled the secret door and rushed over to it, throwing it open. Though the room on the other side was pitch-black, his new eyes were quick to adjust and he could see inside almost as well as he could see inside the bright dojo. Stepping inside, he began to look around, noticing various stuffed animals that showed evidence of tiger-play. On the far wall was a picture of a man with clean, well combed black hair and piercing hazel-green eyes, and though Xander had never seen the man before, he knew who he was looking at and fought the tears that pushed at the corners of his eyes. He lingered on the photo, feeling his throat tighten as he fought the flood of emotions, and was startled by a soft growl that issued from his left. He turned, grateful for the distraction.

  “Trepis!”

  The tiger stood and hurried to his side, panting nervously. He began rubbing his head against Xander’s hip, happy to have somebody alive and on his side. This time Xander could not hold the tears back and crouched down, dropping the short sword to the floor and beginning to pet the still-terrified animal.

  “It’s alright, buddy,” Xander whispered, “It’s al—”

  The sound of approaching voices echoed down the hall and Xander turned towards the noises, smelling a combination of gunpowder and blood. Sensing the approaching threat, his upper lip peel back, allowing his fangs to show in their entirety, and let out an angry hiss as he scooped up the short sword.

  “Stay,” he whispered to Tiger-Trepis, hoping the animal would understand.

  Peeking through the open doorway, he saw that the speakers had not yet reached the dojo’s door. The rage within him flared and he tightened his grip on the sword’s handle. Despite their distance, his sensitive ears could make out their words as they approached.

  “It came this way!”

  “What? Another fuckin’ vampire? I thought they were all dead! God dammit, he said they were all dead!”

  “I don’t know what it was! It looked like a shadow or something… only it was red.”

  “Well why the fuck didn’t you shoot it? What do you think this guy is paying us for?”

  “Are you fucking kidding me, man? I’m scared shitless enough just walking around all these dead blood-suckers. Last thing I want to do is go poking my neck around a live one!”

  The shadowed outlines of the speakers came into view on the other side of the dojo’s paper walls and Xander felt another surge of rage.

  It was silent as the two humans approached the entrance, each one shivering as they pointed their guns back-and-forth. Tiger-Trepis snorted nervously at the sound of their approach and moved back to his hiding place, stepping on a loose piece of bamboo in the process.

  The two men stiffened at the sound, pointing their guns in unison towards the dojo.

  “You know, I think this area’s clear, actually,” the first said, his head darting from one direction to the next as he backed away. He laughed—a nervous, forced sound, “Your ‘red shadow’ was probably just a fox that came in to scavenge on these dead fuckers.”

  His partner followed suit, backing away, “Yea, you’re probably ri—”

  Xander startled even himself at how fast he struck. One moment he’d been crouching and the next he was a blur. He smirked. He was a shadow.

  A crimson shadow!

  His hands clamped on the shoulders of the first, a fat man with a receding hairline. Yelping in surprise, he stumbled back into Xander, who swung the short sword in an arc, imbedding it in his shoulder and groaning at the smell as fresh blood was spilled. Ignoring his urge to feed, he roared out, hurling the screaming man down the hall and leaping onto the other. His new victim, far younger and thinner than the first, was too light and was thrown off his feet from the blow and hit on the ground hard, shattering his nose upon impact and sending a river of blood into the floorboards.

  More sweetness filled the air!

  Xander grabbed the back of the thin man’s blonde hair and smashed his already battered face into the stained floor again and again. Blood splattered against the walls and speckled his face as he continued until the man’s features had become a broken, flattened mess. The two’s combined guttural screams of pain echoed through the hall and Xander snarled.

  The smell!

  It was everywhere!

  That vial had carried him only so far and already he felt like he needed more. Losing himself to his new instincts, he twisted the mutilated man’s head to the side and lowered himself to his neck, piercing through the flesh and letting the blood fill his mouth. His victim cried out and began flailing; bucking and writhing and trying to free himself from Xander’s hold.

  Getting his fill, Xander rose and wiped the blood from his chin and licked his hand clean as the human gurgled and thrashed about in his dying moments. Filled with rage and disgust, Xander balled his fist and drove it through the back of the man’s head, decorating his hand with bits of skull and brain. The fat man at the end of the hall, still trying to pull the sword from his shoulder, whimpered and worked his good arm to drag himself away from the horror in front of him. Xander smirked, lost in the lust of his first feed, and shook the gore from his hand as he rose to his feet.

  As he fed on the second man, a rhythmic pounding grew louder and louder until he could no longer ignore it and finally looked up. Glaring at the newcomer, Xander showed his fangs and hissed. The figure, concealed by a shimmering wall, stood a short distance away as the sound of static grew louder and louder until it filled the hall. Squinting against the barrier, Xander barely had time to register the rippling wave of energy as it shot at him and hit him like a runaway train.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Toying with Magic

  Estella sighed in unison with the jingling brass bells as she pulled the library doors closed behind her. A large, pale moon hung behind several bare trees, providing just enough light for her to find the keyhole so she could lock up.

  Miss Leon, the head librarian, had offered to put the last of the returns away so that she could go home early; the middle-aged woman’s concern for her wellbeing proving to Estella that her attempts at hiding the stress that had been plaguing her had not been successful. Refusing her boss’ offer, she’d lied and told her that the family dog had not been feeling well and, at the same time, sent out a wave of positive energy as well as forcing a smile to her face. Estella found it funny that casting the spell was easier than making the phony gesture, but that was just the story of her life. Though she had been positive that it would fool no one, the magic seemed to secure any lingering doubts that Miss Leon might have had and she smiled in return and wished the family pet a speedy recovery.

  The reality was that Zip, the Manning family’s black lab, had passed that previous year and they had yet to find a new pet. She had felt guilty for lying and it still lingered as she headed towards the w
oods at the other side of the parking lot. Though it was a shorter walk to just keep to the road until her street came up, she often preferred the quarter-of-a-mile horseshoe path through the woods—especially when she wanted time alone to think.

  And she had a lot of thinking to do.

  She didn’t allow Xander’s name to surface in her mind until she was deep within the depths of the forest; surrounded on all sides by the fall-stricken trees with their discarded leaves crunching under each step. Off in the distance, a string of orange and black lights were visible from a nearby home that had yet to take down their Halloween decorations. She frowned at the sight and allowed her tiny body to fall against the trunk of a nearby oak. Thinking of Halloween only served as another reminder of Xander. He was another year older…

  Or so she hoped.

  News of Xander’s house burning down had spread through the school like the fire itself, and though Estella had been saddened by the news it still came as a relief that he had not been found amongst the remains. Others at school had joked about what a shame it was that the fire hadn’t taken him, and though Estella had never before felt more compelled to cast a curse on her peers, she could not muster the will to bring harm to another living being.

  An even more unnerving thought was that Xander had finally succeeded in killing himself and she shivered at the thought as she pulled herself away from the tree. As another shiver wracked her body she recalled the sensation of the gun pressed against his temple the last time she had cast Other’s Sight. She’d sworn at herself for ever having been curious enough to use such a powerful and invasive spell on her old friend during what she had discovered was his nightly ritual.

  Was she really ready to attempt that spell on him again?