Noir: A Crimson Shadow Novel

by Nathan Squiers

  But he always woke up before it finished.

  It was close to midnight, and all of the families and romantic nighttime couples had long-since left the sight of the moon and its reflection off of the waters of the lake. Unpopulated, the area seemed much larger than Xander had ever thought. The only occupants that remained being several late-season squirrels, some lazy birds…

  And a twig of a man who sat by himself on one of the benches.

  He had a bowl-cut that left only the very top portion of his head covered in muddy-looking hair, and his dark, sunken eyes moved too fast and too often, never focusing long enough on anything before darting to a new target. He wore a windbreaker that flapped over a button-up shirt that was missing half its buttons and his pants were torn and stained, held up by a section of rope that had been cut to fit the purpose. What Xander thought were brown leather boots he soon realized were actually the man’s bare, dirty feet after he began to wiggle his toes against the frosted grass. Appropriately enough, the entire package was surrounded by a puke-green aura that lurched and spiked at random moments.

  Xander and Marcus stood in the shadow of a large oak; invisible to the man as they watched him.

  “I’ve seen him before,” Marcus whispered, his words coming out in pale plumes that hovered in the November chill, “Hangs out around the Elementary school a lot.”

  Xander looked at his mentor and then back at the man, wondering what sort of diseases and infections he might be carrying, “Does feeding from something like that have any effects?”

  Marcus kept his eyes on their prey and shook his head, “Only the ones you want. Your system will take only what it needs from the blood; diseases, impurities, anything at all that won’t help strengthen you and keep your cells from breaking down will be sent off as waste.”

  Xander nodded, keeping his eyes locked on his prey.

  “I know that you’ve fed before,” Marcus smirked. “Stan said you were quite a sight, too. But to act like that out of rage is something that even a human is capable of.”

  Xander frowned and looked up at his mentor, “You think I won’t be able to do it again?”

  “I think,” Marcus sighed, “that you’re going to have to show me what you can do.”

  “Now?” Xander whispered.

  Marcus nodded once.

  Xander wasted no time in sprinting out from behind the tree and started to close the distance. Darting around a bench that separated them, he smirked when he saw that the creep was too scared to even move! He sat there, staring out towards Xander as he closed in on him. When he was finally close enough, he lunged at the man and wrapped his arm around his prey’s shoulders, holding him in place as he yanked his head up and exposed his throat. The man jerked—the instinct to survive taking over—and he grunted in confusion and tried to pull away. The motion twisted his neck as Xander went to bite down on it and when his fangs pierced through the flesh he found that it wasn’t a steady flow like Marcus had explained, but an explosion of blood. He was startled long enough to let the geyser spray his face, but as the taste seeped past his lips, he no longer worried about what had gone wrong and brought his hungry mouth down on the wound.

  The flavor was exquisite: sweet and metallic; just as he remembered from back at the mansion. He gulped, emptying his mouth as fast as possible for the next mouthful. The blood smeared his lips and cheeks, running down his chin, and he pulled away long enough to lap up what he could before returning to the man’s throat.

  When he felt the current begin to slow, his instincts urged him to bite down again and again, but he was only rewarded with a few more quick spurts and nothing more. Despite wanting more, he could sense from the dimming aura that the man had nothing left to give. He scowled and finally straightened himself, wiping the excess from his face as he turned towards Marcus, who had come out from hiding and stood in the moonlight, applauding.

  “That was fucking beautiful!” Marcus cheered, still clapping, “I’ve never seen a fledgling jump into overdrive so smoothly or quickly!”

  Xander frowned, “Overdrive?”

  Marcus nodded, “Yea. Well, that’s my word for it, but it works. Some have referred to it as ‘flitting’ but…” He stopped then and frowned, “Wait, you didn’t know you were doing it?”

  “Doing what?”

  Marcus’ clapping started up once more and laughed, “My star pupil in the making!” He calmed himself and approached, “Didn’t you notice our friend here made no attempt to get away? Didn’t even fucking move?”

  Xander frowned, “I just thought—”

  “Well you thought wrong! The truth is: you were moving so goddam fast he didn’t have time to react; he didn’t even see you coming at all!”

  Xander shook his head, looking back at the corpse, “But he struggled!”

  “Well yea,” he laughed “You were tearing into his neck, after all!” Marcus nodded towards the corpse, “You dropped out of overdrive right after you grabbed him. It’d be pointless to try and drink when you’re moving that fast; the blood would flow like frozen molasses!” he laughed at his own joke and clapped once more. “Look, the guy was sitting by himself when suddenly there was something grabbing at him and he freaked!”

  Xander nodded and looked at the corpse; an awkward mess of twisted limbs on the bench. “He couldn’t see me at all?”

  “Nope,” Marcus shook his head, “From where I was standing it looked like you’d teleported from the tree to him. There was nothing in between.”

  Xander frowned, “I was moving that fast?”

  Marcus nodded, “Have you ever seen a humming bird’s wings in flight?”

  “Well, no. I guess not really.”

  Marcus smiled, “When a sang kicks their ass into overdrive, they’re moving faster than those wings. And, since you’re not repeating the same motion over and over, you don’t even register as a blur to the human eye!”

  “I see,” Xander nodded and looked down at himself, taking in for the first time the gory mess his meal had left on his shirt. Marcus had mentioned before they left that he may want to wear something he didn’t mind getting dirty, and he was glad that he had listened, “That was like trying to drink from a fire hose!” he said, still sneering at his ruined shirt, “Did I do something wrong?”

  Marcus cocked his head and turned to look closer at the corpse before shaking his head, “Well, you fed, so technically no. But when our friend here decided to start jerking around you missed your mark and hit his jugular. Bite like that makes quite a mess. Still, it gets the job done.” He crouched down and continued to scan Xander’s kill, “Your vampire instincts are stronger then I would’ve thought.”

  “Instinct? If I did that on instinct alone then why bother training me at all?” Xander snorted.

  Marcus looked up, “It’s a matter of control. Overdrive consumes a great deal of energy. The training isn’t—or it won’t be—so much about teaching you how to do it, but when. I was just surprised at how well you transitioned.” He shook his head, beaming, “Instinct or not, newbies aren’t always so slick.”

  Xander smiled at the compliment.

  Marcus nodded, “Just one thing left to do.”

  Xander watched in morbid fascination as his mentor pulled the dead man’s head back and twisted it to the side. The sound of its neck breaking was louder than he would have thought and he flinched. When the job was done, he knelt down to take a closer look at the body.

  Marcus sighed, “C’mon, numb-nuts! You have to dump this thing! I’ll be in the car. Try not to take too long.”

  Xander sighed, watching as Marcus disappeared from sight—finally getting an idea of what “overdrive” looked like—before staring down at the corpse and lifting it from around the waist and hoisting it over his shoulder, startled at how easy it was.

  After flinging his victim into the lake, he spent a moment watching the rippling water distort the moon’s reflection. Before turning back and heading to Marcus’ car, he dipped his hands int
o the frigid water and washed his hands and face.

  ****

  After a week of feeding and basic combat training, Marcus once again surprised Xander by taking him on a trip into the city.

  As the two walked down the sidewalk and around a bend, they collided with a pod of teenagers. Marcus stepped around the group, putting them behind him in one fluid step and leaving Xander stuck in front of the crowd. He tried to move out of their way but was caught off guard when one of them—decked out in leather and sporting a purple Mohawk—puffed out his chest and stepped forward, smirking.

  “That is an excellent contact lens, dude! Very realistic!” he remarked, putting unneeded California-esque emphasis on “excellent” and “dude.”

  Xander frowned, not feeling the compliment, offered up a “Yea, thanks” and shoved through the group and caught up with Marcus.

  “YEA? WELL, FUCK YOU TOO, ASSHOLE!” The kid shouted at Xander’s back.

  Frowning, Xander stuffed his hands in his pockets, “Please tell me I can feed from him.”

  Marcus couldn’t help but smile, “Not really the social type, are you?”

  Xander scoffed, “What gave it away?”

  Marcus laughed and gave his shoulder a rough pat which Xander countered with his own.

  Marcus flinched.

  Xander noticed and smirked. There was no denying he was getting stronger; their sparring match earlier that night had proven that he was advancing faster than expected, and, though Xander had never been trained before, he was catching on quick. While Xander was proud of his progress, none was more surprised by it than Marcus, who had almost left their last sparring match with a dislocated his arm.

  Xander would have felt some pity for his mentor if it weren’t for the similar treatment he’d seen in previous sparring sessions. Several days earlier, upon finished a sparring match, Xander had gone into Stan’s house with a broken collarbone, two cracked ribs, several fractures in his left arm and a great deal of heavy bruising all over his body. Stan had been available to mend most of his injuries, and a bag of blood had been there to heal the last of his wounds.

  “So when’s the fun start?” Xander asked as they put the teens further behind them.

  “Soon,” Marcus answered, preoccupied, as he glanced around for any onlookers before stepping between two buildings. The space was wide enough to fit a bus into and twice as long; the far side coming to a dead-end with a dumpster. Satisfied with the location, Marcus turned towards him, “You’ve been feeling it lately, right?” he asked.

  Taken aback by the question, Xander looked up, “Huh?”

  Marcus rolled his eyes, “The strength! You’ve fed like it was fucking vampire-Thanksgiving night after night for nearly a week! You must feel like the goddam Hulk by now!”

  Xander frowned as he thought of this. Along with the kill in the park he had been supplied with an almost endless supply of bagged blood, and he was feeling stronger, “I guess.”

  Marcus shook his head, “Your enthusiasm inspires me.” He looked up along the length of the buildings that rose up into the night sky and then back at his pupil, holding out his hand. Xander wasn’t sure when he had grabbed them, but, staring into Marcus’ palm he saw three rings.

  Marcus clenched his hand again, concealing the jewelry and bringing Xander’s attention back to him, “These were going to be a gift from Depok when your training was complete, but we both know how that ended. I don’t know what they mean, but Stan said he’d tell you when it was his turn to train you. He does, however, want you to have them by the end of tonight. I’ve decided that instead of simply giving them to you, though, I’ll use them as an incentive. So, to get them you’ll have to perfect your strength and…” he tossed all three rings into the air and caught them each one at a time, “… your agility.” When he had finished his speech he walked over to the dumpster and threw one of the rings underneath. Xander’s jaw dropped in astonishment. “You know,” Marcus teased, “I’ve seen the trucks actually start to tilt from all the weight when they’re this full!” He smirked at Xander before jumping several yards straight up to the first of a series of fire escape platforms and looking back down at him, “You can get started with that project before a rat makes off with it.” With that he turned and launched himself across the gap between the two buildings, landing on the next fire escape platform and climbing to the one above it.

  Xander forced his attention away from his mentor despite the awe of the superhuman spectacle.

  The dumpster was old—not very, but old enough to have accumulated rust and other forms of nastiness. He was sure working up the nerve to actually touch the dumpster was a test in and of itself. He looked again to the fire escapes, where Marcus continued to leap impossible distances only to pause and do it again. When his mentor caught him peeking he glared.

  “Don’t waste time watching me, kid. You got a present to open!”

  Xander frowned and turned towards the dumpster once again. Closing his eyes and pretending it wasn’t what he knew it was, he grabbed it by the bottom corner and pulled up as hard as he could.

  Nothing happened.

  He put his mind into focus, pushing himself as he had all those times he had gone into overdrive. His muscles throbbed and he heard the front end of the dumpster begin to creak as it lifted off the ground. But it still wasn’t enough.

  “Better hurry up, Stryker!” Marcus shouted down, “I’m going to start the second task without you, and it’s timed!”

  Xander sighed in frustration. He knew that Marcus would make him repeat the process over and over; even if the sun came up—he was sure that his mentor would turn the threat of sunlight into a lesson of its own. He struggled once more with trying to lift the obstacle and finally released it, the front end crashing down and echoing through the alley.

  He groaned in disgust and shook his head, “Gross” he muttered as he pulled back his fist and drove it into the side of the dumpster, which indented, leaving a somewhat well-formed outline of his fist. Looking at the damage he’d inflicted he smiled, hatching an idea, and pulled his arm back and threw his fist again and again into the dent until it tore open and formed a hole the size of his head. The side of a garbage bag rolled and tried to spill out but got stuck and spewed some of its contents at his feet. He felt himself wretch and then composed himself, gripping the corners of the hole and pulling it open, widening it until he could crawl inside. Once he was submerged in filth, he dug downward to the bottom and began to repeat the punch-and-tear process until he’d revealed the ring on the pavement below. Grabbing his prize and sliding it onto his finger, he hurried in pulling himself out and began wiping away the grime.

  Marcus’ familiar applause sounded and he looked up at his mentor, who was sitting—feet dangling—on the edge of the building on the left, “You know that Stan will never let you into his house looking and smelling like that!” he laughed.

  Xander considered screaming some obscenity up at him, but figured it would only lead to further torment, “Just tell me what the next task is!”

  Marcus kicked out his legs and clucked his tongue as he surveyed the fire escapes he’d just scaled before answering: “Task two: a test of speed, reflexes, and observation under pressure. You saw how I got up here and now all you have to do is the same thing. There are thirty-eight platforms between these two buildings, and each one has something on it resembling a ring. I’m going to give you a break and give you ten seconds to retrieve everything and put all the decoys in this:” he held up a coffee can. “Your final prize will be waiting beside it.” He grinned as he rolled the final ring between his fingers, “It’s really too nice to be tossing under dumpsters and leaving on rusted fire escapes.”

  Xander frowned, “But how do I jump like that?”

  “It’s just like overdrive, kid,” Marcus answered, “Just do it.”

  Xander nodded and paced for several moments before signaling that he was ready to begin.

  Marcus waved a stopwatch, “I pres
s this and you start, it will be by the coffee can when you’re done. I’ll let you stop it yourself to ensure accuracy.” He held his arm up.

  Xander held his breath.

  The beep of the watch sounded and Xander jumped into overdrive and went to jump to the first platform and cleared several feet of air before landing on the alley floor again. He frowned, realizing the clock was ticking and he’d just screwed up. Desperate to make up for lost time, he ran at the opposite wall and jumped, pushing off of it with his right foot and using the momentum to carry him to the first platform where he found a washer. This he snagged and used his arms to throw himself over the railing to the next fire escape platform: a marble?

  After the third jump to the next platform—a cheap, vending machine ring—he realized that he was getting the hang of it. His landing at the next platform was shaky and he teetered and began to fall. Regaining his composure at the last moment, he scanned and finally found the second ring! He took the prize, not stopping to admire it before sliding it onto his left middle finger and next to the one from the dumpster.

  He continued to collect the fakes, knowing well that Marcus would make him do the whole thing over again if he didn’t. When, at last, he reached the roof he found Marcus, looking as though he were frozen in time. Suppressing the urge to use the opportunity to his advantage and pop his mentor a much needed punch to the face, he dropped the fake rings—or at least released them and let them hang in midair in a super-slowed descent—into the coffee can and scooped up the last of the rings. With the task completed, he snatched the stopwatch from Marcus’ hand and stopped the timer; dropping out of overdrive as he did.

  The digital reader paused at 13.27 seconds…

  Xander’s shoulders slumped as Marcus stood up and read it, nodding his head, “Good job.”

  Xander sighed and handed the stopwatch back to him, “Good job? But you said ten seconds!”