by Slay (epub)
It reminds me of how much we’ve lost. Of how much has been sacrificed at the altar of the only God this world worships.
For me that night was far from over. Once the leopard was out of sight, control of my body returned to a woman who was utterly shattered, but who was also filled with enough rage to fill a mountain. Revenge was all I wanted. I needed it. Hungered for it.
And so, after consulting my plastic, yellow watch, I reached up to the mask again, that old slab of wood, shaped long ago by the Babanki into something fierce. Something with curved tusks, a painted trunk and ugly vertical eyes. Like I did whenever I needed to become something other than myself, I slid the mask down.
Hiding the woman.
Becoming the beast once again.
The Future
Bloodline
Milton J. Davis
We were cruising down Peachtree Street when Kerry got pissed. It was midnight. Despite his treatments, he still preferred to go out after sundown, especially on cloudy nights. The slick streets shimmered from the recent summer shower, so I told him to slow down.
“What? You afraid we might have an accident?” He smiled at me devilishly.
“That’s easy for you to laugh at,” I replied. “I’m new.”
Kerry jerked the steering wheel and we drifted left off Peachtree to International. We plunged down the steep hill before he slammed on the brakes at the intersection. An Inquisitor standing on the corner by Peachtree Plaza glared at us from behind his facemask, his lance aimed in our direction. Kerry gripped the steering wheel tighter, the veins in his hands and forearms visible.
“Kerry, don’t,” I whispered.
“Fucking overseers,” he whispered back.
Kerry was angry, but he wasn’t a fool. That lance would spit a streak of angel fire that would smoke both of us in seconds. He waited for the light to turn then pulled away slowly. We stopped again at the light before Centennial Park then turned left again, migrating around the park to the light between Phillips Arena and the CNN Center.
“I’m hungry,” I said.
Kerry looked at me with a frown. “You expect me to take you all the way back home so you can eat?”
“No, there’s an open market nearby,” I answered.
“Where?”
“In Midtown near Ponce City Market.”
The light turned green and Kerry slammed on the gas, leaving a blue-white cloud of smoke. I felt sorry for him. I was born after the Inquisition, so life had always been this way for me. Kerry was old school, a Trueblood. He looked my age, but he was at least seven hundred years old. He’d known only one way to live and that had been stripped from him by the Church. Once the scientists identified the genetic codes that revealed what we were, it was easy for the Inquisitors to hunt us down. They rounded us up and locked us in internment camps until the See could determine what to do with us. The others weren’t so lucky. We had always been popular in a morbid sort of way so there were Believers that spoke for our salvation. The others were killed where they stood; werewolves, witches, and warlocks slaughtered by the Inquisitors and their Angel Fire staffs. At least that’s what I was taught in history class. The same scientists that discovered how to identify us came up with a way to fix us. It involved a series of treatments that would convert our DNA and make us almost normal. But some things they couldn’t change.
Kerry drove to the market without my directions. He pretended earlier not to know but I knew he did. All of us do.
“Hurry up,” he said.
I got out the car and entered the Sunshine Market. I was dressed for date night; my skirt was short and my blouse low cut. My hair floated over my head in an afro; this time of year, was too humid so I just let it go natural. The men in the market leered at me until it became clear where I was headed. Their looks became frowns of disgust. By the time I reached the back of the market the only person paying attention to me was Jackie Zhang.
“Whoa, Telisa! You look good tonight!”
“Watch it, Jackie,” I warned. “Mrs. Zhang might hear you. You got some fruit?”
He grinned. “Just got some in today. Good ones, too”
Jackie reached under the counter and brought up a large blood fruit. The veins pulsed close to the surface and my stomach growled.
“Do all of them look like this one?”
“Yep.”
“I’ll take four.”
Jackie bagged them up. “This is a lot of fruit for one person.”
“I’m with Kerry.”
Jackie frowned. “I don’t see why you spend time with that low life.”
It was my turn to frown. “Shut it, Jackie. You’re not my daddy. How much?”
“It’s on the house tonight.”
“You’re so sweet!” I leaned over the counter and kissed him on the cheek. “Tell Mrs. Zhang I said hi.”
Kerry was still mean mugging when I got back to the car.
“What took you so long?”
I jumped in and took a blood fruit from the bag. “Me and Jackie were talking.”
“That dirty old bastard makes me sick.”
“Everybody makes you sick.” I bit into the blood fruit, my fangs sinking into a thick vein. It was a juicy one; the warm red fluid ran down my cheek. I wiped it away with my hand then licked my fingers.
“Want one?” I offered.
Kerry looked away. “I’m not hungry.”
I shrugged and enjoyed my meal. The boys in the white coats failed to curb our cravings completely, so they developed blood fruit. It’s not really a fruit, but a simple organism that produces human blood. They’re great, but the old heads think they’re disgusting. They prefer the alternative, but the alternative will get you smoked.
We were cruising through Buckhead when things got funky. We stopped at a red light at the corner of Peachtree and Pharr. A swarm of party goers crossed before us, young men and women smelling and looking good.
“That’s what we should be enjoying,” Kerry said.
“Stop it,” I said.
“They used to fear us, now they just laugh at us.”
“The light’s green,” I said.
Kerry ignored me; his eyes locked on the young throng forming a line into the nightclub. Then he slammed on the gas and we sped toward downtown.
“Slow down! I said.
He kept speeding until we were downtown. He swung into a parking lot and grabbed my wrist, pulling me out of the car. I had to almost run to keep up with him, he was walking so fast.
“What’s going on?” I said. Nervous sweat beaded on my forehead and hands trembled. “Where are we going?”
He led me into a narrow alley, spun me about and kissed me. I kissed him back hard, moaning as his hand moved down my back and under my skirt. This wasn’t the first time we’d done it in public, but something about this time was different. I was working my hands down his pants when he pushed me away.
“Wait here,” he said.
“What?”
“Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
A chill ran from my head to my toes, dousing my amorous heat. One minute my man was feeling me up in an alley and the next minute he was gone. Before I could get angry, he was back.
“I brought you something,” he said.
It was a man. He was dressed in a concierge uniform, his eyes half closed.
“Now here’s a real meal!”
He jerked the man up and bit his neck. The man groaned but didn’t struggle as Kerry drank his blood. He dropped the man then came to me.
“Kerry, I don’t want any part of this,” I said. He gripped the back of my head and kissed me. I tasted blood on his lips, blood like I never tasted before. It was so warm and so . . . sweet. I ran my tongue through his mouth, savoring the trickle of blood still there.
Kerry pulled away. “See? This is what we were meant to have.”
A bright light flooded the alley, blinding us.
“They’re in here,” a voice shouted. “Send back up!”
An Inquisitor emerged from the light, his lance tip glowing. Kerry shoved me aside and leaped higher than I’d ever seen anyone leap. Angel fire burned over my head as I fell. My head struck the ground and I was stunned for a minute; when my vision cleared Kerry and the Inquisitor struggled in front of me. The lance was broken. The two of them slammed each other against the walls. I heard footsteps heading towards the alley.
Kerry lifted the Inquisitor off the ground by the neck with both hands. He pinned him against the wall and looked at me.
“Get out of here!” he shouted.
“Kerry, no!” I pleaded. “Let him go. They’re going to kill you.”
“Living like this, I’m already dead.” He smiled at me. “Remember what you are. Remember what it’s like.”
A squad of Inquisitors charged into the alley. Kerry threw his Inquisitor at them then leaped into their midst. I ran in the other direction, escaping into the parking lot. The concierge was there propped against the wall, trying to stop the bleeding from his neck. I rushed him, knocking his hand away and digging my fangs into his neck. The taste was exhilarating. He tried to struggle but I held him still, surprised at my strength. I drank until there was nothing left, the concierge limp in my arms. Angel fire flashed from the alley; I dropped the body and ran.
I don’t know whether to thank Kerry or curse him. He’s dead so I can’t do either. The Inquisitors are hunting me, calling me a backslider. If I turned myself in and confessed, I would be rehabilitated. But I can’t. It’s just too good. I feel better and stronger that I ever have. Kerry told me to remember what I am, but the reality is I never knew.
Now I do.
I can never go back.
-2-
* * *
I love the feel of night. I love the way the shadows caress my shoulders and obscure my flaws. I revel in coolness that exists in the dark despite the time of year. Most of all, I love how the night brings out the best and the worst in us all. The absence of sunlight, a shield that hides our actions, whatever they might be.
I understand now why the old ones hunted at night. The light was their enemy, revealing the natural urge in them considered vile and grotesque by the others. Kerry was an old one, preferring the night despite the freedom of the Inquisition. I never understood, until now.
I had been a backslider for two years, seven hundred and thirty days of hunting and being hunted. I smelled, my clothes were ragged, and my hair had twisted into knots. Sometimes I tried to hate Kerry for introducing me to this life, but most of the time I rarely thought of him. I was consumed with the hunger and the pursuit of prey. There was no other feeling.
The abandoned building I called home teemed with the homeless, their coming and going a parade of curses, clanging and crunching. The fact that the Inquisitors attempted to be silent gave them away.
Despite the noise, I heard them. I crouched in filth and closed my eyes to see with my other senses. After I began feeding the old way, I changed. This was one of the ways. My entire being transformed, tuned to my prey’s existence like a lion instinctively knows the ways of the antelope. The men reeked; their pheromones making them easy to spot. Someone else lurked among them, a person whose image was less distinct. It was a woman. Her scent was an irritant to me; it seems I was meant to hunt men. Her presence could cause a problem, especially if she broke away from the others.
She did.
I worked my way towards the rear of the building, expecting to escape out of the back door leading into a trash strewn alley and on to the streets. Cold metal pressed against my back and a sharp prick burned in my neck just as I was about to turn.
“Come with me, “ the woman ordered. I expected her to lead me towards her companions. Instead she took me where I was headed, the alleyway.
“Turn around,” she said. I turned and looked into her stern face. She was pretty, strands of black hair escaping from beneath her helmet.
“Remember my face. I’ll meet you here tomorrow.”
“Why should I come back if you’re letting me go?”
“You have a nano GPS swimming in your veins. If you try to leave town within the next forty-eight hours, I’ll call a team, tell them where you are, and you’ll get smoked.”
“I could just turn myself in for redemption.”
She smiled. “Not you. Besides, I can get you out of here.”
“Where?” I asked.
“Somewhere safe,” she answered. “Somewhere vampires aren’t hated or hunted.”
I snarled, baring my fangs. “Why are you doing this?”
Her face changed. A shadow of sorrow flashed across her eyes. “I need your help.”
I heard chatter spilling from her earpiece and her face became stern again. “Remember. Here. Tomorrow. Now go.”
She stepped aside and I ran into the alley. The darkness proved no problem for me. The other skill I now had was excellent night vision. I had morphed into a predator, my physical senses enhanced and attuned to my prey. It was a waste. I wasn’t hunting down wary Homo sapiens in dense forests; I was swatting them like flies in a human trash heap. All I had to do was reach out and dinner was served.
Leaving the slums meant changing my appearance. I jumped alleyways and vacant lots until I reached Buckhead, and then did a quick smash and grab on an upscale jeans boutique. I washed up the best I could at the Marta station and changed. With the exception of makeup, I cleaned up pretty good. Old memories crept into my head; the days when men looked at me with desire until they saw my fangs. Now they didn’t bother. I was just another homeless bitch to be used or avoided, except when they approached me to have a little fun. Then they found the tables turned.
Later, I returned to the building and I was hungry. The woman was waiting. She looked different out of uniform, cute, actually. Her long hair was pulled back into a ponytail that teased the small of her back. She wore a white blouse and short blue jean mini-skirt, showing off her toned legs. It was a dangerous way to dress in that part of town. She spotted me and waved me over to her Jeep. The passenger door swung open.
“Get in,” she ordered.
I hesitated but got in. A grocery bag rested on the floor between us; I knew what it was before she said a word.
“Eat, but not too much. I need you hungry.”
I reached into the bag and pulled out a pulsing blood fruit. It had been so long since I fed on the placebo that I had no appetite for it. I bit into it anyway and was surprised. It was better that I thought it would be. Not good, but good enough.
The woman sped off, working her way out of the slums and onto 75/85. We headed north out of the city and into the mountains. We were both quiet, her eyes locked on the road, my eyes locked on her. I reached for another blood fruit and she grabbed my wrist.
“That’s enough,” she barked.
I’ve never bitten anyone out of anger, but I came damn close.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” she replied. “It’s best you don’t know. Better for both of us.”
Our journey ended on a dirt road before a redwood cabin. The woman jumped out of the Jeep and ran to the door. I followed as I was expected to. The inside of the cabin was modest, similar to a studio apartment. There was a small kitchen, an old couch and a DTV hanging on the wall. A double bed filled the corner of the cabin, filled by a man hooked to an IV. The woman grabbed my arm and towed me to the bed ridden man.
“What wrong with him?” I asked.
“Cancer,” she said, her voice trembling. “Terminal.”
“So why am I here?”
She looked at me and I couldn’t tell if she was angry or desperate.
“Bite him.”
I was stunned. I looked at her and read the certainty in her eyes.
“So, you want me to kill him, to put him out of his misery.”
She laughed. “I want you to do just the opposite. I want you to heal him.”
“Look, if I bite him, I kill him.”
/> She laughed again, which pissed me off. “You should look behind you once you’re done eating. Every person you’ve bitten has lived. Better still, they come back just like you.”
“Bullshit,” was all I could say.
“That’s why the Clergy wants you dead. You’re a vampire virus. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
She sat in a metal folding chair by the man’s head and whispered to him in Spanish.
“You were created to scare people back to the church. Once the Redemption began, they eliminated all the freaks except vampires. They saw possibilities in you, clues to immortality. You’re the first one to prove that it’s possible.”
I wanted to sit. No, I wanted to faint, but I was too mad.
“So, they want me so they can dissect me and study me.”
The woman nodded. I looked at her man, his skin grayish, his chest barely rising and falling.
“If I bite him, he’ll be like me.”
The woman looked at me with pleading eyes. “I know, but he’ll be alive.”
So, I bit him. I had no choice. She wouldn’t remove the tracking chip unless I did. I could taste the cancer in him, but I drank. I quickly remembered why I gave up blood fruit. I took my fill then stopped, wiping my mouth with my sleeve.
“Now what?” I asked.
The woman stroked the man’s hair for a moment then went to the tiny chest at the foot of the bed.
“Sit down,” she ordered.
I sat on the edge of the bed.
“This is going to hurt,” she said.
I felt a sharp pain at the base of my neck. After a few uncomfortable minutes, the pain subsided.
“What was that?” I asked.
“I deactivated the tracker,” the woman replied. “Stand up.”
I stood. The woman opened the chest where I sat, took out a satchel and gave it to me.
