The Dark Messiah

by Michael Anderle

  Jacqueline grabbed the rag from where she kept it and dried off her hands. She confirmed her knife’s location and caught up a six-foot stick she had been practicing with. Her hearing was good enough that if someone came for her, she had a chance to fend for herself.

  If she could see, she would have already been heading for the town’s walls to see if she could get over and get lost before anyone noticed.

  The screams and the fear hit at almost the same time. She stumbled back, hitting the cupboard hard enough that some of the dishes crashed to the floor.

  She put her hands over her ears. The screams coming out of the night caused her blood to run cold. She knew that men she would have gleefully killed moments ago were dying out there, but it brought her no happiness.

  Then, there was a pause in the screaming, and the fear receded. She listened, her Were senses straining to hear anything, to provide her any sort of information on the outcome.

  That’s when she heard Jack Childers start screaming in pain.

  —

  Jack and his group came riding hard into the town. “Stanton!” he yelled up at the gate guard as he rode past, “ring the alarm bell!”

  The bell’s ringing caused another ten men to come out of the buildings. One was hopping as he tried to put his pants on. Finally, he got them on and jogged over. The riders dismounted, and the horses were gathered up and taken to the stables. The men all formed in the middle of the street, Jack looking around, ready to pull together his defenses.

  “Men!” Jack called out, “We have been attacked by something evil in the Fallen Lands. We have…”

  A voice, dark and malicious cut through the night, stopping Jack’s speech cold. “How nice of you to gather everyone in one place,”

  The men, some pulling out their pistols, looked around in alarm. The voice seemed to be coming from everywhere, even from inside their damned heads!

  The voice continued, “So, this is how evil perseveres? Men who are willing to follow the decrepit in spirit, the weak in heart, for selfish gain. Allowing the soul which should be free, subjugated? Where is the honor in that?”

  Jack, looking around, couldn’t find where the voice was coming from, “Show yourself!”

  “Why Jack?” The voice whispered, “I’m right here!”

  All of the men turned to see two red eyes walking towards them down the street. The fear hit them at the same second, and most of the men lost their ability to stand.

  Tony stumbled over to the left, retaining enough muscle control to raise his pistol slowly. The evil demon turned and walked to him. He slid his hand over Tony’s gun hand and help him point Tony’s own pistol at the poor man’s head.

  The man in black spoke, “There you go, pull the trigger, and the fear will go away,” he told him, his voice velvet over steel.

  BAM!

  Jack and Russell, both fighting the fear from the ground had to watch the scene play out, as Tony shot himself. The brains from the side of his head spraying the side of the building as his body slumped.

  The demon turned towards the men and reached under his coat. He pulled out a short sword and unsheathed it. The metal gleamed in the moonlight, the lanterns around the town occasionally reflected from the glinting silver steel.

  “You see,” he started walking around the circle, occasionally flicking his sword out, cutting a man. Wounds, not death, causing extreme pain filling the night with anguished sounds. “Your sins give you away.”

  He stopped in front of Earl Withers and knelt down. “You cut off the fingers of those who upset you?” He stood up and stepped on Earl’s wrist, “eenie, meenie…screw it.” Earl screamed in pain as the fingers on his right hand blazed in pain.

  “That’s one finger for each time you did it, Earl.” He started walking around the group again, eyeing Jack and Russell and pointed to them with his sword, “I’ll get to you two in a moment.”

  It took Michael five minutes to dispatch Earl and the others. Then Russell and Jack faced the man. His eyes weren’t glowing anymore.

  But they were ...

  Alone.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “What the fuck has that bitch ever done for you?” Jack grated out, “You killed over forty men.”

  “Fifty,” Russell spat out, still fighting the level of fear racking his body.

  “What the fuck ever, Russell.” Jack spat back, “Why is one slut worth fifty men to you?”

  Michael looked down at the two men, “You are asking me why I kill your people? When you intended to kill the four in the house, especially the woman?” He received no response. “Then, you want to argue with me that perhaps I went overboard with killing fifty people to your planned four?”

  “Fuck….you….” Russell cursed at him.

  “My my my,” Michael walked over to stand above the large man, “Here, let me help you focus.” Michael reached inside his coat and pulled out a pistol. One Jack didn’t recognize. “Now, I don’t know that you have ever heard this speech before, so you probably won’t know how I changed it, Jack ...” He nodded to the other man, “ … or you, Russell.”

  The gun had something glowing on the side, and Michael pointed it down at Russell, “This is a Jean Dukes’ special, or so the note informed me. It is the most powerful handgun on this planet at the moment. In fact, I have a version that goes to eleven.” He turned the pistol in his hand and admired it, “I’m not really into guns myself. I prefer swords or just claws usually. However,” he turned the gun back, once again pointing it at Russell. “I think this is an appropriate use for the gun, right? You shoot others, the death by the weapon is appropriate, right Russell?” The man’s eyes grew round as the pistol aimed at him, “You will notice the gun barrel hole is rather tiny. The reason I’m not asking you, ‘how many shots I’ve fired, punk,' is that this baby will shoot about five thousand.”

  Michael smirked, “And there is no way I am wasting that many shots to make the conversation fit the movie I’m stealing this from. So,” Michael depressed the trigger and Russell’s head exploded. Disintegrating into mist, his body twitching for a second before it stilled.

  Michael returned the pistol to his holster, and the fear receded. Jack was able to turn and see the destruction of his friend.

  When he turned back around to face the stranger, he noticed the man had red eyes, and fangs. In fact, he had also grown two-inch nails on his right hand.

  Jack started screaming and continued crying after Michael plunged his hand into Jack’s chest. Breaking through his rib cage easily, he tore through the blood vessels holding the heart and pulled it out. Jack had just enough life in him to hear Michael’s whispered statement.

  “I’m being called a Messiah, Jack,” Michael told him as he watched the life leave Jack’s eyes.

  “Just not yours,” he finished and dropped the heart beside the dead man as he stood up, and sniffed the wind.

  His eyes narrowed, and he turned in the street before walking towards a scent he hadn’t expected to smell.

  The scent of Were.

  —

  Jacqueline could hear the pain, the questions, the violence outside.

  And her body trembled.

  This man wasn’t just any killer. He was someone from her world, the UnknownWorld, and he wasn’t a Were. He had to be a vampire, and her father had warned her many, many times that she needed to get ahold of her anger over her mother dying. Because one day, she might run into a vampire and if she didn’t know how to keep her anger in check?

  Well, vampires often had a no-second-chances policy.

  A tear traced its way down her face. Thinking about her father, whom she had left so many years before to walk the Fallen Lands, caused her to revisit the guilt she felt in her soul. He had been right. She had been wrong, and now there was a vampire killing the men in this town.

  Correction, she thought as she heard the door to the mess open. He was here with her, not out in the town.

  She opened her hand and let the stic
k drop. It didn’t matter, she couldn’t see. What was she going to do, swing wildly at him? Hope to connect her stick to his head and then do what? He would just heal, and come find her.

  His voice, when he spoke, was gentle. “I smell you, and you hear me. So let’s talk.”

  Jacqueline wiped the tear off of her cheek and stood up. She reached out with her left hand to grab the wall to feel exactly where she was.

  About to die or not, she wasn’t going to go out like those two assholes out in the street, crying like the little bitches they were.

  She heard him chuckle.

  “I’m coming,” she told him when her hand reached the door opening. She opened the door and stepped out, cocking her ear to find his heartbeat. Then she turned her head towards the table near the door he had come through. There were over twenty round tables in here, most seating six.

  He started tapping on the table, allowing her to find his position accurately. She had deftly passed three of the tables when he commanded, “Stop!”

  She stopped in place.

  “One moment,” he told her. She could hear him pull something out from his coat and then a very tiny, high-pitched noise followed by a huge CRACK. A man cursed outside, then a body lurched off the porch to land back in the street.

  He started walking towards her, “My apologies, they thought to intrude on our conversation.” She heard him pick up a chair, “This would have been in your way. If you turn around, you can sit down.”

  Her hands trembling, Jacqueline turned around to feel one of the chairs gently bump up against the back of her legs. “It has handles, use them to sit.”

  She reached back and found the armrests he was talking about. It was but a second for her to sit. He walked to stand in front of her. “Name?”

  “Jacqueline.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Jacqueline, my name is Michael,” he replied. “I can smell Were on you, but don’t understand why you can’t see.” His pause was short, “How did this happen?”

  “I was in the F-Fallen La… Lands ...” she stuttered before taking a moment for a couple of calming breaths, and starting again. “I was in the Fallen Lands, seeking my fortune when the group I was with was attacked. I had been shot, but not killed. I look young for my age.”

  “Yes, good genetics,” he agreed.

  “Well, not so good at the moment. I was sold to that bastard you killed outside.”

  “Jack?” he asked her, “Sorry, there are so many bastards dead out in the street, I’m just making sure I know which one.”

  She nodded, “He thought to keep me until I matured so he could … well, so he would be my first.”

  “Well, he would have been disappointed,” Michael commented. Her lips compressed and her face went from scared to more annoyed.

  She was actually working on trying not to piss off the killer.

  She heard a dark chuckle, “No need to be annoyed. I don’t know your sexual status. However, my experiences with Weres indicates that you are a randy bunch, and your age isn’t anywhere near your looks. So, I guess he wouldn’t have been your first.”

  She shook her head. “Known many Weres, have you?”

  “Thousands,” he murmured. His attention somewhere else.

  Thousands? How could he have known thousands? She was the daughter of a very, very old and important Were and if she knew just ONE thousand, she would be shocked. She probably knew of less than three hundred.

  Seven of those were killed when she was captured.

  “I see,” his hand touched her face. No matter how gentle it was, she had to resist the desire to bite it.

  He told her, in a normal speaking voice, “You try to bite me, and I will slap your mouth into tomorrow. It would not be nice to attempt to bite the hand that is going to return your sight to you.” His voice brooked no argument. “Now, grab the armrests, this will probably hurt for a second. I’ll try to do something that takes your mind off of it.

  Jacqueline put her hands around the arm rests and gripped hard. Not sure what the man was expecting to do, or how he was going to…

  OH….MY…GOD!

  She felt like she was going to fall apart, the pleasure centers of her body were flooding as intensely as the fear aspect that had hit her earlier.

  She swore she heard women, screaming in pleasure, from the next building over. She bit down hard, trying to make sure she didn’t say, moan, or do anything she would be flaming embarrassed about later.

  She felt pain near her eye, but frankly, the overwhelming pleasure was making it hard to care about.

  In a few seconds, the pleasure started to recede, and she was left, hyperventilating in the chair. She turned towards him, noticing that she saw an outline.

  AN OUTLINE!

  “Oh my God,” she choked out, her hands coming up to her eyes. “You’ve healed me.” She turned her head and could start to see the round blobs of tables. Turning back, she noticed his face was becoming clear for her.

  “Oh…damn. You are fucking beautiful.” She just stopped her hands from reaching out to touch his face.

  “Well, thank you,” he answered.

  Her face blushed crimson, “I did NOT just say that out loud, did I?” Then something behind her eyes popped and everything was in focus. “What happened to your hair?” was the next thing to come out of her mouth.

  He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, his voice was gruff. “Nanocytes are a four-letter word, that is all I’m explaining.”

  “Oh, sorry!” She put a hand to her face, “I can’t believe I can see.” She started to get up, and he stepped back. “Although, the hairless look is very good on you.” She turned to look around the room, “How did you do it?”

  “This.” He answered, and she turned back around to see him holding up his index finger for her to look at. She moved closer to look at what he was showing her.

  There was a blood-covered silver fragment on the tip of his finger.

  “I was shot with silver?” She looked up to him for confirmation.

  He nodded, “I imagine that is how they killed the others of your group.” He aimed his hand away from her and flicked the silver off to the side.

  She turned towards the door. “There are visitors.” She stepped around him to grab her stick and came back. “I’ve been waiting to get a bit of my own, back.”

  “You plan on hitting women?” Michael asked her.

  Her brows furled and she sniffed the air and looked at him quizzically.

  “I think, perhaps, the effort to make you more comfortable when I had to find the silver was a little too strong?” he admitted.

  She turned around, ripping off the apron and tossing it on a chair as she walked back to the kitchen, “Back door.”

  Michael raised an eyebrow as he looked at the front door and then turned to follow the Were woman.

  “Good plan.”

  —

  Michael made sure Jacqueline had supplies and two horses.

  She would head towards Denver first, then try to meet back up with him, perhaps to move on to Chicago where her father lived if he wasn’t available.

  Since the Apoc, the temperatures had risen all over the land, and Denver had no major source of water. She would warn the local Were pack of the hunters using silver and then return to catch up to him inside Denver to help him understand how things worked these days.

  She was shocked to learn he didn’t know about how to get around the Fallen Lands at all.

  “How are you alive?” She muttered and then realized how it sounded. “Sorry.”

  She needed to see her father one more time if only to admit that she loved him and that he was right. She really needed to work on her anger and how the hell was she supposed to know daywalking vampires existed?

  Michael was able to grab some food and other supplies. He stashed them on the handful of horses he was leading. He camped out for the night and part of the morning before he continued back towards Sarah Jennifer’s home.

  He co
uld hear some muffled cursing as he came over a small rise. He stopped, allowing those at the house to see him and confirm he wasn’t an enemy, before casually walking down the rise towards the house ahead of him.