by A. P. Fuchs
The lady in blue and the one in white were on him immediately. One pulled his legs out from under him and he hit the ground on his back. The other kicked him in the head then knelt down beside him, mouth wide, ready to feed. The girl in blue crawled up his body from by his legs like a mutated spider. He stuck the sword in her forehead, jerked the blade, and threw her to the side. The woman flailed on the ground as she tried to withdraw the blade from her skull. The one in white moved in to bite his neck. Marcus shot his fist into her face, careful to hit her between the eyes and not in the mouth lest he risk getting infected. With the remaining sword, he brought it down in an arc and slammed it home into her neck. Red, coagulated blood gushed out.
He got to his feet. The woman in blue nearly had the blade out. He drove his heel into the butt of the sword and sent the blade into the woman’s brain again. She fell on her back; he jumped on her, removing his knife from the sheath on his leg in the process. A quick plunge of the silver metal to the woman’s heart and her body disintegrated before him.
Only the lady in white remained. She hissed and growled as she removed the blade from her throat. She came at him, sword held high. His blade met hers in a clash of silver. He kicked her in the gut, sent her stumbling back a few steps, then swiftly closed the distance and drove the sword through her heart. With a shriek, her body exploded like a whirl of snow before disappearing altogether.
Marcus took a deep breath, mentally regrouped, then gathered up his weapons. Shelly was around here somewhere. Though he knew better than to trust a bloodsucker, he just hoped he wasn’t too late.
11
“I thought you said we were going out?” Rose asked Parker. The two sat on the sofa of Parker’s pal Rick’s place.
“I don’t know, did I?”
“I think so.”
“Why, what’s wrong?”
Rick’s rec room had eight people in it: five guys, three girls. Rose didn’t know any of them except Parker.
“I’ve never been here before,” she said.
“You need a drink,” he said and took a swig of beer.
“Don’t really feel like one.”
“Why not?”
“It’s, um . . .” She didn’t want to admit she’d never drank before, at least nothing outside the occasional glass of wine her dad sometimes let her have on Thanksgiving or Christmas.
“Oh, come on. You’re a booze virgin? I know you’re the other kind, but—”
“Parker!”
“Sorry.” He looked at his bottle. “Not me talking.”
“Yeah, right.” She crossed her arms.
Some guy across the room standing next to the pool table shouted at them, “Hey, P., you getting in on this? Mike said he could take me on calls.”
“In a minute,” Parker said with a raise of his finger.
Rose leaned closer to him. “I just don’t know anyone and I didn’t really plan on coming out anyway.” She hated being a party pooper, but Parker had pulled a fast one on her and wasn’t clear about what was going down tonight.
He seemed to consider her words. “Tell you what: let me watch this game then I’ll take you home.”
“How much have you had to drink?”
“I don’t know, three, four?”
“And if you get pulled over?”
He scrunched his face. “I won’t get pulled over, you kidding? Cops are stretched thin as it is. No time for routine traffic stops. Besides, they mostly do that on holidays and there ain’t one for a while.”
She sighed. “Thanks anyway, but I’ll head ’er home on my own. Don’t want to take a chance.”
“Going to call Daddy?”
“Okay, I’m done,” she said and stood from the couch. “See ya.”
“I’ll be here.”
From across the room: “Parker! You deaf? Let’s go!”
Rose made her way to the stairs, ignoring the looks everyone gave her as she did.
Just want to go home, pour a hot bath, and relax. “Parker’s an idiot,” she muttered. Just a couple too many and he sometimes says things he doesn’t mean. Can only imagine what comes out of his mouth when he’s really hammered. She put on her shoes and headed out the door.
Going down the driveway, she looked up at the night sky. It was partly cloudy; the sky that was exposed was crystal clear. It reminded her of late night walks with Zach. He was out there somewhere. He was still considered a missing person. His family was in hysterics at first, but now spent every day on edge, wondering if the next phone call would be news about their son. She didn’t check in often with them anymore, not that she didn’t want to, but even calling there was painful. Dialing that phone number, like she had so many times before to talk to Zach, speaking to his father, the old ideas of one day them being her in-laws—it was too much. She really hoped and prayed they were okay, though. They deserved better than to wonder where their son was, or if he was alive or . . . “Dead,” she said without meaning to.
The air was cool, but not uncomfortable. She knew the way home. It would take a good forty minutes to get there. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed home, feeling a bit of a goon for needing Daddy to come to the rescue. The line rang and rang. Eventually, the machine kicked in.
“Great,” she said. “Where are you guys?”
She hung up.
Rick lived in the suburbs like she did and, from what she knew, the streets were safe. Very seldom did anything happen.
Just got to stop thinking about Zach. Think about something else, like school tomorrow. “Okay, so not meant that last part.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Stupid Parker. Hope he’s having a good time.”
12
“I can’t believe how awesome this is!” Zach said as he and Cassie flew through the air.
“I know. So awesome. Nothing up here but us and, well, sometimes other vamps but, you know, whatever. It’s just a chance to relax. Could never do this in the old life.”
“Duh.” Zach had to admit, he was really enjoying himself. Who wouldn’t? Right now, he was thankful he didn’t remember anything from his old life. He was even thankful for what he’d become, except: “I’m thirsty, Cassie. Real bad. Mouth is dry. And . . .” How could he explain it? Just say it even if it sounds stupid. If she’s like you, she might understand. “I feel this kind of dark thing within me. This anger. I have this mental picture of my thirst, and it’s black and it carries those feelings with it. I think about something else, and those feelings are gone though I’m still thirsty.”
“I know what you mean,” she said. She flew over him and came down on his other side. “You haven’t fed yet. It’s the only downside to being one of us. Well, not really a downside because once you’ve fed for the first time, you want to be thirsty all the time just so you could do it again.”
“What do we eat?”
“Drink. Blood. Human blood.”
“Blech. No thanks.”
“Trust me, it’s good stuff. Real good. And it’s not even the taste that’s good about it, though that’s really awesome, too. So yummy.” She floated in closer. “Can I tell you something?”
“About blood?”
She chuckled. “No, about the feeling.”
“Um, okay.”
She gave him a sly grin. “It’s like having an orgasm.”
He wrinkled his face. “I so don’t want to hear this.”
“No, you do.”
“No, I don’t.”
He adjusted his flight path so he was further away.
Cassie flew in close to him again. “Just hear me out because it’s actually important. Sorta. It is like having an orgasm, but full-body, and not even that—though that’s super awesome wicked—but it’s like that ultra intense kind, the one that hurts but feels amazing at the same time.”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“As if.”
“Okay, I do, but not in the way you think.”
“As if I don’t know what you’re talking about. Anyway, it’s like th
e kind where you build up to it, back off, build up to it, back off—and eventually you explode. But imagine that for not just, like, six or seven seconds, but for as long as you feed. Totally euphoric.”
“Thanks for the sex class, Sis.”
“I’m serious. Besides, you need the blood” —she flew in right up to him again— “if you want to live.” Cassie banked to the left and descended into the clouds below. She disappeared from sight.
Zach stopped and hovered in the air. The thirst was getting to him. The darkness was growing. “I’m going to hate this,” he said and dove down in Cassie’s direction.
When he emerged beneath the clouds, he found Mira waiting for him.
“Where’s Cassie?” he asked.
“I sent her away. Your first feed belongs to me.”
13
Marcus ran through the woods. “Shelly?” he whispered as loud as he could, doing his best not to attract attention to himself, but if he knew the vampires for what they were, they were probably hunting him even now.
Swords drawn, ready to strike down anything that came into his path, he scanned in between the trees and above the bushes for his wife. She had to be here. The patch of trees lining the river would be at an end soon. Unless . . . unless she was the other way.
Can only do one thing at a time, he thought.
He burst through a thicket of bushes and skidded to a halt. A row of a half dozen vampires stood before him, three male, three female, all seeming to have been in their late thirties when they were turned.
The row of the undead eyed him coolly, each gaze like ice, penetrating into his own.
Clear your mind. Don’t let them read—
“We know who you are, Marcus, Slayer Twenty-one,” the center male said. He wore a snug blue T-shirt, black pants, icy-blond spiked hair, and a studded leather band around his neck.
“Let’s cut him open and bleed him dry,” the female standing next to the center male said.
“In due time, my dear, but I think he’s here looking for his wife.”
Shelly . . .
“Yes, ‘Shelly,’ your darling partner, your soul mate.”
Marcus took a step forward, swords at the ready.
The vampire in the center merely held his gaze.
Show her to me, Marcus thought, knowing full well his mind was being read.
“And if I don’t?”
“I’ll gut you and your friends.”
The man with spiked hair glanced side-to-side. “You’re outnumbered. Why, even now we could be on you faster than you could move your blade.”
“Don’t count on it. Now, give me my wife!”
To his comrades, the spiky-haired vampire said, “You heard him. Stand aside.”
The six vampires parted down the middle, three to each side, revealing Shelly behind them, gagged, blindfolded and bound to a tree.
They knew one person wouldn’t be enough to satisfy them. That’s why they lured me here. If I wasn’t here, they might eliminate each other in a feeding frenzy.
“No need to explain it to us, Marcus,” a pale-skinned woman with pitch black hair said.
“Shelly?” Marcus asked.
She muffled a response.
Marcus sized up his targets, calculating his next move. This wasn’t the time for debate as negotiations with vampires rarely yielded any ground. He had to act swiftly, but also had to be ready for them to pounce on him as well.
He needed a distraction. If you release her, I will look the other way for the next six nights, one for each of you. You will be free to roam as you see fit. Knowing his mind was being read, his thoughts considered, he lunged forward, throwing his blades out to either side, penetrating the hearts of the nearest two vampires to his left and right. They both shrieked and their bodies exploded in a cloud of fleshy ash that lingered on the air a moment before disappearing altogether.
He hook kicked the next in line on his right, sending the girl back and buying himself a couple precious seconds. Immediately the three remaining undead disappeared from sight and materialized around him, their bodies a scant inch or two from his. He head-butted the spiky-haired man in front of him, back kicked the one he hook kicked to the head because she was already moving toward him, then kicked off the undead man to his side, giving himself some room. The undead man ran at him. Marcus shot out his sword and penetrated the man’s chest, killing him instantly. The body disintegrated.
The spiky-haired vampire and a girl with brown hair in ringlets and the one with black hair remained. The brunette hissed at him. He swung out a hook punch. She dodged, grabbed his arm and threw him to the ground with such force the impact put him in a momentary daze. Marcus rolled onto his back just as the girl pounced on him.
“Hold still!” she shrieked.
Shelly muffled somewhere behind the blond, spiky-haired vampire.
Marcus snapped out his fist and punched the girl in the chest. She rocked back a moment and when she rocked forward again, he already had the garlic steam grenade in his hand. Her mouth wide, she went for his neck. He shoved the grenade in her mouth as far as he could and pulled the pin. She shrieked, garlic-scented steam pouring out the sides of her lips as the skin on her head began to sizzle like bacon in a pan. Marcus pushed her off him and came face-to-face with the one with black hair. Immediately, he sent his sword through her heart. She burst into ash. A second later, he was arrested around the throat by the blond vampire. If the undead pressed any harder, his neck would snap, but he knew the vampire would keep him alive to make his blood all the more sweeter. The pressure on his neck so intense, he dropped his swords and grabbed the vampire’s wrists so he could wrestle himself free. Hurled into the woods, Marcus broke his fall by twisting to the side and landing on a bush.
He flailed his arms and legs as they tried to find purchase against the thin branches.
The blond-haired vampire roared, his face now distorted into a twisted visage of displaced bone and muscle. Bright white fangs protruded prominently from the devil’s mouth. Swords now on the ground behind the blond, Marcus put up his fists. The vampire charged him, disappearing from several feet away and materializing with his arms around Marcus’s waist. In an instant, his feet left the ground and the vampire took to the air, flying Marcus between the trees and to the river beyond.
Wind gathering around him, Marcus called for Shelly, then the icy cold of the river struck his back then enveloped him completely.
The cold water shocking his every muscle, Marcus did his utmost to cling to the vampire despite the undead’s efforts to let go and retreat to the surface.
In his head, the deathly cold voice of the creature said: Tonight you pay for the suffering you’ve inflicted on us all these years.
Marcus decided not to respond despite all urges to. With his right arm he clung as tightly as he could to the vampire, while with the other reached for the knife strapped to his leg.
The water pressure pressed in upon his ears; a sharp pain grew in his head the further he went down.
Time was running out.
14
“We try and not disturb the humans as much as we can,” Mira said as she and Zach flew. “Your father will explain more at the appropriate time, but when it comes to feeding, you cannot do as you please. We have rules, both as a species and as a family. We try to keep our feeding operation as quiet as possible so as to not notify those who would rather see us dead.”
“Who’s that?” Zach said. He kept his eyes forward, not yet comfortable enough to look around too much while flying. Last time he tried looking at his mother when she spoke, he veered off course and bumped into her.
“They call themselves ‘slayers.’ We call them a nuisance. They view us as animals that need to be contained. What they fail to realize is that, unlike animals, we operate on even better mental faculties than they do. Our feeding is for our survival. However, like animals, we prey on others to survive. Humans don’t stop other animals from feeding upon each other. They only st
op humans ending the lives of humans. Likewise for us ending human lives. What you need to know, my son, is that what we do isn’t murder no more than a man killing a fatted calf so he can eat is murder. We live off their blood. In return, we do not slaughter all but instead bring them into our fold, as was the case with you, giving them power and immortality. It is a fair exchange, if you want my opinion.”
“And there is nothing else we can feed on?”
“Not in terms of survival, no. Yes, we can eat like the humans do. We even enjoy the same food humans do. But to survive, we need their blood. They can produce hemoglobin, we cannot. By ingesting their blood, we absorb what their blood carries and so survive.”
Zach wasn’t sure drinking blood was such a good idea, but after what Cassie said about how good it felt, he was fine with giving it a try. What guy wouldn’t?
“There, below,” Mira said and arced her flight downward.
Zach followed her lead and the two landed in a forested area alongside a river.
“It is here we sometimes come for our meal. You see, there are humans without homes who live here. By preying on them and removing any evidence of our involvement, it helps keep our feeding operation quiet. Because those dying are usually without family, even friends, their removal goes more often than not unnoticed and, as a result, slayers aren’t notified of their deaths through the various channels they are tuned in to.”
“Are you saying slayers are everywhere?”
“No, but they are aware regarding most facets of human society.”
“Are slayers human?”
“Yes.”
“Then why don’t you kill them?”
“Because, at present, they outnumber us significantly and have influence in the world of men that we do not. They are also immune to daylight, which we are not.”
Like before, when the sun hurt me, he thought.
