Parasite ; Sleeper Cells ; Kingdoms of the Dead

by Ian Woodhead

  Jalim opened his eyes and saw the remaining ghouls lying in an untidy heap just under the hole that led into the chambers. The reason for their quiet demise stood behind the pile of bodies. “Hello,” he said, nodding at Dylar. “So, you came back?”

  The young vampire shook his head. “I never left. Why would I leave you, Jalim? You are all that I have left.”

  “You told me that the Swarmers were outside.”

  “Yes, just like I told you that I could not read the minds of these things. I lied about that as well. They were always going to betray you, I saw that as soon as I scanned their thoughts.” He shrugged. “I needed you to see that I am all that you have left as well, Jalim. You are proud and stubborn. This appeared to be my only way to prove that.”

  “Do you want to see where these tunnels lead, Dylar?” He held out his arm, nodding in approval as the young vampire hurried over to take the offered peace offering. “You are my First Son. I will not allow the Dragonshine Clan to be just me and you, my friend.” He looked down in disgust at the dead ghouls. “Perhaps we cannot turn the beast into our kind, Dylar. It matters not, we shall create them instead.”

  Chapter Ten

  He pulled his hand back, gritting his teeth and trying not to shriek out in agony. Damien wrapped his shaking hand around his wrist and brought the back of his other hand up to his face, moaning in anger at the deep burns running from his wrist all the way down each finger. The pain began to subside but the damage was in no hurry to heal.

  “You have got to be fucking kidding me,” moaned Damien, squinting in pain as he saw the dawn sun slowly eat away the shadows. “Just what am I going to do now?” Those burning rays has almost cooked him alive, they certainly made his hand look like he’d just dipped the flesh in strong acid. He knew that if he hadn’t dived under this pick-up truck, a stinking black puddle of slime, steaming away in the morning sun would have been the only thing left of his body.

  Just one shadow remained beyond the safety of the truck, beyond that though, only death awaited Damien. His intended destination, a narrow alley, was just a few metres from this truck. He gazed at the back of his hand again, noting, with relief that, the deep ugly burns did not look so bad, even so, there wasn’t a chance of him reaching that alley without the sun turning him into black slop.

  “You were a fool to go there,” he muttered. Despite her warnings, Damien had returned home, constantly on the look out for his vengeful sister. He’d found nobody there, although he’d found plenty of evidence of struggle and he’d found plenty of blood splats. Looking back, he found it strange to believe that the only sight that had really distressed him was the state of his bed. His newly enhanced senses had smelled his mother’s juices on the sheets. Some fucker had laid his own mum in his bed and it wasn’t his father.

  The dozens of posters that he’d plastered across his four bedroom walls should have given him the first clue. Damien had stood there, his hand pulling the quilt over the sheets with their offensive stains while he gazed at his leather-clad beauty above his bed. The Countess Angelina adorned many House of the Unholy posters. The head of her vampire sect ruled over her mythical land with impunity. The band had even teamed up with a major American comic company to chronicle Angelina’s blood-soaked life in paper and ink.

  Damien probably knew more about the vampire myth than anyone else in the town. He had still fled from that house though, despite knowing that if the morning sun’s rays caught him he’s probably end up melting.

  “That much is a certainty, he muttered, watching in fascination as the damaged flesh began to lose some of its rawness. His body had started to repair the injury but it would the process wouldn’t be instantaneous. Watching the meat heal reminded him of the minute hand on a clock face.

  He tilted his head back, trying to judge the distance between his trapped body and the promise of cool shade. It appeared to only be a few dozen metres. He’d be able to cover the distance within a few seconds, but even that short space of time was too long. That sun had almost boiled hand down to the bones after just a lightning quick exposure.

  His idiotic decisions had put him in this ridiculous predicament. Damien knew that he shouldn’t have gone he also should have stayed in that house when he realised the time. “You could have grabbed the sleeping bag from the cupboard and crashed on the carpet. Hell, you knew you were alone.”

  Even as the words left his lips, Damien knew that would have never happened. That house just stank of his most bitter enemy, his rival clan. His rational mind just couldn’t accept this division but Damien could not ignore his blood and these powerful new feelings that surged through his new body. Rationality just didn’t enter the equation anymore. “You have Swarmer blood running through your veins,” he muttered.

  Instead of going off on this fool’s errand, why the fuck had he not tried to seek out Eleanor? After all, that’s what she had told him to do. “Yeah,” he sighed. “You’re at the beck and call of your new mistress.”

  Was it the last bit of his rapidly shrinking human part of his mind refusing to bow down to the vampire’s sway? If that was the case then he might as well give up right now, because it wasn’t working. Hell, even thinking back to the erotic thoughts he had about Elsie made him feel like a guilty schoolboy. Fuck knows what the vampire would do to him if she found out about the girl on the embankment.

  Damien suddenly snatched his foot away from the edge of the edge of the truck, whimpering as the burning sun grazed across his boot heel. “Why am I even fighting this?” he cried. “I belong to her, I’m Eleanor’s property.”

  He whimpered again when something brushed past his feet. He leaned across and resisted the urge to break out in a fit of hysterical laughter at the sight of a black and white cat darting across the road and taking shelter under another car.

  “Yeah, that’s right, moggy. This is my spot and don’t you forget it.”

  He sighed, wishing that his owner could somehow find a way to recover her lost property without that hateful sun melting him like a tub of fucking ice cream. That was unlikely to happen, that woman and the rest of them were probably all asleep now. For some reason, Damien could shake the image of them all hanging upside down from the rafters in his aunt’s barn, like a bunch of giant bats.

  The cat lay down and fixed its bright green eyes on Damien. He guessed that the cat just couldn’t understand why a human had decided to lie in the cat’s favourite spot.

  “Why the glare, you ugly cat? I don’t want to be under here, you know. If I could get out from under here, I would do.” The animal didn’t seem that impressed with Damien’s apology. “Okay then, what would you do in my position?”

  Damien vaguely wondered if he was finally losing his mind. He returned the animal’s hostile gaze. “Not that there’s such a thing as a vampire cat. At least I don’t think so. Still, it probably wouldn’t bother you. I bet all that thick fur would keep your little body safe.”

  He blinked, wondering if he really was so stupid. He looked down his body. “It’s only your hands and face that you have to worry about, you fucking moron.” Damien gritted his teeth and called up all his reserves of bravery then pushed his foot very slowly out from the safety of the shade. He felt the heat immediately and although he imagined his foot bursting into flames, the flesh beneath the fabric stayed singe free.

  “Fuck me!” he gasped, bringing his leg back under the car. It might not have harmed his flesh but the action still felt like the bravest thing he’d ever done in his life. He looked at the truck’s muck spattered undercarriage, his heart beating so fast. Damien wanted to burst into tears, he knew he wouldn’t be able to do this, there was no chance. Even now, he could feel that huge yellow ball getting higher and higher, as each second passed, it oppressive weight made him feel like someone was placing heavy rocks on his body, one at a time.

  Damien then shrieked when he heard the one sound that he never hoped to hear. Someone had climbed into the cab and turned the ignition. The
engine roared into life. He had maybe three seconds before the vehicle moved away. That sun would turn his body into a pool of steaming goo exactly one second later. He grabbed the top of his jumper then used his legs to shuffle down, watching the fabric more up his face until it reached his eyes.

  With his vision now occluded, Damien couldn’t see the metalwork above him, not that it mattered. As soon as the truck moved, if he didn’t cover up the rest of his face, the sun would boil away his eyeballs anyway. Within his confined space, his managed to wriggle out of his leather jacket. Damien pulled it over his face, just as the truck began to move. His terror increased to extreme levels when he felt the hot rays warm up the leather. Damien struggled to his feet, yelping when he heard a distant voice shouting. The fear of someone running over to snatch the coat off his head was just too great to contain.

  He pelted across the road, not remembering where the alleyway was. Damien cleared the tarmac just before another car raced down the road. He heard its brakes screech and just knew they had stopped to investigate. “If it’s the police, I’m so fucked!” His body slammed into a stone wall, he lifted the jacket just a crack and saw what looked like the entrance to the alley. He ran over to it, sensing those deadly rays lessen as he ran between the two buildings.

  His eyes quickly adjusted to the gloom and he almost smiled at his lucky escape. Damien couldn’t yet break into a full smile due to the three pairs of heavy footfalls right behind him. His senses already heightened from the adrenalin calmly informed him that if they were here to assist, they would have shouted out by now. He stopped running and gingerly lifted up his jacket. Right by his side, he saw a boarded up door. Under the peeling black paint, there was two faded letters that could be a M and an A. Damien nodded to himself, finally working out where this alley led. He nipped into the alcove and pressed his body flat against the door. Right now, the morning sun wasn’t shining down here, he guessed that this alley would remain in darkness until this evening. He pulled the jacket from his head and waited.

  The pursuers slowed down before stopping, just before they reached where he hid. Damien didn’t know who they were, he was confident that they wasn’t the law though, that fact given away by the cloud of tobacco smoke drifting into view. He grinned when the sound of a cough reached his ears.

  “What the fuck was it?”

  Damien leaned further back and waited to see that the owner of that voice would move into view. She sounded like a young teenage, perhaps about sixteen. He grinned to himself, hoping that her beauty was more appealing than her rough sounding voice.”

  “I don’t know, probably a tramp of something. Come on, we’re going to be late for work.”

  He listened to the footsteps recede then peered around the corner, watching the male take the girl’s hand before stepping back out into the sunlight. He didn’t like how he felt right now. It seemed as though the tables had turned and now he was the one to run and hide.

  “Fuck them,” he muttered. “Fuck them all.” Damien turned and examined the ancient door. This used to be used by the market traders many years ago, before the council built the new extension. He still remembered he and a few of his mates trying to sneak in through this door when they were kids, convinced that mountains of goodies lay just beyond this door. They never did succeed. All the market traders used to stand here smoking away for the most of the day.

  Damien found to his surprise that the wood easily gave away when he pushed his hard fingernails into it. “Bloody hell! I have got stronger.” He noticed a few bricks lying around the door and concluded that he wasn’t the only one who had tried to get through. A large piece of splintered wood dropped to the floor as he thrust his nails deeper. It did seem strange that the council would leave this door unprotected. There were three padlocks down the side of the frame but he reckoned that anyone armed with a crowbar would be able to get them off.

  Another piece broke off. “It’ll be bricked up on the other side,” he muttered. “My luck can’t hold out for that long.” He crouched down, hooked his fingers under one of the loose boards, and pulled, almost shouting out at the sound of the nails pulling away. Dim yellow light shone out of the hole he’d made.

  “Oh, this is just awesome,” he chuckled, pushing his arm through the hole. Damien reached up and felt along the gap. His fingers closed over a bolt. Moving his fingers along, he found a large padlock. Damien wrapped his hand around it and pulled. The lock came off and dropped to the floor and the door slowly slid inward.

  Damien stepped inside and quietly closed the door shut and dragged a large table across the door to keep it closed. This place should be empty, it now opened just twice a week, thanks to the new shopping mall that some private company constructed across town a few years ago.

  That meant he had the place to himself, it wasn’t due to re-open for a couple more days, so he’d be able to at least rest here in peace until tonight. He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, gripping his leather tight. It took considerable willpower not to collapse onto the floor, curl up and go to sleep right here and now. Despite his confidence that the market was empty, he still needed to check it out, just in case the place had a caretaker or janitor’s office somewhere in the hall.

  Finding the room occupied would be a bonus too, he ran his tongue across his lips and smiled at the thought of having just one final drink before he slept through the day, he believed that fate owed that much at least.

  He wandered up the narrow corridor, heading towards a set of plastic curtains, a few metres away. Damien yawned. Perhaps, it might be better if he just laid down here, curled up against the wall. Why bother searching for food? If there was some sort of security in the market then, they were bound to spot his slumped body eventually. Damien slid down the wall, dropping his aching arms down. A tight smile played along his face when he noticed a old rusty hook screwed into the ceiling. “I ain’t no bat, though,” he whispered, allow his eyelids to drop.

  His body craved rest, every muscle ached. The traumatic change wrought through his system now demanded some down time to allow time to adapt but, his mind refused to comply. Damien drew in a short breath, feeling like he’d just been dropped into the ocean.

  Groaning, he lifted his eyelids and gazed in confusion at the thick translucent, plastic curtains. Decades of constant use had degraded the plastic, the scratches made it next to impossible to see what lay beyond.

  “What’s stopping me from sleeping?” he whispered, wondering why he was keeping his voice so low. This was just ridiculous, what the fuck did he have to fear now? He instinctively glanced at the ceiling, glad that there were no skylights in this part of the market. He reminded himself to avoid those when he did enter the main area.

  Something had prevented him from completely shutting down. Although his enhanced senses were still largely untested, Damien still trusted them to keep him safe, they hadn’t let him down so far.

  He ignored the protests from his aching body and quietly got back on his feet, not taking his eyes away from the plastic. Now that his mind was focused on imminent danger, whether it was real or imaginary, those senses that he now relied on went into overdrive.

  Every sight, sound and smell was checked, everything inspected with the utmost care, unwilling to discard anything that might pose a threat. He couldn’t work out what the hell was wrong with him until he took in a large breath. Damien sighed and chuckled. He caught the scent of a very familiar taint, the faint smell of slaughter. That’s what hadn’t allowed his senses to shut down.

  Damien hadn’t really noticed it, at least not on the surface. The smell of raw meat along with all the other smells floating through the market aisles had always been present every time he set foot inside.

  The hot deli stall had opened up right at the top of the market a few months ago. The smell of roasting chicken used to drive him wild although he remembered that the taste never matched the expectations. Elsie used to go crazy for the bakery located in the middle of the market. S
he really did have a liking for fresh-baked bread.

  He approached the curtains, keeping to the side. Even she, just like him, would appreciate the rich scent of fresh blood that got stronger the closer he got to the plastic barrier. He knew that the single row of butcher’s stalls was situated beside these curtains. That delightful smell did not come from any cow though, that much, he did know.

  His new vampire enhanced senses stopped him from bursting through those curtains. Even he didn’t need those to tell him that other members of his kinds had to be in the market. He flattened himself against the wall when his ears picked up the sound of footsteps dragging something heavy over the stone floor.

  Damien then felt the light touch of another mind grazing over his. He blanked his thoughts, purposely bringing up images of fog laden beaches and misty twilights, not wanting the vampire to latch onto anything specific.

  “Why have you stopped, Healiod?”

  The sudden appearance of such a loud noise caused Damien to start, he hadn’t been expecting to hear such a thunderous voice. He saw the blurred outline of two figures right outside the curtains.

  “I thought I felt someone else.”