Call of Blood: A Novel of The Unnatural Brethren

by Silvana G Sánchez

  Never in three hundred years would he have imagined contributing in the building of a Center for Hematologic Malignancies—that had been pure fun. His lawyer had chosen well, oblivious as he was to Ivan’s hematologic inclination.

  A set of metallic double doors lay at the end of the hallway.

  “This should be the way out…” Ivan pushed the doors open, “… or not.”

  Stone-cold, he stared at the black body bag stretched over the gurney before him. “Brilliant,” heaving a heavy sigh. “I found the morgue.”

  Ivan wheeled the gurney aside when his preternatural eyes captured the most interesting vision: A teenager’s body on a dissecting table, ready for a postmortem examination. Despite the sharp scent of death emanating from her, the girl seemed to sleep.

  Being the blood-sucking fiend that he was, death was no stranger to him. It bore many faces, some as young and appealing as this one. However, it was not the girl that drew his attention, but the tattoo on her wrist—an ancient creature, an all too familiar sigil.

  “The House of The Dragon,” he mused. “One of Jiao’s midbloods.” Jiao Long—the bloody bastard—cared little about his victims’ age. The younger the better they suited his pernicious palate.

  “I’m as dead as you…” he whispered to her. “But the devil I carry lusts for life and must be fed.”

  The morgue’s fluorescent lights buzzed and flickered. Stepping back, he stumbled as he bumped against another gurney. Between flashes of light and darkness, Ivan’s eyes captured the entire scene: Not one or two, but dozens of bodies filled the room.

  The lights came back. Ivan moved through the gurneys, horrified as the damned sigil appeared again and again. One body after another, The Dragon inked arms and wrists, necks and shoulders.

  Too many kills for one evening.

  Appalled, Ivan backed into a corner. It was then that he spotted the green line painted on the floor. He followed the path and found the door, and above it, the prodigious green sign of EXIT.

  “I should never have come here…” he muttered, holding the car keys tight in his hand. The hunger pulsed hard in him by now.

  The sight of a parking lot had never appealed to him more. In a pool of mercurial light was his red Ferrari 458 Spider. If only he could grab a quick bite before heading home...

  “Hand it over, man!” The sharp blade of a pocket-knife landed on his neck. “Gimme the wallet, the watch—gimme everything you’ve got!”

  The corner of Ivan’s lips curled in a malicious smile.

  “Oh, I’ll give you everything I’ve got…” he mused. “And more.” In a flash, he seized the thug’s wrist and pulled hard enough to grab his neck and raise him off the ground.

  “Wha—what the hell, man?!”

  Ivan cocked his head slightly to the left. “Are you a screamer? Hmmm… You don’t strike me as one.” He paused. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter.”

  In one quick move, he slammed his prey against the brick wall and plunged his fangs deep into his neck, ripping the carotid artery. Blood gushed in pulsing rounds that Ivan swallowed in a complete frenzy.

  When his victim reached the point of death, Ivan bit his thumb and sealed his bite marks with his ancestral blood. The sole contact of his unnatural blood with the wound erased all trace of his vampiric attack.

  He released the man from his fatal hold. The body slipped against the wall and landed hard on the pavement.

  Ivan turned, straightening his jacket’s lapels. He combed his hair with a quick pass of his fingers. Satisfied in his dark thirst, he smiled.

  “Hematologic Malignancies,” he said under his breath. “They don’t know the half of it.”

  Phillip

  In the darkness, it came. It pierced his dreams with an assassin’s malicious touch.

  The mournful onset of the melody delivered soundless despair. Sharp as a moonbeam, a voice appeared, and its brightness raised the somber notes to a level of profane beauty.

  O, let me forever weep:

  My eyes no more shall welcome sleep

  I'll hide me from the sight of day

  And sigh my soul away

  He's gone, his loss deplore

  And I shall never see him more.

  Slowly, the veil of darkness dissolved. A hearth’s alluring amber gleam flickered in the distance. Phillip followed the light, enjoying the growing warmth as he drew closer. Although he knew this to be a dream, the chiseled details of the chimney’s mantelpiece felt as real to his fingers as if he were awake.

  He was not alone. Concealed in the shadows, she stood. A quick shimmer outlined the beaded cuffs of her dress as her hands gathered over the skirt.

  “Night after night, always these mournful songs…” Phillip moved closer. “This pain of yours, I cannot bear it.”

  The music stopped. Deep blue eyes pierced the shadows with an inquisitive stare. The hearth’s gleam slowly died and darkness prevailed once more.

  The dream was over. It never went on beyond this point, no matter what Phillip did or said—a sudden pressure, cold and strong, seized his hand.

  “Find me…” she whispered in his ear. Her freezing breath landed on the nape of his neck. Shivers rippled down his back. Phillip jerked his arm fast and freed himself from the woman’s hold.

  Wake up, Phillip!

  “Find me!” The voice echoed in the room.

  Phillip opened his eyes.

  The clock on the night stand marked 9:23 PM. The flat-screened television mounted on the wall played videos with no volume. Before him, the bedroom’s balcony offered a breathtaking view of San Francisco Bay. The sky was clear and full of stars.

  Phillip sat on the bed. He dipped his fingers in his mane of ashen blond hair and gave it a good shake.

  What the hell happened?

  “I dozed off…” he mused. And why wouldn’t he? Phillip hadn’t had a decent day’s sleep in weeks.

  But if he had fallen asleep, then that meant another thing as well. Wincing, he turned to the bed. Soft curls of deep red hair framed the woman’s pale face… a hint of blue already touched her lips.

  As a rule, a vampire should never share a bed with his prey’s corpse—nor with any mortal, for that matter. But sleep deprivation has a funny way of kicking in when it’s least expected.

  Phillip’s nap had been far from peaceful. The same dream had haunted his sleep for the past month. It was because of that dream that he steered away from sleeping altogether.

  An invisible hand pressed his shoulder.

  “Find me, Phillip…” a voice whispered in his ear.

  He turned around so fast it made him dizzy, his heart pounding hard against his chest. He loomed over the bed, parting the woman’s hair from her face. She was dead. And unless the dead could speak, there was no way the voice had come from her.

  Great. Now I’m really losing it.

  Phillip had heard stories of blood drinkers stricken by insanity. It usually happened to the ancient ones, but his lack of sleep could well play a hand in an early onset of vampiric madness.

  He picked up his shirt from the dressing table and slid it on. As he fastened it, something in the mirror caught his eye… A woman stood behind him, dangerously close. She wore an oriental dress embroidered in gold with multicolored beads. He recognized the piercing gaze of her kohl-rimmed blue eyes. It was the woman in the dream—a striking beauty, for sure, but one so rare that it horrified him.

  “Who are you?” he asked, looking back.

  She was gone.

  Ivan & Phillip

  “I will hear no more of this.”

  “Don't leave!” On the verge of tears, she held my hands tight, all but falling to her knees. “Can't you see it, darling? We can be together, live the same life. All it takes is for you to share this Dark Blood with me.”

  In silence, I held Alisa’s gaze, horrified by her request. For twelve years, we had lived in harmony—or so I had thought. Misery, she had called our life together. Misery.

&n
bsp; A phrase, a melody, the single word in an advertisement… almost anything in the changing world reminded him of La Ville Lumière. And in those thoughts, entwined as a perennial weed in the garden of Ivan’s memories, she was always there—always, Alisa.

  Inescapable, the name echoed in the profound darkness of his soul. And his heart sunk deeper in it as he relived her deception, and those images cascaded before him without remedy.

  His preternatural mind played tricks on him, reliving old times with such vividness that sometimes he failed to distinguish them from reality.

  Down the rabbit hole, one more time.

  “Ivan?” Phillip’s blue eyes appeared before him. A couple of blinks snapped him out of the trance.

  Three hundred years deep in the Dark, Ivan had lived to see the world rise and fall. Enlightenment had led to revolution, revolution had led to industrial growth… The wheels of Time had spun delivering war upon war, and thereafter, long-desired periods of peace.

  This was the twenty-first century. San Francisco was his home now. The warmth of the dying day lingered in the breeze. Seagulls squawked in the distance as soft waves crashed against the pier’s pillars.

  In this peaceful coffee shop near The Embarcadero, Ivan had agreed to meet his fledgling. Apparently, Phillip had something to discuss and the matter could not wait another moment.

  Ivan folded the napkin and slipped it under his steaming cup of coffee. The drink was just for show, of course. It was a reminder of Paris, where he’d first become acquainted with the warm beverage… But nowadays, everything reminded him of Paris.

  “You were telling me of the hospital…” Phillip said. “You got lost on your way out?”

  “Indeed…” Ivan laughed under his breath. “I made a wrong turn and ended up in the freakin’ blood bank. Imagine that: Me, in a room full of buzzing refrigerators, surrounded by hundreds of prepackaged ready-to-go pints of blood.”

  Phillip hinted a smile. He reached for his glass of red wine and gave it a quick twirl—part of the mortal pretense. He then leaned back in the chair and raised his chin ever so slightly before speaking.

  Oh… Here comes the speech.

  “Personally, I prefer my drinks warm and lively,” Phillip said. “I don’t believe in the blood pack deal. It’s like the Undead’s version of a Kids’ Meal, you know?” raising his brow. “The entire concept is most unappealing to me.”

  “In all honesty, I don’t care much for it either…” Ivan said, wrinkling his nose. “On the other hand, the blood bank’s caretaker was a rather scrumptious fellow.”

  Phillip set aside the glass. “Did you…?”

  “Did I… what?” Say it, Phillip. It’s not a sin to call it by its name.

  “You know… Did you kill him?”

  “Of course I didn’t.” Ivan huffed. “What do you take me for, Phillip? Am I a beast incapable of mastering its own impulses?”

  “Whoa! I never said—”

  “I’ll tell you who’s a true beast. It’s that friend of yours, Jiao Long. What do you make of that?”

  “That’s hardly surprising coming from you, Ivan. You’ve never liked him.”

  “Is there anything worth liking about him?” Ivan scowled. “Do you know? On my way out of the hospital, I happened to stumble upon the morgue. You wouldn’t believe the number of victims Jiao claimed last night… Anyway, I got out of there and that was that.”

  “Was it?” Phillip mused.

  “I have no patience for these games…” Ivan dipped the spoon into the cup of coffee and stirred it with haste. “If you mean to say something, I suggest you come out and say it.”

  “I’m sorry, Ivan. But it’s just that lately, you’ve seemed somewhat off. You’re here with me, but your thoughts wander miles away… I’m worried, that’s all.” Phillip’s hand reached his with such warmth it could have melted Ivan’s cold heart—the heart of a killer. True concern glistened in his fledgling’s eyes.

  “I’m fine.” Ivan slipped his hand away.

  “Listen, I’ve been thinking… Maybe it’s time for me to come back home.”

  Home… The thought made Ivan’s heart skip a beat. Was this really happening?

  “Villa Belle Vedere has always been your home,” Ivan mused. “For years, I’ve asked you to consider moving back—what’s changed?”

  Phillip shrugged.

  “Why do I get the feeling there’s something more, something you’re not telling me?”

  “Ivan—”

  “I will find out… eventually.”

  “Fine.” Phillip sighed. “It’s my apartment… It’s haunted.”

  Ivan choked a laugh. How he’d managed not to burst into open laughter was beyond him.

  “Haunted?” Ivan relaxed in the chair. Covering his lips with his fingers, he narrowed his eyes, ready to read Phillip’s reaction to his following inquiry. “I wonder, what could possibly rattle the soul of the fierce killer sitting before me? Hmmm…”

  “Laugh all you want... I don’t know what it was, but it was enough for me to leave.” Phillip lowered his gaze. The votive candle’s amber light filled his eyes for a quick second. In his quiet detachment, Phillip was the most handsome creature in the room.

  Phillip Blackwell, you are a star.

  Ivan knew it from the first moment he’d laid eyes on him. The year was 1926. Phillip went by the name of Dorian Graham back then. As promising as he was in his endeavors as a law student, Phillip would have been better off becoming an actor. Ivan could well picture him in the Hollywood scene, flashing his charismatic smile at the camera lens. And he would have been a great success… had he not chosen to become a vampire instead.

  “I won’t laugh,” Ivan whispered. “Tell me all about it. Let me help you.”

  “I don’t know that you can help,” Phillip said.

  Oh, ye of little faith! Ivan wanted to say, but that would offend his fledgling’s pride. “Try me,” Ivan said, smirking at the end.

  Phillip jerked forward in his seat, turned away, and cleared his throat. “Ah… All right.” He paused. “It started about a month ago as I slept. In my dreams there was darkness—that’s when I heard it.”

  Ivan slid the cup of coffee away with the back of his hand. “What did you hear?”

  “A woman, singing,” he said. “As I reached the brink of consciousness, the music stopped, and a tearing scream woke me up.”

  “Not a pleasant way to start the evening,” Ivan mused.

  “When I opened my eyes, I sensed another presence in the room… I searched the entire place, and found nothing.”

  “Sounds like one hell of a nightmare.”

  “I thought so too, at first. So I pushed my worries to the back of my mind and almost forgot about the entire incident… until it happened again the next day.”

  “I see…”

  “It’s happened every single day since.” Phillip paused. “But tonight… everything changed.”

  “Changed, how?” Ivan hated to interrupt, but Phillip’s pesky habit of relying on long and meaningful silences gave him little choice. He had to instigate his fledgling, lest this story would extend for hours.

  “I saw her,” he said.

  “Phillip, it was a dream.”

  “I was awake when it happened. She spoke to me.”

  Ivan flinched, perplexed by Phillip’s account. “You saw her?” This was no ghost. “She spoke to you…” This was telepathic communication, the kind few immortals use—ancient and powerful ones. But why tell Phillip? His nerves already were rattled enough. “What did she want?”

  “Find me is what she said.” Phillip pursed his lips. “Listen, you know how I hold the highest respect for The Unknown. Whatever her problem is—or was—I want no part of it.

  “I’m not going back to that apartment. I couldn’t care less for the rotting corpse I left in my bed—”

  “You—what?” The sole thought was simply too appalling to entertain.

  “You heard me, Ivan. I’m not
going back!” Stern and upset, Phillip folded his arms over his chest and laid back in the chair.

  “I can’t believe you dragged me back here!” Phillip tossed his keys into the bowl by the entrance.

  “I’m sorry, Phillip. I usually don’t play the I-am-your-maker-do-as-I-ask card unless it’s really necessary,” Ivan said.

  Phillip peeked into his bedroom, and sure enough, there was his prey. The woman reeked of death. No mortal could have perceived the scent yet, but a vampire’s enhanced sense of smell could.

  “What were you thinking—leaving a corpse in your lair?” Ivan stood beside him. “Do you want to go to jail—or worse, do you want your face flashing on the television as America’s most wanted criminal?”

  “Something’s definitely wrong with your priorities…” Phillip scanned the bedroom with a quick glance before stepping inside.

  “I’ll take care of her.” Ivan pressed Phillip’s shoulder. “Why don’t you grab a few things to take back home?”

  “Sounds great.” Phillip opened the closet and pulled out a black gym bag which he unzipped with haste. He wouldn’t stay in here a minute longer than necessary.

  “I won’t be long.” Ivan wrapped the woman with the bedsheet and carried her over his shoulder. His maker then crossed the room’s threshold, which sprung the question into Phillip’s mind: How did Ivan intend to exit the building with a human corpse? Fortunately, that was no longer his problem.

  Phillip stood in the middle of the room. His gaze fixed on the dressing table’s mirror where he’d seen the woman before. Had he imagined it? Perhaps he truly was losing touch with reality.

  A heavy blow struck the wall. The sound came within the wall itself, like a powerful fist hammering through the concrete—there it was again. This time, louder and pounding all the way to where Phillip stood. The mirror’s reflection blurred with the vibration.

  Bam!

  Bam!

  Bam!

  The whole room began to shake. Portraits fell from the walls, their panes of glass smashing as they hit the floor. The mirror shook and hit the wall and cracked in half.