Harvest Of Evil

by William Lehman

  Virtually all monotheistic religions have stated that the Vampire is a 'Damned Creature', which is one of the downsides of the disease. Other downsides include the above listed vulnerabilities, a large risk of mental instability, and the risk of 'going Feral' if you don't feed often enough. Feral Vampires lose all higher mental functions, and it's a one way street. Lycanthropy and Vampirism's virus both seem to have several things in common. They are both a semi-metaphysical virus, one which attacks through normal and magical means. They both grant super-human powers at great risk of mental instability, possibly having to do with the magical part of the virus. Both virus are damaged by the presence of silver, and as once the virus takes over, it's the only thing keeping you alive, silver wounds are just as debilitating to either. Mastery in Vampirism seems to work in a similar way to Mastery in Lycanthropy: if you have the genetic potential for it, you may develop it in as little as fifty years for Vamps, six months for 'THROPE. If you don't have the potential, no amount of life span will change that. And finally, exposure to either will make you immune to the other.

  *****

  We parked the Durango in the B of A Tower parking lot, after a brief wave of the badge in the general direction of the parking attendant. I put the radio mike up on the dash, after calling dispatch to let them know that I was on duty and going to talk to the council, then we walked to the elevators. There was a security officer manning the post in front of the special elevator that went down to the basements, he was a human, not a Vampire. I had always been able to tell the difference, I'm not sure how, there is just a certain something that leaves no doubt in your mind. I showed him my ID, and told him that I was expected. He checked with someone on the phone, and said I could go right down.

  Then he looked at Mary and said, "Good evening Ms. Two Elks, always a pleasure." That caused me to give Mary a quirked eye brow on the way to the elevator, you know the look, the one that says "this isn't the time and place, but you owe me an explanation of that". There was an actual operator for the elevator, nothing too good for the princes of the undead I guess, though he doubled as security backup, based on the pistol he had concealed on his right hip. He said nothing for the brief ride down to the third basement. I did however note that there were more buttons under the one that he pressed. Humm….

  When the door opened we found ourselves looking at what for all the world was the reception area of a Fortune Five Hundred company. Complete with professional looking but ravishing secretary. She was a Vamp, in more ways than one. She looked up as we walked out of the elevator and gave me the sort of smile usually reserved for someone you're about to have mad passionate sex with, then she saw Mary. Suddenly the smile turned all professional business on me. OK, "this is getting curiouser and curiouser," I thought to myself. She pressed a button on the desk and said, "Good evening, you're expected, you can go right in."

  The only doors visible from where we stood were right beside the receptionist's desk, so I started walking toward them. These things were huge, I don't know what species of tree went into making them, but I'm guessing something in the gum family, there's very little else left on earth that you can get slabs of wood this big out of. They must have lowered these down the elevator shaft before the machinery was installed, or something, 'cause there was no way in hell they got them in the elevator. As I reached out to touch one, they came open by themselves. I was looking in on an ultra-modern board room, with a table you could have played tennis on, and I don't mean table tennis, no, I'm talking Wimbledon here. Seated at the head of the table was what may have been the second ugliest man I have ever seen. A short little sucker, with a scrunched up face, a nose the size of Mount Rainier, eyes the color of mud, an Armani suit, and black hair tied back in a queue. This must be Viggo Sorenson: Praetorian clan. He never allows pictures, now I understand why. On his right was a face that virtually everybody in Seattle would recognize: Guillermo, Castillos clan. The very model of a Spanish Don, he was 5'11", blond hair, green eyes, sneering mustachios, wearing chinos and an Eddy Bauer button up, he looked out of place. He should have been wearing hose and doublet, and fencing with an Englishman on the deck of a ship or on an island somewhere in the tropics. This guy made Fabio look like Don Rickels. He's been the 'front man' for the council for as long as they've been out of the crypt, and virtually every girl between eight and eighty dreams of finding him outside their window some dark stormy night. Standing behind him with a hand on his shoulder was a short petite girl in classic Spanish dress with a veil over her face. To the left of Viggo, just getting up was Jeremiah Hennessey, Lycan clan. Also a well-known face, though not as famous as Guillermo, or the female member of the council, Jeremiah is one of the first American Vampires. He was brought across in the early 1700's while visiting Philadelphia in between hunts. He had been a long hunter, a real 'Hawkeye' and still looked the part. Oh sure, he was in a suit, but he didn't look like it pleased him, he looked more like the jeans and flannel shirt type. In fact, he looked like a young Robert Redford, blondish brown hair, blue eyes, full beard, he was getting up and walking toward us with his hand outstretched. Across from where Jeremiah had been sitting was the ugliest man I had ever seen. Feododr Orshanski, Nosferatu clan. Another one that never allowed pictures, the only way I knew it was him was process of elimination. He was a short 5'4", greasy looking individual, Alan Rickman as Prof. Snape but with wet leprosy and much shorter. The last being in the room was also moving toward us, but it didn't look like she was planning on shaking hands. More like offering to let me drink champagne out of her stiletto-heeled-come-fuck-me boots before she screwed me to death. Ama-Katerina, Ephemeral clan. Makes Elvira look like a nun. Brown hair with red highlights, milky skin, a dancer and moves like she has no bones at all, ice blue eyes, five foot seven inches, small perky tits, she was wearing a hot pink leather suit, if you can call a jacket over nothing and a mini skirt a suit. Knows she's beautiful, expects to be worshiped. She was to every man from eight to eighty, what Guillermo was to the women of Seattle. And she was approaching me with sex in her eyes, Schwing! Then I caught a sniff of something I can't describe, and suddenly it was like someone had poured cold water on me.

  OH, yeah, I was a cop, these were, if not the bad guys, at least not on the side of the angels, and the girl on my right was my date for the night. And the only reason Katerina might be interested in me was not for my body, but for my badge, and my cooperation. This was when it occurred to me that Katerina was a projecting telempath, and she had been trying to play me. Thank Tyr for my furry nature, Vampire powers don't work well on us. A Master Vamp could mind-screw a beta 'Thrope, but not a Master 'Thrope, at least not for long. There was an exception, Lycan Vamps could usually control 'THROPE of the animal that is theirs to call. However the only Lycan in the room was Jeremiah, and his animal was bears, thank the gods.

  Katerina's step faltered ever so slightly, and a slight shiver went through her luscious-looking body. (Hey, even though I knew she was trying to play me, I had to admit, she was HOT.) She whirled on Mary, and suddenly she was all Vampire attack bitch, sultry vixen had left the building. She snarled out "Ne culturni CYKA," and the fangs came out, literally. Oh, shit, I hope to Hel Mary doesn't speak Russian. (I speak a little, and those were words I knew, the sort of words you pick up in the Teams to spit at your enemy. It pisses them off, and they make mistakes.)

  Mary looked at Katerina with a smile as I glanced over, and said, "Tpay'tboe Matb." Yep, Mary spoke Russian, damn. I wasn't sure what this was all about, but I had a good suspicion that at least part of it was because Katerina thought Mary had blown her spell. While a great cat fight, (and this had all of the makings of a TRULY LEGENDARY cat fight) can be damn entertaining, especially if you're the one they're fighting over, I just didn't have the time for this sort of shit right now. Besides, I might need Katerina's assent later on in the evening, and I would surely need Mary's help again before this case was over. If they killed each other, that could present a problem. So, I did one of the
bravest things I've ever done on US soil. I stepped in between them.

  I looked Katerina in the eye, and said, "Katerina dear, shut up for a second, and look into my eyes." Then I willed just my eyes to change to cat. I really didn't want to change anything else, I might still have other plans for the evening, and walking around Seattle, even the U District, or Queen Anne Hill, with a half change on would make people nervous. (OK, would make half of them freak right the fuck out. There, you happy?) The eyes I could pass off as contacts.

  Katerina whipped back for a second, and then forward just as fast. She glared over at Viggo and said with a heavy Russian accent, "I thought you said this cop was some sort of Park Ranger. Like Ranger Smith from Yogi Bear. Why the hell do we let FPI in here without warrant?" I knew she could talk without the whole Russian accent thing, I've heard her on TV. She must be really pissed. "And why we have to deal with this Cyka again?"

  By this time Jeremiah was up beside her, and grinning at both Mary and me through the beard. "Hi Mary, great to see you again." He had the sort of tone to his voice that implied that they knew each other well, REAL well. "John, a pleasure to meet you, I asked around, you're well thought of. You have a reputation as a good cop, and I talked to one of my Den that knew you back in the day. He says you're a good troop, as long as I don't really piss you off. I understand I wouldn't like you when you're angry."

  Shit, how many people know about this whole Baresark thing, anyway?! I looked at Jeremiah and gave him a sheepish grin. "I see some of my Team brothers have been talking out of turn. It's a pleasure to meet you, Jeremiah." I expanded my glance to include the rest of the council, "and the rest of you, as well." I looked back at Katerina and said in a respectful tone, "No, Milady, I am not with the FPI, in fact, they are off the case. No, I am not here to roust you, though I am not going to let you play me like a violin either. I just want to ask a couple of questions, and find out if some of your people are 'off the Reservation' so to speak." I realized I was with Mary and looked an apologetic glance in her direction. "I also want to know whether or not the perpetrators are actually your people. I have reason to suspect that they aren't. That there are non-council Vampires operating in the council's lands. As to why Mary is here, she insisted that she accompany me, and I knew of no reason to refuse. You can consider her under my protection, if you would like."

  At this point Mary chimed in, "John, I don't need your protection. The council and I have had dealings before. I am sure that we can come to some understanding," she looked over at Katerina, and continued, "Can't we Kat?"

  "She's under your protection, that is a laugh, I figured that you were under hers." Katerina again.

  Jeremiah pulled her aside, and whispered something in her ear that even I couldn't hear. She said "OH, I see. That puts a different light on it." She looked at me, and said, "Please, have a seat, both of you." Suddenly she was all business again. Damn, a man could get whiplash just watching this gal's mood swings.

  As we set down, Viggo gave a half nod in our general direction, and said, "Ms. Two Elks, Officer Fisher, it's our understanding that you wished to see us regarding the attempted break-in at the Federal building. The FPI were most forceful in their inquiries of our subjects on this matter. What more do you think that we can tell you?" His voice was completely at odds with his appearance. He had one of the most cultured, educated voices I have ever heard.

  "Don Sorenson, the FPI were not under my control at that time. They have since been relieved of all authority in this case, mainly due to the discriminatory attitudes of two of their officers. Please accept my apology for the abuse of authority that they have perpetrated upon your people. I have come to see if we can't find some mutual interest in this situation." See, I can sound like an educated negotiator too. "What do you know of a group of five Mesoamerican Vampires, all female, possibly of a special type known as Civatateo?"

  Viggo Sorenson stood and, with the sort of attitude you would have expected out of Don Corleone at a 'family' confab, said, "Well, first let me thank you for getting that particular individual out of my hair. For that alone, I owe you a small debt of honor. For bringing to my attention that there is a group of rogue Vampires working our city, we all owe you a larger debt of honor. Let me assure you that there are no Mesoamerican Vampires recognized by the council currently in our city. Guillermo would know more about the possibility of a different sect of Vampires from that region than I, and I will shortly yield the floor to him, but before I do, let me welcome you here, now and in the future. You now enjoy the same relationship with our family as does Ms. Two Elks. This is a small token of appreciation for the aforementioned services and the entertainment of watching my associate receive a certain adjustment of perspective. Guillermo, please give us the benefit of your greater experience in the Central and South American regions." Then he looked over at Guillermo with a small 'it's all yours' gesture of his right hand.

  Guillermo had a voice like Ricardo Montalbán at the height of his career. He looked at Viggo, then at me, and gave me his grade three smile, the one reserved for national network figures and Congress critters. "Officer Fisher, I have spent some considerable time in Central America, earlier in my life and have never met a Civatateo. I have heard of them, but until now I was sure that they were a myth. Are you sure that the females in question were not simply Mexican Vampires of more mundane persuasion?"

  "At this point," I said in dry, court testimony tones, "I am sure of nothing, other than that five females, apparently Homo Nocturnus, wearing jewelry that is nearly identical to that worn by a murder victim in an ongoing investigation, attempted to break in to the Federal building on Friday evening. Their initial DNA tests based on skin left at the scene of the attempted break-in showed Mesoamerican origin. I'll know more once the full DNA test results come back in a couple days, they left enough skin and blood samples on the doors when they attempted to rip them out of the foundations, for us to do a full profile. Oh, and I know from photographic evidence that the vampires in question look roughly like Praetorians or Nosferatu."

  Feododr Orshanski jumped up at this. "How dare you accuse my noble clan of this infamy! I should have you horse -whipped. If you were not so far beneath me I would challenge you, and were you not protected by the Badge, I would kill you as you stand before me, you shape-changing half-human filth." He was practically frothing at the mouth.

  At this outburst, everyone tried to talk at once (except Mary). I finally managed to be heard over the cacophony, "Mr. Orshanski, I accuse no one, I merely state that the Vampires that attempted to break in to the Federal building looked as if they might be Nosferatu, or Praetorian. If you will recall, I also said that I believed they were a new type of Vampire and not part of any of your clans."

  Feododr couldn't let it go. "So you lump us with the ugly, treacherous, Praetorians as if you can't tell the difference. I suppose 'we all look alike to you'. Well, moon-worshiper, the Nosferatu are the most noble race, the true race of Vampires, and as such are the natural masters of such as you. I know the whereabouts of every clan member of mine within five hundred miles, and none of us were anywhere near the Federal building last night. Not that I have to answer to food like you."

  Now I have had about enough of this, calling a 'Thrope 'food' was a mortal insult. Feododr may or may not have known it, but he just hit the one button that overrode the 'I'm on duty, and you're a suspect' button. Not answering this challenge was not possible, unless I wanted to have to fight for dominance with every 'Thrope I ran across, or unless I wanted to be everyone's meat. Part of being a Master was acting the part. If I rolled on this, I would eventually lose mastery. Either to death in a duel for dominance or to a withering of power. Don't ask me how it works, but it may be biochemical. Fortunately I'm not a pack type, or this sort of thing would be far more common. Even for a solitary predator there are occasional dominance issues though, and if I didn't deal with this now, soon (about Tuesday) some young entrepreneur cougar would decide that the old man of
the mountain couldn't hold on to his territory anymore, and here we go. I didn't think this through at the time though, I just snarled in full hunting cat mode. "Time and place, rotting one. Pick your weapons. If you were a cat, it would be simple, as nothing but tooth and claw would be appropriate for a challenge such as this. But with the pitiful weak teeth and claws on that rotting bag of skin you inhabit, you have no chance, so, choose what you will, and I will match you." I could feel the Baresark coming on from anger alone, and I was trying to fight it down. I wasn't trying too hard though.

  All of a sudden, I felt like I had been doused in ice water. From the reactions of those around me, they all felt it too. Except Viggo. As I gasped for breath, Viggo stood up, and placed a hand on Feododr. He slowly sat down, seemingly against his will, and Viggo spoke, his voice cold and clear. "This is all very amusing, and at some other time, I would like nothing better than to watch Officer Fisher, John if I may, tear you limb from limb. However, right now the Clans are under scrutiny, and we cannot afford such an entertainment, even though I have little doubt that a Master Lycanthrope cougar, with full Navy SEAL training," he paused and looked at me, changing his tone to casual conversation, "it was SEALs wasn't it John?" he paused and sniffed, "And a Baresark…?" He paused and looked at me again, "that is Baresark I smell isn't it?" He went back to cold disgusted mode. " As I was saying, that someone with these qualifications could tear your heart out is obvious, even to the ugly, treacherous Praetorian LEADER of the council, Feododr. And as you know I would like nothing better than to allow such a battle to take place. BUT NOW IS NOT THE TIME. For the good of the Clans I must explain to you, that you have offered our friend here a MORTAL insult. One that no Lycanthrope can ignore. To imply that such an individual is your food, is not such a thing as you can easily come back from, Feododr. John, I beg you to understand that this was not the voice of the council speaking, and that this unworthy member of the council spoke without knowledge or thought. We mean no disrespect to the FEDERAL Government." As he was saying this, Viggo seemed to be hitting a pressure point in Feododr's shoulder, jamming it further in with each syllable. "Or to you personally, or as the duly appointed Law Enforcement Officer of that Government. Feododr, explain yourself to our good friend."