“I'm not Cherry. This is one of her psychic dens. I have lived here with three others until last month.” The woman was studying Zack's skin, intensely examining it. “My name is Bethany Tulsan, I'm one of Cherry's staff psychics.”
“What happened to the rest of the staff that was living with you?” Zack dared to ask.
Bethany stopped staring at Zack's face. “They're all dead. For one reason or another, someone killed them off. I have no need to worry though, my death may be shrouded, but I won't die by poisoning like they did. I'll see it coming whatever it is.” Bethany was very sure of herself. She was very peculiar in her actions. The older woman was very exacting and creepy in all her motions.
“Which one, Marin? The heiress or the child?” Bethany spoke with disdain as she mentioned Zack. Alluding that he had no rite being there.
“The older one. She will be the baseline for tonight.” Marin took a single folding chair that was leaning up against the couch and opened it. The metal was cracked and worn off in places.
“Now miss, sit down and let us have a peek.” Bethany requested of Kyli.
Kyli followed her instructions promptly. She did not speak, only nodded her head and remained courteous in front of Marin. The mysterious woman removed a large white crystal necklace from around her neck, and began to swing it like a pendulum as Kyli watched. Zack thought it was some type of hypnosis. It was a way to have Bethany's subjects enter an instant dream state without waiting for them to fall unconscious.
With each undulation of the crystal, Kyli's eyes and posture slumped. She was getting tired, but not from any suggestive words uttered from Bethany herself.
The tenth swing concluded and the woman spoke. “Sleep vampeal.” Kyli's eyes were shut and her body lay limp, supported only by the chair. Zack flinched towards Kyli. Seeking to instinctively protect her from some unknown harm. Marin held him back, grasping Zack's arm, preventing him from moving forward. Marin's grip was iron.
“Tell me the land from which you birth, the river from which you derive your half vampire blood. Open your dream to me.” Bethany walked closer to Kyli.
There was silence. Bethany placed her right hand on Kyli's left shoulder.
Kyli spoke, softly, and without provocation under her breath. Her words were a shadow of their normal volume. “I will.”
With a sudden energy Bethany stood up straight. “Come with me, and wake her up, she'll want to see this.”
Zack questioningly looked at Marin for an answer to what was transpiring.
“Wait. Wasn't she supposed to hold her hand or channel her thoughts somehow? Isn't that how they work? What just happened?” Zack gawked at the commotion.
Marin didn't pay any attention to what Zack was blathering about. He followed Bethany into a back room.
Zack gave up and rushed in.
“Now wake her up.” Bethany instructed from the far room on the other side of the couch.
Zack roused Kyli with a light shake, helping her up and into the far room. Inside, it was full of painting supplies. Brushes, canvases, oil paint in small tubes, everything was in disarray. By the time Zack and Kyli walked in, Bethany was already at work. Her painting was surreal, it reminded Zack of a Van Gogh with its vibrant use of colors and blended, swirled edges.
“Watch carefully.” Marin whispered to Zack.
Eight minutes passed as the painting came to its completion. There was the lush forest Zack had traveled to. The ample scenery he remembered was represented in the artwork well. Every element was there, including Kyli's flowing river of blood. Even the diminutive creatures crawling in the leaves and slowly eating the forest were captured perfectly in the painting.
“This is the sign of a true vampeal. One that has not yet lost themselves in the biologic craving attributed to us all. Yet they are still consumed by it in their dreams.” Marin pointed to the painted river. “This decadent forest is proof of the bountiful humanity in her soul. It will change, but it will never vanish as long as she lives.” Marin's words were suggestive and cryptic. He was telling Zack something.
“What do you mean, Marin? You're beginning to sound as if being a vampeal is akin to being enlightened.” Zack's tongue was far too sharp for his own good.
“Or damned.” Bethany said while putting the last brush strokes on the painting.
Marin scuffed and sat down in a nearby wooden chair. “I'll be next.” Marin clearly wanted to prove something to Zack, to show him some hidden truth. A message Yugo had failed to fully represent in their last encounter.
Bethany set a new canvas on the easel and turned to Marin. “Then sleep vampire.” The motion was quicker with Marin. She didn't need to even touch him like she did with Kyli.
Zack had a feeling he had done this before with Bethany.
Marin lay with his head rolled slightly to his right shoulder.
Bethany spoke. “Show me the lake of your life, the blood of your tales.”
There was no answer from Marin as there was with Kyli. The woman fell limp as she stood in place. Bethany suddenly jerked upright and began to paint.
Zack stepped towards Marin, attempting to ascertain his condition. Kyli's hand held tight on Zack's arm, urging him to stay put and silent during this fragile moment. She didn't want him to touch Marin while he was sleeping.
“I am fine, Zack.” Marin's head righted itself in his words. Marin stood and watched the painting come to life as he did with Kyli's.
The paint was dull. The artist was mostly using grays instead of the vivid palate of greens and reds in the last painting. Another eight minutes passed and the nearly void, lifeless painting was complete. There was no forest, no river of blood. There was no color to speak of. It was muted, absent. The image was of a room with a single blank window. It was constructed of old, aged wood. The splintered floors and walls filled the edges of the canvas. Only a sturdy oak chair was in the middle of the room. Propped next to it was a small empty crystal drinking goblet. The same type used in Marin's concert. There was no blood and no lake to mention or comment on. This did not seem like the mind of any vampire or vampeal.
Zack wondered why Marin wanted to show this to him. If Marin wanted to show him that unique individuals existed even among vampires, it was a strange way to display it. Zack pondered as his heart picked up pace. He knew what was coming. The succession was leading to his likeness, his painting.
“And now the child.” Bethany said as she placed Marin's painting on the floor and replaced it with the final blank medium canvas.
“I'm not a child.” Zack defended himself.
“Sorry, baby then.” Bethany quickly batted.
“Hey! Don't belittle me.” Zack was producing a sense of self righteousness that was not normally there.
Marin was becoming annoyed.
Kyli was impressed, instantly.
Zack enjoyed the sharp, clear response. Zack smiled.
A cold, shriveled hand appeared and clasped at Zack's throat. Bethany had done it again as she surprised Zack and put him in his place. “Shut up infant. You are minuscule compared to him or I. Don't strut to strut where doing so is utter self destruction.” She released Zack and gestured to the chair Marin had sat in.
Zack was nervous. There was a fear of just what this psychic artist would reveal about him. Part of him didn't want to sit at all, and wanted to run away. Zack knew there was no forest in his dream world. There would be no painting of a river or of any lake. Zack remembered the vision he had in the amphitheater. There would be a vast ocean, a schism of blood unparalleled to any vampire the old woman had ever touched with a brush. Letting it happen would be difficult and risky. He couldn't run, not with Marin watching him. At the same time, Zack didn't want to expose himself in front of this newcomer. He was opposed to it, but something inside Zack urged him to take the seat confidently. It reassured him.
Bethany swung the pendulum. Zack felt his eyes draw heavy, then shut entirely. He was entranced.
“Sleep vampeal. Tell
me the land from which you birth, the river from which you derive your half vampire blood. Open your dream to me, child.”
Zack lost consciousness. He slumped into the chair. Suddenly, under his breath, he spoke. “Do your worst.” The words were not his own, they were inhuman, grumbled, demonic.
Kyli noticed a distinct smile as Zack finished the taunt. Kyli was worried for what the painter might find.
Bethany slowly touched Zack's hand with the tips of her fingers. She jolted, violently throwing herself into a collection of worn equipment behind her. Without warning, Bethany thrashed on the ground.
Kyli turned to Zack, who hadn't woken up yet. She knew how this was supposed to work. Zack should wake up the moment after the psychic was done witnessing his dream-scape. Kyli saw the smile persisting on Zack's lips. The brief window into his world was holding open. Bethany was experiencing more than necessary, she was being held in Zack's realm without end.
“Stop it! Zack! You're hurting her!” Kyli shouted out, grabbing Zack by the shoulders, shaking him.
Zack was still smiling. He was out, completely unaware of the situation. This smile was wrong, it felt cruel, unlike Zack. Kyli focused on his lips, perched taught, thin, and actively smiling while this woman lay convulsing on the floor.
“No, he's not.” Zack abruptly fell out of the chair and to the side.
Bethany stopped trembling.
“Zack what did you do? Snap out of it!” Kyli tapped the side of Zack's face with the open palm of her hand, trying to wake him. His eyes opened, the smile vanished.
Bethany shot up to her feet with incredible speed. She was ephemeral, feverishly painting with many tones of red and black.
Marin watched, silently ushering Zack and Kyli to patiently do the same. Kyli helped Zack to his feet. Zack's eyes slowly re-tuned themselves to see what Bethany was painting. There was no majestic river, no crimson lake. There was color, endless hues of red and black. This was no dream in the sense of the word, no image of humanity. It was different. This was visceral, raw, evil. A young man's silhouette stood before an endless horizon of blood. The shore was clearly receding to the literal smile embedded in the sea, utterly dwarfing the child before it. The painting was fiendishly grinning at the viewer, the ocean of blood knew it was being scrutinized. There was a personality that was aware of the intrusion. The contents of the painting was a message in itself.
“Study it carefully, Zack. This is the demon imprisoned in your mind, in your body.” Marin stepped next to Zack with his hand forcibly pressing on the back of his head, making Zack stare at the face in the rendered canvas. At the face in the blood ocean.
Kyli rushed to Zack, trying to make Marin let go of him.
Bethany flashed before Kyli, preventing her from assisting Zack. “No! You can't do anything! He's an abomination! He must be killed! Hung during the next solar eclipse and burned in its wake! He must not be allowed to live!”
Bethany went to strike at Zack only to be met by Marin's left arm. An action quickly followed by his other hand burying itself into her throat. Marin's hand was pushing deep into the woman's neck, blood was beginning to ooze down her dress. Bethany's hands were preventing Marin from an actual decapitation, but she was losing the battle.
“What the hell are you doing Marin!?” Kyli screamed. “My father will have you extricated for this! Let her go! She has nothing to do with this. Please, don't kill her!” Kyli was pleading with Marin for Bethany's life. Kyli's eyes were welling up with tears.
Marin's blank expression held, unrelenting, as he continued to choke Bethany.
Bethany attempted to speak, her words garbled by the blood filling her lungs. All she could do was stare desperately at Marin and Kyli for some chance of repentance. Zack saw the fleeting hope disappearing from her body as her steady resistance to Marin's crushing hand on her voice box was depleting. Blood splattered on the floor, collecting between their feet.
“Your fate was decided before tonight. Of the dead to be counted tomorrow morning, his name will not be mentioned.” Marin pushed, there was no exception in his stance, just a noticeable change in the depth in his fingers. Most of his hand was past the skin and halfway to his wrist. “He will not be burned, cut, or bleed this night. His fate is under contract.” Marin pushed again, the woman's eyes were uncontrollably shutting. She was about to pass out. “You were meant to merely confirm a suspicion of mine and die.” Marin stopped. It seemed as if he had changed his mind, he was letting her go. His grip had relaxed.
It was enough for Bethany to take a single breath and say one muffled word. “Demon-” then she was silent.
Marin was fast, far faster than Zack had given him credit. Much stronger as well with a touch of smooth grace and an insurmountable wall of power. Bethany had not been muted by a repulse, not out of fear, or from any sense of mutual understanding to preserve Zack. Marin had with one definite action, cleaved Bethany's head from her shoulders with his bare hand. The force was enough to sink the departed flesh into the adjacent room, passing through the connecting wall. Marin did not so much as show a hint of effort. He had just committed a brutal murder and was as composed as ever.
Kyli fell down, distressed and crying.
Zack couldn't take his eyes off of Marin. The same hand that held his own neck less than an hour ago had torn a full vampire's head clean off. There was a new sense of fear brewing in Zack's heart. The speed in which Marin was capable of was unreal. The fact that he moved slow enough to even be seen was a curiosity to the world and those around him. Marin was a monster, in mind, in body, there was no doubt to Zack. It was an overpowering sensation, it gripped him. Zack stood, breathing uneasily. If these were the actions of a full vampire that chose to kill, Zack knew the rest of his life would be shortened by the knowledge of this very creature in front of him.
“Do not worry Zack.” Marin said calmly. His right hand covered in fresh blood, dripping to the floor. “I will not kill you tonight.”
Bethany's decapitated body lay, oozing blood on the tan shag carpet.
Zack didn't want to die. Any feeling of power he had recently obtained was moot before the spectacle that had transpired. As his aspirations of a happy high school life with Kyli were falling away, Zack heard someone call him.
The voice was low and growling. It was familiar, yet now not welcome. “The terror of mind this scene distills in you is trivial to the incontestable dominance I offer. If Marin is a monster before your eyes, causing you to shiver under his shoe. Then I will grant you the position of a god exalted in the heavens. As you are now, he is unstoppable, an impassable force that will soon end your life. To me, he is a drop of water in the rain. Easy enough to see, but unremarkable in the least. With no sway over the cloud that cast him out from above. I am the storm, the tempest in the nightmares of all who oppose us, that oppose you.”
Zack's mind was giving in. The lure it presented was too enticing not to consider.
The voice continued. “I ask only the blood of your enemies, and I will set aloft a bridge to your dreams pieced from their tattered corpses. Zack, I offer a stairway to heaven.”
Chapter 6
The Chance Meeting and The Initial Test
It was early 1970, Del had crossed into Russia. The years he spent abroad in other countries had given him nothing in the way of learning new foreign languages. He was smart for what he knew, but stubborn. Regardless, something as little as words wouldn't stop him. Del was determined to start a new life. He was still pleasantly groomed from his night with Maria. Looking at him, Del seemed human again, even his eyes weren't as bad to peer into on a dark night as they were before. It was Del's goal to remain clean and orderly until he reached Moscow. A capital that he could slip into and remain hidden.
The cold weather didn't bother Del. He seemed to move without much need of anything besides blood. He frequented bars, waiting for someone, female or male to hit on him. He would take them to their homes to end their lives. He didn't care if the people were
good or bad, it didn't matter to him. They were simply asking the wrong person out when they approached him. Every other night he would tear a new stranger's throat out in an attempt to cover the facts of their actual death. As a way to hide the blood loss, he always left them in the shower with the water running. Soon Moscow had a new serial killer in town. Del didn't mind, he was merely hungry.
Sightseeing was not one of Del's hobbies. He did notice the architecture was differing. Though, Del paid no greater attention to it as he slowly made his way into the heart of the city. Most of the buildings were entrenched in snow and all looked the same to him.
Three weeks had passed. Del was enjoying himself with up to four able bodies a night. He found himself in a high end night club at the capital. Considering the average body weight for woman in the city, he preferred gentleman callers for their increased supply of blood. Each night, he hung out by the bar, making himself available to any on-comers.
On a typical evening, Del was waiting for a large meal at a busy club. Del's tattered suit served him well as an attention getter. The club itself was slightly dilapidated. Its bar counters dull and chipped in places. The brown walls clearly hiding any lack of neglect. The dim lighting allowing everyone in the room to get face to face to see each other. Del remained at his perch, at the bar, standing by himself. The smell of cigarettes and alcohol smothered the air, something Del still wasn't used to. An hour had passed. No one approached Del or so much as checked him out. It was unusual for him. Most of the last few weeks there was always a European free-spirited young girl that was attracted to him from the moment he entered the room. It was the easy part for Del, a new skill he was easily mastering to keep a steady flow of blood. Tonight he was encountering unexpected resistance. Del was lonely and fed up.
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