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Demon Vampire (The Redgold Series)

Page 45

by Virgil Allen Moore


  Malio relaxed, his hand off of Zack's chest. “That's enough. I can't have you bleed to death before I can collect it. That would just be bad timing on my part.”

  “That, was-” Zack clenched his heart, trying to relax.

  “Felt like dying, didn't it?” Malio smiled proudly. “Did you know that the vampeal I took it from actually used it to heighten the senses of his partners during sex? It's weird to think that all you have to do is create a simple preexisting injury and the entire experience changes drastically.”

  Zack coughed up some blood, it was thick, it wasn't from what Malio had done. This was from the person that stabbed him in the chest before he got there. Zack didn't know what it meant, but he did know that this was important. Zack casually looked around, trying not to draw any unnecessary attention from Malio. A small glimmer of silver caught his eye. It came from a large wall with several posters on it. There was a grouping of documents and pictures tied to each other in a large web. It appeared to be a time line of sorts. In the center, there was a large black and white sketch of a rose on the top of a coffin. With thick vines and thorns vesting the sides of it. Zack could plainly see a pair of silver glasses hanging, swaying from a small push pin anchored into the top of the picture. This was the sign he was looking for. It meant that whatever he was stabbed with that filled his lungs was not his own blood. Someone, anonymously was trying to help him. Salas had figured it out, but for some reason one of Malio's gifts was preventing him from making direct contact with Zack. Salas had to resort to simple hints instead of easily knocking Zack out. The glasses swung twice and then faded into a shadowy mist. Somehow Malio had stumbled upon the 'black rose' without realizing who Salas was. Zack actually knew something the bad guy didn't. Zack smiled.

  “And what's that for? You think you might survive this?” Malio was pissed. Malio shifted his weight and forcefully came down with his left fist onto Zack's right ankle. There was a crunching, crackling sound that let out.

  Zack screamed in pain. He knew this wasn't going to be easy, but he had to get Malio to bite him now. Zack had allowed enough time to decipher what Salas wanted to tell him, and let Malio convince himself that he was stronger than Zack. Now it was time to bring this fight into Zack's dream world. The plan was simple. Get Malio mad enough to bite Zack and not rip his head off before he did it.

  “Oh, I'm sorry.” Malio turned to Zack. “Did you want sum' more?” Malio asked with a fake British accent to add insult to graven injury.

  “Only if you've got fries with that.” Zack was attempting some keen wit and basically mocking Malio. It didn't have the desired effect.

  Malio broke both of Zack's legs above the knee with one violent strike of his left forearm. The comment had done the job. Malio was angry. “Now you're making fun of me, are you? Do I amuse you? Am I a clone? Do I look like a clown to you? I don't see any red shoes or an orange nose, do you? So do I look funny to you?”

  Malio's little speech actually did make Zack crack a smile. It was funny and Zack could really imagine Malio as a Victorian age clown with white make up and a big orange nose. Zack laughed, failing to keep a straight face. The pain was giving way to a sudden feeling of acceptance that was brewing in Zack. Knowing that somehow, no matter what happened, Zack would make it through this. Zack thought, either that, or the lack of blood was doing it.

  “You're enjoying this? Maybe we aren't so different. I wonder about our taste in women?” Malio stood up and turned to his desk.

  Zack was not amused now.

  “You wonder how a girl's leg feels like. I wonder how a girl's leg tastes. A certain girl, Kyli's leg perhaps?” Malio struck a chord with Zack. “I wonder. What if your girlfriend was everything she said she was, everything and more.” Malio had Zack's full attention. “What if? I wonder what might happen to the both of you if you found out something she was hiding. Something that in my research on you I found by coincidence. How would that affect you, how would that affect her?” Malio took in a deep breath and sighed. “If you found out she wasn't helping you because she liked you. Or sleeping with you for the same reason she-”

  Zack cut Malio off. “Shut up!”

  Malio opened his hand and the scalpel flew from it and into Zack's right shoulder. “Now, now, always interrupting. Weren't you taught any manners at all?”

  Zack was getting a little hazy, the blood loss was taking its tole.

  “I'm only talking hypothetically. Calm down, don't get your knickers in a twist. We have some time before you pass out and before I kill you.” Malio walked back over to Zack, sitting down on the floor next to Zack's right side. “You really don't know your friends until you see them through your enemies' eyes, do you Zack? Me, I'd like to think of this as a like-and-like exchange. I give you a little about the world around you and you, well, you give me your life. Fair trade, no?” Malio laughed out loud.

  Zack was getting dizzy. The room was starting to spin. Zack's head began to sway back and forth.

  “Don't worry Zack, the room's not spinning, it's you. It's always been you. That's why you're here. You have something I want, a gift like no other. The evolution of a gift more than three hundred years in the making. The power to see the plans of others as they make them.” Malio turned Zack's face towards his. He lowered his voice. “The power to shape nations, Zack. That is what I want from you. It's a shame I have to wait until tomorrow to actually kill you. But I can at least have a bite for now.” Malio whispered into Zack's left ear. “Don't worry Zack, you won't die from this. In fact, the lack of blood in your body should make this feel a little less painful. Same as the idea of having your skin pulled off at random, instead of having your entire skeleton ripped out as you watch.” Malio slid over to the other ear. “In short, you will feel every ounce I take from you, but you won't die.”

  Malio's right hand tore a path of malice across Zack's neck and chest. His blood spread high to the ceiling, pouring down over what was left of his shirt and jacket. Zack didn't have time to scream. There was a sigh, a slight moan, and Zack was pushed to the ground by the impact of Malio's body on his. The thud to the ground was enough to crack the steel grating underneath them. Zack exhaled his last breath, spurting drips of blood from his mouth as he felt Malio latch on to the right side of his neck. The sharp razor like teeth pierced his skin with ease. Zack didn't react, he lay there motionless as the blood left his veins. He was getting cold. As Zack saw the corner of Malio's face, his smile was the last sight before Zack while the world turned black.

  Zack had lost consciousness as Malio rendered the flesh from his body.

  Chapter 10

  Hell Is Envy Without Recognition

  On October 30th, 1598, a vampeal was born to a wealthy family in the mountains of Appennino, east of Florence Italy. His father was the reigning lord of Pennino. He was a long standing vampire that had ruled over the nearby village for the last two hundred years with little complaints. His name was Ifrin Signante. He was kind, just, and revered by the people as a good ruler. The townspeople held Ifrin's nightly secret with an honest trust. Each night, they gave blood willingly to him from each of their strongest sons. Together Ifrin and his kingdom existed in peace and harmony. He presided over the land, protecting it from invasion and would-be bandits that might wander in from time to time.

  Nearly a year before, in the neighboring region there were four other villages. Each one was smaller in size that Ifrin's. They lived in the mountain peaks with one vampire king a piece. They were known for being generous with their people, helping to even personally build shelters during winter for the sick. One day Ifrin heard that each of them had decided to conceive an heir in the same short period of time. It was a choice made by all of them as a way of looking to the future with new eyes. Ifrin understood this and followed suit, thinking that a son would be a good addition to his long life. Their intentions were meant well. The four surrounding kings found deserving women that they soon turned into their vampire brides. Ifrin did not. He did no
t want to spoil the life of the simple young woman he had fallen in love with. Ifrin wanted her to retain her humanity and still bare him a child. Nine months later, each of the five lord's brides gave birth. Three male vampires, one female vampire, and one male vampeal came into the world under these well established lords. From that day on, these children were to be the next generation. The ones to follow in the footsteps of their fathers. Their birthdays were in a quick succession to each other. Martin was born on the 26th as a full blooded vampire. Teresa the female vampire child was born on the 27th. Phillipe was born mid day on the 28th of the month. Timothy the youngest of the male vampires was born late in the night on the 29th. Then there was the last child to be born, the only vampeal. The one born of the simple human woman and the first vampire lord, Ifrin. At dusk on the 30th, as the light fled the sky, Malio was born.

  All of the vampire kings gathered at Ifrin's great hall to celebrate. The fathers of the three male vampires were very pleased with their children. The father of the single female vampire, was not as pleased, figuring he would have to teach her to be more aggressive if she was to rule in his stead. Finally, Ifrin announced that he would eventually lead his son through the ritual of Redgold in order to make him worthy of succeeding his throne. Thereby correcting his foolish attempt at preserving the life of his young bride. This act would be his way of atoning for his mistake in front of the other vampire kings. Ifrin felt a slight shame when revealing his motivations to the other kings. He would learn to regret his decision.

  Eight years passed, the children grew. Martin, the oldest of the group had grown faster than the rest. He stood four foot ten inches when the others were at the lower end of four feet. Martin was mature, and often the leader of the rag tag group of heirs that they had become. Martin had shoulder length dark brown hair with an already well shaped chin. He dressed in the same earth tones as all of them did that closely matched their varied skin tones. It was a measure to hide them from invading assassins that might want to kidnap them for ransom. Martin had bright green eyes, and a very calming nature to him. He believed in order and peace above all else. Teresa adored Martin. She viewed him as strong, tall, and reliable. She always hung on his shoulder. Teresa was the second tallest at four foot seven inches. Her long black hair reached down to her waist. Her face was round and petite. Her brown eyes warm and trusting, her skin was littered with small freckles, a trait directly gifted from her mother. Phillipe and Timothy were more like twins than neighboring princes. They emulated each other in almost everything. Phillipe copying Timothy's action one week, then switching the next. Both of them stood four foot three inches. Each with light blond short hair and blue eyes, with not one freckle among them. Their faces were tall and thin. Malio was different. He was the runt of the group. At only three foot nine, Malio was more than six inches shorter than Phillipe and Timothy. He quickly came to resent his height, and the group picked on him for it.

  The worst aggregate of the group was Teresa. She was deleterious towards Malio. Calling him 'Molly' as an insult to his very gender. She commented on how colorful and flagrant his wardrobe always was. Ifrin had decided that since Malio was only a vampeal, he didn't require the same protection the others princes and princess did. So he dressed Malio in full prince attire all the time. Deep purples and bright whites adorned Malio's garb, laced with patterns of gold flowers as trim on the cuffs and leggings. Teresa was the first to initiate the attack, but Phillipe and Timothy rarely missed a chance to chime in and bully Malio. Martin discouraged this behavior. He never openly picked on Malio, and on occasion, he would stop the rest from harassing Malio. Although he would just as often enjoy in a hearty laugh if the prank was well crafted and Malio overreacted to it. Each and every time Teresa would start on something about Malio, he would begin to rant and defend himself. Malio became paranoid, always believing that Teresa was planning the next prank from around a corner. One night it might be day old goat milk in his neatly made bed, the next might be a bucket of horse manure placed gingerly over his cracked open door. Either way, Malio dreaded life and blamed all of them equally for it.

  Four years later when they were all twelve, it was 1610. Martin, Teresa, Phillipe, and Timothy were all summoned to undergo martial training so they would be able to command the small amount of infantry each of their respective kingdoms had. Each of them accepted this charge with great pride, especially Teresa. She boasted that since she was taller than most of the others, she was a superior ruler. Malio was not slotted to go through the training. Ifrin was absolute in this. He stated that only a vampire can inherit his lands, not a half breed. Not even his son.

  At twelve years old, Malio was depressed. He had known the four others for his entire life. They had picked on and pressured him, making him feel horrid for being simply alive. Two days before the rest of them were to pack up, Malio sat on the balcony of his tower loft. The wind was bellowing, the sky swarming with clouds. The gray castle walls were emitting a cold chill that even Malio had come to despise.

  “They don't deserve to live.” Malio said as he stared at the four towers separated by the rolling hill side. “Over the next five years, they will learn how to protect, guide, and nurture their lands. They will become everything I will not. They have it all because they were literally born with it in their futures. Because of my father's choice in young women, I get to be left behind until the next solar eclipse.” Malio clenched his fists. Seething with anger and hatred for what he was, Malio pounded his hand into the stone ledge next to him. He split his hand open, but only managed to crack the stone and smear blood on it. He truly was powerless. If either of the others had lashed out in the same act of frustration, they would have shattered the block entirely. Malio was weak and he knew it.

  An envoy pulled up to Malio's castle. It was Martin, Teresa, Phillipe, and Timothy. They had come to say their goodbyes in person to Malio. A large horse drawn carriage had escorted them to the castle on Ifrin's request. Malio's father wanted all of them to part ways on good terms and not as the rivals he feared they had become.

  The four vampire heirs walked up the stairs to the main hall. They were dressed in their finest clothing. For once they actually resembled their titles. The boys with the same deep purple and white accents that Malio was so teased for when they were younger, fit them well. Teresa's long red gown made her into more of a queen than a princess, hinting at her already developed curves. Malio huffed as he turned and headed for the main hall to meet them. He was already dressed as a prince. In his mind, he was always a prince and all this was more of a joke. They would always be his rivals, his tormentors. Malio had decided that he would never accept them as friends, not even as equals. He felt that since he had upheld his sense of honor as a lord, that he was more deserving of his lands than they were. He agreed to meet them again, if only to spit on them for doing what they chose to during his childhood.

  The main hall housed a large banquet. Ifrin had gathered them under the muse of happiness and celebration. He wanted to see the other lord's heirs off in good faith so that they might be good rulers later. Ifrin wanted to evaluate them as they were. The hall had a long table more than thirty feet, ready for all of the castle staff. Malio's father was sitting at the far head. He appeared to be in his late forties with long dark brown hair and brown eyes. He was a man of average height sitting with decadence in his chair. There was a place set for Malio to his right. The human queen named Millia to his left. In her mid twenties, she was the youngest of the queens in the land. A fact that the other children reminded Malio of constantly. She was blond with very pale skin. She looked naive and youthful. Well endowed and buxom to boot, her dark blue eyes were cute and girlish. Malio despised her. She was what made him impure, the reason he was ever teased in the first place. In Malio's eyes, Millia was to blame as much as his real bullies.

  Martin sat with Teresa across from Malio. While Phillipe and Timothy sat nearest to Malio in that order. Several maids and servants from Ifrin's castle filled out t
he rest of the seats.

  Ifrin raised his glass. “A toast. To the future of all our lands. To the kings and queen of this night.”

  Malio was instantly infuriated. He sprang up to add to the toast out of anger. “And to the prince of this land, may he always remain so!” Malio's words were awkward and misunderstood. It sounded to the attendees that he was toasting himself and his personal reign. In reality, he was.

  Not truly knowing what to say, Ifrin cheered. “Ha zah! To a long life for all of us!”

  Everyone stood, extended their glasses high in the air, including Malio. This was the moment when they began to change. At this table the course of their lives would be curbed into a twisted tale that would end in a dark mansion hundreds of years later.

  Everyone sat back down except for Martin. “We have Malio to thank for this day and none other. Let us raise our glasses once more in his praise.” Martin's words were sincere and honest. He genuinely wanted to wish Malio a good life in the coming years. Hoping to abolish the memory of the crude pranks the rest of the heirs had played upon him. “You are truly the only real noble here.” Martin's words were unpopular at the table.

  Ifrin cleared his throat, trying to change the subject. He was obviously annoyed by the comment, but it did please Malio. He let it pass. “Now let us eat!”

  Martin relaxed and nodded to Malio.

  Malio did not receive the gesture kindly.

  Martin was trying to be the better man for the group. Malio saw it as bravado and scoffed. The kitchen staff served everyone and then took their place at the end of the long table. Everyone enjoyed the evening, filling their stomachs with pork, fish, veal, and bread.

 

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