The First Vampire

by Alicia Ryan

  Luc smiled. That was a great gimmick. It would keep people around even if the first matches were blowouts. Being a businessman himself, he had to appreciate great marketing. And tonight will be the wildcard match of all wildcard matches, he thought, beginning to relish the spectacle.

  “First, my son Viktor Solotnik will take on our guest from L.A., the underground champion from the City of Angels, Roderick, better known to his fans as El Toro!”

  Two vampires climbed up onto the edge of the ring. Viktor so plainly resembled Aleksander that Luc could have picked him out easily. Too bad his sister didn’t also share the family resemblance, Luc grumbled to himself. And too bad she was clearly the favorite. No father who cared for his son would put him in the ring, especially not if Memnon was the next opponent.

  Not that El Toro looked like an easy mark. He was dark-skinned, probably a mix of black and Hispanic, Luc thought, and stood almost as tall as Ash. He towered over Viktor and probably outweighed him by a hundred pounds. Being outweighed wouldn’t matter to an older, more powerful vampire, but Solotnik himself had only been turned several decades ago. He’d turned his children some time shortly after. There was no way they could be very powerful.

  As it turned out, though, the two were pretty evenly matched. Roderick was more powerful, but Viktor was quick and he had the support of the home crowd, which, in the end, made all the difference.

  The lack of weapons in the ring, Luc realized, was by design. The crowd had all the weapons. When Viktor looked like he could prevail, swords, knives, maces, and spears appeared from out of the crowd. Viktor was able to grab a sword tossed up by a spectator and take Roderick’s head off with it.

  Aleksander rushed into the ring to hold his son’s arm up in the air. “The winner!” he shouted. Viktor pulled his arm free and went to drink from one of the four bowls of blood. His father carried on. “Now, in just a few moments, you will see Viktor take on last week’s winner, Memnon!”

  The crowd cheered and heaved to and fro as the blood was once again mopped from the ring floor in anticipation of the next round. Viktor never left the ring, and when Memnon joined him, the noise from the crowd fell to a murmur.

  Aleksander rushed back to center stage. “Viktor versus Memnon!” he cried, arms flung open to indicate the two men in opposite corners.

  The room was now so jammed Luc could barely breathe, much less move. He forgot his claustrophobia, however, when the fight began in earnest.

  From the first, it was clear Viktor never had a chance. He let Memnon advance first, dodged his initial blow, and landed a hard kick across Memnon’s chest.

  It was plain to all, however, that Memnon was just toying with him. Luc knew he could fly or send Viktor skewering onto a spear with no more than a thought, but he never did any of those things. He just physically outmatched him. Where Viktor was quick, Memnon could be quicker. Where Viktor sought the element of surprise, Memnon was always a step ahead.

  The fight really went on longer than it should. Luc suspected this was solely because Memnon didn’t want to offend Aleksander by offing his son too easily.

  In the end, the result was as expected. Viktor lay pinned to the floor by Memnon’s superior strength, fangs bared and hissing, but losing blood from multiple wounds.

  From his kneeling position over Viktor’s body, Memnon met Aleksander’s gaze for a moment and Aleksander gave a quick nod.

  Memnon grabbed one of the long wooden stakes leaning against the ring, twirled it over his head and brought it back down through Viktor’s chest and into the solid surface of the ring floor.

  Aleksander waited for the cheers to die down and strode back into the ring, this time grabbing Memnon’s arm to hold aloft.

  “We have a new champion!” he boomed, to fang-filled cheers from the crowd. “Unless, of course, there is someone here who wants to challenge him for the honor?”

  Some laughter broke out among the crowd of young vampires. No one expected a challenge tonight.

  Aleksander made a show of looking around, and finally his gaze came to rest on a vampire standing near the spot Aleksander had been using as his vantage point during the matches.

  James! Luc couldn’t believe it.

  “Perhaps our winner from the first night’s rounds will try his luck!”

  The crowd roared its encouragement, but it didn’t escape Luc that Aleksander wasn’t asking.

  Without a sound, Ash floated down into the ring behind Solotnik and his new mascot. The crowd grew silent as Memnon turned around.

  For a moment, Solotnik was at a loss as to why the cheering had stopped. Then, he felt Memnon’s arm drop away and turned. When he saw Ash, his face split into an evil grin.

  “What an honor!” he sang out to the crowd. “Why don’t you tell them who you are? Some of them are young and know you only by name.” He tried to hand Ash the microphone.

  Ash Samson! came the reply, but not in the form of words. Ash broadcast it out to the mind of every single person in the crowd.

  Nice, Luc thought. The crowd was impressed, even if Memnon wasn’t. A hush descended, and Solotnik pulled back the microphone, his strange grin replaced by an enigmatic sneer.

  “You are challenging Memnon?” he asked, once more using the mic.

  Ash nodded. “I am.”

  CHAPTER 65

  Solotnik turned once more to the crowd. “Ash Samson to challenge Memnon!” he called out. Then he quickly exited the ring.

  Memnon moved to one corner, bare-chested and covered in blood. Ash removed his overcoat and shirt, throwing them over the rope.

  “Need a drink before we start, Ash?” Memnon taunted, nodding toward the bowl of blood in Ash’s corner. “I know it’s been a while since you’ve fed properly.”

  Ash smiled grimly. “Your concern is touching,” he replied, “but I don’t need a blood boost to defeat the likes of you.”

  He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck to one side and then the other, feeling his supernatural muscles leap to do his bidding. “Now,” he said, “did you come here to talk or did you come to fight?”

  There was no more discussion after that. They circled each other for a moment, and the crowd moved with them, waiting for the first blow. Ash soon tired of waiting and let one of his huge fists fly into Memnon’s face. Memnon wasn’t quick enough to dodge it, and he staggered back, blood pouring out of his mouth.

  His fangs shot down into view; he growled and launched himself at Ash, forcing him back into one of the posts at the edge of the ring. The stone slab snapped under their combined weight, and the crowd below scattered to get out of the way of the falling rock.

  Ash slid down the post, and Memnon took advantage of his improved position to rain blows down on his opponent’s face. For a moment, Ash couldn’t move.

  Then he reached up, just as Memnon was about to land another punch, and caught the moving fist, holding it suspended as Memnon struggled to complete the blow. The effort made muscles ripple in both their bodies, but Ash, even from his seated position, had the upper hand. He was simply the stronger of the two.

  With a mighty heave, he pushed Memnon back across the ring and rose to his feet.

  Memnon grabbed one of the remaining bowls of blood and took a long gulp.

  ***

  Luc started yelling when it was apparent Ash was just going to wait for him to finish. There was no way Ash could hear him over the rest of the crowd, but it made Luc feel a little better.

  Finally, Luc realized he could do more than yell. He reached down into his boot, but his hand found only empty air where his knife should have been. He looked down to confirm with his eyes what his fingers were telling him. Sure enough, the sheath was empty.

  A clatter of wood on stone drew his eyes back to the ring. Memnon had dropped the bowl and turned to Ash again, his eyes too bright. He began to circle, waiting for Ash to lose patience and swing.

  This time, Memnon knew it was coming. He dodged the heavy blow and landed a vicious upper
cut of his own.

  Even then, Ash recovered instantly and continued his assault, his superior strength evident as he unleashed blow after blow onto a stunned Memnon, driving him across the ring.

  “Kill him!” The cry went up from a few rows behind Luc. Not a sentimental crowd, they clearly favored only whomever looked to be the winner. Memnon fell to his knees, and the cry was picked up by the rest of the crowd.

  Ash stopped mid-swing and looked out into the sea of pale faces and blood-stained lips. Luc suddenly knew how they must appear to him—a mob of his own twisted, bloodthirsty offspring. He could see some part of Ash didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of a kill.

  Memnon could see it too, and he took advantage of Ash’s momentary distraction to sink his fangs deep into the flesh on Ash’s thigh.

  Ash yelled and stepped back in surprise.

  Even when he moved, Memnon didn’t let go. Blood began to pour down Ash’s leg and onto the floor. Memnon sucked harder.

  Ash reached down and clamped his hand around Memnon’s neck, squeezing his throat closed, forcing him to let go.

  Memnon’s eyes glittered brighter still.

  “You bit me,” Ash said in shock and disgust as he held him by the throat. He appeared impervious to the bubbling flow of blood down his leg.

  “You know the rules, Ash,” Memnon choked out. “There are no rules.”

  Ash threw him back across the ring. “You were a warrior once,” he called out. “Now you’re just a murderer.”

  Memnon swiped at the blood still shimmering on his lips and shook his head. “I play by the rules, Ash,” he sneered, “but I play to win.”

  “Rules?” Ash scoffed. “Whose rules? Whatever honor you had once, Memnon, you lost when you started kidnapping and poisoning other vampires.”

  Memnon growled and lunged for the wooden stake that still stood embedded in the floor of the ring, surrounded by Viktor’s dusty remains. He hurled it across the ring at Samson. Ash neatly sidestepped it, and it sailed out into the crowd, landing with a firm thunk in the chest of a spectator.

  “Shit,” the boy cried out as a dark stain appeared on his faded red tee shirt.

  Luc leaned forward to try to see if it had been a fatal wound. The boy was on the other side of the ring, but from the sudden hush and the boos from the crowd, Luc assumed it had been.

  An out of place movement on his side of the ring caught Luc’s eye. Aleksander had made his way down into the front row and was placing a short knife onto the edge of the ring floor.

  Memnon grabbed it and immediately sent it following after his first throw. Ash, still looking out into the crowd, jerked when the blade embedded itself in his back.

  He reached a long arm around to pull it out. He turned back to Memnon and held up the tiny blade. “This is what you call playing to win?” he asked contemptuously.

  Luc saw him stagger before he even finished the question.

  ***

  Ash looked at the knife and wiped his blood from it. The stain of some other fluid was visible underneath, and Ash turned a stunned face to Memnon.

  “Poison?” he asked, not really needing an answer. He could feel the unfamiliar heat suffusing his body. Combined with his loss of blood, he knew he didn’t have long.

  He heard Memnon laugh. “No rules, Ash!” he said, sounding far away. “You never were willing to do what it took to win. That’s why you were never made a Shield Bearer back then. It’s why you’re dying now.”

  Ash dropped to his knees, and Memnon grabbed another knife from the arena floor. He stalked over to Ash, raised one of his huge arms into the air, and ripped the blade through Ash’s forearm, splitting it from elbow to wrist.

  He dropped Ash’s arm and put the bowl he’d emptied earlier underneath the dripping flesh. “Now the power of your blood won’t be wasted,” Memnon hissed into his ear. “The poison will dissipate, and with your blood in his veins, Aleksander will be unstoppable.”

  Memnon’s words registered in Ash’s mind even as he knew he was dying, and it became clear to him that the massacre at Council House was just a stepping stone on the way to some much grander scheme. Memnon’s vision might be limited to getting revenge on Ash, but Ash was now certain this new Aleksander would not be so modest.

  He had to protect Ariana. And Luc. And the rest of the world. And so, for the first time in 3,000 years, Samson moved his lips in prayer.

  He prayed for forgiveness. He prayed for mercy. And he prayed for a second chance.

  CHAPTER 66

  Luc shook off the weight of the disbelief that hit him as he watched Ash’s body fall to the ring floor. Through the surging crowd, Luc started making his way over to James. Aleksander and Memnon were celebrating their victory. Luc could barely even see them anymore through the circle of vampires gathering to cheer their achievement, but he spied one of Aleksander’s lackeys carrying the precious bowl of blood out of the room.

  James hadn’t joined the crush, Luc noted, finally reaching him and grabbing his arm. “Hey, we’ve got to get out of here,” he said.

  James shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he replied, his voice strangely distant.

  Luc looked at him as if he were insane. “Why on earth not?”

  “There’s no Ash anymore,” James said as if that explained everything.

  Luc shrugged. “There’s no Toria anymore either,” he said, “and no Council House, and no Elders. So what? That means you have to stay here and get whacked too?”

  James’s eyes clouded. “So, it’s true then, what happened at Council House?”

  “Damn right,” Luc said. “Nothing left of them but a funny smell. So let’s go,” he said, stressing the last syllable.

  “Don’t you see?” James asked. “That means it’s just them.”

  “What are you talking about? Look,” Luc said, taking James’ arm and trying again to steer him in the direction of the door, “we have to go, now.”

  James shook his head. “I don’t think so. Memnon and Aleksander aren’t out to kill me. They never were. This was all about Ash. Now that he’s gone and they got what they were after, I’m just another vampire to them.”

  “And so you want to stay?” Luc asked, incredulous. “What, you think you have a career as a prize fighter?”

  James laughed. “Not exactly. But I’m a pretty useful guy to have around. I can be as useful to these guys as I was to you. And then I’ll know what they’re up to.”

  Realization finally dawned on Luc and he backed away. James was going to be a spy.

  “Check your email every now and then,” James said, smiling at the look of shock and newfound respect that had come over Luc’s face.

  Luc nodded and turned to go.

  “One thing,” he said, turning back. “Memnon can see what you see if he chooses to look, so you’ll have to be careful.”

  James looked confused.

  “He can tune other vampires in like TV stations,” Luc explained. “My advice—stay off his radar.”

  CHAPTER 67

  Nancy sat her petite form on the edge of the mattress. “Don’t try to get up.”

  Get up? Ariana thought. She couldn’t even open her eyes. Why was she so tired?

  “You’re pregnant,” Nancy explained.

  That got her attention and her eyes popped open. “Pregnant?” she squeaked. Ariana shook her head at the gray little woman who stood beside Ash’s giant burgundy bed. “You’re letting your imagination run away with you, Nancy.”

  “I don’t think so, dear,” she said. “I told you long ago there would be a price.”

  A price. A price. Oh god. A price long unpaid.

  “You cheated us, Delilah,” Nancy said, confirming Ariana’s worst fears. “You cheated Lilith. Did you really think the debt would never come due?”

  Now Ariana recognized the voice. She’d heard it before, younger and without the English accent, of course, but heard it she had.

  “It was you,” she whispered, staring up
at Nancy. She could see in her face the vestiges of the pretty young girl who had come to Delilah’s room so long ago

  Nancy smiled. “The one who brought you to Lilith? That’s right,” she confirmed. “I brought you into her home. I brought the blood of the goddess to you as she lay dying, and I watched you cheat her out of her birthright. Yes, that was me.”

  “Goddess,” Ariana choked. “Don’t you mean demon? Look what her blood has done to Ash,” she said, “to all of them.”

  “That was never Lilith’s intent,” Nancy argued. “You bungled that yourself.”

  “And now?” Ariana asked, sinking back into the pillows and fearing she already knew the answer.

  Nancy handed her a cup of tea, which Ariana drank greedily. Anything to give her strength.

  “Now,” Nancy answered when she was again holding the tiny porcelain cup, “you and the master have fulfilled the promise.”

  Again Ariana shook her head. “Nancy, I hate to break it to you, but the master and I haven’t fulfilled anything. I can’t have children. It’s impossible.”

  Nancy smiled gently at her and smoothed her hair the way she might a sick child. “After all you’ve seen, dear, do you still believe anything is impossible? Lilith has come to claim her bargain.”

  ***

  Luc cleared his throat. “I don’t mean to interrupt,” he said from the doorway, “but she’s at least half right.” He nodded toward Nancy, then came in and took a seat in a brocade-covered chair near the door. “I didn’t know how to tell you before, Ariana, but you’re what we call a breeder.”

  He waited, trying to gauge Ariana’s reaction.

  When it came, all she said was “That’s flattering,” her tone clearly indicating it wasn’t.

  Luc stiffened. “Hey, my mother was a breeder,” he said.

  Nancy turned to study Luc.

  “What are you talking about?” Ariana asked, pulling herself up on the bed.