The Blood Order (Fanghunters Book Two)

by Leo Romero

  "Watch the steps," a voice said to him as he was led deeper into the building they were now in. He almost stumbled on the first, but made his way down them one at a time, the rough hands gripping him aiding him along. They moved down another flight of stairs before stepping into a new chamber where everyone stood still. After a brief pause, he heard a ping before a scrape of doors sliding closed. Again that stomach dropping sensation as the elevator they were now in plunged downward.

  Vincent straightened his back while he waited for the outcome of this confrontation. Now, there was no fear left in his veins, only a sense of disdain, a disdain at such cowardly acts. A disdain for those that feel the need to hide in the shadows to perform their wicked acts.

  Pitiful creatures, he thought to himself, just as the elevator came to a halt. It pinged once more. The doors slid open and then came the inevitable shove out. He staggered into a new area, where he managed to remain upright and come to a halt. As he did, a sudden chill crawled across his skin. This new place felt like stepping into a crypt. An ancient crypt where angry spirits lingered and whispered to those foolish enough to venture into their domain. It had been so long since he'd entered such dominions that he'd forgotten what the sensation was like. But, now deep in the womb of blackness, he felt like a beacon of light in a dark cavern, like a hot coal thrown into the snow, a lion in amongst a den of hyenas.

  "Come on!" came that gruff voice and Vincent got moving. He walked amongst the evildoers with his shoulders spread, his back straight, ready for their game.

  He was pushed down onto a hard wooden chair, where his arms were forced back behind him and tied to the backrest. He groaned in pain. A second later and the bag was finally ripped from his head. He looked around, his eyes squinted. They didn't take long to adjust to the low-lit chamber, the overhead fluorescents burning dim, creating almost a cave-like ambiance. It was a vast chamber lined with massive panels of sun proof glass which looked out over the immense forest of skyscrapers that made up the Loop. That sense of coldness captured within the chamber was all around, all pervasive. It was like being trapped within a refrigerator. Everything had a blue tinge about it. Even the strange items dotted around him, the statues, the carvings, the devices. Déjà vu then began flooding his mind. He knew where he was.

  He looked up and around him. The thugs that brought him there were standing to attention either side of him, now with their balaclavas removed. They had mean, stern faces, tattoos creeping up their necks, some with tears carved into the skin beneath their stone cold eyes. These were mercenaries; men whose souls had long since been torn from their chests and the cases left behind sold to the highest bidder. The bidder, in this case, being the Blood Order; the enemy of humankind. Vincent shook his head at them. What fools, what fools they are for selling themselves and their brethren over to evil. He wondered why they didn't just jump off the top of the building and get it over with. The outcome was the same regardless.

  "Leave us," then came a deep, commanding voice from somewhere ahead of them all. Vincent's head whipped around. He was now faced with the dark, brooding figure sitting nonchalantly in the recliner opposite him. The figure he only just now noticed as if he'd previously melted into the surroundings like a chameleon. Vincent met the dark, saturnine eyes of his host; they glimmered like icicles. A mouth opened up and stalactite-like fangs gleamed even more profound.

  Vincent glanced back at the thugs to see them obey their orders. They turned and stomped back toward the elevator like programmed robots. The doors slid open, then closed. And Vincent was finally alone with his host.

  He faced him once more. "Leviah," he said with a nod. "If it was a meeting you desired, a simple phone call would have sufficed. There's really no need for the heavy-handedness, it's frightfully uncivilized."

  Leviah grinned. "I admire your ability to retain a sense of humor in such dire straits, Slayer."

  "Straits?" Vincent echoed. "Am I in some kind of danger?"

  Leviah gave him a solemn nod. "Indeed you are."

  "And for what reason, may I ask?"

  "I think you already know."

  "I'm afraid I don't quite follow, Leviah. There is a longstanding pact between us and yourselves, which I believe today's actions on your part have broken."

  "Oh, don't play coy, Slayer. It doesn't behoove you."

  Vincent turned his head to the side. "Behoove? My my, have you swallowed a thesaurus perchance?"

  Leviah interlocked his fingers. "I've been reading."

  Vincent's eyes widened in surprise. "Well, I never!"

  "I have a lot of time on my hands these days."

  "Oh, I see." Vincent looked around in an exaggerated manner. "And where is the delightful Veronica?"

  Leviah's face turned glum. "She left me."

  "Oh, that is a shame, I really quite liked her." Vincent looked off to the side as if he smelt something bad. "I have to say I love what you've done with the place," he said, noting all the exotic torture devices dotted around the room. "Quite a collection you've amassed since I was last here."

  Leviah slunk back in his seat. "It helps pass the time. I have plenty of it, and there's something quite satisfying listening to your kind squeal in pain."

  Vincent's top lip curled back in anger and revulsion. "I think you're in dire need of a spot of fresh air, Leviah," he suggested, facing him once more. "You've been stuck indoors for far too long. Either that or your breakup with Veronica has left you maladjusted."

  "You'd be best served keeping your notions on matters you know nothing of to yourself."

  A wicked grin spread across Vincent's cheeks. "Touched a nerve, have I?"

  "You've done no such thing." Leviah sat forward in his seat. He gave Vincent a dark stare. "Now, let's get back to business."

  "Business," Vincent echoed with a roll of his eyes. "Right." He huffed. "I'm still not sure what this business pertains. Maybe there has been some kind of misunderstanding. Perhaps you believe there's been some wrongdoing somewhere?"

  Leviah's top lip curled up, exposing his massive fangs. "Where's the relic?"

  Vincent frowned. "Relic? What relic?"

  Leviah sighed. "This can be as easy or as hard as you want it to be, Slayer. Personally, I'm at ease with either, but for your sake, I'd prefer the former over the latter."

  Vincent shook his head. "I'm sorry, I still don't follow you. What on earth is a relic? And why would I be interested in it?"

  Leviah slapped himself on the knees. "I need a drink," he declared, and rose from his seat. Vincent watched him; the tall, broad-shouldered creature draped in a red, velvet robe, which was open in a thin V, exposing his pale, chiseled chest. He picked up his glass of blood from a nearby table and drank deep. He closed his eyes as he savored the sensation. "This blood," he began, "was harvested from the veins of an eighteenth-century scholar by the name of Falconer. He was a quite brilliant mathematician, biologist, astrologer; a human of high intellect, a rare entity indeed. It's that very exceptionalism which gives his blood that inimitable palate. It's all about the blood, Slayer. Everything." He opened up his eyes again and laid them on his captive. "I wonder what kind of nose your blood has. No doubt vintage for sure."

  "Why don't you come and find out?" Vincent dared.

  Leviah let out an absent laugh. "All in good time, Slayer. It's taken centuries to arrive at this point. A few more minutes isn't going to hurt anyone."

  Vincent chuckled. "Well, I'd love to stay and party, but, unfortunately, I'm a busy man." His fake grin then drooped. "You see I have a home that needs repair and a fine servant I need to bury, since your lapdogs decided to gun him down in cold blood."

  Leviah raised his eyebrows in surprise. "So, he wasn't a holy one after all."

  Vincent took a deep, shuddering breath. "It appears not," he replied, his eyes watering, his voice loaded with chagrin.

  "And you had such high hopes for him, didn't you?"

  Vincent bit his lip. Tears slipped down his cheeks. From the grin o
n Leviah's face, he knew the cruel vampire was enjoying the spectacle. He wished he could wipe the tears away, but with his hands tied, he had no choice but to leave them on display.

  "Never mind," Leviah said, "I'm sure you'll find another victim to replace him soon enough."

  Vincent turned his head away.

  "Contrary to what you may be thinking, I take no pleasure in the boy's demise," Leviah informed him. "To be truthful, I've grown tired of the slaughter. It's nothing but tit-for-tat. If it's necessary, then so be it, but other than that, it's a fleeting pleasure."

  Leviah turned away and headed for the windows, glass in hand. Outside, the sun was a burned-orange dot, darkened by the tinted glass. He stopped and stared up at it; he winced but continued his stare regardless as if repulsed and intrigued at the same time. "I long to be freed from this prison of light," he stated. He had a small chuckle to himself. "Remember when I first had this tower constructed, Slayer? It was a symbol of victory. I genuinely thought I had won. Veronica was here by my side, you and the Holy Order were defeated." He spoke with a dreamy smile on his face. "I'd been truly convinced the prophecy was about to be fulfilled. The darkness would arrive at any moment." His head then dropped. "And yet still I wait." He turned and faced Vincent. "'Forge your empire, your order', the Mad Monk said to us all when we were children. Then, when you become powerful enough, the darkness will fall, and that's the moment to resurrect your father to his former glory. And then you'll be free of the light." He shrugged in an exaggerated fashion. "Well, where is it? I'm still waiting!"

  "You're the most powerful vampire in the world, Leviah. You don't even need your father."

  "How can you possibly say that when that thing still burns in the sky!" Leviah snapped, pointing back at the sun outside the window. "The Mad Monk said my father's return would destroy it!"

  "Maybe the prophecy is... a lie," Vincent ventured.

  Leviah's face contorted. "No. the Mad Monk could see. He had powers beyond the natural. The darkness is coming, just as he prophesized. The ice will freeze the seas; blood will run delectably cold. I can sense it."

  "You've thought that before, Leviah."

  Leviah grinned. "Ah, Slayer. It's coming, it's coming." He wagged a finger at Vincent as he spoke. "It's definitely coming. It has to. Plans are afoot."

  Vincent rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, I've heard it all before. What harebrained scheme is it this time? Nuke the sun? Please remind me what the last plan was? Oh yes, using commercial jets to spray particulate into the stratosphere to block out sunrays."

  Leviah shrugged. "It nearly worked."

  "Pah! All you did was make it rain even more!"

  Leviah's stare turned obsidian. "You won't be laughing when we win."

  "You've already won, Leviah. Your Order is the most powerful on earth. Be happy. Isn't that what you always wanted?"

  Leviah pursed his lips. "To be truthful, it's not all it's cracked up to be," he uttered, trudging back to his recliner. He slumped back down in his seat. "The nights are long, the days even longer. I'm surrounded by incompetence, which makes matters worse. Strictly between us; Sammy's a good guard, but he's not the full pack. Makes mistakes. And that's the problem with building an empire. You need workers, slaves, even companions. But as time passes, the slaves gain influence and power. They then become invested. And then, they begin calling some of the shots. Exactly what happened with Veronica." A glum expression fell on his face. "And what I fear has happened to my siblings. I put the word out to them long ago; the time has come. We all have enough power. Give in. Join me, bring the relics together so we can free ourselves of this burden. Maybe what the Mad Monk meant by the 'darkness' was our power, our stranglehold over the human species, and not a physical darkness as we'd previously assumed." He shook his head. "But, I've heard nothing from some of them. Instead, I've had to appease the lower downs in the various orders--upstarts and psychotics--just to keep them at bay. Those idiots will forever be stuck in war mode, while I'm ready to end it all. What irony. Alas, it becomes increasingly apparent that I have no choice but to go to war on all the other orders to achieve peace. So be it."

  Vincent watched Leviah rub his head as if a migraine was forming. Was he watching the slow demise of the world's most powerful vampire? It seemed almost surreal to think such a thing. Something was different about Leviah, that was true. The last time they met, Vincent was the broken one, and Leviah was the one on the rise. Were their roles about to be reversed?

  It was too early to tell. Vincent decided the best course of action was to wait and let events unfold.

  Leviah then lifted his head again. He took glances to the left and right. An embarrassed laugh escaped him. "Feast your eyes on all this stuff I've collected over the centuries, Slayer." He waved a hand across the air. "Junk. Trinkets. Entertainments garnered from every corner of this pitiful planet that serve to alleviate my suffering for mere seconds before I crave the next fixation." He slumped back in his recliner with a heavy sigh. "How fortunate humans are to only experience this universe for so brief an interlude," he said to the air ahead of him, his eyes glazed. "How blessed they are to be constrained by time. The spark of life engulfs them and in a flash it is mercifully extinguished, not allowing them time to reflect, to bask in the horror of interlude. Every waking moment for them is a ride; an adventure into the unknown where all that is known is the thread of life may be severed at any moment. In a mere instant, everything can become darkness. What a thrill it must be to acknowledge this as reality, what better motivator to enjoy every last waking moment? Yet they waste the gift bestowed to them; take it for granted. Treat every minute as if they are in infinite supply, unappreciative of just how precious their time truly is." He let out a hot sigh. "Why do you do it, Slayer?" he asked. "Why do you protect them? Fight for them? They're nothing but greedy, self-serving insects."

  "They're misguided," Vincent countered. "They've been led astray by you and your siblings for far, far too long."

  "Possibly, but it doesn't take much to sway them, does it? They willingly allow us to turn them against one another. I must admit, it is quite amusing to witness, if not tragic." He stared at Vincent with a smirk painted on his face.

  "You fear us. I know it, you know it. I sense the fear all around me. The whole building stinks of it."

  Leviah's mouth scrunched up into a tight ball, and his eyes burned with ire. "It is you who are in fear, Slayer. It is you who lives in secret, in denial, isolated, powerless. Look around you." He held his arms out to the sides and turned in a full circle. "Look what we have. Look what we've built. A megalopolis of order, of control, of structured chaos that my father would envy to oversee." He gave Vincent a contemptuous glare. "And what do you have? Faith? Pah, a pitiful human self-delusion. A delusion that we've used against you for centuries."

  Vincent's back straightened. "Yes, we have faith, Leviah, and alongside it we also have honor, love, kinship, we have an instinct for survival which usurps your own. And you know it. What do you have, you ask? Let me tell you. Lies, deceit, hatred. Self-hatred. Look at you. Confined to this building, skulking in the darkness, unable to experience the beauty of the light of day, unable to feel the warm rays of the sun on your skin. It'll destroy you in a blink of an eye. What's good always kills what's evil, Leviah. You cannot possibly enjoy the beauty of this world and in your fit of jealousy, you choose to destroy it."

  Rage began glimmering in Leviah's eyes.

  "No, it's not hate I feel for you," Vincent continued. "On the contrary; it's pity. I pity you and your kind, which is why I choose to put you out of you misery and end the misery you inflict upon us."

  Leviah nodded, his face contorted with hatred. "It is I who pity you, Slayer. You are the one at the mercy of me right now."

  Vincent held his chin up. "I don't fear death, Leviah. Unlike you. Go on, step out of this chamber. Open a window, I dare you. Let the good consume you, let the light cleanse you. Let the sun caress your skin."

  "Ho
ld your tongue!" Leviah hissed.

  "You perform your evil deeds because you have nowhere else to run. You're a cornered rat. Which is why you have to make progress with such baby steps. Such painfully slow steps to reach your goals."

  "And those steps are finally coming to fruition. As you will see in good time."

  Silence fell between them for a few moments.

  Leviah stepped back toward his chair. He slumped back into it. He lifted his glass up to his nose and gave it an absent sniff. "You know something, Slayer. This conversation has made me realize just how alike we are."

  "We're nothing alike!"

  "Oh, indeed we are, whether you accept it or not. We're both slaves to our own kind. We exist to serve. Do you have any idea what it's like to be a prisoner in this darkened chamber day after day, century after century?"

  Vincent met his stare. "Yes," he replied, his face like stone.

  "I know you do," Leviah said, pointing his glass toward him. He took a sip of blood and let out a small sigh. "I find the high life helps to cope. Good blood, fine clothes, comfort, luxury. I'm sure you understand."

  "I understand, Leviah. I understand how frustrating it must be for you to live in such deep anxiety and paranoia. You'll never have your world order. No matter how hard you try, the human spirit will overcome your long-decayed soul."

  "Fine words, Slayer, but they are hollow. Your brethren are already overcome, it is just a matter of slotting the final pieces in place. But, there's a small snag, a tiny obstacle and it is sitting in the chair opposite me. So, just tell me where the relic is." Leviah switched on his powerful stare. Vincent watched his dark eyes glow like firelights, the tiny mesmerizing glints encapsulated within them dancing on the air.

  Vincent's top lip curled up. "You know that doesn't work on me."

  Leviah switched off his eyes. "Ah, yes, I forget, you're a holy man aren't you? Tell me, what kind of holy man takes people under his wing, knowing that they'll eventually die?"