The Vampire Evolution Trilogy (Book 3): Blood of Gold

by Duncan McGeary

  There was a strange blackness filling the corner of the kitchen.

  The intruder was in the shadows, which should have meant that Kelton could see him clearly, since his night vision was now better than his day vision. But the shadows cut off the corner of the room as if it wasn’t there; as if nothing was there. Kelton could hear the man, but couldn’t see him.

  “Who are you?” he demanded.

  Your Maker. Again, the words came directly into his mind, the inner voice flat, not so high that it could be called high, not so low that it could be called low. It couldn’t be called anything––it existed somewhere in the middle of sound, consisting of tones that had never been heard before. Kelton didn’t think anything could scare him, especially in his new form, but this made him shiver and made his heart skip a beat.

  “Why are you here?”

  I am your Maker, the voice from the void said again. I have chosen you. The voice entered Kelton’s bones and churned their marrow.

  Kelton believed him… it… whatever the creature was. Should he thank him? “What… what do you want?”

  I want to help you to fulfill your desires. I want you to never stop. Nothing can stop you.

  “The sun…”

  After tonight, the sun will no longer bother you. My Darkness cannot feel the light.

  The shadows moved toward him, and Kelton caught a glimpse of something whipping out, reaching for him. Something heavy landed on him, something heavier than the world, and yet he stood unbowed. He felt a sharp pain in his throat, but this time the creature didn’t drain him; instead, it seemed to be pumping something into him, some of the cold and the darkness, and it felt familiar, like all the hate he’d ever felt, distilled and flowing eternally through his veins. Over and under the sensation, he heard the creature speaking into his mind.

  I have chosen you, as I have chosen your forebears for long millennia. I have chosen only the vampires with the strongest desire to kill and to consume. I have selected only those who understand that they are not humans Turned vampire, but something completely different, superior in every way to their fleshly origins. You are the culmination of a long line of Darkness.

  The shadow man was gone when Kelton woke up, but the cold and dark remained inside of him, as if he was now part of the shadow.

  Chapter 6

  The Testament of Michael just appeared one day, seemingly everywhere at once. The message spread through every social network and was mentioned on the major networks’ evening news broadcasts. It was talked about in the newspaper gossip columns and magazines. It may have been reported mostly with a wink and a smirk, but there were plenty of believers.

  The devastation of Crescent City was originally attributed to an unknown pathogen and the ensuing rioting to mass hysteria, but enough visual verification existed from video and cellphone recordings that infiltrated the Internet that the government was having a hard time explaining it all away. Then there was the eyewitness testimony, some of which was actually credible. The amount of evidence seemed too overwhelming for all of it to have been manufactured.

  Someone had found a cellphone on the street. The video footage on it showed a man running toward the camera faster than seemed humanly possible. As his face became clearer, you could see the fangs already covered in blood, the look of hunger in the creature’s eyes. There was something so believable about it that a screen grab from the footage––the last frame before it went dark––had become the signature image of the event. Sure, it could’ve been faked, but most people instinctively understood that this was what some poor soul had seen in his or her last moments.

  It was so evident that something unusual had happened that conspiracy theorists were taking the opposite tack than usual: that is, that so much evidence of vampires existing meant it must be fake, which, ironically, gave the stories more credibility than ever. Surveys showed that in addition to the usual twenty percent of the populace who will believe anything, another twenty percent thought vampires “likely,” and more than half thought them “possible.”

  Books about vampires shot to the top of the best-seller lists, and shows about vampires filled movie theaters and started a heavier-than-usual rotation on TV. Old movies and TV shows were resurrected and given new life, much like the vampires themselves.

  Coming on the heels of the news stories out of Crescent City, The Testament of Michael arrived as a validation of the reality of vampires.

  #

  “Listen to this.” Sylvie was reading aloud from her laptop. They were back home in Bend. Jamie, Sylvie and Terrill were sitting at the kitchen table, and early-morning sunlight was streaming through the windows. Terrill had almost winced when Sylvie had pulled back the curtains to flood the room with light. It was hard to get used to the fact that he and the other vampires with blood of gold could survive in the full light of day. Old habits died hard.

  “‘From Michael came Terrill, who defied Satan and refused to feed on the souls of the innocent. Terrill, who went to his doom without complaint, who became Human because of his love of Mankind. Terrill, who sacrificed himself yet again that he might fight the new threat of the Wilderings.

  “‘He was the first of the Blood of Gold. From him came a new race of beings, neither human nor vampire, but the best of both… ’”

  “Jesus,” Terrill breathed.

  “No, not Jesus. I think he’s calling you Terrill,” Jamie said, laughing. There was something in her eyes as she looked at him, though, that made it seem as if she was half serious.

  “And you’re telling me the author, this Marc, is someone you know?” Terrill asked.

  “If it is who I think it is, he’s a young man who helped me. He was a nice guy. I called him ‘Marc-with-a-c.’”

  “But how does Marc know all this stuff?” Terrill exclaimed. “Where’s he getting it from?”

  “God told him, obviously,” Jamie snorted.

  “Who’s next? Matthew, Luke and John?”

  “Hell if I know,” Jamie admitted. “To tell you the truth, he’s pretty convincing. I feel like I should fall to my knees before you, Master.”

  “Oh, shut up,” Terrill muttered.

  In all his long existence, he had never been as happy and content as he’d been since he and Sylvie had returned home from the disaster in Crescent City.

  Humans seemed to believe that everyone had a soul mate in life, if they could but find them, but Terrill had lived many lifetimes, and he had never felt like this.

  Sylvie was young, incredibly young compared to him, but she was wiser than he was. Her emotional response to the events and people around her was always kind and thoughtful and seemingly right. It was a knack he’d never learned.

  Now, as he watched her read the newspaper aloud, she seemed so alive, but so vulnerable. Several times during the Battle of Crescent City, he’d seen a Wildering target her, as if knowing how important and how defenseless she was. He hadn’t told her how many times she had almost been killed.

  It worried him. She was a human, frail and weak, and she was the lover of the vampire who was perhaps the most hunted of all vampires. And who now, apparently, had founded a new type of vampire and maybe a new religion.

  She’d be safer if she was Turned. Terrill had no doubt that Sylvie was ready for the golden blood, but he also sensed that she would reject the offer. She was too alive as a human, and it was by observing her grace and beauty that he continued to appreciate the differences between humans and vampires.

  Jamie and Robert had rented the house next door, and Clarkson had found an apartment down the street. They were lying low. So far, the only people who knew who they were and where they were hiding were managing to keep their mouths shut.

  Terrill wasn’t worried about Father Harry or his good friends Grime, Perry and Billy, but the word was out in the homeless community they were part of, and it was only a matter of time before someone decided there might be money in the story. Terrill wasn’t even sure he would blame whoever sold the
m out.

  “We have to go into hiding,” he said.

  “I thought that’s what we were doing,” Sylvie said.

  “We’re hiding in plain sight. That won’t be adequate for much longer. We have to go somewhere no one knows us.”

  “Jamie and I have some land,” Sylvie ventured. “Up in the Strawberry Mountains, near John Day. Dad used to go hunting up there. I think I can find the keys to the trailer, but I don’t know if I can remember how to get there. Jamie?”

  Jamie had come over for breakfast: a side of raw bacon. Robert was sleeping in, still recovering from his ordeal. She nodded at her sister. “I think I can find my way there. If not, I know the people who live at the base of the mountain. I’m sure they’ll give us directions.”

  “Then let’s pack up and go,” Terrill said, standing up as if ready to leave that minute.

  “Do you think it’s a good idea to be out of communication range?” Sylvie said, not stirring from the table. “If anyplace is outside a coverage area these days, it’s the Strawberry Mountains.”

  Terrill sat down again. He hadn’t thought of that.

  Sylvie was already getting busy on her laptop. “Apparently, there’s a Wi-Fi network covering Eastern Oregon that’s owned by some millionaire,” she said after a few minutes of searching. “There wasn’t enough money for the big companies to invest in it, so he put his own five million dollars into the project and… get this… he offers it free to anyone in the area. I think we’ll be all right.”

  “Jamie? Get Robert ready,” Terrill said. “I’ll go track down Clarkson. I think until all this blows over, we’d best stay out of sight. With any luck, this Testament of Michael will fade away and everyone will forget all about vampires.”

  Jamie nodded, but Terrill could see she didn’t believe that would happen. To be honest, neither did he. The Testament of Michael had a strange pull on him, as if it was being directed at him, as if it was trying to tell him what to do.

  As if Michael was speaking to him personally from beyond the grave.

  Sylvie had woken up that morning with a fever. She was hacking and coughing and blowing her nose every few minutes. Terrill realized that he hadn’t been around anyone with one of humanity’s little diseases for a very long time. It was annoying.

  “You know, if I Turned you, you’d never get sick again,” he told her. “Then I wouldn’t have to follow you around throwing away used Kleenexes.”

  She looked at him with a frown, then saw that he was teasing. “So all I have to do to avoid a cold is become undead? Pretty high price to pay, wouldn’t you say? Thanks, but no thanks.”

  Terrill laughed. He watched her walk over to him, her body so fluid, so full of grace. When she plopped herself down in his lap, his heart seemed to melt into the rest of his body.

  She sneezed in his ear.

  “I’m serious,” he said, frowning. “You are so vulnerable to everything: bugs, accidents, anything at all. If you Turned, you’d be safe from those things.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Why not?”

  Her face was against his shoulder, but he could tell she was seriously considering the question. “Because… it isn’t natural.”

  “It is completely natural. According to Michael, it is just evolution.”

  “No, it’s not the natural order of things. I don’t think it is something that someone chooses. It happens to you, but you don’t go seeking it. You remain what you are until you aren’t. I know that doesn’t make much sense, but that’s how I feel, Terrill. I’m human and should remain so.”

  “But you love me, right?” he said, genuinely puzzled. “If you think I’m OK, then why wouldn’t you be OK?”

  “I love you in spite of you being vampire,” she said quietly. “I don’t love you because you are vampire.”

  “What about Jamie? You could be like her. She’s renounced all killing, and she seems fine with it.”

  “I’m not ready,” Sylvie said.

  Terrill left it at that. He’d always worry about her, and the fact that she was, like all humans, vulnerable to a thousand little things. At least she hadn’t completely shut the door on the idea. She just wasn’t ready.

  #

  They spent the rest of the day packing, and it was dark by the time they were done. They decided to wait for morning, then leave.

  Not long after sunset, there was a knock at the door. Jamie went to answer it.

  A strange vampire stood there, his eyes glowing with religious fervor. He was skinny, dressed in rags and smelled of the charnel house.

  “‘The Blood of Gold shall transform you, absolve you, make you one with God,’” the vampire said without preamble. “‘Partake of Terrill’s blood and thou shalt be redeemed, reborn in God’s grace.’”

  “Terrill? It’s for you,” Jamie said.

  Terrill sat frozen at his desk, uncertain what to do. Sylvie got up, went to the door and led the vampire into the house. “What’s your name?” she asked kindly.

  “Parks,” he mumbled. “Jon Parks.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “NO!” he shouted. “I will not drink the blood of the innocent!”

  “How about some raw pork?” Jamie said. “I’m sure this pig was guilty of something.”

  Terrill laughed. He couldn’t help it. The whole thing was ludicrous. This poor creature was under some delusion that Terrill was holy, somehow. That he would wash him clean of his sins.

  Terrill looked down at his arm. His skin had taken on a kind of bronzed tone, as if permanently tanned. It was the gold blood. There was no denying the gold blood.

  “You’ve got to do it,” Sylvie said, as if she could read his mind.

  After Jon had eaten some pork, they led him to the living room and had him sit down in the middle of the carpet. Terrill wondered what he should do next. Sylvie went to the kitchen and brought back a knife.

  “A few drops should do it,” she said.

  Terrill stood over the skinny vampire, who was trembling and blinking rapidly in excitement. His fangs had grown, and he was nearly vibrating with anticipation.

  Reluctantly, Terrill cut into his forearm, and a line of gold blood grew until it began to drip. He held his dripping arm over Jon’s open mouth and found himself saying, “This is my blood. Accept it and be one with me.”

  The others were looking at him with wide eyes. He ignored them, for at that moment, he truly did feel something awe-inspiring.

  I can save the vampires, he thought. I really can.

  The vampire Jon Parks suddenly stiffened and lay down on his back. Then he began to shake.

  Uh oh, Terrill thought. Not again.

  “Tell me you haven’t fed off a human recently,” Terrill said, feeling cold.

  “I wanted… I wanted…” Jon muttered, looking sad. He looked up at Terrill. “I’m weak.”

  Terrill stepped back, expecting him to explode, as Stuart, the leader of the Wilderings, had when he’d ingested Terrill’s blood. Instead, the skinny vampire’s flesh slid off his bones and instantly decayed into a putrid puddle. His back arched and his bones disconnected from each other, his skull rolling off to one side.

  They all stood in a circle over the putrefying remains, too shocked to move.

  Finally, Jamie spoke. “Next time, could we do this outside? I don’t think we’ll ever get those stains out of the carpet.”

  No one laughed. Sylvie nodded, as if that had been a serious comment. “We’ll have to come up with some procedures, that’s for sure. Maybe some kind of test. Some way to weed out the less than sincere.”

  Terrill was stunned, not only by the preceding events, but also by Sylvie’s words. It struck him that this was going to be a constant occurrence; that as The Testament of Michael reached more and more vampires, some were going to seek him out, both worthy and unworthy.

  “We’re not waiting until morning,” he said. “We’re leaving tonight.”

  The others didn’t argue. Their two
vans were already loaded and gassed up. As soon as they cleaned up the mess, they locked up the house and left, telling no one where they were going.

  #

  An hour later, a SWAT team stormed the house. After a short time, the team leader emerged and approached the FBI agent in charge.

  “It’s clear,” he reported. “Looks like they packed up and left. Other than a god-awful smell, there’s nothing here.”

  Callendar nodded. He sensed that they had just missed the vampires. Secretly, he was relieved. This raid hadn’t been his idea.

  After Crescent City, he’d been put on leave. Orders had come in for him to be FBI liaison to the Canadian government across the border from the oil fracking fields of North Dakota. He’d laughed when he’d read that. North Dakota! They couldn’t have found a more isolated spot for him to be exiled.

  He didn’t care anymore. He only had two years left until he’d put in his thirty years, and he didn’t care where he spent them.

  Then, unexpectedly, he’d been called to Washington, to find himself, along with his partner, Jeffers, in the office of the director of the FBI. Jeffers hadn’t been in charge at Crescent City, and Callendar had been glad that he’d avoided most of the blame. They’d given each other a big hug, something they had never done before in front of other people.

  Director Landry didn’t greet them, didn’t even look up from his desk. Instead, he started reading something off his computer.

  “‘Fear not the hunter, for if thou art innocent of spilling the red blood, thou shalt be absolved of all crime. Drink thou of the Blood of Gold and thou shalt live in peace alongside mankind until the end of thy days.’”

  Landry looked up, frowning. “What do you know about this?”

  “I have read The Testament of Michael,” Callendar said. “That’s all I know.”

  “But what is this ‘blood of gold?’”

  “Did you read our report?” Callendar asked, and the director nodded. “Then you know that Terrill and his followers walk in sunlight. Nor did I see them kill any human. I think I believe what the book is saying, sir.”