by Casey Lane
He stumbled into the light of day, unable to walk straight, as his legs had not yet regained their strength and balance. As he grasped the stair rail to the train station platform, he began to glide. He closed his eyes and willed his body to levitate, his robes waving like a flag of defiance.
As he decided to shed his robes, to deny the assigned wardrobe of the Society, a strange, bitter scent surrounded him in a hazy fog. A pungent odor of fresh garlic mixed with peat entered his nostrils. Draegan flinched, partly in disgust, partly in pain and fear; he knew what the odor meant. Capsules! Mordecai was sending capsules because he was too weak to catch him.
Each capsule was a small, marble-sized projectile that consisted of behavior-enhancing or behavior-modifying substrates. The capsules were transported telepathically and would restructure the recipient’s manner of thought and action.
Draegan had witnessed the powerful effects of the capsules when he was younger. As a small boy, filled with the energy and curiosity of any human child, he’d been galloping through the Society’s halls, playing hide and seek. It was then, in one of the side rooms, he’d stumbled into one of the first medical trials.
In his memory, a tall vampire whose hair swept back from his high forehead, sat strapped in a chair in the middle of the room. He appeared desperate and unkempt, unlike the general population of vampires who kept themselves meticulously groomed.
Draegan knew at first sight, he was no ordinary vampire; there was something very unusual and maybe extraordinary about him.
“Mordecai,” the rough vampire’s voice was smooth and deep. “You know what you are doing is wrong. It’s unnatural.” His words sprouted from a conviction of right and wrong, rooted at the deepest part of the vampire’s psyche.
“It is not I who has done wrong, Leander,” Mordecai responded. “It is you who has violated the code. It’s you who has violated natural law.”
Draegan was quite familiar with Mordecai’s tone. That voice had soothed him in times of childish distress, and laughed with him in discovery and excitement. To hear Mordecai’s voice steeped in rage made him shiver as he hid. Draegan sunk deeper in the shadows, continuing to eavesdrop.
“The law is not natural,” argued Leander.
“To fall in love with a woman? A human woman?” Mordecai shouted. His thick voice carried through the empty hallway. “You have no control. You should never have followed your base emotions. Your actions are wrong and punishable.”
The vampire sitting before the High Table darkened visibly with barely controlled anger. “All I did was seek happiness and peace. I hurt no one. I did not break the Vow of Peace.”
“Yes, you did,” contradicted Mordecai. “No vampire may enter into the bond that unites him or her with another for life, commonly known as the bond of marriage, particularly with a human.”
The defendant vampire laughed. “There is no reason for a life of celibacy. Even if it is a vow we take, we are all guilty of violating it. I merely ‘enhanced’ my human relations.”
“You not only entered into a bond,” shouted Mordecai, “you entered into a vow of marriage. Vows that you cannot, as a vampire, possibly keep.”
“I don’t see why I cannot keep my vow to her.”
“Leander, you cannot live in her human house! If it were not for the Society’s timely interference, you would have proceeded to procreate or set up a family. Where would that lead? You cannot live amongst the humans. Your place is here, with the Society.”
Leander laughed at Mordecai’s words. Draegan could see the red anger in Mordecai’s face and neck spread to his shaking hands and feet. It was then, seeing Leander’s resolve in the face of the High Table’s Inquisition, Draegan felt his first desire to defy power.
“Set up a family?” Leander continued to laugh. “If that is how you refer to sexual intercourse, then I’m pleased to tell you we’ve already set up a family, many times, before your rats invaded our home.”
“Enough!” shouted Mordecai.
“No. I am not through. We procreate with the breeders, who are human women. And why? Because you destroyed our females.”
Draegan saw the fire behind Mordecai’s eyes flicker. With one glance at the vampire guards by the door behind Leander, Mordecai set in motion an unseen force that lifted Leander’s arms, which had hung loose off the sides of the chair. Leander’s arms were forcibly compressed, as if by a massive change in air pressure, against the oak arms of the chair.
Draegan curled into a fetal position, as something tore through the skin of the defiant vampire. Leander stared at his arms, aghast as small, root-like structures crawled from his flesh. The vampire screamed as he saw that they were his own veins tearing through his skin. He strained against the ties, but he could not budge. Urine ran down his legs as his veins wrapped around his limbs, further tying him in place. His skin peeled back from the bone as a strange smell filled the room.
Leander’s shrieks turned to pleas to be let loose. “Free me, you sadist!” Blue, sticky blood oozed to the floor, coagulating in a gelatinous soup around his feet.
Draegan felt a knot of fear clutch his throat, along with a stirring of desire to participate. He had never known Mordecai or any vampire to resort to such violence, and he was entranced by the power of those in control. The pain they administered inspired his imagination.
I want this power . . . this power to control . . . to punish the weak.
Draegan smelled the garlic mixed with peat as the capsule had invaded Leander’s olfactory system. Within moments, the vampire became still, as if hypnotized. Images from his thoughts flew through the air, like a movie would be at a theatre.
Stills of Leander with his human wife, laughing and embracing, covered the walls. Hand in hand, images of their love filled the room. Each image was a critical memory or event.
Then Draegan watched as Mordecai selected memories to destroy. He walked along the projections, popping any image involving the human woman with his talon-like fingernail, as if it was a bubble in the air. The dust of the projections fell like glitter to the floor.
“We must change all images of his past that led him to this woman,” charged Mordecai. “A crucial act, if we are to control the future.”
After destroying Leander’s memories of his human wife, Mordecai emitted another low hum. The veins that had wrapped around Leander’s limbs retreated to their natural state, his skin unfolded back to place, and the ties binding Leander to the chair unraveled.
A small suction device—a brass tube on wheels, with a clock timer—rolled into the room to sweep up the discarded memories that had fallen to the floor. When the vampires’ humming changed melodic keys, Leander stirred.
“Mordecai, my friend,” he said, opening his eyes instantly. “What are we doing in this private library?”
Draegan was shocked at his change of demeanor. Every molecule of Leander’s being now lay in submission. He behaved as a loyal member of the Society.
“What happened to my robes?” Leander continued, looking at his human garb—a black suit with a white buttoned down coat.
“You had mentioned a holiday . . . ” Mordecai suggested gently.
“A holiday?” Leander laughed. “I don’t need a holiday. No one takes a holiday from the Society.”
“Ah, Leander,” Mordecai continued, a strange look playing in his eyes. “A lady named Nicola came to the Society this morning. Do you know her?”
A thick cloak of anticipation covered the room as they waited for Leander’s response.
“Nicola? I don’t believe I know anyone by that name. Did she ask for me?” asked Leander.
Mordecai maintained a straight face, but Draegan saw victory dancing in his eyes. Nicola was Leander’s human wife. The Society had erased her from his life. They had won. The capsules were a success.
“No, she did not,” answered Mordecai. “She was wandering about like a mental patient. Typical human woman.” Mordecai sounded calm and compassionate, a strange juxtaposition to
moments ago. “Unstable and clinging.”
Draegan stood, enraptured. He knew vampires were powerful, but he was just beginning to understand how powerful. Most of all, he understood how much he wanted to possess this highest level of power and control.
Living his memories behind, Draegan picked up speed and hovered over the train station, moving in excess of twenty-five miles per hour, hoping to evade the capsules that had been sent after him. Visions of Leander’s transformation filled his mind as he made his way from one platform to another.
Behind him, he heard the gentle buzz of a capsule as it flew invisibly toward him.
“Give in,” he heard the voice inside his head resonate. “Accept surrender.”
Draegan picked up speed, trying to outrun the voice as it chased him. “Go away. I have seen you use these capsules,” he hissed into the wind. “I will overpower the Society. I am stronger!”
“You have seen nothing,” replied the voices of the High Table.
“Go away!” Draegan yelled to the sky. “I know what you did to Leander. I will not suffer the same loss.”
“Leander? Nothing happened to Leander,” spoke the voice.
“Lies,” he hissed. “ I saw!”
“Merely a figment of a childish dream . . . ”
Draegan felt the wind rush through his clothes and hair. Self-doubt engulfed him. He reminded himself it was the Society taking over his mind. Ignore the doubts. You know the truth. But was it a dream? Could it have happened as he slept? No. He had been awake, had smelled the capsule. Hold onto the truth!
“It was the day I scolded you,” Mordecai said in a soothing voice. “You were playing in the rain with your wooden cart. It crashed on the slippery pavement, and you came into my office, soaking wet. You fell asleep, crying. Capsules? You dreamt it all.”
The voice sounded very convincing. Draegan remembered the rain and the wooden cart. His cart had crashed into the Headmaster’s house due to the wet slick roads. He remembered crying in Mordecai’s office. But maybe that was a planted memory? Be on your guard, believe nothing.
Draegan stopped at the gate. “I will believe nothing I hear from you. Nothing. The Society is a ship of lies.”
From behind the trees lining the iron gates, two shadowy vampires emerged. “Hello, Draegan.” Mordecai’s voice shattered the darkness.
“Hello, Mordecai.” Draegan spoke as if it was quite natural to see Mordecai materialize as the day broke.
“You are needed, my son. We need our boy genius back in the flock.”
Draegan was unsure which sentence seemed stranger. Mordecai calling him his son in a fond manner, or openly insinuating he was needed? Was the Society in trouble? He felt an uncomfortable shiver on the back of his neck. He knew he must safeguard himself against something, so he slowly drew his retractable laser guns from his wrists.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, my son,” said Mordecai as he walked cautiously toward Draegan. “You can trust me. I brought you into this world. I planned you, created you.”
As Mordecai reached out, his eyes closed, and the sleeves of his robe stretched, as if to wrap Draegan within their folds.
Draegan jumped before Mordecai could complete his embrace. Flying backward upon the roof of the station, he immediately crouched down and stretched out on the cold metal, feeling himself merge with the cold ceiling. Every cell of his body thinned, liquefying into the roof.
In less than a second, Mordecai jumped to follow, merging his own essence into the metal after Draegan. Each was aware of the other, yet they both belonged to the same metallic sheet covering the ceiling. The unity enabled Mordecai to exert a different force on Draegan’s mind, trying to convince to give himself up. Draegan attempted to move away, stretching through the silvery tin roof, Mordecai following closely behind.
When they reached the edge, Draegan leapt from the metal roof and hovered over the city. He was weakened from his bodily re-emergence from the metal, combined with the after effects of the tranquilizing ray.
Turning windward, he tried floating. He looked back at the station house to see Mordecai, a weaker vampire, re-establishing his physical essence after leaving the metal. Draegan felt his own systems shutting down, as he drifted slowly toward the ground.
I will die before I give up. I will rule this world and all who remain in it. He closed his eyes and everything became dark and quiet. His body grew weaker as he descended, and just as he was about to hit the ground, he felt a sense of peace.
“Will you help us?” It was the voice of Mordecai, again.
“No.”
“Think of all you have yet to do. You could take over the Society one day. But you must come back with me.”
“Me? Not Luca?” Draegan challenged. But even in his weakened state, Draegan felt greed wrap itself around him.
“You are ambitious,” Mordecai continued.
Draegan opened his eyes as he lay on the ground, Mordecai kneeling beside him.
“Ambition is good,” his mentor said. “Look at me. I head the High Table and both clans. They look up to me, and I keep the peace.”
“Keeping the peace keeps you a prisoner of your desires. This peace is unnatural.”
“Luca would bow to you,” appeased Mordecai. “Make your decision now, and live to see that day. Otherwise, you will perish a cold, deserted, nameless vampire.”
Draegan’s mind spun. He knew his options were few in his weakened state. “I will return with you. I will obey you, in return for this place of power you have promised me.”
Mordecai’s wrinkled countenance smiled as he picked Draegan up in his arms and blew gently across his face to fully revive him.
Mordecai then placed Draegan on the ground, under a tree. He and the other vampire each took one of Draegan’s immobile hands in theirs. Mumbling in a low monotone groan, Mordecai raised his face to the sky. As his voice rose in decibel, a small tornado formed around Draegan. The tornado grew, expanding toward the clouds, forming a giant wall of dust and air that whirled around the three vampires.
Mordecai’s voice rose with the tornado, becoming equal with its strength and force, until it broke into three smaller ones. Two balanced on either side of Draegan, while the third twisted into a small line of violent air, forcing itself between his parted lips.
The force jolted Draegan, and his lungs expanded painfully. He let out a silent scream, and he rose slowly from the ground.
The dual winds carried the vampires over the city. The airstreams died to a slow breeze as they approached the Society’s main offices.
“He will remember nothing,” chanted Mordecai, blowing into Draegan’s face once again.
Draegan looked at the serene, confident face of his leader and smiled. But I do. I will remember everything . . . foolish old man.
Chapter Seven
The Birth of Death
“How much longer?” begged the woman, shouting into the air. Her voice screeched through the halls, pleading to be answered. Yet, she lay alone, in and empty, gray room, away from civilization, behind a thicket of gardens that hid the smog-smeared windows.
Her forehead dripped with the sweat of her labor, eyes wild with pain. Her fists clenched in controlled hysteria, as her naked abdomen rose and fell, contracting and pushing.
“Hello? Is anyone there?” she cried.
When there was no response, the woman pulled herself to a sitting position. Her stomach distended and twisted as she tried to stand. She pulled a blanket to cover her naked form, but the pains of labor threw her to the cold ground. She groaned like an animal as she crawled to the locked door. The pressure grew, and she tried not to push. Blood leaked from her body, welling around her ankles.
She held her breath and bit into her lips. Grasping the rough wall, she pulled up into a standing position. Her belly contracted, and she slid back down. Trying again, she pulled over a carved, wooden priest’s chair, balancing on the red velvet of the seat to the open window. Another contraction. She bent an
d breathed through the agony.
“Stay where you are,” she commanded her child, as she slithered through a window, landing in the large bushes below. In her pain, she cared nothing for modesty. Her naked, rounded form ran through the garden gates of the old cemetery. Stay! She willed her unborn child with every ounce of strength. It is not safe for you.
She curled upon the ground by the door of an old mausoleum. She pushed and breathed. Nothing. She moved to a squat, her knees bent as she balanced on her feet, staring into the dark sky. The sounds of wolves sung in the night. Her body, stained with sweat and blood, swayed as she pushed.
Her back arched and her thighs quivered from strain. A slippery wetness oozed from her onto the dark earth floor, and she instinctively blocked the baby from exiting. Then nothing. Blackness covered her eyes and mind. Her body relaxed, she felt like a rubber band.
“No,” she said, barely audible. “I will not give her up.” She closed her eyes and fell into a silent and dark world, her mind entering another realm of awareness.
As she came to, a butterfly clung to the window of a strangely dim room. She did not know where she was; her body still heaved with late pregnancy, yet she felt nothing anymore.
“This could be the one,” whispered Mordecai from behind the blackened glass window. “The one to destroy our balance.” He looked at the belly of the woman. “Virginia?” he spoke through the intercom, his voice startling her.
“Who are you?” she asked. “I am cold. I need to be covered.” She lay, unclothed upon a metal gurney, a white sheet beneath her. Along the walls of the room, microscopes and beakers lined the tables.
“Did you not keep your medical appointment with the Society?” Mordecai demanded answers to how the pregnancy had developed, unnoticed by the High Table.
“I don’t remember. You should know. It’s your Society!”
He was beyond vexed. “Cover her foul human form, please.” He clicked off the overcom.
