Fledgling (The Vampire Manifesto, Book Two)

by Rashaad Bell

  I stopped and then wrapped my arms about her midriff, pulling her slender body close to my own, my mouth close to her ear. “This…” I whispered.

  I began to kiss her neck, my tongue against her skin, my teeth on her flesh when Connor appeared for a moment, standing not far behind Dakota so only I could see. He shook his head no and then vanished, faster than even my Vampiric eyes could track. Even though he was only there for an instant, I could ascertain something was wrong.

  I pulled away from Dakota Theia, kissing her once more, then held her at arms distance, just admiring the flawlessness that was she.

  “What’s wrong?” She asked.

  “I have to go.” I paused, not wanting to leave her. She was different. Her fragrance didn’t drive me insane; I didn’t become blood drunk in her company. However, it did cry out to me in other ways.

  “Go?” I could see the look of disenchantment on her façade. It paralleled my own. “But we just met.”

  I reached out and pulled her to me once more, her form against mine.

  With all my strength, I spirited away, as swift as I could, to the effect that I simply ceased to be in her presence anymore, a phantom specter that willed its way out of existence. From afar, I could see with my Vampire eyes as she twirled around, this way and that, looking for me, searching, not understanding how a person could just vanish in such a fashion, not comprehending how adjacent to death she truly had come.

  I turned and made my way across the street, leaving the beach and Dakota Theia behind me, making my way towards Connor who waited patiently underneath a street lamp. A fiend in human clothing, with murder in his eyes and an angelic smile on his face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Listen.” He held up a finger. “Tell me what you hear.”

  As random as his request was I did as I was requested, closing my eyes and concentrating, listening with my Vampire hearing in a fashion that I could never do when I was alive. Reverberations inundated my mind, indoctrinating my senses with their melody. The world around me blacked out and a closed inner visualization came alive within me, the sounds of commonplace life flowing through me as water would a faucet.

  “Convey to me what you hear.” Connor asked.

  “Just…” I hesitated temporarily. “Just the world. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

  “Listen harder.” He persisted, discounting my response. “Listen to the repeating sounds.”

  I concentrated again, blocking out everything that did not fit the criteria. Reiterating sounds. That’s what I searched out and that is what I discovered.

  “Heartbeats.” I announced. The heartbeats of those around me.

  “No focus even harder.” He commanded. “Tell me what you hear. Tell me what you remember.”

  “I don’t understand what...”

  “Just…concentrate.” Interjected Connor bitterly. “And tell me what you hear.”

  The poundings of the hearts around me swamped my senses, gripping me in their melodic nature. There were just so many of them, each one distinctive in their own right, each of them, so similar and yet so…

  That’s when I heard it.

  “Someone’s following us.” I indicated abruptly.

  I opened my eyes to discover Connor staring at me. “By what method did you come to that assumption?”

  “Because I recognize their heartbeat.” I announced. “I remember hearing it at the airstrip when we landed. It was there in the distance, yet close enough.”

  “Now you see why I came to get you.” Connor gripped my hand and pulled me along as we begin to walk, blending into the multitude about us.

  “Is it the Marauders?” I became terrified, recalling everything they had done to me. “Have they found us?”

  Connor shook his head. “No, they wouldn’t be this careless. If it were the Marauders, we wouldn’t know it until they were already on top of us.”

  “Then who?” I asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know?” I exclaimed.

  “You need to calm down.” Connor directed me along, his hand against my mine, our fingers interlocked. “I don’t consider it a good week if I haven’t been followed at least twice.”

  “What’s the plan?” I asked. “You…do have a plan, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do.” He replied. “Apprehend whoever it is following us, torture them until I find out why, then kill them.”

  “Really?” I asked. “That’s your plan?”

  “Yup.”

  “So…do you only have one strategy for every situation that you come across?”

  “Yup.” Connor stopped in front of what appeared to be private club. “Works every time.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  The bouncer gave us the once over. “Welcome back Mr. Prometheus.”

  “Prometheus?” I shot Connor a look.

  “It’s my last name.” He responded.

  I was suspicious. “Is it really?”

  He just smiled. “No, but it rolls of the tongue so stylishly, doesn’t it?”

  “This fucking dude.” I mumbled to myself.

  The bouncer opened the doorway. “Your table as usual?”

  “Is the Red Room available?” Connor asked.

  “The Red Room?” Repeated the bouncer.

  “I have a…guest who shall be accompanying us shortly.”

  “Very well.” The bouncer led us inside, signaling for the host. “This is Mr. Prometheus. He is a favored client in need of the Red Room.”

  The host nodded quickly. “Right this way Mr. Prometheus.”

  She directed us through the social establishment, moving briskly, maneuvering with experienced ease. I’ve never been inside an institution like this before. It was bizarre, chockfull with faintly lit with individual enclosures for tables, semi closed off for confidentiality. In many of the booths, some of the most glamorous women I’ve ever laid eyes on pirouetted in platinum bikinis in front of sophisticatedly attired men and women.

  “What is the place?” I whispered.

  “It’s christened the 20twelve Lounge.” Connor said. “It’s very…selective in its membership.”

  As we were led to our table, a performer not far off ensnared my eye; the way she moved appeared to have me to a certain degree, mesmerized. She smelled of honeycomb and raspberries and her skin dazzled in the low light from some type of salve. I was captivated. I couldn’t take my eyes off her and in my mind; all I could contemplate of was my fingers across her chest and my teeth in her neckline.

  Connor tracked my gaze. “I’ll see what I can do about procuring you a membership.”

  The host led us towards the rear, sitting us down in a distinct room at a distance from everyone else. There were no windows in this room and yet the walls seemed to be made of one long continues flat screen TV that gave a panoramic view of the club around us.

  We sat down on supple leather chairs and the host decanted chilled Champaign that was already waiting. As the copious rubicund fluid filled up the crystal wine glasses, I recognized at once that it was lifeblood she dispensed and not wine.

  “I’d like to set up a supplementary membership.” Connor motioned towards me. “For my comrade here.”

  The host smiled. “Sixteen million for the first year. Three million for each additional year.”

  Connor merely nodded.

  The woman produced a thin tablet device. “Please position your hand here.”

  I was skeptical, but Connor just laughed. “It’s okay.” In spite of my trepidations, I placed my palm on top of the tablet and burgundy light began to outline my hand slowly.

  “Thank you.” Said the host as the light concluded its run. “You can remove your hand now.”

  I did as I was told and the entire wall in front of us faded to black. A replica of my driver’s license appeared in front of us, the snapshot enlarged beside it.

  I’ve always loathed that picture.

  “Rose. Amber.” The host sta
ted. “Caucasian female, seventeen years of age.” She turned towards Connor. “Shall Miss Rose be registered as a favored client as well?”

  “Yes.” He answered.

  “Indeed.” She said. “An additional million will be added to the annual rate. Red Room access has been sanctioned.”

  The wall faded again, fluctuating back to the panoramic view of the club outside the room.

  “I’ll notify you when my…guest arrives.” Connor stated.

  The host nodded then turned to leave. After she was wholly gone, I turned to Connor.

  “What the hell was that all about?” I asked. “What’s the deal with this place?”

  “The 20twelve Lounge is somewhere that you can go and…encounter people.” He proclaimed.

  The way he explained that just seemed kinda off. “What manner of people?”

  “The unsavory sort.” He answered. “The type of people who can accomplish things, or procure objects that would typically be frowned upon by cultured society.”

  I looked out at the club beyond, scrutinizing the type of cliental it serviced. They all seemed like they were well off, money wise. Exceptionally well dressed, nothing skullduggery about them at all.

  “Is that our Mayor?” I exclaimed.

  “Hmmm, Mayor Richards, yes that’s her.” Connor frowned. “Remind me to kill her daughter afterwards.”

  I didn’t even want to know.

  “How can you afford all this?” I asked. “The cars, the private plane and airstrip? You just spent sixteen million dollars on a membership like you were ordering a number three at Burger King.”

  Connor laughed. “The stock market isn’t that problematic to navigate when one of your close acquaintances is a time traveler.”

  “John Rogers.” I stated. “And now it all makes sense in an ass backwards kind of way.”

  Plus I’ve won the mega million lottery approximately six or seven times.” He added.

  “What?” I was astonished. “How in the hell did you do that?”

  Connor drained his glass. “You curse a lot.”

  “Just answer the question.” I demanded. “Rogers contributed the winning numbers?”

  “Well not per say.” He stood up, moving closer to the flat screen wall. “I’ve…familiarized myself to the winners.”

  “You mean you killed them.” I amended.

  “No, no, no.” He shook his head. “That would attract too much attention. I persuade them…”

  “You mean you enthralled them.”

  “Well, yes.” Connor turned towards me. “I enthralled them to bequeath me their money. All of it.”

  “Then what?” I asked. “You just leave them destitute?”

  Connor seemed surprised at the allegation. “What category of monster do you reason I am? No, after they give me their money, typically its somewhere around one hundred and fifty million, maybe two hundred million if they were fortunate, I establish an account for them, twenty million dollars is what I’ve come to recognize is the precise amount of money through trial and error. It’s sufficient enough for them to splurge and purchase whatsoever they hunger for and keep up the appearance that they still have their extensive lottery winnings. Plus I’ll invest a portion of that twenty million that I’ve deposited into their account with the statistics I receive from John Rogers whenever he elects to pop into our timeline, just so their account can be replenished if need be.”

  “You’re insane.” I alleged in revulsion.

  “Absolutely.” He agreed. “But I’m also a futurist. You’re immortal now Madison. You need to think in the long term and when I say long term; I’m talking about epochs at a time. Money makes the world go round young lady. You wanna work at Wal-Mart for the remainder of your immortal life? You need money to endure and preferably, lots of it, but you can’t draw attention to yourself. You don’t wanna pop up on somebody’s radar. You can’t become a movie star or open up a computer corporation because we dwell in the era of the silicon chip and the internet now. Somebody is gonna notice when a dude who won the Oscars thirty years ago got photographed on an ATM camera and hasn’t aged a day. You need to learn how to prepare for shit like that.”

  Connor and his asinine logic that makes sense...

  “What’s so extraordinary about this Red Room?” I began to take in my environment, remarking that everything from the furnishings to the wine was a dark crimson. “Other than the décor.”

  “You’ll understand soon enough.” Connor was observing the screens, concentrating on the entrance to the 20twelve Lounge. “You hear that?”

  I paused temporarily. “Yeah. Identical heartbeat. Whoever it is, they’re right outside the Lounge now.”

  “Excellent.” Connor pressed on the wall screen and our hosts face appeared on it. “Our guest has arrived. They’re outside right now. Please have them chaperoned to the Red Room.”

  “Right away, Mr. Prometheus.” The representation of the host faded from view.

  A couple of seconds later a woman was shepherded inside the 20twelve Lounge. I could tell by the way her heartbeat was racing and by the way the bouncer had her gripped by the arm that she didn’t have any choice in the matter.

  It took me a second before it dawned on me. “I know that woman.”

  Connor shot me glance. “Really?”

  “Yeah.” I couldn’t believe it. “That’s my principle, Staci Girard.”

  “Well didn’t this just get stimulating?” Connor secured a seat next to me and waited patiently until the entry of the Red Room opened and Principle Girard was callously escorted inside by a brute of a man in an exceptionally well cut suit.

  “Johnny Fingers, it’s been a while.” Connor said. “How’s the family?”

  “Life’s a bitch and then you die.” Fingers shoved Staci into the chair opposite of us.

  “Appropriately spoken.” Connor was watching our new guest attentively.

  “Madison?” Girard exclaimed in astonishment.

  Johnny Fingers hesitated at the egress. “When you get an opportunity, Sal wanted to know if you could swing by, got some…tech he wishes you to check out.”

  This caught Connors attention. “What kinda tech?”

  Girard slanted towards me. “Madison what’s going on here? Do you know these individuals?”

  Connor shot his head towards Staci. “Shut up. Do not speak unless spoken too.”

  Johnny chuckled under his breath slightly. “I’m not sure, I haven’t seen it myself, but the Boss keeps referring to it as a Gorilla Unit.”

  “A Gorilla Unit?” Connors brow furrowed. “I haven’t seen one of those since…” He shook his head. “Inform your Boss not to fuck with it. That’s Fourth World, Medusa technology, exceedingly unstable and tremendously volatile. I know a guy who knows a guy. Let me touch base with him first.”

  “I’ll pass the word.” Johnny Fingers said.

  “Give Sal Pegleyomme and the rest of the boys my love.” Connor focused his attention towards Staci Girard. “You may speak now.”

  She looked alarmed, but not as petrified as she should be. Something was categorically off about her. “Look, I don’t know who you are, but I’m calling the police if you don’t release me at once.”

  Connor rolled his eyes. “Go ahead.”

  “What?” Girard somewhat taken aback.

  “Call them. Please do.” Connor replied. “In fact, here, I’ll do it for you.”

  Connor pulled out his cell, pressed speaker, then dialed 911, yet nothing transpired. There was nothing but static on the other end. Girard reached into her purse, her hand trembling, virtually knocking out its entire contents on the tabletop as she rummaged for her phone. She dialed 911 as well, yet the result was identical, nothing but static interference.

  “I don’t…” Girard was stuttering, unexpectedly terror-stricken. “I don’t understand.”

  I could ascertain the dread in her eyes and it made me thirsty.

  “Madison, please, help me.” She beseeche
d.

  I refused speak, instead snatching the Champagne decanter of blood by the neck, ignoring the crystal glasses altogether and downing the contents.

  “You see…” Connor indicated to the room around us. “This locality has been baptized the Red Room. It has precise dimensions and qualities about it, most of which I’m going to divulge to you now. First off, there are numerous frequency jamming mechanisms built into the walls and ceilings, which in effect, render cell phones inactive.”

  She was about to make a run for it. I could perceive it in her body movements, the way her muscles tensed up in her neck and shoulders. Nothing audacious mind you, just miniscule movements, but adequate enough for my Vampire eyes to distinguish.

  “I’d snap your neck before you even made it to the door.” Apparently, Connor detected it as well.

  I could discern her starting to body relax, though not by much. Connor seemed just a little too tranquil. I could tell he was enjoying this. He took pleasure from her fear, celebrated in her anxiety.

  Is this my future? Is this what I’m predestined to become?

  Better yet, is this what I am already?

  “Now I’m going to ask you some questions, okay Staci?” The enthusiasm on Connors face when he said this made me nauseous. Only because it emulated my own countenance.

  “Okay.” Girard was analyzing me, imploring with her eyes for my assistance, yet all I could do was smile in anticipation.

  “Why were you following me?” He asked.

  “Why were you following us?” I amended.

  My manner took Connor by surprise, more so than it did my Principle. I was getting stimulated; I could feel the blood in my body began to hasten, generating heat that made my skin tingle.

  “If you lie to us Principle Girard, well…I just think that it would end very badly for you. Very, very badly.” My pitch was even, but my emotions were in disarray. I didn’t want her to tell the truth. I wanted her to lie. Just the notion of killing her sent little orgasmic shudders across my flesh.

  “Uh oh.” Connor laughed. “Looks like you got a case of bad cop, worse cop.”

  I wanted to bound across the table and rip out her heart. “Do you understand why they call this place the Red Room, Principle Girard?”

  Connor looked at me skeptically. “Do you?”