by Rashaad Bell
“This is where you can go and kill someone.” I finished. “It’s a privilege that the members of the 20twelve Lounge pay dearly for.”
Connor seemed astonished. “Huh…well I guess you do.”
“Oh my God.” Girard sobbed to herself, tears streaking down the side of the face.
“I am a member.” I added. “Do you comprehend what that means Staci? Do you understand that I am a member of the 20twelve Lounge and you are sitting in the Red Room with me? Do you understand that every single person in this establishment pays for this amenity? Do you understand that there is no one here that would come to your aid?”
She just sat there, crying, incapable of speech. It made me want to caress her, hold her close to me and whisper in her ear that everything was going to be okay. She wasn’t old, no, not by far, twenty-six max. I always speculated how someone that young could get an appointment as a Principle, but she was well qualified for the task, test scores went up almost immediately after she was hired.
Her ruby hair and delicious complexion reminded me of Dakota, my innocent little Dakota Theia, with the almond shaped eyes and the skin like electric velvet, yet even as I contemplated her, all I hungered after was just to kiss Girard softly on her stomach, my lips brushing softly against her skin, my tongue moving in slow circles. There was so many things that I envisioned myself doing to her at this moment and once I was done, all I wanted was her blood down my throat until my heartbeat began synchronizing its tempo with hers, beating in unison until hers ceased to beat altogether.
“So please, answer all of our questions.” I demanded. “Do not lie. I’ll know.”
Connor had repositioned himself somewhat so he could see me better. “What in the hell has gotten into you?”
I thought about it for a moment. “I just really wanna fuck something then kill it.” I turned towards him. “What’s up with that?”
He couldn’t contain his laughter. “It’s that young chick you encountered earlier. Her scent has made you blood drunk. Your senses are getting out of control and everything is being augmented. This is what I was cautioning you about earlier. You can’t go home like this, no, you don’t want to be near anybody you care about in this state. You need to feed first.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off Principle Girard. “I agree.”
“And preferably that girl you met earlier.” He added. “What’s her name again?”
“Dakota Theia.” I replied. “Don’t act like you don’t remember.”
He rolled his eyes. “Well her scent is in your system now; you’re blood drunk off the essence of her. That feeling won’t go away. Ever. She’ll always be in your thoughts, always in the back of your consciousness. That’s never good.”
Girard had stopped crying, but she didn’t speak, she was frozen in fear, our tête-à-tête about how we can be so cavalier about murder slowly beginning to sink in. I think she’s starting to realize that no matter what she tells us, she’s never leaving this room alive.
“What’s the big deal?” I asked. “So she gets me a little anxious, so what?”
“Because the longer you delay in killing her, the messier the kill becomes. Her scent, her touch, her voice, even just the memory of meeting her for the first time, every conceivable thing about her, it will just overwhelm you and before you know it; she’ll be dead, literally torn apart, ripped to shreds.” Connor explained. “Trust me, because I speak from experience, I honestly don’t believe that you’re ready for that sort of kill. Not yet at least.”
“And if I don’t kill her?” There was something he wasn’t divulging. “If I manage to keep my emotions in check?”
He looked as if as if he didn’t want to answer. “Then you’ll fall in love and transform her into what you are now. Just so the two of you can spend an eternity together. Whether she aspires to or not.”
“I’ll never do something like that.” How could he even think that I would? “Not to her, not to anyone.”
“Trust me.” Connor slumped back in his chair. “You won’t have a choice.”
I knew he was telling the truth, but it was the manner in which he declared it, the emotional impact behind it that grabbed my attention.
“Is that what happened to you?” I sought to examine his answer. “Is that what happened the night you encountered me? Did you come to be blood drunk off my scent?”
“You people are crazy.” Girard whispered to herself.
“Why were you following me?” Connor demanded abruptly, infuriated at her accusation, slamming his fist down on the table.
“Because they forced me.” She divulged.
“Who made you?” She was disclosing the truth, but she was also being ambiguous on purpose, trying to prolong the last moments of her existence.
She acted as if to speak, then restrained her words, not knowing what to say. “The perception of the serpent is blind.”
Connor visibly groaned. “Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding me?”
“What?” I exclaimed. “I don’t get it.”
“The perception of the serpent is blind.” She reiterated, this time with more zeal.
“It’s because it was stolen, given to the lamb, just before the sunrise.” He replied in agitation.
“But why were they stolen?” She persisted.
“Because I am the Shepard of my flock.” He finished, sighing impatiently. “And I do what I choose to protect it.”
“What does that mean, Connor?”
Girard seemed conspicuously at ease, not entirely, yet some of the distress and utter desolation that had plagued her before was beginning to dissipate.
“She’s Modus Operandi.” Connor jeered.
“Yeah, you say that like I’m supposed to know what that means.”
Girard directed her riposte towards me. “We analyze the occult, the paranormal, the interplanetary, dating as far back as…”
“You do nothing of the sort.” Connor contradicted. “You’re simply humans with like to flirt with catastrophe until it flirts back.”
“We’re academics.” She refuted.
“You’re glorified librarians who live with their nose stuck in some antediluvian manuscript for their entire life until one day you get a bug up your ass and elect get into the thick of it and intermingle with whatever the hell it is that you’ve been reading about.”
“Wait, so we’re not killing her then?” That was the only thing that I cared about.
“No.” Girard declared.
I gave her a long hard look, then glanced regretfully at Connor. “Really?”
Connor squinted his eyes to the point they were almost slits. I could tell he was mulling the idea over in his mind.
“Connor!” Yelled Girard.
“Don’t.” He exhaled harshly. “Just because you might have read something about me in some arbitrary manuscript somewhere, you don’t get to say my name like you know me. You have no idea who or what I’m about.”
I was totally confused. “So you’re not my Principle then?”
“Yes.” Staci said.
“But you’re also in this cult called Modus Operandi?” I asked.
“They’re not a cult Madison, but yeah, I’m one of their operatives…”
Connor scoffed. “You mean one of their imbecilic, suicidal librarians with a death wish!”
Girard inclined forward a bit. “Suicidal and death wish pretty much mean the same thing you know.”
Connor looked at me. “She has jokes.” He turned back towards Staci Girard. “Why do you have jokes?”
“Because you’re not going to kill me.” Staci proclaimed. “You need me.”
“Why were you following us?” I asked.
Girard seemed self-assured in her position suddenly, as if the fact that she belonged to some obscure cult of librarians that I’ve never heard of would save her. “Promise you’re going to let me live and I’ll tell you.”
“I promise I’ll kill you if you don’t.” He countered.
/> “You’re a noble man Connor. We have extensive archives chronicling your life. Give me your word and I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
Connor didn’t even contemplate the request. “I’m going to count to one and then I’m going to rip your heart out of your chest.”
“Please…” She implored.
“One.” Connor was across the table, grabbing her by the neck. He slung her across the full extent of the room, her body slamming against the back wall. He was on her in an instant, his hand at her chest, his fingers pressing into her.
“Waitwaitwaitwait!” She screamed.
Connor backed off a step, then in a blink, appeared next to me, resting comfortably in his chair.
Girard was breathless, holding her chest. There were five little blood discolorations on her blouse, situated around her heart where his fingers had begun to penetrate her flesh.
“See…” Connor gave me that devilish smile of his. “Works every time.”
“The people that are hunting you, I don’t know who they are.” She began.
Connor scowled. “Not exactly what I wanted to hear. Don’t make me get back up.”
“Look, I’m not lying.” She continued. “I honestly don’t know who they are. I just know they have a major hard on for you and they’re takings directives from some guy, calls himself Hawking.”
“Hawking?” Now this caught Connors attention. “Steven Hawking?”
“Yeah.” She answered. “That’s the one. Asian dude, white hair, scar running down across his eye and face.”
“Fuck.” Connor was somewhat disturbed. “And he’s here? Now?”
“They’ve already got men in the building.” Staci was still breathing hard, bent down on one knee.
I could smell the blood on her shirt.
“Who is this Hawking dude?” I asked.
“Bad business.” He replied.
Before he even completed his sentence, he was across the room, gripping Girard by the back of the neck, hoisting her off the ground somewhat, dragging her back towards me so she could look at the panoramic view of the rest of the club.
“Where?” He demanded. “Show me where they are.”
She struggled to raise her arm, the agony at her neck so intense that it almost hindered her movements. Slowly she pointed out three men situated at different areas on the Lounge floor, a beige triangle forming on each of their bodies when she touched them on the wall screen.
“Is that all?” Connor squeezed tighter. “Do not lie to me.”
“Y...yes.” She sobbed.
“Then I guess we’re done with you.” He said.
I knew he was going to kill her.
“Connor, no, wait!” I yelled.
He released the hold he had around her neck and her body plummeted to the ground.
“You said Modus Operandi assisted in getting you the Principle job, correct?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Which means you were ordered here, right?” There was something I needed to know and if what Connor said about these people were true, then maybe she would be custodian to the knowledge I seek.
“There was an influx of...” Staci began to cough violently. “An influx of lycanthrope activity in the area. I was…sent here to chronicle it.”
Connor turned around. “What do you know about that?”
“That they are in league with something called the Translucent Man.” Girard crawled towards the chairs, pulling herself up in one of them.
Connor smirked. “It always comes back to that douche bag, doesn’t it?”
“What do you know about the Eden Complex?” I asked.
“Give me your word.” She stammered. “Give me your word that you won’t kill me. That you’ll protect me.”
“We don’t have time for this.” Connor made a move towards her.
“Connor don’t.” I was in front of him. “Remember your promise. You said you’d help me locate Jenova Darkstar and free her.”
I could see the wrath in his eyes. He growled something ungodly and turned his back on both Staci and myself.
I kneeled down alongside her, taking her hand. “I’ll protect you. I give you my word.”
“Thank you.” She had started to cry again. “Thank you so very much.”
“Now what can you tell me about the Eden Complex?” I asked.
“Not here.” She said. “We have records on it. I need to access my laptop.”
I aided her to her feet. “What kind of records?”
“Comprehensive files.” She looked out at the club beyond us. “But what about Steven Hawking and his men?”
“You just leave that to me.” Connor was gone unexpectedly and it was just the two of us alone in the Red Room. I saw him appear behind a man down on the Lounge floor, snapping his neck, then disappearing before the body hit the ground.
He materialized behind another man, thrusting his hand into the man’s back, ripping his heart out, before vanishing again, just to surface in front of a third, plunging a switchblade in his chest, then he was back in the Red Room again, biting into the human heart he had ripped out as if it was an apple.
“Oh God.” Staci whispered.
Connor swallowed, then took another bite of the heart. Everything up to his forearm was drenched in blood. “Why you?” He asked Girard. “Why did they select you?”
“They…” I could tell she was losing it. “They knew who I was.”
“That you were Modus Operandi?” I asked.
“Yeah.” She said. “They knew I had the resources to locate him.”
“So much for your secret society being a secret.” He remarked. “And they forced you to pursue me?” He asked.
“Yes.”
“They knew you’d get caught.” Connor tossed the heart on the table. “They presumed I’d kill you, save them the time of having to do it themselves later on.”
Girard turned her head as Connor came close, only inches from her face, his mouth and chin saturated with blood.
“Is it everything you imagined?” He asked. “Is it just like how all your documents portrayed it when you were reading them in secluded comfort, next to a roaring fire and a spot of tea? Did the anecdotes of Vampires and Werewolves excite you?” He licked the side of her cheek, streaking blood across her face as she squirmed to get away.
I took ahold of him, hauling Connor away from her, jostling him up against the wall. “Enough.” I demanded. He tried to go back at her, but I pushed him away again, my hand on his chest holding him in place. “We need to go Connor.”
The entrance to the Red Room opened up as our host appeared once more. “Mr. Prometheus, need I remind you the reason behind the creation of the Red Room?” She was agitated, yet still kept her tone civilized.
Connor was staring me down, expecting me to back off, but I didn’t. Just because he was stronger than I, didn’t mean I was scared of him. Once he realized that I wasn’t going to clear a path to Staci Girard, he relaxed somewhat, then smiled, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt.
He turned towards our host. “No, I’m perfectly aware.” His tone belied a serenity that I knew he wasn’t in possession of. “However the fact that the 20twelve Lounge has been infiltrated by Agents of the Defense Initiative, I took it upon myself to rectify the situation.”
“The Defense Initiative?” The host’s eyes became just a tad wider. “Then…”
“Colonel Steven Hawking.” Connor finished. “Either he’s already on the premises, or he’s extremely nearby.”
“Then…I thank you for your promptness in dispatching our undesirable guests.” She gave a curt head nod. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll need to apprise management of our situation.”
“Certainly.” Connor replied.
“Colonel?” I asked. “This Hawking dude works for the government?”
Connor merely stared at me, declining to answer. I turned towards Girard. “Well?”
She seemed hesitant to answer at fir
st. “Colonel Steven Hawking. Born well before World War 1, he was experimented on by both the Bulgarian and United States government, ultimately becoming the recipient of the Legacy Serum. Out of the thousands of individuals that were tested on, he was the only survivor.”
“I thought you didn’t know anything about who was hunting me?” Connor reminded sarcastically. “And this is who you wanna throw your hat in with Madison?”
I ignored him. “Legacy Serum?” I repeated. “What the hell is that?”
“It gave him…” Girard hesitated, selecting her words judiciously. “Extra human capabilities. Heightened strength and durability, Alpha level regenerative qualities, including a nearly inactive ageing gene. During World War 2, he was inducted into the United States Marines and subsequently was given Presidential authorization to conceive an off book, black ops division called the Defense Initiative. Its mandate is to deal with things like…” Her voice trailed off.
“Like us, Madison.” Connor completed.
“Jesus.” I wasn’t sure to make of what I was hearing. “He’s a goddamn Super Soldier.” I turned back towards Connor. “And he’s here?”
“Possibly.” He stated.
“What does he want?” I already knew the answer to the question before I asked it.
“Me.” Connor proceeded towards the door. “Let’s go.”
I could perceive the misery in Girard’s face and I grabbed her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze in a vain attempt to sedate her fear. Things were happening so quickly. It seemed like it was only yesterday when the most complicated decision I had to make was what outfit to wear and now…
A part of me wanted to fault Connor for all of this, for turning me into a Vampire, transforming me into some impassive, immortal killer. My life was so much easier before I met him and everything that’s transpired since that auspicious night at the bonfire could be blamed on him and him alone.
Yet I knew this not to be true.
Connor protected me, liberating me from Goodwin’s failed abduction and has been guarding me ever since. Truth be told, it all originates with me and some nonsensical prophecy that I am believed to fulfill. The Box of Pandora. That’s what has devastated my life, completely rewriting my existence to the point that I’m not even the same person anymore. I could only imagine if this is what my life was like now and I haven’t even found the damn thing yet, what’s it gonna be like once I open it?
