Empire of Blood [Box Set]

by Robert S. Wilson

Every muscle in Hank's body had stiffened as his throat went dry and his vision became blurry. This monster had been watching Toby, maybe worse. Hank nodded, trying to keep the hatred from showing on his face.

  "You don't have to hide your anger with me, eh, Hank. I can smell it. It comes off of you like the sweat on a man's brow." That devilish smile had returned. "Besides, it's no bloody fun to threaten a chap who doesn't react accordingly, eh?" He laughed and pushed Hank's shoulder as if they were old friends and he'd just told a funny joke. Hank didn't change his expression. After a moment, Draper's smile melted into a sneer of anger.

  "Whatever you choose, mate. I don't have to see it to know you want nothing more than to stab my bloody eyes out right here in this parking lot. That's satisfaction enough for me." He walked past Hank back toward the church. "Goodnight, Mr. Evans. Enjoy your first day—I mean night—on the job tomorrow," he said and laughed without turning around. Hank stood there a long time trying to hold back his temper and the urge to run after the man and show him just how strong he really was. Instead, he took a deep breath, turned, and walked back to the blue Empire-assigned Buick sitting in the middle of the now empty parking lot.

  All the lights were on in the house again when Hank came in through the front door. Toby's door was shut, and loud but muffled music came from the room as if it were playing under water.

  Hank set his keys and cell phone down on the end table as he walked by and headed for Toby's door. He knocked once and waited, but the boy didn't answer. From almost the moment they moved into the house, Toby had been spending more and more hours in his room like this. Bass vibrated through the door at Hank. He knocked harder and louder.

  "Toby?"

  The music cut completely. The door flung open and Toby stood there staring at Hank as if his father had punched him in the face.

  "What?"

  "I just wanted to say hi before you have to go to bed and that I'll miss you while I'm gone. Dustin texted me earlier and he'll be waiting here when you get home from school."

  "Great. Have fun in Fuckropolis!"

  The door slammed in Hank's face. He was equally shocked and unable to keep from snickering at his son's remark. Yet, the sting in the boy's voice still crept under his skin and left a twinge of emotion beneath it all. He sighed and stared at the door a while longer before heading back to his own room. He had a lot of thinking to do before the sun came back up. Best to get started as soon as humanly possible. Not that his brain was that slow now. The blood had already made some fairly drastic changes to his body that didn't seem to go away even when he was late to keep up on his "daily dose."

  Still, he worried about the boy. He couldn't tell Dustin about Draper any more than he could tell him about the blood or his new assignment. He was about to start packing his clothes when the Emperor's voice spoke inside his ears for the first time.

  Chapter 5

  A Heavy Burden

  Ishan sat at the head of the table waiting for Simon to arrive. Internally, he could experience input from any of Simon's senses at will, but he'd been trying to give Simon his privacy as lately there seemed to be a lot of friction growing between the two of them. After 2000 years of various different life experiences, this linking of minds between he and Simon was far different than anything he'd ever been through before.

  Stanislov sat to Ishan's right, tapping his finger on the table as a warm breeze gently stirred the thick brown hair on his face. The lights of the city cast a light neon glow on the somewhat reflective surface of the table. Edgar cleared his throat from the other end of the table.

  "Should we carry on without him, Master?"

  "No, give him another moment. In the meantime go ahead and tell me about what the scouting party found."

  Edgar gave Ishan a nervous glance, looking as though he had just impossibly aged another decade.

  "Boris and Rachel's remains were found."

  Ishan tensed, unsurprised and yet shocked. Emotionally shocked.

  "Our analysis of the ashes were inconclusive as to whether they died before the sun rose, but there is very little trace evidence of blood, so it's at least conclusive there was some major blood loss. Just like the others."

  "Are you telling me they might have been drained?"

  Edgar sat in silence.

  A coldness passed over Ishan as the loss fully registered. Although he wasn't sure if she had kept loyal to him or not, he still couldn't hold back his feelings for Rachel. If it weren't for the Queen, things would have been different. But that was a thought best left behind. Especially now that he knew she was dead.

  Simon rushed through the glass door then. He walked to the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

  "Sorry I'm late. What else did the scouting party find?" Ishan needed a moment to soak in Rachel's death and Simon knew it would be best to move on with important matters.

  "Very little. Trace evidence of Mr. Evans and his escort mostly," Edgar said, his throat tightening around that last word.

  "Mostly?" Ishan's voice whispered, his eyes glaring into Edgar’s.

  "Well, sir, we did find signs of a struggle."

  "What signs?" Simon asked as Ishan's jaw clenched.

  “Several dried pools of Mr. Evan's blood were found near Rachel's ashes. And no evidence of a third party." Edgar coughed to punctuate his sentence.

  Ishan stiffened and Simon knew it was time to move on to other things.

  "I think it's time to shift gears. There's the issue of this girl that keeps getting put off."

  Stanislov seemed to harden in his seat as his fist came down to strike the table. His other hand came up with a large sausage-like finger pointing at Simon's face.

  "And just what have you contributed the past few council meetings to do anything about that?"

  Simon opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Ishan spoke up for him.

  "I'll be the first to admit disappointment in Simon's lack of participation, but Simon is doing something to keep this council meeting moving and I see that as a welcome change." At that Stanislov sat back in his seat, his body still tight as a drum. But he made no attempt to argue nonetheless.

  "Well, personally, I don't understand why you haven't already sent her on her way out into the desert, master. She's a useless child and an insufferable brat. She's managed to waste her time as a fledgling only groveling and whining. She has done little to attempt adjusting to the new life she's been given," Edgar said and sighed.

  Simon's face turned a sharp red.

  "The ancestors have made their choice. And whatever the Queen may have behind it, she must have a reason," Ishan said. "If the fledgling will not choose to do something with her life then the choice will be taken from her."

  "What do you suggest, master?"

  "Put her to work. A few weeks on the restoration team should give her a sense of discipline."

  Edgar smiled. "Indeed, sir. It would be my pleasure."

  Ishan was getting back into a rhythm now. "Isingoma's latest results have yielded no new breakthroughs. All 12 subjects died within minutes of ingesting the ancestor blood. Each one represented a different biological history, including samples from various regions, races, and blood types. All with the same result. Almost instant death. It is my opinion that we must do all we can in our power to peacefully encourage Mr. Evans to submit to some testing to help us single out what has made him so unique, what it is in his body that allowed him to survive. I refuse to believe he is the only human being who can survive let alone reap the rewards of drinking the blood."

  The three other vampires only nodded. But Simon spoke to Ishan with their connected minds. I think it would be wise to keep the Queen's “information" about Evans to ourselves for now. It might affect our meeting with him negatively. Ishan's agreement went unspoken externally and internally, but Simon knew it was there. Often, Ishan had shown himself to be even more expressive by expressing nothing at all.

  "Does anyone else have anything to add to this session?"
Ishan asked.

  The others shook their heads in that detached, lightning, efficient way.

  "No questions? Okay. This meeting is adjourned."

  And with that Ishan was gone. Only Simon saw his movements.

  * * *

  Ishan stood within the shadow of the giant welcome sign that bordered the eastern edge of the city. Tears streamed down his face as he looked out into the desert, longing to run free of the place. If he went no one could stop him of course. He could even return most likely unnoticed. But he had battled with this impulse before. The risk was still too great. Only when the time was right would he make his move. He longed for the touch of his queen and the reassurance that came with it. He wondered how long it would take for Simon to realize that he had learned how to block Simon's side of the connection. So far, he'd been careful to keep these moments of relief few and far between and as short as possible. But this time he needed more. He would risk having to explain and possibly argue with Simon for this one time. Even if that meant he would have to teach Simon how to do it himself.

  No, the Queen's voice spoke in his head. It's too soon. He is not ready to have privacy yet. You know the doubt that still lingers within him. He doesn't yet know his place.

  The sound of her voice in Ishan's head made the longing grow. He lifted his foot to take that final step that would take him over the boundary of the city. A feeling of weightlessness hit him before he could even set his foot down. He landed about a hundred feet back from where he had been, his body lying in the crater of grass and concrete its impact had made.

  You have much more self control than this, young one. Show it. I didn't call upon you to have you mourn and make foolish decisions.

  Then why have you called on me?

  I’ve called on you to heed warning. The one who was Penitent and become Mediator will come bearing a heavy burden. Until the time is right, do not show him your trust.

  But you've told me his future. You've told me his importance. How could I see him as anything but an ally?

  An ally he remains, young one. But his hands are bound by the Emperor. I sense something weighing on his heart as he changes his mind many times each day.

  If his loyalty is questionable, we don't have a chance.

  The Queen's laughter filled Ishan's head. Since when do you put so little faith in your mother? In your lover?

  Ishan was stricken then. He knew beyond reason that the Queen would never lie to him. But he couldn't help feeling unsure at just how much truth she would tell him, either. A terrible pressure squeezed his temples.

  You would be wise to remember that while you may be able to hide your thoughts from Simon, you are unable to hide them from me. Remember, my love. I need no arm to reach you. I need no means to find you. I need no mouth to drain every last drop of blood from your body. You are my chosen and I can un-choose.

  A deep bitterness and despair overtook every bone in Ishan's body. No. Please, my love, forgive me. Drain me if you must, but please, please do not un-choose me.

  Goodnight, my love.

  Ishan lay there a long time holding himself; metaphorically trying to keep himself warm from the Queen's icy threats. Without her, each century would be an empty shell of time. He couldn't go back to that place again. Wouldn't. He closed his eyes as wind began to gust and blow a wall of sand above him and into the city. He let his thoughts stray to what she had told him of Hank. He hadn't respected another human being so much since his father had left the earth so many centuries ago. And the Queen had told him Hank's future. She knew what he would go on to do. What he would choose. She had shown him from her very own vision the day in the future when he would decide to lead them. All of them. Vampire and human. When he would lead them against the Empire. When he would make the decision himself to go after the Emperor, personally.

  Ishan felt another awareness then.

  Simon.

  What the hell happened? Are you okay, Ishan? Ishan didn't answer. He could feel Simon searching his senses then searching his mind. What the hell happened to you? I've been unable to sense you for hours now. Why are you so close to the city limits. And what the fuck happened to the connection? Ishan continued to sulk as he lay there. He no longer had the energy to block Simon and now he no longer cared.

  Fine. Don't say anything. Leave me in the dark. But when you've had your little hissy fit, you'd better start explaining. I don't have any other reason to be here but you. You take that away and why should I bother staying in this city? Or even staying alive? Ishan could see the image in his head then of Simon standing in the desert waiting as the first light of dawn spilled out over the horizon and scorched every inch of Simon's flesh.

  Don't threaten me with such things, Simon. Give me some time. Then we can talk. But for now I need to be left to myself.

  Fine, take your goddamn privacy and shove it.

  Chapter 6

  The Sins of the Father

  "When you arrive at the airport you will be provided a briefcase by Imperial personnel," The Emperor's voice announced in Hank's ear. Hank picked up the pen sitting on the table in front of him and began to write as he continued to stare at the wall in front of him. He had a habit of staring at the wall lately when he needed to concentrate. "In this briefcase you will find—Write this down, Mr. Evans."

  "I am, sir." Hank said and looked down at the page.

  "Very well. In this briefcase you will find several dozen small electrical devices and a map. You will take these devices and place them in the strategic locations marked in red on the map. Do you understand this, Mr. Evans?" The Emperor's voice was especially boomy within Hank's ears.

  "Yes, sir."

  "Good. Remember the consequence if you should fail and let that motivate you to succeed."

  Hank sat there waiting for a long time, but the Emperor seemed to have ended the conversation. Hank ripped out the page he had just written on and took a long look at it. It was perfectly legible. He got up from the couch, folded the paper several times, and put it in his jeans pocket. Why hadn't he thought of it before? He went to the bedroom and started packing his clothes as he let the idea building in his head formulate. He wanted to make sure every possible hole in his plan was filled before he attempted to do anything that could end up jeopardizing Toby.

  * * *

  Loud, screaming rock vocals reverberated off the wall as Toby zipped up the dark blue backpack and put it on. A gentle breeze filled the room, coming from the open window behind him. He took one long look at the wall that separated his bedroom from his father's. He imagined his dad reading Caesar's Bible and planning his visit to Necropolis to negotiate with those monsters—those imperial guard dogs. Only they weren't guards. Guards didn't take the life from innocent people.

  Tears welled up in his eyes and he lifted his arm with exaggerated intent and gave the wall the finger, his hand shaking as he did so. Then he turned, ducked his head, and climbed out the window. He landed hard on the bottoms of his feet, losing his balance for a moment. Grabbing the wall of the house, he regained control and stood there for a moment looking inside, the bright light of his lamp inside contrasting starkly with the pitch black outside.

  That old picture of the three of them, Diana, Dad, and himself, caught his eye from the top of his desk as he slid the window shut. He turned and walked along the side of the house until he came to the suburban street in front. He looked back at the window and saw the silhouette of his father darkened within the yellow glow of his shaded window. Only a second had passed when he turned to walk to the road, he heard a disorienting burst of sound and before him stood his father grabbing hold of the collar of his shirt and pulling him close to the furious visage of his face.

  Toby gasped.

  "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

  "Wh-wh-wh... H-h-how did y—"

  "I asked you a question, Toby."

  Toby's confusion dissolved, consumed by rage. "I'm sick of you! I'm sick of what you're doing... and what you'r
e not." Toby's voice echoed across the neighborhood. Hank looked around at the other houses and pulled Toby along with an unreal strength Toby had never known his father capable of. He kicked and tried to swing his arm at his father, but Hank grabbed it with an ease that was unnatural for his size. Before Toby could say anything, they were inside the house and his father set him down on the couch and slammed the door.

  Shock seized Toby as he looked at his father. Something was very wrong with him. His movements had been too quick, too strong. Hank glared at him as he leaned down in front of the table between them. Without taking his eyes from Toby, he reached forward. Toby's body froze in fear of the man who was his own flesh and blood, who had raised him from birth. Whose murderous expression chilled his blood.

  His hand slapped down on the table and began fumbling around until it touched the pen. Eyes still glaring at Toby with fury, he lifted the pen and began to slowly move it across the paper. The world seemed to be spinning as he watched his father apparently losing his mind right before his eyes. When the slow scribbling was done, Hank spoke.

  "You will never attempt to leave this house again or I will send you back, do you understand?"

  "What?"

  Hank flipped the paper around and slammed his hand on the table again. The sound drew Toby's eyes to the sheet of paper in his father's hand. In messy scribbles Toby immediately made out the words.

  Act natural.

  Underneath the words was a crudely-drawn star and more scribbled words. The recognition of that single star sent a chill down Toby's spine. He read the words that followed it.

  Can see and hear us. U R not safe.

  Toby swallowed and jumped when Hank slammed his hand down again and began to yell.

  "I'll send you right back to that Imperial orphanage, if that's what it takes. I don't have to put up with this constant rebellion." His father's eyes seemed to be waiting, expecting something from him as his hand blindly underlined the words "Act natural" and Toby knew then what to do.