Empire of Blood [Box Set]

by Robert S. Wilson

  * * *

  Everyone at the table went completely silent the moment Ishan's hand grabbed hold of Stanislov's wrist. Hank's face turned a shade of white almost paler than the rest of them. Ishan had known that something was wrong, but he feared he would now find out just what that something was without any time to brace for it. Hank opened his mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out. His body began to convulse, blood spat out from between his lips and splattered Stanislov's face. The vampire twitched with desire, but Ishan's grip tightened and he kept himself still.

  Hank's eyes rolled up in the back of his head as his body continued to spasm. The others at the table could only watch as his convulsions increased and then suddenly and completely stopped. His body slumped forward his face slapping against the table. Blood leaked from his nose and mouth, dripping down and eventually forming a small pool of crimson around his head on the table.

  * * *

  Jack pulled hard on the window, bracing himself against the wall with his other arm. As he pulled, he could see the locks inside turning slightly from the pressure the window was putting on them. Finally they popped forward and released the window to be opened without so much as a squeak. He leaned forward and entered the open window.

  A large bed sat against the wall to his right where a young woman lay asleep and snoring loudly. Her dark, short, curly hair framed her red-cheeked face. Whatever she was dreaming must have been pleasant. Jack reached down with stealth, covering her mouth with his hand as he reached for the other pillow. Her eyes were like fearful saucers as he brought the pillow down over her face. Her struggle was long and hard, but she didn't make enough sound to carry beyond the closed door of the room.

  When she finally gave up the fight and fell into the darkness, Jack rose and wiped his face. A feisty one, eh? He reached down and closed her eyelids out of respect. Sneaking over to the door, he opened it gently. The faint sounds of a television crept up from downstairs and across the hall two other doors stood waiting. Jack slipped out into the hallway, his face twitching into a slight grin.

  * * *

  A muffled shriek tore Toby awake from the sweet vivid dream he was having about Kathy. He lay there frozen in bed, unable to build the courage to so much as pull back the blankets. The wind screeched outside blowing the tree limbs and their shadows across the wall in side to side motions. It must have just been the wind. But he wasn't so sure.

  He pulled the covers tighter around his neck. More than anything, he wanted to feel safe and get back to sleep. Get back to his lovely dream. He closed his eyes and thought about Kathy's pleasant features and found himself calming some. It probably was just the wind. He began slipping through the darkness, back into the vivid colors and sounds of fantasy. He smiled as he saw her face again.

  * * *

  The images continued to flood Simon as he ran. He'd been so preoccupied spending time with Jackie that he hadn't been paying attention to the meeting. And apparently Ishan had been so shocked by what happened that he hadn't thought to call for Simon sooner.

  Through Ishan's eyes he watched as Isingoma set paddles on Hank's chest and the man's body lurched upward like a dead weight being tossed. He felt Ishan's complete sense of helplessness ripping away at him. He had tried to heal him, but for some reason he hadn't been able to. But maybe, just maybe, the two of them together could do it.

  Ishan urged for Simon to hurry even though they both knew Simon was running as fast as he could, scorching the ground below him with the friction from his movement. The long white tower of the Stratosphere came into view as Simon turned onto Las Vegas Boulevard. He looked up at the tip of the building, using it as a focal point as he ran. He couldn't fail. Without Hank—he had seen for himself in the visions the Queen had shown Ishan—there was no hope of defeating or even escaping the Empire. If they couldn't save him, there would be no other way.

  * * *

  Jack slipped into the room without making a sound. The smell of adolescent blood greeted him from the bed at the corner of the room. It wasn't quite as sweet as those dear little boys along the highway, but it wasn't so bad either. He longed to make his presence known and give chase after the boy in a proper hunt, but his orders had been clear from the start. And if he was going to keep getting such sweet commodities in return, he could stand to let one go silently in the night once in a while.

  He stooped down close and watched as the boy slept deeply, a look of deep worry across his face.

  Such sweet innocence.

  He lunged for the boy's jugular, piercing it with slow deliberation. At the same time he took great care to put as much of his hand as he could in the boy's mouth to keep him silent. The child's teeth bit down into Jack's flesh, the sting of it invigorating him as if he'd almost gotten the hunt he'd desired.

  As the blood flowed more steadily, the child's grip on Jack's face began to loosen along with the pressure of his bite. Incoherent images and far off dreamy sounds filled Jack's head as the boy’s heart slowed to a stop and his body went limp in the vampire's arms. They were the first moments of earliest memories buried in the boy's subconscious mind. Jack relished them. Even in the youngest of children, they didn't always surface. He lay outstretched on the floor, closing his eyes and letting the memories take over his senses.

  Part Two

  The Awakening

  Chapter 12

  The Cave

  Darkness. Disorientation. Fear.

  A sliver of light cast in from a small hole in the now visible rocky ceiling. Long shiny stalactites hung like inverted trees around the blinding glow of sunlight blasting in from the hole. Hank sat up. He was still jarred from whatever had happened to him, from being in this new place. He stood, nearly impaling himself on a large stalactite. In the distance a much weaker glow was visible. A single pinpoint of light. Hank started to walk toward it.

  His first step brought several realizations to life. One, the sharp pain under his foot told him he was barefoot. Looking and reaching down for his foot he saw that he was completely naked. He noticed this with a sort of observational detachment. In the back of his head he knew he should feel embarrassed, exposed, vulnerable; however, no fear or anxiety surfaced and he simply shrugged the thought aside as a sense of wonder took over.

  He reached up and touched one of the stalactites. It was cold and clammy against his skin, yet surreal and oddly wrong in some way he couldn't place. He pressed against it harder with his index finger. His finger started to push through it. He observed this also with a sense of detachment knowing somewhere in his mind that he should be surprised, perhaps even frightened.

  He looked at the distant light again. What would he find if he followed the path that led there? He took slow careful steps toward the light, avoiding sharp-edged shiny rocks and small shallow holes filled with dark cloudy water barely visible in the shadowy cavern. Everything smelled strongly of salt. As he went, the reverberating sound of flowing water filled the place like white noise. Was it coming from behind the walls? Almost as quickly as he noticed it, he'd forgotten. He continued on, coming to a large open cavern more than ten times the size of the one he'd been walking through.

  "Hello?"

  His own voice echoed back.

  "Is anybody there?"

  "There...there...there..." the distant cave walls replied in Hank's voice.

  The light was weakening now, the pinpoint of it shrinking slowly. Hank began to pick up speed, stepping on an occasional sharp rock, cringing, and moving on, slipping on his own blood as he went. What if that light was the only way out. He remembered the crack of light he saw when he first awoke. No. Somehow, he knew that wasn't safe. Somehow, he knew he had to move forward. Had to get to that solitary glow up ahead. It was the only way.

  The closer he walked, the more treacherous the terrain became. The rocks grew much larger the further he came. He found himself having to climb them and crawl across to avoid the sharp hanging points above. The rough surface scraping against his naked flesh. And st
ill the glow ahead continued to fade. He was making his way, elbows and knees, across one of the rocks when the running water stopped, a deafening silence left in its wake.

  Then came the screeching.

  It was one of them. One of the ancestors. The high-pitched shriek echoed from behind him growing closer. Hank quickened his pace, scraping his knees and arms against the slick stone. Beyond the large rock was a clearing. He started to run. Another throaty wail spread across the cavern walls and Hank's foot splashed into a small hole and became caught, sending his body forward toward the rocky ground below and twisting his ankle beyond where it should turn. His body met the ground painfully. He reached back to pull his foot loose when he saw the dark outline of his pursuer. A pair of shimmering burgundy irises floated in the air, growing closer with increasing speed. The outline of the creature was black on lighter black like a poorly inserted special effect in an old movie.

  Hank freed his bloody twisted ankle from the rocky hole and immediately put his weight on it. He almost fell over, his body becoming faint and nauseated with the sharpness of the pain. Another echoing screech from behind brought him to full awareness and he pushed past the pain. Even though he knew he was getting closer, the glow was still shrinking. He'd lost his chance.

  Hank's feet went out from under him. His face slapped against the rock with a jarring crack. The darkness of the cave seemed to swim around him. Cool hands gripped his legs as clammy, lumpy flesh and soft coarse hair slid against his back. A chill of terror and a wave of excitement fought for dominance as he realized what was rubbing against him. Breasts. Icy breath brushed the back of his neck, sending a strong scent of mold and dead blood to his nose. He opened his eyes. The glow was still there, but disappearing fast. He reached his arm out toward it and felt only moist, cold air. A hand as clammy and cool as the rest of the thing gripped Hank's forehead and sharp fire pierced into his neck, sending his body into convulsions and blurring his vision. He could feel the fire spreading through his veins and burning his very soul. The glow was almost gone now. His only hope just out of reach…

  * * *

  Awaken, child.

  It hadn't been a voice, not an audible one. It was in Hank's head. Unfamiliar. Female. Husky, yet sultry. He opened his eyes. Blinking several times, he squinted hard from the light of the sun. He lay naked in a field painted yellow with dandelions. Sitting up, he noticed the land was equally covered in them as far as the eye could see. Thin white wispy seeds floated on the air all around him as he got to his feet. In an altogether different way than the cave, it was like a dream.

  A warm joy spread through Hank's every pore as he reached out with his hands and cupped some of the seeds. They were soft and willowy. He put the backs of his palms to his chin and blew the seeds into the air. The sky sparkled blue like sunlight reflecting off of the ocean.

  That was when he saw her. She was coming up a distant hill, wearing tight jeans and a western style button up shirt, her dark hair blowing in the wind. She waved to him and he waved back, hesitating at first. Her smile outshone the sun, hitting Hank like a sledge hammer straight to his gut. It wasn't real. Diana? Couldn't be. Unless he was... She was almost close enough to reach out and touch now. Her presence brought the familiar scent of sweet spice and vanilla. Without words she embraced him immediately, her arms clutching him with eager strength. She began to sob into his chest.

  Hank felt his very being melt into pure emotion. Warm tears streamed down his face, his body shaking as he squeezed hers in return.

  "Wha-what's happening?" he said. "How is this h-happening?" His voice cracked as he bumbled out his words.

  Her only answer was to hold him tighter. She nuzzled her mouth gently against his neck. Hank's eyes squeezed shut in return. Soft kisses touched his chest and moved up his collar bone. Diana's hands pressed hard into Hank's back and he felt himself stiffen against her. The wetness of her tongue grazed against the side of his neck. How was this real?

  A loud screech called out from the distance and everything changed. The sunlight extinguished in utter darkness. Diana's fingers broke the skin of Hank's back, clawing into him. Her mouth opened and two sharp fangs tore into his neck. He was down on the ground then, struggling to get away, but her hold on him was too strong and the pain sharpened when he tried to move.

  That voice came back, whispering in his head.

  Don't fight it, Hank. Many would kill for this chance to be with the one they love. Just one. More. Time.

  But it isn't her, his voice replied internally.

  Should it matter if it's truly her or not? It's your most desperate desire. To be with the one you love and leave behind the miserable life you've lived without her.

  No. Not anymore. It's impossible. There's too much I still need to do.

  Diana's head lifted then, red bangs tossing over her head in slow motion, blood dripping from her mouth. She was Rachel now. Her green eyes turned a dark, shimmering burgundy and her shape and skin began to morph even more. The fangs grew longer than any vampire's Hank had seen before. Her hair turned dark again and grew longer than Diana's had been. Her face thinned into an almost perfect oval. Somehow as her body changed, he knew that this was the voice he had heard in his head. As if to confirm this the vampire smiled and her voice filled Hank's head again.

  Good. You are closer to accepting your true destiny than I had expected. Her eyes locked onto his.

  There is no such thing as destiny. He struggled to move, but she pinned his arms to the ground.

  Oh, but you're wrong. Every aspect of matter has a trajectory it follows beyond its control. From the largest clusters of galaxies to the smallest element of measurement. Humans, vampires, we're all merely objects made up of smaller elements and yet we are lesser elements of yet another larger object. Your destiny is real and it will only be a matter of time before you live it regardless of whether you accept it to be true.

  Hank stopped struggling and relaxed his arms. Right...and this destiny, just what exactly is it?

  If I told it to you in its entirety, you would refuse it and delay its arrival.

  That sounds like something I would do. Hank grinned up at the creature. So, where am I? Why am I here? Did I die?

  Your destiny has not transcended death just yet. You are in a place of waiting. Before long you will go back into the physical realm. Toby is in danger. You will have a limited amount of time to make sure he finds safety. You will entrust my beloved, Ishan, to take care of this. It is the only way to save your son. She released Hanks wrists and leaned forward, straddling him still, and whispered into his ear. "But first you will see a glimpse of what you have asked for."

  Hank's body convulsed as the world around him, the vampire, the cave, all disappeared. Images enveloped him. He didn't just see them, he experienced them. Darkness. War, bloodshed, destruction. He saw the Stratosphere tower falling, its top shattering like a crystal ball. He saw what had to be hundreds of thousands of men and women rioting in the streets, fighting the Imperial soldiers, some managing to overthrow them while others failed. Ancestor vampires flew through the air with soldiers hanging from their teeth. Women and children were slaughtered. Shops exploded, roads were cratered, piles of bodies filled their oversized potholes. And in the middle of it all he saw himself...fighting alongside the rest of them. His face was tight with fury, irises a deep crimson, fangs extending from his mouth.

  Chapter 13

  The Sleeper Awakes

  When George Nelson woke from the darkness he immediately knew something was wrong. His sense of time for one thing. But there was something else much more concrete. Through a haze of blurry vision he could make out the white walls and the suspended television set. His view was angled as he lay in what appeared to be a hospital bed. The rhythmic beeping to his upper right-hand side confirmed that he was indeed hospitalized.

  He looked out the window. Waving in the wind with reckless abandon flew an American flag. At first he thought his sense of color hadn't yet returned
. But he remembered the streaking flashes of color from the TV. As he puzzled over this the flag straightened from a great gust of wind. Not only were the stripes of the flag indeed black and white, but there was only a single white star clothed in black.

  Movement from the foot of the bed caught his attention. George attempted to raise his head to see what it was. A man sat in a chair in front of the bed, sipping from the straw of a white Styrofoam cup and laughing as he watched the TV. He wore a long white coat and the top of his head was bald surrounded by a mane of short, bright red hair. George felt somehow disrespected by his presence. He cleared his throat to attempt to speak. The noise of the TV drowned out the sound of it. His voice was hoarse as though he had been screaming. Even the slightest intonation felt like his vocal chords were tearing.

  A strange gurgling noise erupted from George as he attempted to say something. The man sitting in the chair started at once and jumped from his chair. When he'd looked to the door and saw no one, he scanned the rest of the room until there was nowhere else to look but the bed. A wave of shock hit him when his eyes found George's face.

  "Well, I'll be damned to Necropolis," the man said. He yelled for a nurse and proceeded to examine the readouts on the screen of the machine next to the bed. A moment later a burly, female nurse with a large, dark mole on her right cheekbone entered the room and yelped when she saw George. Before long the room was full of doctors and nurses. Some of them tried to communicate with him while others stood marveling and discussing his state of health.

  As the weeks progressed he was given speech therapy and began improving rapidly. All the while he learned bits and pieces of the current state of affairs from watching TV. Eventually he was told it was unknown just how long he had been in the coma, but he'd already figured that out. From television George learned from the date that it had been 21 years.