In the end, Kara decided to head back to her house. She’d put some coffee on and grab a quick power nap on the couch. She had the day off work, as did a few others of the Red Creek’s police force; today was Sheriff Morel’s funeral.
Kara thought about the wretched situation this funeral would be—the crying wife, the shocked officers, and the ultimate sense of loss. Morel had been a good man and he had not deserved to be killed by an evil bloodsucking sack of shit. Now that Kara had all but undeniable proof that there was a form of vampire responsible for his death, she was more driven than ever to try to do something about what had happened. And it wouldn’t be as cute or as melodramatic as “Buffy the Vampire Slayer.”
It would be violent and gruesome…and she was going to enjoy every moment of it.
Kara got home with that anger and rage welling up inside of her. Coupled with the fact that she was dead tired, it made her feel slightly sick. She felt a headache creeping up on her and her stomach was unsettled.
Kara put on a pot of coffee and crashed on the couch as it brewed. The smell of coffee was comforting and it helped her to relax. She closed her eyes, knowing that she’d wake up in about two hours or so; she’d never slept well on this couch.
“Kara.”
The voice jerked her out of her near-asleep state. Kara reached to her hip for a gun that was not there as she quickly sat up. She opened her mouth to scream at what she saw in her living room, standing no more than three feet away.
A naked woman that looked like a ghost was staring at her, smiling. She was built perfectly, her hips and breasts too flawless for the cover of any men’s magazine. She was beautiful but the translucent quality of her skin threw it all off.
“There’s no need to be afraid,” the woman said. “My name is Magdeline. I am a member of a group known as The Guard.”
Kara’s fear subsided and was replaced with awe. “The Guard?” she asked. “I didn’t think you made yourselves known to humans.”
“We typically don’t,” Magdeline agreed. “But as I am sure you have figured out by now, you aren’t exactly a normal human.”
“Of course I am,” Kara said.
“Well, physically, yes you are. But I have come to tell you something that has remained a secret for a very long time. It is something that involves you and the entire town of Red Creek.”
Kara felt her world slipping slightly. Oddly, she thought of “A Christmas Carol” and how Scrooge was visited by informative ghosts with thinly veiled secrets.
“Is this a secret that Saul and Jill are aware of?” she asked.
“They are aware of the secret but not that you are a part of it,” Magdeline explained.
“And what is this secret?”
“Among The Guard and those that serve directly under us, there has always been the knowledge that there was a group of humans on Earth that are known as The Marked. These are humans that were selected through their bloodlines and genealogy hundreds of years ago to act as a buffer of sorts between humans and supernatural entities should anything of evil power decide to act against the natural order of things. There is another group known as The Last Ones that keeps tabs on The Marked and knows their names. They have followed The Marked through the ages.”
“So why do I need to know about this?” Kara asked.
“Because you are among them. You are one of The Marked. And more than that, there are several others living here in Red Creek.”
Kara began to feel that she was slowly becoming detached from reality. There was a mythic ghost in her living room, telling her that she had long ago been selected to be part of a group that would fight the forces of evil. It would have sounded ludicrous if she didn’t feel an overwhelming sense of rightness at the thought. Her sudden and overwhelming desire to get stronger that had come over her after the episode with the Greelys suddenly made sense. Furthermore, the anger that she harbored for the evil supernatural beings that kept popping up in Red Creek was so terrible and consuming, it had scared Kara. She was almost glad to have found a reason behind her increasingly violent emotions.
Kara had spent the last three months feeling different in a way that she had not been able to describe—not even to herself.
“So what you’re saying,” Kara said, speaking slowly and carefully, “is that not only am I supposedly a part of this group you call The Marked, but Red Creek is hiding a lot more of them as well?”
“Yes. And I strongly believe that you are meant to be a leader for the group. We have seen how you handled things with the Bentons clan. You have the heart of a warrior, as I’m sure you already know. Those sorts of things don’t happen by accident. Many people are destined for powerful positions—humans and non-humans alike—and don’t realize it until they are thrust into specific situations.”
“I don’t believe in destiny,” Kara said. “I think it’s a stupid romantic idea.”
“I agree completely,” Megdeline said. “But just because it is a stupid romantic idea does not make it any less real. You see, there is something about each member of The Marked that makes them special. It’s what allows them to adapt so easily to this other world that The Guard oversees.”
“And what connection is that?”
“Death. At some point, you nearly died, correct? I believe it was when you were younger. A drug overdose, wasn’t it?”
Kara grew instantly defensive. She sat upright and stared daggers at Magdeline, not caring about the being’s power or source of origin. She felt violated, like this creature had gone traipsing through her head.
“How do you know about that?”
“As I said…the Last Ones have been watching the bloodlines of The Marked. And we work closely with the Last Ones. From the moment you chose to join the Bentons against the Greelys, The Guard began wondering if perhaps you were one of The Marked. Tell me, do you recall the incident I mentioned? Your overdosing on narcotics?”
“Yes. Although I have been trying to forget it for almost twenty years.”
“Regardless…you do recall it?”
“Yes.”
“And you died, correct?”
Kara stood up and walked to the kitchen where she pulled a beer from the fridge. She unscrewed the top, took a long gulp and then nodded. The coffee smelled great but it would not calm her like a beer.
“No pulse for two minutes and six seconds.”
“And what was it you saw while you were dead?” Magdeline asked.
“I honestly don’t remember,” Kara said. “I remember seeing shapes that I thought might be people. Lots of them.”
Magdeline nodded enthusiastically. “Anything else?”
“No. And besides…even if I am part of this group called The Marked…what the hell is it that you expect me to do?”
“Nothing really,” Magdeline said. “Just be ready. And visit a few others here in Red Creek and let them know what is happening.”
“So just spring this news on people and expect them to believe it?”
Magdeline smiled. “They’ll accept it much easier that you’d think. Even you, right now— you instinctually accept what I have told you, because you know it is the truth. It makes some sort of sense to you, does it not?”
Kara said nothing. She simply took another sip of her beer, eyeing the gorgeous naked ghost that was standing in her living room and trying not to break out in hysterical laughter.
“There is another thing, too,” Magdeline went on. “And this is something that not even Saul and Jill Benton know. They suspect it, I think…but they don’t know it for certain.”
“And what might that be?” Kara asked.
“The members of The Marked aren’t all here in this one little town by mere coincidence. Red Creek is one of about one hundred places across the world that has an interesting sort of position. It sits on what The Guard has always known as a spiritual vortex. It makes it a place that invites the supernatural. It is why, we believe, Isaac Benton, Jill and Saul’s father, chose the town for his
home when the vampire clans were forced to break apart.”
“So you’re saying that we all sort of happened to congregate here? That something drew us here?”
“Even The Guard does not speculate on the matters of destiny, fate, or what have you,” Magdeline said. “But we do know that Red Creek is a special place. I suspect that as you begin to gather up The Marked, you will start to sense it yourself.”
“So you want me to gather up other members of The Marked and tell them….what, exactly?”
“Just fill them in on who they are and how you came to know about them.”
“So tell them that we’re supposed to fight vampires and ghosts and everything else of that nature and that I know this because a naked woman’s ghost appeared in my house?”
Magdeline’s expression made it clear that she didn’t appreciate the sarcasm. “No,” she said. “Let them know that certain events have transpired in Red Creek as of late that could very well indicate that the services of The Marked may be needed. Make them feel needed. You humans enjoy feeling that, don’t you?”
“What I don’t get,” Kara said, “is what happens if they aren’t prepared? As for me, I’ve been training my ass off ever since the fight with the Greelys. I think maybe deep down, I knew something else was coming. But what if the rest of The Marked turn out to be fat housewives or lazy old men?”
Magdeline actually laughed; the sound of it was angelic. “Dear,” she said, “I don’t think you’ll find that to be the case. While you may not believe in destiny, there are universal forces that set these sorts of things in motion.”
Kara had a hard time believing this but said nothing.
“That is all for now,” Magdeline said. “Now, because you are human, you don’t have the ability to summon me if you need help or guidance. But we will be keeping an eye on you and will step in to intervene if we think it is necessary. We also have the resources of the Last Ones and they may be able to help you along as well.”
“Okay,” Kara said. Really, what else was there to say?
Magdeline gave a final radiant smile and then started to fade away. A gentle mist wrapped around her body and then seemed to squeeze inward. After that, she was gone. The only thing remaining of her presence was a slight chill in the room.
Kara looked to the empty place where Magdeline had been standing. She started to walk towards it and then, unexpectedly, she started to laugh. The absurdity of it all was just too much. She sat down on her couch and laughed uproariously, sipping from her beer on occasion.
As the sun rose fully, shedding soft light into the living room, those bouts of laughter tapered off. Kara went to the picture window that two vampires had come crashing through a little over three months ago, and watched a new bizarre day lay claim to the land.
4
In the late 1700s, Gestalt had attempted something very similar to what he was currently trying to accomplish in Red Creek. That attempt had taken place in Israel and had ultimately failed because he had been too ambitious. He’d nearly been captured by The Guard, but had managed to escape it all without them even knowing about his presence.
Back then, he had been attempting to spread a Rogue population over a fairly large area. He’d managed to create a dozen or so before The Guard had caught wind of his actions. He’d been quicker then, more bent on his purpose. Now that he was slightly older and had learned from his mistakes, Gestalt thought he had a better chance at finally getting it all done. More than that, Red Creek seemed to be built for just this purpose.
He found himself thinking about his time in Israel as he looked out at the field that the residents of Red Creek referred to as Filth Camp. Times had certainly changed but in the realm of vampires everything had basically remained the same for the last thousand years or so—and all because of The Guard.
How Gestalt loathed them. How he despised them. He often found it funny that the vampires that hated The Guard the most were Rogues…the very vampires that The Guard could not detect or control. Perhaps it was that absence of authority on The Guard’s part that allowed Rogues to hate The Guard as the smug bastards deserved. Gestalt detested them for the mere fact that they had the audacity to think that they could rule over not just vampires, but all things supernatural. It was infuriating. And they were here in Red Creek; Gestalt could feel them moving around, the lines of their ethereal framework settling over his skin like cobwebs.
He wondered how The Guard would handle the fact that within a few days, the Benton clan—the golden clan of the vampire age, apparently—would be destroyed.
Gestalt looked out to the field where his servants were lying in rest. There were eight of them now. He had not selected them for any particular reason. There was Larry, his first victim, who had stumbled into Filth Camp because he’d had nowhere else to go. And while he was extremely glad he had selected Paula, he had not chosen her for anything other than her being female and an easy target.
The others had been chosen randomly. They’d all been claimed in the last few hours, before and after his unfortunate little scene at the Bentons cabin. They’d be completely Turned and ready to do his bidding before the morning was through. That was another advantage to being a Rogue; he was able to control the rate of his servants’ Turning. The longer they spent Turning the stronger they would be. But Gestalt wasn’t interested in strength. He was interested in numbers—in shock and awe.
The sun was rising. There was no time to act right now, as newborn Rogues had an extreme vulnerability to direct sunlight. Gestalt walked into the field, standing in the center of the weeds. He lifted his hands and watched as his new servants slowly sat up and started getting to their feet.
Larry was the first to stand up. He had adapted well to his new powers and needed no time to adjust to walking on legs that were now powered by something more than just the flesh and bone that his body offered. Paula was next in line and when she rose, Gestalt was once again pleased with the fact that he had haphazardly chosen her. He knew that she had a body that mortal men tended to fawn over but there was also something about the way that she carried herself, even in this new state, which spoke of sex and confidence.
As all of them filed past him, Gestalt held out a hand and took Paula by the arm, keeping her by his side. She smiled sleepily, her eyes still closed. At his touch, she sighed and her hands instantly began to caress his shoulders. She lowered her head to his neck and kissed him gingerly.
The others kept walking out of the field and towards the light incline that led to the forests beyond. He watched them go like obedient soldiers, marching into the shadowed realms of the forest where they would rest further until he summoned them again.
When they had nested themselves in the forest, Gestalt put his arm around Paula and whispered into her ear. “Will you stay with me while I rest?”
She smiled that sleepy smile again. “Mmm-hmm,” she said.
“There will be little sleep at first,” he said, biting her roughly along the base of her neck.
Paula squirmed against him and placed her hand against his chest. Her eyes opened slowly. “Good,” she said, her hands then sliding from his shoulder to his waist where she began to fondle him through his pants.
Gestalt lifted her from the ground and she clasped her legs around his waist. He started kissing her fiercely as he walked in the opposite direction, to a grove of trees away from his other servants. He tore away her shirt before they were in the cover of the forest and took one of her breasts into his mouth. She moaned and dug her nails into him, anxious for what was to come.
They entered the shrouded forest and she got what she wanted. He threw her to the ground and took her with brute force. For a split second, she was scared for her life but when he was finally inside her, the fear was worth it. It became a dark passion that she had only ever glimpsed in her life as a mortal—a dark sort of yearning and want based on a primal need that human limits would never have allowed her to reach.
Her screams of painful p
leasure went on for the better part of an hour and when Filth Camp fell into silence again as Gestalt and his servants slept, the town of Red Creek started to undergo a change that had been waiting along its streets for the better part of one hundred years.
CHAPTER THREE
1
Saul wasted no time. At ten o’clock that night, with the moon half full and the stars interweaving between passing clouds like scared children, he and his family headed out in search of Gestalt. There was silence between them, fueled by the tension of the last few hours. The shock of it all seemed to be behind them now, pushing them together as a unified—albeit slightly shaky—army instead of tearing them apart.
Jason led them through the forests, doing his best to follow the scent of the man who had promised him so much just a few hours ago. He hated the fact that he felt an overwhelming sense of belonging when he took in Gestalt’s scent. Jason wanted to find the Rogue, but not at all for the same reasons Saul and Jill wanted him to do so. He did his best to not seem overly-anxious as he led them forward, not sure of how he himself would react when they found Gestalt.
Jason smirked; there was a certain satisfaction in knowing that he could track Gestalt while Saul could not. It was a juvenile feeling, but Jason didn’t care. He loved it.
They were fifteen minutes into their trek through the woods when Nikki spoke up. “I guarantee you he’s staked his camp at that field that runs along the railroad tracks on the far side of town,” she said. “We’re headed in that direction and when you think about it, it makes a sick sort of sense.”
Jason was pretty sure Nikki was right. When he picked up Gestalt’s scent, he smelled something else as well; it was similar to iron and grease. He supposed that could be the train tracks and the smell of the train having recently passed by. He’d played along those tracks as a boy, balancing on the rails, but never going out into that field; his parents had warned him about the sort of people that often stayed there.
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