Behind the woman, unseen, the door handle to the chamber turned. A slight pause, then the door swung silently open and a shadowy figure slid like liquid into the room. There was a sudden flicker of movement directly behind her as the figure moved into the shadows in the corner of the room and stood silently watching the woman as she absently brushed her hair, lost in some deep thought, seemingly oblivious to the intrusion.
Then without a sound the figure emerged from out of the shadows. It was a vampire, tall and imposing with long, sweeping, white hair. A tidily cropped, pure white beard framed his handsome face. He was dressed immaculately in a black suit with mandarin collar and white shirt. He crossed the room, moving silently toward her, edging closer and closer, seemingly unseen. Then, when he was standing right behind her, he slowly bent forward toward her neck. The woman appeared to remain oblivious, staring intently into the mirror as she continued to brush her golden locks.
The vampire, now only inches from her neck… brushed her with the lightest of kisses. Looking deep into the mirror, Kathryn smiled at his reflection.
‘Drameer, how long have you been watching?’
Drameer’s response, in his soft French accent, brought an even broader smile to her face.
‘For all your life Kathryn… for all your life.’
Kathryn smiled a coy smile and then looking round caught the concerned look on his face.
‘What’s the matter, my darling?’ She could hear more than a hint of concern in her own voice.
‘Overlord Karick wishes to speak with me. He’s called a meeting of the full council. It appears that the resistance have become more of a nuisance than originally anticipated.’
Drameer regarded himself quickly in the mirror. ‘You know Kathryn; I remember the first time you saw my reflection. You said…’
‘…That you couldn’t be a vampire, not a real one, because then you wouldn’t have a reflection,’ she interrupted with a smile.
Now it was Drameer’s turn to smile.
‘You were just a little girl then and totally fearless. Belief is a strange thing, is it not?’
Kathryn turned in her chair, crossed her long shapely legs and looked up into his dark eyes.
‘Father Matthew says that sometimes belief is all we need to make something true.’
Drameer flashed Kathryn a perfect smile, his incisors pointed and bright.
‘I’ll try not to be long, my darling,’ then he turned, crossing the floor to leave, however he couldn’t help but throw one quick glance back towards her before he closed the door behind him.
Chapter 9
The meat packing District
In was once the meatpacking district of New York City. Now the somewhat surreal, but very much alive, sound of goats and other livestock filled the air. Father Matthew walked hesitantly down the front of the warehouses that overlooked the Piers.
Absently he watched the small boats as they bobbed up and down on the thick darkness of the Hudson River. Men returning from fishing for anything they could catch, their nets patched and broken. Dead fish floated on the surface of the water, the stench was terrible, but the fishermen seemed not to notice. Father Matthew pulled his scarf over his face to try and smother the smell. His stomach was turning knots. He hated it here; almost as much as he hated the people that he had come to see.
He crossed to the nearest warehouse. Trying to project as much confidence as possible, he nodded to the large Vampire guard who stood, not quite out of the way of the doorway, forcing Father Matthew to squeeze through the remaining gap uncomfortably close to the creature, which just looked down at him and smiled, showing two large incisors with a deliberate and obvious relish.
Once inside the warehouse it took Father Matthew a few seconds for his eyes to become accustomed to the gloom. Although he had been here many times before it always remained a horrible and unpleasant experience for him. Inside there was some significant activity, with a large number of people moving about in all directions, seemingly very busy. Some collected boxes, whilst others cleaned the floors, or in reality moved dirt from one place to another. But whatever they were doing they all moved with the same mechanical movements, the same air of defeat and the same seemingly long dead look in their eyes.
To one side, at the far end of the warehouse, a line of men in grubby white coats grabbed rubber tubes and other paraphernalia from a stack of plastic boxes, in front of them people lay on old dirty tables. Others sat, or lay on the floor; all had tubes snaking from their arms with the dark flow of blood running through the tubes. Behind them queues of people with eyes glazed slowly shuffled towards the tables, waiting their turn. All in all Father Matthews guessed there was probably over seventy people here, yet on each side of the long line were just two Vampires; all that was needed to maintain control. As people completed their task, they clambered off the table and staggered weakly towards a cluster of rickety chairs where two nurses in dirty off-white uniforms were handing out small glasses of water.
Father Matthew gagged at the stench, closed his eyes and crossed himself without thinking. Pulling a handkerchief to his face and breathing through his mouth he marched quickly to the small office at the back of the warehouse, trying to ignore the pleading eyes that followed him, begging for his help.
The office was nothing more than a prefab oblong hut situated in the corner of the warehouse. It had a single door and two long windows, both opaque with dirt. A large vampire stepped aside and watched the Father closely as opened the door. Inside the small office, which was oppressive and hot, sat Josiah.
The windows were caked in muck. A thirty-year-old calendar showing Miss June, but little else, hung on the wall. Dull grey filing cabinets lined the back wall. The office was almost pitch-black at the far end, full of dark and endless shadows. Behind the desk, uncomfortably large for the depth of the office, Josiah glanced up, as Father Matthew entered, quickly closing the door behind him.
Josiah sneered, ‘Father Matthew, how nice to see you again, and so soon.’
‘Well Josiah, I did say I’d ehm... well, following our meeting, I’ve spoken to a ehm...a number of your workers and I have received some ehm... more complaints.’
Josiah stopped writing and spoke without looking up, ‘Complaints… from whom and about what?’
‘Well I’m not at liberty to…’-
‘No you’re not’ growled Josiah. He sat back in the old battered, leather chair with the foam pushing through the slit on the back, his thick arms folded behind his baldhead. ‘Look Father, the food factory is here to stay. Unless that is you would prefer us to go back to the, shall we say, more traditional ways?’
He smiled at the Priest’s reaction and his obvious disgust. Father Matthew stared at the uneven yellowing teeth.
‘Well?’ repeated Josiah. There was no response. ‘I thought not’ he finished, the smile turning back into a sneer. Then he shook his head, ‘Father, look, everyone is on edge. They say the resistance have started freeing people now, as well as stealing food, and that’s really pissed off the vampires, ‘cos they don’t like their property going walk about. Understand? Frankly it’s not a good time to be making waves, if you get my drift?’
Father Matthew tried again. ‘I understand, but could I tell people here that you are at least considering... well... making things more comfortable for them?’
‘Yeah, yeah whatever, knock yourself out, your comments have been duly noted Father, now get lost.’
Father Matthew stood in the uncomfortable silence that followed as Josiah returned to his paperwork as if he wasn’t standing there at all. Realising that the meeting was clearly and abruptly over, he turned, muttered some half-hearted farewell and left. As the door clicked shut behind him a vampire, completely unseen before appeared from the darkest corner. A visible shiver shook Josiah, despite himself.
‘Jeez, Zidtool, you give me the creeps. So what’s the interest in the Father?’
Zidtool smiled a lopsided grin emphasizing the lo
ng scar that ran from the corner of his eye to his edge of his lip. His dark hair fell over one eye, which did nothing to diminish the intensity of his stare. A stare that hovered on the edge of sanity and seemed to bore deep into Josiah tainted soul. Although slight of build he still managed to exude an absolute, feral authority. His eyes flicked down to the thin silver throwing-knife that span expertly between his long, elegant fingers. Then, as he picked up the pace, and the knife blurred between his fingers, he simply looked back at Josiah and shrugged.
Back beneath the United Nations Building Karick sat in a large leather chair, behind a heavy wooden desk, like some uncomfortable C.E.O. An unimpressed Voltan stood by his side. They were both staring at Mayor Cooper who knelt in front of them, trembling and staring purposefully at the dirty and threadbare carpet.
Voltan was the first to speak, stating the obvious. ‘You have kept Overlord Karick waiting.’
Mayor Cooper’s reply was almost lost in the large room with the high ceilings, ‘Master, my apologies, I was…’ he looked up at Karick his face red, large beads of sweat slid down his forehead ‘…delayed sire,’ he finished weakly.
‘And pray, Mayor Cooper,’ whispered Karick with an icy calm, ‘what was so important to cause this delay?’
‘The food factory Sire ...a small emergency, but I came as soon as I could.’
Karick stared at the figure before him as if trying to gage whether he was telling the truth or not. He stood and glided around the desk, his shadow engulfed the Mayor who was now visibly shaking with abject fear.
Taking his time Karick sat on the edge of his desk, leaving Cooper, who was not able to meet his gaze, starring at the soles of his boots. Karick watched as a bead of sweat dripped from the Mayor’s wide forehead and hit the floor. Cooper swallowed hard.
‘I have called a full Council meeting, Mayor Cooper. There is some unrest in the City. It appears that, in addition to food supplies, humans have begun to disappear as well. I’d like you to attend with the other community leaders so that you may provide a full update on the situation with the resistance.’
‘Of course my Lord, anything else?’
Karick sighed, ‘…only that if you’re ever late again, it will be for the very last time. Understood?’
Cooper nodded violently, his multiple chins wobbling.
At the abandoned graveyard in Brooklyn there was a hive of activity as men were busy making preparations for their meeting with one of the other groups of survivors. There was a nervous atmosphere as they checked their weapons. Above them watching all the time in silence from the high walls were the scores of watchmen that usually remained invisible. On one side Nathan and Trent stood together having a hushed discussion. Max crossed the open ground between them chewing his unlit cigar, a pump action shotgun held loosely in one hand.
Nathan looked up as Max approached.
‘Are your men ready?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, it’s all set’.
Nathan nodded, turned back to Trent. Max glanced across at the others and noticed that Jake had turned up. Taking the unlit cigar from his mouth, his eyes narrowed and he sidled across the street.
‘You joining us then?’ he growled as he reached his older brother.
‘Not this time’ replied Jake.
Max grunted as Jake turned his back to continue his conversation with a thin dark haired man who was moving his long greasy hair from out of his eyes. Jake paused, realising that his brother was still staring at him. He turned his head, raised an eyebrow.
‘Is there a problem, Max?’ he asked quietly.
Max changed his grip on the shotgun, his eyes narrowing and shook his head slowly,’ only problem is having a coward for a brother.’
Jake tensed; the dark haired man looked between the two men and quickly backed away, muttering something about needing to check something before they left. Jake turned to face his brother.
‘Yeah?’ Max hissed as they stood toe to toe, tense, their eyes locked on one and other.
Jake took a breath, broke eye contact first. Max shook his head, and then strode off past his brother, shouldering him into the wall as he did. Jake didn’t react as he watched Max walk away. Then Max turned and looked back at Jake, his teeth gritted.
‘Just like I said,’ he muttered with a sneer and then, not watching where he was going, he had to suddenly stop abruptly as he nearly walked into a scowling Megan. By the expression on her face it was obvious that she’d heard everything. Max glared at her, struggling with whether he should try and justify his actions or not, in the end he just shrugged,
‘What?’ he muttered.
He hesitated a second longer, as she just stood in his way with one eyebrow raised, then, feeling like a schoolboy that had been chastened by the teacher he shouldered his shotgun and without another glance behind him made off into the darkness.
Behind him a voice like gravel cut through the night air freezing him to the spot.
‘Max.’
Max stood where he was. He closed his eyes as he tried to regain some composure.
‘You know what Max,’ growled Trent when he reached him, ‘when we rescued the two of you all those years ago you worshipped him. What the hell happened?’
‘Things changed…,’ was all that Max could say. He couldn’t or wouldn’t meet Trent’s gaze, instead choosing to stare someway off into the distance, doing everything to avoid the cold, blue eyes that he knew were boring into the side of his head. This seemed to amuse the old man.
‘…People change when they learn the truth,’ Max continued through gritted teeth.
Trent considered this for a second, a thin smile drifting across his weathered face.
‘Some do, son, some do.’
Before Max could make a reply, Trent turned and walked away, behind him Max, anger now welling inside him, could do nothing more than watch him limp away after Jake.
The door to Jake’s house burst open and a furious Jake kicked a hole in the wall of the run down hall, screaming out loud, still angry he crashed into the single room he occupied, grabbed a steel jug and threw it across the floor. He punched the wooden cupboard on the wall smashing a large hole in the door. Finally drawing breath he slumped on his bed.
‘Feel better now?’
Jake span as he jerked to his feet, hands balled into fists, then, realising it was Trent, he relaxed.
‘I don’t know why you put up with it.’ Trent continued. Jake just looked at him.
‘Doesn’t the Lord tell us to turn the other cheek?’ he replied sarcastically.
Trent just frowned, ‘And is that what you believe? Is that why you wear that cross? He inclined his head towards Jake’s silver cross that currently hung from its chain outside of Jake’s coat, ‘So that you can crucify yourself on it, one day at a time?’
Jake felt like he’d been slapped hard; his mouth opened then closed, his mind trying desperately to think of some clever retort. None came. Sitting back on his bed, his shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes.
‘You know,’ continued Trent, ‘I was just saying to Max, when we found you both, he worshipped you, looked up to you…’
‘…That was before he was old enough to realize what I’d done,’ Jake muttered quietly.
‘Oh…’ said Trent, a hint of anger breaching his normal calm…and what exactly was that?’
Jake looked up and into Trent’s cold blue eyes, hardly believing the question he’d just been asked by the man who’d become the nearest thing to a father he had since he’d lost his own. Suddenly Jake found that he resented the man with every fibre of his being, his eyes narrowed as he watched Trent just standing there, leaning against the doorframe, baiting him. Jake stood, a coldness falling over him.
‘You know what happened… what they did?’ he hissed, his hands once again balled into fists.
‘I do,’ replied Trent, a sudden and tremendous compassion entering his voice, which threw Jake off balance ‘…and…’ Trent continued, ‘…if you hadn’
t got your brother out? What then? If you’d left him there, would that have made everything all right? Would that have made things better?’ Trent absently rubbed at his bad leg. ‘Or just got the both of you killed as well?’
They stood facing each other in silence.
‘Look Jake, my legs been playing up and Nathan wants to go on this meeting in person. I’d consider it a personal favour if you’d go and keep an eye out for him, would you do that… for me? Please?’
Jake looked into those steely blue eyes, sighed and nodded, all anger leaving him in a rush.
Chapter 10
The vampire Council
In the United Nation’s General Assembly hall, deep within the General Assembly building, seats circled the centre stage rising up, into the darkness. Where once there would have been up to eighteen hundred people sitting around the central raised dais, now thirty vampires sat at various points, many muttering in small groups to nearby neighbours.
Each of the vampires in attendance wore formal attire. This consisted of a black hooded top, with body armour underneath, it was a look which did nothing but make them appear even more sinister than usual. Most sat with the hood of their formal cloak pulled up over their head. All wore the glinting leather and steel body armour beneath their long black cloaks, something they always did when gathering on mass; such was the general lack of trust between them.
In the front row the half dozen humans that made up the human support league, including the Mayor, slouched in obvious discomfort, seemingly trying to disappear into their seats. In front of them the podium with the UN emblem still emblazoned above. Behind them the air was already beginning to fill with the sound of voices, rising like angry deep lunged wasps, magnified oddly by the large domed roof and vast empty space.
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