Empire of Blood (Book 2): Fading In Darkness

by Wilson, Robert S.

  Fading in Darkness

  Empire of Blood Book Two

  Fading in Darkness: Empire of Blood Book Two

  Copyright © 2013 Robert S. Wilson

  All rights reserved.

  Cover artwork by Elena Helfrecht

  For Vickie

  Part One

  To Heed Warning

  Chapter 1

  The Assistant

  The bastards had starved Jack for months. They'd kept him in the isolation of his cell without any blood. It was bad enough before, just the isolation, but the blood had kept him centered. It was good blood. Not quite as innocent as he would prefer, but it still kept him strong. Then, one day, the Imperial sentry just stopped bringing it, stopped coming around at all. It was now July and nothing but silence had accompanied Jack since April.

  He focused in on the rough gray concrete and watched as a huge, panicked crowd of hundreds of thousands of microorganisms scattered at random across its surface. He heard the faint reverberated tapping of shoes against concrete somewhere on the floor above him. He followed them in his mind's eye as they entered the elevator. A clump of dirty shoulder-length hair fell from behind his ear as he listened. Whoever it was seemed to be coming down to his floor. The elevator door closed and the smell of human blood almost put him in shock as footsteps slowly became louder and louder. Then, for the first time in almost four months, he heard the peephole screech open.

  "Cellmate number 536637?"

  Jack looked up at the faint glow of light, his entire eyes black with bloodlust. "It bloody-hell sure won't be anybody else, now will it, you fucking prat?"

  The sentry sighed and went silent, save for his heart seemingly jack hammering in Jack's ear. "The Emperor would like a word with you. You're to be transported to a safe room to be briefed."

  So that's why they'd starved him. Jack wouldn't be much of a threat if he didn't have any strength.

  "Well, you can sod off and tell the Emperor that he can bloody well fuck himself silly! And while you're at it, get me some goddamn blood." He might not have any strength, but Jack Draper always had plenty of spirit.

  The peephole scraped shut and the sound of nervous echoing footsteps faded away. Jack knew when he had the upper hand in a situation, he'd seen it happen enough the past 500 or so years. He could smell it just like he could smell the blood in their veins. He caught himself then, biting his own arm again. He lapped up the two little crimson bubbles beginning to build and run down the small of his elbow. Fucking prats, the lot of them, he'd break even with them soon enough. The next bloody one of them to open that ear-piercing fucking peephole would regret it.

  But days went by and no one came. After the fifth day, he started to have doubts about the overpowering smell of bullshit and fear that had come from the last sentry. He went back to counting as he often did at times of lengthy boredom. 1,453,456. 1,453,457. 1,453,458—the sound of the elevator distracted him as it neared his floor. He came to immediate attention as something snapped in his senses.

  He could smell her. She couldn't have been any more than six years old. She was with him. He'd smelled that strange mix of aging human and ancestor blood enough times now to recognize it was accompanied by the Emperor. So much for transporting him. But why the little girl? She was frightened, but trusting. He could smell that too. His sense of smell had always been strong but he was pretty sure it had more than doubled since he'd been stuck in this cell.

  The peephole screeched that deathly pitch again and light spilled into the room in a thin, rectangular beam that spread across the floor of the cell and blinded Jack's eyes for a second.

  "Ah... Mr. Draper. Nice to see you're still getting along."

  "Sod off."

  "Now, now, Mr. Draper. Weren't you ever taught it's unwise to bite the hand that feeds?" The Emperor's voice was scratchy, but with a hint of playfulness to it.

  "Your bloody torturing me, aren't you? That's why you brought that lamb along, eh? Well, I can take it. I've starved a lot longer in shittier caves than this fucking rat hole."

  "Mr. Draper, I have no intention of... torturing you. Quite the opposite. You see, I've come to offer you this young lamb as a gift. A sort of down payment. And if you'll be so kind as to hear what I have to offer, I think you'll find this gift to be quite a small offering indeed. At least, compared to what I'm willing to offer overall. Would you be willing to hear me out now, Mr. Draper?"

  Jack was biting his arm again, trying to fight back the thirst. She was so innocent. So precious and innocent. And all he had to do was say yes, and even if the Emperor didn't plan to give her to him, he would take her. All he needed was for that slimy old bastard to open the door. The smell of death on him was almost as strong as the blood of that innocent child. It wasn't a smell Jack had ever noticed from any other living human.

  "You see, Mr. Draper, I'm in need of a new assistant. I'm finding it hard to find someone loyal enough to do everything I tell them without letting their own emotions get in the way, but I think—"

  "Piss off! You and I both know good and well you're no god. You'll get no bloody loyalty or worship from me."

  "Mr. Draper, I never said I was looking for a new acolyte. I have plenty of followers. I need an Assistant. And a loyal one. You needn't believe in my divinity to be loyal. It's very simple, actually; you do what I say to the letter and I provide you with more like her. Many more like her."

  Jack had torn a gash out of his arm as he listened to the Emperor’s words. He pulled his teeth from the wound and concentrated on the pain as his flesh began to heal. He was hungry enough to drain them both and thirst for more but something about that dead smell coming from the Emperor held him back. It was revolting. Human blood couldn't always be as precious as the rare, delectable drink of the innocent, but it was barely ever revolting.

  He found himself nearly as intrigued as he was hungry.

  "And precisely what is it your assistant does, Mr. Emperor, sir?"

  "A great many things. Not the least which would be killing. Lots of killing. Would you say you're suited for such a job, Mr. Draper?"

  "Bloody hell if I'm not. I suppose you've done some digging, or else you wouldn't be knocking on my sodding door, eh?"

  "Yes. I did indeed choose you with a certain criteria in mind. What do you say, Mr. Draper? Do we have a deal? All the innocent blood you can handle in exchange for being my loyal assistant?"

  Jack leapt at the door and put his arm through the peephole, stretching the metal opening. But his hand grasped empty air and an even stronger arm grabbed hold of his own and snapped it clean at the elbow. Pain exploded from his dangling limb as he stood stuck against the door.

  "Nice try, Mr. Draper. As you can see, I am certainly not in need of a bodyguard. I can protect myself just fine. What I do need is an assistant. And if you value your life, I'd suggest you take my offer before I take the pulse from your throat."

  Jack didn't understand. He had moved with the same speed as if he hadn't been starved but still it hadn't been enough. It took all the strength he had left and now he was spent. And still the hunger coursed through him, making him quiver at the smell of the child's blood. The Emperor held his arm in that broken position, preventing it from healing.

  "All right, all right, I'll fucking do it, you fucking bastard."

  The Emperor released his arm at once and let out a sigh. "You see, Mr. Draper? There wasn't any need for all that show of opposition, now was there?"

  For once in his long life, Jack held his tongue. When his arm finished healing, he pulled it back into the cell and rubbed it where the break had been mere seconds before. He heard an array of mechanical
workings from within the door. Then, they were abruptly cut short by a single echoing thunder of metal as the door visibly shifted from its locked position.

  Although Jack had set aside his ambitions to escape and would actually give this deal a chance, he couldn't help having an impulse to try and take a bite out of the Emperor while he had the chance. The door slid open and the Emperor walked in without a hint of fear or concern. The little girl appeared to be in some sort of trance as she played with a porcelain doll in a red dress and matching sandals.

  Jack watched her with black, watering eyes and his mouth went even drier with thirst. The Emperor leaned down and whispered into the girl's ear. She looked up at Jack and smiled. Jack shivered. She was so innocent. She was made even more innocent by the fact that she was oblivious to the danger surrounding her.

  Jack knelt down before her and reached his hand out to her. Her smile grew and she laid her tiny hand in his. He gripped it gently and spoke.

  "Now, what might your name be, little lass?"

  "Samantha," she said then looked at the floor shyly. She began to sway back and forth, still grinning all the while. So much life in her. So precious. It was taking everything he had now to hold back. But that's when he saw it. She looked up at the Emperor as if for approval and Jack could see then that he did have her in a trance.

  "Well, it was nice meeting you, Samantha. Do come back and visit some time." He turned away stiffly then and walked toward the corner of the room to show his denial of the Emperor's offering.

  "What are you waiting for, Mr. Draper? Isn't she just what you've wanted all these years you've been cooped up in here?" A good deal of impatience was slipping into the Emperor's voice now.

  "She is, but I won't have you brainwashing my food, eh?"

  There was a loud scream from the little girl and before Jack could react, he heard a snap and the screaming went silent. He turned to see the girl's body lying lifeless in the middle of the floor and the Emperor standing over her and staring at Jack with equally black eyes. His anger at what the man had just done overwhelmed his curiosity as to whether the Emperor really was a man at all.

  He leapt at the Emperor, going right for his throat. Before he could come anywhere near him, he felt two clawed hands grab hold of him and thrust him back into the concrete wall of his cell. The Emperor stood there holding Jack against the wall and staring right into his face.

  "I'm not usually a believer in second chances, Mr. Draper. But I'm willing to make an exception with you.

  "One.

  "I'll be back... eventually. Enjoy your little hunger strike while it lasts and I'll bring you another offering when the time is right. For now, remember this: I could have killed you twice and yet I have not. I have great confidence that we'll be able to work together, but I will only bend so far."

  He let go of Jack and straightened up his white robe, brushing it off and loosening his stance. "Good day, Mr. Draper." Jack slid down the wall holding his ribs. Caesar turned and walked out of the cell, taking care to step over the young girl's body as he went. The thick metal door closed behind him, returning the cell to its original state of complete darkness. He was sure then. The Emperor was definitely not human.

  Chapter 2

  The Mediators

  Hank knelt down in the mud watching the rain pelting Diana's headstone. His eyes weighed heavy with moisture from a mixture of rain, tears, and lack of sleep. He traced the letters of her name, his index finger, sliding against the wet granite. He felt the grief build up in him again and before he could stop it, he started to weep. A chill in the air momentarily reminded him of the outside world again.

  There was a time when he wanted to leave this life behind. But now, he had a new sense of purpose. He would do whatever he could to bring an end to the American Empire. The Emperor, then a powerful leader of the Coalition of Christian Militias, had led a civil war against the United States. He convinced over four million American Christians that the second coming had occurred and he was the son of God.

  Hank wasn't sure he could pull it off. But he knew now that the Emperor had a weakness. He'd known it ever since they met. It was the strangest of circumstances. By all rights, Hank should have been dead before that night. Yet, somehow he managed to survive. Along with 12 other men, he'd been sentenced to die in Necropolis. Lucky 13. For 20 years the Empire had been sending anyone caught breaking the criminal or moral laws to the city of vampires.

  He stood up, wiping the mixture of tears and rain from his face. Then, he shook out his mop of dark, wet hair, feeling somewhat lighter than when he'd arrived. There was something freeing about doing this from time to time, letting out the longing for a moment or so.

  Hank looked back at the Empire-assigned Buick parked at the edge of the grass, waiting for him. Being the only human to ever escape Necropolis alive had landed him a job with better pay and benefits than he could have ever imagined. Too bad it required him to work for the Emperor and go back to that place. The job was Imperial Mediator to Necropolis. The Mediator dealt with vampire/Empire relations. No one in their right mind wanted it.

  All of the former mediators were now dead, in one form or another. The most recent, he learned up close and personal, was now a vampire himself. These were not good odds. However, Hank had managed to make a sort of alliance with the head vampire of the city. That, he hoped, would help to smooth things over for him. Besides, even if he didn't want to, he needed to go back. The vampires were the only ones he knew in large numbers who might have the power and desire to help him.

  As Hank pulled into the driveway he could see Toby on the porch reading a book. He wondered then, how long would it be before the Empire took even those? A large number of titles from the past had already been taken or censored. New works to be published all had to be approved by the Imperial Communications Commission. He got out of the car, walked up to the porch, and watched his son for a long moment. Toby sat, immersed in his book, seeming not to notice his father.

  "Hey," Hank said. Toby jumped then looked up at Hank, his eyes narrow.

  "You could've let me know you were there before freaking me out," Toby said.

  "What? Didn't you hear the car?"

  "Yeah, I thought it was across the street."

  "I wish you would've gone with me this morning."

  Toby put a slip of orange paper in his place and closed the book. "I wish you would go see what Diana left for you." Toby glared at Hank then walked across the porch and into the house, slamming the front door as he went. Hank wanted to tell him why he couldn't go. But, he really had no choice. Even if the Emperor didn't kill his son, as he promised he would if Hank told anyone, Toby would be in danger if he knew. Hank sighed.

  It was a problem he couldn't seem to find a way around. How would he warn Ishan? How would he fight back if his enemy could see and hear his every move? The Emperor implanted a device in his body that wirelessly linked his eyes and ears to the Emperor's personal terminal. Everything Hank did was being recorded. What chance did he have?

  He walked into the house, straightening the clutter as he came through the living room. As usual, Toby's door stood shut and probably locked as well. Hank set his keys down in the tray. Then he sat down on the couch and laid his head back, closing his eyes. Something, he thought, something has to give.

  * * *

  As the first star of night sparked into life about a thousand miles away, the city of Necropolis was beginning to stir. Like the automatic gates in prisons, long since obsolete, each titanium door in the underground nest made a thunderous sound as it opened. All along the silver hallways of the custom-built underground bunker, human vampires of all shapes and sizes emerged. As with any other city, some had jobs to go to, some had errands to run, and some enjoyed doing nothing at all. But unlike other cities, all of them awoke at precisely the same second.

  The same exact second the doors were programmed to open. And they weren't alone. The Ancestors woke at this same time every morning, too. The Ances
tors, being natural vampires, had given the human vampires the gift of immortality. Those who saw it as a gift anyway.

  For Simon Withers, the matter was still undecided. He sat up at the foot of his bed, rubbing his eyes. He remembered bitterly, as he did every evening upon waking, how much his life had changed. He was still conflicted as to how much of this change was good and how much was bad. He saw familiar faces walk by here and there outside his door. More than a few of them looked in and nodded in the way the human undead do. Incredibly fast and impersonally. For immortal creatures, they sure worried a lot about time management.

  Simon knew he was likely the only one still in his quarters. The memory of changes brought a wave of despair again. Ishan had said there would be a grieving period. Simon had experienced Ishan's grieving period himself. That was how he knew that his was different. Of course, Ishan knew now, too. The two were still psychically linked. This was now nearly unbearable to the both of them. Simon wondered if any two people could ever get used to being in each other's head all the time.

  For him, Ishan's constant worrying about the city and the Queen made it impossible to think. Yet, Simon knew for Ishan, his regular first reaction to anything vampire, like a child with a bitter taste in its mouth, actually waned the ancient vampire's patience. Not much else could do that. After thousands of years of living, your knack for patience can get pretty big.

  Time to snap out of it, Simon. I need you to actually show up to the council meeting tonight. Ishan's voice sounded exhausted inside Simon's head. But of course he knew all too well why. He couldn't escape knowing, even if he wasn't locked inside Ishan's thoughts. Nearly half of the vampires had been working on the project for over a week. Ever since he became a member of the council himself.

  * * *

  Her eyes were red again. He'd dreamed about her for days and each time her eyes had been the same. Sometimes she was herself, sometimes she was Rachel. Either way, in the dreams, Diana's eyes always looked the same. He didn't understand it. Diana's eyes had been brown, Rachel's green. He had only seen one vampire before with red eyes: Ishan.