She made herself focus on the task at hand. As she picked up cables and wrapped them one by one, the sadness began to set in again. She held back the tide of emotion that threatened to come forth. When the wave finally subsided she continued winding the cables and grabbed all the coils she had made in a pile and carried them from the partition, her mind wandering. She had only taken one step into the walkway, when she almost ran head on into a semi-tall blond vampire with sky blue eyes wearing a black business suit. He was nearly middle-aged-looking by human standards. Jackie was distracted by the lack of blood scent from his cool breath.
"Whyn't you look were you're going, prick?"
"You must be Jackie White." The man reached out his hand as if to be shaken. Jackie looked at it and turned away from him, then walked over to the pile of computers and things she had removed from the "room," and tossed the pile of cables on top of a large computer monitor. When she turned, the man stood looking at her with a curious, uneasy expression and wiping the hand he had extended to her on his jacket.
"I see you continue to work hard to earn your reputation as a people person," the man said.
Jackie had to stifle a laugh. She didn't want to find anything any of these blood-sucking fuckers said funny. She wanted to hate them all. For what they did to her. For what they did to Karen... for what they wouldn't let her do to Karen—no, she loved her sister. How much longer would this bloodlust last? She walked back into the partition with a straight face and went for the toolbox, opening it. She could feel the man's presence as he leaned his head into the "room." As if he had read her mind he spoke then.
"You know I'm sort of a fledgling myself. Not much 'older' than you. My case is quite different than most, but I still know what it's like. I think... I think maybe we could help each other."
Jackie found herself staring at him. Wondering how anyone could help her now. But she couldn't deny it was a surprise to find out he was a fledgling. Could he, too, be waiting on his first taste of blood? It would explain the absence of its fragrance on him. "And just what do you suppose we could do? Vampire or not, you're far too old for me—"
"Nothing like that." His furrowed brow betrayed his frustration with her. "I'm talking about survival, friendship, just... getting by for Christ sakes."
Jackie turned away. She lifted the socket wrench and began removing the bolts holding down the first desktop. "Why don't you smell of it? The blood, why can't I smell it on you like I can everyone else."
The man coughed uncomfortably. "Actually, that's part of how I'm different from other fledglings. With you, it's your age. With me, it's my experience."
Jackie put down the ratchet. "Experience?"
"Yeah—look, it's complicated. Would you maybe like to go somewhere else and talk? It would sure as hell be nice to have a seat. We can explain each other's stories and then you can decide if it's worthwhile giving me the time of day and—well, quite frankly I can do the same. You're not exactly winning me over here."
Jackie was surprised to feel a tightness in her chest from the man's last words. "I—but I can't leave, my shift isn't over."
"Never mind that. I talked to Baldy the Wonder Prick out there and he said you could leave early."
Jackie couldn't hold back her laughter this time. "How the hell did you manage that?"
"Oh, I suppose I should introduce myself. Try this again?" He reached out his hand.
Jackie nodded, this time accepting it, a warm blush enveloping her face as she reached timidly forward and shook his hand.
"My name is Simon. Councilmember Simon Withers. I've met you before sort of—but I'm getting ahead of myself."
Jackie became even more confused and curious altogether. Simon smiled.
"Told you I was different. Come on, let's go. I know this lovely restaurant on the other side of town. It's called 'The Drop Off.' They're only open once a week, but it's an all you can eat buffet."
With that, Jackie erupted with laughter.
Chapter 8
Message Deliverable
A bland array of trees, warehouses, and orange cones blurred past as Hank watched from the backseat window of the imperial car. His stomach was wrapped in knots and he wasn't sure if it was his fear of going back to Necropolis or the fear of his son hating him for the rest of his life that was responsible. The car merged right onto the exit. Sam Jones Parkway. It had barely been a month since the last time Hank was on a plane—the day he was sentenced to die—and yet he was never truly prepared to go so high in the air. His stomach clenched harder at the thought of it. He unbuttoned his imperial suit jacket and took a deep breath.
"Ever flown before?" the driver asked, leaning his head to look at Hank in the mirror. Gray hair crowned his head and long wrinkles stretched down his face. He was quite a bit older than the other drivers Hank had seen before.
"I have. I'll just never get used to it." Hank looked back out the window hoping the driver would ignore him.
"Oh, you will some day, sir. After a few flights or so, there's nothing to it. Well, except the occasional bad weather flight. But you get used to those too eventually. Where you headed?"
Was this a test? He'd not to this day met such an inquisitive Imperial employee before. "Out west, Imperial business, classified."
"Oh you don't say. You don't look like a soldier, a scrawny thing like yourself."
Hank held back his tongue. He was strangely relieved to find his annoyance was distracting him from his anxiety. "No, I'm no soldier, all right. I'm more of a diplomat."
"Well, what the Sam hell they got you goin' out west for? Shouldn't you be going overseas talkin' to them A-rabs in the Middle East and converting them to the one true religion?" The old man lifted up his sunglasses and winked at Hank. Maybe it was a test.
"You speak with disdain. Do you doubt our Lord and Emperor?"
"Well, supposin' I did, it might'n be so bright for me to talk such a way to an official of the law and a fervent believer. But I'm talking to you, Henry Evans." Hank and the driver's eyes met.
So, they gave this driver my name. It's a test, has to be. "Do I know you, sir?"
"No, Henry, I reckon you don't. But I know you. There's a lot of people who know you now. Don't reckon I should say how and don't reckon I need to tell you why. But they know you just the same."
Hank's anxiety had returned tenfold. He had so many questions but this man was already in big trouble. And whatever information Hank learned the Emperor would learn as well. Did these people know this? Had this man sacrificed himself to reveal this information to him, or...
"Anyhow," the car came to a stop.
Hank hadn't even noticed they'd entered the airport. He looked around at the crowds of people going in and out of glass doors.
"I reckon I won't be seeing you again. Maybe when you come back from out west, you could meet the rest of the gang." The old man was smiling in the mirror, his eyes faintly visible through the dark glasses. Hank nodded slightly. The driver got out of the car and opened the trunk as Hank opened his own door.
By the time he came around to the back of the car, the old man was gone. Hank looked around just in time to see him being dragged away by two Imperial soldiers.
* * *
The plane ride went surprisingly smooth. Hank had managed to sleep for a while until the dream. It was her again. Diana. Rachel. One, then the other. Then both of them. Each of them held one of the driver's arms as they dragged his body away. Blood dripped from his face and bruises covered his skin. And at the last moment, Diana looked Hank in the eyes and winked with those red eyes. Long fangs appeared as she spoke, "There's a lot of people who know you now, Henry."
Her laughter echoed inside Hank's brain as his eyes burst open revealing the back of the seat in front of him. Several brochures and a menu were clasped inside the long pocket attached to the seat below the tray table. The intercom piped in then with the announcement for the final descent. Hank pressed the back of his head against the seat and gripped the ar
m rests as the plane began to dip.
* * *
"Gordon Hutcheson. What's a nice old prat like yourself doing blaspheming to an Imperial official?"
Gordon returned the vampire's glare with equal disdain. His bones had ached enough before the Imperial soldiers dragged him into this holding facility. He smiled, then took a sip of his coffee. The man who had introduced himself as Jack reached across the table and knocked the coffee from Gordon's hand. The cup shattered on the floor and hot coffee went all over the table between them, on the floor, and some of it splashed in Gordon's face, burning the flesh. But he didn't so much as flinch.
"Oh, we got ourselves a macho old cunt, eh?" Jack grinned as he got up from his seat. "Let's just see how macho 'e is now." Before the last syllable had even left Jack's tongue, Gordon lost all orientation. He knew he'd felt a hand on the back of his head before the world in front of him had blurred. Several loud cracks followed all at once. It felt like his head had been in a vise and tightened up all at once. He opened his eyes. The table top took up his entire field of vision. Several teeth were lying in a puddle of blood on the surface directly below him. His blood, his teeth.
"Now that we've gotten to know each other, maybe you'd mind telling me about these friends of yours, eh?"
Gordon spit, blood and more teeth spraying out on the table. "I don' hab any vens."
Jack shook with laughter. "Oh, I'm sorry, ol' man, what was that? I couldn't quite make it out."
"I said I don' hab any vens!" The vampire reached forward and grabbed Gordon's shoulder and squeezed. More cracking. Unbearable pain. Gordon screamed, blood sputtering out of his mouth. From the corner of his eye, he saw a familiar face in the solitary square window in the door. Gordon made the slightest of nods. The man winked and nodded back, then he was gone. Gordon sighed with relief. It was over now. He could feel his consciousness slipping. His tongue was numb. The toxins had been released. Gordon Hutcheson smiled a bloody toothless grin as his shoulder was ripped from his body. He'd successfully delivered his message.
Now he could die in peace.
* * *
The airport was mostly empty. Hank was not surprised that he'd been the only person getting off of the plane in Boulder City. He stood in the airport bathroom washing his hands when the Emperor's voice finally broke its long silence.
"I'm sure there are many questions going through your head right now thanks to your friendly driver. But I assure you, the most pressing matters lie ahead in Necropolis. Mr. Draper is awaiting my command to pay little Toby a visit. Don't give me a reason to make Mr. Draper's wish come true. Do you understand?"
"Yes." Hank's voice echoed against the white-tiled walls.
"Good. Make sure to keep this in mind when you meet with the council." And with that the voice was gone. Hank knelt down to the small black case lying on the floor. He unzipped it and pulled one of the cool vials from within. He took the entire contents in one swig, tossed the container in the trash, and took a long look at himself in the mirror. He would be in the city in just a few hours time. The only idea he had to warn them was a long shot at best. It was of the utmost importance he paid a lone visit to Ishan. But he needed an excuse that wouldn't alert the Emperor. He might have had one by now if it hadn't been for the driver. The man had said so few words. So few words that opened up so many questions. Questions Hank knew were the very reason the man had spoken to him. Had risked his life. Had sacrificed his life. And the old man never even told him his name.
Hank picked up his bags and stepped out through the open doorway out into the main hall.
* * *
The next driver wasn't so talkative. In fact he hadn't said a single word since he picked Hank up at the terminal. They'd been on the road for at least two hours now. Hank peered out the window at the setting sun and the tan-colored dust covering everything. He couldn't help but remember the last sunset he'd seen going toward the city. It had been only weeks ago, yet it seemed like decades. Tumbleweeds blew in the distance behind a thick cloud of dust.
"Have you taken other Mediators into the city before?"
"Yes, sir. I've been driving this route for the past ten years."
"Oh really? What did you think of the last one, if you don't mind my asking?"
"Oh, not at all, sir. He was a wound up fellow. I mean, I don't blame any of you for being so. What with how many of you have died. But I have to say, you're awful calm. Almost like you've been here before."
Hank fought the chuckle urging to come out. "Must be the happy pills I took to get on the plane."
The driver laughed. "Well, I'll say this much. I can usually get a feel for you guys and I've been able to tell when one of you might just make it past the first visit. And I think you just might have a shot, Mr. Evans." The driver grinned in the mirror.
Hank smiled back. "I hope you're right." He thought about what the other driver had said, what it could mean. Could there be others out there like him. Other people willing to stand up and fight? Hank was betting if that one man had been willing to give up his life to talk to Hank, there had to be others. But how could they know about him?
Chapter 9
For Hank
Toby woke up to the smell of breakfast cooking and he knew then his father was already gone. He thought about getting out of bed when the entirety of the night before came back to him all at once. Guilt followed. Had he only known what his father was going through, he wouldn't have behaved so aggressively toward him. He'd been angry, thought he had lost his father again. Only this time for good. Death would be better than his father becoming someone he wasn't. Someone so... wrong.
Toby's bedroom door opened a crack and Dustin's wooly black beard and brown eyes peeked in the crack.
"Hey Toby, you want some bacon and eggs?"
Toby fought back the storm of emotion threatening to overcome him. "Sure. I'll be out in a few."
"Word," Dustin said and winked. The door closed and Toby let out a long sigh. His father had left it to him to explain. But he couldn't do it here. It wasn't safe here anymore, never really was. As much as Toby had hated the place, it had at least given the illusion of safety for himself and his seemingly alien father.
He pushed off the covers and dressed himself, walked to the desk and opened the main drawer. The letter lying inside looked light as a feather but its contents had been a crushing weight on Toby's reality. And yet it had also been a huge relief. He picked it up, folded it, and put it in his pocket.
They ate their breakfast mostly in silence, Dustin reading something on his cell phone and mumbling once or twice, then giving a chuckle every now and then in between. Toby watched him as he sat eating and reading, stroking his beard between bites. He was a large man. Heavyset in an intimidating way that gave him the appearance of a bouncer or a security guard. People often gave him a fearful glance in public, but anyone who took more than a moment to speak to him could easily tell he was just a big teddy bear.
Toby loved him.
He hated that he would have to tell Dustin what he would, hated to have to involve him in something so dangerous. But Toby and his father's lives depended on it.
"You wanna go to Rhodius and play some basketball?" Toby asked and shoveled a bite of food into his mouth to at least attempt to act casual.
Dustin's eyes didn't leave the screen of his cell phone to notice Toby's fork shaking in his hand. "Word. Just let me finish my breakfast and then we can go."
Toby sighed as silently as he could. He'd been worried Dustin wouldn't want to leave the house until later that night. He picked at his food, but with the thought of all he had to explain lingering, his appetite was all but nonexistent. Dustin rose from his seat still staring into his phone and walked over to the sink, turned on the water, and set his plate underneath.
Dustin sighed. "Trust." That was Dustin's word for something obnoxious. He seemed to have a catalog of words he and his friends all said. He put his phone away and looked at Toby's plate.
"Yo
u better eat those eggs or I'll tell your dad you were mean to me while he was gone. I cooked those just for you."
Toby sat staring at his plate trying to bring himself to take a bite.
"Hell, I'll eat them if you won't." Dustin sat and pulled Toby's plate in front of him. He took a bite and started talking with a mouth full of Toby's eggs. "You doing all right?"
"Yeah, I'm just worried."
Dustin's expression softened as he continued to chew. "Yeah, I don't blame you." He took another bite. "He's gonna be okay, you know. He's been there before. I still don't understand how the hell he got out, but he'll manage again."
Toby nodded.
Dustin smiled. "Anyway, go get your shit ready. And don't forget to grab some extra dignity because I'm gonna murder you out there."
Toby smiled, got up, and went to get his things.
* * *
Toby sat with the ball in his lap in the passenger side of Dustin's SUV as they pulled from the driveway. He wondered if the car was a safe place to talk. He wasn't sure just how likely it was that the Emperor would have made the effort to bug the car. The more he thought about it, the more he realized he was being paranoid. The Emperor was probably far more focused on Toby's father. Still, he found himself hesitant to even speak.
Dustin started up his collection of bootlegged death metal music and turned up the volume just a hair. Loud enough to hear the music better, but not so loud that it could be heard outside of the car. Death metal was one of many genres of music outlawed by the Empire. Toby finally took a deep breath and began to speak as they pulled onto West Morris Street.
"Don't go to the park. I have to talk to you. I couldn't do it at home, I'm sorry. It wasn't safe."
Empire of Blood (Book 2): Fading In Darkness Page 5
