Crimson Born

by Amy Patrick

  “What changes?”

  “Don’t you watch the news?”

  “No. My community doesn’t involve itself in the affairs of the outside world.”

  Another loud sigh. “Right. Amish. Well, my community does—we don’t have a choice. If we don’t get organized and do something, we’re headed for the Dark Ages again. Vampire rights will disappear, and the Accord won’t be worth the paper it’s written on—no matter who signed it.”

  The way he said that made me curious. “Who signed it?”

  Kannon hissed a laugh through his smile. “You want an education in vampire-human history? Come with me. You’ll get the real story with none of the bullsh—”

  Here he stopped himself, beginning again, “...none of the crap. The internet is absolutely full of lies about us these days, and the politicians are worse. Come to the Bastion. It’s where you belong. You’ll be safe there, and so will your friend Joshua.”

  “Josiah,” I corrected.

  Oh. Josiah.

  I needed to get back to him before he went out and attempted to drink cows’ blood. I’d probably been gone too long already.

  Something about the look on his face just before I’d dropped below the window haunted me.

  “What time is it?” I asked.

  Kannon pulled a cellphone from his pocket. “Three a.m. If we hit the road now, we can just make it to the Bastion.”

  Hurrying to the door, I stopped and looked back with an apologetic smile.

  “I’m sorry. Tell Imogen I appreciate the invitation, but I know where I belong. I have to get back. Josiah is waiting for me.”

  9

  Demon Child

  Josiah wasn’t waiting for me.

  Not in his room, not, as far as I could tell from peering through the windows, on the first floor of his family’s home, which was dark and quiet.

  He must have decided the temptation of his parents sleeping so close by was too much. After what Kannon had told me about newly turned vampires and their lack of self-control, I was relieved Josiah had been wise enough to leave his house.

  But where had he gone?

  The barn. I ran to his family’s barn and scrambled up the ladder to the loft, fully expecting to find him there.

  He wasn’t.

  For the next couple of hours, I searched the surrounding farms, checking any place that seemed like a suitable shelter but found no trace of Josiah. I was at a complete loss as to where he might be.

  Worried and disappointed, I went back to the barn and took shelter in the loft, planning to renew my search when the sun went down again.

  The peal of the community bell woke me from a drugged-feeling slumber.

  Struggling to my elbows, I rolled over and crept on hands and knees as close to the loft opening as I dared. The placement of the sun told me it was morning. I stayed well within the shadows as I peered down at the Yoder’s house and yard.

  People were rushing around the property while others poured from the home’s front door.

  There were shouts for help, some loud crying, and a single scream. Two men I knew, David and Levi, emerged from the open front door carrying Josiah’s father between them.

  Correction—carrying his father’s body. Mr. Yoder was gone. His complexion was gray, and there was dried blood around his neck.

  Oh no. Please no.

  A woman—the minister’s wife—came out of the house next, rushing over to her husband.

  “They’re both dead. He’s killed them both. Sarah is there in the bed, covered in blood.”

  Feeling dizzy, I rolled onto my back again and stared up at the wooden rafters of the barn. Up in one corner, a spindly red wasp hovered over its nest, nurturing a new generation of vicious pain-inflicting creatures.

  I was one of those now—only much worse. A wasp sting would hurt, but unless you were particularly allergic, it wouldn’t be deadly. Vampires were.

  Josiah was. He killed his own parents.

  He’d been right. We were monsters. There was no place for us in this community. No place among decent, innocent humans.

  The hysterical woman went on, pleading now with her husband. “We have to leave this place, take the children out of here. None of us is safe. Brother Yoder should have done as Brother Byler did and expel his demon child from our midst. Josiah will come for all of us tonight.”

  Demon child? It took me a second to comprehend.

  She means me.

  Dull pain spread in my belly, making its way upward to surround my heart.

  “It’s all right, Rebecca. There’s no danger any longer,” I heard the minister say. “The boy has taken care of it himself. Look there.”

  That had me rolling toward the loft opening again, squinting into the bright sunshine to see what he was talking about.

  Holding his wife close with one arm, the minister pointed with the other. I followed the line of sight from his fingertip to the spot in the Yoder’s yard where he pointed.

  There, near the swing set where we’d played together as children, was a pile of ash.

  What is that?

  Even as the question popped into my mind, a dry heave rocked my belly.

  You know what it is.

  When Kannon had warned me to stay out of the sunlight, he hadn’t spelled out exactly what would happen if I didn’t.

  Now I knew.

  One of the village men stated the obvious as he inspected the charred vampire remains. “He exposed himself to the daylight.”

  “It’s for the best,” one of the others said, and several heads nodded in agreement.

  “He always was a good lad,” the minister said, giving an impromptu eulogy. “Perhaps a part of his soul still remained alongside the demon. He was still capable of remorse for the violence he committed. Now he is at rest.”

  And now I was well and truly alone.

  I had no family, no home. No community. No mode of transportation, no money. No job prospects for making money. I didn’t have even a high school diploma.

  How was I going to live? A thought rose to the surface of my mind.

  Maybe I shouldn’t.

  Maybe I should do as Josiah had done. In my case it would be a preemptive measure instead of self-inflicted capital punishment. I hadn’t killed anyone—yet—but in a way, I was just as responsible for the deaths of his parents as he was.

  If I hadn’t turned Josiah, they’d still be alive, and he wouldn’t have killed himself out of guilt.

  I tried to imagine stepping out of the barn into the sunlight. There was no one who would miss me. When they found my ash pile, at least the members of the community would say I’d done the right thing.

  Slowly, I extended one hand toward a ray of sunshine slanting inside the hayloft. As soon as the light fell on my skin, it sizzled—much more painful than it had been when I’d emerged from the culvert a few days ago.

  Snatching my hand back into the shade, I watched in amazement as the bubbling skin repaired itself and the pain dissipated.

  How had Josiah withstood it? How had he forced himself to stand in the sunlight until his body incinerated?

  He hadn’t just wanted to die—he’d wanted to punish himself.

  Deep inside of me, a tiny flame of self-preservation flickered into being.

  Something in me rebelled at the idea of giving up on my life, no matter how bleak it might appear at the moment—and it was pretty bleak.

  I remember thinking my life was over when I was turned, but it’s just the opposite, Kannon had said.

  Could my life still have some purpose... even though I wasn’t “alive” anymore in the traditional sense?

  There was only one way I knew to find out.

  Waiting until dark, I set off for the motel again, praying Kannon hadn’t already left without me.

  10

  Bloodbound

  We crossed into Virginia at just before five-thirty a.m.

  Kannon’s BMW was the first car I’d ever ridden in, and the smooth,
quiet ride and plush leather seating made me feel like I was flying on a cloud.

  “Why Virginia?” I asked.

  It seemed to me a group of vampires might be more likely to live in a big, exciting city like New York or San Francisco where the general attitude was “anything goes” than in a rural area not so different from where I’d grown up.

  Those places certainly seemed like they’d offer more entertainment to people who stayed up all night.

  “You’ll see when you get there,” Kannon said with a wink. “You know all those billboards that say, ‘Virginia is for Lovers?’”

  “Yes. I’ve been seeing them.”

  The lighted signs dotted the highway every few miles. Even the Welcome to Virginia sign at the state line had featured the iconic tourism slogan.

  “Well they might as well say, ‘Virginia is for Vampires.’ There are almost eight thousand documented caves in the Virginias, including ten of the world’s longest. One of those—is ours.”

  “Oh. I guess that makes sense.”

  My expectations sank a little, along with my excitement. The snatches of information I’d picked up over the years—along with Kannon’s luxurious vehicle—had led me to believe vampire life was rather glamorous.

  Cave dwelling was not what I’d pictured.

  But I guessed when you were basically allergic to sunlight, living underground was a smart choice.

  “Only about an hour left till we get there,” Kannon said. “You’re welcome to change the station if there’s some other kind of music you’d like to hear. Oh—wait, do you guys even listen to the radio?”

  In answer, I switched the satellite station to a classic rock channel and started singing along with the song in progress, ACDC’s “Back in Black.”

  It was an inside joke among Amish teens—an anthem of sorts.

  Kannon laughed. “Well okay then. What—do you have stereo systems in those buggies or something?”

  “Something like that,” I said. “We bring along boom boxes. Our parents won’t let us listen to English music at home, but we all work, so we have money. We buy the music and clothes we like and enjoy them when we’re away from home.”

  Feeling the need for honest confession, I added, “I only heard this song for the first time last year when I was sixteen.”

  Kannon wore an amused grin but didn’t laugh at me. “It’s a good one, that’s for sure.” In a low voice, as if speaking to himself, he added, “Imogen sure knows how to pick ’em.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing. You’re just not like her usual ‘recruit.’ No offense. I like you, kid.”

  I looked down at my typical Amish clothing. “What do people wear at the... what did you call the place you’re taking me to?”

  “The Bastion. It’s another word for fortress or stronghold. It’s like our headquarters and a sanctuary all in one.”

  “What do they wear at the Bastion?” I formed the word carefully, its unfamiliarity a challenge for my tongue.

  He chuckled and tossed his head in my direction. “Not that. Don’t worry about it. You’re fine. You may just be the first Amish vampire anyone’s ever met, that’s all. And hey, there’s a first time for everything, right?”

  “What were you like, you know, before?”

  “Before I was Crimson born?” he asked. “I was sort of like you, in a way. Not Amish, of course, but I was paralyzed too. I played college football at Auburn—wide receiver. Shoulda been a quarterback with a name like Kannon, right?”

  He laughed. “Anyway, I was hit on a play, pinned between these two huge defensive backs. Obliterated my spine. I was pretty depressed. There was no way I was going to ever walk again, much less play ball. When I finally got out of the hospital, some of my friends took me out to celebrate, or more accurately, to cheer me up. I met Imogen at a bar in Savannah. She offered me a job. Of course she explained I’d have to be turned first, but once I found out I’d be able to walk again, I was all in.”

  “What kind of job?”

  “I’m Bloodbound,” he said with a noticeable sense of pride. “We’re sort of like Jedi.”

  At my blank look, he shook his head and chuckled. “There are actually people in the world who haven’t seen Star Wars. Wow. Okay, well, how can I explain it? We’re sort of like soldiers, highly trained in battle, but we don’t seek out a fight. We’re like a peacekeeping force—ready and able to fight if needed, but we’d rather prevent a battle than start one. We serve the queen, do whatever she needs. One of our jobs is to go out and collect the strays—”

  He held up a hand. “No offense—the newly turned vampires. See, generally, when someone is turned, it’s an intentional thing. They’re surrounded by a community that helps them through the acclimation process—we’ve even got a special ceremony for it at the Bastion. But occasionally, like in your case, it’s more of a spur-of-the-moment thing, and the circumstances leave a few loose ends. Sometimes when a newbie is left on their own, it gets ugly. We have to track them down quickly and bring them in before they put us all at risk.”

  “Ugly? I don’t understand.”

  “They’re confused, thirsty,” he said. “They kill humans indiscriminately, or they make other poor choices when it comes to blood sources.”

  “Animals?”

  “Exactly. Either way, by the time we find them, the rogues aren’t always cooperative. Sometimes we have to use force to subdue them and bring them back to the Bastion for remedial training and sometimes for detox. If they’re too far gone, we have to destroy them.”

  The early morning horizon glowed with pink promise as we parked the car and Kannon announced we’d reached our destination.

  It was the kind of sight that would have filled my heart with joy and anticipation—before. Now sunrises had taken on a whole new meaning for me. Now they meant danger.

  Kannon and I scrambled to get below the earth’s surface before the sun’s first rays crested the Blue Ridge Mountains and burned through the famous shroud of blue fog.

  A faded sign near the entrance indicated the system of caverns in Northwestern Virginia had once been open for tours. Now, according to Kannon, who’d given me the history of the place during the three-hour drive here, no intelligent human would come within miles of it.

  He said in the height of its popularity, these caverns had welcomed more than half a million visitors a year. But after a series of mysterious and increasingly frequent “accidents” befalling tourists, the series of elaborate connected caves had developed a reputation as a haunted place, and business had dwindled to only a trickle of thrill-seekers.

  When even those brave souls had failed to re-emerge, humans had collectively decided to cede the natural wonder back to nature.

  And to the vampires.

  Kannon said they’d been moving in at greater and greater numbers.

  It did seem like the ideal vampire habitat. He told me this particular series of caverns covered sixty-four acres, and that was just the part that was inhabited.

  The complex network of passageways had been mapped as far as five miles into the earth, but expeditions still hadn’t managed to reach the end of it.

  “It’s perfect. Plenty of space for our growing population and an easily defensible stronghold against anyone who might try to breach it,” he explained.

  “Why would they?” I asked as we made our way down one long set of stairs after another—I counted thirty stories—before reaching a sloping ramp that ended in a wide chamber lit by wall-mounted torches.

  “I thought vampires and humans got along now.”

  “For a long time, they did. And there are still lots of humans who seem to have no problem living and working with vampires,” he said. “But things have been changing lately. There’s a growing anti-vamp sentiment in the country. Who knows? Maybe it was always there, and we just didn’t realize it. It really started ramping up when Graham Parker came on the political scene.”

  “Who’s that?”
r />   He shook his head, squinting a quizzical look at me.

  “You really did live a life apart, didn’t you? Graham Parker is a U.S. senator, and he’s running in this year’s presidential race. He’s got a surprising amount of support, considering how long ago the vampire rights movement happened. Apparently all these anti-vampers were just lying low, waiting for their time to come out of the woodwork. It’s been a little frightening to see actually.”

  “So that’s why vampires have been moving here? To hide?”

  He bristled. “We’re not hiding—we’re regrouping. Planning. Getting ready.”

  “Ready for what?”

  “The revolution,” he said as if it was self-explanatory.

  That was the end of the conversation for the moment because suddenly we were in a crowd. If there was, in fact, some sort of revolution coming, these had to be the soldiers.

  Every one of the men surrounding us was huge and clad in some variation of the leather pants, boots, and jacket Kannon wore. I might have been intimidated by their size and obvious strength if they hadn’t all been smiling.

  One of them slapped Kannon on the shoulder.

  “So the victorious warrior returns. How’d you ever manage to bring her in, huh buddy?”

  There was laughter followed by another teasing remark from a shorter, burlier man. “When I heard you were having some trouble with your assignment, I pictured you reeling in a shark. Instead you’ve brought us a guppy. This is what took you a week?”

  Kannon’s cheeks turned red, and he looked at the ground before looking up again and grinning at his friends.

  “This,” he paused for emphasis, “is Abigail Byler. And she needed a few days to warm up to the idea of leaving home. Abigail is Amish.”

  One of the guys laughed. “Gee, really? You don’t say?”

  I looked down at my plain dress and shoes. I’d given up on the bonnet once I’d stopped going out during the day and mixing with humans. But the style of my hair itself must have proclaimed my cultural background.