by Sky Winters
“Why would they do that?”
“Good question,” replied Vincent.
They took a look around the room to see if there was any sort of clue but found nothing. It was spotless; not a trace of blood to be seen.
“Where else is there?” asked Vincent.
“Just downstairs, in the storage room.”
“Then let’s go.”
They left the meeting room and made their way back to the stairwell. Walking with careful steps in order to not step or slip on any of the blood, they descended the stairs and, with hesitant hands, opened the double doors to the basement storage area. And before they could scan the room, a voice called out from one of the corners of the vast, open room.
“It’s you!”
Simone recognized the voice as soon as it finished speaking- it was Corbin, the gallery owner. She scanned the room, looking for him.
“Over here!”
Simone followed the voice, confused at the strange tone of it. Corbin was usually all-business, but now he seemed to be speaking in an elevated, exuberant tone.
“In the corner!”
They moved around some boxes and were confronted with the sight of Corbin. He was tied with a makeshift leash to a metal pipe that went from the ceiling to the ground, his hands bound. His eyes were open in a wild, searching way, and his mouth was lifted in a bizarre smile. On his neck were two puncture marks scabbed over with dark red blood, with faint, dry streaks tracing down from them.
“You’re back…both of you!” he said, his voice still elevated, and now looking at Vincent.
“Corbin, what’s going on here?” asked Simone, looking him over with worried eyes.
“Oh, the most wonderful thing, Simone. The most wonderful thing.”
Vincent took a deep breath as he watched the man, as though he were watching something play out that he’d seen many times before.
“You,” said Corbin, pointing to Vincent with a pale, wavering finger, “you and our people came and took the life from those who weren’t worthy, and took the rest to become one!”
Vincent said nothing.
“They took people? Where did they take them to? And when?” asked Simone.
“To their home,” said Corbin, as though pointing out something that was unspeakably obvious.
“And where is this?” asked Simone.
A grin returned to Corbin’s face, and he pointed towards the ceiling.
“In the sky, in the sky, in the sky,” he said, looking upwards with a wistful, faraway expression.
Simone turned to Victor, her face worried.
“What’s wrong with him?” she asked.
Vincent crossed his arms and leaned against the nearby wall.
“He’s been turned into a Drudge.”
“A what?”
“A Drudge. A human pet for our kind, basically. We give them just enough of a taste of blood, enough for them to get a glimpse of what it’s like to be one of us, just enough to get them obsessed with becoming a vampire. And once we start dangling that carrot in front of their faces, it’s easy to bend them to our whims.”
“That’s, monstrous.”
“Yes, it is, which is why it was part of the original agreement of the society when we arrived in New York to ban this practice. What you’re seeing is just a glimpse of what will exist in the shadows of the city if my people have their way.”
Simone looked away for a moment, a thoughtful look crossing her features.
“But why would they just leave him here?”
“Probably to torment him. He probably did something to get him on their bad side, and as punishment gave him a taste of blood and left him down here to spend his last days in the torment of needing something he’ll never get.”
“Jesus.”
Simone stepped back from Corbin and turned to Vincent.
“What can we do for him?”
“We can’t just let him go; he’ll get picked up by the nearest cop and shipped off to the nearest mental ward.”
Vincent spent a moment in thought before raising his hand, sticking out his fangs, and plunging them into his skin. He pulled his fangs back, letting blood spurt out from the opened veins. Corbin’s eyes widened with ecstatic glee, and he ran towards the blood, only stopping when he reached the length of the rope, which snapped tautly and pulled him back.
“Yes, please, please, please,” he said, his arms outstretched towards the deep, red blood that flowed from Vincent’s wrist.
Vincent stepped forward towards Corbin and extended his arm. Corbin’s hands latched on to it, and his mouth went straight for the running blood as though pulled by magnetic force. He sucked and swallowed from the punctures, his eyes rolling back into his sockets in a look of orgasmic glee.
After a minute or so of this, Vincent pulled his hand away, withdrew a clean, linen handkerchief from his pocket, and wiped the blood away, the wounds healing within seconds.
“Now, stay here, stay calm, and wait for me to come back. You’ll only get some more if you’re good.”
“Oh, I’ll be good, I promise, I’ll be good!” said Corbin, sitting down Indian-style in the manner of a well-behaved child.
Simone regarded the display with shock, and when the turned away from Corbin and began walking towards the exit of the basement, she shot him one last look over her shoulder and saw that he was still sitting in the same way, a beaming smile on his face, looking forward at nothing in particular.
“He’s going to be fine?” asked Simone.
“Maybe,” said Vincent, pulling open the door and letting Simone through. “He’s going to have to be weaned off the blood at some point, which isn’t the most pleasant of processes; he should be back to normal after that. But it beats what the elders had in mind for him.”
They ascended the stairs and went back out through the alley door.
Simone pulled her coat tight against the chilly, blustery air. The snow was beginning to pick up; nearly an inch was on the ground already, and the swirling, gray clouds above had only grown darker and more menacing since they had seen them last.
“Where to now,” she asked.
“Why, the sky, the sky, the sky,” said Vincent, imitating Corbin’s tone and walking forward, past Simone, who trotted up to him.
“What does that mean?” asked Simone, “some vampire airplane?”
“No,” he said, flashing her an incredulous look, “there.”
He pointed up, past the tallest buildings around them, at the tall, skinny tower of Four-Thirty-Two Park Avenue. One of the most recent additions to the New York skyline, it dwarfed nearly every other building on the island, and the apartments within were said to be some of the most expensive in the world.
“There?” asked Simone, unbelieving. “I thought you guys were supposed to stay in your zones, or whatever?”
“Well,” said Vincent, as they turned the corner back onto the street, “in case you haven’t noticed, there are a lot of rules getting broken these days.”
He pulled out the fob and unlocked the car, the deep red headlights flashing for a moment.
“You’re right- we’re supposed to stay in our areas. But us Italians aren’t the best at restraining our…ostentatious impulses. When news of the tallest, most expensive building in the city reached our ears, a few of us pooled our money together to buy one of the more luxurious apartments.”
The doors popped open, and the two of them slid into the car.
“And what’s going to be happening there?” asked Simone, fastening her seatbelt.
“Only one way to find out,” said Vincent, starting the engine, “but nothing good.”
Putting the car into first gear, he peeled out of his spot and down the street, the evening snow coming down in heavy, thick sheets, and the rear headlights of the car disappearing into the cascading white.
Chapter 12
The Mustang sped down the narrow roads of Lower Manhattan, turning here and there on the way to their destination in
Midtown. The snow was coming down harder, and the windshield wipers were doing all they could to keep their vision clear. As Simone looked out of the passenger window, she saw that the streets were more desolate than they had been when they made the drive over; people were starting to realize the scale and severity of the snowfall and were beginning to hide out in their homes. The streets were mostly free from cars, and they two drove in silence.
“So, what, we’re going to go up there,” said Simone, pointing to the skyscraper, “go up to the apartment where God-knows-what is happening, and, what, kill everyone there?”
“No,” he said, his eyes still forward, “not exactly. Not everyone in the Italian society is with the elders. I’ve spoken with a few, and we believe that our numbers are enough to stage a coup. Though only myself and few others sneak into the ceremony”
“You’re going to take out the elders,” asked Simone. “Then what?”
“Then we seek to repair the strained relationships with the rest of the societies in the city, not to mention the city itself. The police who took care of the gallery situation are surely well aware that something is amiss, and are likely making moves to prepare for some kind of vampire uprising. The elders are counting on being able to overpower them, and to install their own people, Drudges, most likely, in the city administration.”
They made another turn, and within minutes were among the towering skyscrapers of the Midtown area. The streets grew wider, and their destination loomed in the distance.
“And we’re going to need your help.”
Simone’s head snapped to the left.
“What? You never said anything about me helping,” she said, her voice rising. “I went from hearing people’s thoughts every now and then to launching people across the room in, like, a day; I have no idea what this power is, let alone if I can even control it.”
“You can and you will,” he said, making another turn. “Listen, I know this is a lot to take in, but you using those powers shows that you’re ready to learn how to control them.”
Simone was hesitant.
“So this whole plan rests on me being able to do something that up until yesterday I had no idea I knew how to do?”
“Listen, I believe in you. When the chips were down you, used your powers in the way you needed to, and I’m sure you’ll be able to do it again.”
Simone sulked into her seat, partially frustrated, mostly scared.
Vincent turned a few more corners, and after a time they arrived at a large, public parking garage, their destination only a few blocks away. Vincent took a ticket from the gate and drove a few floors up until he reached an empty corner of the place, and slid into a spot.
“What’re we doing here?” Simone asked.
“Meeting some people. And we can’t very well drive right in front of the building; the surprise is the one advantage we have.”
Vincent left the engine running as the minutes passed. After a time, two cars, just as fancy as Vincent’s, pulled up alongside his. Simone watched as a man stepped out of each car, one with the same slicked-backed, black hair and old-fashioned, but fancy dress as Vincent, the other with a shaved head and more a more rugged, military-style of clothing, wearing a black leather jacket, rugged blue jeans, and heavy-looking military boots. And even in the low light of the parking garage, Simone could see that they both had the same porcelain skin as Vincent.
Vincent stepped out of the car, and Simone followed.
“Jesus,” said the man who looked like Vincent, “it’s been a day since I’ve last seen you, but it feels like forever.”
“No kidding,” replied Vincent.
“So this is the little one that’s going to help us with the problem of your people?” said the other man, his voice in a rich, Slavic accent that Simone couldn’t quite place. “She looks like a strong wind could knock her over.”
Simone’s eyes narrowed at the man, his rough, but handsome, features in a haughty smirk. She narrowed her own, and focused her thoughts, filling her mind with the idea of a force pushing against the man. And as soon as the thoughts crossed her mind, the man was shoved backward by an invisible power into the side of his car.
“Woah!” he said upon slamming into the car with a thud.
“You need to stop running your mouth like that,” said Vincent. “It gets you into trouble.”
The man shook his head, stood up straight, and tugged on the ends of his black leather jacket.
“Fine,” he said, “looks like she’ll do.”
“Simone,” said Vincent, sweeping his arm towards the two men. “Let me introduce you to my friends. This is Anthony, another vampire from the Italian society; a friend of mine for decades.”
Anthony gave a brief formal bow before dashing into Simone and taking her hand in his.
“My dear, I just want to apologize for the events of the previous day. I hope that we can find justice for your friends who were killed by our kind.”
“Thanks,” said Simone with hesitation as she slipped her hand out of his. She appreciated the sentiment, but she was far from trusting any vampire that offered her the slightest manners.
“And this is Aron, a friend of mine from the Polish society.”
Aron wiped the expression of embarrassment off of his face and replaced it with a half-smile as he nodded to her.
“So, plan?” asked Aron, crossing his thick arms and leaning against his car.
“Kill the elders,” said Vincent. “Simple as that.”
“But we’re outnumbered,” said Anthony, his face worried. “You just want to march in the front door and start, uh, staking?”
“I’ve got something else in mind,” Vincent said, a slight grin on his face.
“I should hope so,” said Aron. “But I’m ready to start killing if you all are.”
Vincent nodded in agreement, and the four of them walked out of the parking garage and into the snow whipping winds.
Chapter 13
Simone craned her neck up as they stood in front of the tower, the top of the thin, rectangular building disappearing into the gray, winter clouds, and the swirling snow. She, like everyone else in the city, knew the tower and was familiar with the towering building and how it dominated the upper half of the Manhattan skyline. But she never thought that’d she’d ever go inside the thing. Pushing through the glass doors, the entered the glittering, luxurious expanse of the building lobby. Simone had never seen anything like it.
As soon as they entered, several members of the staff looked up in attention, trained to notice any who entered who was out of the ordinary. One of the men, a slim, middle-aged man in crisp, black pants and matching vest, a white dress shirt with sharply ironed creases underneath the vest, approached them with silent steps. His clean-shaven face was marked with suspicion at first, but once he made the scan of their clothing and recognized it as high-end, he warmed just a bit as he began speaking.
“Hello, gentleman,” he said, his voice gentle and professional, before turning to Simone, “and lady. How can I assist you this evening?”
“We’re with the Cremisi Group, here for the evening’s event.”
The man’s eyes widened as he looked over the group.
“Ah, welcome,” he said, becoming even more deferential and obsequious that he had already been. “You all seem to share their…look. And the girl?”
“She’s one of the guests of the evening,” said Anthony, stepping in. “Surely you’ve been told to expect several for the evening.”
“Of course,” the man said, “the rest of the group is already in the apartment.”
“But one thing,” said Vincent, leaning in towards the man and speaking in a lower voice. “Is it at all possible that we could take the service elevator to the apartment? My friend here is from out of the country, and I want him to be a surprise,” Vincent said, gesturing towards Aron, who tipped an invisible hat.
“Why, certainly,” said the man, “right this way.”
The ma
n led them through the high-ceilinged lobby which was decorated by massive pieces of art hat hung from the dark brown walls and modern art sculptures. It reminded Simone of more expensive versions of the art that her gallery sold. Important-looking people darted here and there, all in expensive dress, their faces serious, their hair well-coifed.
They eventually reached a side hallway that led to a small, silver elevator door. The employee tapped in a few numbers on the sleek screen next to the door, and the door slid open without a sound. The interior was wood-paneled and elegant.
“I’ll leave you to it, gentlemen. Enjoy the evening’s festivities,” said the concierge, gesturing towards the elevator with an upturned palm.
Vincent nodded to the man, and the four of them stepped into the elevator. Vincent pressed the button for one of the higher floors, and the elevator set off, humming as it rose.
A sick feeling began to well in Simone’s stomach as the elevator rose. It seemed too easy. Sure, she thought, Vincent did have access to the apartment, but weren’t they going to be expecting him? Didn’t they know that he had killed one of them? Simone felt uneasy as the elevator slowed and came to a halt.
“Just follow my lead,” said Vincent. “You’re here with me, and I’m bringing you to them, as requested.”
The door slid open, revealing a narrow hallway lit with dim light. The four exited the elevator, walking through with slow, careful steps.
As they walked, Simone began to believe that the rest of the vampires hadn’t noticed that they had arrived. This notion was dispelled, however, when the figure of a man in a dark suit stepped out from around the corner of the hallway. Simone could see, even in the dim light, that his features were more wizened; he was one of the elders.
“Is that Vincent?” he said, his voice clear and warm.
“Yes, Signore Nero,” Vincent replied.
The man walked towards them, looking over the group.
“Ah, Anthony, my boy, good to see you,” said Mr. Nero, raising his wrinkled hand to Anthony’s smooth face and cupping his cheek in his hand. Anthony responded by taking Mr. Nero’s hand in his own and kissing one of the large, gem-studded rings on his finger.
