by J. Thorn
Three candles sat on a dresser with a pack of matches lying next to them. Dax struck one of them, lighting two of the candles and using another to light the last one. Leaving two of the candles on top of the dresser, he picked up the third and stepped back over to Papa Midnight.
“You guys stay here, all right?” Dax looked directly at Monica. “You all right with them?”
Monica smiled and nodded quickly, her eyes darting around the room as she chewed on her bottom lip.
“Where are you going?” Kevin asked.
“To the other room. You boys stay here with Monica.”
Dax took the blind man by the hand and dragged him into another room. He set the candle down on a dresser with an old-fashioned vanity mirror attached, and through the reflection, he saw another elaborate bed in the room, and it had the same netting draped over it. There was no doubt in Dax’s mind now that they were in a place fashioned to look like an old-time brothel. He turned his attention back to the blind man.
“What was that in there?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Dax grabbed Papa Midnight by the collar of his trench coat. “Don’t fuck with me.”
Screamers continued to bang on the outside of the house. Dax looked at the ceiling and then to the windows locked shut with a single brass hasp. He bit his lip, drew in a deep breath, and refocused.
“What did you mean when you said vampires?”
“I was talking about just that: vampires. You know… undead beings that feed off blood? Dracula? Nosferatu? Edward from Twilight?” The old man laughed.
Dax let go of the man’s collar and stepped back. “You’re full of shit.”
“Oh, but I’m not. You can call those things out there Screamers, or Yellers, or whatever little name you can come up with. But it won’t change what they really are.”
Dax turned back toward the mirror. The candle provided just enough light for him to see his face. He hardly recognized it. He rubbed the stubble on his cheeks and shook his head.
This dude has got to be insane.
“Please,” Papa Midnight said. “Hand me my satchel.”
Dax slid the bag off his shoulder and handed it over to the old man.
Papa Midnight reached inside and pulled out a bottle of whiskey—Jack Daniels. He went into the bag again and retrieved a plastic cup. He set the items down, then reached in once more to pull out a pipe and a plastic bag with some marijuana inside.
“Why don’t you have a seat and let me tell you a story? Then you can decide if I’m crazy or not.”
Chapter 5
Dax settled into a chair and accepted the plastic cup from the old man. The whiskey burned his nostrils, but he threw back the first shot and felt it slide down his throat to warm his chest. After the night he’d had, the whiskey brought a little sense of normalcy—two dudes having shots. He opened his eyes and retrieved the bottle off the bed. This time, he filled the cup about three-quarters full. He would nurse the Jack while the old man spoke.
Papa Midnight drank straight from the bottle. He took a swig, and let out a long, throaty sigh.
He then filled his pipe with marijuana, packing it in tight. He pulled the lighter from the pocket of his trench coat and lit it. The bowl of the pipe glowed a bright orange, and smoke swelled from it. Papa inhaled deeply, then blew out a thick cloud of smoke. The weed permeated the room.
Papa Midnight offered the pipe to Dax.
“Thanks,” Dax said, and he took the pipe.
Dax took a hit, feeling calm and relieved as he inhaled. It had been a while since he’d had a toke. Nothing calmed him like weed.
“Do you believe in God, Dax?”
Blowing a cloud of smoke into the center of the room, Dax leaned back in his chair. He stilled, staring at the ceiling as the smoke dissipated for a few moments.
“I don’t know.” Dax took another hit off the pipe and handed it back over to the blind man.
Papa laughed. “It’s a simple yes or no question, son.”
Dax rested his arms on his knees, leaning forward. He thought of his sister. Of Chloe. The image branded in his mind of Neil hanging on the wall in the old apartment building. He saw Serafino’s pale, dead eyes. He took a sip of his whiskey.
“It’s not a simple question. Not after what I’ve seen over the last few days. I did believe in God. But I’m not so sure anymore.”
The old man nodded and took another hit from the pipe. “I’d say that’s a fair answer.”
“What’s that have to do with any of this?”
Papa Midnight coughed and laughed as he exhaled. “Well, depending on your perspective, it has everything to do with this.”
He offered the pipe to Dax again, who took another hit and then handed it back.
“Tell me what you know.”
“Very well,” Papa Midnight said. “The legend of the vampire has been widespread throughout our history. It goes back far before the stories of the great Vlad Tepes. And like so many other ancient stories, the one told of vampires has morphed into many other things over the years.
“Somewhere along the way, vampires became bloodsucking aristocrats—totally unlike the monsters beating against the house out there. They became viewed as immortal royal. Vampirism became sexy.” Papa Midnight laughed and shook his head. “Now, the truth is, there is a hierarchy within their order just as there would be in any aristocracy. Though it’s not as glamorous as Hollywood has made it out to be. Those things you have seen outside—the ones you fought: they’re nothing but the lowly soldiers. Infantry. Their slaves, created from human hosts. They are in sorte diaboli.”
“What does that mean?”
“It is Latin for ‘in league with the devil.’ And now that the beasts have arrived, that army will continue to grow as long as the Masters are still out there.”
Dax raised his brow. “The Masters? Where did they come from and why are they here? Now?”
The blind man shook his head. “Too many questions and too much to explain all right now…Many people who know of this folklore believe them to be the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Some even believe that the original transcripts of the Bible have stated as such. But as the Great Book was passed down, it was changed to make God into a hero.”
“What do these master vampires look like?” Dax asked.
Like Serafino? Dax thought
Papa Midnight shrugged. “It’s hard to say exactly. The stories give many descriptions. Some believe they are towering monsters, like things that are only made up in movies. Others believe they will come to us looking more like humans—like any of us. Or even that they might be able to transform into the appearance of one’s loved ones.”
“And how do these Masters compare to those things I fought outside?”
“There is no comparison,” Papa Midnight said. “Those things out there—we’ll call them Screamers for your sake—are simply puppets. The ancient, higher-level vampires—the Masters—control them. They can see through them. Not like you are looking at me with your own eyes right now, but more like with infrared sensors. They can sense the heat of any nearby humans.”
Dax was silent for a moment as he processed everything. Even with all he’d seen—the glow in Chloe’s eyes, the way Serafino had taken complete control of Isaac, and the sharp fangs of the creature on the balcony—he still questioned how any of this could be real. He wondered if he would wake up in his prison cell at any moment, coming to the realization that all this had been a dream. That the power had never gone out. The city wasn’t underwater. His sister was alive, and he’d never seen Chloe.
“You don’t believe me, do you?” Papa Midnight asked.
“I’m not sure I know what to believe anymore.”
“I see.” The old man tilted the bottle and threw back another swig of the whiskey. He wiped his lips with his forearm when he was through, and set the bottle back down.
Dax said, “Let’s say for a second that I do believe you. Where a
re these Masters?”
“Lots of rumors about that, too. Not so sure you want to know.”
“They’re all here?”
Papa shook his head. “No, sir. But it’s possible that at least one of them has been waiting under our city for thousands of years, and for this moment.”
Dax thought of Serafino again. The more he listened to Papa Midnight, the more he thought about all that had happened since he’d broken out of prison. The old blind man didn’t seem as crazy as he had a few hours ago.
“Have you ever heard the name ‘Serafino?’”
Papa Midnight paused. “I believe the loose translation of that name would be ‘dark angel.’ But I can’t say I’ve ever heard of it associated with vampire Masters. Why?”
Dax tossed back the rest of his whiskey. Then he told Papa Midnight about his encounter with Serafino.
“And you saw him here? In this city.”
“Yes.” Dax grabbed the bottle and refilled his cup, leaving only a quarter of the bottle remaining.
“My, God.” The old man slumped his shoulders and stared at the floor.
“Does that mean that he’s here?” Dax asked. “What do you mean?”
The blind man looked up again, turning to face Dax. “There was something I forgot to mention. The four Masters; they are sworn enemies. The legend says that only one of them will reign supreme when they come to conquer the human race.”
“Motherfucker,” Dax mumbled. “So you’re saying we’re about to be caught in the middle of some kind of ancient war between these things?”
Papa Midnight nodded. “And it appears that that war has come earlier than anyone could have imagined.”
Dax stood. He cursed under his breath as he paced the room. He stopped near the chair and looked down at Papa Midnight.
“How do you know all this shit?”
Papa Midnight waved his finger. “A story for another time, friend. For now, I need to meditate after all that we have discussed. And I believe you have some younglings that need your attention.”
The blind man lifted the bottle of whiskey. “Would you like the rest?”
Dax stared at the bottle and shook his head. “Nah, I’m good. I think I need to let all this sink in.”
Kevin and Darius had already fallen asleep by the time Dax returned to the room after his conversation with Papa Midnight. For the rest of the night, though, Dax sat in the chair next to the bed where the children slept. Monica asked him questions about his conversation with the old man, but he declined to talk to her about it. Soon enough, she fell asleep next to the boys.
While the three children slept, Dax couldn’t. He needed to—especially after the whiskey and weed had numbed his body—but he couldn’t get comfortable. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw them—Gabby, Chloe, Neil, and whatever Isaac had become. He also saw Serafino. The creature’s malevolent smile and glowing eyes were ever present in his mind.
Dax thought that he might not be able to sleep until Serafino was destroyed. If that was even possible.
Sunlight illuminated the room a couple of hours later, but that wasn’t what woke the kids.
In the other room, Papa Midnight was chanting again in the same Creole French from before.
Kevin sat up and rubbed his eyes. “That guy really creeps me out. Does he have to stay with us?”
Dax patted the young boy on the knee. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
“I’m hungry,” Darius said.
“I know, buddy. So am I. Hang tough. We’re going to find food soon.”
When he entered the other room, Dax saw Papa Midnight sitting in the middle of the bed with his legs crossed. He was looking toward the wall as he spoke with a heavy, New Orleans dialect. In his hands, he held something that looked like a burlap tennis ball. The beads inside created a musical rhythm as he shook the thing. He continued with his ritual for a moment before he sensed Dax in the room.
“Good morning.”
“Morning.”
“There are some nuts in my satchel,” Papa Midnight said. “Please, take them out and give them to the children.”
Dax reached into the bag and pulled out a package of assorted nuts. He peeked inside then, seeing what else was in the satchel—the tobacco pipe and the near-empty bottle of whiskey.
He took the snacks to the children and then returned to Papa Midnight’s room. The man remained in the center of the bed in the same sitting position.
“Did you sleep well?” Papa Midnight asked.
“I want to know who you are, and why you were under that bridge,” Dax said, ignoring the blind man’s question.
The old man sighed. “Have a seat.”
“I’ll stand.”
Papa Midnight smiled. “Well, I don’t think by now that I have to tell you that I am a voodoo priest.”
“No shit.”
Ignoring the sarcasm, the blind man continued. “When the Darkness came, I knew what was to follow—everything I said to you earlier this morning. I gathered a group of people together who lived near me. People who had heard the stories. A congregation might be a better word.”
Dax laughed. “Like a doomsday cult?”
“I’m not sure why you’d laugh about that. Not after all that you’ve seen.”
Dax considered what the man said and felt guilty for blurting out his sarcasm. “Go on.”
“By the time we were going to leave the city, it began flooding. That was not something I’d expected. Fortunately, one of my followers had access to a boat. But right after we obtained it, we were attacked.”
“Who attacked you? A gang?”
Papa Midnight shook his head. “I was the only one who got away. I’m not even sure how I was able to. Perhaps they let me go because of my impurities. But I’d almost rather them have taken me than for me to have been forced to listen to them tear my followers to pieces.”
“Jesus Christ.” Dax rubbed his forehead.
“Yes,” Papa said with a laugh. “Christ had everything to do with it.” He spoke with his own brand of sarcasm now.
Dax sat down and clutched his stomach. The hunger pangs felt like a knife in his gut. He couldn’t imagine how the children felt.
“We can’t stay here,” Dax said. “We have to find food.”
“That we do.”
“How are we supposed to move around out there with those things everywhere?” Dax still refused to call them vampires.
“One part of your vampire legend that is true is the part about the creatures being nocturnal. They cannot move freely throughout the day. At least the slaves cannot. The sun will destroy them. Perhaps the higher-ranking ones can, or the Masters. But not the infantry.”
Dax pictured the area in his mind. He tried to think of a place nearby that might have food they could scavenge, but which was also a place with large open windows allowing sunlight to flood in.
His eyes went wide when he thought of the perfect place.
He went to the other room. Darius and Kevin lay on the bed while Monica sat at the edge of it. Both boys clutched their stomachs.
“We’re so hungry,” Monica said.
“I know, guys. So am I.”
“Where are we going to get food?”
Dax smiled. “Who wants to go to the mall?”
Chapter 6
“You want to go to a mall?” Papa Midnight asked. “That’s the perfect hideout for vampires.”
Monica said, “What does he mean, ‘vampires?’”
“That’s what he calls them because they’re allergic to the sun. And that’s what makes the Riverwalk Mall perfect. The food court is lined with large windows that let the sun in.” Dax went to the window and looked outside. There were still some gray clouds in the sky, hinting that it could rain. But the sun had come out and was peeking through. “We can take advantage of the sun being out and find food. We’ll be in and out, and then we can find somewhere else to hide. Somewhere more secluded and safe.”
“And you think
we’ll find food there?” Darius asked.
“I hope so, buddy. Now let’s get going while we still have daylight.”
Dax helped Papa Midnight to his feet. The old man threw his bag over his shoulder and used his cane to walk. Together, the group went to the balcony door.
Even though Papa Midnight had assured Dax that the Screamers were nocturnal, he still held an uneasy feeling in his stomach about opening the back door. What if the blind man was wrong? What if the Screamers had gathered more of their companions and were waiting for the group to come outside so they could ambush them? He parted the blinds.
It appeared to be clear.
“How can you be sure they’re not out there?” Monica asked.
“Ain’t nothing out there that’s going to get you, sweetie,” Papa Midnight said. “At least not any vampires. Not in the daytime. Maybe a gator or moccasin, but not a vampire.”
Dax opened the door. “Let’s go.”
A light rain fell from the sky. The sun combined with all the previous rain had raised the humidity.
Dax had hoped the boat was still under the balcony where he’d left it. But when he looked over the wrought-iron railing, he saw it wasn’t.
Shit.
He looked at the house next door and saw it. The boat had floated under the balcony, stopping and resting against a support pillar. He moved to the edge of the patio and leaned over the side.
“I’m not going in that water,” Monica said.
“None of us are,” Dax said. “Neil said it would be toxic. It’s not safe.”
“What are we going to do?” Darius asked.
The first idea that came to Dax was to look for a rope, and toss it into the boat and pull it in. But he didn’t want to waste time looking for a rope inside of the house when it might not even be there. The day was sliding into the afternoon, and they needed to move while the sun was still out.
The way he saw it, there was only one way he was going to retrieve the boat.
“All right, everyone. Stand back.”
“What are you doing?” Monica asked.
“Move away from the railing.”
