Perpetual Creatures, Volumes 1-3: A Vampire and Ghost Thriller Series

by Gabriel Beyers

  Shufah stared at her, saying nothing.

  Jerusa looked up into Shufah’s eternally youthful beauty‌—‌something her mother would never have. “What does the wisdom of the ages have to say? Do I kill my own mother or let her be butchered, like your father.”

  Jerusa immediately regretted her words. She hadn’t intended for them to be so harsh. She honestly wanted to know. She felt so lost. Just a spec of sand amidst the dust storm. If her words stung Shufah, she didn’t show it. Instead, her resplendent features knitted together a mask of pity so pure Jerusa had to look away or be consumed by its power.

  “One truth you must understand, dear child, is that immortality‌—‌or perpetual life, if you prefer‌—‌doesn’t bring you any closer to the answers of great mysteries than it does for the humans that spend their few short breaths trapped on this rock. I have lived for thousands of years, yet I continue to make the same mistakes and ponder the same questions that I always have.

  “Sometimes I envy the dead. Before the vampire spirit stole them from me, I always sought answers from the spirits, searching their silent expressions for the meaning of life, believing they had attained a greater perspective of the world. But now, I no longer know what I believe.”

  Jerusa knew she should say something in response to Shufah’s revelation of lost faith, but she couldn’t manifest anything of substance, so she remained quiet. Taos continued to drive as though he were lost in his own thoughts and hadn’t heard any of the conversation. It was strange to see him so reserved, this blond giant who normally belched out loud pedantic opinions without regret or apology. It was almost as if he was grieving. Whether it was for Debra Phoenix or her misfit vampire daughter, Jerusa couldn’t tell.

  Taos pulled the car into a sharp turn, jostling them all and brining a yelp of fear from Debra. She gazed about the darkened cab with glassy, unfocused eyes, then sank back into the bog of her dreams. Gravel skipped beneath the tires telling Jerusa that they were home, churning up the long driveway cutting through the forest like a scar.

  “Oh, this isn’t good,” Taos said as they cleared the last of the trees.

  The timbre of his voice caused Jerusa’s borrowed heart to skip a beat. She craned to the side, peering between the bucket seats. Thad’s Jeep (this new one neon green instead of the old candy-apple red) was parked in front of the garage, surrounded by Ming and the other Hunters. An intense blue light danced around inside the cab of the Jeep, sending demonic shadows crawling up over the garage and across the lawn.

  Taos spat out a phrase in some ancient tongue that sounded both beautiful and vile. He stomped the accelerator and the Charger’s engine roared like a lion. The instant g-force sent her flying back against the seat, then the sudden stop bolted her forward again. The doors sprang open; Taos and Shufah vanished like wisps of smoke. Jerusa eased her mother down, then slid out from behind the seat.

  A white plume of gravel dust, kicked up by the Charger, swirled in the beams of the headlights. The blue light continued to dart this way and that, even though the Crimson Storm no longer encircled the Jeep, but instead stood toe to toe with Taos and Shufah. The group of vampires had moved their confrontation around the corner of the garage, out of the blue light’s line of sight.

  Why are they hiding from the light? she wondered. Then she stepped within its range and caught the beam full in the face.

  Instantly Jerusa’s legs went weak, though from the pain or the nausea she couldn’t say. An intense burning erupted behind her eyes. At the same time, a deep sickness writhed in her guts as though a nest of dragons had been disturbed. Her muscles betrayed her, quaking and spasming, trying to dislodge themselves from her bones.

  The dreaded blue light passed by, dancing its erratic pirouette around the Jeep. The pain and nausea oozed out of her, sinking into the soft cool dirt. Jerusa remained on the ground, smelling the slight fungal scent of the decaying leaves and sharp, almost sterile, smell of the crushed limestone gravel. She kept her eyes closed, afraid that they had been vaporized within their sockets.

  “Thad,” Taos shouted, “will you turn that damn thing off.”

  “They attacked me,” Thad answered back.

  “We did no such thing,” Ralgar said. “We approached you and you blasted poor Quinn in the face.”

  Jerusa ventured a glance around and was happy to find her eyes intact. Thad stood above the roll bar of his Jeep, clutching a spot light in both hands as if it were a gun. Thad had replaced the halogen bulb with a UV bulb, which explained why she felt like she had been trampled by an elephant.

  The hard top of Thad’s Jeep had been wrenched off and lay twenty yards away. Jerusa couldn’t tell whether that had happened before or after Quinn had been blasted in the face by the UV light. She liked to imagine that the Hunters had hoped to take Thad by force and that he had sent them scattering like startled fish.

  “Thad, turn the light off,” Shufah said. “You hit Jerusa.”

  Thad made a panicked scan of the grounds, noticed Jerusa lying next to the Charger, then fumbled to extinguish the light. As soon as the UV light went out, Ralgar and Quinn made a run for the Jeep. Thad tried to relight the UV lamp, but he couldn’t outmatch their vampiric speed. Ralgar reached in, snatched the spotlight and crushed it, as though it were made of paper. Quinn grabbed Thad by the throat and yanked him over the roll bar.

  Jerusa sprang to her feet and rushed for Quinn. She had every intention of driving her fist through his chest and plucking out his heart, but before she could reach him a brutal blow blindsided her. Jerusa slammed into the side of the Jeep, hard enough to rock it up on two wheels. The Jeep slammed back down, but Jerusa remained pinned against the door. She shifted her stance, preparing to unleash an assault on whoever held her, but no one was there.

  Mikael stood facing her with his hands upraised. She wrenched from side to side, but could not dislodge herself from the grip of his telekinetic hands.

  Taos appeared so fast that the dead leaves formed a wake behind him and the gravel dust, drifting in the headlights, swirled away in a frightened vortex. He snatched Quinn by the back of the neck with one hand and raised the other above his head. A small nest of fire ignited in his open palm.

  “Drop him,” Taos said. His tone was calm and the surety in his voice was more menacing than if he had screamed it.

  A bright light exploded near the corner of the garage. Ralgar stood with an even greater fire dancing in his hands. Shufah stepped into the gap between Ralgar and Taos, an open hand pointed at each of them.

  “Ming, call off your team.” There was no anger or fear in Shufah’s voice. She might have been requesting a small favor from a friend. “Taos, let go of Quinn. Extinguish your fire.”

  “Not until he lets go of Thad.”

  Ming strolled into the light, a little amused smile playing upon her face. “Drop him, Quinn.”

  “But he sunned my face,” Quinn said, almost whining. “Look at me.”

  Quinn’s face, from his forehead to his neck, was covered in tiny, oozing blisters. It was then that Jerusa noticed her own face stinging, as the cool autumn breeze washed over her skin. She raised her hand and found her own face covered with soft, wet bumps the size of marbles. One of the blisters ruptured and it was as if someone stabbed her in the cheek with an icepick.

  Quinn glanced over his shoulder at Ming, decided she was in no mood for any more whining and released Thad with a bit of a shove. Taos let go of Quinn, extinguishing the fire in his hand. Ralgar squashed his fire with a clap. And Mikael released Jerusa from his telekinetic grip.

  Thad ran up to Jerusa, but stopped short of hugging her. She wasn’t sure if it was the hideous blisters on her face or the fact that Taos and Shufah had simultaneously moved to intercept him.

  Thad’s boyishly handsome face was pinched with dismay. Jerusa flashed him a smile that faltered when the blisters on her cheeks popped, spilling warm liquid over the corners of her mouth.

  “I’m so sorry.” Thad’s han
d crept up to his mouth, though she doubted he realized it. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just got startled.…‌.”

  “It’s all right. It was an accident.”

  “It is not all right,” Quinn said. “Do you know how bad this hurts? I ought to cook your pretty little face off. Let you know how it feels.”

  “Shut up, Quinn,” Ming said.

  Thad looked to Shufah. “Will this go away? It’s not permanent, is it?” His eyes fluttered to the scar hidden beneath Jerusa’s shirt and she felt her face flush hot.

  “I’m okay,” she said, before Thad accidently blabbed about her scar to the Hunters. “Really. I’ll be fine.”

  “They’ll both be fine,” Ming said. She seemed insulted that Quinn wasn’t part of Thad’s concern. “The blisters will be gone by tomorrow night. Faster if they feed.” She kept her eyes tethered to Jerusa’s, searching them for misplaced secrets.

  “We don’t have time for that,” Shufah said. Ming reluctantly pulled her eyes away from Jerusa and it felt as though a splinter had been removed from Jerusa’s flesh. “The sun will be upon us soon. Unless you want to shelter for another night and risk the umbilicus storming our sanctuary, I suggest we make for whatever transportation you have prepared for us.”

  Ming looked out at the darkened forest as if she expected the still-smoldering creatures to burst from the trees. “No. You’re right. We shouldn’t delay. The Stewards are expecting us. There is a private jet waiting for us at the airport outside of town.”

  “We’re taking off from here?” Jerusa asked. “Will a small jet get us all the way to Rome? I mean, don’t we need a larger plane?” She caught another strange twinkle in Ming’s eyes, as though she was locking a door inside her mind.

  “The jet will get us to our destination. It is specially designed for our needs. It’s not as if we can fly coach on any old airline.” Ming gestured at Jerusa’s blistered face. “Unless you wish to be caught out in the daylight while locked in a tube full of panicky humans.” When Jerusa didn’t answer, Ming shot her a condescending smile. “I didn’t think so.”

  “We’ll meet you at the airport in half an hour,” Shufah said. Ming’s face pursed in protest. “We cannot go by foot. We have Thad and Debra to think about.”

  Thad leaned over to Jerusa. “Your mom is coming with us?”

  Jerusa just nodded. She didn’t have the strength to explain right now. She decided to change the subject. She looked down at the shattered remains of the spotlight. “What’s with the UV light?”

  Thad’s eyes moved over her face, going from blister to blister.

  Jerusa turned away. “I’m fine. They don’t even hurt.” That was a lie. They did hurt. Bad. Like she had caught a face full of sulfuric acid.

  This was her first taste of UV light since becoming a vampire. She winced as another blister popped and dribbled a wet mess down her cheek that instantly turned cold in the breeze. She appreciated, now, all the precautions they had gone through to hide from the sun. Her blisters had come from a mere few seconds of UV exposure. Quinn, who suffered a fifteen second blast at most, had fared far worse than she had. Jerusa couldn’t imagine‌—‌or maybe she didn’t want to‌—‌what an hour’s worth of sunlight could do. Or a whole day’s worth.

  The story of Shufah’s father rose to her mind, how poor Shufah and her brother, Suhail had had to listen as the sun melted her father away. That had been Marjek’s doing. Marjek of the High Council, who now held Jerusa’s life in his hands. A shudder rose in her that came not of the cold, nor of the wind.

  Thad stepped just behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Are you all right?”

  Jerusa wanted to answer that she was, that she was neither in pain, nor afraid, but she found she couldn’t speak. The warmth of Thad’s body intoxicated her, rushing through her like a magic elixir. His heart pumped strong and steady. The blood roared through his veins. An emptiness opened up within her, a black hole where her soul used to be, an immense and ravenous nothing drawn forth by the rhythmic thrumming of that heart.

  Alicia stood before her, Foster not far behind. The pair of ghosts looked not at Jerusa but at Thad, their grim faces full of warning. Jerusa felt Thad’s hands slip from her shoulders, but still his heart, his blood, called out to her. Her tongue lulled in her mouth, as if it were a sea creature, beached and dehydrating in the open air. A deep ache settled into her tiny fangs, a dull but maddening itch that could only be quenched by the piercing of flesh.

  Alicia stepped forward, placing her hand on Jerusa’s scar. Jerusa gasped, preparing for the jolt of pain, but it didn’t come. The ghost put her other hand on Jerusa’s cheek and it felt as real as any living person’s. If the ghost would brush the hair from Jerusa’s eyes, would it move? Would the others see it move? Would the Crimson Storm mistake it for an act of the wind or understand it for what it really was?

  Alicia willed Jerusa’s eyes to her own. The ghost’s chest inflated and deflated as she mimicked breathing. Ghosts don’t need to breathe, neither do vampires‌—‌though the action is involuntary and feels strange when stopped‌—‌but Jerusa got the message. She needed to relax, clear her mind, get control of that base desire to feed. Though Jerusa didn’t want to kill anyone, she did want to feed, not just to curb the pain of the thirst, but to move on and lend herself wholly to who she was now. But in this case, she agreed with Alicia. Thad was not on the menu, nor would he ever be.

  Jerusa took several deep breaths, her eyes closed, as she willed the thirst to leave her. It didn’t vanish like water from a broken pitcher, but after a while the storm within calmed and went back to sleep. She opened her eyes and turned back toward the group. From the concerned look on her friends’ faces and the derisive smirks on the Hunters’ faces, she came to understand that her little breathing exercise had lasted far longer than she had thought.

  “I’m sorry about that.” She combed the loose strands of hair from her face with her fingers. She gave an awkward little smile to Thad, who now stood behind Taos. She didn’t remember Taos stepping between them, which caused the moment to seem all that more surreal and detached, like the misty remnants of a dream.

  “Are we famished, my dear?” Ralgar asked, with a short laugh.

  “If you wish to feed upon the human,” Quinn said, touching the blisters on his face, “feel free. You’ll hear no complaints from me.”

  Ming silenced her team with a single stern glare. “It is dangerous to travel with a hungry vampire, Shufah. You know this. She could put us all at risk.”

  “She’s fine,” Shufah said. She was calm and sure, her voice even, as though she was discussing a trivial matter. “Jerusa is still but a babe in the blood. You forget what it is like to be a fledgling. It takes time to temper your thirst. Even we aged vampires are sometimes swept away by the presence of a human. Please, don’t make more of this than it is.”

  Ming flashed a flaying look at Jerusa and she could almost feel that invisible hand, borne of Ming’s mind, crawling across her throat. A moment of frisson overtook Jerusa, which seemed to be what Ming was hoping for, because her face broke in a menacing smile. Ming turned to her team. “Let’s go.”

  Ming led the way, darting off into the darkness, a demon of the shadows off to do hell’s bidding. The rest of the Crimson Storm followed‌—‌all except Celeste. The pixie-haired beauty hesitated a moment, her large eyes fastened on Jerusa. She chewed on her bottom lip, as if biting back a question, to the point that her fang drew a tiny trickle of blood.

  She licked away the blood, her eyes sheepishly scanning the dark forest where her team had gone. She was waiting for something.

  Celeste had something to say. Something she didn’t want Ming or the other Hunters to hear.

  “The plane awaiting us …‌” she said, letting the sound trail off.

  “Yes,” Shufah said, with all the patience of a mountain.

  “It’s not taking us to Rome.”

  A moment of shock hit Jerusa like a punch
in the gut. It was like holding a great treasure in your hands, only to watch it snatched away by a greedy dragon. From the look on his face, Taos was just as shocked. But not Shufah. As always, she viewed the world with a calm demeanor.

  “Not to Rome, huh?” she asked. “Then to where?

  Celeste traded nervous glances between the forest and Shufah. She needed to go. To catch up to Ming and the others. “I don’t know. Honestly, I don’t.”

  “Ming didn’t tell you?”

  Celeste shook her head vigorously‌—‌an almost childlike gesture. “Ming never tells me anything. Maybe she doesn’t know we’re not going to Rome. I don’t know. I just know that’s not where the plane will be landing.”

  Jerusa felt dizzied by Celeste’s confession and a dull pulse rose from the base of her skull and nestled in behind her dry eyes. “What does that even mean? How can you know, but not know?”

  “She’s an augur,” Shufah said. Her expression changed. She now studied Celeste as though she were the most interesting of trinkets. “Augurs are seers. They have visions, sometimes of the past, sometimes of the future. They have highly tuned instincts and empathy. But Celeste is not with the Watchtower, but runs with the Crimson Storm.”

  “Which means?” Jerusa asked.

  “Which means, though her special vision is strong, it is not accurate enough to make her one of the elite, one of the eyes of the Stewards.”

  “Which means?” Jerusa asked again. It was more than a bit annoying to always have to draw answers out of people.

  Shufah kept her eyes on Celeste, who was now dancing from foot to foot, as though she needed a bathroom break. “It means she could be wrong‌—‌misreading the vision.”

  “But I’m not,” Celeste said.

  “Then why are you telling us?” Shufah’s question wasn’t rude, but almost concerned that Celeste would risk being on Ming’s bad side to divulge such a trivial detail.