Blood Divine

by Greg Howard

  She took his hand in hers, a sadness brimming in her eyes. “No, son. It’s not going to be all right. I wish it could be. Promise me you’ll leave here, Cooper. Promise me you’ll go as far away as possible.” Her eyes clouded over again. She used to be sharp as a tack but had grown more forgetful over the years, maybe more than he realized. Did she even know what she was saying? He couldn’t make her a promise he knew he wouldn’t keep.

  “It’s late. Get some rest.” He touched her cheek with the back of his hand. “We’ll talk in the morning.” He stood up and brushed the wrinkles out of the quilt where he’d been sitting.

  “RJ was there,” Lillie Mae whispered with half-raised eyelids.

  Cooper leaned over her and pushed the hair off her forehead with his fingers. “Yes, he was. I think he’s still here.” At least Cooper hoped he was.

  “He’s such a sweet boy,” she said. “Thinks the world of you. Asks about you all the time.” She closed her eyes and released a breath of sleepy air through her slightly parted lips.

  Cooper didn’t know how to respond, so he didn’t. Instead, he leaned over and kissed her forehead, trying not to put too much stock into her ramblings. But he warmed at the idea of Randy asking about him. After all these years, he still thought of Cooper.

  “Go talk to him,” Lillie Mae whispered as she drifted off. “He must be confused. And scared.”

  She was right. If Randy was still around, they had a lot to hash out. He tucked the quilt snug around her shoulders and headed toward the door.

  Mumbled words from Lillie Mae made him pause and look back. “What was that?”

  Her words were thick with the slur of sleep. “Good people can do bad things.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Cooper double and triple-checked the lock on the front door, as if a simple oak door could stop Alexander and his minions. Betsy insisted they would be safe there. Some kind of veil of protection spell Lillie Mae cast over Phipps House. As long as she was in the house, nothing got in that wasn’t invited. He hoped to God Betsy was right, and that she made it out of Warfield alive.

  Cooper pulled back the sheers and peeked through the sidelight, Lillie Mae’s words haunting him.

  Good people can do bad things.

  Releasing the fabric with a slight shudder, he ran his fingers through his hair. No way could his grandmother’s past sins be as bad as his. He shuffled down the hallway toward the kitchen, his wool socks slipping on the slick hardwood floor. Randy’s voice drifted out of the kitchen. Cooper had to face him. The things that happened at Warfield, the things Randy saw him do… he couldn’t imagine what must be going through the guy’s head. The sound of Betsy’s voice quickened his heartbeat and slowed his steps. She’d made it. He stood just outside the doorway and listened. A noticeable edge laced her tone.

  “If Alexander knows how you feel, he’ll use it against Cooper,” she whispered. “Your presence puts him in danger.”

  The breath caught in Cooper’s throat, and he was careful not to move on the creaky hardwood. Randy offered no response. Betsy likely detected his presence and silenced Randy on purpose, so Cooper exhaled and went in.

  They hovered over the distressed wood island in the center of the room but dispersed like rats the moment he entered. Betsy crossed her arms and shifted all her weight to one side, leaning against refrigerator. She didn’t have any particular expression, like she was neither happy nor sad to see him. You would never have known she’d just fought off a small army of monsters. Randy rested his butt against the sink and stared at the floor. Tension hung thick in the air between them.

  Cooper stepped into the middle of the room and looked at Betsy. “You made it.” He sounded more astonished than he’d meant to and hoped she wasn’t offended. A deep cut ran from under her mussed hair down the side of her neck. He cocked his head at her. “Do you need a doctor?”

  A scowl of disapproval crossed her lips, and she raised an eyebrow. “Really, Cooper?”

  He shoved his hands in his pants pockets and rocked forward on his toes. “Right. Guess I should’ve seen that one coming.”

  She grinned a little. “From a mile away.” She touched the gash. “It will heal soon. Just a little scratch. Besides, it was worth it. I managed to take out at least a dozen of those nasty bastards.”

  “Yeah,” Randy huffed. “You should have seen all of the other little scratches, cuts, and bruises she had when she showed up out of nowhere a few minutes ago. They just disappeared one by one. Like they were never there.” He shrugged his shoulders at Cooper and rolled his eyes. He wasn’t taking this well.

  Cooper considered crossing the kitchen and giving Betsy a hug. She had, after all, saved the two most important people in his tiny little world tonight. He chose words instead.

  “Thank you,” he said, the corners of his eyes moist and itchy. Damn that was annoying. “If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t be standing here right now.”

  “Damn right you wouldn’t.” A glaze of scorn coated her eyes. “What the hell were you thinking going back there, Cooper? I told you it was too dangerous. Don’t you understand what’s at stake here?”

  She glared at him a moment before her eyes finally softened. She walked over and touched his arm. Though her fingertips were like five tiny ice cubes searing through his shirt to his skin, she squeezed him gently. Maternal, even. Her fingers lingered a second too long for his guarded comfort level. He stepped back, pulling away from her touch.

  “This is all very sweet,” Randy said, disrupting the awkward moment. “But will one of you kindly explain what the hell happened back there? Because I feel like I’m trapped in an episode of the motherfucking Twilight Zone here.”

  He had lost the professional reserve of their earlier meeting. This was the Randy that Cooper remembered from their youth, and the familiarity comforted him.

  “What the hell were those things?” Randy demanded. “And who were the two fancy boys with the jacked-up dental work?”

  Cooper and Betsy exchanged glances. How much should they tell him?

  Randy pointed to Betsy. “Don’t even get me started on Xena, Warrior Princess over here. And the two creepy old ladies I met in the front room who said they lived here a hundred fifty years ago?” He threw up his hands and let them fall with a loud slap against denim-clad thighs. “Hell, I must be as crazy as they are, because after everything I saw tonight, hell if I don’t believe them!”

  Cooper sighed. He’d forgotten all about the twins.

  “And you, Cooper.” Randy shook his head.

  Cooper stared at him, a little put off by Randy’s tone.

  Randy squinted. “What did you do to them? With your hands? It was like you shot them with invisible bullets or some shit. I mean, Christ almighty, Coop. What the hell was that?”

  Overwhelmed by Randy’s completely valid questions, which really only scratched the surface, Cooper didn’t know where to start. He peered up at Betsy. “Help me out here, will you?”

  She uncrossed her arms and stepped up to the island opposite Randy. “My name is Elizabeth Parker.”

  Cooper leaned in, confused. “Elizabeth Parker? You wrote that name on the family tree in Lillie Mae’s Bible.”

  She nodded and looked down.

  “You’re Sally Parker’s mother? My…” Cooper tried counting back the generations in his head but quickly gave up. This just kept getting better and better. Now he had a freaking vampire granny.

  Betsy returned her attention to Randy. “The young blond man with Alexander is my son, Stephen. He and Alexander are both Anakim.”

  Randy’s mouth hung open. “Ana-who?”

  Still a little jarred by Betsy’s familial revelations, Cooper redirected his focus on Randy. “Anakim. Betsy is one too, but she’s also a slayer.” He nodded and crossed his arms over his chest, as if the information he’d just imparted sounded completely sane and reasonable.

  Randy stared at him. “A slayer?” His voice was barely more than a whisper. �
�Like Buffy?”

  “Yes! Like Buffy.”

  Betsy rested her hands on the island and cocked an eyebrow. “Who the hell is this Buffy person? And this Princess Xena? I think I would very much like to meet them.”

  Cooper shook his head at her. “Skip it. Trust me.”

  She shrugged and pushed her thick, wavy hair over her shoulder.

  “Yes, like Buffy, sort of,” Cooper said to Randy. He looked over at Betsy. “Those creatures that attacked us at Warfield? They were like the one that was here last night. Changelings, right?”

  Betsy looked at him and then to Randy. Cooper knew she was wondering if Randy would be able to handle any more reality-dismantling tonight. He gave Randy a quick glance and knew instantly his childhood pal would be fine. Tonight was probably the most fucked-up night in Randy’s entire life, but he was a rock. Always had been. Cooper nodded for her to continue.

  “Yes, they were changelings.” She let the words hang in the air a moment. “When Anakim drain humans to the point of death, we have the power to turn them into our kind after their heart stops beating. If this process happens within a matter of a few minutes after death, the human will transform into Anakim, looking much like they did before they died. Better even. Taller, stronger, faster. They will have the same memories, the same qualities, and traits. They will basically be the same person, though an enhanced version of that person with a few unfortunate peculiarities.”

  Randy stared at her like he’d just been told the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus were completely real. He rubbed his eyes. “Please tell me I’m dreaming.”

  Betsy shook her head. “The longer the Anakim waits before turning their kill, the less they will resemble their human selves after the transition. Our blood is poison. It’s harmless enough in small doses—restorative even, but the decomposition process goes into overdrive if an Anakim drains you completely and too much time passes. The brain gets scrambled. Rage and hunger become the only motivation, and you get what Alexander has created—walking corpses with fangs and enhanced strength but no capacity for reason. Well, none other than an innate and complete loyalty to their maker. Alexander has created a changeling army from the dregs of society to protect himself. All mutated versions of their former selves. Think of them as overripe vampires.”

  Randy’s eyes were blank. “Overripe vampires.” He covered his face with his hands and exhaled slowly.

  Cooper and Betsy exchanged glances and waited, giving Randy a second to process the insane information.

  “If I hadn’t seen it for myself…” Randy lowered his hands and shook his head. “And what does this Alexander creep plan to do with his army of zombie vampires?”

  Betsy moved toward Randy, and he stiffened. He stood completely erect, with his shoulders back and his fists clenched, like he would lay her out if she got any closer, fanged supernatural creature or not. Betsy took a respectful step back. She told Randy about Jericho, the war, and the Sterilus-A virus while he stared at her blankly. Cooper didn’t see the need to reveal the biblical implications he had uncovered. No sense in completely deconstructing Randy’s worldview all in one conversation.

  When Betsy paused, Randy threw up his hands and shrugged. “So why imprison two helpless old ladies in a dungeon?”

  Betsy walked over the sink and peered out the window. “The blood of my daughter’s descendants contains unique mystical properties and dark power. Alexander needs their blood because it can reverse the effects of the sterility virus. Without it, he cannot build his army of Anakim followers and changelings. Cooper is now his last and only source for it.”

  Randy scrunched up his dirty blond eyebrows. “How is Cooper the source… ?” Randy peered over at Cooper. “Wait. Your daughter’s descendants. Aunt Mae? That women with her in the dungeon?”

  Cooper shifted nervously. “That woman was Lillie Mae’s daughter. She was like Lillie Mae. Like me.”

  Randy’s focus drifted back to Betsy. “Do you mean witches?”

  Betsy stood silent with her back to them.

  Randy raised his voice a couple of decibels. “Aunt Mae and Cooper are goddamn witches?”

  Betsy turned on her heel to face them. “Not witches. Divinum. The seed of the Seraphim, with powers you cannot begin to imagine.”

  Randy stared at Cooper, his eyes blank and unreadable.

  Cooper’s muscles grew rigid under the intense inspection. He couldn’t imagine how Randy must see him now. As his best friend’s whiney little brother? Or the monster he really was?

  Betsy slung her hair over her shoulder. The scar on her neck had vanished without a trace. “When Lillie Mae is gone, Cooper will be the last Divinum of the Phipps line and the last descendent of my daughter, Sally. Lillie Mae has cancer. Her blood is tainted, and she will die soon. She is no good to Alexander. Charlotte carried the anomaly in her blood but did not have the Seraphic gene. There was only so much he could do subsisting on her blood all those years. Now that she is gone, Alexander will stop at nothing to get at Cooper. He has both the Seraphic gene and the mutation in his blood. If Alexander has a lifetime supply of his blood, the human race will never be safe again. People would be nothing more to him than a food supply and potential soldiers. Slaves.”

  Cooper’s body went numb, realizing what Alexander meant by stay with me. A blood slave. He rubbed his itchy eyes. He wanted to get away from this madness. Just take Lillie Mae and run. Take her to the farthest corner of the world where Alexander would never be able to find them. Let this insane war run its course without him. But he knew that wasn’t an option anymore. Not if he was Alexander’s last hope of building his army. They would never be safe as long as Alexander lived. Randy would never be safe either.

  Cooper stood in front of Randy, fighting the urge to put a hand on his shoulder. “I know this is all a lot to take in, but now you understand why we can’t just call your police buddies like you wanted. They would be slaughtered before they could draw their weapons. And Alexander could unleash those monsters on the town for sport.” Cooper took a step back and squared his shoulders. “Look, I don’t want you getting involved any more than you already have. And I know what I am must disgust you, frighten you. Hell, I don’t blame you for that. I scare the shit out of myself sometimes. So just go, okay? You shouldn’t be here.” He walked around to the opposite side of the island, putting a barrier between them to make Randy more comfortable.

  Randy flashed him a chilly glare. “Can you give us a minute, Xena?” His steady, authoritative voice was back.

  Betsy was gone before Cooper could glance her way, only the slight rock of the swinging door left in her wake.

  Randy stared at the door and shook his head. “Damn, that’s creepy.” He walked around the island and stood beside Cooper. They both leaned forward against it, side by side with their arms touching and looking straight ahead. Neither said anything for a solid minute. The silence unnerved Cooper.

  Randy finally nudged Cooper’s arm gently with his elbow. “So, that’s why you’ve been acting weird since we left Warfield?”

  Cooper looked over at him. “Me acting weird?”

  Randy shook and lowered his head. “Coop, you really believe that I think you’re disgusting because of what you did tonight?”

  Cooper ran his fingers through his hair nervously. “The look on your face in that dungeon when you saw what I could do. I thought…”

  Randy shook his head and released an extended sigh. “Cooper, tonight I saw three vampire things trying to rip each other’s throats out, a horde of demonic-looking zombie fuckers charging out of a hole in the ground trying to rip our faces off, and two old lady ghosts sipping tea in the front room. Yeah. Seeing you do your John Wayne-voodoo shit was the icing on one really fucked-up cake.”

  A moment of silence passed before they both shook with stifled laughter. It felt good to laugh in the midst of all the chaos. Cooper searched Randy’s honey-brown eyes and saw that flicker of something tender again. His knee-jerk reaction was to
shut it down. Batten down the hatches around his heart. But this was Randy, for Christ’s sake. Not some nameless mark at the bar.

  Randy faced him. “Look, I don’t understand what you can do, Red. And yes. At first, it freaked me the hell out. But I think it’s amazing. Freaky as hell, for damn sure, but amazing. That’s not why I couldn’t look at you in the truck or why I couldn’t talk to you when we first got back here.”

  “It’s not?” Jesus Christ. He sounded like a lovesick puppy. He needed to get a grip. This was not what he thought it was.

  Randy’s smile faded, and he broke eye contact. “It’s just that… when I looked down through that cellar door and saw those vampire-zombie things swarming around you, I thought it was over. I thought you were gone. Forever this time.”

  A single embarrassed tear scurried down Randy’s cheek and ran to hide under his jaw. Cooper was stunned into silence. He looked at Randy, staring up at his stubbled jaw and waiting, his lungs working overtime for oxygen.

  Randy rubbed his eyes with the tips of his fingers. “I know we haven’t seen each other in a long time, but it always made me feel good knowing you were out in the world somewhere, living life on your own terms. Happy. You’re so brave, Coop.”

  Happy? Brave? Randy obviously didn’t know him very well. Turmoil glazed his friend’s eyes. Cooper wanted to reach out and touch his face. He wanted to hug him, to hold him. Jesus Christ, he wanted to kiss him so damn bad. He needed to get hold of himself, but years of unrequited pining boiled over inside him and before he knew what he was doing, he leaned in. Target locked. Randy’s lips.

  The moment changed from tender to awkward in less than a second.

  Randy turned his head away right before Cooper made contact. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and stepped away from the island, like he hadn’t even seen Cooper’s advance. Of course, he had. Cooper winced. That familiar knot formed in his stomach, and he snapped back to reality. Blood rushed to his cheeks.

  “Wow,” Randy said, looking down at his watch. “It’s after eleven. I have to be at the station at six.”