by David Page
"A lot of people do their praying to the porcelain gods." Beth smiled, turning her silver chain over in her hands like a rosary.
"Why am I here, Beth?" Richard asked.
"I don't know, Richard, why are you here?" she countered.
"Because you asked." He wasn’t about to tell her about his vision.
"I'm flattered." She blinked demurely. "But why did you believe me when so many others have lied to you?"
“Do we really have time for this verbal fencing?”
“We’ve got another six minutes. So, answer me. I think it’s important that we understand each other’s motivations.”
"There is something different about you," he admitted. “And yet, I sense that there is more to this than you have told me.”
"You’re very perceptive. I meant what I said before, that we are close to developing a cure for the Department virus."
"Define ‘close’."
"Six months tops.” She paused. “All we need is another 2.5 million to continue the research."
Richard's eyes widened. "Is that all?" The Department had never found it or they would have simply confiscated it. Beth’s group couldn’t know he had it either. They were grasping at straws. They were desperate. He immediately wanted to back away from her, but the fragmented memories of the woman in red demanded that he stay.
"We know you have it, Richard, and we also know you have no reason to trust us. So, it's a simple choice. You can continue to live the pathetic life you've been living, hiding in your apartment from a bunch of teenagers, abused by your coworkers, and shunned by humanity, or you can trust us, trust me and try to be something more." She lifted the chain higher, allowing the silver cross to dangle in front of her face as if she were studying it for the first time. "The past can be yours again."
A stab of pain flared in Richard's head.
***
"The past can be yours again.” The woman in red smiled at him from the other side of the small room.
“What…” Richard found himself lying in the single bed of a dirt-floored hovel. The woman in red watched him with penetrating, green eyes. “What do you mean? Who are you?”
“You were dreaming about your manor, your lands and the people you are sworn to protect.” She answered adroitly.
Richard gasped. “How …” There was no way she could have known that.
“Did I know?” She glided gracefully around the bed with only the sound of her velvet dress brushing the floor breaking the silence. “You talk in your sleep. Tell me, how long has it been since you were driven from your lands and forced to work for another lord to survive?”
Her statement made perfect sense. He talked in his sleep. He frowned at the memories of the Norman invasion and the circumstances that caused him to switch sides to preserve a small portion of his estate and wealth. Many Anglo-Saxons had called him a traitor, but nearly all of them were dead now.
“Five years.”
She sighed. “Five years is such a short time in the grand scheme of things. You will reclaim your past one day; of this I am sure. Rest here in safety and when you have regained your strength, I may be able to help you.”
Richard wondered how someone who stood no higher than his chin and appeared as delicate as a flower could have managed to remove his heavy mail shirt. It lay on the floor near his sword, his gauntlets, and his boots. His dagger poked up out the left boot. He had no idea how she had dragged him from the battlefield and gotten him into the bed. She must have had help; perhaps a husband or a servant. She was a lady, after all, and ladies had servants. That would explain how she knew about this peasant’s cottage in which he now lay.
He assessed the rest of his clothing. His tunic appeared to be in good shape, but the right leg of his trousers had been torn off at the top of his thigh, just above his injury. Looking down, he realized that she had changed his bandages. The pain had lessened. He sat up slowly; still a little dizzy from whatever had rendered him unconscious. Apparently, he had lost more blood than he thought.
“My thanks to your man for helping me into this shelter. The forest is dangerous at night and I fear in my state I would not have survived long on my own." He tilted his head in what would have to pass for a bow.
“Oh, there is no man. I am alone.” Her eyes sparkled with mirth, or perhaps in the moonlight streaming through the window along the left wall.
“I see. Well, thank you then. I feel better.” Richard believed her, though he could not fathom why. There was no way she could have moved him there on her own, but being a lady, she was allowed to have her secrets. Perhaps she did not want him thinking that she would lower herself to the level of whatever woodsman lived there.
“Yes.” She studied him slowly. “Your leg has stopped bleeding. You should remain in bed for a few days, however, if you do not wish the wound to reopen.”
"I do seem to rest quite well here." Richard was suddenly filled with warmth and realized that the bed on which he lay was incredibly comfortable.
“That is because you are under my protection." She crossed the room slowly.
The reflected moonlight danced in the depths of her green eyes, back and forth, back, and forth. His body felt heavy and his eyelids began to droop as a haze of safety and a blanket of security settled on him. Of course, he would stay until his wound healed and he was well enough to travel.
“Perhaps you’re right. I’ll stay for another day, but no more. I must return to my liege and report what has happened.”
Richard let her push him back into bed. She drew the covers over him as he drifted off to sleep.
***
“Would you stop zoning out?” Beth's voice was halfway between annoyed and concerned.
“Mon Dieu.” Richard blinked. He could still feel a warm comforting touch on his arm, still smell perfume in the air as if one thousand years later, the woman in red stood there with him. He longed to talk to reach out to her.
“Richard?” Beth raised her voice slightly.
“I was lost in thought.” It had happened again. Beth had somehow triggered another vision of the woman in red and with that vision, he had retrieved another shard of his shattered memories. He looked at her through the grate, but her expression did not change. If she had done something intentional to jar his mind, there was no indication.
“I’m sorry. I’m not feeling well,” he answered hastily. “If you want my trust, and if you want me to donate from my hypothetical treasure hoard, you will need to earn both.”
"I intend to. I'll be in touch. Good night." She moved out of sight and he heard her door open.
“Beth, wait!” He had not meant to scare her off. His mind burned with questions about the woman in red and the fact that each vision had occurred in proximity to Beth could not be a coincidence. A thousand years of waiting had ended with the first few lost memories and he had to know more.
He hurried from the bathroom and navigated back through the club, searching the animated throngs of dancers and onlookers, but nowhere did he catch any sign of her. He reached the front door and hurried into the street beyond. The post alley remained empty with only the pattering of the rain and the drone of distant traffic breaking the silence. Beth had vanished.
“Damn it.”
7
A rock skittered down the slant of the cobble-stoned alley as Richard neared the final curve. A strong wind whipped past followed by a loud bang to his right. He spun towards the sound. The door to a touristy apothecary shop hung open. The pitch-black interior beckoned him with its emptiness.
“Richard…” He stopped, unsure if the breeze played tricks with his mind or if someone had indeed said his name. He stared into the opening. Something moved behind him. He spun just in time to see a man swinging what appeared to be a nightstick at his head.
Adrenalin pumped into him lending strength to his dulled, but not forgotten, knight’s reflexes. He dropped into a crouch and kicked out with his leg. His foot met with nothing as his assailant danced
away. The air above his head moved as the night-stick narrowly missed him. In the darkness, bereft of his vampire senses, he saw only the dim outline of the man, but it was enough to know that he was tall and broad with muscle. Richard was no match for such a man.
The stick swung downwards again. Richard launched himself to the side, pausing as he spied three other men standing a dozen feet farther into the alley. His blood pounded in his ears and his fingers tingled as he looked for a way out. He found it in the open shop. Tearing past his opponent, he ran into the comforting darkness, unsure whether his enemies had deliberately herded him there.
He slammed the door shut behind him and frantically felt around for a deadbolt. He found only the pathetic doorknob lock. He turned it anyhow and spun to review his surroundings. The room was narrow, with barely five feet between the counter on the right and the bookshelves on the left. He could see the vague outlines of shelves filled with row after row of small vials, bottles, and other apothecary items.
The doorknob rattled. In seconds, they would break through. Richard ran through the shop, desperate to find an exit. The walls narrowed as he neared the back. What little light came through the front windows failed to reach the rear portion of the store, making it impossible for him to see anything or anyone that might be waiting there. He reached his arms forward and felt for the back wall. There had to be another way out.
A loud crack and a deafening bang echoed through the room as the front door swung open. The four men poured inside, panned their flashlights from left to right, finally settling on him. In the light that they provided, Richard spied the back door. He grabbed the latch and pushed it open, falling forward into a cluster of boxes in a small storeroom beyond.
Pushing past the boxes, he made his way into the center. High up on the back wall, a dim light spilled through the only window. A nearby pile of wooden crates offered a makeshift stairway. Without breaking stride, he leapt onto them and clawed his way to the top. The window was unlocked and just big enough for him to squeeze through. He dropped to the slick cobblestones outside, fell onto one knee but managed to regain his footing. He found himself in a small dead-end street adjacent to the Post Alley. Seeing escape in front of him, he darted forward.
A tall lanky form stepped into view, a trench coat billowing behind him despite the rain, his hat making his identity certain.
Richard gasped and stopped short as Frederick waved a small remote control in a mock show and tell. He might be able to get past the man, but he knew that would be pointless now. He raised his hands. The appearance of his nemesis could only mean one thing: they knew about Beth. His stomach churned.
Frederick stood in place as the first of Richard's assailants emerged from the window, landing nimbly on the ground behind him. Richard did not look back, his eyes instead fixed on the device in Frederick's hand. With a thin smile, the man pressed the red button.
Fiery pain lanced through Richard’s left arm as his tracking bracelet sent a high voltage shock through his body. A moment later, he went rigid. Fortunately, he lost consciousness before he hit the ground.
***
Ice-cold water splashed Richard's face. He blinked and found himself strapped to a wooden chair in a small room with a single light bulb hanging overhead. A mirror covered the left-hand wall, mostly likely a one-way window used to shield the agents there from view. Opposite that, a single thick metal door presented the only means of escape. Frederick stood in front of him, an empty cup in one hand.
"I told you I'd be watching, Richard." He removed his hat and smiled down at him.
“What do you want?” Richard pushed futilely against the restraints.
"Even if you could break through those straps, do you really think you would be able to leave this room alive if I did not wish it?" Frederick laughed.
"No." Richard stopped trying and glared at the man.
Frederick studied him for a moment. He titled his head ever so slightly and Richard had the impression he was deciding just how much to share. Finally, the man nodded.
"I’ll be honest with you, Richard. We know there’s a new group of activists in town and that they are looking for a way to neutralize the virus that keeps you and your kind in check.” He paced across the room. “Naturally, we can’t have this.”
“Naturally,” Richard replied, dryly.
“Let me ask you something.” He paused, raising his hands in front of him and forming a church steeple with his fingers. “What would you do first if you suddenly got your vampiric powers back?”
“I would kill you where you stand.” Richard’s fangs sprouted as he imagined tearing out the man’s throat. He smiled revealing his elongated teeth. Slowly, very slowly.
“Exactly. Now what do you think would happen if all vampires got their powers back?”
Richard saw where he was going. “There would be carnage.” Just the thought lifted the heavy weight in his heart, if only for a moment.
“Exactly. It would be utter chaos. Thousands of people would die before we could contain you again.” The man’s eyes narrowed. “I cannot allow that to happen.”
“Some might say that you would be getting what you deserved.” It would serve humanity right, Richard thought. He stared at him, head raised in defiance. This man had tracked him for years, captured, tortured and finally imprisoned him. He gritted his teeth, closed his eyes, and slammed his will against the wall blocking his vampiric nature. If only he could breach that shield. Try as he might, however, he could barely even touch it. It was like trying to break open a massive boulder with his bare hands. After a moment, he opened his eyes and sighed.
“Richard.” Frederick clapped. “you can’t beat our virus. It’s pure science.”
“Maybe.” Richard knew he was right. He was indeed fragile and weak; he was glass. Without human allies, there was little he could do against the Department. Ray and Beth were the only two people who had treated him with any respect in years and Beth had her own agenda.
“Enough games." Frederick’s expression grew hard. "I brought you here for a reason…”
“I’m listening.” Richard glanced past him at the thick door, the mirrored window, and the blank walls of the place. Nothing there offered him the slightest comfort. There was no way out… for the moment.
“This new activist group has a leader… Vincent Radovan. Radovan is a phantom with no past at all. It’s clearly a pseudonym meant to hide his identity. You are going to find out exactly who this person is and help us expose him.” Frederick paused. “Your friend Beth is the key. We know she’s involved with his group.” Frederick pointed to him. “You are in a position to help us infiltrate their organization.”
Richard opened his mouth to protest.
“Don’t deny it. We know Beth has met with you twice. We don’t know what she said to you, but I can guess well enough. She wants to use you as her guinea pig, wants you to help her free all vampires from the harsh yolk of your Department oppressors.” He scoffed.
Panic seized Richard, pressing down on his chest. Beth’s attempt at secrecy had prevented the Department from getting specific details, but had done little to keep her below their radar. It was only a matter of time before she and her accomplices would be taken down. He closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe out slowly. Whatever the reason, Beth had somehow triggered his memories of the woman in red. He could not allow her to be captured, no matter what the cost. He had to learn more about how she had managed to open that closed portion of his mind.
“What do you want me to do?” Richard asked finally, knowing that he would not like the answer to the question, but also knowing that it did not matter.
“I want you to accept whatever offer Beth makes, gain her trust and get her to take you into the fold. You will infiltrate her organization.” Frederick’s stern voice left little room for debate.
“And then?” Richard did his best to balance defeat with defiance.
“And then we will arrest them all.”
“Why would I do this for you?” Richard sit up straighter in his seat. Remain calm, he told himself. He focused on breathing slow and steadily.
“Because if you don’t,” Frederick sneered. “You’ll find yourself back in that coffin. You remember the one?”
Richard’s throat tightened as he remembered being trapped in that cold metal box, unable to move, barely aware of where he was and who he was as the starvation madness took over his mind. Frederick had rationed him the barest fraction of blood to keep him from losing consciousness, and then made him beg for it like a dog. In the end, he had been broken.
“I see you remember.” Frederick waved to the mirror for a moment, and then returned his attention to him. “Knowing that you would help us, we took some liberties. It’s no coincidence that you got your current job at Big River. We knew that we had to put you in a high-profile position to attract the attention of these criminals. And now it is time for the next phase. Do I have your support?”
Richard’s mind raced, desperate to find a way out. He had to learn more about Beth and he certainly bore her no ill will. Regardless of his feelings however, he still needed to get out of the room alive. There was no choice really. He sighed and slouched in the chair.
"You've made your point. I'll do whatever you want." He slumped his shoulders.
"I knew you would." Frederick spun back to face him, that aristocratic smile plastered to his face and stared at him for a moment. He arched one eyebrow as if he were waiting for an answer to an unasked question.
There was something about the glint in Frederick’s eye that sent a shiver down Richard’s spine. The man wouldn’t just trust him to be obedient, even with his threats. There was more there and Richard knew whatever it might be, he was not going to like it.
