Maxwell
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Eternal Press
www.eternalpress.com.au
Copyright ©2007 by Eternal Press
First published in 2007, 2007
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NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
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Maxwell
The Last Vampire
After Maxwell finished the meal, they let their bodies glide to the ground and returned to their human forms. Kane was beautiful as usual with her rich red hair and emerald eyes. She was slightly taller then Maxwell and wore her curves like a famous Hollywood actress. It was good to see her again.
They walked though the woodland and Maxwell told her every thing that had happened since the earthquake.
"The four of them didn't have a chance,” she said.
"Yes. I don't think I've ever heard of such a freak accident."
"No, it's happened before. Not an earthquake, but there have been tornados, volcanoes, even hurricanes that have taken our brothers and sisters from us Maxwell. I can even remember—not long after I was raised—there had been a Vampire by the name of Claudius who was struck by lightening and fried to a crisp. We're not as immortal as we would like to believe. Mother Nature has always been much more powerful than we are."
"Exactly how old are you, Kane?"
"Never ask a lady that, Maxwell. You should know better.” She laughed. “A girl has to have some secrets."
"You're not going to tell me?"
"No! No way. Let's just say that I'm older and wiser than you are Myka Gutuio."
"I haven't heard that name in two thousand years,” he said. “I've never told you that name either. How did you know?"
"Didn't I just tell you that a girl has to have some secrets?” She kissed his forehead and he liked how it felt. “Now what shall we do about these bloody Werewolves?"
"We don't have much of an Army to fight with."
"But that we do Max. We are the Army, you and I."
"Well, maybe our best option is to lay low, start raising a bigger one. Better to run away if it means we will survive another day."
"No, if we were to do that, who knows how much mischief they could get into by the time our Army was ready? Those Werewolves are blood thirsty savages."
Maxwell: The Last Vampire © 2007 by D.L. Russell
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic of mechanical including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locals is entirely coincidental.
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Cover Art © 2007 by Julie D'Arcy
Edited by Kim Richards
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First Edition * November 2007
Production by Eternal Press
Printed in Australia and United States of America.
Maxwell
The Last Vampire
D.L.Russell
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Dedication
~ To Sandra Vann for believing in me and making me stick with it on those tough days. ~
They stayed in Jonathon's suite. He and Marla in the master bedroom, and Wilmot and Gail in the guest; no sex, although an audible slap could be heard from behind the closed door just before Wilmot shouted a sharp “ouch!” After that, total silence. The sun on its way up could not penetrate the thick light-blocking curtains Jonathon put in place earlier. They were all tired and a little drunk. None of them felt like crawling into a coffin bag. They spent the night reminiscing over old times, old tales, and old haunts. Jonathon informed them he was able to take a small amount of sunshine now, without pain or blistering. He still peeled a little at times, but nothing unbearable. He started rising at about 7:00 in the evening every day now. He was the oldest of the quad at 914 years, although he carried no aspirations for leadership over the group. They each controlled their own areas of the world and didn't usually trespass one upon the other; every twenty to fifty years they would get together and have these little “family” reunions.
They always invited the others, but it usually came down to the four of them.
"I don't even know why we try with those old bones,” Gail said during dinner. “Maxwell has become a hermit and never leaves the Midwest, Daniela refuses to answer my e-mails, and I'm not sure Kane is even with us anymore."
"Did you feel it too?” Marla asked suddenly. “About five years ago, something changed within the family."
"No. I didn't feel anything.” Wilmot said.
"I felt it.” Jonathon said flatly. “I wasn't sure if I imagined it or not."
"Yes, I tried to contact her, the last I heard she was traveling Brazil, looking for a new haunt.” Gail went on. “Maybe we should try to find out. She is our elder."
"Why should we care about any of those geezers. They could care less about us."
"You always were an ungrateful bastard, Wilmot. Kane gave birth to you! Out of all of us you should care most about her well being."
"I tried my best to show my gratitude to her over two hundred years ago. She treated me like her bastard son or something."
"Well you are!” Jonathon, Gail, and Marla said in unison. Even Wilmot, obviously a little hurt, had to laugh with them.
"True, but that doesn't mean she has to treat me as such. Look at us, there are only seven of us left and we are the only ones who attempt to stay in touch."
They drank another bottle of wine and decide to walk back to the hotel, enjoying the breeze blowing off the ocean. Jonathon was glad to play host for the event, to be in the company of his own kind again. He hadn't seen any of them since the last reunion, in London. He talked about all the changes to San Francisco, reminding them how the city still has a high percentage of HIV positives and he suggests they not feed in the city proper, unless they know the signs to look for.
"I still think it was created to exterminate us,” Wilmot remarked as he held hands with Marla.
"I don't,” Jonathon responded. “There were just fifty of us back then. It was just an unfortunate side effect of the disease. Collateral damage, if you will. Why kill off millions of humans, just to exterminate a handful of vampires?"
"They didn't know only a handful of us existed. Hollywood portrayed us as having covens all over the planet, in every major city, and breeding like rabbits. It was that paranoia that did us in, I tell you."
"Perhaps there is some truth to what you say, Wilmot.” Jonathon comments. “Those were strange times when AIDS was at its peak; anything is possible."
"I just don't think humans are that clever,” Gail disagreed.
The four creatures in human form reached the hotel and took the elevator up to Jonathon's suite. They could have all fit easily into his home on the ocean, but he didn't want to create any suspicion within his neighborhood association, so he rented the two bedroom suite for five days.
At 12:15 the earthquake began. The first jolts rattled the
ground under the hotel and seemed to twist and bend the building like a sponge being rung dry. Jonathon jumped up first, the small streaks of sunlight breaking through the moving curtains irritating his eyes.
"Get to the coffin bags!” He shouts at Marla, grabbing her by the arm and yanking her to her feet. Immediately awake, she runs into the living room where they the coffin bags were.
Wilmot, already there, tries to unpack the new bags. He got them out of the UPS box, but was having trouble opening the thick plastic seal while the earth shook beneath him. He could have easily slit the plastic with his extended claws, but the unsteady ground would have caused him to damage the bags, defeating the purpose of getting inside of them.
"Help me with these!” he shouted to Jonathon, seeing him and Marla dash into the room.
Suddenly, Gail screamed as one of the curtains near the patio fell to the floor and a blinding streak of light enveloped her body. Being the youngest of the four, her flesh is the most sensitive to sunlight and she immediately began to blister and burn. Jonathon and Wilmot managed to get the coffin bags open. They threw one to Marla, who ran over to Gail and attempted, in the madness of the vibrating earth and the blinding sunlight, to put the bag over her body, only to be burned by the light herself. The intense California sun of high noon quickly made them look as if they were both dropped into boiling fat, bubbling, sizzling, and popping like french fries.
Wilmot and Jonathon slipped behind the still hanging curtains, just as a loud succession of snapping sounds, like a steel beam being torn apart, then an automobile sized section of plaster falls from the ceiling, seconds before one entire side of the room literally cracks open and drops away from the rest of the building. Even Jonathon with his 914 year old skin can't take the intense heat. With only one leg in his coffin bag, he froze in the suns’ rays and began to crackle, his pale skin peeling as it burned one layer at a time, like a rolled up newspaper thrown into a fireplace.
Wilmot managed to pull his bag over his head, but the unsteady earth caused him trouble getting it over his entire body, from the armpits down he smoldered and caught fire, then fell over onto the still quivering floor. As his body cooks in the sun, he realized he can't allow himself to be found by humans, even if only partially. With the last ounce of strength in his burning hands, he removes the coffin bag from his upper body and lets himself be consumed by the flames.
At 12:17 the ground is still again.
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Maxwell decided he hated telephones. He hated them so much that he was going to break everyone in his house after he got up. He'd let the answering service get it the first three times, but after it started ringing a forth, he decided to get out of bed and smash it to pieces. He stumbles across the room in his blue, silk pajamas and slippered feet through the darkness, his night vision foggy from being awaken so suddenly this early in the day, and grabbed the receiver and turned on the phone.
"This better be good,” he said groggily into the mouthpiece, not attempting to mask his irritation.
"Did you feel it?” Daniela frantically shouted into his ear. “Max! Their all dead!"
"Who?"
"The Children, Max! Didn't you feel it?” He hated when she called them that. Daniela seemed to have made up her mind that she was the mother of the younger Vampires and Max was their father, even though he hadn't given birth to any of the four.
"What happened?” he asked, forgetting his anger at being awaken.
"Oh, Max, it was the strangest thing,” She told him about the earthquake. He'd shaken off the last dregs of sleep and realized the magnitude of what she was telling him.
"Should we go there?” He asked her.
"I don't know what good that would do, they're gone, Max, they're gone!” She cried uncontrollably. Maxwell felt guilty for not being there with her and for not trying to stay in touch with her more then he did.
"Have you spoken to Kane? Does she know about this?"
"Oh Max, you don't pay attention to anyone but yourself do you? Kane has been gone for five years now."
"Kane is dead?” He couldn't believe it.
"I don't know how it happened, but five years ago there was definitely a change in the family and it had something to do with Kane. I haven't heard from her since then."
"I'll come to you, Daniela. We'll get through this together."
"Hurry Max, I feel so all alone."
He hung up the phone, not knowing what to make of the situation. Kane dead? He couldn't believe it. How could he not have noticed the death of someone so close?
He picked the phone back up and called Albert. He needed a ride.
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"So you're looking at total extinction, if you and Daniela don't start making little baby vampires right away, aren't you?” Albert asked as he taxied the Cessna down his darkened, private runway. He was a tall, blond man with an early fortyish appearance. Maxwell didn't socialize much anymore. When he was in the mood for some company and Daniela or Kane weren't readily available, which had been the norm for quite a few years, he could tolerate a drink of Scotch or two with Albert. For a Werewolf, Maxwell didn't think Albert was so bad. He did have a plane, several in fact.
"I'm much too tired to start making Vampires again Albert. I'm almost twenty-eight hundred years old. I've never had the vanity necessary to make someone in my own image. I don't intend to start now.
"Speaking of which,” Albert interrupted. “Considering you could appear as anyone you want, at any age, why is it that you enjoy walking around looking like a wrinkled old uncle all the time?"
"I was born in Africa, you ass. Why would I want to appear as a white man?"
"No offense, old buddy. Hold on.” Albert pulled back on the stick and the Cessna effortlessly took to the air. They were no longer over Indiana before he began talking again. “Even with staying your native color, why do you have to look so old? You're one wrinkled bastard, Max. You could have a new woman in your bed every night, if you'd knock a few years off of your looks."
"I haven't been with a woman since Kane, and I really don't find females that interesting anymore."
"That's just crazy, Max. I don't think I could ever give up the ladies, human or otherwise. Did I ever tell you I did it with a Vampire once?"
"Spare me the details Albert. I'm not in the mood."
"In all honesty, I can tell this earthquake thing is bothering you more then you want me to know. You don't look good, my friend. I don't just mean the wrinkles. You know, we Werewolves can see your soul?"
"I'm just tired."
"When's the last time you've eaten? I'm starving myself. Maybe we could spend an hour or two in New York after we refuel and get a bite,” He started laughing at the play on words. “What do ya say?"
"I haven't fed in months; I just don't have the energy for it. When I say I'm tired, Albert, I mean in every way. I'm worn out. I don't have the energy for the hunt."
"You see, if you Vampires had taken our advice and joined us, there would be no need to hunt. We could have herded these humans up and had them served up one by one for us."
"Must we talk politics Albert? At the time the council didn't think it was a good idea. We Vampires would have lost our identity. The numbers just weren't in our favor."
"You make it sound like you don't trust us. I'd take offense to that if I didn't know you so well. Besides, your council doesn't exist anymore. I'm willing to bet it's still not too late."
They landed at a private strip after reaching New York. Maxwell stayed on the plane and rested his eyes while Albert went out to feed. He came back an hour later with the scent of fresh blood still on his breath. The sweet metallic aroma made Maxwell's canines extend and his glands salivate. He really could use a meal. Maybe, once he reached Amsterdam, he and Daniela could go out together. Take in a show then feed on a big European male. He didn't think he could finish off a human by himself in his current mood. Ten hours later at another private airstrip, he and Albert said their farewells as he
got into a cab. As he was driven off, he made a mental note to himself to send something to Albert for being so helpful.
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Maxwell hadn't been to the Netherlands in ages, literally. Daniela had been living in a small farmhouse outside of Amsterdam in the 1840's when it was still just a fishing village; now she had moved into a castle, a frigging castle; he couldn't believe it. She was playing right into the stereotype that the world had created for them, right on the banks of the Amstel River. He had the taxi let him out a few blocks from the huge fortification. It set on a small rise, with its four spires and two six-story towers overlooking the canals. The structure seemed to be carved out of the rocky hillside more then built upon it. Maxwell wondered if Daniela saw him coming. The sun was just starting to glow at the horizon, and he knew that she wouldn't be asleep yet. He found the main entrance, grabbed the humongous knocker, and let it strike the door under its own weight several times. After a few moments he knocked again. Maybe she was asleep. Daniela had suffered the death of the children very hard and, with three of them being bred from her, he guessed he understood why. She really had been their mother.
After not getting an answer again, he decided to push the door until the iron lock shattered the opening, if she complained he'd tell her that it served her right. She should have waited up for him. Using strength that he hadn't found necessary in years, he pushed with one hand until he heard the clean snapping of the frame. He pushed the door open and there she was, or what remained of her.
Impaled on what appeared to be a large lightning rod, pressed into the parquet floor was Daniela. He ran to her body, almost slipping in the pool of congealing blood that had poured down the rod and collected on the floor. Her body was limp, the rod piercing directly through her heart. No vampire could survive such a wound; another fact that Hollywood had gotten wrong, he thought. To simply remove the rod would do no good. There was no bringing her back. He hadn't seen the note clinched in her hand initially, but now removed it and walked to the staircase and fell more then sat down.