Born of Fire

by Danika Kane

  “Caldre, I mean this. You’re a good friend of mine so take care of yourself and I’ll be at the fight. Nothing would drag me away. Okay?”

  “Only if you want to,” Caldre said, his voice so full of anguish.

  “Nothing would prevent me. Nothing. Hear me.”

  “Thank you. I… just thank you.” Caldre hesitated then steeled his nerves. He had a terrible feeling something was going to happen to prevent any decent concept of his future, and he had no idea why the thought burned within him.

  As he walked outside in the sun, the same nausea as before hit him hard, cramps pushing him to the ground. “God!” The sound strangled, Caldre clawed the dirt as flashes of light flickered in varying patterns, the brightness almost blinding. Lowering his head, he panted and realized bubbles were pushing from his mouth, saliva strands oozing down his chin. A combination of chills and heat flashes rushed through every pore in his body as his heart thumped wildly against his chest muscles. He had to be having a heart attack.

  He struggled to stand and as soon as he took a single step forward he collapsed. This had happened now at least four times, the wave coming over him without warning. This time the agony was much worse. Wiping his mouth, he winced and could swear there was blood on his hand. Terrified, he jerked backward, landing on his butt. The cramps became more severe and he scooted and slithered toward his truck. There was no way he could allow the firefighters to see him in this condition.

  He managed to pull himself up and when he reached for the handle of his truck, the confirmation of blood on his hand was more than just terrifying. Paralyzed, he opened his mouth in a silent scream. My God. What in the fuck was wrong with him? You need help. Get in the truck and…

  Help? The oddest thought that no one at a hospital could help him was similar to the ones he’d had every time the attack happened. But why? He struggled to get the door open, sliding down the side of the truck and onto his knees twice. Caldre’s heart continued to beat irregularly, thudding echoes sounding in his ears. Several tries later he was finally able to get into the truck and closing the door proved to take the last out of him. Agony unlike anything he’d ever felt in his life remained in every crevice of his body. He slowly fell to the seat and prayed to God he was going to die. Licking his dry lips, he dragged his tongue back and forth across the seam of his mouth until a realization hit him had. Allowing a slow hiss to escape, he flicked the underside of his tongue across his teeth and…

  When Caldre emerged from the thick haze, at least an hour had passed. The glimmer of the past was gone, only exhaustion remaining. Everything had appeared to be normal, whatever normal was. There were no teeth marks or bloodstains on his hand. He’d driven around for hours, combing the streets and trying to make sense of the pain and the rest of the nightmare that came with each attack. At least he knew he’d lost a period of time. There was no disputing that fact.

  With every corner turned and every stretch of road, the worse the thought patterns became. All he could think about was the fight and the man behind his sudden rise in the ranks, as well as the single word. Immortality. The other passages were equally as chilling.

  They were similar things his lover used to say to Caldre. Michael had been a dreamer, telling him they’d been destined to meet and to live life together forever. The words had created a game almost between them, one of darkness and an almost ominous love of the occult. Love? Michael had been so embroiled in the lifestyle he’d succumbed to many of the spells and practices that utterly terrified Caldre. What had started out to be a fetish had turned into something else until he barely knew his lover any longer. Slapping his hand on the steering wheel, his gut told him that he couldn’t do this. Not now. Not ever. After all the soul searching, he realized one very important aspect of his life. There was some connection with Sakima and he knew in his heart if he didn’t break it right now he was going to be sucked into a big, black hole, and one he may never return from.

  Sometime just before dark, he made it back to his house and at first he thought about forfeiting the fight. Then there was nothing he wanted more than to go to the competition. In fact, he was compelled to go. Nothing was going to stop him. He’d made the decision to confront Sakima, find out if he’d attacked and perhaps killed William. At least he was going to learn what he might be getting in the middle of.

  He had a couple hours before the fight. He’d use the time to find out everything he could about Sakima Mato, something he should have done before agreeing to work with the man. The monster. The two words seemed whispered from nowhere and everywhere. He stopped short, his heart racing. Not another attack. He couldn’t go through another one. Not now. Caldre eased against the wall and controlled his breathing, much like he did during the fights. A wave of nausea swept through him and he was certain he was going down to his knees. Suddenly, the moment passed.

  As he walked into his bathroom and turned on the light, the sight of his face, the haunted look and the glossy eyes for some reason didn’t terrify him. Gripping the edge of the counter, he stood staring at his reflection and held up his hand. His skin was almost translucent. He laughed and clenched his fist shut. What terrified him was the overwhelming desire for blood, the very same desire Michael had experienced just before he was killed. Dear God, what was he becoming?

  Thirty minutes later he had quite a bit of information on Sakima. There was no hiding the fact he’d been in, at minimum, some questionable businesses with suspect partners, but there was little in the papers and certainly no police record. Everything was very circumstantial at best. His eyes were growing weary from staring at the computer screen. In his mind, there wasn’t anything extraordinary about Sakima. The coach seemed to be who and what he purported himself to be.

  Rubbing his eyes, he flipped through a few more pages and decided for kicks and giggles to type in variations of Sakima’s name and the names of his current and former companies. He sat back in his chair realizing he was probably close to blowing up his very old computer. Growing thirsty, he moved into the kitchen for water. It would be time to leave for the fight soon enough. What in the world was he going to say to Sakima?

  As he walked back into the living room he heard the subtle beep indicating the grinding had finished. The closer he drew to the computer the more he could see a new list of information. Easing down onto the chair, he started flipping through the files, the majority having nothing to do with Sakima. Now he had no idea what to say to the coach. None.

  He was ready to flick off the computer when an entry on Google caught his eye. Promising this was the very last click, he pressed his mouse. The scene was grainy, indicating an old photograph. He leaned closer to the computer screen and wasn’t even certain what he was seeing. He magnified what he could and sure enough, the man standing in front of what had to be some sort of opening event was none other than Sakima Mato. The long hair gave him away. Even the way he was dressed was similar, except… What in the hell was he wearing? The suit was odd. No, the suit appeared to be something out of the sixties. Couldn’t be. His eyes scanned the picture and the cars were also dated. Swallowing hard, he figured this had to be a relative, but his mind kept floating back to some of the information he’d seen earlier on Sakima. He’d been listed as an orphan, growing up in an orphanage in Brooklyn. “What the fuck?” Maybe this was a scene for a commercial.

  He couldn’t get his computer screen to draw in any closer so he pulled out a good, old-fashioned magnifying glass from his desk drawer. He slid the glass over every inch of the screen and there was no doubt this had to be a movie or a promotional item. But there was another face he recognized. A football star from the early sixties. He was the celebrity draw to the event and… “Fuck.” The damn thing had to be shot in the very early sixties. Sakima was at least in his mid-forties and that would make him…

  Chapter 7

  A rush of pure adrenaline remained in his system, the sensation heightened. Sakima flexed his fingers open and glared down at his hand. He’d al
most crushed the boy’s throat. The donor had been frailer than the ones from before. Perhaps picking up what was little more than a trick on the ugly, dark streets hadn’t been a good idea. Unfortunately, after the near battle with the reporters, who had followed him to his next appointment and the one after that, his hunger had been off the charts. Dear God, who the hell had been recording him, William? That would make perfectly good sense. The man was turning over every page, trying to find dirt on him and Sakima had fallen into his trap. The concept of William dying in the fire was awfully coincidental. No matter the financial troubles the man had. Something was off.

  He wiped the blood from his mouth and snarled. The boy was barely clinging onto life. No amount of masking the blood loss or the level of near torture he’d inflicted could be completely hidden. Standing over the boy, he pressed his hand down, checking to make certain he was still breathing. The strangled noises were ragged but strong enough. Sakima sighed and walked toward his bar, zipping his pants.

  “What’s gotten into you tonight?”

  The sound of Tor’s concerned voice was a further indication of the fact he’d gone too far. “Need.”

  “The curse?”

  He glanced at Tor. While he trusted Tor with his life, he wasn’t sure telling him about the curse or his increasing blood lust had been the best idea. There was an odd flash in his friend’s eyes, a moment of raw fear, but he was trying to mask his emotions. Hmmm. “Just extreme hunger. Can you dispose of him?”

  “You know I hate when you use those words,” Tor said through clenched teeth as he walked inside the room. He pressed his hand on the small of the boy’s back. “He’s cold to the touch. You came close to turning him.”

  “No, I came close to extinguishing his life.” Sakima could still taste the after bite of the drugs that had flowed through the boy’s system. How careless he’d been selecting a drug addict. He knew better, one misstep and his secret could be let loose from his actions. Human drugs had an intoxicating effect on him.

  “Seriously, what’s going on with you? Is it the death of William Forester and the fact you’re being accused of the crime?”

  “You’ve heard.”

  “How could I not? It’s all over the news. I’m surprised you haven’t had a visit from local law enforcement,” Tor sniped as he looked away.

  “I have no doubt he was murdered.” There was no reason to tell anyone his suspicions. “He accosted me in a parking lot and yes, I did threaten him, but I didn’t kill him. The entire situation is a bit too tidy. Don’t you think?”

  “Does it matter what I think? Does it matter any of the reasons why?”

  Sakima poured two glasses of scotch as he thought about the question. Handing Tor a drink, he studied the boy again and hated what he was right now more than ever. “I value your opinion, dear trusted friend and the fires being set are too close to home. We all know what fire means to my kind. This is more like a warning than anything else.”

  “A warning?”

  “Yes,” Sakima said quietly. There were a rambling of thoughts going through Tor’s mind. He was terrified of something or someone.

  “Then you have to protect yourself.”

  “You’re right. I can’t have a human crime surrounding me. There’s a prick out there doing a damn good job trying to implicate me in a series of crimes I couldn’t care less about committing.”

  “You’ve said so many times, greed does something horrific to people. You know that.” Tor swirled the liquid in his glass. “Maybe you’re trying too hard to be so very human.”

  Laughing, Sakima took a sip of his drink and closed his eyes briefly. Thoughts about Caldre and what so many would think to be ugly accusations about the fact he and the fighter were indeed lovers was at least troubling. He sensed Caldre’s change. He’d remembered saying some things to him in a dream like state and for the life of him was surprised he’d reached out, offering immortality in such a manner. Sakima was worried he was unraveling more than Caldre.

  Then again, he hadn’t anticipated this difficulty. Not at all. His call to Caldre, his continuing tethering that was growing between them was difficult to explain even to himself. Their connection was very unusual given the fact the fighter had never taken his blood. There was however, a definite growing bond, one that he was going to have soon enough. Caldre, the man and the human, was dying. “I have lived my entire life trying to get back the very human aspect I once had. I’ve been very successful up until now. This curse is not something I want to have hanging over my neck.”

  “Then how can you stop it?”

  “Mate. Kill my mate. I’m no longer certain. There seem to be more riddles to the very curse itself.”

  Tor inched closer. “Are you truly certain there really is some curse? You’ve mentioned the Soul Mongers without really telling me if they exist.”

  Sakima smiled. “You sound like I have all these years. If the curse does exist then we, as creatures are destined to relive our lives, our mistakes as a kind of penance to being what we are. My heritage, my very inner being has fought this notion.”

  “But you’re beginning to believe?”

  “I suppose I’m remembering my ancient teachings.” There was no way he could hide what he knew to be the truth any longer. Certain aspects about his life and spirituality were precious to every Indian.

  “And Caldre is a Soul Monger?”

  “Let’s just say he is special in my life but I need to be very careful.”

  Tor inhaled and shook his head. “For fear of being lost to the man, the need?”

  “How do you account for my increasing desire for blood?” Sakima thought about the entire connection and glanced toward the very telling art hanging on the wall. He’d been drawn to the artist back in the early seventies and the creations were something the painter had told him were meant for Sakima alone. He’d merely enjoyed the pieces before. Now he knew they were nothing more than a foretelling of his future, as well as of Caldre’s. He walked to the closest painting and sighed. The resemblance was amazing. Zamir and Caldre could indeed be made of the same coin. How had he not seen the resemblance before?

  “Well, even vampires age, correct?” Tor asked as he laughed.

  “My dear, friend. I should have turned you and kept you with me years ago.”

  “Are you saying I’m too old for you now?”

  “No.” Uncertain what to say, Sakima shook his head. “I wouldn’t inflict this life on you. Please believe me, no matter how glorified you think this life is, the vileness of what we are as creatures is the ugly and demonic path to Hell. There is no real salvation.” He could tell Tor was agitated.

  “Yet, you’ll inflict this on your brilliant fighter, one who you barely know but was certainly able to fuck like a wild animal.”

  The agitation had turned into anger, bordering on contempt. “Do I hear a hint of jealousy in those words?”

  “Jealousy? Ha.” Tor looked away, sipping his drink.

  “Then what?” Sakima swept his friend’s senses. There was something more than petty jealousy. Why hadn’t he seen this before? Love.

  “As you said, you wouldn’t inflict this wretched life on me anyway so it really doesn’t matter. I’ll dispose of the boy in an appropriate location.” Tor guzzled the rest of the scotch, setting the glass down with a hard thud. He gathered the boy easily into his arms.

  “Tor, I fear there has been a leak from someone I trust regarding my business practices, my fighters and about my relationship with Caldre. While, of course, reporters are like tenacious dogs, deserving to be hunted down and slaughtered like the cowards they are, I would venture a guess I have a leak in my organization. Let alone either someone followed me or was a plant to tape what happened with William. I can’t have that as you can imagine. Tell me, has anyone been snooping around either the house or odd phone calls perhaps? I mean several people within my company certainly realize you’re close to me, important as a confidant as well as a friend. Someone could e
asily try and get to you, I fear.”

  Tor swallowed as he opened his mouth to speak.

  As he eased away from the painting, Sakima noticed the tick in the corner of Tor’s mouth. “Hmmm. Well, trust me, dear friend, if anyone tries to compromise what I have for personal or professional gain, I will come down hard and swiftly. No matter the human qualities, I will certainly destroy all who seek to harm me and anyone I care about. I’m certain you understand what I’m saying. You are my most trusted friend.”

  “Of course. No, nothing that I can think of. If anything happens I’ll be certain to let you know.”

  “Good, very good.” Sakima closed the distance, his eyes flashing as he studied Tor, allowing him to see a hint of his beast. “Because tonight’s match is very important, especially given the fact my investors have already heard about William’s death. I know for a fact the few that are in the open are being inundated with questions, concerns being raised about our deal. Nothing can go wrong. Nothing. Unfortunately, my growing blood lust doesn’t always allow for my ability to distinguish between what is right in the sense of being human and what is needed in my world.” The threat was real and he knew Tor caught the entire meaning by the look of fear in his eyes.

  “Will Caldre be joining you in this world you seek so badly?”

  Sakima raised his eyebrow. What was his friend hiding, and more importantly, who was he working for? “It will be his choice. Freedom is very important for humans, is it not still? I wouldn’t think you’d enjoy being railroaded into an ugly situation. Caldre will be given the opportunity to find what he is so longing, answers to questions that have been plaguing him for years.”

  Tor narrowed his eyes. “He’s always been the one for you, your mate, hasn’t he? I mean he’s reincarnated?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “How interesting. And how does the curse go, if you don’t kill him you’re going to die, becoming human and aging just like the rest of us mere mortals?”