by D. S. Murphy
“Vampire,” I spat.
“I see you’ve been reading Damien’s library. A foolish, adolescent obsession he had.”
“Your only power comes from what little elixir we allow you to enjoy,” Richard continued, “otherwise your lives would be brutal and short, full of pain and suffering.”
“The same is true for you,” I said. “You’re just an animal, like any other. You need blood to survive. You need to humans to live. We don’t need you at all.”
“Exactly,” he smiled, wiping my blood off his sword with the sleeve of his jacket. “Do you still not see how perfect my system is? If we didn’t need you, we’d destroy you. There’s no question that we’re the dominant species. It is only our need for you that keeps you alive. Live together or die apart. It’s the perfect symbiotic relationship.”
“I think it’s time we started seeing other people,” I growled, lunging with my sword. I cut through the air, my blade flashing. My arm was still throbbing but I could tell the elixir was already trying to heal the wound. Unfortunately it left me slow and the lack of oxygen and heat made me dizzy.
Each strike was either easily dodged or parried with such force it felt like I was striking a metal pole, sending vibrations coursing through me. But then a hand grabbed me by my hair and slammed my face into the dirt. I tasted blood in my mouth as my mask crushed my lips and nose. I ripped it off, gasping for breath, with blood streaming down to my chin.
The king stepped on my hand, slowly crunching my fingers until my grip loosened. I felt the bones snap one by one and screamed in pain. He kicked the sword away from me.
“Before you die, there’s just one thing I need to know. How did you find this place, anyway? Did my son tell you?”
“It was your wife,” I grinned through bloody teeth. “She says hi by the way.”
His eyes widened and I clawed at him with my bare hands, gouging red scratches down his pale, flawless cheek. He slapped me with an open palm so hard my head spun. The blow would have snapped my neck if I wasn’t already so amped with elixir. I practically felt my vertebrae harden, then shift back into place one by one.
“Then I suppose I don’t have time for you,” the king said finally. He dragged me towards the edge of the infernal furnace, then lifted me by the neck until my feet hung over the ledge. His fingers dug deeper, crushing my windpipe until I couldn’t breathe. I choked on ash, dirt and fire, surrounded by flaming sparks that singed my wild hair.
“That’s enough, Father.”
I choked back a sob of relief as Damien emerged out of the ash, an orange glow reflecting off his golden armor.
“Foolish boy. You’re willing to destroy everything, for her? You think you can take my place, that you can keep all this running?”
“After she destroys the machine, maybe I won’t have to.” Damien smiled at me, and I felt the king’s grip loosen as he shifted to a defensive posture. Damien stabbed forward with his sword, blazing across the scorched earth like a bolt of lightning.
He was so fast, but not fast enough.
King Richard raised his hand in a swift movement, his pale fingers spread wide like talons, clawing at the air. I saw the panic in Damien’s eyes as his sword shifted course, driven by his traitorous hand. It curved in midair before plunging through my stomach.
My bracelet beeped as the last of the elixir tried to repair the bloody hole through my torso. I could feel the sharp, cool steel inside of me, slicing my internal organs. Shock and horror twisted Damien’s beautiful face as he let go of his sword, sinking to his knees.
“We’ve been here before, haven’t we Son?” King Richard said. “Why does it always have to come to this? Have you learned nothing?”
“I told you once before, Father. If you ever compulsed me again, what the consequences would be.” He flashed a sad smile, gazing off into the distance, the fiery sparks reflecting in his vivid eyes. Then he pulled out an ornate dagger and plunged it into his own throat, Spurting hot blood over the engraved metal of his armor.
The king’s eyes widened in surprise. I took advantage of the distraction to grab an arrow from my quiver and plunge it deep into his shoulder, where his neck met his collarbone. I grunted, pushing it down with all my force, but it sunk no deeper. I couldn’t get it past his bones into his heart.
He grabbed my wrist, pulling it away sharply and throwing me to the ground. He snapped the arrow in half, leaving the wooden stump in his shoulder. I clutched my injured stomach, feeling the warm blood soak my abdomen, dripping between my legs.
Damien was on the ground, his eyes rolling into his head, spasms rippling down his legs. A pool of thick dark blood spread out in the gray ash around him, a stain against his golden armor.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. A single tear rolled down his cheek as I clawed my way towards him. “I’m not strong enough. I never was.”
“It’s not your fault,” I whispered.
“He’ll be fine,” the king said, wiping the blood off his sword and returning it to the scabbard on his belt. “He’s just acting out, throwing a tantrum. Maybe I’ll feed him your siblings. That should fill him with enough guilt and self-loathing to keep him quiet for a few more decades.”
“You bastard,” I choked out. I swung at him, but fell to my knees in pain, clutching my stomach. It felt like I’d been torn in half, like I was coming undone. The king laughed, but it was cruel and without mirth.
“What a pair you make, honestly you should see yourselves. It’s almost Shakespearean. All this destruction and violence. Sons turning on fathers, wives against husbands. It’s a disease. And for what? Now then, where were we?”
He lifted me up again, dragging me towards the blistering furnace, and holding me up to the wall of fire until I could feel my skin burning. I stabbed him with my dagger, again and again, but it barely made a scratch.
“You’ve got spirit,” the king said, twisting his lips into a grim smile. “But you’ll never be strong enough. You may be renitent, but you’re still just a human.”
I flailed at his neck and shoulders until I found the shaft of the broken arrow, buried deep under his collarbone. I tore it out, coated with the king’s blood, so thick it ran down across my thumb, staining my fingernails.
“I’m only half human,” I growled, splattering his face with blood, “and you can shove your covenant up your royal ass.”
I licked the arrow shaft, coating my tongue and lips with the king’s blood, and feeling it run down the back of my throat. I could taste the elixir in it, and my injured body responded hungrily to the rush of power.
I saw the look in his eyes the minute he realized his mistake, but it was already too late.
Ten drops? Twenty?
It was impossible to tell.
April’s bracelet screamed a warning.
But I wasn’t a danger to myself. Only him.
In one fluid movement, I ducked under his arms and grabbed his sword, plunging it into his chest until I heard bone crunch and felt it pierce his heart. With my other hand, I snagged the key around his neck and ripped it off, breaking the chain.
He staggered backwards, a look of shock on his face, fumbling for the handle, but it was too late. Before he could pull it out, I lifted my foot with a roar of rage and kicked him, as hard as I could, into the roaring furnace below.
I scrambled across the stones, tearing holes in my knees, my hands wet with blood, trying not to think about what I’d just done.
I felt like I was dissolved, melting and being remade again all at the same time, as the elixir in my body worked to stitch my skin back together as fast as I ripped it open again.
Tobias had told me once, nobody knew how fast I could be, how much elixir I could consume. I felt like my skin was on fire, like my eyeballs were glued open. Blood stained my teeth and chin as I pulled myself forward.
I found a hatch, just inside the volcano, and tore the door open. I staggered down the cement stairs, su
cking in ragged breaths as my lungs melted, tearing away my scarf and gasping for air.
The control room was much older than what I’d seen in the citadel. Large gears and buttons, and electric panels I had no idea how to use. Someone had scrawled large directions in the ground with chalk, but it was for maintenance. Finally I found a sign on the wall in red, faded paint. Shutdown protocol. I jammed Richard’s key to unlock the hidden panel and turned all the knobs to zero, then gripped the large lever.
I pulled at it, gritting my teeth and wincing in pain, then screaming as my stomach wound opened again, dripping blood on the floor.
The entire mountain vibrated, with a great rumbling sound. Red flashing warning lights and sirens assaulted my senses, and then, with a great shudder like a dying beast, everything was still.
Footsteps sounded behind me and I whirled, baring my teeth and flourishing my blade, but exhaustion and darkness overtook me. I passed out to screams, rays of light, and someone shouting my name.
EPILOGUE
I felt the light behind my eyelids and heard the ringing of bells. Soft, cool sheets beneath my bare skin and something wet licking my face. I frowned, shoving away the hairy beast, but it was soft and friendly. A border collie, I knew somehow.
“Down boy,” I said in a voice that wasn’t my own.
I rolled out of bed and fumbled for my glasses, and the world snapped into focus. Soft purple walls, my wife had picked the color. I never cared enough and was happy to let her decorate when we moved in years ago. But now the color brought me only sadness. I opened the blinds and looked out the window at the trees in the garden, and the leaves that needed raking.
There’d be time enough for that later. I was barely home as it was. I leaned back, placing my hand on the other side of the bed, the side that hadn’t been slept in, and took a deep breath. Gotta keep moving.
I took a quick shower and shaved, wiping the shaving cream and wincing as I nicked my chin, drawing blood.
Downstairs I heard Damien already fixing breakfast.
“Hey kiddo,” I said, rubbing my eyes.
He was lathering peanut butter on a toaster waffle.
“Easy with that syrup,”
“Yeah Dad, whatever.”
“Don’t forget, your mom gets home from treatment tonight. I thought we’d order out. How’s Thai sound?”
“Better than your cooking,” Damien smirked.
He was younger than I’d ever seen him, barely a teenager, but I recognize the green eyes, smooth cheeks, the dimple by the corner of his mouth when he smiled.
“Going into work today?” he asked.
“Yeah, maybe.” I said, feeling guilt squeeze my chest. For the past few weeks I’d been changing into a suit every morning before he left for school. Soon I’d have to tell him I already lost my job.
But it didn’t matter.
I was so close, I couldn’t quit now.
“Don’t forget your lunch,” I said, tossing him an apple.
“Nobody brings lunch to school anymore,” he said.
“Fine, then, here. Let me give you some lunch money at least.” I opened my wallet but frowned. I only had a ten left. I needed to go to the bank and get some more cash. I handed him the bill and put away my now empty wallet.
The fridge was empty again. Becky always complained that we’d starve ourselves if she wasn’t here. We’d been mostly living on takeout all week, but Damien hadn’t complained. I’d go to the store later and pick up all the foods she liked, so it looked like I was at least trying to keep us eating healthy.
But what was the point.
I took a cup of coffee and a strawberry poptart down into the office, stretching before loosening my tie and slipping on my slippers. Today was the day. I unlocked the medical cabinet, pulling out the laboratory equipment I’d stolen from the Department of Health’s supply closets after they’d let me go.
They thought I was crazy when I pitched them my research. Small minded idiots. This was going to change everything. I just needed more testing. I spent the morning making phone calls to potential supporters.
“No listen, Steve, this is a whole different ballgame. We’re not just talking about a cure for cancer. We’re talking cellular regeneration. Of course it’s possible. In my tests, I’ve seen rapid healing, increased speed and strength. The applications are limitless. Whoever gets control of this thing, they’re going to make billions. All I’m asking for is a small investment to begin clinical trials.”
I’d raised nearly half a million in the last week, but it wasn’t enough. Hell it barely paid for Rebecca’s treatments, which were a joke. Chemo therapy, using decades-old equipment.
I put on my lab coat and opened the sealed chamber in the back of the basement, letting myself into the makeshift clean room. It was the best I could do; more of a hobbyist set up after working with the cutting-edge tech at the lab, but it would have to do for now.
Cages of white rats were illuminated by the vials of glowing elixir. It was working, like I knew it would. It had to.
At noon I made a ham and mayonnaise sandwich and moved to my other list. I sighed and rubbed the bridge of my nose, looking over the names, half of which were crossed out already.
I felt like a snake oil salesman, peddling hope, but I knew it could work. It just hadn’t been tested on humans yet. But there were plenty of wealthy families with a loved one in critical condition. I’d met some of them, in the terminal ward at the hospital. People just like me, desperate for a miracle, with nothing left to lose.
“No it hasn’t gone through clinical trials, and it’s not approved by the FDA. Frankly speaking, this is something new – you know how the bureaucracy works. It could be two or three years before a public trial phase is even available. Tommy doesn’t have that long and he’s not responding to treatment. All I’m saying is, if you’re out of options, why not try it?”
I had a list of ten patients. I’d have them sign waivers of course. It wasn’t like I could get fired again, though prison was always a possibility. I hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
Shit, I glanced at my watch. It was already nearly 4pm. I ran upstairs and grabbed my keys, opening the garage door and peeling out of the driveway, so quickly I almost didn’t see Cindy, our next door neighbor’s daughter, riding her pink bike in the street. I slowed, rolling down my window to wave, even though my heart was pounding. She smiled and waved back, having no idea of the danger she’d been in.
I waited for Becky in the cancer ward. They’d cut her hair after the first round of chemo. This was the 3rd, in five years. She looked so thin, her skin stretched over her cheekbones. They rolled her out in a wheelchair.
“Is this really necessary?”
“Honestly I’m fine,” she said, giving me a weak smile. “Just a little dizzy.”
“I’ll take it from here. Just give me a second to talk with the doctor.”
I left her in the hall with the nurse, and followed the doctor into the lab, where he showed me the latest xrays and reports.
“At this point, I think we need to be realistic with our expectations. She’s not responding to treatment. The cancer is malignant, and aggressive. As you can see, it’s eating through her heart and lungs. I don’t know which will give out first.”
“What are we looking at?” I asked, my tongue sticking to my throat. “How much time?”
“A few weeks,” he said. “Maybe a month.”
I sucked in a breath. After the last treatment he’d given her at least a year.
“As I said, things are deteriorating quickly. I think it’s time to start making arrangements.”
My fist was around his collar before I knew what I was doing, pushing him back against the wall.
“My wife is not going to die,” I breathed. “Do you hear me?”
An intern walked in, a young woman wearing scrubs and a medical mask. Her eyes widened when she saw us.
“Sorry, sorry,”
I said, backing away and ducking into the hall before they could call security. I must be losing my mind.
I pushed the wheelchair into the elevator quickly, jabbing the button. We were quiet on the drive home.
Cindy was still there when we got back.
I leaned out of the car this time and waved her away.
“Move!” I yelled. Her stricken face stuck her tongue out at me before pedaling off.
“She’s just a kid, Richard.”
“She should know better than to play in the street.”
“You talked to the doctor then,” she said, as I supported her through the doorway. It reminded me of when we first got married and I’d carried her through the threshold after our honeymoon.
“He told you?” she pressed.
“He’s wrong,” I said. “We’ll get a second opinion.”
“He’s not wrong,” she said, placing a hand on my arm. “I can feel it. It’s time.”
I looked up at her, blinking back a tear.
“What will we tell Damien?”
“The truth. He’s old enough, he can handle it.”
Dinner was awkward. Damien was on his cellphone scrolling through social media. I had to ask him twice to put it away. Becky tried to make small talk and ask him about school.
“Son, we’ve got something we need to tell you. We love you very much, you know that.”
“What is this,” he asked, clenching his jaw.
“Treatment, it’s not going well,” Becky said. “I’m not going to make it.” Damien flinched, his eyes suddenly wide and vulnerable.
“But Dad’s a scientist. He can fix it, right? Dad, why can’t you fix it?”
“I’ve been trying son, I just need more time.”
“It’s not his fault, cheese weasel,” she said, cupping Damien’s cheek with her hand. “He’s done everything he can.”
Damien pushed away from the table in anger, spilling the coconut chicken soup. He was getting so big, so fast, it seemed like he was always knocking things over. This time, he didn’t apologize.
