Reign Of Darkness

by E R Landron

  KOKOLITE

  The priest turns to me.

  “Is it that bad?”, he asks.

  “Probably.”, I answer.

  “But the Lord is faithful, and he will strengthen you and protect you from the evil one.”

  “Answers I need, not wisdom.”

  “Do not forsake wisdom, and she will protect you; love her, and she will watch over you.”

  “You are on a roll.”

  “I miss it a little.”

  That last thing was an understatement. Although he occasionally goes to hospitals, staying for a few days here is depressing at the moment for him. Many people blamed God for their bad luck, atrocities to men, women, and children flooded the hospital these last few days. More than he can bear.

  “You’ve shown more strength than any elder. They need you.”, I say.

  The Priest knew I’m right. He nods.

  “I would do my best with the people. I'll make it a temple upon need.”

  HANNAH Night - Hannah's House, 8:29 PM

  Grey clouds form and with it raindrops. They gain speed while others chase them. They descend quickly and quickly passing buildings and some spaces of stairs close to an alleyway and then hitting my curls. Other drops quickly began hitting the stair railings faster and faster as if someone has turned the garden hose. I keep moving upwards while the water cleansed the alleyway lifting the warmness of the day, the dump odors and removing some dirt off it. The sounds of lots of dogs barking, crystal bottles, cats, reminded me that I’m somewhere far worse than where I used to live with my clan. I get closer to a window, and some kids are running around with some old toys, yet still, have lots of fun. They looked humble as I remembered. Old everything; furniture, appliances, rug, even the clothing. A woman gives the kids some instructions as she cooked and was giving a bottle to a toddler. Always juggling, always juggling mom. A man sleeps in a beat up lazy boy while the TV looks at him. I press my hand towards the window and remove it quickly as one of the boys went to it. He saw my hand. He opens the window. Rain kept pouring and was trying to make itself in the apartment. I lean as much as I can to the exterior of the building. "I think I saw something", he said. My little bro looks outside he sees nothing, but a wet cat. I move closer; mom grabs him by the shirt collar. "Clean your hands, food is almost done", she says. She sees me and hesitated for a quick moment, then shushes me away. I don’t flinch. "Those eyes." she says while tearing up. Mom closes the window and runs to get the toddler from dropping the bottle to a trash can. No, no, no, no, no! she screams while she jogs towards him. I touch the window with my paws. My eyes are tearing up as well, but quickly got mixed with the rain pouring over. Mom’s hair is all messed up, and her face looks tired. "Quickly, let's eat and then is bedtime, hay clases mañana chicos " She raises her voice. I turn away.

  I jump from the stair rail to a ledge on another window and open it to a not so girly room with bunk beds, posters over posters over newspaper cutoffs not put up correctly of musicians, monster trucks, movies, superheroes. They made collage trying to cover a pink room. The rain helped with the creak in the window when it was opened. I enter the room as stealthy as I could. I open the closet and begin to change clothes. Some line stockings below some denim shorts, and shirt below a hoodie. Thank you, mom, for not throwing anything away. I raise one of the sleeves quickly and the other slowly as I saw a picture next to the window hanging. Mom pregnant and the boys looking younger. My curly hair was bigger on that photo instead of being shaved around the head. I like the Mohawk. I miss you guys. I can still hear the laughter of them. The laughter stopped by the face of my stepfather on the corner. He was an alcoholic. He is more tranquil now. Last time I saw him, I was barely a newborn and decided to use my new power to confront him. He hit me a few days before and I escaped the house. I wasn't the only one that felt the rage of beer, vodka and/or whatever alcohol was available that day. So did my brothers and mom. I decided it was enough.

  One day I entered the apartment quietly when mom took the kids to do groceries. I carried a bat. He was passed out on the sofa. It wasn't a surprise finding him in that state. It would make things easier. As I aimed the bat, he woke up with inches to spare as I let a grunt using all my force. For me, it was much sweeter as his only reaction was to close his eyes as the bat was already diving. A crack was the only thing heard for a brief moment as the pressure hit his foot. Before the cry of a grown man echoed through the apartment. “You bitch!”, he yelled before receiving a quick hit with the knob of the bat in his face. Blood splattered from his nose, and another swing hit his other knee. His hand quickly went to cover his broken knee cap, and I gave another swing and broke his hand. “I should kill you!”, I screamed, "but my mom needs your pension money to keep this afloat. Touch her again, or my brothers and you will see the demon girl you always called me." He took a look at my teeth and fainted instantly. He did picture me as a demon, and more now that fangs were sticking out of my mouth. I called an ambulance and said somebody trespassed. From time to time I came back to taunt him, these days less and less.

  "One day, I'll come back and see you guys once again. " Thunderstruck and a shriek of the little ones took over quickly, and the toddler began to cry. I held my breath scared somebody will enter the room, but my expression grew worse as I recognize a weird symbol carved on the ceiling. "Ripa's!" I whisper. It looks like a tombstone with an R. I put the hoodie on and got out of the room through the window and close it. That last thunder seized the rain. Still, the handles are humid as I got down every floor with haste.

  I walk through the streets nervous looking behind my shoulder every few feet or every time I heard something sounds abruptly. I hate this feeling man. The street talk and I’m all alone. Word will spread out fast, and I have no clan to protect me. I bet that the symbol was a warning from the ninjas, but this showed who their employer is and why the determination to kill a whole clan for a stupid orb. I’ve never seen him in person, but I feel I could recognize him in an instance with all the stories. As a vampire, you don't change your appearance that much, at least that was what I was thought when entering Tiger's clan. When you are born into the darkness, you stay the same way. If you get cut, damaged, or anything that could damage your body, it will go back little by little as it used to be. So if you had an awful haircut, guess what? It is yours to own until the end of your time. And I believed it as I haven’t had a haircut in three years. So if I see an English type person with an expensive grey, black or white suit, costly watch, smooth very paled, sleek hair very well groomed with probably the blackest eyes this whole city could see... that was probably Ripa. So it's not just that, Tiger told me as of how he became the leader of my now murdered clan. His clan was going to some rough patches with the previous clan leader, but as his right hand, Tiger kept treaties and problems between clans at bay. The previous leader crossed paths with Ripa, stepping out of their turf into his, selling drugs. Something Tiger himself was against. Tiger told him not to do it and was on his way to stop him when he learned that he said: "I'm going where the big ballers hang!" He ran as fast as he could towards him, and as he got there, he saw Ripa. He's leader was finishing arguing with Ripa when Ripa sawed him in half in the middle of the street where anyone could be watching. He didn't care. The leader's eyes met Tiger's as he realized that what Tiger was doing to protect him, was too late because of his own stubbornness. Then his body went on different ways and started to decay immediately. Ripa walked towards Tiger, whom he was still panting heavily and petrified scared as a man who just murdered his leader was without any remorse doing "the next thing". He stood in front of Tiger of what he said it seemed like an eternity, and soon some of his crew were behind Ripa just waiting for any commands. Tiger said to me that the voice of that man almost made him piss himself. He said: "You've been taking good care of your clan. Remember where you belong. Are we clear?" Tiger explained to me that just a nod was the only thing he could do. His forehead was dripping in sweat as he
saw Ripa give his back and went back to where the previous leader's ashes were. "Rest in peace asshole." said Ripa as he got into his limo. I don’t remember the name of the previous clan leader, and I should. History of the vampire world is critical. You know people. You know that they don't change a lot from time to time, just modify some other stuff in their lives. Maybe get wiser, richer, stronger or maybe a big-time kingpin of the whole city that is so close to a count you question why did I agree to this life. I keep running through the damp streets. My family is very important, and now an imminent threat to them has been put.

  MIEKE Night - Mieke’s Apartment, 9:06 PM

  The apartment's door opens, and Diane ran to the kitchen and gave the fridge a huge hug. She dives in the fridge taking out practically everything from it. Sweets, veggies, bread, cheese, she even took out the sausages that I was eating the other day.

  “Hospital food that bad? I thought you loved it?”, I say sarcastically.

  A quick raised eyebrow appeared on Diane while stuffing her face into a fudge brownie cake she bought a few days before. She does not care at all. She is eating with her mouth open trying to eat rapid and at the same time savoring the dessert. She took a pizza out of a box and chewed it too.

  “Cold? Really?”, I ask.

  “Weren’t you like... on missions and things were food wasn't that good?”

  She said while masticating now both the brownie and pizza at the same time, yet her voice sounded fuzzy. Maybe it's the meds. All that Diane was eating, beats those bags of MRE that contains God knows what to preserve it state for long periods. But that was your everyday meal on missions and contained all the nutrients that the body needs. Or so I was told. I laugh and nod as I gave her some water to help her swallow those huge chunks she was chewing. I put back the sausages to the fridge while Diane took another huge bite of the cheese and brownie. She will regret that all week if she eats those sausages.

  “Mieke.”

  “Yes?”, I ask.

  “Was the guy, the same from the church?”

  “Yes.”

  “Didn't recognize him at the hospital. He looked cleaner.”

  “He’s an informant. He's helping me with a case. The church case.”

  “I don't know what is going on, but, what we saw over the church wasn't normal.”

  “Go on.”

  “For what I saw they were moving so quickly, like an anime or superhero movie. Wooosh…”

  Oh yeah, there are vampires in this world Diane. Bloodthirsty, superhuman, self-healing, grenade and bullet resistant, animal shifting, God knows what else, vampires who can also read minds. It's perfectly normal sis.

  “I need to sleep, I'm still tired. Hungry, but more tired to keep eating.”

  “That’s what you wanted to tell me?”, I ask.

  “No, maybe later...”

  Diane walked to her room leaving a mess in the kitchen, and I follow her. I enter her room. Already asleep? She didn't even change cloth just threw herself to her bed. "Diane!" I raise my voice while moving her feet. “Diane!" I call again but no answer. Full asleep huh. I could never do that. I'll probably be one... Maybe two hours shutting my brain from analyzing everything that took event on the day. I grab a blanket and threw it over Diane. I took a moment to analyze her room. Sketches, photographs of all-around city stuff, architectures, restaurants, some portraits. She does love art. That’s Diane.

  She has a bulletin board made of cork and some white Christmas lights surrounding it. In it, she has a picture of both of us with dad on a Tae-Kwon-Do tournament next to a tiny poem. We both had our cheeks red, and all three of us were forcing smiles. I was a junior black belt at twelve years old, and there wasn’t much competition for girls so for three years I had to fight other boys who were junior black belts as well. At the moment of the photo, I was fourteen. We discussed with the sabonim of the boy who lost. He was arguing that I had a colorful heart drawing with the words GOOD LUCK on my right leg and the boy kept saying he was distracted. Dad was arguing that they could not accept that a girl beat him. I argued with Diane as well as she drew on my uniform. She knew that my do box should be in pristine white, no wrinkles, especially no drawings and always look sharp. Dad intervened and let me know that it was a mistake. He also told me that those moments, when your sister wrote you that messages cherish it because those moments might not come again. He was right. It took a lot of me to forgive her as my sabonim, and the others were still arguing if I should be disqualified or not. It's weird that she kept that photo, still, we are all together.

  I went back to the kitchen to clean the mess made. For a single moment, I felt the calm. D is in the next room, no superhumans trying to kill us. I must do paperwork tomorrow. I will see what the facial recognition software came up with. I took the half eaten cold pizza and chew. Not bad. New on the go breakfast.

  Day - Mieke’s Apartment, 6:35 AM

  For the first time, I wake tranquil. No stress. Normal? The sun is slowly waking up as well. I walk to D's room, and she is still sleeping and snoring. I smile and close the door.

  I go to the kitchen and take out a bagel. Some cream cheese, yum. A ding changes the scenery as the coffee machine announces it is done. I pour a bit on a mug to go and grab my jacket with the bagel in my mouth. The mild sweet taste with the slight tang dances in my mouth. I close the door and head out.

  Outside on the street, I lower my sunglasses before getting to the car. Some cars pass by, cyclist, more vivid than a few nights ago. People with their dogs on a leach, children playing. I enter the car and decided for some music for a change. 90s rock. Usually, I will just let the car coms on and listen to everything going on.

  I take the last bite of bagel before arriving at the station. Mug in hand I exit the car. I walk and an open door welcomes me and a good morning from a female police officer getting out. I force a smile while I still battle the bagel in my mouth from leaving. I nod at and wave. More good mornings I receive till I finally land on my desk. Some people I had never interacted with. It is almost weird all of this... it's nice.

  I turn the computer on while sipping my coffee. Just the aroma is energizing me. My desk is a mess with lots of papers that were thrown while on field duty. I have no place to put my mug. Guess there’s no escaping this. The computer goes to the main screen. Papers are being piled on the OUT bin. I put a stamp here, another there, a sign here a sign there, a paper is squashed and thrown in the trash bin. My chair makes some sounds while I move. It’s annoying. I seldom use it. No point in complaining. In no time my desk looks a little more welcoming. I could add a picture frame or a bubble head or whatever people put on their desk to show their personality. Stupid thought. Back to the computer. I open some software here and there. One of them is an FBI software. I type username and a password. I’m glad this user is off the records. The software opens up and a screen with various icons. NOTIFICATIONS with the number 14 on it. Double click it and scroll the faces of people that look like they had their mugshot taken. “Let's go here. No, Mr. Thief. No Mr. abuser, no Mr. drunk in public, no Mr. drunk fighter. No, no, no. No drug user 1, 2 and 3. Homeless doing reckless, no, doing damage to property no other thief and no to you too.” I sigh. Waste of time? Let’s go to the suggestion icon. An officer passes by and says high. I smile back but get right to center my eyes on the computer scrolling to old articles, newspapers. Another person was standing on behind the computer tapping his shoes. My neck tenses and I grip my left hand. The tapping continued. I raise my head slowly only to see Oliver standing with a box of cinnamon rolls. I calmly minimize the screens. My cheeks got warmer. I hope he doesn’t notice me using these programs. I could be arrested. I hold my breath as he sits on my desk.

  “Hey ya!”, he says showing his perfect bleached teeth.

  “Hey yourself. Don't you have an investigation to finish?”

  “Well yeah, but… I was in the neighborhood and saw that bakery you loved so much... anyways, this are for y
ou.”

  I force a smile him as he extends his hands. He rolls his eyes and puts the box on the desk.

  “By the way good morning.”, he says bitterly.

  “Morning.”

  “How’s Diane?”

  “She’s ok. Look... I really don't want to be rude Oliver... but I got lot of work to do.”, I say putting my hands together as if praying. And praying he would just go away at the moment.

  Oliver presses his lips and nods. He stood silent for a while that made me uncomfortable. Why I feel bad? God!

  “Look, I'm sorry. Thanks for the rolls, let me cut a little bit of my to-do list, and we'll grab lunch or something.”

  “Well, the thing is... your… to do list, doesn't end. It just never ends. “

  Oliver forces a smile and leaves.

  I sigh deeply. I get back to the computer. Open the window again and kept scrolling through while trying to get one of the cinnamon rolls with the other hand. I take a bite. Oh man... I forgot how good these things are. A bit crunchy on the outside, smooth on the inside. The glaze not that invasive. My mouth waters before taking another bite. I text Oliver. "I'm really sorry; I promise I'll make it up to you. The cinnamon rolls are amazing btw!" He answers with a wink emoji. That went well. Back to the computer. I keep scrolling until one caught an image of an early American painting. Damaged painting with some natives, some malnourished European travelers and a man more or less like the sketch Ortiz drew. What year is this? As I was going to continue the lights of the building blinked. My eyes went back to the computer, but the whole precinct went dark including. I hammered my desk. Two seconds later the emergency lights turn on, and a scuffle is heard in front of the building where people were detained to be processed. "Don't we have power supplies?" I say loud as I lifted from my seat. I stare at everything over the horizon, closely examining. One cop was looking toward me and changed what he was doing. I stay quiet. A weird beep sounded twice very, very dim as the policemen struggling with a detainee almost muted it. Always watching huh? Act like you and get out. I got back to the squeaky chair, I grab my mug and get up again making the squeaky noise. Took the cinnamon roll box and head to the entrance. Forms of communication? Or paranoid much. I get to the officer at the entrance on the information counter with an unhappy demeanor. I try best to sound calm. I always fail at that.