The Vampire's Retribution, page 5
“That thing doesn’t even look like it was ever human,” Jamal whispered to him.
“Don’t touch it,” the man warned. “That’s an order from upstairs. Just let it rot.”
Already pissed off by the way he had been dismissed, Denny hollered, “Hey… does it have a name?” No answer came.
Then Jamal tapped his shoulder. “You know who this is? The tall exec in 1301… Look at the black jeans. It’s all he ever wears. Damn! That’s one damaged motherfucker,” Jamal said with one of those rolling sways, a cool move Denny liked.
Denny pressed the activation code into the side panel. The glass door sealed itself. “Shit…he’s a vamp!? We’re gonna have to watch this one for worms. He’s beaten to a friggin’ pulp.” He stared in awe at Michael Malone, Sub-Level Five’s newest inhabitant.
It was as if a switch had been flipped in Michael’s brain. Reality started to bend and warp. Memories twisted into distorted, fractured episodes. The ability to speak or think clearly was far out of his reach. Captured, shackled, and blood oozing out of every wound. Cold steel against his back. He knew where he was and why he’d been put here.
“You must survive, Son of my Bloodline,” echoed through him as if Helena was at his side and whispering. “This battle. So foolish to attempt. This poison. So mystically insidious. Fight the poison. Walk the illusions with me. It begins with the child standing over you…”
Chapter 6
The Dream of Survival Begins
Lukas stood over his father in the passageway, keen senses identifying the scent of animal blood oozing out of every wound. “Shit… What did they do to you?” His scraped knees hit the pavement to turn the vampire over. Michael’s face was a mess with blood coating his skin like this was some horror movie. “I’ve got to get you out of here. I’ve got to get you out of—”
“The light of dawn… That’s what you were going to say. Am I correct?” The tall, thin older man spoke calm and steady as he approached. His hair was more salt than pepper. Dressed in a tweed jacket and dark gray pants, he looked like one of those college professors in a movie. “I’m equally horrified by what I see.” When he stood up, the man clasped a firm hand to his shoulder. Sensing no threat or any provocation, he didn’t flinch. “My name is Miles Bookman. I know what your father is. I also know who you are. Come. We must move him to safety.”
They both carried Michael into the deserted factory and lay the unconscious vampire on a soiled table. Earthly insects and spiders would do him no harm. He already knew this.
“You’re British or something. You talk like one, anyway.”
“Yes. But I’ve lived in Manhattan for thirty years. You have a good ear, young man,” the older man replied with a slight smile but didn’t take his eyes off Michael.
He ran his bloody hands down his jeans and sniffed the air. “There are others. Five beating hearts. Two are standing at each door.”
The man gave a serious nod, looked as if he could mentally catalog each ugly wound.
“They’re here to help.”
The fifth beating heart approached, and Lukas glared into bright olive eyes. The girl had dark skin with black hair reaching down to her waist. He sensed mystical strength, yet she was petite and pretty with a round face. Latino. Not much older than he.
“Hi, it’s Lukas, right? I’m Kayla—Kayla Gonzalez.” She smiled at him but addressed the man. “Philip’s bringing the van and the supplies, Mister B. Papa dropped me off at the corner. He said to tell you he’s got clearance and everything’s ready.”
“Good,” ‘Mister B’ replied. “Michael’s skin has a pasty gray hue. He’s going to need blood as soon as possible. We can transfuse him on the ride to Jersey. I don’t think tunnel traffic will be heavy this early. Your father is in great danger in this city, Lukas. So are you. We have to get as far away from here as possible.”
“Yeah, I get that,” he answered in a flippant tone, even though he felt relieved someone was helping him. “So why New Jersey? It’s not like there’s some vampire hospital across the river, is there? I don’t think they take the undead without Blue Cross.”
The concerned look changed to something akin to parental. “I’ve known about you for many years. I also know what you did a year ago and I know what you are capable of doing. Keep your attitude in check. Your father has made a multitude of enemies tonight and there is no time to explain. You must cooperate, even if you don’t understand. It is more important to get him and you out of danger, do you hear me?”
He tilted his head, sniffed the air again and stayed silent for a second, then gave a shrug. “We have company. Cargo van, smells like burning oil and the driver’s male.” A mischievous smirk began. “Is this, even though I don’t understand, cooperative enough for you…uh, Mister B?” Boom, he thought, victorious! But the raised eyebrow didn’t thrill him.
“I’m a parent myself, and for someone who just turned fifteen yesterday, angelic-face or not, smugness is not called for. Happy birthday, by the way.”
“Yeah, right.” Some birthday present. What a shit-show this is.
“Kayla, get the blood and the stretcher. We’ll transfuse immediately. He’s lost it all.”
“She’s one of those Guardians I’ve seen, right?”
“Yes.”
Troubled memories flood his brain. One short year ago, Guardians had seen his multiple attacks on Michael, but not one had ever interfered. Which was strange. Weren’t these mystical warriors supposed to protect humans? But then again, he isn’t human.
Mister B stared at him briefly. Then the man traced a sunken vein down the vampire’s arm, and worry lines appeared to deepen on his face. “This is worse than I thought.”
His whole body stiffened as uncomfortable ramped up to I’m-very-much-fucking-afraid. “What do you mean? You’ve got to be friggin’ kidding me. How could this get worse?”
Studying Michael’s shoulder, the man murmured, “Oh, my Lord, what did they do to you?”
Lukas didn’t know what to feel but seeing this amount of blood made him queasy as hell. He wanted to cry. He wanted to run away. Or really hurt someone or something really bad. He swallowed hard because of the lump in his throat and rubbed his bloodied palms down his jeans again. “He can’t you know die, can he? You’ll do something, right? I mean, anything you know how to do—you and these Guardians.”
No immediate answer came, but Mister B attached a tube to the bag of blood like an expert. Or a doctor. “Let’s try the jugular.” Adding as he drove the needle directly in and secured the tube, “We must leave immediately.”
Two Guardians lifted the injured vampire onto the gurney and covered him entirely to block the morning sun. Lukas followed, but stepping out of the building, he stared down at the broken asphalt. He sensed rumbling far below in the core of the earth, slithering its way up. What if they take me back…now that I remember? What if they know I’m here? Without thinking, he gripped the man’s arm. “Something’s happening. It knows we’re here.”
“Yes, I feel it too. But we are not sticking around to find out what it is. Get in the van.”
He didn’t argue, settling in next to Kayla. The other Guardians dispersed into the street, dropping out of sight in seconds.
Mister B turned to the driver. “Let’s go, Philip. Get us out of here.”
“You got it,” the driver replied. As they sped through the empty streets, the alleyway behind them crumbled deep into the earth, taking the dimensional portal with it.
****
Alana hated to clean. The third-floor apartment with a magnificent view of the harbor in Portofino began to sparkle—at least in her eyes. Just like a character in a fairytale, she’d gotten down on hands and knees, furiously scrubbing the floors with hot water and lemon oil. Her hands were rubbed raw now from the physical abuse of scouring, as opposed to staking vampires.
Everything gleams, the windows smudge-proof, and pillows fluffed against both beige leather armchairs. The kitchen sink is unusually empty and all appliances clean. Both tiled bathrooms positively sparkle. Mama Bookman would be properly impressed.
With every inch of her home now presentable, she thought about sleeping arrangements. Miles and Lukas would share the guestroom. Celia B took over the cozy sunroom whenever she stayed here. Michael would share her bed. She hurried to the master bedroom again, studied the exquisite antique furniture and a comfortable Queen Anne chair, which stood next to the nightstand.
She turned to the window, never imagining in her wildest dreams that she would use her aunt’s heavy drapes for this particular reason. To shield a vampire, to shield her eternal love from the strong Portofino sun. To see his handsome face again. To touch him, to hold him… I can protect you here. New longings full of need and want filled her soul.
Convincing herself to leave Manhattan over a year ago had taken sheer determination. It was better this way. Safer. Zia Rosa knew very little about him. It was as if she now had a different life. Like loving Michael had never happened.
Alana left the master bedroom to check the other bedroom still lost in thought, looking at one of the twin beds, trying to picture Michael’s son. Did Lukas look like his father? “His father,” she whispered as she rubbed her forehead with her arm, “Why didn’t you ever tell me about him, Michael? Why did I have to learn what was done to him by those evil things from Daddy B? And where did he go after a year of hunting you? There has to be more to this story.” More than her adopted father let on. “Did your sudden, new ‘position’ at NWT have anything to do with Lukas’s disappearance last year? You’re going to tell me everything I want to know when you get here.”
Unable to sit and relax, she moved through her spacious home two floors above a bookstore off the piazza. Then she stood at the dining room windows to check the busy street below. She remembered Celia B’s rant, the confused look on her sister’s usually happy face when saying how Michael had actually accepted a position with that totally disgusting company, NWT. Celia had said he flatly refused to discuss why he’d taken up with the well-known evil investment firm. “She said you knew exactly what had to be done.” He’d been tight-lipped, almost brusque, and it hurt Celia’s feelings. “I still find it puzzling—and I do not like puzzles. I didn’t push her to tell me more… and I walked away from you with my dignity intact.”
Checking the heavy drapes again, she knew the move to Italy had been good for her. “An ocean separating us is more than enough distance to mimic closure. The clean air and warm climate just enough to make me forget Manhattan, to forget everything that happened between us.”
She walked over to the hutch and straightened her favorite vase that matched the exquisite dinnerware displayed, the way anyone expecting company would. And living upstairs from her great-aunt, doing normal everyday things, had a healing effect on her. One she was grateful for. “I’ll see you though this…whatever it entails. There’s nothing left for you in Manhattan. I have all the time in the world to devote to you. You’ll be safe… And so will Lukas,” she added with an anxious heart.
The ring from her cell phone broke this reverie, and she hoped to hear only good news. Pulling it from her pocket, she gave a bright and positive, “Hi, Daddy B.”
“Hi to you, too. I’ve been calling the house line for hours. Is everything all right? I never put your cell phone number in my phone, so I had to call Celia.”
Alana walked over to the secretary in the living room to replace the house phone on its cradle. “Oops,” she said, a little less cheery, “I must have knocked it over while I was cleaning.”
“I’m sorry, did you say cleaning?”
She gave a short laugh. “Very funny. But it isn’t going to work. I hear it in your voice. Give it to me straight.” She dropped to the couch.
“We arrive in three hours… Late afternoon your time. Prepare yourself. He isn’t good. In fact, even I feel bad for the creature. Alana, did you hear me? Be prepared.”
It took a moment for the warning to set in, and her ‘bright’ voice dissipated. “Yes, I hear you. Thanks.” She flipped the cell phone off and put it on the coffee table. Looking around the spacious room and through the wide arch to the formal dining room, she couldn’t accept her adopted father’s words. “Three more hours? Maybe he’s a little worse than I thought. I’ve seen lots of ugly things during my ten years as a Guardian. How bad can he be?”
Just the thought of sitting around for another three hours made her edgy. She got off the couch and looked around again. Then she found a clean rag, soaked it in a fresh pail of hot water and lemon oil. “The floor could be cleaner.”
She pushed fear from her heart.
Chapter 7
In The Air
“So, who is Kayla’s father and why does he want to help,” Lukas asked as he checked out the jet’s magnificent interior. The trip to Teterboro Airport had been quick, only a few cars on Routes 3, 17, and 46. Already cleared for take-off, he was strapped in a plush leather chair that could recline.
“Cesar Gonzalez, Kayla’s father is the owner of Medico Research Labs. He has a private facility in Florence, Italy. Also, he is a member of the Georgian Circle’s Sovereign Council.”
Not interested in any kind of council, he asked, “Was he ever a Guardian?”
“Yes, he served and survived his ten-year mission.”
“So, he’s sneaking us out of the country?”
Miles nodded as he checked his seatbelt for the third time. “He has no trouble accommodating a research team and us. In fact, the bedroom is now an emergency room for Michael.”
“They know he’s a vampire, right?”
“Yes. They are aware of your father and his history. A separate, secret segment of Medico Research is dedicated to the study of unnatural creatures. They document the ones we capture in the human world, study their physiology, and analyze the ancient chemical compounds used by sorcerers who control other deadly things.”
“Are all these men part of your Georgian Circle thing?”
“Once again, correct, young man. Two of the very best of Cesar’s people are working on your father now.”
He needed to know more. “So, like, what are they doing?”
“Well, they have most probably cut off Michael’s bloodied clothes, placed everything in sterile specimen bags. The clothing will later be catalogued by Arthur Chamberlain, the demon specialist assigned to your father’s case. He is waiting for us in Italy.”
“Okay. Then what,” he asked, a little more curious.
“He will be covered with a hi-tech warming sheet with a portable examination board placed under him. It was created for the war arena in Iraq. It has an intricate web of sensors to detect even the slightest movement,” Mister B answered in a clinical tone.
“Wow. You know a lot of things.”
The man gave a slight smirk as one eyebrow raised. “It comes with the territory.”
After take-off, Lukas stopped asking questions. He settled in, although still edgy. One crazy night. Followed by an uncertain day. He opened the bag of pretzels given to him before—practically inhaled them and downed a cold can of soda before putting it in the cupholder attached to the chair. He’d been up over twenty-four hours and he closed his eyes, even though he’d never flown before.
****
Lukas awoke with a start and his senses began to hum. He had no idea how long he’d slept as he gripped the seat, focusing his acute ability to hear. The hushed conversation between the two scientists in the flying ER had his full attention. His fingernails sunk deep into the leather seat as one said to the other, “I’ve never seen something this injured. There isn’t a spot on this body that isn’t swollen, slashed, or bleeding, Baker.”
“This is a first for me too,” Baker replied.
“Wait… Did you see it? Did you get a reading?”
“It’s on the screen and I’m already noting the chart. Get Chamberlain on the phone.”
“I call confirmation: 3 hours, 42 minutes into flight—REM begins.”
“Well, what do you know…Our patient is dreaming.”
Lukas closed his eyes, wondering if Michael was actually capable of dreaming. Because he was afraid to dream, afraid of what he would see in his mind.
The poison spiked, swift and furious in Michael’s mind, vaguely aware of the two medics standing over him…
My body is so hot. A fire… seasoned wood gives off a fragrant, distinctive scent. Every breath hurts my lungs. The smoke-filled air is too dense to see through. I am suspended upside down, arms chained to my body, shackles around my ankles cutting deep into my flesh.
Fire crackles beneath, spitting flying embers to sting my face, to singe my hair, to burn my shoulders. In one quick plunge, I dip into the blazing bath of flames. It is beyond agony, but I do not die. My body flies up, into a holding position once again. I scream for it to stop; I beg for it to end.
“How long have you lived, demon? Did I hear someone whisper hundreds of years?”
I recognize the lyrical voice. My gentle mother, how I have wounded you in the heart. You, so full of life, so dear to me. Such remorse, such guilt. Her face appears. She glares at me through swollen eyes—then kisses my fevered brow. Her demeanor changes from contempt to compassion for one fleeting moment.
“I loved you, my son, so strong, so handsome. Why did you leave England? Why did you turn your back on me? This would never have happened if you had stayed at my side.” Her fingers brush my burning cheek.
Blood tears cloud my eyes. I choke on my words—unable to speak.
“Hush. Save your anguished cries. You have many more trials ‘till your soul is pure enough to stand with mine,” she whispers.
Her prophecy is punctuated by the roar of flames as I plunge into the pit once again.
