Demon Vampire
Written by Virgil Allen Moore
Erudite Small Press © 2013
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents within are either the product of the author’s wildly vivid and poetic imagination, or are used fictitiously to portray unreal events. Any resemblance to living or dead persons, businesses, general establishments, events, or locales, is purely and entirely coincidental.
DEMON VAMPIRE
Published by Erudite Small Press with permission granted by Virgil Allen Moore.
Printing History
October 2013 Erudite Small Press, Revised Edition
October 2011 Erudite Small Press, First Edition
All Rights Reserved. Copyright © 2011 – 2013
Cover ©2013 by Virgil Allen Moore. All Rights Reserved.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without written permission. Send email to
[email protected] or visit eruditesmallpress.com for information and to request any permissions.
Published by Erudite Small Press
All Rights Reserved. Copyright © 2013 Virgil Allen Moore
Look for these books in The Redgold Series
by Virgil Allen Moore
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Online Reviews
“As a HUGE fan of Anne Rice’s vampire stories...... Virgil Allen Moore blew me away with his Demon Vampire! I loved the transitions between present day and the past......... especially where this author goes WAY into the ANCIENT past! I want MORE books about these ancient vampires from Mr Moore! His characters bring the story to life, and he is gifted with that wonderful "Author Imagination" whereas the reader, we have forgotten lesser characters........ who suddenly appear in the story again, taking center stage! This book was simply put: GREAT! Anyone who is a fan of this genre........... put this on your "to read" list!”
- Christine Tuttle "chrissy"
“Some stories are like appetizers, others are like lunch and my favorites are like desserts. In the case of Demon Vampire, I can easily say it’s like a Thanksgiving Dinner with every single fixin’ you can think of! - When you finish the book, one thing I can almost bet is that you will go back and re-read Chapter One!”
- Ellie Mendez
“This is a very well written exciting new series. Virgil Allen Moore’s writing has a way of immersing you into his vampire world. Gone are the stereotypical vampires and legends. Mr. Moore quickly pulls us into his world where he rewrites the definition of vampire and leaves you craving for more. Not only do you find yourself personally invested with the characters, Mr. Moore toys with challenging our own morals as well as the characters of his new world. You can’t help but give in to the temptation to stay up until dawn to finish because you cannot stand to put it down. Best new series in a genre that has been lacking a great read for quite some time! Readers will find themselves counting the days until the next book to continue the series comes out.”
- Kathy
“I am unable to remove myself OUT of the book. It has totally sucked me into its realm! It’s like walking into a dream where you do not trust your senses because you do not know what is around the mist coming up off the ground. Dreams that feel so real you can feel the pain, taste the pleasures it has to offer and the darkness we all have inside of us. Demon Vampire has totally blown me away!”
- Nora Barteau
Chapters
Prologue – One
Prologue – Two
One – The Abomination and A Tainted Whisper
Two – The Sweetness Of The Dream
Three – Sway With Me
Four – Getting Up To Speed
Five – The Lady In The Dark
Six – Waking Back Up Into The World
Seven – Another Night Begins
Eight – Scripted Fate
Nine – Fate Has A Sense Of Irony
Ten – Kismet
Eleven – No Second Thoughts
Twelve – The Course Of Destiny
Thirteen – The Simpleton
Fourteen – The Meadow
Fifteen – The Illusion and The Gilded Blood
Sixteen – Failing Memory
Seventeen – More Than A Date
Sub Chapter – Black
Eighteen – Welcome To The Fold
Nineteen – The Request
Twenty – A Night On The Thin Red Line
Twenty One – The Education
Twenty Two – The First Truth
Twenty Three – The Small Things
Twenty Four – Lies In Truth To Save A Life
Twenty Five – Coming To Terms With Reality
Twenty Six – The Facts Of Life
Twenty Seven – The End Of One Life
Twenty Eight – An Intimate Moment
Twenty Nine – Come Inside
Thirty - Behind The Scenes
Thirty One – Cursory Explanations
Thirty Two – Preparation
Thirty Three – Option Two
Thirty Four – The Eventuality
Thirty Five – The Island in the Pale Still Water
Thirty Six – Redefining Terms
Thirty Seven – Finding The Path
Thirty Eight – Alternatives To Death
Thirty Nine – The Walk
Forty – Coming To Terms With A New Reality
Forty One – The Daylight Hours
Forty Two – Adapting
Forty Three – The Desire For Blood
Forty Four – A New Kind Of Different
Forty Five – Checking The Goods
Forty Six – Approval
Forty Seven – Finding Usefulness
Forty Eight – The Prelude
Sub Chapter – Red
Forty Nine – The Concert
Fifty – The Years In Between
Fifty One – More Time To Kill
Fifty Two – A Pleasant Haunting And Another New Life
Fifty Three – The Words In The Dream
Fifty Four – The Visage
Fifty Five – Back To Reality
Fifty Six – The Uncomfortable Conversation
Fifty Seven – A Simple Solution
Fifty Eight – Another Unwelcome Change
Fifty Nine – Being Alone With A Monster
Sixty – The Accusation
Sixty One – A World With Meaning
Sixty Two – Talking To A Demon
Sixty Three – The After-Hours Proposal
Sixty Four – The Unwelcome Guest
Sixty Five – An Old Friend
Sixty Six – The Ululation of the Nightmare
Sixty Seven – What Lies Within
Sixty Eight – The Ocean Rendered
Epilogue
Foreword
To the realities that propagate in our minds that we calmly tell ourselves do not exist - I ask you. If the worlds once rendered in a fleeting moment of joy and lust, can paint a vision of truth in sense and touch. Where lies fault in remembrance of those who have fallen from rust? Is it their fate to caste them off as dirt with a rinse as such?
Dreams create reality. They live in us until we give them sustainable form for all to see and hear. They are real. To treat them as less, would be a sin.
- Virgil Allen Moore
Special Thanks
To my loving wife for supporting my vivid imagination.
And to my won
derful fans for reading my story.
Prologue One
“If pain was a memory, time a test, and forgiveness the only measure of good left in this darkness: I will be endlessly tormented by the souls of those who never forgave me for what I became,” his eyes slipped into the embrace of a lucid dream as his voice faded into nothingness again.
Soft seamless skin united against a carapace of faces. White winding lace and flowing rivers of satin were clothed over a beauty that was beyond an all too perfect memory. The details of a gathering, people shaped around a central world filled with a lie woven into the veins of each delicate row. The feeling of a vivid moment returned. It was a sensation fated, meant to be, the years lost, only remembered now as an echo. The pressure of a kiss once so familiar, known, and welcome was there again. It was beautiful, it was everything they both longed and yearned for it to be. It was a union, perfect and loving in all the ways it should have been. It was theirs for the day, a wall of bliss unmatched by the horrors yet to be.
Small flakes of snow fell. They graced everything in sight. Slowly, the sections of white faded to gray and then to deep black. It touched the satin, the pale skin, darkening it with a sinister feel. The light quickly crept away from his eyes. He reached out to his loving bride. Their hands clasped, the pressure of each finger pulling on the next, failing. Blood flowed as her hand ripped away from his. A searing pain developed in the back of his eyes. It gave flashes of pure red, memories that forced him to remember the events that led to that day.
The dream was collapsing. The beauty was losing to the blackness that now covered the world. The pain was overwhelming the bliss that once held the moment. She was gone, his gorgeous wife was no longer there. Her warmth was extinguished, swallowed into the darkness.
The fleeting dream was lost, buried in a sea of experience.
Prologue Two
On an examination table in the basement of a hospital morgue, laid a strange sight. Black and bloody, it rested dead and motionless in its slumber.
“Twelve thirty four, subject doesn’t appear to be human,” the coroner determined with an alarmed look. He spoke aloud into a voice recorder above the table. His eyes paced over the body.
“Then what is it?” the young female medical intern asked reluctantly. “What could do this to someone?” she ran her gloved hand over the wet black plates that covered the whole of the corpse. “There’s no pulse, whatever it is, it’s dead.”
“It’s almost like armor, isn’t it?” the coroner remarked as he examined the lower left side of the creature, “and it’s missing a large piece of its abdomen.”
The intern tried to lift up one of the plates, it didn’t budge, “these are part of its skin.” She traced her fingers over the large wound on its side, “and these appear to be claw marks, or maybe even bites taken out,” she pointed to the edges of the broken plates. There were parts that had been torn at, rendered into pulp. The skin underneath was wet and dark, almost congealed. Blood pooled on the side of the examination table from the open wound. “It’s sad, really. He looks powerful whatever it is.”
The coroner watched in disbelief as he was forced to agree with a nod.
“Look, it’s a type of vampire. Whatever it is, it has fangs. At least what’s left of them,” the intern pulled back the remaining section of the upper left lip. The creature’s face had been ravished. Its lower right jaw bone was exposed. A few of its teeth were missing, but the sharpness of its fangs was clear enough. Its eyes were closed and covered with a black film over the lids. “Someone didn’t like him.”
The coroner sighed, “all this means is more paper work.”
“What do you mean? He’s a dead vampire, there’s not much paper work other than reporting it to the state. It’s someone else’s problem when it comes to figuring out who he was and how long he’s lived.” The intern couldn’t stop staring at the creature’s fangs. It was fascinating to her. She thumbed over them.
“Stop playing with those! He can still cut you,” the coroner shouted. “Besides, you’re overlooking one important thing. There’s a dead vampire on the table. No matter how weird this one is, he’s still in one piece.”
“So?” the intern questioned as she removed her hands from its face.
“So when was the last time you saw the remains of one? Or even heard of any remains?” the coroner crossed his arms. “They never come to us in this condition, this intact. It’s always charred clothing and a few remnants of bone. Or a dried husk if there is any form of a body. But never this, never this - whole of a thing.”
“Is that because it takes a lot to kill a vampire?” the intern guessed.
“Exactly. If this is a murder, than the person doing it usually wants to inflict as much damage as possible. To a vampire that means either sunlight, bleeding them out, or silver to stop their regeneration. But this doesn’t look like any of that. He appears to be torn at by something. This was done by raw force, not by exploiting a weakness. Whoever did this to him was-”
A loud crashing sound rang from the other side of the large open stainless steel room. They both ran to see what had happened.
“Sorry about that. I had placed your wife’s birthday present on the counter before I scrubbed out. I hope it isn’t too damaged from the fall,” the intern sighed and looked at the crumpled edge of the rectangular box that now laid on the floor.
“No, it doesn’t look that bad.” The coroner chuckled, “but that does help me to make a good point.” They walked back to the body on the table. “Let me ask you something. If you wanted to destroy that package, I mean really destroy it, what would you do to it?”
“I don’t know, I guess burn it, put it in a trash compacter or a shredder,” the intern gave it a passing effort as she again felt the stiffness of the black plates on the corpse. They were interwoven into each other, extending from under the skin itself.
“That’s my point. You know that you can burn it, crush it, and chop it up. There isn’t any other reason messing around with any other method. Otherwise, the present wouldn’t be destroyed. It’s the same with a vampire, except that if you fail, you’ll get your throat ripped out,” the coroner lifted up its left hand. It was clawed and covered in the same dark wet plates as the rest of the body, only smaller to allow for finer movement. “This is the part that bothers me. If the murderer did this to him, it means that this was the best way to kill him.”
“I don’t follow,” the intern was stumped as she reached for a fresh scalpel off the sterile tray.
The coroner put the limb down. “If it burns, burn it. If it bleeds, bleed it. If it can be poisoned, poison it. It’s simple with vampires. There are only a few ways to kill them. What troubles me is that if the murderer had to rip a piece of his face and stomach out to kill him, does that mean he couldn’t be killed any other way?”
The intern tried to cut into one of the plates. It didn’t cut. She put the knife down on the side tray. She thought about the enigma for a minute as she paced to the far side of the room and back again. A chill ran down her spine as she read into it.
“Well? Am I wrong?” the coroner followed, waiting for an answer.
There was another crash. This time it was the scalpel that had just been placed on the tray stand.
“You’re not wrong,” a deep voice bellowed out, filling the room. It had a rumble to it that was disturbing, inhuman.
There was a feeling that the air became instantly colder. The intern and the coroner turned suddenly to see the black creature sitting upright on the exam table. It was inches from them. Its eyes were still closed. The black liquid covered them entirely. Its plated skin moved and shifted over its wounded side. It filled itself as they watched. The jaw that was once exposed, closed. The dark substance slid into place to reform the other half of its lips. The face was whole again. The eyes shifted to reveal an unsettling pure white. It was staring at them without real eyes.
The coroner and the intern stood, shivering in pl
ace, not knowing how to react. The chill in the room became more pronounced. The intern shivered and the coroner’s hands began to shake at his side.
The creature took in a deep breath, filling its collapsed lungs. It restored itself. The coroner stepped back towards the foot of the table with the intern. They slowly made it to the far end of the room, more than thirty feet from the only door. It was the farthest away from the creature they could get.
“I was having such a nice dream. I hate when I wake up,” the dark voice boomed again, echoing throughout the sterile room. “Another failed attempt,” it was sad, subdued. It jumped down from the table and landed without a sound. It was graceful, too graceful to look like it did. “Did they find my mask?” it asked calmly as it stared at the coroner.
“You didn’t have anything on you when you came in,” the coroner managed to say, shaking as he held his female intern behind him and to the side. He was trembling more than she was. Her right hand gripped his upper arm with all her strength.
The intern shifted her eyes to a clear belongings bag near the door. She said nothing. It was only out of fear that she remembered the small bag that the local examiner brought along.
“I see. Thank you.” The creature disappeared from sight and reappeared next to the bag.
The intern stared in horror. She spoke automatically, under her breath to the coroner, “But he had no pulse, I don’t understand. How did he regenerate without any flowing blood? I read all the reports from the original study in New York. Dr. Thompson was very clear on their regeneration abilities. He shouldn’t even be able to stand right now. Not with that much blood loss.”