Demon Vampire

He struck the tall man in the chest. His fist sunk into the flesh like a soft pillow. The other men around him reacted slowly to his sudden burst of aggression. They didn’t understand what had actually happened.

  His new body thought for him, ahead of him. It was almost automatic. Two of the five men ran at him. He pulled his hand from the tall man and struck both of the two attackers square in the neck. Their throats sprayed arterial blood across the dock as his fingers pierced deep through the skin. The tall man fell to the floor with from the gaping wound. The last two ran off into the distance.

  He had surprised himself. His movements were flashes in the night. He had dominated the scene with little effort. He moved to chase after the two fleeing men. He attacked them from behind and embedded his forearms into the remaining men. The impact caused their chests to explode. They went limp, dead from the sudden trauma. The old sailor watched as he slaughtered these men in front of his eyes. Within twenty seconds, all five men were dead.

  The fisherman stood as Del walked back to him, his arms saturated in blood.

  The sailor spoke up, his voice gruff and tattered, “I don’t know what the hell you are boy, but you just saved my ass.” The fisherman hacked up a wad of spit onto one of the dead men. “Rot in hell, ‘ya bastard.” There was a gleam in the old man’s blue eyes. He was blatantly happy these men were dead. He was happy Del had come along when he did.

  He felt uneasy. He wasn’t sure what the man would do next. He had no intention of killing him for his blood. In the same thought, he did commit a graven crime that this man had clearly witnessed.

  He asked the sailor a straight question, “you aren’t going to tell anyone about this are you?”

  “Are you kidding?” the sailor kicked the tall man in the chest. Blood splattered onto his boot. “They were ‘gonna kill me, those bastards. You did me a favor.” He spit on another one of the corpses lying on the ground.

  “Aren’t you afraid of me?” he was cautious. He felt out the sailor for what kind of man he was.

  “Boy, if you wanted to kill me, I’d be dead. I’m not dead, so that means you’re hired,” the man extended his right hand.

  “Hired for what?” He did need a job. He still wanted to finish school and become a lawyer. However, he realized that being a monster that drains the blood from living creatures caused a hindrance to that objective.

  “The name’s Bill Saunders. What’s yer’s stranger?” the arm of acceptance was still fully extended.

  He shook Bill’s hand delicately. He tried not to smear too much blood on him, “It’s Del Marin.”

  Bill took his hand in with both of his and squeezed. His grip was impressive. He didn’t seem to mind about the blood at all. His hands were equally dirty. Grease stains were smudged into each facet of his hands. He was a working man. “My friends call me BS, or Bill if you’d like. Well, Del’s a nice name, but I’m a gonna call you Marin.” He took out a small red rag from his pocket and wiped his hands off. “The jobs for security. After we take these guys off shore, there’ll be more wantin’ to buy up my place. I can’t have that. As it seems, I can’t defend myself against that either. That’s where you come in.”

  “Mr. Saunders-” he didn’t like the idea of killing men for hire.

  “-It’s Bill. And I’m not paying ya’ to kill people, just to defend yer’self the way you defended me tonight,” he explained the terms.

  “But what if someone starts asking what happened to these men?” he asked Bill.

  “That they just left one day and we hadn’t seen them since.” Bill smiled at him. He knew his explanation was spotty at best. “Besides, no one would ever think I could fend off this many of them, let alone kill them like this. Hell, it’ll make them think twice about roughin’ me up next time. From now on, you work for me Marin.”

  He thought about his ailment, “I can only work at night. I have a condition that prevents me from being in the daylight. Is that acceptable?” he attempted to be discrete about his new body as the blood dripped from his fingertips.

  Bill looked him over again, “hell, if I thought you were normal, I’d have to introduce myself as a leprechaun. Shit boy, whatever the hell you are, you’re a godsend to me. I won’t pass something like that up either. You’re hired!” He clapped his hands together, “now let’s take care of this before anyone starts asking questions. Help me load the bodies onto the long boat over there.”

  A twenty eight foot fishing trolley lay at the far end of the dock. It was painted a water logged pale blue and white. Its fishing mast hung high in the night wind with old tires rigged on the sides to keep it from scraping against the dock. It looked barely functional. It was a beaten, almost broken boat. He saw it as an interesting project. But a project worth doing.

  He decided to agree to Bill’s request. He assisted him with repairing the boat while he guarded the area as well. He had gained an honest job where he could make the tuition money he needed to go back to school. He found a local college that gave evening law classes. He had Bill track down all the paperwork needed to start up on his degree again. He began to feel human again.

  Chapter Forty Eight

  The Prelude

  Zack finished with the new red tie. He arranged it in a double Windsor. Kyli was impressed. She added a few touches and combed his hair into a loose, stylish fray. He was handsome.

  They gathered a few things from her room and went on their way to the concert. The ride was relaxing. Her station wagon was a luxurious transport. He thought about David’s intentions. The lie he told and what he was hiding. As distracted as he was, his eyes kept luring him to her neckline. She was seductive enough without the effort of a red dress. He could smell the cherry and lavender scent hovering in the car. That sweet scent again.

  She turned to him and lifted his chin with her right index finger, “thinking about anything interesting?”

  He nodded. He sat back in the car seat. His head ached again.

  “Sorry about that, you haven’t drank anything since this morning, have you? Open the glove box, I have a few bottles that I keep just for times like this,” she said as she gestured to the oversized compartment.

  He reached into the custom refrigerator that held three glass bottles that were filled with blood. He opened one and drank. The sensation of milk slid down his throat. It was soothing. The headache vanished.

  “Zack there’s something I need to tell you about the virus. The pheromones we put out are different. Vampires constantly exude them, that’s why they have such a powerful sway on the opposite sex. We don’t. We only secrete them at certain times,” she was nervous. There was something she wasn’t honest about. A half-truth that she was trying hard to mask.

  “It’s okay. I’ve figured that much out. You smell different when you’re,” he was about to give up too much so he dialed back his tone, “excited. Don’t worry, I’ll keep calm.”

  She placed the car in the back of the lot and shifted into park, “you surprise me again. I didn’t think you would pick that much up from our little talks.”

  “I can pay attention when the subject interests me,” he stared into her thin blue eyes and placed his hand on hers.

  “That’s a good test,” she smiled and leaned into him. She smelled his neck. He was delicious but he didn’t smell like a vampeal. It wasn’t the same sweet scent she was used to. He really was different.

  “Are you enjoying yourself?” his words caught her off guard.

  She leaned back and shied away from his hand. It took her a moment to regain her composure. “Zack, there will be vampires at this concert, more vampires than not. In a normal setting, vampires hate vampeals,” her face was grim. She had second thoughts about bringing him to the concert, to the party that followed. Suddenly, she didn’t want him to meet Marin. She didn’t want him to die.

  He continued to stare back into her eyes. It bewildered her.

  She thought about what was to
come, “if they want to, they’ll kill you out of principal alone. Remember what I told you before. You’re a living symbol of infidelity to their entire race. Older vampires take that sort of thing very seriously. It means that you are a walking insult to what it means to be a vampire.” She broke eye contact and got out of the car.

  He followed her toward the double doors of the concert hall. As he approached he noticed how well lit it was. It appeared to be an exclusive event. There were six bouncers that guarded the entrance checking identification and tickets. They were all large men and they were of all different ethnic backgrounds.

  He remembered what David said about a vampire not needing body guards and grinned. They certainly needed big enough bouncers. He thought for a fleeting moment about the strength of the men and wondered how strong he had actually become since that morning. A small flash of challenging them flooded his mind. They smelled good. As quickly as the thought entered his head, it was gone as they passed by.

  The entrance had a small row of steps that led up to what looked like the front door of a New York style apartment building. It was small except for the decked out gold trim with silver accents. An extravagant banner declared the event to be ‘The 5th Annual International Tour of Demetrius Del Marin.’

  He turned to her before they reached the door, “will you be safe here?” He was concerned about her.

  She began to blush slightly, “I don’t have anything to worry about.” Her smile turned to a look of dismay as she tried to hide her doubts about what was about to happen later that night.

  Two smaller ushers stood on either side of the door. One leaned over to open it. No one asked for them for tickets or checked their IDs. One of the two gave her a map to their seats.

  They were alone again in transit. The inner hall was dark. The concert would start soon. A large red curtain stretched across the stage. Recessed lighting dimly lit the room to let people find their way. The ceiling was high and vaulted. It framed the stage as the center of the event. The dark glossed stage mirrored the red curtain above it. It was fitting for a vampiric performance.

  She spoke to him quietly, “don’t be offended by anything anyone says here. Keep your cool no matter what happens. Vampires can be very judgmental at a pin drop. Be submissive if we separate.”

  She led him to the front row seats in the curved half stadium. She sat to his right with her legs crossed. They waited for the show to begin.

  He leaned into her, “so what’s the secret?”

  She slowly turned to him, “of what?”

  “The concert,” he thought about the possibilities.

  She smiled and turned back to the stage, “watch the concert. It’ll be simple to explain soon.”

  Everyone was dressed and pressed. He found it odd that no one was wearing red. He wondered why David asked him to wear this certain tie over the other. He knew that Kyli’s outfit was ostentatious but there had to be a reason why no other woman there had the gall she seemed to naturally possess in order to wear that dress. He thought about it, then decided to let it go. The answer would come soon enough.

  The overhead house lights dimmed. The red curtain drew back to the far corners of the room. A bright white spotlight shined down to the left side of the now open dark stage. A tall man with pale skin and a very thin build appeared. His eyes were strong, piercing. He quickly smiled to the audience as he walked to the center of the stage next to a standing podium. As he strolled, candles behind him spontaneously lit up as he passed and continued to the other side as he reached the stand. He stood peacefully, waiting to take the microphone into his hand.

  The announcer spoke over the house P.A. system, “introducing the vampire, Demetrius Del Marin!”

  The crowd cheered. She perked up and smiled next to him. The pre-show was about to begin. He didn’t know what to think. He distinctly remembered that vampires didn’t like to say they were vampires. She had told him as much. And here was one declaring that very fact openly to a sold out concert hall of people.

  Demetrius Del Marin began, “I am glad to see you. I welcome you all. Please line up, my precious notes.” He was glib as he spoke and looked up to the announcer in the back. “And call me Marin, as my friends do,” he spoke with an eerily bold, yet reserved tone. There were small moments of hesitation. He was nervous for some reason. He was anticipating something to come.

  He wondered why a vampire would be anxious of anything. Though he could plainly see it on Marin’s face. There was a way his eyes moved across the room. He was searching for someone.

  Marin wore a black suit the same as everyone in the crowd. The only difference was that he had a red silk tie, identical to the Christmas-red tie he was wearing. No one else had red on, except for Kyli. He thought there had to be a reason for it.

  Marin had a well-defined chin, not broad, but edged. His cheeks were gaunt. He had pale superficial indents under his dark brown eyes. His hair was thin long and black. His skin was soft and clean. He wore his hair down to his lower back. It blended into the dark backdrop behind him. It was completely straight with no wave to speak of. His suit looked like a wedding tuxedo. He stopped scanning the crowd as his eyes rested on Zack. His face froze for a moment. He stared for what seemed too long and finally stepped backward a few feet.

  The podium lowered into the floor. A table with thirty two crystal wine goblets and a red velvet clothe draped around it came up in its place. A black chair stood behind the table. Marin took his seat. He opened a small black bag and waited for his ‘notes’ to arrive.

  A large line of volunteers assembled at one end of the stage. One by one, people from the crowd approached Marin. Individually they held their hands out palm up to him. He quickly examined each of their wrists. The first two were turned away. They exited the stage and went back to their seats as politely as they had walked up. The third came up. She was a young girl of possibly eighteen. She outstretched her right arm and faintly looked away as she held still. She braced for something as he caressed her wrist with his thumb. He reached for a hypodermic needle from the bag and opened its packaging. He inserted it into the girl’s wrist with one fluid motion. He attached the other end of the tubing led to one of the goblets in the back row near him. He carefully filled it partially. He ensured no blood was spilled as he clamped off the tubing and removed the needle. Then he thanked the girl as an usher escorted her off the stage to a waiting bay while her wrist clotted. He moved to the next person in line and repeated the process of denial and acceptance until he had thirty-two goblets perfectly filled with different levels of blood in them.

  As the thirty-second person’s blood was drawn, Marin dismissed the remaining line. The house lights dimmed. All of the ‘notes’ had been chosen. He was almost ready to begin the concert.

  “Thank you my notes. For you, I will play a symphony for all in the room to watch and for you to especially enjoy,” Marin spoke into the microphone clipped to his tie.

  Marin dipped his fingers in a small low rimmed white cup of water. He began to play Beethoven’s ‘Moonlight Sonata.’ He started immediately, without testing any of the notes in the glasses first. The docile melodies were unique to the blood goblets. They produced a sound that relaxed everyone in the audience. His movements were mechanical, not flowing in any preconceived way. The concert hall was enthralled. It was glorious.

  He had never heard a musical instrument come close to the sultry intonation of the blood held in the crystal goblets. He watched the room as most of the audience nearly cooed from the hypnotic rhythm Marin played. He had seen a few people play water glasses in the past at school talent shows and at county fairs when he was younger. Blood was different. It had a special sound. It was deeper, fuller than water. It swept the ear with a feeling that moved the soul. It was amazing to hear.

  A smile graced his him as he thought of the old adage that blood was thicker than water. It certainly sounded like it was true when it came to music as well. I
t rang with a deeper tone.

  Her hand gently slid over and stroked the top of his as the song played out before them. It felt good. It was warm at first. Then it burned as their hands joined. He wanted the moment to last. He closed his eyes and dreamed of the serene field that he last saw in his nightmares. He concentrated on the beauty. He thought about the overcast that showed the euphoric sway of the wheat tips in the wind. It was bliss.

  He could picture her in her red dress next to him, in the calming meadow. The weather tugged at the constraints of the fabric. She smiled. Her eyes closed in a squint. Without sound, she mouthed the words ‘I love this, Zack. You really are special.’ He could hear her voice in his head. Her voice whispered to him as the sonata played on. He closed his eyes tighter and listened to the melody.

  Sub Chapter

  Red

  There was a sound. It was similar to a feeling of pleasure and pain. It pierced his being. It did not ring, but it chose to linger in his thoughts. A warm sensation blanketed his skin. This was a dream.

  He could sense there was someone else with him. They were kind, but playful. He spoke out, “who are you?”

  “That’s a difficult question you ask,” the voice was soft, effeminate. “Who are we all but things that play with time?” the voice was near him. The words breathed on his skin, on the back of his neck. “I am what I want you to think I am and everything I wish myself to be.”

  He knew this voice, it was deeper than he remembered, but he knew it. It was, “Kyli.”

  “A name is only as good as the words associated with it, the memories related to it. What use do I have for a name in this world?” her words, her whole way of speaking were not her own. This was someone else, something that was using her voice.

  “How do I know who you really are? How do I know you’re not some figment of my imagination?” he posed the question aloud.

  “You don’t, but I’m not,” the voice spoke up.