Bull-fucking-shit.
“What are you going to do to him?” The thought of something happening to Disco made my heart contract.
“We do not give answers freely, but as you did not summon me, I will oblige your curiosity. I seek reimbursement of his debt through you, Rhiannon Murphy.” It extended a finger, turning its head at an unnatural angle, displaying more teeth. “The mark you bear and the blood within your veins solidifies Gabriel Trevellian’s dominion. That which he owns is subject to the bargain.”
I swallowed thickly and asked, “What do you want?”
“You are in possession of Marigold Vestas’ amulet. I require that, as well as one other payment to consider the debt settled.”
It took a step forward, smiling maliciously. Unexpectedly, it stilled, pupils becoming snakelike. Thrusting back its lips, it bared fangs. “You reek of heaven’s light.” The demon stepped away from me, snarling and dropping the human façade.
“You mean this?” I dug the pendant out of my pocket and the flaming eyes sparked, burning liquid gold. I took an unbalanced step backward, covering the charm with my fingers.
Zagan snorted, keeping a distance. “Yes.”
“And the other payment?” I asked warily.
The demon paused, stared at me angrily, and inhaled again. Shaking its head and coughing, it cleared its nose in repeated snorts. “The delivery of a message.”
“A message?” I asked suspiciously. It sounded too easy.
“I require the amulet and a message delivered, nothing more.” Rusty citrine eyes stared me down, the pupils in the center shifting to a vivid lime green. “I wished to have you serve as my pet in perdition, but God’s hand still lingers on you.”
“What kind of message?” I said a prayer to God, thanking Him for allowing me to bask in the light the pearly gates, if only briefly.
Zagan smiled impishly, dipping its long narrow chin, staring at me through heavy bronze-lashed lids. “I want you to tell Gabriel Trevillian our debt has been settled.”
“That’s it?”
It couldn’t be that easy. No fucking way.
“That’s it.” The demon nodded. He smiled again, his white teeth flashing.
I didn’t see how this could be a bad deal. The debt would be paid. The amulet would return to hell where I was sure it belonged. And I was on my way back to see Disco. I could settle everything in less than an hour.
“If I give you the amulet and give Gabriel the message, then it’s done and over?”
“Yes.”
“Nothing more than that?”
“Nothing more than that.”
Wary but hopeful, I extended my hand with the amulet. “Okay.”
“You accept the deal?” it asked, teeth gleaming, eyes ignited.
I hesitated before answering, “Yes.”
“Excellent!” Zagan clapped spidery hands together, the nails at the tips long and rounded. It reached for the amulet, holding its breath until it was at a breathable distance from me.
“Pick a number.” It danced back and forth on long limbs, grinning gleefully at the pendant in its hand.
“What?” I frowned, caught off guard by the request.
“Pick a number,” it said again, smiling playfully.
I wanted to leave and get to Disco. I had just made a bargain with a demon for him. If that didn’t convey the magnitude of my feelings, nothing would.
“Pick a number,” Zagan repeated, becoming moody, staring at me through slitted eyes. “And you will be able to deliver my message.”
Spotted Dalmatian puppies came to mind, and I blurted, “One-hundred and one.”
“One-hundred and one.” Zagan cackled, lifting its head. After a pause, a grin spread across its face, becoming a terrifying smile. “Now, for the second part of our bargain.”
The demon’s androgynous face contorted as it came toward me. The eyes slit, opal pupils crackling like snake eyes, teeth sharpening into miniature triangles of white. The black patches near its temples spread out, marring the skin in big uneven splotches.
I stumbled back as the putrid stench of sulfur stole my breath, falling at the side of my bed, staring up in horror.
“Deliver my message and all debts are paid.”
Long, lean fingers touched my forehead, burning my skin. My room disappeared. Flashes of color, images of unknown faces, and the hurried sounds of traffic, death, and sulfur combined. I screamed, equilibrium off kilter, and fell back, crashing through windows of color, some in shades I’d never seen, faster and faster.
The world came to a deafening halt and I hurled, vomit overflowing from my stomach in painful heaves. I turned onto my knees, spewing out my lunch and holding my stomach. My muscles spasmed until there was nothing left to expel and the world stopped spinning. I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth and stilled.
Instead of carpet, I’d vomited onto asphalt. I sniffed through my nose, eyes watering with unshed tears, and lifted my head.
The sun was setting, maybe another forty-five minutes until it sank behind the horizon, and I was in a filthy dead end alley. I lifted myself on wobbly legs, swiping my lips with my fingers to make sure they were clear of any leftover up-chuck.
I didn’t know what the hell Zagan had done but it couldn’t be good. My hair on the nape bristled, warning me that something was very wrong. I was in SoHo, not far from the BP, but the street was deserted. There were no animals, no people crowding the sidewalks, no cabs on the street. And most frighteningly, there was no sound.
I plodded along, looking around for any signs of life. Was I in another dimension? Did Zagan lie and send me to hell anyway? Movement caught my attention, and I whirled around anxiously. A man was scuffling down the street with a black garbage sack, moving as fast as his thin legs could carry him. His hair was buzzed short, jeans and T-shirt worse for the wear.
“Excuse me!” I yelled.
I tried to intercept him, but he ignored me, walking faster. My knee protested as I struggled to keep pace. Catching up with him, I touched his arm. He lost his balance and his bag fell to the ground, along with several books and pieces of paper.
“Look at what you did!” he screamed and bent down to collect his things, shoving them hurriedly into the plastic bag.
“What’s the problem?” I asked, picking up some of the books and collecting them in my arms.
“The sun is setting, that’s the problem. I never should have come out this late, and from the looks of it, neither should you!”
He snatched the remaining books from my hands and stood, leaving some of the papers scattered on the sidewalk at our feet. He took off in a frantic jog, the black plastic bag rustling in front of him.
I fell back on my ass, the busted knee throbbing miserably. A newspaper was next to my hand, and I when I saw the headline, I lifted it with trembling fingers, certain it was a joke.
The header, printed in old English text, identified the newspaper as The Blood Times. The feature article was entitled, “The Future Of Blood Supply As Human Numbers Dwindle”. I scanned over it, reading about something called The Renfield Syndrome, a virus that had wiped out a majority of the population during the third world war between humans and vampires.
I flipped the paper over with shaking hands, staring at the classifieds.
People were presenting themselves on the market, offering blood and servitude in exchange for eternal life. There were details, as if they were nothing more than varieties of livestock on the open market—male, female, fat, skinny, tall, short, young, and old.
They even mentioned blood type.
I pulled the shaking paper toward my eyes, reading the bold date at the top right hand corner.
October 28th, 2109.
I didn’t have to do the math. It was simple. Add one-hundred years to 2008 and carry over the one. Zagan had sent me into the future, using the number I’d picked from the top of my head as his marker.
I lifted my face toward the darkening sky as reality sa
nk in.
I was in the same dimension, but now humans were the endangered species, vampires were out of the closet, and here I was—sitting on my ass while the sun dipped below the horizon, bringing on the night.
Rhiannon’s Law #101: Never make a deal with a demon. They are evil bastards that will screw your ass over and take you back to the future.
Where the hell did Doc park the DeLorean?
About the Author
Married for almost seven years (god bless the man), I am also a full-time Mother to four. In my free time I enjoy reading and writing, listening to great music (I am a huge NIN fan), shooting a game of pool (straight eight if you please), or watching an excellent horror movie.
Please visit J.A. Saare’s website at…
http://www.jasaare.com
Available now from Eternal Press
Lizzie’s Listening
by Mackenzie Drew
Eleven year old, Lizzie Harper is a family’s worst nightmare. She is a compulsive killer and nothing short of a demon child. When Rachael Barter applies for a housekeeping job and is hired, little does she realize she will eventually assume the role of surrogate mother to an evil child that has the same traits as Satan, himself.
“Lizzie. You come out here this instant or I’ll go get your mother,” she yelled as she approached the white gate enclosing the cemetery. A distant noise startled her. She gripped the fence and stood wide-eyed. “This isn’t funny, young lady. You don’t scare me in the slightest.”
Of course, Lizzie did scare the hell out of her. Lizzie was a warped young soul, but none of it had to do with Rachael’s care. She taught her right, with morals and values; to respect others. Well... at least she thought she did.
“Misssssss Barter.” Lizzie poked Rachael on the back, causing her to leap forward. She jerked around, her hand across her chest. “Where have you been? And where’s Piper?”
Available now from Eternal Press
Chosen
by Angela Daniels
It only took one bite....now, the only way to free herself from the addiction is to kill him.
After vampire Lukoran first tastes Shauna, he induces an obsessive desire in her to be tasted again. To again feel that exquisitely pleasurable pain. Like an addict, she will crave it until it consumes her and she loses her freedom. Maybe even her life.
Although she’s felt the touch of many other vampires, no one can satisfy her never-ending craving as only the giver of the first bite can. That’s why she’s tracked down Lukoran tonight. She’ll rid herself of his hold over her—even if she has to kill him.
Shauna ignored the shapes for the moment and let the music pound into her bones. When her body started to move in a dance, the percussion of the music directed it. It was a hard, violent dance, just the way she liked it. Her head jerked, unhampered by her short spiked blond hair, as her stomping combat-boot-clad feet kept a different rhythm.
Next to her, Kia appeared to be in trance though she only swayed slightly, swinging her long brown curls in a hypnotic rhythm. The calm in the storm. Her light dress billowed this way and that from the chaotic movement around her, showing glimpses of smooth mocha skin.
Shauna absorbed the chaotic dances of those around her, feeling their dances in her body one at a time. This one, sensual and serpentine; that one, angry and convulsive. She opened to the energy of each and knew they opened to her in turn. This ability to project one’s senses was a gift from their hosts, from the Brethren gazing at them from the sidelines. She opened herself up to feel them now, hoping to tempt one to taste her. The possibility of ecstasy, the promise of pain.
Shauna felt a tingling along the surface of her skin, just on her arms at first, but quickly spreading. Oh, yes! The first signs of a tasting! The Brethren’s touch began to solidify and Shauna felt a joyous thrill as she thought she recognized the touch of Lukoran.
Available now from Eternal Press
The Vampire Family
by Kristin Battestella
Sadistic? Check. Domination? Check. Happiness? Not for all.
Antonio Welshire accepts the mysterious Mestiphles’ offer for vampiric power, but fails to consider that not all in his family desires evil. Daughter Victoria revels in the debauchery, but eldest daughter Samantha loathes the darkness. Enemies are in no short supply when the family turns to darkness. Charismatic rebel Gaston turns up to rival for Antonio’s power; the vampire lover Jean can destroy them once and for all, and henchwoman Lilith seeks to supplant Antonio as Mestiphles’ favorite.
Who will be declared the victor? And in the end, though they’ve survived coven wars and persecutions since the 12th century, can this vampire family survive each other or will they self destruct before the 21st century?
The sun rose and Elizabeth woke in the pile of sheepskins by the fire. Antonio slept soundly in his own huddle. She caught a dreaming smile on his face; then it was gone. Ann was piled nearby, but she turned in a restless sleep. Elizabeth stretched and rubbed her eyes. She remembered the horrifying events belonging to last night and winced at a twinge in her leg.
She slid from the makeshift bed and took a few sheepskins with her to the door. Her stride was awkward. Her limp would be there forever because of her injuries. She reached for the latch.
Could I? Should I?
She slid the bolt carefully, but it squeaked a little. Her gaze fell to the floor of sheepskins. Antonio stirred, but did not wake. She grasped the handle and slowly opened the door.
Mother Eira stood frozen in the snow, a contorted and morbid statue. Her arms were in the air, fists clenched in their banging position. Frozen blood lined her arms and the collar of her sheepskin. The eyes were open, blue irises glazed over with a white frost. Forever was her mouth to be open, too. Her tongue captured midway between the chapped lips, and saliva dangled like icicles from what yellow teeth she had.
Elizabeth opened her mouth to scream, but a strong hand cupped her mouth shut. Antonio whispered in her ear, “Ann is still sleeping.”
He removed his hand, and Elizabeth looked into his cold blue eyes. She had not thought of him much before Father Welshire’s fall, but now she did fear him. His own will was his motivation, even when he cared for her. Antonio forced a disquieting smile, but Elizabeth was captivated by the opal-colored eyes.
They are so mysterious. Deceptive. Frightening!
Antonio shut the door on his mother and returned to the fire.
J.A. Saare, Dead, Undead, or Somewhere in Between
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