Authors: Brandon Massey
His gaze flicked over Mamu's corpse.
Father needed to feed on him. Now, he needs another.
Mamu's death caused me sorrow, but I shall go on, for it was
for a great purpose, my father's survival. What would it hurt
me to kill a stranger to keep him alive?
The coldness of Kyle's thoughts frightened him. He considered himself a civilized vampire, a lover of culture and
art, with refined tastes and habits. Yet he was thinking of regressing into the kind of vampire that he despised: the ruthless predator.
He went to Diallo. Hunger twisted his father's face. A
face so much like his own.
Diallo's hand found his, squeezed tightly.
"Hunt for me, my son," Diallo whispered. "Save me ""
He had waited almost one hundred seventy years to find
his father. Was a human's life worth that much? A human
would never live to such an advanced age.
He could not deny his father.
He would not.
He would do anything to keep Diallo alive.
Kyle covered his father's hand with his own.
"I'll return soon," he said.
Kyle drove the Lexus sport utility into town.
Briefly when he had climbed in the vehicle, he'd thought
about Mamu and how he typically drove Kyle everywhere
that he needed to travel. Then he cleared memories of his
friend out of his thoughts. He could not afford to think of
any humans in kind, familiar terms, not while he was engaged on this mission. Nothing could distract him from his
purpose.
He was a good but cautious driver. Mother had warned
him about the pitfalls of automobiles. Humans are reckless,
she had taught. It is far too easy for you to be ensnared in a collision; think of the furor you would cause if the humans witnessed you walking away from a head-on wreck, unscathed.
Or what if you were to lose consciousness and they took you to
one of their hospitals and discovered your unusual blood ...
Kyle could not quiet her somber voice of wise advice.
As he motored down the steep road, the town unfolded
before him, lights twinkling. It was fifteen minutes past
eleven.
He hoped that most of the residents had taken to bed. He
could not risk being seen.
He turned onto a residential street. Porch lights glimmered on many of the ranch-style homes.
He remembered the last time he had hunted. He had been
one hundred and twenty-seven years old, living in Paris. He
and his mother had gone to the theater one evening, and after
the performance, they followed a young couple along the
city streets. Mother led the hunt. She swept toward the couple and forced them into a dark alley with the power of an
unstoppable gale. She fell upon the man; Kyle took the
woman. He would always remember the terror that had shone
in the woman's eyes as his hands grasped her shoulders in an
iron grip ... the sigh of pleasure that escaped her when he
sank his fangs into her warm, tender neck ... and the cloying scent of her perfume mingled with the coppery odor of
fresh blood.
A delicious shiver coursed along his spine and rattled
through his arms, making his hands tremble on the steering
wheel. But nausea followed soon after. The thought of
touching his lips to germ-ridden human flesh seemed so repulsive, so primitive.
But he could never forget the rapture of sucking blood directly from an artery and into his mouth.
He reached an intersection. He turned onto a road that appeared to be darker, with fewer homes.
He parked in front of an unlit house. A nearby elm tree
concealed the Lexus in additional covers of darkness.
Still, the luxury sport utility was glaringly conspicuous in
the humble town. He regretted that he had allowed Mamu to
acquire the vehicle. However, he reminded himself that
hunting amongst the townspeople had never been part of his
original intent.
He climbed out of the truck. The thump of the closing
door echoed down the desolate street.
He drew his leather gloves more tightly across his hands.
Perspiration coated his palms.
He had never hunted alone. Mother had always accompanied him.
But her teachings returned to him: You are a prince of the
night. Use darkness to your advantage, revel and cloak yourself in it. At night, the world belongs to us.
A breeze swirled around him, carrying the scent of flowers and the singing of crickets and other creatures.
The world belongs to us ...
His eyes slid shut.
Like a man submerging a net in a river in search of a fish,
Kyle cast his mind into the atmosphere. He sought the warm
pulse of a human life. Someone young, but not a child. An
adolescent, yes, with ripe blood that would nourish his father.
Within seconds, he had found one.
His prey was a few blocks away. Not too far to travel by
foot. A distance he could cover rapidly.
He stretched forward, and to a human eye, he would have
appeared to vanish, like a flickering shadow. But he was
moving, not relying on sight for direction, but trusting solely
in the psychic signal that throbbed in his mind.
He arrived in the backyard of a small house. A wooden
fence encircled the yard.
Crumbling concrete steps led to a white door. He tried to
open the door. Locked.
He waved his hand across the lock, and it disengaged
with a soft click.
In addition to tremendous strength and speed, each vampire possessed special gifts. He had the power of telekinesis:
the talent to move physical objects by employing psychic
force. He could lift an object that weighed several hundred
pounds without exerting any physical effort. The ability
came in handy. No door was ever closed to him.
He waited outside the doorway. Silence. No one shouted
in alarm or came running. But he sensed a human in the
room beyond the door, the individual he desired.
He paused.
Once he went inside the house, he could not turn back.
His carefully cultivated image of himself as a sensitive, sophisticated creature would be ruined. He would become a
predator.
Hunt for me, my son. Save me.
He had waited a lifetime for an opportunity to see his father. How could he turn away from doing what was needed
to ensure his father's survival? If he had to become a predator ... so be it.
Quietly, he pushed through the door.
He was in a cramped, brightly lit kitchen. Chipped paint
on the walls. Pieces of tile missing from the floor. A wobbly
set of chairs surrounded a wooden table heaped with papers
and cups.
A young black woman was at the counter, her back turned
to him. She poured a bright red fluid from a pitcher into a
glass.
For an absurd moment, Kyle thought he had wandered
into the household of a vampire who was about to feed.
But it wasn't blood, of course. It was some sort of punch
drink.
Beyond the doorway, Kyle heard children chattering excitedly.
He only wanted the girl.
She turned with the container in her hand, to return it to
the refrigerator, and that was when she saw him. Her mouth
spread into a startled "0." The pitcher fell out of her fingers
and crashed against the floor, punch spreading like a bloodstain across the tile.
He struck her temple with the edge of his hand, knocking
her unconscious. He caught her in his arms.
She was so vibrantly alive. Her head lolled to the side, exposing her smooth neck. Without touching her flesh, he felt
her pulse throbbing; it was like a drumbeat echoing in his
mind.
He covered her with his jacket. She was not for him. She
was for his father.
He carried her out of the house and into the night.
Jahlil and the fellas cruised through town.
T-Bone drove, Poke rode shotgun, and Jahlil was sprawled
in the backseat. Hip-hop banged from the speakers, loud
enough to give an old man a heart attack.
The past week, no longer burdened by a stupid job, Jahlil
spent his days and nights hanging with the crew. He usually
rolled out of the bed at noon, played video games for a few
hours, and then T-Bone would pick him up and they'd hit the
basketball courts, or even better, the car wash, where they
talked to all the females who came through. Come nightfall,
they'd begin cruising the streets, stopping whenever they
saw people they knew, or just driving and bumping music.
Dad hadn't said anything to him about getting a job-yet.
Jahlil could tell his old man had another plan brewing.
School-another pain in the ass started next week, too. He
was going to enjoy his freedom while it lasted.
They were driving aimlessly down a dark street, nodding
to the slamming beat, when Jahlil caught a swift movement
on the periphery of his vision. Like a large, passing shadow.
He looked through the rear windshield.
A tall man dressed in black was putting a large, covered
package in the rear cargo area of a sport utility vehicle.
Except the package had a pair of dangling legs.
"Stop the car!" Jahlil said. He lunged forward and grabbed
a fistful of T-Bone's jersey. "Man, someone's putting a dead
body in that truck!"
"What?" T-Bone lowered the volume of the music. "What
the hell you talking 'bout?"
"The Lexus we just passed, man" Jahlil had both knees
on the seat cushions and stared out the window. The man had
put the body-Jahlil was sure it was a body-inside the
truck and strolled to the driver's side door. "A dude was
putting a body in the trunk!"
"You high as hell and hallucinatin' shit," Poke said. "You
ain't seen nothing."
The taillights of the Lexus flared. The vehicle moved forward, away from them.
"He's getting away!" Jahlil said. "I'm not lying and I'm
not seeing things. I saw him put something in the trunk that
had legs like a person"
"Like a female's legs?" T -Bone said. "All nice and smooth?"
"Yeah, I think so," Jahlil said, amazed that T-Bone had
seen it, too.
"Did she have long, silky hair?" T-Bone said. "Make you
wanna run your fingers through it?"
"I don't know. I didn't see her hair."
"Did she have a face like Halle Berry?" T-Bone said.
Jahlil frowned. "Fellas, I'm serious."
T-Bone and Poke broke into wild laughter.
"That's the weed working on you, J," Poke said. "Chill out
and enjoy the ride, man"
"Whatever," Jahlil said. The Lexus had rolled out of sight. He began to wonder if his boys were right. Maybe he
hadn't seen a man putting a body in the trunk. Maybe he had
been hallucinating. He was, after all, as high as a space satellite.
But if it was only an illusion, why was he so afraid?
Kyle presented the unconscious young woman to his father, like a gift.
Diallo sat up in the bed. He smiled. "Ah, my son. I am
proud of you. You have saved me. As I lay here, I had felt my
life slipping away."
"I will never let you go hungry." Kyle placed the woman
on his father's lap. "Hurry, before she wakes"
Diallo savagely twisted the woman's head, lifted her neck
to his mouth, and plunged his fangs into her jugular vein.
Blood spurted. The woman sighed, a sensual sound. The
coppery odor of fresh blood permeated the air.
A pleasant chill passed through Kyle as he watched his
father feed. He marveled that he could enjoy watching a
vampire feast on a human. The mere thought used to revolt
him.
Something was happening to him, he realized. A profound change was occurring deep in his psyche, like tectonic
plates shifting under the earth's surface.
He was certain that finding his father, finally, had triggered the transformation. He was metamorphosing into a
mature vampire. More daring. More confident.
More in touch with his natural desires.
As he watched his father suck the human's blood, he
licked his lips.
Suddenly, he was hungry. Famished. Although he had fed
only a couple of hours ago on a packet of blood.
Perhaps his father would share the woman with him.
But Diallo did not offer. He drained the human's body,
then carelessly flung the corpse off the bed.
Kyle's hunger vanished. He wasn't genuinely hungry.
What was wrong with him?
He had to maintain control of himself. Hunting prey for
his father was essential, but only until his father had adapted
to packaged blood. He could not join his father in feeding on
live prey. If he did, they would regress into predatory savages. The idea was madness.
But only yesterday, I had thought that murdering a human
was madness, too, hadn't I?
"You are in turmoil, my son," Diallo said. He rested his
hand on Kyle's shoulder. "Sit with me."
Kyle sat on the edge of the bed.
"What troubles you?" Diallo said.
"Mother has taught me a different way of life for a vampire," Kyle said. "A way that she feels is more civilized."
Diallo smiled. "Lisha is wise. But she is a female. You are
a male. And I am your father. Only I can show you how a
powerful male vampire ought to conduct himself."
His father's eyes were dark, absorbing.
I needed you to save me," Diallo said. "You need me to
guide you. We need each other, my son."
"Yes, Father," Kyle said. Intense emotion swelled his
lungs, making it hard to breathe.
He had never experienced such a heartfelt connection
with anyone, vampire or human.
"We need a daylight watcher," Diallo said. "I understand
that the man you had befriended served in such a capacity.
But he is no more. I will show you a watcher that is better
than a man"
"What do you mean?"
"Help me walk. Let us go outdoors"
Kyle assisted his father in getting off the bed. Across the
basement, a short flight of steps ended at a solid set of storm
doors. The doors were unlocked; Kyle had brought the
woman into the cellar through this doorway.
They ascended the stairs and walked into the night.
It was cool and quiet. The sky was clear, sprinkled with
stars and a pale half moon.