The Human-Undead War Trilogy (Book 1): Dark Intentions (17 page)

The pain subsided as quickly as it had come. Brian understood then why vampires were so damn hard to kill. 

The thin vampire tossed Brian at the giant one, who stuck out his arm and clothes-lined him. He gripped his throat and fell to his side on the floor, surprised his head was still intact. He rolled onto his back. All three vampires loomed above him, grinning. 

Anger welled within him. Who were these three attackers? Why were they after him? He’d done nothing to deserve this!  

The anger manifested itself and burst from him like an erupting volcano. He gasped as a translucent shockwave emanated from his body, pushing the three vampires away. Their stunned gasps turned to anguished cries as they were forced into the sunlight at the center of the room. They disappeared from view but their pained surprise lingered on.  

The waves dissipated. Brian propped himself up on his elbows. The three vampires huddled together several feet away, smoke billowing from their skin. He finally had a chance to stand. He didn’t even push out with his hands; his vision blurred of its own accord, his body went rigid, and that strange gust of wind lifted him into a standing position. 

The thin vampire reached out, a feral sneer tearing his facial features. Steel hands clamped about Brian’s neck, and he was hefted off his feet. The vampire then wrenched Brian into the sunlight. 

Brian waited for the imminent pain, the burst of ash and flame, the lifelessness, the death. 

The attacker’s bony arms erupted in flames. He screeched in agony and released his grip on Brian’s neck.  

Brian’s vision blurred. He closed his eyes, certain the pain was so great he’d black out before feeling any of it. The end was near. 

The surreal wind billowed beneath his feet. He Brian reopened his eyes. His vision cleared once again. He remained suspended in the air, arms at his side, body rigid. Warm sunlight beat down upon his ashen skin. No smoke. No fire. No ash. No pain.  

The three vampires screeched and then vanished.  

Brian’s eyesight magnified. The stopwatch was in his face again. 

Thirteen point five-six seconds.

Chapter 21

Vincent cradled his scarred and charred arms before him. They burned with each step. Wounds always healed, but not wounds from sunlight. A vampire lived with those scars for the remainder of his immortal life.  

Gunther and Rufus both ambled behind him. They had suffered minor burns when the new vampire’s powers had tossed them all into the sunlight, but their wounds were more psychological than anything. They’d been bested by a newly turned vampire. It’d take a great act of revenge to regain their confidence. 

Not since they’d all been on the battlefield several years prior had they been psychologically damaged as they were at that moment. Vincent wouldn’t forget the day they and several thousand vampires stormed through the center of the United States, intent on pillaging all cities and killing all humans in the state of Kansas. Unaware, they’d walked right into the main force of the regrouped Human Army.  

Vincent prided himself for his cunning that day. He’d run into the human wall and came out unscathed, pulling his two comrades along. They’d been lucky. All the other vampires accompanying them were killed.  

Barnaby had approached him upon their return to then-named London, inquiring of how they’d been the sole survivors. Knowing what the Undead leader would’ve done to them if he’d admitted the truth, Vincent used his wit to spin a grand tale of bravery. There were no survivors, aside from Gunther and Rufus. Nobody could say otherwise.  

And instead of being killed for cowardice, they were honored as stoic heroes and given leave to remain in Haven, never to return to the battlefield. 

The scientist had made a mistake in besting them. Nobody fucked with Barnaby’s elite war veterans. 

Vincent stopped in the passageway, catching the blue tinted stone out of the corner of his eye. He pressed it. The alleyway was clear and shaded all the way to the cobblestone path. He sighed and walked out. His skin cooled, but the throbbing in his arms worsened. “We’ll have to wait until dusk,” he said, annoyed. 

Gunther leaned against the tavern wall and scooted down to sit on the ground. Rufus stood beside him, blubber quaking. 

“Did you see that? His eyes glowed when he levitated.” 

Gunther glared. “I sawed it. But he ain’t nothin’ a whole lot different from us-selves, ya damned idiot.”  

“Yeah he was. Hell, he’s even stronger than 
you
.” 

Gunther jumped up and jabbed his nose into Rufus’ forehead. “Shut up, ya big fat moron!” 

These idiots. 
Anger burst inside Vincent, but he kept it in check, an art he’d perfected throughout the years. Negative energy swirled around them. He needed to transform it and redirect it into something more constructive, something beneficial to him. 

He’d perfected that art form as well. 

He stepped forward, hands up. “Now, now, boys, let’s not allow stress to get to us. We underestimated our opponent. He’s much stronger than we expected, faster than anticipated, immune to sunlight. But that doesn’t mean we should give up. We still deserve our rightful payment.” He paused, then addressed Gunther. “How long has it been since you hunted down a human and ripped it limb from limb?” 

Gunther’s angry visage softened. “Too long,” he grumbled, stepping back from Rufus. 

“Then we shouldn’t be bickering. We need to be planning. We deserve to douse ourselves in human blood, don’t we?” 

“Yeah,” Rufus said, eyes wide with excitement. 

“Then that pathetic excuse for a vampire must pay.” Vincent thrust his arms out before him, white eyes flaring. “With his life.” 

***

“It’s like I was invincible. And I’d swear waves of power rippled out from me, Ruby. 
Actual
 waves.” Brian fell back onto the bed, spread-eagled. “It was crazy. Nothing like me. Hell, you’ve seen me fight.” 

Ruby walked across the room and giggled. “Yeah, I have.” She drew back the curtains and sunlight spilled in.  

Instinctively, Brian put his hands to his face to block the rays. 

“I thought you were immune to sunlight, Mister Invincible.” 

“I wasn’t ready,” he said. “And it’s not like I don’t have a million years to get used to it anyway.” 

“You seem awfully confident.”  

“What’s wrong with that?” 

“I don’t know. I’ve just never seen you so confident before. It’s not a bad thing.” Ruby walked back over to the bed and sat beside him. “But what if those guys attack you again?” 

He sat up and offered a reassuring smile. “A few weeks to learn and hone my abilities, and I’ll be able to control them just fine. They won’t be able to sneak up on me again. Don’t worry.” 

His eyesight switched to infrared against his will. Ruby’s bright heart flopped in the center of her silhouette. Evil excitement welled up within him. He gulped and blinked until his eyesight returned to normal. 

“You’re paler, like the first time you awakened.” She raised an eyebrow. “You need to feed?” 

“No,” he lied.  

“You expended a lot of energy today.” 

“I—I’m fine.” His stomach churned. She was right. The fight had weakened him, and he needed to feed. But he refused to be like all other Undead, viewing every warm-bodied creature as a meal. 

“You’ve never been good at lying.” She smiled and offered her arm. “Here. Same spot.” 

She was supposed to help keep him grounded, not provide his sustenance. He had to get away from her before he took her up on her generous offer. He shook his head, stood, and walked to the hidden entrance, hoping she could follow his movements. “I’ll be back.” 

Before she could protest, he hit the blue stone and rushed down the stairway beyond. Stone walls and stairs and intersections zipped by. Within seconds, as if drawn by some other power, he stood once again inside the circular tower outside the laboratory.  

He needed something to take his mind off the hunger. He glanced at the floor-level lancet, then stepped up to it, the exhilaration of levitation still fresh in his mind.  

Dumb luck had gotten him through the fight earlier, but luck had a funny way of running out. He needed more practice. He needed to become an expert. The platelet and peace and saving the races was unachievable if he couldn’t control his powers. 

He scrunched up his face. How had he called up the strange winds earlier? Was it the light-headedness, the blurred vision, or stomach rumbles? 

He only knew how to do one of those at will, so he blurred his vision. Immediately the wind blew upon his back. But he wanted it beneath him. He willed his eyesight to normal again. The breeze died.  

He puffed out his chest. 
I can do this
. The blurry vision returned and he imagined the breeze beneath his feet. His body remained rigid as the wind lifted him into the air. Focusing on the breeze, he propelled himself forward, through the window, over the stone rooftop. Then he allowed the wind to diminish in increments, so that he was steadily ascending toward the courtyard. A rush of elation and triumph swept through him as the ground approached. 

A seagull crashed into his chest. The blurred vision disappeared. Angered, Brian peeled the stunned bird from his body and tossed it away. Then he plummeted after it. 

He plowed into the ground, legs first. He screamed. Bones snapped. Pain washed over him, threatening to plunge him into dark unconsciousness. He lay on the ground, unable to move. He stared to his right, quivering in shock. The seagull was splayed open on a rock within arm’s reach.  

The pain ebbed away. Brian reached out and wrenched the seagull from its death perch. It was still warm, its heart still beating. Weak, easy prey. Just enough to feed the hunger. 

No.
 Disgusted, he tossed the broken seagull back on the ground. What had he gotten himself into? He couldn’t bring himself to drink blood of any kind, but the hunger was all-consuming. He was weak. He couldn’t control his powers. He couldn’t even figure out how they worked. 

He was a poor excuse for a vampire. 

The pain was gone. He stood and dusted off his jogging pants, blocked the sun from his eyes with his arm, and stared up at the window high above. As weak as he was, he couldn’t risk permanent injury caused by another failed levitation attempt. The long way would have to suffice. 

He trudged toward the drawbridge. What would happen when he returned to the room, to Ruby? Would he give in to his urges and feed? 

No. He would rather die. Again. 

Forever. 

Chapter 22

Brian’s eyelids flew open. Darkness. Night. He tried to lift his arms and sighed. The chains and straps held fast.  

For two days he’d remained bound to his bed, ordering Ruby to ignore his pleas and rants. At one point, she’d offered her wrist to him again. He had denied it, though only the restraints and his waning strength kept him from sinking his fangs into her soft flesh. 

The hidden door to the guest quarters slid open. Nothing was soundless anymore. Especially since he had stopped feeding. Even Ruby’s restful exhalations from the bed adjacent to him rattled in his ears. 

“My, Koltz, that is a strange way to sleep. And you thought a coffin would be weird?” Barnaby chided.  He spun the ring on his finger and waltzed over to stand beside the bed. Deep wrinkles lined his forehead. “You do not look right.” He sniffed through his nostrils. “You do not smell right.” He leaned close. His breath was fresh for once. Minty. “You have not been feeding.” 

Brian clenched his jaw and remained quiet. 

Barnaby meandered to the window, staring into the night. “I was like you at one time, Koltz. I got tired of feeding off the creatures around me. After one-hundred millennia, I wanted to die. To give up. The human species did not exist. I had no parents, no family. I was a confounded creature with no mate, different from the animals around me. They could die. I could not. They could have productive relationships, but the only relationship I had with them was me, the hunter, killing them, my prey. I had nothing to live for. 

“I discovered a cave in what is now the Antarctic, back when it was a lush land. I rolled a boulder to the entrance and sealed myself in it. Devoid of food, I cradled myself in the farthest corner and hoped against all hope I would die. I refused to give in to the hunger, even when I detected small creatures skittering around on the other side of the boulder. 

“But as I withered away, an epiphany dawned on me. I realized I was a creation of something larger, like every other creature. Though I did not have a mate, though I did not seem to have any purpose other than to kill, I inhabited this world. I was the highest up on the food chain. Not even the great Tyrannosaurus Rex could destroy me, yet I could destroy it.  

“My overall purpose became quite clear. I had to survive, if for no other purpose than to survive.” He turned and smiled forcefully. “A week after I rolled the boulder into place, I crawled out of my hole and fed.” 

Brian gulped. Most of his test subjects had died after five days without sustenance. It was difficult to believe Barnaby’s proclamation. But Barnaby had shocked the entire world by gathering the Undead and bringing about a civilization of vampires. 

Maybe his starvation claim wasn’t so far-fetched. 

“It was not until primates came out of the woodwork and evolved into humans as we know them today that I discovered my mates. I could mesh with them, hide amongst them. Learn from them. I could drink from them and forgo the animal swill I had fed on since the dawn of my existence. And though we could not procreate, they could become like me.  

“Humans had been created just for me. They gave me deeper purpose in life. Had I sat back and starved myself, I would never have known this.”  

He placed his arms behind his back and walked toward Brian, his face a solemn mask. “Do you truly wish to die before discovering your purpose in life, Koltz?” 

Brian closed his eyes. He had a purpose, but he didn’t want to be a vampire. Not when he didn’t understand how to be Undead. 

“Though you may detest having to sustain yourself on human blood, evolution has made it so. It is the nature of our species, Koltz. You cannot ignore it simply because you wish to save our meek counterparts. You must embrace what you are, what you have become.” 

As much as Brian despised Barnaby, he also admired him. Strong. Arrogant. Compassionate about his species and their ultimate survival. Knowledgeable.  A leader. 

A great possible mentor. 

Brian opened his eyes. He needed to ask Barnaby for help. He needed Barnaby to teach him about himself, to learn how to cope with being Undead.  

He needed to drop his guard and trust the Undead leader with his life, his sanity. 

He gulped. “I don’t want to die.” 

Barnaby smiled. “I know you do not, Koltz. But the questions remain. Will you take what you need in order to survive? Do you have it in you to overlook your conscience?” 

Brian didn’t know if he could. He wanted to maintain his morals, and the thought of feeding disgusted him.  

“You will come around. Sooner than later, Koltz.” Barnaby strolled toward the secret entrance of the room. 

“Wait.” 

Barnaby whirled around and raised an eyebrow.  

“I need to feed,” Brian said, childish in his plea. “I need your help.” 

Barnaby was at the bed. The Undead leader tugged on the straps around Brian’s wrists, snapping them apart as if they were twigs. He did the same with Brian’s ankle restraints as Brian attempted to break the chains across his chest. His arms shook in the futile attempt. Barnaby snickered, then snapped the chains as he had done the other restraints.  

Brian tried to roll off the bed but couldn’t muster the strength.  

Barnaby helped him to his feet. Brian slung one limp arm over Barnaby’s shoulder and stepped forward. They made their way to the circular tower with great effort. The trip would’ve been quicker, but Brian was stubborn and wouldn’t allow Barnaby to carry all of his weight.  

Once in the tower, Barnaby scooped him up and jumped through the lancet, rocketing toward the ground and slowing within feet of impact. He helped Brian hobble to the drawbridge.  

Brian fell on the ground, his face inches above the bloody moat. He shook his head and scrambled to his knees. “I can’t.” 

Barnaby knelt beside him. “The moat is here for vampires such as you. That is why I created it.” 

“I thought it was for shock value.” 

“Our reputation would be greatly diminished if humans knew there are some of our kind who wish not to feed on humans.” 

Brian tried to laugh, but a sharp pain jabbed at his stomach.  

“This is what I lived for, Koltz…” Barnaby nodded over his shoulder at the bustling Haven square. “Now you have to decide why you want to live.” 

The platelet mushroom. Peace.
 Brian balled his hands into fists. He needed to feed. He needed to survive.  

He dropped back to his stomach and dipped his face into the moat. The warm blood calmed him. Under the surface, he opened his mouth and drank. The blood wasn’t as sweet as Ruby’s. It lacked any real flavor, even the coppery taste. But within seconds, his muscles tensed and his strength returned. 

Several minutes later he stood and used the sleeve of his sweat-suit to wipe his face clean. Barnaby stood nearby, gazing out over the courtyard.  

Brian stepped beside Barnaby, his goals finally clear. “I meant what I said earlier about needing your help. These abilities are too unpredictable.” He hesitated. Should he elaborate and tell Barnaby about the encounter with the three vampires who may very well be within the courtyard crowd? 
No
, he decided. It wasn’t something the Undead leader needed to concern himself with. “Had someone been there for you when you gave up, I’m sure you would’ve appreciated the assistance.” He gulped down his pride. “I can’t pursue my goals without your help, Barnaby.”  

Barnaby paused. “Very well, Koltz. I will help you.” 

“You won’t be disappointed.” 

“I will not go easy on you.” 

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” 

***

“You are doing it all wrong, Koltz.” 

Brian gritted his teeth. His arms were raised at his sides, parallel to the floor. He focused all of his attention on moving them in a slow forward circular motion. 

Barnaby stood before him in his chamber, arms crossed over his chest. He appeared drained of energy. “You have your senses under control. Movement and speed should have followed suit with ease.” 

“Funny. That’s what Father Stephenson said.” 

“That is because I told him that long ago.” 

Brian dropped his arms to his sides. Normally, his muscles would be aching. But now he felt no pain. “Mind if I ask how you two met?” 

“Not at all.” Barnaby cleared his throat. “Once I discovered I was able to both take and give life, I turned some humans. But only a few. They were savages and lacked sophistication and secrecy. I was ashamed of them. So I left them behind and moved far away.  

“A hundred thousand years passed. I moved from continent to continent, city to city, hiding, supping yet never turning another human. I returned to North America in 1790 and was enchanted by the bustling population in New York. I could wear old rags and not bathe and feast on innocent drunkards in alleyways, and no one paid me any heed. It was the ideal environment in which to avoid my creations and live a quiet life. 

“Loneliness, however, overwhelmed me, and I found solace in reading. I visited The New York Society Library every night, sneaking in through the shoddy windows at City Hall. One night, an old man—the janitor—startled me during my readings of Thomas Paine (a remarkable man whom I had met twice, by the way). He believed me to be a homeless man who simply enjoyed reading and extended an invitation for me to come back every night, though he was unaware I would have done so regardless of his generosity. 

“The old man—James Stephenson—was a kind, young-hearted genius. He admitted he also enjoyed perusing the books and documents, with the quiet comfort of the night hugging him. So every night for months henceforth, he would take a break from his duties to chat. We would sit and discuss literature, history. Since intellectual conversation had been a rarity for so long, I welcomed his presence. 

“A strange kinship developed between us. He was the human version of me, I suppose. It was sobering. Here I was, alone in the world, and I had found someone to connect with. 

“But one night he caught me feeding in the alley behind the library. He tried to run, but I gave chase, overtook him, and pinned him down. He begged for his life. So rather than kill him, I decided to turn him. For what better way to honor his plea than to grant him the gift of everlasting life? 

“Afterward, he approached me as you have, asking that I teach him the ways of vampirism. I obliged. And due to his historical knowledge, he became our historian. He tracked down all folklore pertaining to vampires, compiled it, documented it for the Undead public. He discerned fact from fiction so our legacy can carry on. 

“He was and still is my closest colleague, the only person I feel I can confide in. He knows me better than I do.  

“But enough of that for now.”               

Barnaby disappeared. Brian followed the sound of rustling clothes until he located him floating twenty feet above.  

“What color is the spot on the collar of my shirt?” 

“Are you serious?” 

“You proclaim to have your senses under control, but I want to test that proclamation,” Barnaby said. “I ate something last night that is not my usual cuisine. Remain where you stand and tell me what color it is.” 

Brian shook his head. He inhaled through his nostrils to steady his nerves. An unnecessary physical exaggeration, but one that still invoked a sense of calmness nonetheless. He narrowed his eyes, envisioning the spot on the collar as if it were inches away. Collar. Stain. Spot. His eyesight magnified until the collar was directly before him. He narrowed the focus until the fibers of the fabric appeared as if under a microscope.  

“Orange.”  

“Excellent. And can you guess what type of food it was?” 

“How am I supposed to tell that by color?” 

“Use your nose.” 

“From here?” 

Barnaby smiled and nodded. 

Brian shook his head. Smell to discover what one spot on a collar might be from twenty feet away. It was insane. Inhuman. 

And completely within his new limits. 

He sniffed. Tomato sauce. A chunk of noodle. A piece of lentil, a chunk of fried onion. Intoxicating yet pungent garlic sauce. But this wasn’t simple pasta. No, there was something authentic about it, something exotic. He had travelled to Cairo, Egypt once, after his mother died. He distinctly remembered that smell and the rich mixture of flavors. “Koshery.” His sight returned to normal. 

Barnaby glided down from above. He landed and walked toward Brian, clapping. “Bravo, Koltz!” 

Brian raised an eyebrow. “Egypt? Or just Egyptian cuisine at some place I’ve never heard of before?” 

“Ah, now that is the real question,” Barnaby said, raising his index finger and jabbing at the air. He turned and walked to the center of his chamber, passing by the lone female statue. The fountain basin was gone, sunken beneath the stone floor as if it never existed.  

Brian’s mouth watered. His birthing place had been a beautiful large vampire-style martini glass, and he wanted another sip. 

He shook the dreadful thought away. He needed to focus on honing his abilities so he could finally return to some sense of normalcy. Not that there could be any normalcy in being a vampire. Sleeping during daylight. Feeding off of humans. Powers beyond human comprehension.