The Human-Undead War Trilogy (Book 1): Dark Intentions (8 page)

Chapter 11

“Wake up, Koltz.” 

Brian shot upright, wet hair matted to his head. The sheets beneath him were soaked as well, and his pale gray sweat-suit clung to him. He reached for his glasses on the nightstand, trying to focus his thoughts. 

He’d taken a bath after Ruby had dried and gotten dressed. After finding sticks of beef jerky in the fanny packs, they’d inspected them to ensure they were safe for human consumption and not some sick pleasure of the vampire world, then devoured them. Plopping down on adjacent beds, they’d chatted, speculating on what was happening at the URC in their absence, imagining what Haven was going to reveal. After several hours, with warm sweat-suits, clean bodies, and stomachs no longer furious, they must have passed out.  

He searched for the person who’d woken him. Barnaby sat on his haunches atop his bed’s corner post, grinning. Shadows enveloped him, yet Brian could make out his features even with the fog of sleep clouding his sight. Light spilled onto the rug next to his bed. It was the following morning.  

Barnaby placed a finger to his lips and whispered, “Come with me, Koltz.” 

Brian’s stomach dropped. Leave with the Undead leader? What if Barnaby had never intended to grant him immortality? What if he’d planned to kill him all along? Was this a ruse to isolate him from Ruby and finish the deed? 

Barnaby chuckled. “You forget that I can pick up on human emotions, Koltz. I mean you no harm. I want to prove to you that you are indeed a guest and not a prisoner.” 

Brian glanced at Ruby’s bed. The sheets rose and fell in subtle waves as she slept. 

Barnaby rapped on the corner post to draw Brian’s attention. “She will be fine. Come.” 

Brian sighed through his nose. He didn’t want to leave her behind. But a tug on his consciousness told him to leave with the Undead leader. It wasn’t some mind-trick. Something inside of him yearned to learn more about the majestically-clothed vampire. Perhaps it was the power that seemed to wash over him whenever in Barnaby’s presence, or perhaps it was simple curiosity. 

He lowered his legs over the side of the bed and stretched his arms, stifling a yawn that would’ve awakened the dead. He chuckled and glanced at Barnaby. Maybe he already 
had
 awakened the dead. 

Barnaby jumped off the corner post, a lithe, slinky black panther moving through the darkest corners with grace. Brian envied his stealth. He followed the vampire to the hidden entrance, attempting to avoid stubbing his toe on anything unfortunate enough to get in his path.  

The hidden door slid inward and Barnaby beckoned Brian with a jagged finger. Brian paused at the entrance and glanced back one more time at Ruby. If Barnaby intended to kill him, she would never know. Left alone in the vampire haven, she would probably succumb to death before realizing he had disappeared. 

Gulping, he pressed ahead, down the looping stairwell, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness inside. 

A snap of fingers echoed in the passageway at the bottom of the stairs and then a small flame danced before him.  

“How do you do that?” 

Barnaby was still hidden in shadows, nothing more than a flame dancing on fingertips. “You do not know, Koltz?” 

“I’ve never seen any Undead do that before, no.” 

The flame moved forward and Brian trudged ahead, attempting to keep pace.  

“Some of us produce phosphorous gas. Combine that with razor-sharp nails and a slight-of-hand finger snap, and you have yourself a flame.” 

Brian furrowed his brow. Phosphorous gas? All the experiments he’d conducted provided no evidence of such an element existent in vampire chemical composure. He shrugged. Then again, few known elements had been found in their bodies. Vampire genetics were a mystery. Their blood contained an implausible symbiotic cell that infected humans. Their make-up was so confusing that he’d given up trying to decipher the code. Instead, he’d turned his attention to bodily functions and his platelet mushroom.  

They turned left at the second intersection and ascended a sharp incline. The ground leveled out once more and Brian puffed to steady his breathing. His muscles were still strained from being cramped in their initial prison cells, and the mustiness of the air strangled him.  

They continued forward at the next intersection. Several minutes later, at another intersection, they turned right and came to a wall. Barnaby tapped a light-blue stone and a hidden door swung into a well-lit passageway.  

The pathways looked worn. Intricate. Confusing. Brian hoped he’d be able to navigate his way through them sometime without a guide. 

Bracketed torches were attached to the walls at regular intervals in the hallway they entered. The flame on Barnaby’s fingertips died away. The hallway widened and Brian stepped forward to walk beside Barnaby, his guard down.  

If Barnaby meant any harm, he surely would’ve killed him by now. 

“I apologize for waking you in this manner, Koltz. But to better persuade you to accept my offer, I wished to dispel some myths about vampires so you understand what you could potentially become.” 

Brian snorted. “Like I don’t know what you are.” 

Barnaby kept his eyes averted, hands clasped behind his back. “Please, do tell.” 

“Oh, you know, you’re just typical Draculas, sleeping in coffins, lamenting lost romance.” 

 “Perhaps I have underestimated your intelligence then, Koltz. I figured you of all people knew the truths of me and my kind.” 

Looks like I’ve found another strength: They’re immune to sarcasm. 
Brian cleared his throat. “All right, you’re quite different from imagined vampires. For one, you actually do have reflections in mirrors and can be filmed. And you are repelled by garlic, but with such overtly sensitive olfactory membranes, even humans would be repulsed by the pungent smell. You just want to get away from it. A system overhaul. It has nothing to do with folktales, where it causes weakness. Anything with a strong odor—onions, for example, or even pepper—will cause you to desire flight from a situation.” 

“Astute observation, Koltz.”              

“The remainder of your senses are also enhanced. You can see on microscopic levels if you focus hard enough. Same with your hearing, though I assume it takes much more strength of will to filter all the sounds that plague you. Your speed and strength are unmatched, and from what I saw the other day, some of you have honed your speed so well humans can’t even register movement. You move so fast at times it gives the appearance of flying, but that isn’t actually something you can do at all. 

“As for weaknesses, massive injuries from wood or direct piercing of the heart destroy you. Beheading with any sharp object eradicates you rather efficiently. Painfully? I have no idea. I haven’t been able to decipher how your nerves connect the concept of pain to your brain.” He smirked. “With all due respect, the Undead are technically brain-dead.” 

Barnaby looked flattered. “Continue.” 

“Aside from all the enhanced senses and whatnot, you’re also pretty damn resilient. Nuclear weapons, poisons, and gasses do nothing to you. Silver does no more harm than any other metal. And as far as holy water and fire go, I haven’t personally attempted any experiments with them, but I’m certain they cause harm.” 

Barnaby snatched a torch from its bracket and brandished it before him. “Take it. Burn me.” 

“What?” Brian hesitated. He couldn’t cause harm to anything, regardless of how immoral that creature was. Not without being provoked. Not of free will: URC experimentations were mandatory. He shook his head and stepped back. 

Barnaby held the torch to his own face. The skin neither smoldered nor melted. He smiled and licked the flames with his tongue. “Not everything is true. As for holy water, that is an old wives’ tale. It does nothing but make us wet and moody.” 

Brian’s mouth was dry. Barnaby had just proven one of his long-thought beliefs about the Undead wrong. 
I’ll just take his word on the holy water
. 

Barnaby returned the torch to its fixture and moved away. They began to ascend a flight of stairs when Brian noticed Barnaby had grown taller. He did a double-take. The vampire leader hadn’t grown. He was floating above the stones! 

The Undead glanced over his shoulder. “It is levitation, not flying.”  

He settled back into step beside Brian, his clothes rustling in the eerie silence. They came to a landing and Barnaby pushed open a huge wooden door. Sunlight spilled down into a circular room, and the vampire walked right into the rays. Brian cringed, waiting for the eruption of smoke and ash. 

Barnaby glanced at the swirling ring on his finger, basked in sunlight. “There are many things that are myth, Koltz. Humans have failed to comprehend that we are each as unique as your individual selves. We have different capabilities and strengths and weaknesses.”  

He walked to a small metallic door on the opposite side, leaving Brian gawking. “For example, I am the only Undead in history who can withstand direct sunlight.” He whirled around in a grandiose pose, followed by a slight bow. 

“You really are the patriarch,” Brian said, unable to keep his voice from shaking. Barnaby’s reputation had preceded him, but his powers had never been revealed. He couldn’t imagine the limitless possibilities this discovery could unlock. All of the answers to the Undead could be revealed with this very creature before him. 

Excited, he stepped forward. “Can you morph, too? Like, change body forms?” 

Barnaby cocked his head to the side, eyes glinting. “Do you believe everything of folktales? I can attest that shape-shifting is not one of my many powers.” He turned around and pulled open the door. “Come.” 

They stepped into the next room and Brian gasped. 

“See, Koltz, I am not all that different from you. I have been experimenting too.” 

***

The cloaked figure huddled above the woman, watching the rise and fall of her breasts. He sniffed her essence through his nostrils, wallowing in her womanly scent. John Ashmore couldn’t recall the last time he’d been alone in the vicinity of a human female, and he wished to capture the moment forever. Her pale, smooth skin. Her bright eyes, soft hair, that wonderful smell. 

A picture of his late wife flashed in his mind. 
Catherine. Sweet Catherine
. 

You must forget about her and kill this woman scientist now, while the Master has the male subdued!
 

John lifted the cloak from his head and shaded his eyes from the sunlight creeping through a split in the curtains across the room. “I can’t. I won’t. They don’t deserve it.” 

The Master deserves to be outwitted by you. 
 

You deserve retribution for his evil ways!
 

He shook his head and whispered, “Not this way.” 

There is no other way! You must! Do it to atone for the grief that has been wrought upon you by the wicked Master!
 

The Master is not wicked—He saved you.
              

He didn’t save you, he enslaved you! He took away your entire family, murdered them before you got to see them again, destroyed your life with a grin on his bony face!
 

Kill her! Kill her now!
 

“No!” John shouted. A surge of adrenaline coursed through him. He grabbed the nightstand next to her bed and sent it crashing to its side. 

The woman stirred, then bolted upright in bed.  

John dashed into the shadows, slapped the stone that opened the hidden door, and scrambled down the stairwell within, batting above his head as if attacked by a horde of flies. Tears streamed down his face as his calloused feet padded down the secret passageways. He turned right, then left, straight, then bounded down a flight of stairs. When he reached the bottom, he rushed to the torture chamber to scream with the dying captured men again, to drown out the buzzing inside him.  

But when he entered the vast room there was not a sound aside from his labored breathing. 

And the voices in his head. 

***

“Animals?” Brian surveyed the laboratory in awe. It was a vast room with high-tech equipment, countertops, flasks, liquids, rows of cages containing various animals—A veritable palace of scientific equipment. The smell inside was like that of a hospital, clean yet pungent, not disgusting yet not enticing. The walls and floors were steel, reinforced for sound, light, and air. Barnaby had spared no expense. 

“Undead live forever. So should our pets.” Barnaby stepped to the nearest wire cage and opened the hatch on it. He reached in and withdrew a Rottweiler puppy.  

The puppy regarded Brian with solemn eyes. He reached out to pet it. Once he was in range, its eyes glowed bright red and it snapped at his hand. He didn’t react fast enough.  

“Fuck!” Two pinpricks on the webbing between his thumb and forefinger dripped blood onto the cool steel floor.  

“My, my, Koltz. Daisy does not take a liking to you.” Barnaby stroked the Rottweiler’s head. 

“Is it contagious? Is it like other vampires?”