Demon Vampire (The Redgold Series) (73 page)

David said nothing. He slowly eased his grip on Yugo's throat.

Marin didn't move.

“I'm not going to kill him. You can relax.” David said to Marin.

Without motion, Marin silently responded in his own way, he turned to Yugo for direction.

“Let me put it another way. Get the hell off of me.” David was slightly meaner this time.

“Marin, let him go.” Yugo instructed.

Marin removed his fingertips from David's chest. He stepped out of David's personal space. “Of course.” Marin smiled at David. “Shall we finish the job at hand?”

“Without killing each other off, please.” Cherry kicked in with her two cents. “As much as I would enjoy liquidating all of David's holdings I didn't agree with. The thought of no longer having him to further business deals is painful.” Cherry chuckled at David. “Sorry, alive you're useful, but dead you're only half as useful.”

Grey picked up Phillipe's body, proceeding to the front of the mansion where everyone had parked. Cherry followed Grey. Marin picked up Teresa's body and left with Cherry and Grey.

David and Yugo stood alone with the two remaining bodies.

“This won't have a good outcome.” David said to Yugo.

“It never does.” Yugo replied. He walked slowly out the door.

David turned to Yugo. He placed Timothy's body onto his back with a rope. “Then do any of us truly have a hope for the future?”

Yugo stopped in the doorway. He didn't face David. “She died before we could determine that.”

“I'm not talking about the demon gifts. I mean against Damien, is there any real chance left?” David asked Yugo with a heavy heart.

Yugo took a deep breath. “The last time I saw Damien was when he saved me from a demon vampire. A force that we were nearly powerless against. It's not something that I look back on with fond memories.”

“Didn't he save your life, Yugo? What's wrong with that?” David asked.

“He was able to kill it, by himself. He destroyed the demon vampire with his own hands. With all my power, I wasn't able to accomplish that. Damien did it with his hands.” Yugo went silent.

“So he saved your life. Why be bitter over that?” David didn't see what Yugo was getting at.

“David, he was younger than you are now.” Yugo said with conviction. He turned to face David. His scars were lit well by the mansion's luminescence. “If a demon vampire could do this to my face.” Yugo gestured to the many scars that covered his muted expression. “Think of what horrid strength Damien wields if he was able to kill the one that did
this
to
me
. After all this time, Damien is only stronger than he once was.”

David was silent for a moment. “Will Orhn help us?”

“Orhn hates only Lucretia and her family.” Yugo told David.

“Then there's no way he could be of use?” David asked.

“Orhn wants to kill Lucretia's legacy and then die. He doesn't care about the rest of the world. Pain, torment, blood, there is nothing that means anything to him anymore. Once he kills Lucretia, Orhn will die.” Yugo said.

“Is someone hunting him?” David was confused.

“I know Orhn. This is what he has lived for. Once she is dead, he will have nothing left. He won't help us. He won't do anything to assist us, especially me. Orhn will end his own life in a spectacle that will change the world.” Yugo sighed.

“What, are you a psychic now?” David scoffed.

“No, I just employ one. Or did you forget?” Yugo replied.

“Good practice.” David admitted.

Yugo walked away. David stood, shaken at the knowledge laid upon him. He knew Damien was strong, but to find that he was relatively young when he killed the only demon vampire to ever fully manifest was disturbing to say the least. David waited for the others to pack up the bodies into the hearse that Grey brought with him. David walked out, silent of the terror that lay before them all.

The end was coming.

* * * *

Zack was angry. He had stormed off into the night in the direction of his apartment. He hadn't been to his room in three weeks. He was a little worried that his dad might have redecorated and re-purposed it into a storage closet. Zack attempted to keep his mind off of the reality of the situation.

The air was filled with hot steam from a rain that had recently ceased. A mist arose from the street. Zack's pace was hurried, rushed. He wasn't running, but briskly walking down through the bad parts of town, unwilling to make the safe detours he was used to. He wanted to simply get home and think about his life.

Up ahead Zack saw his regular bus stop. The one he used to change buses every school day when he was in middle school. He decided that walking was worth the time to cool off. Zack knew getting home faster would only translate into a confrontation with his dad. Zack needed all the support he could get. He couldn't afford to lose anyone right now. With all the power he felt in his veins, the strength pumping through his blood made him feel restless. Zack wanted to calm down and tell John what he could. He took a deep breath and decided to take the bus instead.

Zack looked around. His mind was not content with having to wait for the bus to arrive. In the distance, there was a commotion. Under a street light, there was a group of young men kicking something on the ground. Zack stared his night vision seemed to improve as he focused onward. It was a small boy they were beating up. Zack didn't think, the residual anger in him started walking for him. The temerity of the moment had gotten the better of him. Not sure of what he was going to do exactly, Zack wanted to stop it. As he continued, two people in the group noticed him. Zack kept walking. This was the same gang that had attacked the other kid at the bus stop a month ago. The same ones that beat Zack up before he went out to the club.

“Hey, you! What do you think you're lookin' at!?” The leader of the group called out to Zack.

Zack didn't stop. They hadn't recognized him. He had changed too much in the past couple of weeks to seem like the same kid they attacked.

“Back up, this doesn't concern you.” Another one yelled at Zack and pulled out a switch blade. He waved it round. “Run away, man. Before you get hurt.”

Zack stopped about five feet from the gang member. The idea intrigued him. It was tempting. Zack wondered if he could even be hurt by a normal person anymore. He wanted to know the extent of his strength. After Salas had made Zack drink all of Malio's blood, there was a question as to how much power was in him. Zack smiled. He waited for a chance, a moment to test it. To test his new self.

Zack listened to the packing sounds that came from the road as each foot struck the kid on the ground. The sweat shirt muted the overall presence of each kick. They were kicking him from all sides. Zack listened further. He had grown an affinity for Salas's gift. He could hear their minds, their thoughts. They didn't want to kill this kid. They didn't want to kill Zack either. A murder would complicate their lives. They merely wanted to scare Zack off and steal the money this kid had in his bank account. They were mediocre criminals, standard punks.

Zack smiled as his new senses picked up everything.

“What the hell are you laughing 'bout homo?” A third member of the gang got in Zack's face. His head was shaved, and he had a slight lisp in his words.

Zack didn't hesitate anymore. The chance was there, he took it. Zack removed this man's heart with his right hand alone. There was no impact, his fingers went into the flesh as a matter of fact. The power was unreal. It was palatable. It tasted good. Sweet in Zack's mouth, wet on his lips as the blood sprayed Zack's chest, soaking him. It was in his eyes, on his face, and it covered his hands. It absorbed, and disappeared into Zack's skin.

Zack turned to the leader of the gang.

“WHAT THE FUCK, MAN!!!???” The leader of the group screamed out in terror. He was afraid.

They were all afraid.

One of the gang members ran for his life. His wit had been shattered. He ran with every ounce of adrenaline in his body.

Zack met the runner, closing the gap of more than twenty feet instantly. It was as if Zack had been standing there the entire time. The others were too shocked to move. They feared what damage Zack was to do next.

Zack punched the man in the stomach, collapsing his chest cavity. It was concave as he fell. “Six to go.”

“Just take what we have and let us go, man. This guy's not worth it to us.” The leader told Zack as his legs shook.

Zack smirked and chuckled. He was amused by their words. “This guy's not worth it? That's your only defense, a few words? He was worth mugging a minute ago, wasn't he?”

The leader got angry at Zack. Panicking, he yelled out. “Okay, let's plug this freak!” He and the other five gang members reached for their hand guns.

Only four of them succeeded in drawing their weapons. Zack tore the right arm off of the nearest man to him and used it to decapitate the second. Both men died instantly from the sheer trauma. Zack let the men bleed on the ground, soaking the street. The lamp behind Zack flickered. Intermittently shutting off, Zack walked towards the leader.

“Blast this guy!” The leader called out.

All four men began shooting Zack. The bullets pierced his skin, blowing holes directly through his body. No blood came from Zack's wounds. He waited motionless for their next action, their next attempt at him. He was toying with them now. Zack was enjoying their fear and unease. He watched as they trembled in placed, as their guns emptied.

“What are you, man? A demon?” The leader asked.

Zack laughed. The idea that someone might call him a demon was hilarious. Zack was finally being called out for what he truly was by someone who had no concept of what it actually meant. It was ironic. The thought that this street punk's last words would be so exact was insatiable to Zack. He smiled once more, letting the expression fade.

The light behind Zack vanished. The block had suddenly lost power. There were only shimmers of moonlight to indicate where Zack was. A faint outline to see his shape. In the distance, a street lamp flashed. The leader saw the shape of what appeared to be thorns encasing Zack's body. He was a living demon. The light flashed again. The three other men were now on the ground. Their faces slashed and bloodied.

Zack descended upon the leader.

“Please don't kill-” The man's voice was cut off abruptly.

“-Kill you.” The lights strobed briefly. Zack's eyes were black. He snapped the gang leader's neck in his right hand. His moments were unworldly and inhuman. He let the man fall to the ground, slumping over. Zack had grown an affinity to Salas' gifts.

Zack could hear breathing. One of them was still alive. He heard the thoughts of a single soul that was cowering in fear. They were huddled into a ball, praying Zack didn't hurt him. The person's mind was frail, timid before the events laid before it. Zack walked to the last one left alive. The breath was loud against the now silent background of the night.

“Don't.” A shy voice let out, covered in blood. He was shielding his face from Zack.

Zack listened without caring he had already made up his mind to kill the last survivor.

“Don't kill me. They took everything I had on me. I don't have anything else to give. Please don't kill me. Don't hurt me. I don't have anything left.” The beaten voice begged.

It was the boy the gang had beat up. Zack was poised to murder the victim of the incident, the motivation for his initial actions. Zack stopped himself. His hands were ready to tear the boy's head off. Zack held his arm back consciously to refrain from the horrific act. The thoughts of fear swimming in this boy's head were saddening. He was wishing to see his parents again, wanting to finish school. He wished to have a girlfriend, to graduate middle school before he died. He prayed for life.

Zack viewed the scene around the boy. It was a page colored in blood and inked in torn flesh. Zack could hear Salas laughing in the back of his mind. “Absolute power without equal.” The words leaped from Zack's lips. This was the deal, these were the terms. Zack was giving in, it was slow and unintentional, but it was transpiring. Zack stood, shaken from what he had done, from what he could have done.

“Did you enjoy your bath?” Salas spoke to Zack.

Zack walked away from the boy.

“Rip, tear, rend, and swallow the blood like milk. Enjoy it as I did.” Salas continued to laugh as Zack proceeded to his apartment on foot.

The night waxed, stealing the wit from Zack's mind. This single event had unnerved him. He had taken the part of the deal, selling his soul piece by piece without knowing it. Without weighing the consequences. Zack looked at his hand, partially absorbed blood was caked between his fingers. He thought about washing it off, realizing the mess from his trail. Zack opened the door to the stair case in his apartment building. Suddenly, he noticed a warm taste in his mouth. He panned the hall. It was empty. Peering back at his hand, Zack had been licking the tips of his fingers, and the residual blood between his digits. He didn't even remember raising his hand.

Zack could hear Salas. “It was a good meal, wasn't it?” The words rang in his head. He found himself nodding without understanding the extent of what it meant. What disturbed Zack the most was that he
had
honestly enjoyed it.