Demon Vampire (The Redgold Series) (87 page)

Fear was apprehensive as to why Salas wanted blood. He recalled what was said at the last elder meeting three hundred years prior, they discussed the demon gifts that were created. He and the other eleven elder vampires agreed to never let any of the demon gifts know the real extent of their power. The secret of the greater demon gift they all possessed.

“Greater demon gift, you say?” Salas was reading everything Fear was thinking. “You can't hide anything from me, dear elder.”

“Stay out of my mind.” Fear ran to Salas to attempt to choke him.

Salas had moved around Fear before he had arrived. He was fast and able to predict all of Fear's actions. Every thought, every plan, Salas had access to all minds near him indefinitely. Compared to Salas, the world stood frozen in an eternal image. He saw a land of trees as he stood with an axe in one hand and a torch in the other. He was a god to all conscious thought before him.

“No use.” Salas whispered into Fear's left ear over his shoulder.

“Than why don't you kill me?” Fear wanted answers.

“I told you. I want blood.” Salas returned to his chair and sat.

“You have fangs. Go bite people.” Fear snapped.

“No. That's too conspicuous. I want something like what you have.” Salas waited for Fear to react.

Fear paused.

It was as clear as a bell on a winter night to Salas. He smiled. “I want what you have, I want Rebekkah.”

“You can't have her.” Fear wasn't about to give up his never-ending food supply. “Never.”

“What if I said that all I wanted to do was borrow her?” Salas was negotiating.

“Borrow her? You mean, use her?” Fear was becoming receptive to Salas' proposal.

“I want to bleed her, drink what she is. Let her fill my reserves. Then I want you to help me with more. I want others as well. 300,000 plus are the numbers I will be content with.” Salas' face was straight and serious. He wanted to make a deal with Fear.

Fear knew that even bargaining with one of the demons was considered treason among the elder vampires. He had to choose wisely. However, he knew that he couldn't lie. “Ten years. I'll give you ten years to get your fill.”

Fear's offer was slim, but honest in Salas' view. “Fine. Ten years to drink my heart full.” Salas extended his right hand.

Fear came to Salas. He shook his outstretched hand.

Rebekkah sat in disbelief. In her eyes, Love was making another deal with Fear. She only saw one end, Love's eventual death. This was a nightmare to her.

* * * *

Ten years comprised the span in which Yugo honed his gift. Damien watched as he grew powerful. The year was now 1299. Damien had long found and researched all the secrets known of vampires. The cache of information held by the hidden temple he had been searching had given him adept expertise. The entrenched temple, was actually quite easy to penetrate. Yugo was able to cause all of the priests there to lose their memories after they had attacked. None of them were killed or greatly harmed outside of a good knock on the head. Damien had figured out that Yugo was an alteration type, and he was a focus type. The revelation made him think. If Yugo had the ability to alter living reality, what other kinds of gifts were out there.

The texts revealed that more than six thousand years ago, they expatiated everything. A union of twelve god-like elder vampires decided to dissolve the mystery of true immortality. Their aim was to find a way to extend their own life force, giving them unlimited regeneration. To this end they asked for volunteers, test subjects for their ritual. Many vampires came from all corners of the world. If they were chosen, the initiates were to be accepted in the elder vampires' inner circle. They would be seen as near equals. Hundreds flocked to the ritual site. They had asked for all the varieties of gifts. Four hundred alteration vampires, seventy eight focus vampires, and three psychic vampires answered the call.

The disproportionate number of alteration vampires forced the elders to devise unique methods of selection. They were originally set on taking only one from each category, but the numbers presented to them didn't allow them to be so rejecting. The twelve came to recognize four very different alterations, two kinds of focus vampires, and only one psychic vampire. The seven were to be given the true definition of immortality. The elders witnessed the gifts of each vampire, seeing all they had to pick from. They were perplexed as to why only three psychics came. They had figured that their initial declaration was to blame. “We will accept who we choose. The rest will die. Tread here with solid intentions.” They had expected only a few to arrive. They were surprised by the turnout.

Six of the seven endured a lofty test for their position. Each was not simply handpicked. The alterations were tasked to kill each other. The last ten survivors being pitted against one of the stronger elder vampires. He alone chose four of them based on their skills. The focus vampires were given an equally hard quest. They were to walk into a deep cavern, travel several miles underground, and wait. The elders positioned themselves above the mountain and struck the ground in quick succession. The first two that made it out alive were selected. The others were crushed, the mountain their tomb. The psychic's test was very different for a good reason. The three that had come each had a unique and desirable gift. One had the ability to read the immediate future. The next had the talent of reading an individual's past. The third gift was able to walk into the dreams of another and instantly know their mind. Each of them had value in the elders' eyes. Until one elder suggested the strongest of the psychics should be the winner. A physically strong vampire with psychic abilities would be a great asset. The elder walked up to the psychic that was able to read the future first. He screamed, knowing what was about to happen. He was fast, far too fast to be evaded. The elder tore his heart out, letting it fall to the dirt. The next to die was the vampire that was able to read a person's past. He accepted his death and stood as the elder vampire murdered him. The last to be attacked was the vampire able to enter the dreams of others. He cursed the elder vampire for murdering his family. After his heart was removed, he continued to vow revenge as he bled out. He took the longest to die, so he was selected as the seventh to undergo the ritual. One of the other elders revived him with his own powerful gift. Restored, he was placed at the center of the ritual to join the others. He was bound in ropes and lashed to a tall oak against his will.

The other six vampires sat, most on their own accord and none of their own understanding. The psychic vampire protested the ritual, refusing to obey quietly. He cursed them all for taking away his brothers. He demanded to be manumitted. The elders ignored him. They commenced the ceremony. It lasted 10,000 days, more than twenty seven years. The elder ritual was a combination of their gifts, chanting, and an extremely vigilant focus. They held the ritual constantly, their will driven by the reward of pure eternity. They were attended by more than a hundred servants. They splashed blood on the elders, the initiates, and the ground itself. The twelve elders surrounded the six vampires in the circle. The psychic was in the center. They all survived the ritual. Their minds were affected greatly by the time, the repetition, and the stillness of it all. The seven of them had been changed. Their souls were forever enchanted from that day forward. The elder vampires, not exhausted in the least by the years of meditation and concentration, stood to see the final product of their efforts on the last night of the ritual.

The six of the seven vampires stood as free men with the elders. They were proud to have lasted through the entire ritual. They had no idea what was going on. The seventh initiate was still lashed to the same pole he had been on for the duration. He knew what was about to transpire. The ritual wasn't over. There was a last phase that was about to be completed. The elders congratulated the six vampires on their success. Everyone cheered and the elders suddenly became silent. A hush fell over them. They all chanted one last time. The psychic vampire screamed out in anguish. The elders spoke out. “Rip, tear, rend, and swallow the blood like milk.” The elders slaughtered the six initiates in one motion, tearing them limb from limb, pulling their entrails apart. The unbroken psychic vampire called out, damning them for what they had done. The twelve elders circled him. Carefully readying themselves to finalize their ritual. They chanted again. Before they were able to finish, the psychic vowed to avenge his death. They impaled him, all at once. They ended his life instantly.

The ritual failed. The seven vampires were supposed to self-resurrect within minutes of dying, they didn't. All seven initiates never revived. The ritual was for nothing. The elders walked away with wasted time and a renewed respect for the limitations of their own powers.

More than three hundred years passed. The elders had each thought nothing of the ritual until one day. They were visited by a young psychic vampire that wished to speak with them. He told them to remember the ritual and to recall the vow that was made upon the completion of that great blunder. The boy suddenly attacked one of the elder vampires. He was the reincarnation of the seventh initiate that died that day. After the boy's execution, the elders decided they would need to meet every three hundred years as to see how to deal with the reoccurring problem that they named the demon gifts.

Damien was pleased with the knowledge he had gained by reading hieratic document, The Elder Ritual. He had a direction to aim for. He was going to find a way to silence the elder vampires one at a time. He knew that where ever they were, Fear was one of them. Damien wanted to end the experimentation that could have resulted in dooming the world.

Damien and Yugo were near the eastern edge of the Asian continent, deep in Mongolian territory. They had been informed that several locals, all men, had been taken suddenly after a red haired girl had wondered in. Damien was hunting Fear.

It was a cold winter night in the middle of nowhere. An old stone shelter had been assaulted by a lingering blizzard. The frigid walls only offered a defense against the wind. The slabs were strong under the snow that had been built on the roof. The room was large, more than fifty feet across. Five men were held up inside. Three of the men were nearly frozen from the lack of warmth. The other two sat patiently, waiting for the storm to pass.

“We're going to die here.” One of the middle aged men said. His face dry and worn. Brown furs covered his head and body, with pelts from many different animals. He was huddled in the far corner, away from the other two men that refused to say anything.

“We're not. We'll make it through this. I've seen worse.” The oldest of the five men spoke up. His face leathery and cracked with years of lines. “We just have to keep him warm.” He looked at the youngest of the men beside him.

The man was shivering, and panting for breath. All of his heat was escaping his body. His black hair was matted. His skin was blistered from a severe fever. He was going to die. Everyone saw it. The man only chattered his teeth. He was barely conscious.

“We should put him out of his misery.” One of the two men in the opposite corner said to the others. He was wearing a red and white fox pelt around his shoulders. His short ruffled dirty blond hair was foreign to everyone there. His accent was Slavic, the three men saw him as a complete outsider.

“Shut up. We're not going to do that.” The other man in the corner next to him snapped. His black robes seemed far too light of clothing for where they were. His short black hair partially grayed by his years.

“But I can just-” The man with the fox pelt was cut off.

“Yugo. We are not going to kill the man.” The black robed man shouted at him.

“Fine. We'll do it your way Damien.” Yugo returned to crossing his arms and waiting patiently.

The fevered man fell over, breathing rapidly. He had blacked out and was convulsing on his side. His friends ran up to him and tried to help keep him from swallowing the vomit that was flowing out.

“See, If we don't do anything now, his blood will be frozen in no time. What will we do then? Can you tell me that Damien?” Yugo was pressing the issue.

Damien turned to Yugo, annoyed at his words. “Can't you respect what's happening here?” Damien pointed over to the man dying on the floor, not ten feet from them. “His brother is dying. A life is fading from this world. An innocent soul. Don't you remember what it's like to be mortal Yugo? To be fragile?”

“Simply, no.” Yugo said as he stood.

“Yugo, what are you doing?” Damien got up with caution. He had an idea of what Yugo was positioning himself for.

“Come on now, we can't let them live. They know what we are.” Yugo's fangs were showing, dripping wet from anticipation.

Damien moved into a defensive pose in front of the three men. “This isn't what we came here for. You know that.”

“But they know!” Yugo said again.

“Because you revealed as much to them.” Damien looked back at the three men.

The two living men were paying full attention to Yugo and Damien. Their friend was dead and they worried their end was near.

“Wipe their minds of this and prepare yourself. We're leaving.” Damien suggested.

Yugo was ready to contest Damien's decision. He was thirsty. He wanted the dead man at the very least. He wasn't backing down. Yugo squinted his eyes at Damien. They changed, showing the full color of his purple vampire eyes shining in the dark room.