Reign of the Vampires

REIGN OF THE VAMPIRES

The Society, Book One

By REBEKAH R. GANIERE

LYRICAL PRESS

An imprint of Kensington Publishing Corp.

KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/

Dedication

For those who believe in me, love me and put up with me.

Acknowledgements

For all my Critique Partners, Beta Readers, and Supporters. Especially the one who knows where all the bodies are buried. She knows who she is!
Katanie

Chapter 1

Mason blinked against the sun’s harsh light bouncing off bright white picket fences. A typical Midwestern suburb. Only the world hadn’t been typical in almost a decade. The smell of lingering death filled his nostrils. Everything on this side of the small town was too quiet. Even with the virus-mutated vamps at work in the “real world,” there should be some in the area, but there weren’t any. His eye twitched.

Happy plastic animals stared at him from their manicured lawns. It looked so blissfully...human. Problem was, there weren’t any free humans in the cities anymore. Now it was just the Vampires, vampyr, and vamps. The humans in the van with him didn’t know how much worse it could be, but Mason did. He knew all too well what it’d been like when his kind had been around.

He wanted to turn the rusty brown Volkswagen van around, drive right out of the neighborhood and on to the next city. But they didn’t have time. They’d been gone for almost a week. Sheila and Nita were ready to get back to the encampment. They missed their men and children.

“Mason, we’re wasting time, man. We should hit as many as we can, and then head for home,” said Jax.

Mason didn’t speak. He gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. He sniffed the air again; it was heavy with pollution and death. Something about the neighborhood made his skin itch. “I don’t like this one,” he finally said. “It feels wrong.”

“It feels like all the others.” Jax sat forward between Whitey and Mason’s seats and peered out the front window. “It feels like vamps.”

“No...there’s something else. It’s too quiet. We should keep moving.”

“They’re all quiet. There isn’t anyone home,” Jax replied. “Kiddie vamps are pretending to still be human at school. Mommy vamps are working for the Vampires. We’re in the middle of the shift change. We only have a short amount of time before the first shift comes home and the sun goes down. We need to be way out of this city when that happens.”

Mason swore under his breath and gave in to the pressure of the group. He nodded and everyone grabbed their packs. The van was almost full. Anything they got now would go under seats, on laps and in every open nook and cranny. It was dangerous coming into the cities. Humans were a hot commodity now that they were all but wiped out. Vampire slavers hunted everywhere but in the mountains where the encampments hid.

The group piled out of the van. They’d be obvious to any vamp who spotted them. It was hard to suppress the humanness of people, their look, smell, movement. Luckily for him, he wasn’t human. Sighing, he opened his door and followed the group. For the most part he didn’t mind the members of the raid group. The human refugees had taken him in when he was close to starvation. They were almost like family. Almost.

For the next hour the group moved from house to house, breaking in, stealing the things they needed most, and slipping back out. When they regrouped at the end of the street, their bags were mostly full. A last house remained. It was older than the others, possibly the original house that the neighborhood had been built around. The large, two-story New England style home boasted a wrap-around porch, broken blue shutters, and a faded-blue front door. Mature willows and oak trees dotted the dying yard.

Mason’s skin prickled. “We skip this one.”

“Come on, Mason, it’s the last one.” Jax stretched his ample arms above his head.

“We go back now.” Mason headed to the van.

“Mason, we can’t,” Sheila said. “We barely found more than a pack of Band-Aids this time. We need aspirin, peroxide, sterile gauze at least.”

He stopped. Medical supplies of any kind were getting harder to come by. Vampires had almost done away with sickness since they’d taken over. The humans lived in squalor, making the smallest injuries devastating now. A bottle of hydrogen peroxide was almost sacred.

He held up his hands. “Okay. But if we don’t find any, we leave immediately, no questions. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” they said together.

Mason shook his head and took another look at the old house. Wild and overgrown, the bushes formed a barrier between it and the other houses. The gardener must have given up on holding them back years ago. They would give the group more cover.

He jogged around the side of the structure, walked onto the porch, and peered into a grimy, cobweb-covered window. He tried the door handle. It was locked. Walking quietly as possible on the squeaky wooden boards, he checked a second window, then a third. None of them budged.

He headed back to the door. The lock was old. Opening it was risky with everyone around. Something in his gut told him they should walk away. He glanced over his shoulder at his small band, waiting at the edge of the porch
.
It was just another house.

He grasped the knob, letting his hand rest there. Taking a deep breath, he concentrated on his inner beast. The monster stretched and yawned inside him. His temperature rose and heat flowed out of his fingertips and into the round, aged brass. The knob seared and turned red. He gave it a quick jerk and the lock inside gave way. The handle broke off in his palm and the door swung inward.

Silence emanated from the interior. Stepping into the kitchen, he waited another moment, then motioned for the group. He laid the knob on the chipped countertop. The house smelled of dust and mildew. The faded and tattered curtains were drawn.

The kitchen had once been white, but the cabinets had aged to a dingy cream. The wallpaper was a sad shade of overcooked egg yolk. And the black-and-white linoleum flooring looked like a professional hockey team had used it for skating practice. A table crumbled in the corner. The surrounding chairs had buckled legs from years of too much weight.

Walking through the kitchen, he scanned the room, moving toward the front of the house. Dusty and old furniture from the sixties or seventies crumbled on the frayed and neglected shag carpet. Sepia-toned photos of a human family long-since dead sat on the mantel, engulfed in cobwebs. He prowled into the front hall, through a cluttered den, down a smaller hallway, past a bathroom, and back into the old kitchen.

All eyes were on him. He rubbed his hand through his shaggy, dark hair. They should be gone already. Dusk was coming. He stopped and took a deep breath; then he smelled it. The smell of undead. Vampires.

He ran from the kitchen in an instant, pulling the women out with him. His muscular legs took the porch steps in a long stride. His huge, six-foot-six, two hundred and forty pound body hurtled down to where the rest of the group stood.

“Move.” He passed them at top speed.

The group didn’t wait to find out what happened. He pounded down the front lawn and onto the street. His pack jangled on his back as he ran. Behind him came the sounds of shoes hitting the ground, and heavy breathing. He glanced over his shoulder. Nita slowed, holding her side. Suddenly she fell to the ground with a small scream. Everyone stopped.

“Get ’em to the van, Jax.” Mason ran to the splayed Nita.

“Sorry, Mason. Cramp,” she gasped.

He didn’t reply, simply picked the female up as if she were no more than a child. Standing, he looked up at the house they’d run from. A window in the attic had a curtain pulled aside. The interior was dark and Mason couldn’t remember if the curtain had been open when they’d approached. Didn’t matter, he wasn’t going to stick around to find out. That was for damn sure. Turning, he sprinted to the waiting van.

* * * *

Mason relaxed the further away they got. Running to the cities and raiding for supplies always set him on edge.

They’d been driving for almost three hours before he stopped to let the group out to pee. He wracked his brain, trying to remember if the curtain in the attic had been open when they had approached the house, but he couldn’t remember. He didn’t want to ask the group. No need to worry them.

They talked about what they’d grabbed and reuniting soon with their loved ones. He didn’t join in the merriment. He had no one.

The darkening night sky loomed over them. He looked down at his watch. It was half past nine. They were supposed to arrive at the meet-up point with another raiding group by eleven, and they were still an hour away.

“We gotta move,” he said.

The group stopped chattering and piled into the van. He grabbed his driver’s door and swung it open.

Whitey approached him. “Do you want me to drive the last bit?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’ve driven the whole way, Mason. The least I can do is give you a break for a bit,” said Whitey.

Whitey was a pale, skinny kid who played gopher at camp. With no real education, Whitey did odd jobs. Mason liked Whitey; he didn’t talk too much. Mason appreciated that.

“All right.” Mason walked around the front of the van to the passenger’s side. He stooped his head and got into the van. Settling into his seat, he let himself relax for the first time since they’d left the encampment. Whitey pulled away from the side of the road and continued toward the mountains.

Seventy minutes later, Whitey pulled off the main highway onto a muddy road. Fresh tire tracks from the other van dug into the wet soil. They drove through tall pine trees and up the mountainside for several miles toward the hiding spot they used for regrouping while raiding. Their encampment was still over two hundred miles away and being out after dark was risky. They’d stop here till morning.

A light flickered in the distance, and as they approached, it grew stronger. Smoke rose high into the night from a fire the other group had built. Whitey pulled up next to the van already parked in the clearing, then killed the engine. The group poured out, running to embrace their friends at the fire pit. Mason watched the scene, wondering for the millionth time what it would be like to have that kind of companionship.

“You will find her
,” his mother had said. “
When you meet her, you’ll know. She’ll be the one who will set your heart free.”

“You coming?”

He shook his head and took a deep breath. “Yeah.”

Mason stepped from his seat and the other group leader approached him.

Ike, a tough Marine, ran his group with military precision. The two nodded, but didn’t shake.

“How’d it go?” Ike asked.

“Like always. Never enough.”

“We’re low on food this trip, but got some decent medical supplies from an abandoned hospital. Any trouble?”

“Nope. You?”

Ike shook his head. “Thought maybe there was a problem. Jax said you guys ran out of your area pretty quick.”

“Didn’t feel right,” Mason lied.

Ike nodded. “There’s supper if you want some. Beans and weenies, and there’s enough for everyone to have their fill.”

“Thanks.” At camp, food was rationed. But the raiding teams were allowed a large meal on their way back as a thank you for putting themselves in harm’s way for everyone else.

“Come on, people,” said Ike. “Let’s eat and get some sleep. In the morning we need to be out of here when the sun hits.”

* * * *

Mason had been asleep for three hours when Ike awoke him. His eyes flew open. “What’s wrong?”

“Come with me.”

He threw his sleeping bag open in the dimming firelight. The group was sleeping, except for Ike and Whitey, who stood guard. Ike moved to the edge of the clearing with Whitey in tow. Mason pulled on his boots and followed the pair. The air was cold on his unusually warm skin. Dew blanketed the ground, leaving everything damp. As he stomped to the vans, a trace of fear raced up his spine.

He reached Ike and Whitey. “What’s up?”

“I didn’t want to wake everyone, but I think we might have a tail. Down by the road a black car has gone back and forth four times,” said Ike.

“Show me.”

That sense of uneasiness crept up his spine as a picture of the open window curtain flooded his memory. Ike and Whitey walked past the vans to a mountain ledge that overlooked the road. The three men crawled to an outcropping that gave them a clear view of the road below. The moon was close to full in the early morning hours, enabling Mason to see clearly. Lying on his belly, he scanned the winding road.