Shining in Crimson: Empire of Blood Book One (A Dystopian Vampire Novel) (20 page)

"It's okay, honey. It will all be over soon," she said.

Hank squealed in a pitch he hadn't known his vocal chords capable of. He turned his head just enough to see Rachel's face next to his with a menacing grin baring her pointed canines.

Then, in Diana's voice, she spoke again.

 "What's the matter, Hank, don't you recognize the true love of your life?" her voice dripping with bitterness and sarcasm.

Hank looked at her in terror. He couldn't understand what was happening.

"How are you doing that?" he cried.

"Neat, isn't it?" she asked in her own voice. "You see, some of us have talents beyond the rest. I happen to have the talent of mimicry." she said, widening her smile and showing more teeth.

"But how?" he whined, trying to find the words to complete the sentence.

"Oh, that part was easy. Not even a talent, really.
Just the drinker's curse.
You see, all of us learn much from those we drink from."

Hank looked at her, his face a mix of confusion, anger, and anguish.

"Don't look at me like that. I know you're not smart enough to understand. When I spilled your blood for the challenge, it spilled onto my tongue. Not a lot, but enough," she said, still smiling.

He had forgotten about this. It all made sense now, though it didn't soothe the pain, not even a little bit. She pulled back on his hair again, causing the floor of the building above to be the only thing in view. Then, she slithered her face against the side of his and whispered into his ear in Diana's voice again.

"I'm only supposed to kill you. But after you insulted my lover and I saw yours from your very memory, I decided to have a little fun with you along the way," Hank was spinning in place, trying to figure out who she was talking about.

"Lover?" was all he could get out as Diana's voice seemed to resonate throughout his skull.

"The greatest of us all.
The one who will soon take his rightful place as our master and lead us to victory against your puny people," she said.

Hank still didn't get it and was sure his face was showing it. He took a moment to gather some courage and warm up some of the chill in his heart.

"You'll have to forgive me. I piss off a lot of people and I can't make anything out of all this gibberish. Give me a name, you psychotic bitch!" he yelled as he struggled to free his head. He felt his neck crack slightly as she pulled harder in a quick motion. As he felt his consciousness slipping, he heard her speak once more.

"Peter!" she said, caressing the name with her lips. As his brain tried to process what she had said, Hank's vision began to blur. Then, he felt everything slide away from him.

* * *

"You're early," Kato said, pulling the door the rest of the way open.

"I can't help it that everything is going even smoother than I planned," Peter said.

"Not quite everything," Kato said angrily. "You told me Isingoma wouldn't get hurt, you promised!"

"He's alive, isn't he? Besides, he put up more of a fight than they expected. If I had been there myself, I would have been able to prevent it, but you know as well as I do where I was then."

"I don't care where you were or how much of a fight Isingoma put up!"

"I'm sorry, Kato. I will give your brother a special place in
my
council."

Kato relaxed, thinking this over for a moment.

"All right.
Come in, then," he said, gesturing inside.

* * *

Peter stepped into the room, looking greedily at Ishan's body.

He took slow, deliberate steps toward Ishan's bedside. He gently ran his hand down Ishan's face, over his chin, and down the front of his throat then down the side of his neck. He stopped when his fingertips were hovering just over the carotid artery, savoring the excitement of what he was about to do. Then he leaned down onto one knee and whispered into Ishan's ear.

"Goodbye, old friend. I hope your dreams are filled with things vivid and sweet.
Because, they will be your last."
He moved toward Ishan's neck. Then, with utter loss of control, he
lunged
his teeth into the ancient vampire's neck, piercing right into the artery he had singled out, and drank.

Chapter 16

Break On Through...

F
rom within the void, Hank noticed a trickle of light as fuzzy shapes and colors started molding together into movement. Maybe it was because of the voice he had just been painfully made to remember, but the movement before him resolved into Diana. No, it wasn't Diana after all. It was
her
.
The girl from downtown.
The one who got him into this mess in the first place.
Well, that wasn't completely accurate. He shared a big part of the responsibility as well.

Even though she was dressed like trash, she took his breath away as soon as he saw her. He was crossing
Illinois Street
, minding his own business. She looked so much like his dead wife that Hank found
himself
staring at her from the middle of the street and only realized it when he was woken by several angry car horns. He was there now, all over again, watching her. The sound of car horns and disgruntled shouts for Hank to move caught her attention and she turned and looked right at him. He froze again just like he did back then. He tried to fight it, but he found himself doing just as he did that day.

He raised his arm to keep her attention, but she turned and race-walked away from him. This time he understood why. He failed to notice the first time that he must have looked like a madman looking for an innocent victim to assault. Just like the gesture itself, he was unable to stop himself from repeating his next move. He ran after her. She had just disappeared around the western corner of
West Ohio Street
, looking back at him as if in fear for her life, just like she had then. He never knew why he had taken off after her, not even then. He hadn't thought it was his
wife,
he just wanted to talk to her for some strange reason. As if meeting her would give him some kind of closure that nothing else had so far. This time, even though he knew how ridiculous his reasoning had been, he found himself still unable to prevent his actions. He grabbed hold of the two-tone granite wall to help slow him as he spun around the corner. He called out to her as he set foot onto the sidewalk of
Ohio Street
.

"Ma’am!
Please, wait! You look like someone. I just want to talk to you," he yelled out as he gestured toward her again.

Almost breaking into a run, the woman seemed to have no interest in meeting Hank. She reached into her bag as she started to run and pulled out a cell phone. The phone had shiny, gem-like designs on it. Every other second or so, it reflected a blinding ray of sunlight into Hank's eyes as the woman ran with it at her ear. As she talked into the phone too fast for Hank to understand, he saw her glance periodically at his reflection in the windows that lined the building beside them to the left. The next thing Hank knew, she made it to the end of the block and swung left fast, following
North Capital Avenue
. Hank noticed as he turned onto the street himself that the same configuration of four windows grouped between stone pillars lined this side of the building as well. But it didn't last long. The building ended at an opening between itself and the next building that lead into a parking garage built into the next building.

She turned left and ran into the opening for the garage. Hank knew what was coming but had, by this point, realized that there was no escaping the fact that he was going to relive it completely untainted from the first time.

The pimp came running out from the ground level of the garage right on cue, baseball bat in hand. Hank stopped immediately, holding his hands up in a gesture that clearly said, "
please
don't hit me." The Diana clone ran behind the pimp without looking back as if she were running for home base in the major leagues. The heels of her shoes nearly broke off as she waddled for the garage.

"Starla doesn't hook up with anyone without an appointment made through me, ya hear, son?" the pimp said as he aimed the bat in Hank’s direction. He stood about six feet tall, wearing a brown corduroy suit with a purple silk handkerchief hanging from his jacket pocket and a cowboy hat that almost matched the color of his suit. Aside from the handkerchief, his clothes nearly camouflaged his pale skin. And here it was, the crucial moment, more than any
other, that
Hank wanted so badly to do over. It was the last chance he could have taken to walk away. Even though he knew in the real world, no one could really go back and do anything over again, he still tried to will himself to do just that.
But no dice.
He once again found himself reaching in his back pocket for his wallet with his right hand as he continued to hold his left up in that gesture of safety. The pimp, with a look of greedy curiosity, watched him as his arms loosened, letting the bat rest against his shoulder.

"How much for your trouble?
Please, I just need to talk to her for a little while. She looks just like my..." he trailed off as the pimp let his right hand steady the bat against his shoulder and reached out to snatch Hank's wallet from his hand. In any sane situation, this move would have pissed Hank off and he would have said as much. But he didn't want to spoil his chance at speaking with the girl. It was like he was in a trance. The pimp was counting all the money in Hank’s wallet and looking pleased. Hank had just withdrawn a large chunk from the ATM to make a payment on the car he was buying for Toby. He would still have time to get more out and make the payment. He just had to talk to this girl who looked so much like his Diana. When the pimp had taken all the cash and thrown the wallet back to Hank, he turned and whistled behind him.

Slowly and cautiously, the girl came out of the shadows of the garage and made her way toward the two of them. Once she exchanged glances with the pimp, her whole aura seemed to change like the difference between night and day. Before Hank could stop her, she was caressing up and down his arm with her fingers and beaming at him. The effect was immobilizing, as her expressions were too much like Diana's.

When they entered the room at the Hilton down the way on
Market Street
, Hank found himself simply staring at Starla. She returned his stare patiently. She seemed to wait for some kind of instructions. When none came, she sat him down on the foot of the bed. Now that he had her attention and had spoken with her, he realized all he really wanted was to look at her for a while. To watch her face make the different expressions it made, whatever they be. To fade into the illusion that she had never died in the first place and everything was right with the world. After a while, she spoke.

"You like to watch, huh? You want me to take off my clothes so you can see a little more of me?" she asked coyly.

"No, that's okay. I just want to look at you. You look so much like her," he said.

Her expression changed to one of pity as he felt tears slide down his face. But just as quickly as that, her expression changed again. She put her hands on his chest and slid them up over his shoulders as she moved closer to him. It was so reminiscent of something Diana would have done that it caught him off guard. He let himself be gently pushed back onto the bed as she leaned forward and began kissing his neck. The illusion disappeared and Hank wept. Starla stopped in obvious aggravation and sat up abruptly, still straddling Hank.

"What's the matter, huh?" she asked in exasperation.

Hank went to say something, but she put her finger to his lips and wiped the tears from his eyes with both of her hands.

"Suck it up, hun," she said and then started pulling Hank's shirt up.

He tried to stop her, but in his emotional state, she had the upper hand. Before he knew it, she had both their shirts off. He couldn't help but notice the silky black bra she wore and felt a surge of mixed feelings. He hadn't been with a woman since Diana, so it wasn't surprising that he felt desire. Yet, he also felt
a revulsion
as he realized how different this lookalike of his loving bride really was. She was sitting there attempting to unbuckle his belt as he tried to, as gently as he could, push her away from him. The result was that his hands were on her shoulders in what must have looked like a willing action to the police officers who busted in the door the next second. It wasn't long after that he found out Starla and her pimp were infiltrated and given a chance to regain their freedom by luring in would-be customers. For the second time, Hank wondered if that brief moment in which Starla showed him a look of pity was just an act or the real thing.