Shining in Crimson: Empire of Blood Book One (A Dystopian Vampire Novel) (23 page)

"Don't be afraid. You are not mistaken," she said fluently in Ishan’s native Sanskrit. He softly kissed the hand, indulging in the taste of her skin. He felt himself becoming intoxicated. Simon felt it, too. It was an emotion Simon had never experienced in his own life. It tore into his heart and swept away his soul. In these strange vampire eyes, he somehow saw his mother how she had always been and he had never seen her to be when she was alive. He saw and felt that here was a presence he could fall in love with and yet he hardly knew anything about it. He wasn't sure which reality it clicked in first, his or Ishan’s, but the realization came almost simultaneously for the both of them. She had some sort of power over Ishan. It was animalistic, yet emotionally complex. But even with the realization met, he could do nothing to stop it. It was as if she were a wine that had inebriated him fully or a force that could not be conquered. Yet still he found himself not wanting to pull away from this sweet power she seemed to emanate.

"Now come with me," she said in a voice that demanded with lust. Ishan found himself unable to resist and almost nearly floating along after her as she turned and walked beyond the altar toward an opening in the far wall of the cave. A burning passion spilled over from Ishan as he followed this goddess of vampires. Images began to fill up his mind. At first, he didn't understand. But then as they took shape and came together, it all started to make sense. She was talking to him in his mind. Telling him secrets that, before telling him, only she had known. He was to be her lover. She had known he would come. It wasn't just that she knew that someone would
come,
she knew that Ishan would come. She had done all in her power to speed up the process but still he would have come regardless.
Because he was the one strong enough to be her mate.
He alone.
It had always been this way. This was where they came from. Her mother's blood ran through him and entangled with his human blood. The human vampires were hardly a side affect of the venom. It was a natural process. Only through the human vampires could the ancestors breed. And it took thousands of years for one to become even barely strong enough to survive the mating process.
And
, she told him in his mind,
You, Ishan, are more than strong enough
. Ishan found that this pleased him more than anything ever had.

She took his hand, nearly stopping his heart as she came to the mouth of the cave wall. Though he knew she could tear his arm free from its socket without so much as a slight tug, she very gently led him along into the darkness of the cave.

* * *

Flight 307 landed in
Boulder
City
in the early hour of morning just before dawn. Chuck Lotinger unbuckled his safety belt, stood up slowly, and stretched with pleasure. He enjoyed life, but he enjoyed it to its fullness on the days he was able to take it from others. And two men in less than twelve hours, now that was a doozy. Chuck smiled as he pulled out his one suitcase from the overhead compartment. He began to whistle as he walked down the aisle of the plane toward the nervously smiling flight attendants waiting to guide him from the plane. He could smell the fear on them. Most people knew, could not mistake, there was something about him that just wasn't safe. He enjoyed this as well. He savored the terror that grew in the young, petite stewardesses as he leaned in close to them and with a shit-eating grin to stop them all, said, "If I were you, ladies, I would lock your doors tonight. There's a killer on the loose." He soaked in the shock that swept across their faces and his grin grew in sync with the paling of both of them. Then he nodded to them and said, "Good day," and exited the plane.

When he was through the pathetic excuse for a terminal and outside the building, he found the car assigned to him waiting as patiently for him as a car could ever wait. It was a ‘68 Corvette Roadster just as he’d
requested,
bright red, and eerily reflecting the lights of the parking lot. Chuck slid into the driver's seat and lowered the visor with his left hand then smoothly caught the set of keys in his right. He replaced the visor to its original default position, put the key in the ignition, and started up the beast with a roar. Then, he flipped a switch and backed out as the convertible top began to
raise
above him. The next second, he saw the desert stretched out before him in the pale blue light of the early dawn. He peeled out of the parking lot toward it as the convertible top finished sinking down behind his seat, a cloud of dust exploding behind the Roadster. As he sped down the narrow two-lane highway, the wind blew through his hair and the sound of the engine surrounded him with its pure might. He was sure he had the most exhilarating job on the planet. It really was turning out to be the perfect day, he thought. But then, a moment later, all of that changed. His cell phone rang. He raised it to his left ear and answered with excitement.

"I'm en route now, sir. I'll be there in less than twenty minutes at the-" his face flushed as he was interrupted. The muscles in his neck tightened and he clenched his teeth as the Emperor spoke. This was not turning out to be his lucky day after all. When the conversation was over, he carefully put the phone back in his pocket, using all his self control to keep from throwing it out into the desert, never to be found again. His eyes narrowed as he pushed harder on the gas pedal with his foot, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.

* * *

A throbbing pain he hadn't felt in over a thousand years stretched from Ishan’s throat and spread through every vein in his body as a weak form of consciousness started to dawn within him. He hadn't felt such agony since the night his heart stopped beating. A large blurry shape was slowly coming into focus hovering over him. It was so
close,
he couldn't make it out at first. He could make out flesh and something yellow in color. Hair, it had to be hair. The hair was blonde and the pain he was feeling was rooted below the hair. It was all so confusing. He had been giving his people orders, making the way for Hank to leave, and working on getting his science team to recover the backup system. Now, he was floating in some kind of abyss, losing a second life to the one at his throat. But worst of all, he was sure that he knew who was at his throat, but he couldn't bring the name to his mind. This was bad. Even in his weakest states, he always had the sharpest mind and the most detailed memory. Something was very wrong. He started to feel
a limpness
all throughout his body. After two thousand years, it was all about to come to an end. He only hoped Hank made it out alive. It was the only way. But he hadn't told him why it was so important and this brought a stabbing sense of regret almost more excruciating than the fangs in his neck and the taking of his blood.

The head with blonde hair popped up revealing a sneering face with fangs dripping blood as it gasped for air.
Peter, that
was his name. As soon as the face was visible, the name followed suit. Things were coming back to him now. However, strength was not. Peter continued to smirk at Ishan with the same head-splitting grin.

"Hello, old friend. Nice to see you could awaken so I could see the sad, sad look on your face. I must say it brings me great pleasure," Peter said.

Ishan inhaled raspily and tried to speak in reply, but nothing came.

"Oh, don't waste your last breath on me, old friend. With every breath you keep, the more rich blood that's left for me, the more…
power
," he said, relishing the word, "left for me."

Ishan tried to move but Peter only laughed as Ishan’s body merely shuddered instead. Then Peter’s expression changed from one of humor to one of anger and he thrust his head back down. Ishan felt the younger vampire's fangs pierce into him, making a fresh wound.

* * *

Not an ounce of compassion filled Peter as the memories of Ishan's life played out before him. In fact, he felt only satisfaction as he learned the most intimate details of Ishan's life. He even savored the times of suffering, though he experienced them as if they were his own. He watched, through Ishan's memories, the first time he met the ancient vampire. He felt firsthand the feelings that came with Ishan's first impression of him. What he felt jolted and infuriated him. It had taken a few minutes to recognize the emotion as Ishan had felt it on that day. It had a depth to it that wasn't far from sorrow, and yet simultaneously, inferiority, of which Peter knew all too well. When it hit him, he had nearly physically taken his teeth from Ishan's throat. Ishan had felt pity for him. Rage swelled through him as he realized this. What reason
did he have
for pitying me, he thought. It should have been the other way around. Ishan, always hearkening to the queen's every desire. An existence of pure slavery, it had seemed to Peter. But he also remembered that very day from his own memory and the first impression he had felt of this now-dying vampire. He felt intrigue and even some reverence for the ancient fool. But now, and for a long time now, he could only feel contempt for him. He was a coward, idly standing by while his own people were kept as slaves. The only one he never betrayed was his precious queen.

* * *

It was almost laughable to Simon, when he saw himself in Ishan's memory. Even in their last encounter, after he became a vampire, he saw himself for the weak, meandering thing that he was, and had been all of his life. For a short while after experiencing these memories, Simon barely felt or understood anything else as he was overcome with a feeling of worthlessness and self loathing. Had he really led such a despicable life as this? Had he always had such a limited compassion for others? Then, he thought of his mother and the way he blamed her for what had been done to her. Then, as if all of the empathy he should have felt for others throughout his life had been bottled up inside and was now pouring out at once, he felt an explosion of pain, sympathy, and guilt. As he came to terms with this, he realized the memories had stopped, and he was now within his own unconscious mind as if alone in a dark room.

But then he heard sounds, strange sounds, and realized that he was in fact conscious. He strained to open his eyes. At first, the same darkness was all that he could see. Then, his vision was completely gray and fuzzy for a long while. He knew that his eyes were adjusting to the lighting in whatever room he was now in. The strange sounds continued. He could hear the incessant beeping of what sounded like hospital monitoring equipment and something else. The "something else" was what confused him. It sounded like French kissing maybe, or a person sucking on something. He closed his eyes and opened them again, repeating the process several times over.

His sight began to restore. He was first able to make out the black-dotted, white ceiling tiles above him. Then, he looked downward to see the wall that was before him. It was white as well, only completely vacant of any other detail, save for a few electronic devices and a chair in front of it. He looked to his left, the direction the strange sucking sounds were coming from. He first saw the long flow of Ishan's hair. But the contrast of blonde hair intermingling with it demanded his attention. Then Ishan's body jolted as if he were convulsing and Peter's face was revealed as he drank from Ishan's neck. The fury of what happened to him came back to Simon then and it was now combined with a new thing. It was now linked with
a desperation
to save Ishan, a vampire for whom, he realized, he now cared deeply for. The impulse from his brain told him to lunge for Peter, but his body did nothing. Ishan screamed out in pain almost as if he realized that Simon could do nothing for him. But Ishan showed no signs of coherency other than agony. Simon tried yet again with all of his will to move and still his body did not comply. A deep rasping sound came from Ishan as the ancient vampire continued to hold on to his own life. But Peter only sucked harder in response.

* * *

Peter was surprised enough when he found out Simon had managed to be chosen by the ancestors as a host. He was doubly surprised now to learn just how much of Ishan's blood the fledgling vampire managed to drain before it knocked him out. If he hadn't have been so wrapped up in Ishan's memories, the edge of fear in him would have developed more fully, but he was too emotionally involved to let it consume him. He had good reason to fear. It changed things a lot. It meant the only reason the battle between Ishan and himself went so smoothly was due to Ishan's extreme weakness. Arrogantly, he had assumed that Ishan's state was more due to being worn down in the fight. It also meant that Simon was now possibly a much more formidable opponent than Peter expected. He could feel now that Ishan was just on the verge of dying. He savored the taste of it, the blood and the thought that this contemptible thing would die. He had loved him once. Back then, he would have taken on the Empire on his own, if Ishan had asked him to. He had never known that he could feel so much in one single moment. But now, the time was his to inflict anguish. He began sucking harder, wanting more and more for Ishan's life to end forever.

* * *

Simon focused all his concentration on his legs. At first nothing happened, but after a moment of harvesting all of his mental strength his legs began to twitch. Relief flooded his heart, and he tried again, pushing harder this time. His left leg moved slightly. As it moved, he felt an electric jolt through his entire body, a feeling akin to pins and needles. The sensation grew until his skin, muscles, and bones felt like they were vibrating. It reminded him of what he experienced when he changed from human to human vampire, only much more complex and enhanced. After a moment or so, it faded and he was left with a pleasurable vibration throughout his core. At that moment, he knew he could move. He knew he could move fast. So fast that he realized he was already in the air, lunging for Peter, before he had even finished his thought.