Shining in Crimson: Empire of Blood Book One (A Dystopian Vampire Novel) (29 page)

Hank saw no choice but to comply. If for no other reason than the submachine gun the sentry pointed generally in his direction.  But even more so he could see that Charles Lotinger was not someone to be easily reckoned with. Even when you've been through
all that
Hank had the night prior. But most of all, he was shaking uncontrollably and knew there would be no way he could put up any kind of fight. With his obvious submission shown, Lotinger motioned with his right hand for the sentry to move him. The sentry pulled Hank forward by his wrist, causing him to tumble forward to the floor.

"One of the aftereffects of the tranquilizer you were given is poor depth perception and balance. Are you having any trouble remembering anything?" Lotinger said, as he extended his right hand to Hank. Hank accepted it and, with Lotinger's help, pulled himself up from the floor.

"Not anymore."

"Good, it usually takes a while for the amnesia to wear off. That's just the Midazolam in the mix, has some nasty effects sometimes, that one. Here, I'll give you some help." Lotinger took Hank's arm and began leading him forward as the sentry followed behind. Every few minutes or so, the barrel of his submachine gun would touch Hank's back. He was pretty sure this was not by accident. He was surprised his treatment hadn't been much worse. The last time he was in the Empire's custody, they had hardly given him anything more than a rifle butt over the head, and a good shove for every lax movement. The hallway was no more exciting once Hank was in it than it had looked from inside the cell. He found the next hall they turned at to be just as featureless. What he also noticed was just how quiet it was in this place. There were sounds, but they were muffled and very far away. The lack of other people especially interested him. There were many other doors along each hallway; all of them looked the same, save for each having their own unique six digit sequence labeled at eye level. His had been 461286. He had noticed it as the door was closed and relocked. The lack of windows throughout this place made Hank curious.

"Are we somewhere underground?" he asked.
The sentry instinctively rifle-butted Hank in the back, knocking him out of Lotinger's grip and sending him down on his knees.
He looked up to see an expression of rage take over Lotinger's face. The sentry was already backing away, as if he had shot a bear and the bear had managed to survive. After a long tense moment, Lotinger seemed to have calmed down. He sighed heavily, and then spoke through clenched teeth.

"Mr. Evans is the Emperor's guest and is to be handled with care, do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," the sentry said, his face red and constricted.

"Forgive him, Mr. Evans. Working down here, he has become far too used to bullying people," Lotinger said as he helped Hank up for the second time.

"So, this place is underground?"

"Yes, it is a particular type of facility used for those who are, or have been affected by, vampires."

"You mean some of these cells have vampires in them?"

"Yes, most do." Lotinger laughed. "You didn't think all of the vampires within the Imperial border lived in Necropolis, did you?"

Before he could answer, they were at the end of a hall and facing a strange set of black elevator doors. Lotinger let go of Hank, who was now leaning against the wall. He then waved his good hand over a blue glowing screen to the right of the doors and it instantly turned green, opening the elevator. Once they were inside, Lotinger allowed Hank to lean against the elevator railing for support. It was a short trip that must have only gone down a couple of floors, Hank estimated. When the elevator opened, Hank was surprised to see such a small room before him. Lotinger took Hank's arm and pulled him up to a walking position and turned to the sentry.

"Return to your duties, I can take it from here."

"Yes, sir," the sentry said and then saluted.

Once Lotinger and Hank were through, the elevator doors closed behind them. The room inside was dimly lit and medium-sized. It looked like an office to Hank. In the middle sat a large, sturdy, darkly finished desk with many papers and things scattered about its surface. Behind the desk, sitting in an oversized leather desk chair, someone was facing away from them. Hank's withdrawals intensified as he recognized a scent in the air. It was weak, but he could have smelled even a drop of it with perfect clarity at this point.

"Welcome, Mr. Evans," a voice said from the chair. Hank felt as if he were in a sort of vacuum, the sounds of the room were crisp and echoless. "Have a
seat,
I will be with you in a moment." The Emperor's voice sounded scratchier than Hank remembered from television. Hank was confused as to why he was being made to wait, as the Emperor seemed to be just sitting there, doing nothing. Just as soon as this thought entered Hank's mind, the chair swiveled, and he was surprised at what he saw. It was the Emperor, all right. He was wearing his blinding white robe, as he always seemed to be. But something was very different about him. His brown eyes were very bloodshot, yet he looked younger than Hank remembered. His hair had been somewhere between gray and white but now it was just gray. But his skin was what stuck out most. It had been slightly wrinkled in the past few years, but was now youthful in appearance.

"I'm going to get right to the point, Mr. Evans, I have a business proposition to offer you, and I think you will find yourself quite," he paused, "unmistakably," then leaned back, "unable to refuse." His smile gave off a look of compassion mixed with contempt. Hank found himself tongue tied as he sat shaking wildly. With what little coherence he had, he wondered why he was still alive.

The Emperor cleared his throat and continued. "I have once again found myself in need of a mediator, thanks to unfortunate events that occurred last night, and your ability to survive, where no man has formerly done so, has given me the expectation that you would manage this position considerably more successfully than your predecessors," he said and laughed.

Even in his current position, Hank wanted nothing in the world less than to ever go back to that dreadful city. He found himself shaking his head almost as insuppressibly as the rest of his body.

The Emperor's good humor vanished as his mouth lined up completely straight. "You will find it to your benefit to know the consequences of not accepting my offer before you decide so hastily, Mr. Evans."

In an instant, Hank found his chair swiveled around and facing a large screen mounted on the wall.  Looking over his shoulder, he could see a hand grasping the back of his chair. It belonged to the man who had called himself Charles Lotinger. Hank turned back to face the display. Static filled the screen and then flickered until an image took its place. There, in black and white, was Toby. The boy was curled up and crumpled in the corner of a cell similar to the one Hank had just come from. His voice quivering madly from the emotional jolt and the sickness of addiction, Hank called out, "Toby!" He lifted from his seat and fell to the floor as he reached out for the screen. Just as quickly the image went completely blank.

"Now, Mr. Evans, are you ready to negotiate? Or shall I instruct Mr. Lotinger to inflict the first consequence on your son?" Hank lunged up from the floor almost drunkenly, nearly reaching the desk, save for Lotinger grabbing hold of him and throwing him back in his chair in a single motion.

"You let him go or I swear-"

"What, Mr. Evans? What can you do to me?"

Hank was still struggling as Lotinger held him down in his chair with one hand. Everything going on seemed to combine at that moment to further worsen Hank's condition. His shaking became violent as he glared at the Emperor. He was beginning to feel as though he would die if it went on much longer. The Emperor, noticing his physical state, smiled wryly.

"There is another component of this deal, Mr.
Evans, that
you have not allowed me to yet include, by way of your premature refusal." His face changed then to one of tremendous compassion. "I know why you suffer," he said in a gentle voice. "I know what it is you need. I know what it is you hunger for, and I can take this pain away from you."

He nodded assuredly with an even more nurturing expression. Hank knew that the man wasn't
lying,
he had smelled the blood in the room ever since he had entered it. It was the biggest reason he was losing more and more control over himself. The Emperor picked up a black box that sat atop the desk and pushed some buttons on it. The next moment a strange, secret compartment opened and the presence of ancestor blood overpowered Hank's every sense all at once. Before he could stop himself, he reached out with both of his hands for the tiny glass vial that sat snugly inside the small, velvet-lined drawer. Before his hands could get to it, Lotinger grabbed his collar from behind, keeping him just out of reach. The Emperor let out a dry laugh.

"Ah, ah, ah, Mr. Evans.
As you should well know, nothing in this world is for free." He grinned at Hank with a devious smirk that said
I've got you right where I want you
. Near to choking, Hank was still reaching out for the vial. "You see Mr. Evans, it's like I said,
you
cannot refuse me. If you do what I ask, your son will be spared much unpleasantness, and I will supply you with all the blood that you will need." He paused for a moment and his smile widened, "Indefinitely."

Tears were now streaming from Hank's face.

"Wi-will you le-let Toby go?"

"Yes, but you will both be kept track of.
Especially you.
And your performance will determine whether he will stay in your care." His face went grim. "Or mine." The Emperor swiveled lazily in his chair a little to the left and sighed. "So, what do you say, Hank?" The word "Hank" sounded strange coming from him; it was too informal.

"So, if, if I do well, T-Toby can stay with me?"

"Yes, if you do well, Toby can stay with you. You will be paid a generous salary, and I will keep you supplied in blood. There is no good reason not to take this deal."

"But, what if some-something happens, out of m-my control, wha-what then?"

"Mr. Evans, I'm an understanding man. You only need to concern yourself with doing your job well, and no harm need come to the boy." Hank knew then he was lying, but saw no other choice. There was no conceivable way he could save his son otherwise. And the blood was right there, he could have it. He could have it whenever he needed it, and he really needed it right this moment more than anything. More, even, than Toby. Anger rose up in him at the thought, and he denied it, as if he could really lie to himself. He
drooped
his head forward and began to weep. He felt Lotinger's grip loosen on his arms. Through his tear-soaked eyelashes, he could see the Emperor smiling victoriously.

"Mr. Lotinger has a device in his pocket. All I need for you to do, Hank, is swallow it. It will repair and upgrade the monitoring device that is already inside you. With this device, I warn you now, we will be able to see and hear anything that you do, in real time. And if you try to have it removed, not only will it kill you, Mr. Evans, I will kill your son. Do you understand?"

Hank nodded shakily. Lotinger let go of him and turned him around, then pulled the capsule-like device from his pocket and held it out to give to Hank. Hank took it and within a moment, Lotinger provided him with a glass of water with which to ingest it. He put the capsule on his tongue and with one long
gulp
of water, he swallowed it, feeling the urge to cry, but holding back with what little strength he had.

"Congratulations, Mr. Evans, you are now one of the most important assets to the American Empire, and please, by all means, drink." Hank turned to see the Emperor holding the vial out toward him. He swiftly took it from the Emperor's hand, and crouching down to the floor, pulled out the stopper. He put the open vial to his lips and slowly tipped it back. His tongue felt magnetized to the liquid as it came closer. When the first drop touched, he felt the world stop. His heart rate increased as a feeling of intense ecstasy overwhelmed his every cell. He tipped his head further and smiled as the blood flowed down his throat. It reminded him of the first time the blood had spattered into his mouth. Immediately he realized that something was different about this blood. It was fresh. That was why it reminded him of the first time. He dismissed a brief curiosity at how this could be. What did it matter to him, so long as he had
it.
He smiled as he looked up at Lotinger, who was looking down at him with a sort of contempt in his features.

"Very well.
You will be briefed and trained for a time dependent on what you will require. I will monitor your progress from time to time, and then, we will send you on your first assignment." The Emperor was standing now, looking down at Hank and appearing quite accomplished. "You made the right choice, Mr. Evans."

But he didn't feel like he had. What little of himself was left at the moment felt like he had sold his
soul.

"I suppose now you would like to see your son. Mr. Lotinger will take you to him."

At the mention of his son, Hank immediately began to wipe his mouth as a sense of self-consciousness brought him fully back to reality. Then, he picked himself up from the floor and straightened out his clothes as if anything could be done to give him the appearance of being well tailored. He looked at the Emperor, unsure what he should say. Then, Lotinger knelt in front of the desk.