Shining in Crimson: Empire of Blood Book One (A Dystopian Vampire Novel) (6 page)

Then, all of their faces became serious.

"Why would we do such things to our dear, sweet Mediator?" Ishan asked in his dull drone.

"Besides, the blood pact forbids it," Peter said, and all of the vampires except Ishan convulsed with laughter. Ishan, however, did manage a slight grin.

"Our business is through, Mediator," Ishan said with a strong overtone of rage.

"Oh, thank God." Simon whispered, putting his hands up to his face as if to pray. "But wait," he said, dropping his hands to his side. "We haven't even negotiated anything. Nothing has been accomplished."

"As always," Ishan said. He looked at Simon, blankly. For a split second, Simon saw Ishan’s face change into a scowl and then back to normal. It happened so fast, Simon wasn't even sure what he had just seen was real. He picked that moment to get up. None of the vampires moved to stop him. With a flash of movement and a gust of wind, Luciano was at Ishan's side, leaning over and whispering into his ear. Simon pushed his chair in, turned, and began to walk toward the door. He heard nothing at all until he was about six feet from the door.

"It appears there is still one more convict loose within the city. Peter, please escort Mr. Withers back to his car," Ishan said. Simon felt his knees go weak. In an instant, Peter moved in front of him, holding the door open for him. Something about the look on Peter's face brought Simon back to himself. He flooded with anger. He was no longer relieved that his shoulder and his ear were fine. He wanted to prove these demons had hurt him. Maybe then the Empire, his beloved Empire, would stamp out this abomination once and for all.

"After you, Simon," Peter said, still holding the door. Then he winked, making sure to show his fangs as well. Simon stomped through the open door and headed across the large round room for the elevator he’d come up in. Before Simon was halfway there, Peter stood next to the elevator with his hands behind his back, the elevator down button already lit up. When Simon arrived within a few strides of the elevator door, he heard it "ding" and then
open
just in time for him to step in. Once inside and facing the elevator door, Peter accompanied him and hit the ground button. So far, it seemed Peter was behaving himself.

But then, the elevator door closed and he seemed to disappear. Simon jumped. He turned to check behind himself. There was nothing there. He turned again to make sure Peter was not moving with him. Then, he backed toward the rear of the elevator. When he was against the back of the elevator, he noticed movement and heard a whistle above him. He looked up to find Peter hanging from the ceiling of the elevator, crouched as if to strike. His feet were burrowed into the gray ceiling tiles. His fangs dripped saliva as he smiled down at Simon. Peter’s irises seemed to be colorless now.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Simon," Peter said, widening his grin as he spoke. Then, his expression changed to false fear and he said "I wouldn't dare break the blood pact," while moving his index finger back and forth as if correcting a naughty child. Then, his body seemed to twist into a blur of motion and the light went out. A second later, Simon heard a hissing to his immediate right, so he ran toward the left side of the elevator. The hissing moved in front of him, so he stumbled back to where he had been. An instant later, he felt a slight touch against his cheek and this spooked him even more, causing him to jump toward the front of the elevator. He looked
up,
trying to find the digital display, but it seemed to be out as well. Then, he felt just enough of a gentle push to the back of his knees to send him falling backwards.

He cringed, waiting for the impending collision with the floor. Instead, he landed on what felt like two cold fleshy poles. The door opened and light enveloped the elevator as the two fleshy poles revealed themselves to be Peter’s arms. Peter lifted Simon without effort and threw him out of the elevator. Simon landed right on his feet, sharp pain shooting up his ankles. Before he could turn and complain, Peter was in front of him holding the glass door open. Simon gritted his teeth fiercely and marched toward the door. He could see a look of suspense in Peter's stature as the vampire stood holding the door. When Simon walked through, he felt a gust of air and looked back to where Peter had been to see the door slowly sway backward and close with no sign of Peter. When he turned back to look forward, Peter's face was a mere centimeter from his own.

"Boo!" Peter said and laughed. Then he moved a few feet away from Simon in a swift movement. "I promise, I promise, I'll stop. I've had my fun," he said with a grin.

This neither comforted nor calmed Simon. He began walking briskly down the sidewalk he knew led back to the welcome sign and the Empire-assigned car. After a moment, he noticed Peter walking alongside him, watching him with a smile. They walked on, stepping over miscellaneous pieces of brick and metal here and there. He could see the car. It looked like a toy off in the distance. As he angled his walking to adjust for the curve in the road, he felt a vibration from within his pocket. He reached in and pulled out his cell phone. The small digital display said
Ted Chambers
. He pecked angrily at the green answer button on the phone and slammed it to his ear.

"Simon, how is it going?" Ted asked, trying to sound cheerful.

"How is it going?" Simon repeated. "I'll tell you how it's going! These monsters are... are
..
are
..
horrible
!" he yelled into the phone. "They have insulted me, corrupted me, terrorized me, and without even allowing me the ability to actually do the job I was sent here to do!"

"Simon, are you still in the city?" Ted asked in an urgent tone.

"Yes I'm still in the city, I'm almost back to the car!" he said, continuing to vent his trauma. "These vile creatures have done things to me I—"

Ted interrupted him. "Be careful, Simon, don't do anything rash. There could be serious cons—"

"I'll be careful, all right!" Simon shouted. "I'll be careful. In fact I won't need to be careful anymore..."

"Simon, wait!"

"...because I quit!" Simon barked, slamming the cell phone against his leg. He heard his own voice echoing the words "I quit" off of the surrounding buildings. Then he felt a breeze and looked around to notice Peter was standing completely still with a look on his face Simon had not yet seen him make. Peter no longer looked at him playfully. He had a look of curious interest. Like a cat when it looks at a mouse.

"So, Mr. Withers, you are no longer Mediator to Necropolis?" Peter asked, showing way more enthusiasm than Simon could understand.

"Yes, I quit! I will not suffer such outrageous blasphemy and torture!" He yelled full on in Peter's face. The reaction from Peter was not what Simon expected. Peter stood silently, a grin stretching across his face. Then, he broke out in an uproar of laughter to the point of tears streaming down his face. Simon didn't understand and became even angrier, grinding his teeth together in fury. This only seemed to renew Peter's ongoing fit of howling. Then, after a few more minutes of guffawing, Peter leaned forward trying to catch his breath.

"Oh, that is just great," he said in a high-pitched voice still tingling with humor. "So, you are no longer Mediator protected lawfully by the Empire, Simon?" he asked and gave another chuckle.

"Yes, that's exactly what I - wait, no, what do you mean? I'm still protected, why
wouldn't I
be protected?" he cried desperately. Then
came
the distant sound of an engine starting. He turned to see the Empire-assigned car turning around and then driving away. Then, he swallowed and turned to look at Peter. Peter was no longer laughing. He straightened up and arched forward, his irises darkening to black, and his chin pulling backwards as his mouth opened to make way for his fangs.

"Only the Mediator is protected. If you are no longer Mediator and within our city then by our blood pact with the Emperor, you are now ours for the taking and no one will hear your screams," Peter said in a deep, growling voice. The next second Simon screamed as he felt his back slam against a wall and Peter's fangs tear into his throat. Then, slowly, the world fluttered dizzily away.

* * *

But Peter had lied. He knew that it was possible, somewhere out there in the city, someone could hear Simon's screams. In fact, he was counting on it. Because, once he was finished draining every last drop of fiery, self-righteous blood from Simon Withers, Peter had a job to do. There was still one convict loose in the city and Ishan expected Peter to take care of this. Within his mild statement was a charge. "Finish this loose marauder before the dawn or be prepared to lose your place on the council."

It had already been hanging in the balance, his place on the council. He had angered Ishan far too much in recent times. Peter tightened in ecstasy as he imagined the blood he was consuming from Simon's throat was actually Ishan's. What he wouldn't give to take Ishan’s place and drink his blood. To quicken himself with the old vampire's heart while it was still beating. But he knew he needed more time. He would first have to find this convict and prove he still deserved his place among the others. Then, when he was back in their good graces, when Ishan least expected it, he would strike. With this thought, he stood up triumphantly, holding Simon's limp body close. Then with a flick of his head, he threw the thing that was once Simon down onto the sidewalk where it
landed,
crumpled against the brick wall of the building. Then, he hunched down and opened up his senses. It wasn't hard with fresh blood in him. Always the blood would heighten his senses to the point of becoming almost maddeningly sensitive. He heard a rat scurry exactly 1.7 kilometers away. He knew it headed south at slightly less than a fourth of a mile an hour. He turned toward the west focusing all his senses and immediately heard the quick beating of a human heart. Then before he could hold back his amplified hearing the sound of the human's voice tore through his ears.

"Son of a bitch," the voice said. Peter burst into a run toward the sound at what he estimated to be 174 kilometers per
hour,
faster than Peter had ever ran before.

Chapter 4

Render Unto Caesar...

T
oby sat down at the far end of the long table in the back of the cafeteria with his tray of food and his copy of Caesar's Bible. The orphanage, like everything else, was run by the Empire. Therefore, everyone followed imperial rule to the letter. This meant that everyone carried the Good Book and everyone went to church on Sunday. It was the first day Toby had been allowed to join the other boys for lunch. He would have rather eaten in his room again, but all the energy it had taken to attack one of the attendants and get himself confined to his room had drained him fully with his first attempt. However, being alone for three days left him with nothing to think about but his father and he became flushed with grief. He had no way of knowing when they would take his dad to the city where he would die. All he knew was the sentence. For all he knew, his father could already be dead. He could feel the pain flow from his heart, up his chest, and to his face. It felt as though it would pour from his eyes but only tears came and still the suffering went on.

He looked down at his tray of mostly uneaten food. He had consumed about one full meal's worth in the past three days of bites he had choked down here and there. Absentmindedly, he opened the book and turned to a random page. The top of the page told him he was looking at the book of
Hosea
beginning with chapter 13. He read through the first verse on the page, verse 16, and immediately slammed the book closed. There would be no comfort for him in this book. His father told him about the parts that had been taken out of the Bible. Before the Empire, there had been a man named Jesus in it. In fact the book had even been split into two sections titled the Old and New testaments. Toby's father told him about the now mostly missing New Testament. And about how the one book that remained from it had been altered, replacing the name Jesus with Caesar. Toby had to fight himself back from weeping again. Everything he thought about always reminded him of his dad. He looked over at the other boys sitting at the table. They were all eating, joking, and laughing with each other. Some of them were laughing at him as he expected.

From watching the other boys, he learned some of them were part of some kind of gang. Not an ordinary gang. This gang was actually encouraged by the staff. It was called The Enforcers and they were always on the lookout for nonbelievers and sinners. They were led by a boy named Craig Thompson. Thompson was a tall, powerfully built 17-year-old with gritty black hair and crooked teeth who looked more like he was thirty. Billy Featherston, a younger boy in the next room from Toby, had told him all about Craig Thompson. Thompson wasn't like the other boys. He had parents who could take care of him. The reason he was here was far different than the other boys. He had barely escaped getting the same sentence as Toby's dad. The story went that Thompson had a best friend named Joey. Joey had been your typical jock. The two played on the high school basketball team together. They were as close as brothers. So close that one night when Joey was spending the night at Thompson's, having been under a lot of pressure between basketball, grades, and regular high school stuff, Joey confided in his friend. The two went for a walk out in the woods to have some privacy and Joey told Craig his darkest secret.