The Vampire Touch 1: The Forsaken Page 2

  “What the…” Jonah begins running off. His sweatpants ruffle as again the guns begin firing. None of them do any true damage. Beestings.

  “You sure you don’t need a hand, kiddo?”

  “Not another one.”

  My thoughts are already divided between where Jonah has run off to and these guards. I don’t need the distractions of another consciousness screaming for attention.

  “How about you let me come to play, huh big brother?”

  I can see him off behind the haze of bullets. There he stands, mocking me behind the solitude of Jonah’s guards.

  “No,” The mass of blood formed beneath me accepts the bullets and spits them out. Reloading, one calls, and I use the opportunity to fling my arm up. The grotesque display of sinew and bone fragments pulling the arm to where it needs to be. I consider this a moment. It may just be me. Pulling myself up from the ashes like the Phoenix. I like that thought. I begin firing. The impact tears flesh and bone from the unholy beings.

  Maybe Ankh did have a piece of the Grail after all.

  One by one they drop. Seven in total, leaving only a few of the rebels left. The arm drops. I realize only then that I am alone now. The one that spoke to me retreated before the shooting began. The bullets have stopped.

  “You stopped shooting?” I ask, rising from the ground, the mass of blood slowly working its way up my body, replenishing any harmed limbs, “You may have stood a chance, had you continued.”

  Before the mass even makes it to my second arm, I am upon the three remaining guards. My teeth tear through their throats like tissue paper. Their blood is bitter. They have not fed in days.

  Just another prerequisite of living under a mad man.

  ~ ~ ~

  I stalk my prey to his hideout. A room concealed from the rest, hidden behind a painting of himself. Vanity has always been Jonah's biggest weakness.

  “You know I’ve got a thousand other guards out there waiting for you, right?” he calls from behind a metal door.

  “Silence, Jonah. Your time has come,” I say, falling back into his armchair. His office is beautiful. The desk is made of oak, the chair is made of the finest leather, and whatever is beneath the covering is just as wonderful to sit on. Bookcases adorn the walls, and it’s all brought together by a perfect, simple Persian rug.

  I never knew he had such good taste.

  “Just come out and face your punishment.”

  I’m not hopeful that he will listen, but he knows that if I have to chase him, it will be worse for him.

  “What? Another ten years in the cave?” he asks, and I scoff.

  “Sure. The same sentence as usual,” I drape one leg lazily over the other and grab a book from the side table. Homer’s Odyssey. Beneath the weighty tome, his true favored literature; Playboy.

  I open the book between my fingers and read.

  It takes a few minutes for Jonah to realize the depth of his circumstances, but when he does….

  "Okay. Okay. I'm coming out," he cries, and the vault door various gears and mechanisms twist and turn until it swings open. Merely a crack, but is quickly opened fully, exposing a small room. One single, white table and chair set in the center. Upon it, his pistol.

  “Your bullets stung,” I gesture that he take the seat beside me.

  “Can I pour you a drink?”

  I decline. “What are they made of?” I carry on my own conversation.

  "I had this idea to try to throw a cross into the casing. Thought it might keep you down," he chuckled as if we were old time friends.

  “It’s not a new idea,” I lift my own Walther PPK, exposing a singular bullet that lodged in the weapon, “I’ve been doing it for years.”

  “What?” He seems shocked.

  “Yes. These even hold a touch of the Holy Grail,” I have no reason for making him look at my gun, but still I don’t move it.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  I pull the trigger. The bullet lodged in the side makes the slide move back only an inch. It snaps off the barrel, and my gun lies in tatters across my lap.

  “You truly do not need to,” I slide my hand into my breast pocket and retrieve the second, pointing it at Jonah, “Jonah Marx. You have been sentenced to death by the High King–”

  “What about the Cou–”

  He cuts me off and I, in return, do the same, "The sentence will carry out immediately. The King has allowed you one final say before you are terminated."

  I rise from my chair. Jonah drops to his knees, begging and pleading at the start, but then he gives up on that notion, "You tell your king I know things. You tell him now. I can be of assistance. Trust me."

  “I will deliver your final words to the King. He will pass them down the line to whoever may be waiting. Goodbye, Jonah.”

  I pull the trigger, and it is done.

  Chapter 4

  Daffyd.

  “Tell me then, Mason, how did the mission go?” I always feel uneasy when standing next to the towering ancient.

  “Fine. Jonah sends his regards,” he replies, the twisted comment making me even more nervous.

  “Did he say anything about the girl?”

  “No.”

  “Then what were his last words before you did it?” I’m getting angry, but I know to be hesitant with this one. He’s a loose cannon. The only one of our kind from my understanding.

  “He said, ‘you tell your king I know things. You tell him now. I can be of assistance. Trust me.’”

  If I wasn't angry before, this pushes me over the edge, "And you didn't think to ask him what he meant?" I speak in hushed anger as not ten paces before me sit the Forsaken party leader, Zeus.

  “The dossier was very clear. If there was no mention of the girl, he must be executed.”

  The calm nature in which he speaks….

  "You don't know what you've done. We could have used him," Zeus waves at me, and I return the favor. He laughs. I think he was waving me over. My thoughts are not on this feast.

  “What’s so special about the girl?” he asks. The question is unexpected, and I’m not sure how to answer in terms that would not displease him.

  “Nothing, Mason. Just leave it.”

  As the last words leave my mouth Zeus rises from his seat opposite me, “Can we have silence?” Silence all around.

  No one orders my vampires but me.

  “Yes. Settle down,” I stand from my own seat. Everything is already quiet as I stand. I should not have done this. Shame floods through me, and I feel my cheeks go rosy.

  “Let Zeus speak,” Mason says from below.

  “Rather go,” I wave him off and he does as told. Not because I told him to, I assume.

  “So, what have you to say, Daffyd? Why did you call this meeting?” Zeus’s voice is powerful. It echoes through my hall. I look him directly in the eye. It was unsettling.

  “We need to discuss feeding habits.”

  “What do you mean? We do not interfere with the vampires’ feeding grounds,” The quizzical look on his face was unexpected.

  "You do, though. You go about slaughtering thousands upon thousands for your own feeding habits and then what? You still play with the humans on the sidelines. Tragedies that none need to face, disasters, which always affect any kind, and so on."

  Mason comes up behind me again, “Perhaps you should take it easy, King. You do….”

  “Silence. You are not part of my court, you have no say in how I conduct business,” I roar over my shoulder.

  “Then so be it.”

  He’s gone. That was definitely not the right choice of words, but I will not be told in my own home how to conduct my business. Not from a non-affiliated vampire. A causeless….

  Rebel.

  "You should listen to your friend," Zeus sits back down, bringing a goblet to his mouth and sipping his wine, "Let's just be peaceful."

  I slam my fists into the table, the wood splinters beneath them, “You will listen to what I have to say
, Zeus.”

  “You’re throwing a temper tantrum, boy.”

  Zeus grows more comfortable in his seat, finishing the contents of his glass before throwing it on the table. They all lack respect. All of them.

  “I was appointed King of the vampires. I am to deal with these issues under the trust of the Council.”

  "And what then, if we do not listen? You going to run to your Council with your tail between your legs?" Zeus pulls from his pocket a small sack, the contents: a pipe, and tobacco, "You forget, we do not just deal with your kind. We keep the darkness away."

  “And you forget, we thrive in the dark.”

  He lights his pipe.

  “I set this up in terms you’d enjoy and understand. I refurnished my home for you. I worked on making this place a place of harmony for our kinds, and you spit on it.”

  “What are you talking about?” Zeus looks around the room, “A few decorations of what you thought our people lived like two thousand years ago?” The hall erupts in laughter, “You know nothing. Have your say then. Let’s be done with this,” He takes a deep drag on his pipe and blows the smoke out. He contorts his mouth in a certain fashion and from him comes an old Viking rowboat. His magic at work.

  I jump over the table and walk over to the Forsaken's half of the hall. Besides Zeus sits Thor to his right. His left has Hermes. Down the line, there are twenty or so more gods and demi-gods. The moment I get to the table, Thor rises from his seat, and as he begins sounding out whatever he wanted to say, Zeus pushes him back down, "Sit, son."

  “You must realize that this is our food source. You end up killing hundreds of thousands for food and then hundreds of thousands for sport.”

  I break for a second to give him a chance to reply, but there is none.

  “But where’s the sport in shooting fish in a barrel?”

  "Fish in a barrel?" he asks, "You want to talk about fish in a barrel?" He laughs, "Did you think that would be the breaking point? Because you make some silly analogy I'm going to lose control? You forget I've been in this game longer than you've been alive. A wolf does not concern himself with the opinion of sheep."

  Zeus turns to Mason who’s standing near Brooke. He’s hunched over, talking to her. Why is he talking to her?

  “Come, ancient. Rein in the sheep.”

  The vampires are all on edge now. The Forsaken are just biding their time.

  “Your highness.”

  Mason speaks to a Forsaken with respect? I can’t believe he will betray his own kind for them, “The King does not know of what he speaks. The mistake the council made is not with him, but instead not consulting my kind.”

  “You think you’re above me?”

  “I do not.”

  For a moment, I feel better.

  “I know I’m above you.”

  My rage is untethered now, “This is how you treat us? Your own kin,”

  Mason laughs. “You are not my kin. That is where you are mistaken. I am different than you on so many levels, Daffyd. We share the title vampire but only in name.”

  “And so the infighting begins,” Hercules chips in, he and Mason chuckle together.

  I walk back over to my kind. “Then leave. All of you,” I try and compose myself. There is no hope in this cause, if even our elders will not stand by us.

  "So be it," Zeus raises one hand, and a beautiful, golden staff materializes in one hand. He slams it against the floor, and, for a moment, the ground beneath our feet begins to crack and rumble in glorious light. A small tear ripples from the center of space between our tables. The tear grows until, from within, the Forsaken's realm can be seen. One-by-one they shuffle out from the hall, through the portal, to Mount Olympus or wherever they end up going.

  “What have you done?” Brooke finally speaks.

  “You have no place to speak. Cavorting with his kind.”

  Mason says nothing, but the smug grin on his face speaks a thousand words.

  “There are no hard feelings, Daffyd. You pay well. If you need me, I will be around.”

  And, as if he was never there, Mason is gone. Vanished into nothingness.

  “Burn it all. Tear it down. None of this must remain,” I flail my arms wildly in the direction of everything around me. I want it all gone.

  The Forsaken have made a powerful enemy today. They just don’t know it yet.

  Chapter 5

  Ankh.

  “You were supposed to come see me before Friday,” I am angry. Furious even.

  "Yes, but I did not have the chance."

  Mason sits back in his seat, sipping a glass filled with red liquid. I pretend it’s wine, but I know it’s blood.

  “What do you mean? You had days.”

  “I had other business to attend to.”

  I cannot face him. If I do, I know those beautiful, red orbs will distract me. I keep my gaze on my work.

  “What is it you’re busy with there?” he asks me.

  My desk is littered with parts of various artifacts: blades, scepters, goblets. My workroom generally has these kinds of tools strewn about the walls and floor. Mason has struck a deal with the King, it seems. Every job he does, depending on its severity, the artifacts pour in.

  “I think it’s time I dedicate one of these puppies to myself.”

  “You are a Forsaken, after all,” he muses, “Your kind thrive on the flashiest, little toys.”

  He’s teasing me. I don’t get angry. A deep sigh rolls through me. “What happened at the meeting?”

  “Daffyd wanted some information, and he did not get it. He threw his fit after I told him this. He lashed out at Zeus, and, well, that’s the end of it,” His nonchalant attitude towards it all doesn’t strike me as odd. He has no ties to either faction. Why should he care what happens?

  “So, what’s going to happen next? The King’s cut ties with you, has he not?”

  “He throws his fits once every few years. He will be back in a couple weeks. He needs me more than I need him.”

  I spin around in my office chair to face Mason, and, as I do, those piercing eyes strike me. I have no reason to truly be angry at him, but I have to stay strong.

  “There’s no way out of this for us, Mason. Our nations are at war.”

  “No. Your nations are at war. I have no qualms with the vampires nor the forsaken,” Again, he sips from his glass, placing it on the counter. His right leg is draped over the left. His arms are lazily adorning the arm rests. His head is cocked to the left with a wicked smile gracing his face.

  How can one not be infatuated?

  “Anyway, what troubles do the gods have with the meddlesome earthlings anyway?”

  “We are directly related to them. You know this, Mason. We may have aided in creation, but humanity keeps us alive.”

  “What are you on about?”

  “I sometimes forget your memories are fragmented,” I chuckle. “Well, you should probably stop forgetting. When was the last time you even saw the gods?”

  He crinkles a brow.

  “What you must remember is that humanity created us in a different way than how we created you. When humanity truly forgets about a god, he falls into the darkness. When the darkness consumes him, there is no longer hope for him. You don’t realize how many of us have fallen,” I can’t help but sigh again, “The Forsaken, as you like calling us, keep the darkness away to prevent any further disruptions. The world would not be able to face what is in store.”

  “And yet, no one knows your name, Ankh.”

  “But I’m a demi-god, created after the fact. Like your sirelings. We’re not the same as the old gods.”

  “Relax. I know. I’m playing with you,” he stands from his seat. His dress shirt was unbuttoned exposing his parts of his chest. Cuts and scrapes, across his body, show the battle scars of his old life.

  "What's up?" I ask as he makes his way to the door.

  “I think I should get going. Home beckons.”

  I stand to follow him. “A
lright. Anything else you need me to do?”

  He looks down at me over his shoulder and stops. He turns to face me and tousles my hair,

  “No. Take it easy.”

  Then he is gone.

  Chapter 6

  Daffyd.

  Sarah-Lynn runs from my chambers as fast as her legs allow, hearing the queen's arrival.

  From my bed, there are multiple directions for her escape. Behind my bookcase, there is a hallway that leads out into the grand hall, I watch as she runs a moment longer. There is nothing more exciting than a young girl, afraid, naked…. The rest of the tunnels are more private. Each one leads somewhere throughout my elaborate home, each one has its purpose for the citizens, who stay with me in this temple. There is a time and place for everything.

  Brooke comes through the door, opening her mouth to say something, but ends up with squinted, angry eyes, “What are you doing, Daffyd?”

  Perhaps it looks a tad strange. I’m sitting naked on the bed, still showing signs of my encounter with Sarah-Lynn, “Exactly what it looks like.”

  “Cover yourself up.”

  She turns her gaze away, while I pull a pair of pants on.

  “What can I help you with, love of my life?” I think she can sense the sarcasm in the last words of the sentence.

  “We have found the girl.”

  Her blasé attitude to finding the girl is unpleasing, but there is only one goal on my mind now.

  “How do you know?” I near scream in elation.

  “Aliana came through. She’s in the throne room waiting for you. Should I tell her you need a minute?” She gestures below my waist, and I shake my head in disapproval.

  “Very funny. Get her whatever she needs. I believe that we are in business….”

  ~ ~ ~

  I step into the throne room only dressed in my pants, a sweating body from the acts, and a coat in my hand that I discard over the throne's armrest.

  “So, I hear you’ve found her?”