Blood of Gold (6 page)

“Happening all over town,” Stockman said. “I was having plumbing problems, myself. You haven’t seen a plumbing truck around anywhere, have you? The guy went out for a part and said he’d be right back.”

“What was the name?”

“Parker Plumbing.”

So that’s how the girls got away,
Kelton thought.
Good to know. Meanwhile, I need to get out of the sun.
“Hey, can I use your phone?” he asked. “I should at least be on record for calling this in. Though I doubt anyone will show up.”

“Phone wasn’t working, last time I checked,” Stockman said doubtfully.

“Let’s check again.” Kelton grabbed him by the arm and guided him down the sidewalk, walking so fast that the little man had to break into a trot to keep up. They made it through the door just as sunlight washed over the front lawn. Kelton felt the back of his neck start to flare, and then they were inside the dark, cool house.

Stockman’s equally chubby wife and his two chubby kids were in the kitchen, and their eyes grew big when they saw Kelton looming in the doorway. Kelton put on his best smile. Years ago, by accident, he’d stumbled upon a big artificial grin that seemed to work with people, though he didn’t know why, and he could turn it on any time. As long as people didn’t look him in the eye and see the perfectly blank coldness there, he was pretty convincing. He was always careful to be looking at something else when he turned on the charm.

The house was the perfect place to hide out until nightfall. And it came with the added bonus of some chubby snacks.

#

The Stockman house had a full pantry. Kelton had never seen a fridge and pantry so full of sauces and spices. He poured some hot mustard over Stockman’s leg and tried that, then threw the bone over his shoulder, where it landed with a clank against the other bones. Nothing tasted better than raw meat, but he felt an obligation to try all the seasonings. He didn’t want them to go to waste.

The table seemed to turn on its side, and he gripped the edge to steady himself. He recognized the vertiginous feeling as the same one he’d had in the old lady’s house, when he’d been Turned. He closed his eyes and then opened them again, hoping the dizziness would go away. The house had suddenly grown cold. No, hot. No, both. It was a temperature that wasn’t comfortable, that’s all Kelton knew.

Then he realized that there was someone behind him. He spun around, knife in hand, ready to rush whoever had come into the room.

There was a strange blackness filling the corner of the kitchen.

The intruder was in the shadows, which should have meant that Kelton could see him clearly, since his night vision was now better than his day vision. But the shadows cut off the corner of the room as if it wasn’t there; as if
nothing
was there. Kelton could hear the man, but couldn’t see him.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

Your Maker.
Again, the words came directly into his mind, the inner voice flat, not so high that it could be called high, not so low that it could be called low. It couldn’t be called anything––it existed somewhere in the middle of sound, consisting of tones that had never been heard before. Kelton didn’t think anything could scare him, especially in his new form, but this made him shiver and made his heart skip a beat.

“Why are you here?”

I am your Maker
, the voice from the void said again.
I have chosen you.
The voice entered Kelton’s bones and churned their marrow.

Kelton believed him… it… whatever the creature was. Should he thank him? “What… what do you want?”

I want to help you to fulfill your desires. I want you to never stop. Nothing can stop you.

“The sun…”

After tonight, the sun will no longer bother you. My Darkness cannot feel the light.

The shadows moved toward him, and Kelton caught a glimpse of something whipping out, reaching for him. Something heavy landed on him, something heavier than the world, and yet he stood unbowed. He felt a sharp pain in his throat, but this time the creature didn’t drain him; instead, it seemed to be pumping something into him, some of the cold and the darkness, and it felt familiar, like all the hate he’d ever felt, distilled and flowing eternally through his veins. Over and under the sensation, he heard the creature speaking into his mind.

I have chosen you, as I have chosen your forebears for long millennia. I have chosen only the vampires with the strongest desire to kill and to consume. I have selected only those who understand that they are not humans Turned vampire, but something completely different, superior in every way to their fleshly origins. You are the culmination of a long line of Darkness.

The shadow man was gone when Kelton woke up, but the cold and dark remained inside of him, as if he was now part of the shadow.

Chapter 6

The Testament of Michael
just appeared one day, seemingly everywhere at once. The message spread through every social network and was mentioned on the major networks’ evening news broadcasts. It was talked about in the newspaper gossip columns and magazines. It may have been reported mostly with a wink and a smirk, but there were plenty of believers.

The devastation of Crescent City was originally attributed to an unknown pathogen and the ensuing rioting to mass hysteria, but enough visual verification existed from video and cellphone recordings that infiltrated the Internet that the government was having a hard time explaining it all away. Then there was the eyewitness testimony, some of which was actually credible. The amount of evidence seemed too overwhelming for all of it to have been manufactured.

Someone had found a cellphone on the street. The video footage on it showed a man running toward the camera faster than seemed humanly possible. As his face became clearer, you could see the fangs already covered in blood, the look of hunger in the creature’s eyes. There was something so believable about it that a screen grab from the footage––the last frame before it went dark––had become the signature image of the event. Sure, it could’ve been faked, but most people instinctively understood that this was what some poor soul had seen in his or her last moments.

It was so evident that something unusual had happened that conspiracy theorists were taking the opposite tack than usual: that is, that so much evidence of vampires existing meant it must be fake, which, ironically, gave the stories more credibility than ever. Surveys showed that in addition to the usual twenty percent of the populace who will believe anything, another twenty percent thought vampires “likely,” and more than half thought them “possible.”

Books about vampires shot to the top of the best-seller lists, and shows about vampires filled movie theaters and started a heavier-than-usual rotation on TV. Old movies and TV shows were resurrected and given new life, much like the vampires themselves.

Coming on the heels of the news stories out of Crescent City,
The Testament of Michael
arrived as a validation of the reality of vampires.

#

“Listen to this.” Sylvie was reading aloud from her laptop. They were back home in Bend. Jamie, Sylvie and Terrill were sitting at the kitchen table, and early-morning sunlight was streaming through the windows. Terrill had almost winced when Sylvie had pulled back the curtains to flood the room with light. It was hard to get used to the fact that he and the other vampires with blood of gold could survive in the full light of day. Old habits died hard.

“‘From Michael came Terrill, who defied Satan and refused to feed on the souls of the innocent. Terrill, who went to his doom without complaint, who became Human because of his love of Mankind. Terrill, who sacrificed himself yet again that he might fight the new threat of the Wilderings.

“‘He was the first of the Blood of Gold. From him came a new race of beings, neither human nor vampire, but the best of both… ’”

“Jesus,” Terrill breathed.

“No, not Jesus. I think he’s calling you Terrill,” Jamie said, laughing. There was something in her eyes as she looked at him, though, that made it seem as if she was half serious.

“And you’re telling me the author, this
Marc
, is someone you know?” Terrill asked.

“If it is who I think it is, he’s a young man who helped me. He was a nice guy. I called him ‘Marc-with-a-c.’”

“But how does Marc know all this stuff?” Terrill exclaimed. “Where’s he getting it from?”

“God told him, obviously,” Jamie snorted.

“Who’s next? Matthew, Luke and John?”

“Hell if I know,” Jamie admitted. “To tell you the truth, he’s pretty convincing. I feel like I should fall to my knees before you, Master.”

“Oh, shut up,” Terrill muttered.

In all his long existence, he had never been as happy and content as he’d been since he and Sylvie had returned home from the disaster in Crescent City.

Humans seemed to believe that everyone had a soul mate in life, if they could but find them, but Terrill had lived many lifetimes, and he had never felt like this.

Sylvie was young, incredibly young compared to him, but she was wiser than he was. Her emotional response to the events and people around her was always kind and thoughtful and seemingly right. It was a knack he’d never learned.

Now, as he watched her read the newspaper aloud, she seemed so alive, but so vulnerable. Several times during the Battle of Crescent City, he’d seen a Wildering target her, as if knowing how important and how defenseless she was. He hadn’t told her how many times she had almost been killed.

It worried him. She was a human, frail and weak, and she was the lover of the vampire who was perhaps the most hunted of all vampires. And who now, apparently, had founded a new type of vampire and maybe a new religion.

She’d be safer if she was Turned. Terrill had no doubt that Sylvie was ready for the golden blood, but he also sensed that she would reject the offer. She was too alive as a human, and it was by observing her grace and beauty that he continued to appreciate the differences between humans and vampires.

Jamie and Robert had rented the house next door, and Clarkson had found an apartment down the street. They were lying low. So far, the only people who knew who they were and where they were hiding were managing to keep their mouths shut.

Terrill wasn’t worried about Father Harry or his good friends Grime, Perry and Billy, but the word was out in the homeless community they were part of, and it was only a matter of time before someone decided there might be money in the story. Terrill wasn’t even sure he would blame whoever sold them out.

“We have to go into hiding,” he said.

“I thought that’s what we were doing,” Sylvie said.

“We’re hiding in plain sight. That won’t be adequate for much longer. We have to go somewhere no one knows us.”

“Jamie and I have some land,” Sylvie ventured. “Up in the Strawberry Mountains, near John Day. Dad used to go hunting up there. I think I can find the keys to the trailer, but I don’t know if I can remember how to get there. Jamie?”

Jamie had come over for breakfast: a side of raw bacon. Robert was sleeping in, still recovering from his ordeal. She nodded at her sister. “I think I can find my way there. If not, I know the people who live at the base of the mountain. I’m sure they’ll give us directions.”

“Then let’s pack up and go,” Terrill said, standing up as if ready to leave that minute.

“Do you think it’s a good idea to be out of communication range?” Sylvie said, not stirring from the table. “If anyplace is outside a coverage area these days, it’s the Strawberry Mountains.”

Terrill sat down again. He hadn’t thought of that.

Sylvie was already getting busy on her laptop. “Apparently, there’s a Wi-Fi network covering Eastern Oregon that’s owned by some millionaire,” she said after a few minutes of searching. “There wasn’t enough money for the big companies to invest in it, so he put his own five million dollars into the project and… get this… he offers it free to anyone in the area. I think we’ll be all right.”

“Jamie? Get Robert ready,” Terrill said. “I’ll go track down Clarkson. I think until all this blows over, we’d best stay out of sight. With any luck, this
Testament of Michael
will fade away and everyone will forget all about vampires.”

Jamie nodded, but Terrill could see she didn’t believe that would happen. To be honest, neither did he.
The
Testament of Michael
had a strange pull on him, as if it was being directed at him, as if it was trying to tell him what to do.

As if Michael was speaking to him personally from beyond the grave.

Sylvie had woken up that morning with a fever. She was hacking and coughing and blowing her nose every few minutes. Terrill realized that he hadn’t been around anyone with one of humanity’s little diseases for a very long time. It was annoying.

“You know, if I Turned you, you’d never get sick again,” he told her. “Then I wouldn’t have to follow you around throwing away used Kleenexes.”

She looked at him with a frown, then saw that he was teasing. “So all I have to do to avoid a cold is become undead? Pretty high price to pay, wouldn’t you say? Thanks, but no thanks.”

Terrill laughed. He watched her walk over to him, her body so fluid, so full of grace. When she plopped herself down in his lap, his heart seemed to melt into the rest of his body.

She sneezed in his ear.

“I’m serious,” he said, frowning. “You are so vulnerable to everything: bugs, accidents, anything at all. If you Turned, you’d be safe from those things.”

“No, thank you.”

“Why not?”

Her face was against his shoulder, but he could tell she was seriously considering the question. “Because… it isn’t natural.”

“It is completely natural. According to Michael, it is just evolution.”

“No, it’s not the natural order of things. I don’t think it is something that someone chooses. It happens to you, but you don’t go seeking it. You remain what you are until you aren’t. I know that doesn’t make much sense, but that’s how I feel, Terrill. I’m human and should remain so.”