Dominant Species (6 page)

She could feel its breath on her skin. She could smell the rancid stench of it as it sniffed at her face. Slowly it opened its mouth, the rancid smell increasing, making her want to gag as yellow teeth, dripping saliva, were displayed. It….

‘SEN!’ Rodan shouted the command his voice clear and sharp. The half-ling pulled back as if it has been physically struck. Then, with the others, it receded into the shadows, dragging the remnants of its meal behind.

All around the Vampires screamed and laughed, oblivious to the messenger that silently crossed the floor toward Rodan and whispered into his ear. Rodan held up his hand.

‘Silence, Kadir awaits. You…’ He waved at the woman covered in the chicken blood, her face streaked with tears. ‘Go and clean yourself up.’

She didn’t need to be told again as she rushed away to the sound of the heckling vampires. She rushed out of the door, past Kadir and the Mayor, not really seeing either of them. She ran on through the bar, then down the steps, falling down the last four, her mind not thinking clearly. Picking herself up she finally crashed out of the New York Palace, spilling out onto
the steps above the courtyard, ignoring the half-lings that pulled toward her as she half ran, half fell down the steps as she passed them before spilling onto the hard stone of the courtyard. For a second she knelt there, freezing, not knowing which way to turn, yet sobbing with relief at being outside, despite the icy chill of the air that bit into her half naked body. Suddenly a figure appeared at the entrance to the courtyard, on Madison Avenue, beckoning to her. She wiped her eyes, before realizing who it was.

‘Father Matthew’ she shouted in a strangled voice, between short intakes of breath and through teeth that chattered loudly, ‘oh thank God it’s you Father Matthew!’ she
stuttered as she stumbled forward, knocking over an old iron chair.

Father Matthews entered the courtyard meeting her half way and threw his coat around her shoulders.

‘Come with me my child’ he said without looking at the Vampires that stood guard outside the hotel.

Turning, h
e hurried her away in silence, out of the courtyard and across a deserted Madison Avenue, toward St. Patrick’s church that sat impotently across the road to the right. He had to half carry her up the stone steps, through the wooden door and into the sanctuary of the church.

Across the road, back inside the relative warmth of the New York Palace, Rodan watched as the large wooden doors slid open and Kadir entered with Mayor Cooper scurrying before him. Cooper was pushed roughly to the floor where he lay prone, or as prone as someone of his girth could get, with his arms outstretched in a pitiful picture of total servitude. Before him Rodan stood silently.

‘I am in need of some good news Mayor. I hope you are able to deliver it?’

‘Lord Rodan, my men are making progress, but it has become increasingly difficult. You see Overlord Karick also has teams out searching and -’

His words were cut short by Kadir’s foot as it pressed into the Mayor’s back.

Rodan continued, amused by the sight of the overweight Mayor pinned at his feet.

‘We want them found, and we want them found now. Do I make myself clear? If you fail things will get...increasingly difficult for you. Is that understood?’ Rodan moved closer to the Mayor. The Mayor could only see the tips of Rodan’s boots.

‘Now Mayor Cooper, I’ll ask you one more time. Are you going to be able to deliver that which I ask?’

‘Yessss
,’ cried the Mayor, gathering all the breath he could.

‘Much better
…’ Rodan replied with a smile, his voice bright and airy. ‘…very good; now Kadir, would you show our friend out, please?’

Kadir bowed
, then he grabbed the Mayor by his foot and, despite his massive weight, dragged him effortlessly across the floor towards the door, where he grabbed the Mayor by his coat and with his growling voice reverberating around the room lifted him easily to his feet with one hand.

‘You heard the Master. Now go’.

The mayor staggered toward the door, trying to keep his balance on legs that had turned to jelly. Kadir smiled as he watched the man waddle as fast as he could through the bar and out toward the hotel entrance. Then Kadir turned and gave an almost imperceptible nod, Rodan acknowledged him and turned to his guests.

‘Parties over’ is all he said and the vampires quickly drifted away. He glanced over toward Keermit who blew him a kiss, her lips framed by her bright red lipstick.

‘Darling, if you wouldn’t mind?’ he whispered.

Keermit smiled and stood as the other Vampires dissolve silently into the shadows
before disappearing completely. Absently, Rodan watched them leave before he turned to Keermit and spoke again.

‘
Keermit, time is not with us.’

‘My Lord?’ She raised a querying
eyebrow.

‘I think
… yes, I think it is time we contacted your friend.’

Keermit looked a little taken aback
. ‘Zidtool?’ she questioned, with just the hint of a frown on her beautiful face.

An evil smile flashed across Rodan’s face as he nodded
slowly.

‘Yes, my darling, Zidtool.’

Deep beneath the surface in the United Nations Building, now the vampire’s formal seat of power, Overlord Karick crashed through a doorway, slamming the door into the wall; plaster and pieces of ceiling fell like confetti onto the carpet from the impact. Behind him Voltan followed in silence. Karick turned abruptly, anger written large across his face; he paused as he watched his friend and confidant trying to manoeuvre the damaged door back onto its hinges in order that he could shut it.

Karick’s voice has a cultured edge, even when he was angry.

‘Voltan, I... I feel I’m being out manoeuvred by that... that low life, political cunning bastard Rodan, and he’s just laughing at me.’

Voltan, having managed to secure the door to a degree, nodded his agreement.

‘My Lord.’

‘Voltan, can you get Drameer
for me? I think I am in need of his counsel.’

‘At once, my Lord
’ replied Voltan, although Karick noticed there was a tiny hint of disappointment in his voice.

Voltan offered a shallow bow and opened the door, which promptly fell to the ground.

Karick, not missing the humour, hid a smile. ‘And whilst you’re at it, get the door fixed, will you?’

Within the vampire city, on the corner of East Ninety Second Street an old curtain twitched, sending motes of dust into the air. The curtains that hung at the windows were plush but faded. Dull and worn furniture sat around what once would have been a beautiful apartment. Behind the curtains, looking eagerly out on the desolate streets below was a woman’s face, bright and pretty. She scanned the empty streets and, not seeing whatever it was she was looking for, sighed, pulling the curtains together again before retreating to her dressing table. Sitting down she stared at her lonely reflection in the tarnished mirror, considered briefly that perhaps her own image was now a little tarnished by the life she had led, her eyes lingering just for a second on the leather band that was around her neck. She picked up the silver plated brush from the dresser and slowly began to brush her thick hair. Lost in thought, she looked over to the window again, her mind wandering to thoughts past.

Behind the woman, unseen, the door handle
to the chamber turned. A slight pause, then the door swung silently open and a shadowy figure slid like liquid into the room. There was a sudden flicker of movement directly behind her as the figure moved into the shadows in the corner of the room and stood silently watching the woman as she absently brushed her hair, lost in some deep thought, seemingly oblivious to the intrusion.

Then without a sound
the figure emerged from out of the shadows. It was a vampire, tall and imposing with long, sweeping, white hair. A tidily cropped, pure white beard framed his handsome face. He was dressed immaculately in a black suit with mandarin collar and white shirt. He crossed the room, moving silently toward her, edging closer and closer, seemingly unseen. Then, when he was standing right behind her, he slowly bent forward toward her neck. The woman appeared to remain oblivious, staring intently into the mirror as she continued to brush her golden locks.

The vampire, now only inches from her neck… brushed her with the lightest of kisses. Looking deep
into the mirror, Kathryn smiled at his reflection.

‘Drameer, how long have you been watching?’

Drameer’s response, in his soft French accent, brought an even broader smile to her face.

‘For all your life Kathryn…
for all your life.’

Kathryn smiled a coy
smile and then looking round caught the concerned look on his face.

‘Wh
at’s the matter, my darling?’ She could hear more than a hint of concern in her own voice.

‘Overlord Karick wishes to speak with me. He’s called a meeting of the full council. It appears that the resistance have become more of a
nuisance than originally anticipated.’

Drameer regarded himself quickly in the mirror. ‘You know Kathryn; I remember the first time you saw my reflection. You
said…’

‘…
That you couldn’t be a vampire, not a real one, because then you wouldn’t have a reflection,’ she interrupted with a smile.

Now it was Drameer’s turn to smile.

‘You were just a little girl then and totally fearless. Belief is a strange thing, is it not?’

Kathryn turned in her chair, crossed her long shapely legs and looked up into his dark eyes.

‘Father Matthew says that sometimes belief is all we need to make something true.’

Drameer flashed
Kathryn a perfect smile, his incisors pointed and bright.

‘I
’ll try not to be long, my darling,’ then he turned, crossing the floor to leave, however he couldn’t help but throw one quick glance back towards her before he closed the door behind him.

In was once the meatpac
king district of New York City. Now the somewhat surreal, but very much alive, sound of goats and other livestock filled the air. Father Matthew walked hesitantly down the front of the warehouses that overlooked the Piers.

Absently he watched the small boats as they bobbed up and down on the
thick darkness of the Hudson River. Men returning from fishing for anything they could catch, their nets patched and broken. Dead fish floated on the surface of the water, the stench was terrible, but the fishermen seemed not to notice. Father Matthew pulled his scarf over his face to try and smother the smell. His stomach was turning knots. He hated it here; almost as much as he hated the people that he had come to see.

He crossed to the nearest warehouse. Trying to project as much confidence as possible
, he nodded to the large Vampire guard who stood, not quite out of the way of the doorway, forcing Father Matthew to squeeze through the remaining gap uncomfortably close to the creature, which just looked down at him and smiled, showing two large incisors with a deliberate and obvious relish.

Once inside the warehouse it took Father Matthew a few seconds for his eyes to become accustomed to the gloom. Although he had been here many times
before it always remained a horrible and unpleasant experience for him. Inside there was some significant activity, with a large number of people moving about in all directions, seemingly very busy. Some collected boxes, whilst others cleaned the floors, or in reality moved dirt from one place to another. But whatever they were doing they all moved with the same mechanical movements, the same air of defeat and the same seemingly long dead look in their eyes.

To one side,
at the far end of the warehouse, a line of men in grubby white coats grabbed rubber tubes and other paraphernalia from a stack of plastic boxes, in front of them people lay on old dirty tables. Others sat, or lay on the floor; all had tubes snaking from their arms with the dark flow of blood running through the tubes. Behind them queues of people with eyes glazed slowly shuffled towards the tables, waiting their turn. All in all Father Matthews guessed there was probably over seventy people here, yet on each side of the long line were just two Vampires; all that was needed to maintain control. As people completed their task, they clambered off the table and staggered weakly towards a cluster of rickety chairs where two nurses in dirty off-white uniforms were handing out small glasses of water.

Father Matthew gagged
at the stench, closed his eyes and crossed himself without thinking. Pulling a handkerchief to his face and breathing through his mouth he marched quickly to the small office at the back of the warehouse, trying to ignore the pleading eyes that followed him, begging for his help.

The office was nothing more than a prefab oblong hut situated in the corner of the warehouse. It had a single door and two long windows, both opaque with dirt. A large vampire stepped aside and watched the Father closely as opened the door. Inside the small office, which was oppressive and hot, sat Josiah.

The windows were caked in muck. A thirty-year-old calendar showing Miss June, but little else, hung on the wall. Dull grey filing cabinets lined the back wall. The
office was almost pitch-black at the far end, full of dark and endless shadows. Behind the desk, uncomfortably large for the depth of the office, Josiah glanced up, as Father Matthew entered, quickly closing the door behind him.

Josiah sneered, ‘Father Matthew
, how nice to see you again, and so soon.’

‘Well Josiah, I did say I’d ehm... well, following our meeting
, I’ve spoken to a ehm...a number of your workers and I have received some ehm... more complaints.’

Josiah stopped writi
ng and spoke without looking up, ‘Complaints… from whom and about what?’

‘Well I’m not at liberty to…’-

‘No you’re not’ growled Josiah. He sat back in the old battered, leather chair with the foam pushing through the slit on the back, his thick arms folded behind his baldhead. ‘Look Father, the food factory is here to stay. Unless that is you would prefer us to go back to the, shall we say, more traditional ways?’

He smiled
at the Priest’s reaction and his obvious disgust. Father Matthew stared at the uneven yellowing teeth.

‘Well?’ repeated Josiah. There was no response. ‘I thought not’ he finished, the smile turning
back into a sneer. Then he shook his head, ‘Father, look, everyone is on edge. They say the resistance have started freeing people now, as well as stealing food, and that’s really pissed off the vampires, ‘cos they don’t like their property going walk about. Understand? Frankly it’s not a good time to be making waves, if you get my drift?’

Father Matthew tried again.
‘I understand, but could I tell people here that you are at least considering... well... making things more comfortable for them?’

‘Yeah, yeah whatever, knock yourself out, your comments have been duly noted Father, now get lost
.’

Father Matthew stood in the uncomfortable silence
that followed as Josiah returned to his paperwork as if he wasn’t standing there at all. Realising that the meeting was clearly and abruptly over, he turned, muttered some half-hearted farewell and left. As the door clicked shut behind him a vampire, completely unseen before appeared from the darkest corner. A visible shiver shook Josiah, despite himself.

‘Jeez, Zidtool, you give me the creeps. So what’s the interest in the Father?’

Zidtool smiled a lopsided grin emphasizing the long scar that ran from the corner of his eye to his edge of his lip. His dark hair fell over one eye, which did nothing to diminish the intensity of his stare. A stare that hovered on the edge of sanity and seemed to bore deep into Josiah tainted soul. Although slight of build he still managed to exude an absolute, feral authority. His eyes flicked down to the thin silver throwing-knife that span expertly between his long, elegant fingers. Then, as he picked up the pace, and the knife blurred between his fingers, he simply looked back at Josiah and shrugged.

B
ack beneath the United Nations Building Karick sat in a large leather chair, behind a heavy wooden desk, like some uncomfortable C.E.O. An unimpressed Voltan stood by his side. They were both staring at Mayor Cooper who knelt in front of them, trembling and staring purposefully at the dirty and threadbare carpet.

Voltan was the first to speak
, stating the obvious. ‘You have kept Overlord Karick waiting.’

Mayor Cooper’s reply was almost lost in the large room with the high ceilings,
‘Master, my apologies, I was…’ he looked up at Karick his face red, large beads of sweat slid down his forehead ‘…delayed sire,’ he finished weakly.

‘And pray, Mayor Cooper,’ whispered Karick with an icy calm, ‘
what was so important to cause this delay?’

‘The food factory Sire ...a small emergency, but I came as soon as I could.’

Karick stared at the figure before him as if trying to gage whether he was telling the truth or not. He stood and glided around the desk, his shadow engulfed the Mayor who was now visibly shaking with abject fear.

Taking his time
Karick sat on the edge of his desk, leaving Cooper, who was not able to meet his gaze, starring at the soles of his boots. Karick watched as a bead of sweat dripped from the Mayor’s wide forehead and hit the floor. Cooper swallowed hard.

‘I have called a full Council
meeting, Mayor Cooper. There is some unrest in the City. It appears that, in addition to food supplies, humans have begun to disappear as well. I’d like you to attend with the other community leaders so that you may provide a full update on the situation with the resistance.’

‘Of course my Lord, anything else?’

Karick sighed, ‘…only that if you’re ever late again, it will be for the very last time. Understood?’

Cooper nodded violently, his multiple chins wobbling.

At the abandoned graveyard in Brooklyn there was a hive of activity as men were busy making preparations for their meeting with one of the other groups of survivors. There was a nervous atmosphere as they checked their weapons. Above them watching all the time in silence from the high walls were the scores of watchmen that usually remained invisible. On one side Nathan and Trent stood together having a hushed discussion. Max crossed the open ground between them chewing his unlit cigar, a pump action shotgun held loosely in one hand.

Nathan looked up as Max approached.

‘Are your men ready?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, it’s all set’.

Nathan nodded, turned back to Trent. Max glanced across at the others and noticed that Jake had turned up. Taking the unlit cigar from his mouth, his eyes narrowed and he sidled across the street.

‘You joining us then?’ he growled as he reached
his older brother.

‘Not this time’ r
eplied Jake.

Max grunted as Jake turned his back to continue his conversation with a thin dark haired man who was moving his long greasy hair from out of his eyes. Jake paused, realising that his brother was still
staring at him. He turned his head, raised an eyebrow.

‘Is there a problem, Max?’ he asked quietly.

Max changed his grip on the shotgun, his eyes narrowing and shook his head slowly,’ only problem is having a coward for a brother.’

Jake
tensed; the dark haired man looked between the two men and quickly backed away, muttering something about needing to check something before they left.  Jake turned to face his brother.

‘Yeah?’ Max hissed as they stood toe to toe,
tense, their eyes locked on one and other.

Jake took a breath, broke eye contact first. Max shook his head, and then strode off past his brother,
shouldering him into the wall as he did. Jake didn’t react as he watched Max walk away. Then Max turned and looked back at Jake, his teeth gritted.

‘Just like I said,’ he muttered with a sneer
and then, not watching where he was going, he had to suddenly stop abruptly as he nearly walked into a scowling Megan. By the expression on her face it was obvious that she’d heard everything. Max glared at her, struggling with whether he should try and justify his actions or not, in the end he just shrugged,

‘
What?’ he muttered.

He hesitated
a second longer, as she just stood in his way with one eyebrow raised, then, feeling like a schoolboy that had been chastened by the teacher he shouldered his shotgun and without another glance behind him made off into the darkness.

Behind him a voice like gravel cut through the night air freezing him to the spot.

‘Max.’

Max
stood where he was. He closed his eyes as he tried to regain some composure.

‘You know
what Max,’ growled Trent when he reached him, ‘when we rescued the two of you all those years ago you worshipped him. What the hell happened?’

‘Things changed
…,’ was all that Max could say. He couldn’t or wouldn’t meet Trent’s gaze, instead choosing to stare someway off into the distance, doing everything to avoid the cold, blue eyes that he knew were boring into the side of his head. This seemed to amuse the old man.

‘
…People change when they learn the truth,’ Max continued through gritted teeth.

Trent considered this for a second, a thin smile drifting across his
weathered face.

‘Some do, son, some do
.’

Before Max could
make a reply, Trent turned and walked away, behind him Max, anger now welling inside him, could do nothing more than watch him limp away after Jake.

The door to Jake’s house burst open and a furious Jake kicked a hole in the wall of the run down hall, screaming out loud, still angry he crashed into the single room he occupied, grabbed a steel jug and threw it across the floor. He punched the wooden cupboard on the wall smashing a large hole in the door. Finally drawing breath he slumped on his bed.

‘Feel better now?’

Jake span as he jerked to his feet, hands balled into fists, then, realising it was Trent, he relaxed.

‘I don’t know why you put up with it.’ Trent continued. Jake
just looked at him.

‘Doesn’t the Lord tell us to turn the other cheek?’
he replied sarcastically.

Trent
just frowned, ‘And is that what you believe? Is that why you wear that cross? He inclined his head towards Jake’s silver cross that currently hung from its chain outside of Jake’s coat, ‘So that you can crucify yourself on it, one day at a time?’

Jake
felt like he’d been slapped hard; his mouth opened then closed, his mind trying desperately to think of some clever retort. None came. Sitting back on his bed, his shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes.

‘You know
,’ continued Trent, ‘I was just saying to Max, when we found you both, he worshipped you, looked up to you…’