Empire of Blood (Book 2): Fading In Darkness (18 page)

Before George could respond the door closed and he was alone in the room.

Chapter 25

Bellona
,
The
Goddess of War

Bellona
watched with crimson reptilian eyes as Joseph lay sleeping, his chest rising and falling with each steady involuntary breath. She often wondered throughout the centuries what it was about him that held such power over her.  He was a man, but he was not.
A man who could not die.
She caressed the firm naked skin of his right pectoral muscle. Most of all, Joseph was what she wanted more than anything. The one thing she couldn't truly have, control, lord over like she could her many vampire children.

The room started to vibrate with her anger. She fought the urge to pierce her jagged black claws into Joseph's flesh. She took a long moment focusing on the pores of his skin and where the follicles of hair sprouted from them. At such a magnification, these things looked so little like the elements of a living thing that she lost that sense of identity of what she was looking at. And finally she calmed some.

She removed her hand from Joseph's chest. Tiny rivulets of blood welled up from where her claws had started to make their entrance before she had gotten control of herself. A moment later the blood dried and the wounds were gone.

Joseph's eyes opened and locked onto
Bellona's
. "Should I fear you may rip out the still-beating heart from my chest if I so much as drift asleep?"

Bellona
growled with playful laughter. "Why would I want to do such a thing? It's your still-beating heart that enthralls me the most about you. What wonder do you hold within such a heart? What flavor? And what power? Yet, like the delicate petals of the white orchid, such power only contains its beauty in life."

"
Bellona
! You speak as if my flesh were weak, vulnerable.
Delicate.
"

Bellona
batted her eyelashes. "If I truly wanted to, I could show you just how weak and vulnerable your bones and flesh and organs really are." She began caressing his chest again. "So, little human, don't tempt me." She grinned.

They reached for each other then with an inhuman swiftness and locked into a passionate kiss. As their mouths pressed together, their heads swiveling with the motion of each other, blood began to stream down from between their lips and smear on both of their faces as they pulled themselves together, body to body and made love again.

* * *

The moon's silver sickle hung upside down as the first "
Darvender
" truck arrived at the edge of the thick wet woods marking the last of its long travels.
Ishan
looked out beyond the darkness that separated the tall thin trees and felt the Queen's presence with more force than he had in decades. They were really here now. There were only a few hours of hand-and-foot travel in stealth between them.

Ishan
put the truck in park and turned to wake Ross who was slumped against the passenger door of the truck's cab, a long string of slobber hanging from his mouth and pooling against the burgundy leather. Ross jerked awake at the mere touch of
Ishan's
hand against his bare flesh.

"Cold," he yelled and then mumbled something
Ishan
couldn't quite decipher.

"Ross, we're here. You'll need to take the truck to its final destination and meet us back at the hive when the sun has risen." Ross's eyes seemed to turn on like two bulbs of yellow light at the mentioning of the hive.

"Yeah, gotcha chief.
Sorry about that.
Didn't get
m'self
much sleep the past few nights.
Just let me know when you've got everyone accounted for and I'll be on m' way." Ross's face twisted into a sort of strange smile and he nodded.
Ishan
had grown accustomed to the man's odd ways long before they'd had to make this long trip together. Ross carried an equal awe and fear for vampires. Which was perfectly understandable for any human, but his way of dealing with the two conflicting feelings wasn't quite as... stable as any other loyal member of the
Foederati
usually was.

Ishan
nodded in return and got out of the cab, nearly floating down to the ground with graceful motion. He walked back to the end of the trailer and unlatched the lock. The door burst open and hundreds of vampires of all shapes and sizes came streaming out from behind the doors in swift silent flashes.
A grin crept onto his face as he watched the blur of pale motion blast like light through the forest and then get
swallowed by the trees. They were truly home again. It took all
Ishan
had not to howl out in excitement.

 He took an unneeded long deep breath of air, taking in the scents of the swamp and the forest and then shot forward into the night, letting the darkness flow behind him like a cloak.

* * *

 Hank had just regained his composure—at least as much as could be—when there was a loud tapping at the driver side window behind him. The sound caused him to jump up from his seat. In the window was one of the vampires he recognized from within the trailer.
A tall man with stringy black wavy hair, a long nose, and soft blue eyes.
The vampire called in to him through the muffling of the window.

"You
wanna
let me in, mate? I reckon you need some sleep, eh?"

Sleep. Though he thought it was likely the last thing he wanted after the vision, Hank nodded. He wasn't in any condition to be driving this rig right now anyway. Time to process what he had seen would be crucial. Time to figure out how to make sure it didn't happen. The vampire opened the door, not waiting for an invitation. Hank quickly thanked him and slipped behind the passenger side seat and into the bed in the back of the cab. He'd had no intention of sleeping, but as soon as his head landed in that pillow exhaustion took over and he fell into a heavy deep slumber.

When he woke, Hank knew they were there. He could see it in his mind's eye. They were at the place where he had first been in his dreams, in his visions. Somewhere nearby was that very cave. Somehow the Queen had reached out to him and tasted his blood and given him something in return.

Gravel crunched underneath the tires and the scene outside the windshield seemed to blur with movement in shades of green and brown as Hank got up from the bed. The truck was turning, maneuvering around trees and other obstacles.

"Eh, mate, sorry I woke you. It's probably for the best, though. We're pretty much here now." The black-haired vampire shifted gears and the truck came to a stop. "Here we are. The hive
awaits
."

Outside, a line of trucks were parked in random spots just at the edge of what appeared to be a lush swampy forest. Hank watched the wind blow against the branches in awe of the place. It was beautiful.

"Eh, you going to stand there gawking all night long? If so, suit
y'self
, I’m going to go unlock the trailer and let the others out. You need help finding your way around?"

"No...
thanks
though." Hank didn't take his eyes away from those trees. The door wasn't even open yet and he already knew what they smelled like. He'd already seen them before and yet their beauty still surprised him.

"All right.
I'll leave you to it then." The door screeched open and the vampire got out and closed the door behind him. There was a loud clang from somewhere in the back of the truck Hank knew was the trailer being unlocked and then the cab shook for several moments. White flashes blasted into the forest and disappeared. The truck finally went still leaving Hank alone in the truck in the dark quiet night. He could feel her cool breath on the back of his neck. She was calling to him. The desire to do as she wanted was overpowering the immense fear that came with knowing just who and what she truly was.
Inhuman on a level beyond any human vampire.
Yet intelligent on a level her ancestor children could never conceive.

Hank slid between the seats of the cab and opened the passenger door of the truck. The need to go to her was immeasurable now. It was suddenly all he'd ever wanted or ever needed. And even then it was so much more. Stepping down to the ground, Hank closed the passenger door and started walking toward the dark wet forest letting the reflection of the moonlight wash over him. His mind was clouded and heavy.

Chapter 26

Charlie Duncan

George had been waiting for only a few minutes when the door burst open and in rushed Charlie Duncan like a silver bullet. There truly was no other way to describe it as the man was nearly clad in all gray and silver and he moved with the pace and cheer of a hyper child on Christmas morning.

"How you
doin
', George?
It's great to meet you in person. Did my associate get you some coffee? I don't see any coffee—here let me get you some."

George just sat there unsure if he should respond. An instant later, Charlie handed him a plain white coffee mug complete with rising steam and warm porcelain.

"Now what can I do for you, George?" Before he could respond, Charlie pulled up a chair right in front of George and sat down and looked straight into his eyes. "Take your time."

George coughed and set the coffee on the desk beside him. A deep breath wasn't going to be enough to give him the courage he needed, but he figured it was a hell of a start. "I have a book of pictures that—if it became public—it could do some damage to
the Emperor.
"

Charlie just stared at him for a long time looking like a stone wall sitting and waiting for the end of the world. Then he ran his hands through his huge mess of gray hair, pulling it down close to his scalp, so that when he pulled his hands away it practically catapulted back up into the same exact mess it was before. With the most serious deadpan look George had ever seen on another man, he spoke in a whisper.

"Do you have the book with you now?"

George nodded, reaching his hand into his coat more as a communication to Charlie that it was on his person than a move to pull out the book. Charlie nodded at an angle as if to say let's see it and George went ahead and grabbed hold of the book in his interior pocket. His arm was to the point of shaking as he handed the booklet over to Charlie. There was a slight tremor in Charlie's fingers as he fumbled the book to his lap and began flipping through the pages. This took away some of the shame that had stricken George in regards to the fear he felt handling the book. Whether it was a lifetime of following the rules or simply the fear of what the Emperor would do to him if he were caught, George wasn't sure, but his fear either way was very real indeed.

Charlie's skimming through the pages began to slow in pace drastically as he started to more thoroughly inspect what he was actually holding. It was as if he hadn't really taken George serious up until something had caught his eye. His face went pale and his hair seemed to stand on end even more even though it didn't seem possible. And then, all of a sudden, a giggle crept from his vocal chords and he looked up at George with the most disturbing grin he had ever seen.

"Ha
ha
,
Georgie
boy, you hit the
motherfucking
jackpot with this son of a—oh, I'm sorry I almost forgot I was in the presence of a clergyman. Please forgive my rude language—but, this is absolutely amazing what you've brought me here." He looked down at the book again, still flipping through its pages with the devilish, delighted expression of a boy looking through his first porno
mag
.

George felt some relief wash over him and managed a laugh. "It's pretty great, isn't it?"

"Well, fuck yeah, it is... and just what did you plan on doing with it? Why are you bringing it to me?"

"Well, I thought maybe it would be best to find someone who has just as much reason as me—if not more—to put this thing out there—in the hands of the people."

Charlie exploded with high-pitched laughter.
"The people?
I haven't heard that phrase uttered since before the war—you're serious, aren't you?"

George crossed his arms. "Yes, I am. I may be an old man, but I'm an old man who remembers the country his ancestors fought for. Who remembers the stars and the stripes when they were red, white, and
blue.
I'm an old man who remembers religious freedom, and who won't stop until it's put back in its rightful place."

With the most serious expression of parody, Charlie stood up straight in true soldier posture staring vacantly in George's general direction and gave him an exaggerated salute. Holding that stiff position like a sailor waiting to be relieved, Charlie shouted at the top of his lungs, "You've come to the right, ah, place, ah, Reverend Nelson. Just, ah, you wait and see, ah. We'll do the good Lord's work, ah, Reverend Nelson, ah. And get this book out to every
eyes
that can read. Yes, ah, Brother Nelson, ah. Hallelujah!" And like a kid in a candy store, he broke his stance and tore right back into the booklet, leafing through like a child engulfed in a colorful picture book.

Still holding the tattered thing with one hand, he reached over and slapped George on the back hard enough to send a chill down the old man's back. "You did the right thing,
Georgie
, porgy. You did the right goddamn thing." He turned away, mumbling to himself. "The right thing, all right." Charlie sat down behind his desk staring into the booklet as if George wasn't even there.

For a long time there was nothing but silence before Charlie's voice broke the stillness like a boulder slamming into a pond. "First thing we'll do is get this sucker copied. I've got an underground small print company that handles distributing some things I like leaked from time to time. But this one—baby—this one is big. To be on the safe side we'll have to print a ton of these lovelies and push them all out at once—because as soon as the
Schlemperor
finds out about this, we'll be target number one, baby,
the
first in line at the firing squad birthday bash. And now that the city of sin is burnt to the ground, we won't go to the bloodsuckers, but they'll sure as hell come to us. Come ready to burn our operation to the ground and suck every last drop of blood from our bones. And you know what, it would be goddamn worth it to me to be able to look them straight in the eye and say, "Yes, we bent your buddy over a good one. Now
how's
about a good boy turns around, bends over too, and takes it like his daddy showed him to—what ten thousand years ago or some shit..." Charlie took a loud gasping breath. "So
whattaya
say, you think you came to the right
fuckin
' place or what,
Georgie
?"

George just smiled uncomfortably. He was ecstatic at what Charlie planned to do, but the man's frantic and awkward presence was more than a little unnerving.

"Looks like we're in business,
Georgie
.
Georgie
, porgy...
Georgie
porgy, orgy—" Charlie broke into laughter to the point of tears and George couldn't help but giggle in unison with what had become a contagious sort of humor that emanated off this strange man. George didn't know what it was he felt toward him, though he knew he didn't exactly like him, he did know he didn't
dislike
him either.

Charlie stopped laughing abruptly and stuck out his hand for George to shake. George gripped the hand tightly and Charlie clamped down in return hurting George's hand.

"And just how much do you want for this little book, anyway? I'm sure you have a
price
," his hand squeezed harder to accentuate the word, "don't you?"

George nearly fell to the floor from the pain of the man's grip that was obviously purposely causing it. "Just a little bit of business we have to get out of the way first." His hand squeezed tighter and several bones in George's hand cracked simultaneously.

George yelped.

"You fuck with me, you lie to me, I find out this thing is faked by the best goddamn artist in the world, or you rat out me or any of my associates and I will personally rip your throat out through your eye socket and ricochet my piss off your brain and down into your esophagus, do you hear me,
Georgie
boy?"

George managed a squeal of a syllable that was as close to a yes as he could let out.

"Good," Charlie's face grew into a dark grin, "because I would hate to have to waste a good patriotic clergyman like yourself, there's not enough good men left on this godforsaken soil—I like you. So, let those broken bones heal in remembrance of why you'll never so much as breathe a single word against me, okay, champ?"

George nodded as tears streamed down his cheeks and wet the stiff hairs of his beard. Charlie brightened back up like the flip of a switch and started to dance something akin to a jig as he went back to leafing through the pages of the book that George hoped would have some part someday—at least a tiny bit—to help take down that self-righteous unholy bastard, Joseph Caesar.
Dear God, I hope this is worth it.