Eternal Darkness, Blood King (14 page)

I looked down at the city. My eyes captured all the details and the brightness of the night. Its energy made me feel all powerful. My body rose slowly, high enough for me to see as far as Fort Lauderdale. Swiftly, I dove toward the distant shore, determined to leave behind the powerful being known as Renzo Von Klatas.

*******

I found her, facing the dark ocean, alone. The sea breeze was generous, working in my favor, allowing me to sense her while washing away my own scent. I landed softly on the beach, staring at her back; and even then, I tried to find any sign of human life in her. The body was human, but whatever was inside of it was not.

“You’re early,” I heard her say without even turning to look at me. And then she did, slowly.

With my vampire eyes, I could easily see the microscopic bluish lines mixed with gray ones in her brown iris.

“So do you,” I replied.

She smiled and extended her left arm toward me. “Come to me,” she said.

I gave my all trying to read her mind, not moving like she asked me to. She stared at me and began to laugh.

“You can’t read my mind,” she explained.

This is how the old man must feel, I thought, keeping my distance.

“If there is a god and a devil,” I said, “if perhaps there’s a heaven and a hell, if we all have a soul, I assume there’s some kind of an arrangement between the two sides, right?” I paid attention to her reaction to my words.

It was intentional from my part to assume she had divine properties. I was intrigued by what she had to say regarding that.

“We fight for souls, each in our own way,” she answered.

Her reply made me smile. I called her bluff, and she took the bait by accepting that she was a divine being.

Despite all my vast knowledge about deities and religion, I found myself wanting to believe beyond reason. At that moment, everything was either real or not. There was no room for doubts.

“The other guy’s way being to promote the Ten Commandments and your way being to advocate sin,” I said with every intention of letting her know that I was following the beliefs of the manmade ruling religion. To make her believe that I “knew” whom I was dealing with.

I could feel she was indeed trying to read my mind, so I invested all my efforts in concealing my real thoughts.

“No, living. Humans have been indoctrinated. Living is sin. Abstinence is sin. Life is that simple,” she said.

I walked toward her, slowly, preparing myself for the possibility that I was indeed in the presence of a force that could match mine.

“And the afterlife?” I asked, wanting to know more.

“We dwell in the mansion we build. Your choice is the eternal pleasure of my realm or the boredom of eternal self-righteousness,” she said.

It was very hard for me to hide my feelings, not to reveal the fact that every night I get to be in the afterlife, and that I knew there was only emptiness.

“Death is that simple too?” I asked, pushing the issue.

“Your kind, better than most, should know the difference. Now come, act quickly, mortality is waiting for you,” she insisted, extending her arms toward me for a second time.

My kind, she said. What does she know about my kind? I smiled at her, and again kept my distance.

“Your entire act depends on impatience, choices made in a rush, people not willing to wait. They step in, and they fall,” I said without hiding the fact that I was having fun.

“Time helps me and you. Mortal creatures, people, as they get older, become less active. They smell their mortality, and they become fearful. Some turn to me, but most waste their time with prayers to a deaf god for salvation,” she said, looking at me with a puzzled expression, as if trying to understand why I was toying with her.

“Then you agree that those that turn to you are guilty of impatience?” I said, looking for a reaction.

She lowered her arm and remained calm.

“I prefer to think that they’re hungry for something better,” she replied.

Her answer made me chuckle. “Jesus! Therefore, you’re here to help people?” I said.

The woman chuckled back. “There was never a Jesus,” she continued.

“Nor a devil,” I said, dead serious.

“I’m just glad you didn’t listen to your friend last night,” she said.

I paused, considering the possibility that she had, somehow, read my mind. Because the alternative scenario of her following me to the old man’s house without me being able to feel her presence was certainly a serious thought—one that made me angry.

“Is eavesdropping another one of your talents, witch?” I asked.

She turned serious as well. “I’m everywhere, from one end of civilization to another, from the beginning of time to its final moments,” she said, firmly, menacingly.

“Yada, yada, yada. Yeah? It may be so, but then again, your are limited by a man made deity and its Commandments,” I added mockingly.

“Are borders real, or are they merely suggestions for the unimaginative like the Commandments are? Besides, what kind of leader has to demand fealty?” she asked in a confrontational manner.

Finally, I noticed a trace of humanity in her dead voice.

“You tell me,” I said, testing her.

“A leader inspires loyalty. He earns it by deeds, not commands. You are right, the Commandments are a human invention. Those who come to me come by choice, not fear,” she explained, regaining her previous emotionless posture.

“They are afraid of death. That’s why they come to me,” I said as I turned into the vampire I have always been.

She laughed out loud again. “It’s that ego that I love the most about you, Gitano!” she said with the biggest of smiles.

Her words made me sneer, and she stopped laughing.

“Answer this: Who has made them that way? Who but themselves. It has been always mortals who have created this conflict by coming up with a fall from grace myth that has no logic, and for daring to seek knowledge about something they just can’t comprehend. Mortals fear death because of everything they have invented around it. There was no need for any of this. I’m unparented and eternal. I’m the genesis of all deities in all times and all cultures,” she said slowly and with an evidently inflating ego.

My sneer slowly turned into a smile.

“Well, you do try hard to sell yourself. Is this the same crap that you, allegedly, tried to sell to those who followed the Carpenter’s scheme?” I asked, slowly approaching her in a menacing way.

“I told you, no lies!” she said angrily.

Her sudden burst of anger made my smile grow.

“The Romans cleaned everything up once they embraced the new religion. By the way, that was my idea too. Men have been carrying that belief since the times of Horus. Horus is the real Nazarene. I had nothing to do with it or with how the story transformed itself,” she said.

I almost cracked up hysterically after she had said the word Nazarene, but instead, I stopped walking and listened.

“I trusted that in time, humans would understand the reality of all the lies, but then I knew better. I knew that the new empire needed the ancient story of the Egyptian god to secure his hold on the masses who were afraid to lose their souls. It was brilliant! One human sacrifice in exchange of millions of souls is a brilliant concept in its simplicity, and scary in the level of stupidity necessary for anyone to believe in it. That’s why I suggested Constantine that the best way to save the empire was to make the so-called Christianity religion theirs, to conquer it. That’s when the emperor came up with the farce of becoming Christian, but only if the religious symbol was the handle of the sword of the emperor of Rome, the sword of Constantine, the cross,” she explained almost in a monotone.

This story was not new to me, but I stood there, forcing myself to hear her explanation without letting her know.

“In the end, the joke was on everyone because every day, those who believed the tale of the Messiah pledged their souls to the same empire and to the symbol of the old emperor and to the powers that created it. They knelt in front of dead wood and prayed inside the representative houses of the empire that conquered the so-called true religion,” she added.

“That’s if you are Catholic,” I said, not hiding the fact that I did not believe any of the things she said.

“Or if you believe in the nonsense story of the Resurrection,” she continued.

“I have defeated death,” I said firmly.

“Horus didn’t,” she replied softly.

“There’s no god or the devil, nor heaven or hell. There’s only life,” I whispered the words of my faith, as I have done for centuries.

“Believe this: Kiss my lips and gain your mortality,” she said, extending her left arm toward me invitingly for the third time.

This time I walked with conviction toward her, just to stop half a foot away from her body.

“You better be real, witch,” I said in a soft, menacing tone.

“There’s only one way you will find out,” she whispered.

I took her by the waist with quite some strength while my lips searched for hers. She held me by the shoulders with intensity. Our lips locked in a furious cold kiss. In moments, I began to feel different, warm and weaker. I felt drunk. My head was spinning. The sea breeze faded, and I forgot where I was. The only thing that mattered anymore was her lips on mine.

The ancient voices of the oldest within the night, the dark choirs of the night keepers of the secret temple were cursing me.

I opened my eyes, but I was blind; and soon there was nothing—only silence and a pitch-black darkness.

*******

March 9, 2005, 6:55 a.m.

Miami

It came as if in a nightmare. First, the sound. Then the sensation of the waves hitting the shore and the warmth of the new-morning sun on my back. I tried to move, but my body was too heavy. My eyes were closed. I felt a weird sensation, as if an unexpected pressure was building up in the center of my chest; and then it was gone, just to appear again. I exhaled hard, blowing the sand under my face. My hair was loose all over my shoulders, and my back was damp with sweat. I was sweating!

I opened my eyes, but they couldn’t adjust to all the clarity. For a moment, I considered the rare possibility that I might be blind. I waited with my head down, certain that in only a few moments, my vision would be normal again. I heard the birds in the distance and, again, the sea breeze all over me. Then I heard the distinctive sound of people and vehicles nearby. The city was waking up, and so was the sun. I knew I had to get up and find shelter fast.

Not waiting for my sight to be restored, I managed to stand up. My feet were so weak and slow I could barely stay up. I had to use all my strength just to take a step and then try to keep my balance.

What’s this magic? Why can’t I just move like the wind?

I tried again to see where I was, but I could see only shadows. I moved, following the sound of people, walking as if drunk, toward what I presumed was the avenue.

The warm sensation on my shoulders and my back scared me. I could actually feel the sun, but in a different manner. It was warm, but it was not burning me. I fell against the sand, on my right knee. Then a miracle—pain, sharp pain all over my leg, taking my breath away and overtaking all my senses.

I stayed down, looking for air, trying to regain control. My mind was going fast, analyzing every emotion.

It worked!

I was a mortal man, almost blind and hardly capable of moving, but a mortal.

Suddenly, I had the thought that the damn woman had put some kind of spell on my body to cripple it. Maybe that was her idea of a joke. I made an effort to stand again; this time I chose to walk, persuaded more because of the pain in my knee than by the knowledge that perhaps the sun wouldn’t kill me. My eyes were getting better, adjusting to the light all around me, and the shadowy figures began to assume some kind of gray tones. I felt the hard cold asphalt under my feet and realized was barefoot.

What had she done to me? Did she take my shoes away? I asked myself, trying to reach the other side of the avenue.

I heard people shouting and felt vehicles passing around me. “Great!” I was in the middle of the avenue, and I couldn’t see two feet away in front of me. I held out my arms, trying to let everyone know that I was not able to see a thing. I heard the vehicles stopping near me, and I dared to move forward, looking for the other end of the avenue.

Suddenly, a vehicle stopped very close to me, behind me; and I heard the car door opening, then footsteps, and then I felt the proximity of a body. I turned, and my eyes could make out only the blurred face of a man. I felt his hand grabbing mine. Then I heard his voice.

“Where do you think you’re going, bitch!”

I couldn’t be more confused.

“Remember me from the other night?” he asked.

My mind rushed over the past events, trying to identify the voice against my memory; but the mental process was too slow. Instead, I pushed him back, trying to free myself from his grip. Then I heard the distinctive sound of a gun being cocked. I felt the cold metal against my torso.