Legacy in Blood (Book 1 of The Begotten of Old Series) (2 page)

But the vampire suddenly stopped, took off her glasses and turned her face to Ruslan. Her full, sensuous lips elongated into a sneer. Ruslan was taken aback and did not manage to turn his gaze away from the target in time.

“Shit, she’s made you!” gasped Marisa. “Run, now!”

But Ruslan did not move. He simply stared at the vampire.

“Go, Rus!” Marisa was now close to yelling.

But the agent, this excellent student of military and political training, stood as if nailed to the spot and gaped at the vampire as she smiled at him. Marisa took it as a positive sign that she could still hear and see his heavy, labored breathing. If she did not know him so well, she would have thought the boy was having a heart attack. Or that he was simply having sex with someone, which of course was, in principle, impossible under the circumstances.

“Ruslan!” Marisa cried out.

And at that moment the vampire screwed up her left eye and – yes, yes Marisa saw this perfectly well – she winked at her! Not at Ruslan, at her! And then she walked towards the exit.

Marisa tried with all her might to chase after her, and that was when she finally realized just how quickly this damned vampire could move. Marisa hastened her steps – and then she was running, weaving in between the numerous people who were arriving and departing. Ruslan was right in front of her. He still stood in exactly the same spot, looking like a wax statue. In despair, Marisa caught one last glimpse of the vampire’s back before she disappeared. A second passed as she considered her course of action, and then she rejected all her doubts and sprinted to her unfortunate partner.

“Ruslan!” yelled Marisa and grabbed the boy by his shoulder.

He mumbled something unintelligible in reply.

“Did she bite you?”

But when would she have had the time?
The thought came to her immediately.

From numerous textbooks, and also from the experiences of her more seasoned colleagues in the department, Marisa knew that vampires sometimes had the ability to hypnotize their victims. Maybe that vixen had managed to bite him while they were both befuddled by her gaze, grappling with vampiric charms? But Ruslan did not look as if he had been bitten. All the agents of CRUSS knew the symptoms of the so-called ‘vampire’s kiss’ by heart – pallor, heart palpitations, irregular breathing and, of course, the notorious fang wounds. Ruslan’s heart, judging by his breathing, was hooting like an enraged screech owl. But his cheeks were still ruddy, and there was no visible wound. On his neck, at any rate.

“What a…what a woman,” breathed Ruslan.

Marisa retreated a step, relieved that he’d said something intelligible at last. But in the next moment the insane urge to rage at him overcame her.

“What the fuck is wrong with you – are you out of your mind, you motherfucker?” Marisa roared. “You just screwed up the entire operation!”

“Wha…what operation?” Ruslan blinked his eyes, obviously still in a state of shock.

Marisa clenched her fist with the intention of punching him in the nose. But then she thought better of it. She suddenly felt crushed and completely washed out. Ruslan, in the meantime, was twisting his head from side to side. It seemed that his awareness was returning to him, if the way his face changed was any indication. Marisa experienced an onslaught of malevolent joy. Ruslan suddenly clutched at his holster, but it was in place. As was his gun.

“Am I really that much of a moron?” he asked pitifully and turned as white as a sheet.

The people around them were already starting to stare. A pair of officious onlookers even headed towards a group of bored policemen who were leisurely eating near a pastry kiosk. They needed to get the hell out of here, and quickly – Marisa didn’t want to get into a situation where she’d have to flash her badge in public.

“Come on, let’s call Papa,” said Marisa bitterly. “We’ll tell him that we let her get away.”

Ruslan nodded absentmindedly. And then, as if felled by a sudden blow, he crashed to the floor.

2.

 

Feliz qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas.

Fortunate is he who is able to know the causes of things.

 

They showed vampires movies on the flight, an entire series of them. Apparently, one of the crew was a “vampire fan”. Dalana laughed from the depths of her soul as she watched them – it had been a long time since she had been so merry. Though, of course, none of the other passengers noticed her merriment, for she kept it inside. She was especially amused by two relatively recent Hollywood ‘masterpieces’. In one of them, Tom Cruise played a vampire by the name of Lestat. In the other, another actor played the same role; he was younger, and not nearly as good. He lacked charisma. Judging from the enthusiastic reception by the adolescents who were sitting behind Dalana, these movies were screen adaptations of extremely popular novels. Vampire best-sellers. Dalana had read such books on occasion, but sadly, not one of the authors, including Bram Stoker, the so-called father of the genre, had managed to correctly explain the origins of vampires. Some missed the boat entirely, unsure as to whether they were servants of the Devil or extraterrestrials or some other nonsense. Other authors didn’t even bother with the question, being satisfied with the simple idea that they existed. The same confusion and disregard was discernable in the films as well, and both media were peppered with clichés and hackneyed phrases. Fangs grew, but who knows from where and by what means, and the owners of these fangs copulated with and fed upon one and all, as if it weren’t important whether they were male or female. Without fail, they overindulged. They slept in coffins and feared sunlight, crosses and garlic. Some could fly, but strangely, more often they turned into bats, and for some mysterious reason they didn’t reflect in mirrors.

But there were also some things that hit the mark, like fingers of lightning dragging across a clear blue sky. Vampires did indeed drink blood. Vampires…yes, indeed, humans had thought up this word, and by the standards of creatures like Dalana, very recently. So what were they called before? All sorts of things. There were many names, so many that she could no longer remember them all. Dalana began to feel nostalgia for those remote ages when Divinity and Humanity had still lived hand in hand… Could it really be so long ago? Yes, and had it really been like that anyway? Listening to the measured drone of the engine, Dalana thought about the ages of her youth, long ago passed into myth. And now she and her kinsmen, all born into the world in those forgotten times, often called themselves vampires, as a sort of tribute to human fancy.

Yes, vampires drank blood, and vampires really could be killed with the help of a wooden stake thrust into the heart. Why the heart? Well, because the heart is the center of the life force of any living creature. But Dalana knew of creatures who did not even have hearts. They were immortal, truly immortal. Dalana had a heart, as did her numerous brothers and sisters. It almost did not beat at all; instead, it beat very slowly. Only fresh, hot blood could enliven it, but only for a time. As for wooden stakes – the material was immaterial, as it were. They could be made of anything; they could be an iron spike or a stone knife. At one time humans had used stone knives, but then they exchanged the stone for metal. But wood, both then and now, was an easy and expedient material to use.

The same also applied to those pseudo-vampires – ‘the transmogrified’ or transmogs – altered humans who had drunk the forbidden blood. It was possible to kill them by injuring their hearts. Also, they were generally much weaker that those who were Begotten of Old.

Those were arguably the most important similarities between the fancies of the scribblers and movie hacks and the actual situation. There were, of course, some other fortuitous coincidences, but they were all trifling. Dalana, for example, really did love to wear dark glasses, but not because she had vampiric eyes or because she despised the sun. She simply looked good in them. Despite her nostalgia, there were many aspects of modern life that pleased her.

Of course, there was yet another irrelevant correlation. Transmogs were almost always excessively salacious. Humans generally kept their nature when they were converted, and Man is often tarnished by his nature. So it is. But even if it were not, life is long for the transmogrified and the days flow monotonously into the years, the years into the centuries…. Plus, the transmogrified were usually rich, extremely rich. What else is there to do when you are rich and you are dying of boredom? Naturally, you turn to depravity.

And so on the screen a certain Akasha, the supposed ancestress of all vampires, was making love to Lestat in a bathtub full of blood. The adolescents behind her were nearly dying from titillation. Gilded American youth. Dalana wondered where their parents were. And now Lestat was crawling along the ceiling. Dalana could also crawl along the ceiling. Once this had seemed like a genuine miracle. But now gigantic white birds called airplanes prowled the sky, and human scholars had explained much that was once arcane, including the ability of certain creatures to cling to vertical surfaces. It apparently had something to do with surface tension and adhesion, and it allowed small geckos to run along ceilings, as well as flies and cockroaches. So these learned scholars had placed Dalana in the same category as insects and lizards. Outside, it was the twenty-first century of the Christian era and any miracle had an entirely rational, scientific explanation. Well, almost any miracle.

Dalana looked around and again marveled at the quantity of phantoms residing in the cabin of the airliner. For some reason, there were always many more of them on airplanes than anywhere else. Several of them animatedly watched the ‘moving picture’, from time to time violently arguing amongst themselves about what they were watching, while others sat with gloomy visages and did not converse. Basically, they were the souls of dead humans, but Dalana also noticed among them a few lower spirits. Now they were resting in their natural, ‘firstborn’ guise – in the form of black, faceless clouds with thin feelers that sluggishly meandered along the floor of the cabin. Such spirits were invisible to humans and nearly invulnerable in their natural form, but it cost them to take on human shape because they immediately became mortal. In the old days, where Dalana’s kin came from, humans had called these creatures the Lus. The majority of the Lus, just like these who were now in the plane, preferred not to show themselves to humans even if they lived among them. But there were also others who married, bore children, grew ill, grew old, and died. They kept a portion of their divinity when they assumed human form: having power over gold, they were all filthy rich. A particle of this gift manifested in their descendents. Humans in whose veins flowed even the smallest drop of a Lus’ blood were able to make money as if from air.

“Would you like something to drink?” asked the stewardess with a perfunctory smile.

Lord, what hair you have…. What do you use to wash it?

“It doesn’t have anything to do with shampoo,” said Dalana.

The stewardess was struck dumb. The smile slowly slid off her face.

“Excuse me?” She could barely get the words out.

“Try omitting sweeteners from your diet. That’s your problem, the reason your hair is dull.” Dalana gave a conspiratorial wink to the woman. “And bring me a mineral water, please.”

Nodding her head in agreement, the stewardess walked away on stiff legs. Dalana grinned. Fear had caused the girl to forget to ask if her mineral water should be sparkling or still. It was an unpardonable error, especially considering the price of a ticket in business class. But it really did not matter to Dalana what the stewardess brought her – it could be mineral water, cognac or even toilet cleaner for all she cared. They were all equally tasteless to a vampire. Dalana could have chartered an airplane and flown in the solitude and luxury that is known only to pop stars, CEOs and presidents. But what was the point of all that ostentatious waste? She had long ago learned not to hear the thoughts of the humans surrounding her except when she wanted to. In case of an emergency or, well, for the sake of amusement.

The stewardess brought her some mineral water. It was still. The woman moved on calmly, but her heart was beating like a rabbit’s. Dalana wondered what her reaction would be if her sight could encompass, even for just a fraction of a second,
who
and
what
traveled with her on board the airplane. Dalana swept her gaze over her fellow travelers. It seemed that a new guest had joined their diverse company. And it seemed that, unlike the Lus and the phantoms, which wandered aimlessly through the human world, it had a specific purpose here. The new creature had numerous feelers and its head reminded Dalana most of all of an amoeba. Dalana recognized it and knew it had come here on the orders of its Master; one didn’t often see this type of animal. Hundreds of millions of microscopic virus molecules of a fatal disease, known to humans as smallpox, lived in the bowels of this amoebic creature. Of course, humans already knew how to vaccinate against smallpox, but what they didn’t know was that the beast slithering through the plane had received a clear order from its Master – to kill. For He who sent it desired that a fresh human soul be gathered away into his dark palace. And this desire did not leave the victim any chance of recovery.

Dalana followed the movements of the creature intently. It slid into the economy class cabin and inexorably slithered towards an attractive young woman in a window seat. However, the goal of the beast was not the woman, but rather the cute, fair-haired little girl who was snuggling up to her mother in the adjacent seat, unaware that her fate had just been decided. The little girl was astonishingly sweet and pretty. Dalana’s keen preternatural vision allowed her to view every detail of her smiling baby face, even through the shutters that divided the cabins. Had she managed to learn or experience much in her seven short years?

The girl shuddered; apparently she was subconsciously aware of the approaching danger.