The Blood Order (Fanghunters Book Two) (11 page)

Vincent frowned. "Eddie?"

"My brother."

"I see. And what was Sammy angry with Eddie about?"

"I dunno. He mentioned something about a sample."

"A
sample
?"

"Yeah."

Vincent shook his head. "What kind of sample?"

Dom shrugged. "I have no idea. He didn't tell me cause he iced me and went for my neck. And then Trixie came along."

Vincent leaned back in his seat and reflected. "It seems to me you and your brother had some kind of deal going with the Order before somehow you became ostracized. Following that, an outsider vamp took you into his brood. From there, your memory was dulled by the manna."

Dom looked away. "I wish you'd call it venom, Vincent. Manna sounds too nice."

Vincent raised his eyebrows. "Sorry. I'm old. These new terms are beyond me."

"So what was this deal we had?" Dom asked.

"If you can't answer that, then how could I?"

Dom sighed. "I'm worried about Eddie. I don't even know if he's alive."

"Yes, I understand your concern. The problem we have is Order vampires are out of our jurisdiction. It's very important you don't go near that club again, and to stay away from the Loop altogether."

Dom's brow furrowed. "But, what about my brother?"

"Let me have a think about the best course of action to take. I'm intrigued myself to uncover your connection with the Order. I'll see what our contacts within the Order know about your brother."

"Thanks, Vincent."

"And as for them troubling you personally, they'll soon realize you're working for us now and should be left alone."

"You can do that?"

Vincent gave him a vehement nod. "Of course. Like I said, we have an alliance with the Order, albeit an unsteady one. The deal is they leave us alone as long as we leave
them
alone. It doesn't mean that we don't keep tabs on them
,
though. Once they learn you're working for me, they'll leave you alone. Just lay low for now and let the dust settle a little on what happened at the discotheque. Keep up with your training and we'll see how things pan out from here."

"Okay, Vincent," Dom said before he took a deep breath and released a heavy sigh. "It really does hurt not knowing if Eddie's safe or even where he is. The fact that these Order vamps are after him scares the crap outta me."

"I understand how you feel. However, the very fact they're still looking for Eddie is a good thing. It means they haven't got him yet, so he has a fighting chance."

Dom looked down. "I suppose..."

"If there's one thing I know, it's that these things have a funny way of evening themselves out. But for now, I believe Trixie has some jobs coming up. Vampires are spreading through the city and we need to keep them in check."

Dom nodded. "I suppose that's what my life's about now. It's what I'm paid to do." He looked away at the giant fir trees in the distance; they swayed in the breeze in faint arcs. "I just hope he's all right. Him
and
Dad."

PART TWO

CHAPTER TEN

E
ddie Dempsey was scrunched up in the corner of the sunless crypt, his knees tucked tight into his chest. In the darkness, he rocked back and forth, his lips trembling, his eyes wide awake.

He couldn't sleep. The words and symbols were back again. Racing through his mind, colliding with one another like runaway trains. Words, symbols, formulae. Hydroxypan, Naproxycillin, Sansilicate, CONC-HI, Benzaphophosphate. Overly long, unpronounceable, nonsensical combinations of strange, arcane words that were somehow trapped in his brain, unwilling to leave, repeating and reoccurring over and over like a stuck record. They plagued him in a constant chorus, pushing him to the brink of insanity.

What are they? WHAT ARE THEY?

Eddie knew there was only one way to stop them, one surefire way to blot them, dull them, snap them in pieces. Yes, it would be only temporary respite; they'd regain their strength and begin shouting at him once more. But the relief, the brief pause in their incessant screeching was what kept him from sliding into the abyss of madness. With no clear indicator of when day stopped and night began, he could only wait in excruciating agony for the Father to rise and stem the pain. He'd awaken, and show him mercy, freeing him from the burden of the bizarre words and doctrine that had infected his mind; albeit for merely a small while. The Father would then return to rest and the effects of his bite would wear off, and the words would begin pulsating inside him again, torturing him. They wanted something, something from him, something he was unable to provide.

He watched on, helpless as another of those words, Methylhexatryglyceride, whirled around in the air, conjoining with another, hydroxylanthopoliceleate, to create a new hybrid word, methylhydroxylpolithate. He growled, clawing at his cheeks; if he possessed cat-claws, they'd be torn to ribbons.

"What does it mean? WHAT DOES IT MEAN?" he shouted at the pitch black enslaving him. "WHAT DOES IT MEAN?"

"
What does what mean, my child?
" a voice from the darkness answered. A heavenly voice that defied its coarse, grainy quality.

Eddie flinched, his eager eyes scanning the darkness. "Father?" he gasped.

"Yes, my son," the Father replied from somewhere in the sea of murk.

"I need you!" Eddie told him, his voice loaded with desperation. "The words... the symbols... they've come back again."

"I know, my child. Ignore them. They mean nothing to you." The voice was accompanied with a cold hand falling upon his head. He shivered. It was a good shiver, an invigorating shiver. It stirred positive senses inside him. Already, the words were receding from his mind, their power over him dulled. Soon, they would be banished to whatever hellish place they came from.

"They won't leave me alone!" Eddie wept, feeling the tears streaming down his cheeks.

"They will. In time," the Father assured him. Then: "Get to your feet," he ordered.

Eddie wiped the tears from his cheeks, before groping in the dark for the Father's hand. He found it; cold and dry. It clasped around his and Eddie gripped it, pulling it into his cheek, seeking its comfort. He exerted the pressure in his legs to propel himself to his feet, now no longer crumpled in the corner, instead now standing ten feet tall. He fumbled a hand out to the side, managing to locate the light switch. He flicked it on, wanting to lay his eyes on the Father. The naked bulb hanging from the center of the low ceiling flickered on, remaining somewhere between off and on, bathing the small area in a fluorescent haze. The Father's pleasant face then came into view; his black eyes, his pale skin.

The scars had already healed over but were still vivid. Staring at those scratches running across his cheeks caused the anger to brew. The anger at the one who inflicted those wounds upon the Father after he invaded their crypt and attempted to kill him. They had to escape the old nest and find a new one where they'd be safe from such harmful, callous types. Eddie could see it now, could see that envious creature's intent on murder as he wielded that bottle neck and thrust it without pity into the Father's face before he made his cowardly escape. Eddie swore if he ever encountered that bastard again, he'd take his life without giving it a second thought.

He reached up. With the very tips of his fingers, he touched a scar zigzagging down the Father's cheek; rage mushroomed inside him. "I won't let anyone hurt you," Eddie told him. "I'll always protect you."

The Father flicked on his eyes. Eddie felt his whole body freeze in place; the pleasant numbness, welcome helplessness.

"I know you will, my child," the Father replied, his dark circles for eyes whirling, twisting, and turning like mini
-
typhoons. With a rough grip, he took hold of Eddie's jaw and pushed it back. Eddie went without a struggle. In the next instant, the heat of tusks puncturing his skin took over. Eddie closed his eyes and gasped. Long, undeterminable words and their surrogate symbols were now a thing of the past.

All that remained was euphoria, and more importantly, unconditional love.

F
ood. Eddie needed it. The Father insisted. If Eddie became weak, then he could no longer provide sustenance to the Father. Nor sufficient protection.

He was sprawled on the floor of the basement, the last waves of the venom washing over his body. The Father had already returned to rest. Soon, the symbols and words would return, and Eddie would be crippled, unable to venture outside and seek out food. It was the perfect time to leave the nest for a brief while. Hopefully
,
it would be near dusk, the perfect time for hiding, for laying low. He hoisted himself up to his feet, his head swimmy, a slight dizziness overcoming him. He steadied himself before groping in the dark for the light switch. He flicked it on and scanned the floor; it was strewn with empty bottles and cans, old chip packets, and polythene burger boxes. He went and sifted through them. There was nothing left. Not a scrap. His stomach rumbled; this time it was painful.

Got to eat.

Got to get food.

He turned toward the Father, who was lying on his makeshift bed--an old mattress they found in the basement when they first arrived. He was in deep sleep, Eddie's dry blood forming a crust on his chin. His lips twitched, his eyelids flickered in rapid sequences. Eddie watched him, love blooming in his heart. He wondered what sweet dreams the Father was witnessing--if he dreamed at all.

"I'll be back soon," Eddie said in a soft, soothing voice.

The Father's mouth flapped open for a brief moment, his heavy fangs on view.

Eddie sighed. He didn't want to leave his side. Didn't want to leave him in this vulnerable state. But, if he ventured outside either in the throes of ecstasy from the venom or caught in the torment of the words and symbols,
he
would be the vulnerable one.

"I won't be long," Eddie added and the Father seemed to calm.

Eddie turned and headed for the entrance. He flicked the light switch off, dumping their home into inky darkness once more. He slid open the bolt and cranked open the metal door. A swathe of nasty sunlight flooded into the basement. He recoiled against it with a groan. It wasn't dusk after all but nearer midday. Never mind, he still had to go and find food.

Putting his hand up to protect his eyes against the harsh sun, he slid out through the gap, pulling the door shut behind him. He couldn't put the bolt back on from outside, but as promised, he wouldn't be long. He had a final look back at the door before he jumped up the concrete steps to street level, his heart thudding in his ears and the beginnings of never-ending words starting to surface in his mind like pond reeds.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

D
om stopped at the red light and craned his neck left and right. He was still aching from the lesson Rufus and Trixie served him in the gym. He winced, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel of the Land Rover Vincent gave him the keys to. Not a bad deal: a new home in a mansion, keys to a whole fleet of wheels. All as a reward for doing something positive in the world.

Not bad at all.

"So, what are we doing down here?" Dom asked Trixie, who was in the passenger seat, checking the street like a paranoid cop.

"I found some suckers here," Trixie told him.

Dom looked around. South Side was more run down than ever. The buildings appeared like they were gradually turning to powder, shop doorways were homes, schizophrenia the epitome of mental health.

"Why is it vamps come to these places?" Dom asked, his vacant stare fixed on his surroundings.

Trixie gave him an indifferent shrug. "They can fit in here I suppose. There's plenty of dark corners for them to blend into, lots of willing fangheads. I mean it's either that or crack, right?"

Dom gave her a solemn nod. "Yeah, I suppose."

"Besides, non-Order vamps are vulnerable. Order don't tolerate them. If Order finds non-Order, they're dealt with pretty quick. So they gotta get far away from the Loop. In the Loop, Order are a dime a dozen."