Undying Vengeance (18 page)

“
W
ake up, Adam
.” Alex ordered. “We’re at the cemetery.”

Adam opened his eyes and saw the Blakesley Cemetary sign at the entrance. The ground was covered in snow, tall oak trees scattered throughout and a few large pine trees. What would be beautiful rose bushes in the spring and summer lined the outer skirts. Lined in neat rows were tombstones where people’s loved ones rested in peace. The wind gusted and the car jostled.

Alex lit a cigarette and rolled down the window. He shivered and turned the heat up a notch.

Adam grimaced in pain. “That was quick.”

Alex smacked Adam’s head. “Of course it was quick. You were sleeping and it’s really not that far from the hospital.”

Adam fought the urge to punch his dad in the face.

“Let’s see, according to the Google directions Simone’s grave is in the back of the cemetery. Perfect place for that little princess,” he said laughing. “Her tombstone should say, ‘Spoiled little rich girl lies dead here.’ Gut laughter exploded from him.

Adam laughed. “You got that right.” He and Simone had been childhood friends and when they got older he tried his best to persuade her to date him but she was never interested. She always told him, ‘Let’s just be friends. I don’t want a romantic relationship with you.’ Adam had heard that enough and when the opportunity arose for his father and him to do Gabe’s bidding, he was more than happy to volunteer. A grim smile spread across his lips. It was the best feeling in the world knowing the last face Simone saw was his. She begged and pleaded with Adam to let her live just as he had begged and pleaded for her to be his lover. It was such satisfaction. Karma was a wicked thing at times.

“Wipe that smug look off your face, boy.” Alex ordered. Scanning the tombstones one by one he drove to the back of the cemetery. “You certainly can tell who has money and who doesn’t by the type of stone at the gravesite.”

“For sure,” Adam agreed nodding his head being careful not to twist or turn his body much. His ribs hurt like hell.

“Ah, there it is, son. Simone’s grave and no expense spared to give her a beautiful tombstone.” He said pointing.

Adam stared, awestruck. The tombstone was black marble and sparkled and twinkled in the winter sun. The archangel sitting on top of the stone had large eyes that stared straight ahead, her wings pointed to the Heavens and in her arms she held a harp close to her chest. The angel wore a long flowing robe that appeared to be blowing in the wind. Adam’s gaze lowered to the inscription below the angel’s crossed feet, but he couldn’t read it from the car.

Alex opened the car door. “Well, come on, let’s pay our regards.” Taking one last puff of his cigarette, he threw it on the ground and put his gloves on.

Adam took a deep breath and slowly got out of the car, trying to baby his ribs. He stood for a minute but the throbbing pain in his head made him fall to his knees.

“You’ve got to read what our friend, Armani had inscribed on her tombstone.” Alex said and chuckled. “What a joke.” He stared at the vase filled with multi-colored roses and cringed. “Son, get over here.”

Adam scowled, cursing under his breath. Couldn’t his dad see he was in a lot of pain? Using the car for leverage, he rose to his feet and walked hunched over to where his dad stood.

Adam read the inscription aloud. “Simone Richards. My Angel In The Night.” Disgusted, he spit on the ground where Simone lay six feet under. “My angel in the night, what the hell kind of thing is that to put on a tombstone?” He asked, his face as red as a beet. He noticed the vase of roses and picked up the note that was attached. “I’m going to be sick.” He said and handed the poem to his father. “Our musical genius, Armani wrote this to his beloved dead Simone.”

Alex snatched the note from Adam like a starving man taking food. “You know what to do. Break the vase of roses.” He ordered.

Adam picked up the vase, raised it over his head and threw it at the angel’s face. It landed hard smashing into a hundred pieces. He held his ribs and laughed, staring at the angel’s face.

“What could possibly be funny?” Alex asked staring at his son.

Adam pointed at the angel. “I chipped her nose.” He couldn’t stop laughing even though it felt like someone was jumping up and down on his ribcage. He felt like he was hurting Simone all over again and that felt good.

“Yes, you did. Who cares?”

Adam stared back at his dad as if he were some creature from another planet. He refused to say a word knowing what the consequences of that would be. Adam was unpredictable and always had been. There was no telling what his dad would do if he opened his mouth with a reply, even if what he said made sense.

The dead rose’s lye scattered on the snow covering Simone’s grave. Alex stomped on the flowers, twisting his feet and grinding them into the snow. “I hope she can feel the hatred.” He said and spit on the marble platform the angel stood on.

Adam smiled. “Did you bring the spray paint?” He held out his hand and waited for his dad to give it to him. He wanted the honors of putting a proper inscription on her grave marker.

Alex reached into the duffel bag and pulled out a can of red paint. “This will show up wonderfully. Black and red always have been a great contrast to one another.” He said and threw the can to Adam, a wicked smile on his face.

Shaking the can a few times, Adam pulled off the cap. He stood close to the marble stone, held the can upright and painted the word ‘WHORE’ in large letters over the inscription.

Adam laughed. “Well, Simone you now have your name written on here for the world to see.” He said. He took a few steps back and stopped where he assumed her chest would be lying in the coffin and fell to his knees. He put his face as close to the earth as possible. “Simone, you whore, how do you like me now? I hope you’re burning in hell.” He stated and raised his hand to Alex. “Help me up.”

Alex took his sons hand and hoisted him to his feet. “Let’s get out of here before we get caught.” He rubbed his chin and said, “It probably wasn’t the smartest thing in the world to do this during the day.”

“You’re right.” Adam agreed.

They walked toward the car. A cold wind blew bending the trees. The branches made an eerie creaking and cracking noise like an old rocking chair on a wood floor.

Alex zipped his jacket to his chin and folded his arms to keep warm. “It feels like it dropped ten degrees out here.”

“I know. I feel chilled to the bone.” Adam said. Something didn’t feel right. He had a strange feeling they were being watched. He turned and saw nothing. The slamming car door brought him back to reality.

Alex motioned for him to get in the car. Adam slowly eased himself into the passenger seat and cradled his ribs as he did. He tried to shake off the feeling of being watched but it was hopeless. Something or someone was out there. Maybe Gabe wasn’t lying and something was after them.

Alex started the car. “What’s on your mind?” He asked and lit a cigarette.

Adam dismissed the question with a shrug. “Oh, nothing I’m just thinking.” He looked out the window and watched the giant oak trees sway, their branches like skeletal hands reaching out to the car. Goosebumps prickled his arms. He rubbed his arms trying to forget the stories Gabe told them a couple nights ago.

Alex shifted the car into drive. “Bid Simone farewell.” He said saluting with his middle finger. “I did this for you, son.” He smiled and squeezed Adam’s cheek. “No one rejects my son.”

‘Except you,’ Adam thought. He grimaced and looked at Simone’s gravesite as they drove away.

Adam’s jaw dropped. The angel’s eyes glowed red and she was staring at him. He blinked twice and looked again, not wanting to believe what he saw. He watched in horror as she smiled. Fangs like a vampire’s protruded from her mouth. The angel held the harp in one hand and pointed to him with the other and mouthed ‘you’ to him.

Adam sat forward, breathing rapidly and put his head in his hands. ‘This did not just happen,’ he told himself.

Alex stopped the car. “Is something wrong? You look like you just saw a ghost.” He pounded the steering wheel and repeated the question.

There was no way he would tell his dad what he had seen. “No, I’m fine,” he said flatly. “I think the pain is getting to my head, that’s all.” He lifted his head and stared straight ahead. “Let’s get out of here now.” He wished he were driving so he could press the accelerator and speed like a bat out of hell.

Alex drove to the cemetery exit. “Well, we’re headed to the pharmacy next.” He laughed and added, “then the gun store. I need more bullets and I’m thinking I’ll buy a special gold one to shoot that hawk when I see it on our property.”

Adam and his father were gone. Simone heard and felt every insult they did to her and her grave. She had reached out to Armani and pleaded with him to help her but he was in a deep sleep. He would wake to become a vampire. He thought it was temporary but it was forever. She knew because her spirit was connected to his, even in death.

Simone’s heart ached. She was dead but her spirit was not at rest. Why did Adam hate her so much? The night he killed her was etched in her memory; the stone cold look on his face, the hatred blazing in his eyes and the way he talked to her, calling her a whore. Why would he say these things? He had always been her friend since childhood. They would play games like make believe for hours on end and share secrets.

Deep in her soul she knew the reason. Adam fell in love with her and she didn’t share those feelings with him. Jealousy and anger were a deadly combination. He never failed to announce his hatred of Armani. Even when she and Armani would visit Adam, he was never civil towards Armani, only cold and rude.

She should’ve seen the warning signs but she never would have believed in a hundred years that Adam and his father would end up killing her and torturing Armani.

Oh, how she missed Armani. She felt his presence when he visited her at the cemetery. Her heart ached to reach out to him, touch him and hold him one last time. Raised to believe in life after death and your soul going to Heaven or Hell, she found it odd that she was stuck somewhere in the middle. Dead, but her soul lived. She wished her soul could roam the streets like they do in movies. ‘The Crow’ came to mind. He came back to settle the score and get revenge on the men who killed his fiancée. Why couldn’t that happen with her? What was stopping her soul from rising from this grave and making things right? She could see Armani again. He may not know she’s near him, but she would be able to sleep next to him, hold him and love him.

Could it be that she needed to believe and have faith that this could happen? Really believe it. The mind has power to do the unimaginable if only the person has one hundred percent faith in what they believe they can make happen. That was it. She needed to focus her attention on rising from this dark cold grave. It would be a process. The ability to move her limbs did not exist. Her eyes could open and close but she assumed this was because the eyes are the windows of the soul and her soul was very much alive. She looked up and the only thing she saw was darkness and the outline of the frilly material within her casket. She needed to be with Armani.

A tear slid down her cheek. Maybe The Dark Ones could take a dead mortal person and make them a vampire. Was it possible? She closed her eyes and prayed that miracles did happen.

F
illed with rage
Victor soared high above the city lights and busy streets filled with fresh blood calling out to him to drink to his content. Feasting on human’s wasn’t an option right then. Katrina dare defy him and his one rule. No one dare do this to the Master of The Dark One’s. Trust in people was something he never had, even as a mortal. His parents forsake him and anyone he reached out to as a young boy just turned their heads.

Almost five hundred years ago people didn’t want to hear stories of a young boy being tortured and abused. From the church to his school they would all say the same thing, ‘Come on now young Victor. These things don’t happen to children and especially not you. Your parents would never do such a thing. They are pillars of this community,’ they always told him. Once he crossed over and was a vampire oh, how he enjoyed killing his parents and everyone who had ignored his cries for help over the years. Now, he feared he would have to destroy Katrina, the only person who listened to him and who had sparked a flame of hope about mankind within his soul.

Reliving his childhood memories drained what hope was left. Katrina had been a glimpse of hope but not anymore. He couldn’t trust her and for that she would be severely punished, even killed. It would be a shame because she would have been a perfect companion for him as he planned on turning her to a vampire and making her his beautiful Queen.

He saw his house in the distance, his keen sense of sight allowing him to see that all the lights were on. Vampires had the eyes of a hawk seeing things with microscopic definition, color and sharpness. Keen ears were also a blessing. Victor was a mile from his home and could hear Katrina’s heavy breathing coming from his lair, her heartbeat rapid. He smelled her fear and it excited him along with fueling the fire of his anger. He wanted to kill her, to drain the lifeblood out of her while she screamed for mercy.

He was raging and he was home. The front door opened the same time his feet touched the ground. He smiled, tracing his fangs with his long tongue. Katrina was in for a surprise. He wasn’t going to let her manipulate her way out of this one. If he let her do that it would show that he didn’t mean what he said and wasn’t a vampire of his word. He wouldn’t allow that to happen. Never had he done that in his lifetime and he wasn’t about to start now.

“Honey, I’m home!” Victor boomed, chuckling at his sense of humor. That seemed to be what mortals said to their lovers when they returned home. He had seen it many times on TV and even heard it said by the despicable child abusers he took great pleasure in killing. He chuckled remembered a time when a young couple, too young for a child of two years old, would say this to each other upon arriving at their home. They were so sweet to each other but not the poor helpless child they had accidentally brought into this world. ‘Our son is a mistake, an accident,’ they would tell each other. His ears rang every time he heard them say this when describing their son. Many nights Victor spent time in the young boy’s nursery singing lullabies to him. The little boy lay beaten and bruised, his sweet eyes vacant with emptiness and the longing to be loved.

Victor cursed, face red with anger. He should’ve killed those two parents sooner than he had but he was a new vampire then and didn’t know any better. His moment came to kill them and the pleasure was all his.

The young father had come home from work and said the three words Victor had grown to hate, ‘Honey, I’m home.’ When he said this Victor appeared from the shadows, smiling.

“Really honey, you’re home. That’s going to prove to be quite a shame.” Victor seethed.

Fear was written all over the man’s face. “W-w-who are you? What do you want?” He stuttered and stammered. “Get out of my house.” He said pointing to the door, fingers shaking.

Victor waved a finger at the man. “Tsk-tsk, you shouldn’t be so rude to a guest. Your wife invited me in, my friend.” He smiled whipping his black cape behind him with one powerful sweep of his hand. “By the way, your son is beautiful. He’s such a nice child. You’re lucky to have him.”

The man charged Victor. Grabbing him by the throat Victor threw him into the wall. “Now that wasn’t nice. You should really think of the consequences of your actions before doing them.”

The man glared at Victor. “If you harm a hair on my sons head I will kill you, man. You hear me. Where’s my wife? Where’s my son?” Rising to his feet he rubbed the back of his head.

“Did that hurt? Please, forgive me.” Victor seethed. “I enjoyed it very much.” He winked and added, “I bet your son hates getting his head banged against the wall, too.”

The man tried to walk past Victor but Victor grabbed his arm, jerking him to a halt. “Not so fast. I will show you your wife and son. They are safe and resting peacefully.”

Jerking his arm out of Victor’s grip he stared at him. “You’re crazy. Be gone now or I’ll call the police.”

“I am the police. Justice for all is my motto,” Victor smiled baring his fangs. “Now shut-up and come with me.”

Victor floated up the steps, dragging the man behind him.

They reached the top of the stairs and Victor faced the man. “Does anyone respect people who bully, beat and dominate others?” Victor asked. “Do you respect me?”

The man stared at Victor too frightened to utter a word.

“I didn’t think so.” He turned the knob to the toddler’s room and said, “Let’s see what junior is up to, shall we?”

The man swallowed hard. He despised his son but no one was supposed to know. Who was this man, this creature? He shuddered when he remembered the fangs and evil gleam in his eyes. Did he know he beat his son? That his wife was involved as well?

The door creaked open. Victor smiled seeing the little boy sleeping in the crib. Over the past few weeks he had grown attached to the boy. That sweet boy would never be abused again once Victor was through with his mission.

Pulling the man into the room he forced him to look at his sleeping son.

The man sighed, relieved his son was OK. “Alright, so are you going to leave us in peace now?”

Victor rolled his head back and laughed. He straightened his cloak, faced the man and grabbed his shoulders squeezing hard. “You amuse me. What’s the story, you piece of shit? Let me guess, you want to be the only one who hurts him?” He asked pointing to the sleeping child. “Does it give you some sort of thrill, a rush? God forbid, some sort of high?”

The man stared into Victor’s eyes and cringed. “I don’t hurt him.”

Victor wrapped his hands around the man’s throat. “Don’t you dare look me in the eyes and lie to my face. I’ve seen what you do and
I’m here to avenge justice for the innocent child. In time you would eventually kill him, so today I’m killing you.” A satisfied smile crossed his lips. “Say your prayers buddy.” He tightened his grip on the man’s throat.

The man gasped for air his eyes bulging like two boiled eggs. “Where’s my wife?” He asked when Victor let go of his throat.

Victor wiped his hands on his cloak and said, “Glad you asked. Come with me.” He ordered. “We’re going to the basement for this one. I think she may be doing some canning or something.”

The man tried to be friendly, as if that would save him. “It’s too damn late to be friendly to me.” Victor spat. He was not a vampire of second chances. He had a mission and accomplished it. It was as plain and simple as that.

“My wife makes the best homemade strawberry jam and I bet she’ll even give you a few jars to take home.” He said faking a smile.

“Wipe that sick smile off your disgusting face,” Victor said and slapped the man’s face with his backhand. “You should’ve been kind to your son when you had the opportunity from his birth. I regret not finding you sooner.” He said through gritted teeth.

“If you hurt my wife I’ll . . . .” The man began.

Victor laughed. “You’ll what? Kill me? Come on now, we both know that today is your Judgement Day. I’m your executioner.” Pushing the man in front of him he shoved him down the steps. The man toppled over a couple times and landed with a thud. The fall wasn’t enough to kill him but it inflicted pain. “Next time go a little faster. I am not a being of patience and I have none for the likes of you.” Eyes blazing red he stared at the man and drifted down the steps. “Your wife is waiting and I really don’t think it’s polite to keep her waiting.” Victor said and picked up the man by the arms.

The man screeched in pain. “You broke my bones, you bastard.”

“That’s not very nice,” Victor said. “Look, I see a light on in the canning room. I do have a preference for sustenance of the color red.” He smiled.

Walking toward the door, dragging the man behind him, Victor called out. “Honey, I’m home.” He kicked the door open and set the man on his feet. “There she is.” Victor was pleased with his work. It was art at its finest.

The man stared. “What have you done?” He asked, the color draining from his face.

His wife sat in a chair, her neck slashed, her head slanted to the left hanging by a thread. Blood pooled from her wound. In her hands she held two cans of strawberry jam.

“What does it look like I did?” Victor asked walking to the woman and taking the two jars out of her hands. “I guess these are mine to take, correct?”

“You bastard, I’m going to kill you!” The man screamed, tears falling. “Why?”

“Why not is a better question, don’t you think?” He grabbed the jars and stood in front of the man. “I guess I’ll let you keep these since your wife won’t be around to make any more jam. Take them.” He ordered.

The man grabbed the jars with shaky hands, tempted to throw them at Victor.

“If you do that I will kill you,” Victor said reading his mind. “Open them.” He ordered.

Victor smiled like a child watching his playmate open a box of Cracker Jack’s wondering what surprise would be in the box. “Hurry,” Victor said impatiently. “Consider it my departing gift to you.”

The man’s hands shook like a hanging picture during an earthquake. He twisted the cap, opening the first jar and then the second. He looked inside and saw his wife’s big brown eyes jiggling like Jell-O lying on top of the strawberry jam. He dropped the jars, turned his head and puked. “You sick son of a bitch!” The man screamed.

Victor crossed his arms. “Now why did you do that? I thought you and I would take the jam upstairs and make some toast.” He smirked and laughed.

The man barreled himself at Victor, hitting him hard. Victor staggered backward and toppled onto the man’s wife knocking her bloody corpse off the chair.

Victor looked at the man. How dare he attack the most feared vampire of all time? “Why in the world would you do that? Have you no respect for the dead?” He asked and stood. “I used to be an excellent soccer player. Watch this.” Victor said laughing.

Raising his foot he kicked the woman’s head tearing it from her body. It flew across the room, hit the wall with a smack and rolled forward a couple inches. Victor stared at the man, eyes red, fangs bared and asked, “Do you want to play a game with me?”

The man turned to run but not before Victor grabbed him by the neck. “Let’s make this quick. You’ve already wasted enough of my time.” His face inches from the man’s face, he inhaled. “I smell blood mixed with fear.”

“I won’t tell anyone. Leave now. Please.” The man begged.

“Just like you thought your son would never tell anyone. Am I right?” Victor asked. “By the way, I am not a vampire who forgives.” Victor tilted the man’s head back. The man screamed.

Victor’s fangs pierced the man’s flesh and Victor used his sharp fangs to tear the man’s neck from one end to the other barely missing his jugular.

The man coughed and gagged trying to breathe. Victor sat him up in the same chair his wife had died in. “I’ll remember you and see you in Hell.” Victor pierced the man’s eye with his long sharp nail and held the nerve behind the eye.

The man screamed in agony. “Stop!”

Victor pulled the man’s eye and it snapped like a rubber band when it breaks and held it in front of the man’s face. “They say the eyes are the windows of the soul and evil should be plucked from a man.” He paused, looking at the ceiling and tapped his finger on his cheek. He placed his hands on the dying man’s chair and stared into his remaining eye. “And when I looked in your eyes I saw pure evil, my friend, so I’m removing them before you pass on to eternal damnation.” He raised his hand and shoved his sharp nail into the man’s eye and ripped it out. The man leaned over and threw up. “You’re close to death. I’ll be kind and help you get there a little faster. Sit back and try to relax.”

The man opened his mouth and tried to scream but nothing came out. Death was knocking on his door and it wouldn’t be long. Victor knew he had to kill him soon but first he wanted to make sure the abuser would remember his name in the afterlife.

“Peek-a-boo,” Victor said. “I’ve seen you play that with your son, you monster. Now it’s my turn to play it with you.” Victor’s voice dropped a few octaves. “My name is Victor Ramirez and I am a vampire. I am a member of the Dark One’s, a strong and growing army of vampire’s who invoke justice on people who go unnoticed or slip through the cracks of the justice system. Revenge is our specialty and now death is your final destination. You have abused your son long enough and I won’t stand to see your son suffer through another day.” Victor pulled a knife out of his pocket and playfully poked the man’s chest.

The man jerked his head back. “Please . . .” he coughed spitting blood from his mouth.

“No need for manners. My will be done.” Victor said and plunged the knife forward penetrating deep into the man’s heart. The man’s head rolled back and came forward. He was dead. Victor withdrew the knife, wiped it off on his cloak and threw it aside.

Mission accomplished. Next was to get the boy to a safe haven. He flew to the bedroom where the boy slept in a trance. Victor released him from the spell and picked him up. The boy smiled at Victor. Victor smiled back holding the boy to his chest in a protective embrace. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Victor opened the bedroom window and took flight. The boy squeeled and shrieked with delight as Victor flew through the air with him in his arms. Moments later they were at a large cathedral with a gold dome atop. Victor landed and stood holding the boy outside of the great building. He used his powers and summoned a nun to answer the door. He also embedded the story of this little boy and his abuse into the nun’s mind. He didn’t want to be seen. The nuns and priest’s sensed the evil in vampires as the undead were considered ‘Spawns of Satan’. Victor was in no mood to get bathed in holy water tonight. Not on his first assignment. He had to please his master, Julius, the vampire who saved his life.

Leaning over Victor kissed the boy’s cheek. “Everything will be fine. You are safe now.”

The little boy looked at Victor with big brown eyes and smiled. Victor heard the nun’s footsteps coming from down the hall and he ascended into a high tree.

He watched the nun pick up the little boy cradling him to her large bosom. A tear slid down Victor’s cheek. It felt good to see bad things have a good ending knowing he helped make the difference. He knew the boy would be safe and everything would be OK for him. He smiled and flew into the night sky.

That was when his heart was full of love and goodness, but over time his heart had grown cold and black. Love couldn’t win when love was dead.

Victor paced back and forth upstairs reliving his first justice kill and remembering that sweet little boy he saved.

Katrina heard Victor pacing and her heartbeat quickened. What was going through his mind? What was he thinking about? She huddled into the corner trying to hide. She slicked her hair back telling herself to relax. Maybe Victor would just give her a good scolding and not hurt or kill her.

The basement door slammed into the wall. Katrina jumped and folded her arms trying to protect herself. Shaking, she squeezed her knees to her chest, tears flowing. ‘I’m going to die,’ she thought. She unfolded her shaking arms, making a cross over her chest saying a quick Hail Mary. There were un-confessed sins in her life and with no priest around she had to trust that the Virgin Mary would confess them to God for her.