Chapter 9

Saul paused only long enough to punch the controls for the loading dock's doors. The motor whined. The door just enough for him to slip under it and tumble out onto the sandy cement below. He didn’t stop to see if he was followed. He just continued as fast as his feet and disjointed equilibrium would carry him. He kept his hand pressed against the wounds on his shoulder and he mis-stepped every few paces. But he was consumed solely by the thought of escape to the rendezvous, and how his proselytes, if any survived, would be punished for their unaccountable ignorance.

Yamone led the rest of the Hunters. She ran through the halls after their fleeting leader, her arms burdened with the statue of the Unnamed one. She could sense that the prophet’s mind was in complete disarray. Though she had not the power to read thoughts, she could not work her own particular psychopathy on him either; he was already oblivious. She could feel sweat in the deep grooves on her face moving like irrigation to her chin. She cursed and covered the image that surfaced with such thoughts with her mask. The familiarity of the stifling porcelain and the smell of her own breath calmed her a little.

Batzuga and Zourdan were somewhere behind, slowed by their own burdens. Waofin clutched feebly at his shattered shoulder, and stumbled along in tune with Batzuga’s supporting bulk. Every so often Yamone could hear Batzuga hiss in sharp pain and the slapping of Waofin’s limpish feet as they came to a halt to allow the healing hunter a chance to regenerate more of his torn torso. Zourdan carried the rest of the gear, the censor, the Warding Cross, and across his back, the small generator they had used to power the fluorescents in the ceiling.

A smell of stagnant urine wafted up from the recessed stairwell.

The streetlight was blocked by an approaching figure. Saul crouched as close as he could get to the unsavory wall without touching it and waited.

“That bastard better be down there, I swear I had it up to here with his bullshit,” said Batzuga who followed his rant with a blasphemous curse.

“Don’t swear you miserable troll’s son, and thou shan't use the lord’s name in vain either!” bellowed Saul, irate. The remains of the Children of the Scion stumbled down the cracking-concrete stairs and clustered around their leader. Saul snatched the silver cross from Zourdan, then pointed to a thickly-barricaded door at the bottom of the stairs. Zourdan slipped his claws into two pre-cut grooves and pried the barricade from the entranceway. The others slipped inside

The Children of the Scion sat on their makeshift cots with faces flush with worry and the hurts of failed combat. Yamone disappeared into the derelict bathroom and returned with a scrap of cloth and a tin can’s worth of hot water. She waved a hand in front of Waofin, setting in his mind an image of relaxing comfortably on his cot awaiting the darkness of sleep. A smile crossed his face and he laid back. With as much care as her trembling hands could muster, she slid her thin pocket knife into his shoulder and wiggled the bullet out from its berth. She was careful not to create any new cuts in his bruised skin, occasionally stopping to staunch the flow of blood to the hurt. She was rewarded with a twinkle of bloody metal in the moonlight.

Saul growled as softly as an angry word could be spoken, “What do you people think you were up against? Your mothers? I have never seen such pitiable-”

“FUCK you, man,” answered the insolent Batzuga. “You fucked up just the same as us. Running? You ran, and that’s bitch pitiful right there.”

“How dare-” began Saul.

“Ey, I’m talkin, so just listen, aight?” retorted Batzuga. “It’s time I said a few words to our glorious leader here. So what? You had a little fucking scratch? A bite? You ever been disemboweled before? You can’t fight when your guts are free to the winds man; You CAN’T. So don’t bring in here no bullshit, just tell us what to do.”

Saul blinked nonplussed. “I am your leader, your Prophet, I carry the blessings of the Scion in my very flesh. But as time is quickly dwindling and I can not sit here and tell you all of your disgusting mistakes. We must not let the creature get away.”

Batzuga snorted, his lips moving without sound.

“Waofin, did Rinno do his part? Were you able to do as I asked?”

Waofin spoke as if from a dream, “Aye, sir. He got all of his rats a-runnin’; A couple of them he sent outside of the factory. Real nice bike there, shame it had to go crunch beneath those big ratty jaws.” Yamone frowned as Waofin sighed and shifted, and caused her to lose a small fragment of bullet.

“Good. It seems at least one of you fools is capable of following instructions. Too bad that’s one of the ones that died,” replied Saul.

“What?” exclaimed Waofin, coming completely out of sedation and sitting up. Two stitches tore through his skin and blood welled anew.

The prophet turned, his body framed in the street-lit open door- “Explain it to him, I’ve got work to do-” then exited the room.

As he passed Zourdan, he said in tones only the two could hear, “no one leaves, no one enters, understood?”

Zourdan nodded then Saul disappeared into the night.

---

Col’s eyes opened to familiar darkness. Unfamiliar was the warmth against him, a soft inhaling body drooped in chains, head limp on his shoulder. His mind raced over their time together: Laid-back evenings atop a stony mesa staring at the panoply of stars above; Twilit roamings through downtown Theyeark, enjoying the mix-and-match of people more than the effects of the bright lights or the myriad of street performers earning their keep.

Col brushed her smooth cheek gently with his fingertips,drawing a crescent from cheek-bone to the vertex of her jaw and finally to the tip of her chin. He had been so tired of quick, one time meals.

Col licked the tip of his finger and drew a symbol of harsh angles on the back of Kandais' neck, then sank a fang into the same tip to draw forth blood. He retraced the symbol in blood, feeling the heat of the binding spell on his palm as his finger made its deft movements. Kandais shuddered and moaned loudly. Col stepped back as she made several convulsive movements. A light showed red and bright from the back of her neck. She released a low whimper then fell silent.

He then twisted the chains like foil to break her bonds and plied the shackles from her wrists and ankles. He lifted her into his arms. Her breaths were shallow and calm, her lips, a shy and innocent shade of pink, were parted slightly. Col thought first to press his lips to hers but decided that he would allow her to make her decision of acceptance or fearful ignorance before he attempted thus again. He grimaced as he felt the pull of her soul on his heart, not unlike the weight of her in his arms.

---

The keys, Kandaishad locked the keys in her house again. Such a silly thing to do (she had always been rather absent minded). But Mark was there, and he was brave enough to go into the alley, and tall enough to pull down the ladder to the fire escape. She was so lucky to have him.

Then the ladder slipped out of his hand and hit her shoulder. Did it? There was something else there, like a dream superimposed, where they merely walked up the stairs occasionally breaking into bouts of kissing that could not be delayed. And she opened the door with her keys. Then the awkwardness of new love, the embrace of passion, and pain in her shoulder spinning her into a world of blurry giddiness

What followed was more a nightmare. Waking in bloody sheets. Showering and donning only under-clothes before the sound of glass breaking startled her with its nearness. Men… freaks… Hunters, they said. They kidnapped her in the early morning, took her in her under-clothes to an abandoned factory. They chained her to a wall and left her there while they planned to kill Mark, and joked that he was a Vampire.

Waiting. Slow passing time. She was ignored, except for times when the Man in the Suit was absent, when the young ones of normal appearance paid special attention to her. Neither was strong or brave enough to come too close, but spoke of how they'd love to allow their hands to wander. As night fell the Hunters became extremely excited. All but the Man in the Suit and the Woman in the Mask disappeared into the factory. Then there were screams, and gunshots, and a demon bathed in golden light descending from above. Finally a familiar pain and descent into black loveliness.

---

Kandais woke to the sound of flowing water and the smell of wet rot. Someone or something was carrying her, but she could not tell who it was in the rank darkness. She inhaled to scream, but found herself shifting in her captor's arms. A cold hand pressed itself against her mouth.

“Shh..” said a voice, “it would be.. unwise... to draw attention to ourselves.”

“Mark?” She asked.

“Col,” he answered.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked, not sure what to think.

“Home- my home. You will be safer there.”

“Your lair,” she blurted.

“HOME, I live in a home like you do.”

“Then why are we in this cave?”

“We are in the sewers. The streets are too dangerous for you at this time of night.”

“Let me go right now, you... you... cursed thing!”

“Somehow I doubt you want to walk barefoot in the sewers.”

“You live in a sewer?”

“Those-” his voice tuned to a disgusted tone- “Hunters, destroyed my bike. There’s a ways to go, and while I would be perfectly safe on my own, it would be hard to keep you out of harms way.”

She caught a chill at the mention of Hunters. “What happened to them, why were they after you? And why did they come after me?”

“The Hunters escaped. The Holy-man was stronger than I thought. I should have been more prepared.”

“Holy-Man? You mean the guy in the suit?”

“Yea, he had powers like a Zealchare, a sort of... holy vampire. But I don't think he was one, 'cause if he was, I’m pretty sure I’d be dead right now.”

“He said he was a Hunter...” said Kandais, trying to keep from getting swamped in terms. She was still finding all of this hard to believe.

“Yes, Hunters. I’m not really sure what they are. From what I hear, they act like humans, but they have powers like other creatures. They were after me 'cause that's what they do, they hunt quote: ‘evil’."

“But why me?”

“Bait. They must have traced me and found you. It was kinda hit-or-miss if I would come to claim you, but I did.”

“Why did you come for me?” she asked then added before the pause was longer than a second. “Wait, let me guess, you were hungry...”

“I am a vampire,” said Col.

“So what does that make me? Am I going to be a vampire too?” She asked, with more sarcasm than worry.

“It doesn’t work that way. If it did you’d better believe there would be an army of blood thirsty ladies prowling the streets,” answered Col, with a certain degree of pride in his voice.

“That many?”

“I’m glad you’re taking all this so well. I figured I’d have to spend a lot longer convincing you that you weren't dreaming all this.”

“Mar.. Col.. I think I passed that state about ten hours ago when I stabbed the green-skinned-guy with a kitchen knife and he laughed at me. That’s not to mention the fact that I saw you fly into the room and beat the crap out of four weirdos with a sword that came out of your hand."

“The wings came with time, the sword is a mystery to me,” said Col.

There was a pause long enough for Kandais to realize that Col’s jaunty stride made only a soft sound in the waters below. She wondered where exactly in the network of sewer tunnels they were, which only sparked more wonder of how the system worked in the first place.

The sound of running water grew louder as they traveled along. Kandais tried to breath through her mouth to avoid the stench of sewage but found that it just made her taste it. The leather of Col's jacket warmed with her skin and felt smooth below her knees and shoulders. She crossed her arms to keep them from hanging and dipping into the questionable waters below. The jostling of Col's footsteps reminded her of a time long ago when she would awake in her father's arms after a long car ride. She found it very hard with that comforting image in mind, to fear Col or hate him for what he was; However she decided she would learn all she could before making a final judgment. Until then she would play the reluctant companion.

“You know you haven't yet answered my question.”

“What’s that?”

“How many women?”

“Honestly, many more than I can count. But I have lived this... life... for over fifty years,” said Col. From the sounds his jacket was making Kandais got the impression that he was turning his head about every few feet. She craned her neck back to see how far she could see in both directions. Her eyes had adjusted but the darkness of the sewer was too prevalent for her to see very far past Col's arm. She could make out the curve of the tunnel to some degree, but besides that, there were just circles of darkness.

“I think you should get on my back,” said Col abruptly.

“What? why? what's wrong? Don't think for a second I'm going to step foot in that disgusting water down there.”

“I believe we are being followed. It will be easier for me to run if you are on my back.”

“Run? I thought you were an all powerful Vampire...”

“That I am. But there are things down here that might not be too happy with me invading their territories.”

“Oh what? Some lowly Sewlie? Maybe an alligator or two?”

“Well, I dunno what a Sewlie is, and yea there may be a gator or two down here; But I was referring to things about eight feet tall, with mouths big enough to swallow you whole. Things that look at supernatural beings like myself as if they are cupcakes. Those we would not want to meet.”

“Oh my God. What have you gotten me into?”

“More than you'd ever have bargained for, Kandais. But we can deal. Here....” And with that Col swiftly shifted Kandais around in his hands so that he held her upside down. She let out a small squeal of surprise and bundled up her hair so that it wouldn't fall into the mire below. Her head was dizzy with thumping rushing blood. Then Col lifted her up above his head, nearly taking a wild a kick to his head.

“Quick, put your arms around my neck,” said Col holding her upright behind him. She complied, gripping him tightly, afraid to fall. She felt Col nod.

“Much better,” he said and started to walk.

“A sewlie is a homeless person, they kinda forced them into the sewers a few years back. There was a big braw about it, back when I was a kid.”

“Ahh... that explains it,” Said Col.

“Explains what?”

“Lizzaj. Used to be more myth than commonplace. Used to be,” said Col. He stopped at a branching of the sewer tunnel. “A couple years ago they started showing up again. You see, need, desperation, fear, hunger... they do stuff to people. Here let’s take this way. It's a little longer, but it'll help us loose our tail.”

“You know where we are?”

“Below the Old district. Bad news above ground at this time of night. Gangs wage their petty little wars up there where the cops don't go too often. One of the main reservoirs is over there; shorter way but maybe we can loose the tail through here,” Col pointed off to the right. His boots crunched with every footstep, so Kandais guessed that they were walking somewhere dry. The air too was a sleight less moist, less pungent with the waftings of waste and runoff. In the dark, Kandais could make out several small boxes lining the ceiling- service lights. They must be in a service tunnel.

“So what happens next?”

“You wait for me to return, I have business to attend to this evening.”

“Late night snack?”

“No... it’s none of your business so don't worry about it.”

“Oh so now you get all secretive, Come on now out with it.”

“My master went missing, I gotta find him.”

Kandais gulped. She ventured, “your master? You mean you're not the only one?”

“As far as a vamp goes, I'm a baby. Masters teach, and keep the new-bloods from getting out of hand. Can't draw too much attention, gotta stay hidden.

“I can understand how all of this is pretty hard to digest. You were always told the things in the night were only your imagination. That wasn't totally a lie, only the words of someone who never had to deal with this,” Col said. “I, uh, wanna apologize to you Kandais, I never meant to get you wrapped up in my shit. But lately things aren't going as I thought they would.”

“I guess I can't blame you too much, but I ain't gonna ever let you live this down, you know that right?” she replied.

“Well don't get too forgiving yet, there is more you should know...” Col started.

“Shit, Col, you said I wasn't going to be a thing like you? You bit me you bastard and then told me a ladder hit me.”

“It doesn't work like that, babe. That's why you don't see too many Vampires walkin' the streets,” said Col defensively, then his tone dropped to something of a whisper. “Yet, I can't afford to have you wandering off anywhere. I gotta make sure you are safe. Those Hunters are probably still looking for me, and so probably looking for you too. So I had to change you-”

“So the bite didn't make me a fucking vampire but you did?”

“Would you let me finish, woman?” said Col who never did like to be interrupted. “You are now mine, a Blood-bound, my Serf.”

“What the fuck is that? Your slave?” said Kandais, her voice suggesting a degree of disbelief.

“Yea, something like that. Your soul is bound to mine, until death.”

“So your slave. And you think that’s going to keep me from running away from you? You are a fucking Vampire, Col, I want to be as far from you as I can get, as soon as I can get away.”

Col was silent, which made Kandais wonder if she had hurt his feelings. The sounds of water were all around her now, moving dripping, burbling. Col stopped again. Kandais heard shuffling of leather and assumed he was rubbing his chin in thought.

“A far as you are concerned it's not so bad a thing. There are others, Serfs, back at my 'lair',” he said, the last word dripping with sarcasm. “They'll help you make the choice.”

“What choice?”

“Life or death.”

“Jesus...” said Kandais. She felt Col cringe slightly at the mention of that name. “Why not just kill me now then- get it over with. You're a bastard Col, save me only to kill me. I will not be damned for you.”

“Like I said, your choice. If I were you I wouldn't make a decision just yet.” Col jolted to a stop.

“Ok, here's a pretty long jump, so pull your legs up and hold on tight.” He said. Kandais lifted herself up as far as she could without risking a forward tumble. His cold hands clasped her thighs. Certain thoughts crossed her mind but she shook them away. Things were different now. Then she felt an odd weightlessness and heard a deep sploosh as Col landed. “The water here is up to my shins, but you should be ok. It's clean water anyway, this pipeline is fed by the reservoirs and goes into the main distribution chamber. Only a few more minutes until home.”

Col walked a few more steps then stopped again. “Good, whatever was following us has gone, or at least it didn't go down the same tunnel,” he said then kept going.

“Mark,” she said then corrected herself, “Col. Those women... did you love any of them?”

“There was one, long before all of this. But that's a long-gone story for some other time, 'Dais.”

“Did you, Do you love me?”

“I don't know.”

Kandais unconsciously tightened her grip around his neck. “What but you, We, I...”

“You know I don't really breathe so chocking me is not going to solve anything.” He said, his voice a little strained. “But you must understand. Love is a human emotion, an irrational attraction enhanced by a bunch of seemingly rational urges. I don't feel love or hate, Only Joy and Anger, Tiredness and Pain. It may not seem of much difference to you but there it is. I like being around you, but love is an impossibility.”

Kandais choked back surprise-mixed sorrow at what she had saved and given to a being of darkness and cold emotion. It was as if the dark of the sewers laughed at her, and danced with heavy steps upon her shoulders. As they walked the next few minutes her mind reeled: To lose, to gain. To live, to die. What was the future to her?

Without warning a voice spoke loud, echoing through the relative emptiness

“Be Still!”

Col abruptly stopped. Kandais clutched at his neck and squeezed his ribs for fear of falling. Below, a light shined in brilliant rays around Col's feet. He grunted slightly and shivered but remained standing. The sewer tunnel was lit around for a few yards with soft white light, showing ancient steel curves occasionally broken by arched offshoots. Col lifted a hand and out shot a curved sword that reminded Kandais of something she had seen in an old Kurosawa flick, except this one was white with a thin pinkish film. He pointed it downwards, and made as if he were going to knock aside the blinding light but every time the sword neared, it would somehow turn aside. Col grunted with frustration.

Col cursed; Another of the damned Hunter’s traps and he'd walked right into it! Another cross, silver with glowing golden writing. Col closed his eyes from the brilliance, but still the image burned his vision; flowing Latin and otherworldly scripts crossed even this darkness. He willed his feet to rise but could not control them. He could hardly keep from falling to his knees.

Kandais was conflicted. She realized Col was in trouble, but she was still mired in what she knew him to be, a horrible creature; And what was more, he had dragged her into this horrible world of death and fear and shivering nightmares. She had not seen much of it, but could only assume that this was simple beginnings; Monsters would never cease to invade her waking mind; She would never again be safe in ignorance. A wave of hatred flowed through her with the sickening thought of hell's fires awaiting her in the hereafter. Her hatred turned to sadness, then the sadness dissolved into panic-tinged fear.

From an arch stepped a man in polished black shoes and a pair of sewage-stained, black trousers, and a wrinkled white dress shirt thin with sweat. Kandais couldn't help blurting, “The Holy Man!”

The man in question kept his eyes hidden behind the brim of his hat as he slowly made his way forward, more concerned with walking with dignity in the knee-high water than with speed. His features were ghastly in the white light, becoming more and more defined with every step into the ambiance. Held in his hand was the peak of a wrought iron crucifix, thin with swirling gold and silver filaments, its longer end cast over his shoulder.

“Stay or flee, Maiden, it is no concern to me,” he said as he approached. “My business is with the Cursed-one. I have heard what he has done. Once I have dealt with him, you will be free.”

“Your confidence well exceeds your power, mortal,” said Col, bringing his sword to ready.

“I have dealt with many of your kind, cursed creature,” replied Saul now a yard away from Col. “They all speak in fiery tones right until the end. Then I show those wretched creatures the path to hell and give them a message for Satan. That Saul Dasht Vottel is on his way to finish what GOD started!”

At 'God' the man lifted high his staff and brought it down on Col. Col parried it aside weakly then brought his weapon back to defend. The staff crashed down on him again, but he held it with a crosswise sword.

Kandais's mind screamed in protest, but instinct had taken control. Her mind tried feebly to show her images of Vampires' cruelty and lustful abandon; to show her future as a slave to the creature's every whim: Feeding his every desire without complaint. It showed her tears as she descended into dark fires amidst dancing demons and nameless abominations. Yet something of intangible power begged her to aide Col. It would not let her forget how though his soul was cursed- his fate of certain unavoidable doom- he had never done anything to harm her. She couldn't let him fall.

As the first blow landed she slipped from Col's back and kicked the crucifix forward. And just as sudden as her action, the sewer rang in chaos. First came the sounds-

“NO!” From Col.

Then something like, “Harg!” from Saul.

And finally a wet roar from behind the holy man and the sound of a large mass breaking the water's surface.

Saul turned to face a being twice his height and bulk. He cried out again and stabbed it with his staff. Kandais felt herself being gripped about the waist and thrown across Col's shoulder. She caught an awful sight of the Holy Man held high in the jaws of a slimy black creature. It grasped his flailing limbs in its slippery, webbed paws and forced him downward. Kandais began to scream and continued even after Col's run took them into an offshoot of the main, as the creature's swollen, distended belly opened into a wide, toothy maw and Saul was shoved within.

Col grasped the first rung he could find and pulled himself up. One man would not be enough to satisfy such a monstrous thing, especially not when it had sensed the woman. He could hear it snuffling off in the distance, trying to catch her scent. Slapping sounds of it coming out of the deep and into the shallow waters of the tributary tunnel passed Col just as he burst the cover from the manhole and tossed Kandais out. He climbed out and onto an unkempt street of the Old District and slammed the lid shut beneath him with a sigh of relief.