Fire Nectar 2 (11 page)

“
H
ere now
, William. We’ve lost the fire! I thought you might wallop me with a mace, if I touched it!” Ludovico jovially called out as soon as he heard William ascending the final stair.

William smiled at his friend, his sanity returned completely. He could see Joshua sizing him up, uncertain. He could not imagine what it must be like to have seen what he had just seen, as new as Joshua was. He felt it right
–
like he did when he led his men to battle
–
to reassure the new vampire, so he winked to him and smiled as he sat. Being a good leader was part of what made him good. He loathed the part of him that lost its temper.

Joshua tilted his chin up and grinned, relaxing his slender shoulders. William was right to think him overwhelmed. So much had happened in so short a time. Ludovico continued to moan dramatically about how his head hurt – a lie, said purely for the game of it and to amuse his friends.

William scoffed, “If you trained and did something with your time other than socialize and cavort with human females, you might best me one of the days. Although I doubt it possible,” He got up and went to the fire to throw some wood on it. He could see embers still hot in the ash and stoked them until the kindling he’d tossed in, ignited.

“I’ll have you know I was Minister of Interior it Italy, William.” Ludovico announced, proudly.

“Were you now? That is something! Quite impressed with you. For how long?” William asked. Joshua’s face belied his amusement at knowing the answer would not serve.

“Four years,” Ludovico answered, and it was plain that he believed that to be a long time.

“Four years!” William guffawed as he sat down opposite them, leaning forward in disbelief. “Well now, that is a commitment of great importance. Pardonnez moi, mon ami. Pardonnez moi!”

Ludovico pretended to be put out beyond measure. “Laugh if you will. It was quite a feat. To be able to convince them to have the meetings only at night! Don’t you think I should receive some credit?”

They did not give him his satisfaction. William looked to the now vibrant blaze and confessed, “I intend to right this wrong, before he gets further out of hand. Napoleon has a brilliant mind but power has corrupted it, as it is want to do.”

“I left his cabinet when I could no longer stand behind him. He’s lost his mind. The Italians are tired of him,” Ludovico informed them. Joshua kept quiet and listened.

“He hasn’t been able to get his tiny hands on Britain yet. And he aims to make Alexander bow Russia to him even further, as he’s begun to sense resistance there. Who was once his ally, is now his target.”

Ludovico nodded and agreed, “The man is an ass and must be stopped.”

William threw out, “And what a tiny ass it is!”

Ludovico added dryly, “No wonder he wants to dominate the world. He cannot even dominate a square foot!”

All at once they were laughing again, the three of them. “His brevity of height has given him cause to prove himself a force to reckoned with. It is a complex duality. A lot can be accomplished when one has motivation,” Joshua acknowledged.

“We should coin the phrase!” Ludovico exclaimed.

“What phrase is that?” William asked, leaning back in his chair.

“The Napoleon complex!” Ludovico answered, waving his hand with an air of greatness.

“And so it is!” William’s laugh was deep and seemed to shake the room. Only Ludovico could draw out the light from his dark psyche, it seemed. Indeed, Lud reminded him of a friend he had when he was still human. He was glad of their friendship and often sought to share company with him.

“So what is it you plan to do, William?” Ludovico asked as he sat back, relaxed.

“I plan to go to Alexander and provide him with a strategy for defeat,” William said, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

“Oh, just that! La, you are incredible!” Ludovico exclaimed. “Care to tell us what it is?”

“No. Joshua, what has your face in such a pinch?”

Joshua asked, flat out, “You’re going directly to Alexander? The Czar of Russia? Do you know the man?”

“No. We have not yet met. But he is a man and a man protects his own. I will give him my strategy for defeating Napoleon, with the promise that the credit will remain his. Our talk will be in secret, and when he hears the undeniable logic of it, and how its effectiveness is inevitable, he will follow my advice. Napoleon will begin his downward spiral. I predict that he will be overthrown in two years at most. It will be bloody, but we don’t mind that, now do we?”

Lud shook his head, “No, we don’t mind that at all. I wish I had your head for war. It really is a marvelous way to hide who we are.” He looked to Joshua and added, “So many dying, and no one asking why. You see?”

Joshua nodded, impressed. “C'est genial!”

William bowed his head in thanks.

W
illiam slid
the phone into his pocket. Aja was coming. Now he had more reason to look forward to seeing his closest friends. They would all be there, save for one. He walked to the taxi line and went to the front, walking past the people who waited in it. He handed the foreman a fifty-dollar bill with a nod to get him a cab immediately. From the line, the New Yorkers swore at him and said things like, “What the hell!” “That’s bullshit.” “Get in line with the rest of us!”

He ignored them, but admired their spirit.

He got into the cab and told the driver his address. He rode in silence, staring at the passing graffiti, and his focus closed out everything around him, as well as everything in his mind, save for one question. What were they all about to face? It was heavy on his mind. At least now with Aja coming, he had something to look forward to, after they’d handled…the thing. What would happen before then, was anyone’s guess. No use in trying to plan the unpredictable. Best to let it go for now.

He looked away from the view and caught the cab driver sneering at him, eyeing his expensive suit, in the rearview window. As soon as they locked eyes, and the driver looked away, he smelled it. His senses slammed into focus. Blood. He smelled blood. It was faint but undeniable. There was blood in this cab and none of it belonged to the man behind the wheel. Why had he not noticed? Had he been that worried about his chosen family, that he’d missed it? I’m slipping, he thought, and not moving his head, he let his vampyric senses ignite. All at once, colors became more vibrant, and seemed to glow. Light refractions burst out from the radio and dashboard controls. He smelled around him. The odor of cleaning product mixed with pain threatened to overtake him - the scent of several people, but not of their perfume. No. He smelled their fear. He scanned the seat, the doors, the thick plastic divider, quickly with his eyes. He could discern the differences between wear and tear scratches, and just…tear. There had been struggles in this cab. Many of them. On the radio, Feast of Fetus’ song assaulted the air with its rage, beat out only by the hammering of the murderer’s heart, as it accelerated. Pound Pound Pound. William could smell the sweat begin to form on him. Smelled he hadn’t bathed that day, either. Great.

“How long have you been driving?” William asked, casually.

“What do you care?” the driver asked through a thick Russian accent, his eyes shifting as he negotiated the approaching toll lanes and chose the one for buses, limos and taxis.

From the way he’d looked at William’s clothing, it was clear he had a deep envy burning in him. William took that and went with it. “You don’t own this car, do you? You’re not able to pay for a ride like this. Am I right?” William smiled, leaned back and watched the man. He was mid-thirties, dark eyes, thick neck, and long nose.

“I own it,” said the driver, angrily. His eyes flashed with pride and hate.

He looked at the license and saw the driver’s name was Mikhail. “New to this country, Mikhail? Don’t respect Americans, do you?”

The foreigner glowered at him, his heart accelerating with the car.

William heard its anger and rage. He knew those feelings well. He knew from the evidence he’d seen, that this man had no idea how to control his darkness. To stare a man down is to call him out. Animal to animal. Who looks away first, is the weaker. And so William stared at him, steadily, through the rearview mirror as they crossed into Manhattan. He did not speak. He let his own constant unwavering gaze aggravate the human, until finally, they collided with oncoming traffic. Slamming into a car, swerving, the driver spun out, a hideous screech tearing from the wheels beneath them. Mikhail swore, yelled at the other driver, and hit the gas again, pushing the car to its limit as William just smiled at him from the back seat.

“What is matter with you?!” Mikhail yelled at him, coming inches within hitting a building as he turned a sharp corner going over sixty miles an hour.

“In a rush?” William asked.

“Shut up!” Mikhail growled. He hit the gas and ran a stoplight, and almost t-boned a car.

“What did they call you…a Cossack? No, that wasn’t it. A Mudak?” William taunted him, pretending to check his cuticles.

“SHUT UP!” Mikhail yelled at him, turning down a dark street, empty of pedestrians and light.

“Are you a dumbass, then? Is that why you hate being called Mudak…Mudak?” William’s body dipped forward when the car screeched to a violent stop. He chuckled, straightened up and watched as Mikhail slid an enormous knife out from where he’d stashed it beneath his seat. Impressive. Then Mikhail sprang out to yank open the back door to get at William.

“Get fuck out of car!” Mikhail bellowed, standing in the empty street.

William looked around wide-eyed, then back to Mikhail, pointed to himself and asked, “Little ole’ me?”

“Yes, you!” Mikhail reached in and grabbed William’s arm, tried to pull him out.

William scooted out, his eyes glowing, as he allowed himself to be pulled out. He let Mikhail push him toward the door of a dark building as he took out keys, his fingers clumsy with hate. Even had he been human, William would have been able to escape now. But, when people are scared, sometimes they freeze. He felt badly for those who came before him. Did they try to escape? Did they have the chance? Did they deserve this? Maybe one did. But certainly not all.

The door finally unlocked and Mikhail threatened him with the knife, “Do eet! Go!” Mikhail hissed, a weird smile on his thin lips.

Inside, William saw dried blood splattered on everything. It was on the disintegrating newspapers that littered the ground. On the walls. On the doorknob. Everywhere. None had been cleaned up. He obviously had no fear of being discovered, which meant no one else probably came here besides him. And his victims.

William listened. There were no heartbeats, save for that of a rat’s as it scurried to the safety of shadows. In another room, through a door to his left, he smelled charred flesh and ash wafting in the air. A furnace must be in there, he concluded. Interesting. And thank you.

“Nice place. Entertain here, often?” William said, and turned around to face Mikhail.

In those eyes he saw murder and knew his attacker was no longer inside of his own soul. Mikhail swore under his breath and said, his voice eerily quiet. “I work hard, everything I’ve got. I work hard! What it get for me? Driving around peoples like you! Cocky mother fuckers who have money pouring out of eyeballs, prancing around like you’re better”

William almost felt sorry for him. He nodded and understood. “Maybe we’re just enjoying what is ours, friend. Maybe it has nothing to do with you.”

“I am not your friend!” Mikhail howled and lunged at him with the knife.

William easily overtook him, plucked the knife out of his hand, grabbed him by the throat and lifted him into the air. Mikhail choked and sputtered, hanging there, his eyes stunned and trying hard to understand. He strained and pulled at William’s fingers, tried in vain to pry William’s painfully tight grip free from his neck. His feet swung in the air, legs flailing. He choked and drool oozed out his mouth as his eyes bulged from the pressure.

“How many did you kill?” William asked, calmly, as if he was asking about the weather. He showed no physical strain or exertion. The only answer he got was breathless gasps and grunts and eyeballs bouncing to the left and right. He dropped Mikhail to the ground to get an answer.

Clutching his neck, Mikhail scrambled on the floor, eyes down as he swore at him, “Fuck you, you bastard!”

William became very still then. He cocked his head to the side and simply asked, “How did you know?”

Mikhail looked up and saw the man from his cab, the man he had planned to kill, was now transformed into vampire - fangs sharp, bared, terrifying.

“My… God!” Mikhail sputtered.

“I’m no god. But I am justice. You knew I was coming. You just didn’t know my face.”

William launched himself at Mikhail. The murderer did his best to fight him off and failed. Grabbing his head, William sunk his teeth deep into the man’s temple. The neck was boring to him now. He listened as the heart throbbed in fear. He subdued Mikhail who struggled and screamed, no match for him. He drank until the arms stopped fighting, the legs stopped kicking, and the heart slowed.

Mikhail said in his final breath, “Fuck you.”

And then it was done.

No, Mikhail, Fuck you. He threw the Russian over his arm like a towel and went to find the furnace. Opening it up, he folded Mikhail’s limp, dead body and shoved it in, as though he were simply doing laundry. He turned it on and walked away.

“Should I leave a note that says, ‘you’re welcome’?” he asked the rat as it ran by and gave no answer. Walking outside, he didn’t bother to close the door. He passed by the taxi and its skewed parking job and opened doors. Let them find this place soon, he thought.

He began the walk uptown. Maybe he’d catch a cab. Who knows...