Fat Vampire Value Meal (Books 1-4 in the series) (50 page)

He paused, scanning the crowd. Then he said, “The Vampire Nation does not need a despot. It does not need a Deacon. But it does need a
leader
. You think you are able to determine your own path without the help of an authority, but you are not. You need someone to tell you what to do. I have spent two millennia watching the humans on this planet, and I have watched the humans of this country during my centuries here — centuries more than most of you in attendance have been alive. It is
not
every man for himself. It is
not
every man and woman created equal. There are privileged classes. There are those who are above the law and those who live beneath its heel. Their system is not perfect, but it works because there has always been someone in charge — someone who tells the others what to do. Some agree with that leader and some disagree. Some follow the rules and some willfully disobey them. But the rules
exist
. The rules are always
there
, as a benchmark to obey or to rebel against. The leader is always there, as a person to follow or oppose. The enemy is always there too, even though the enemy is manufactured by those in charge. There is always something that the people are told to hate and something that the people are told to love. There is always a threat the people are told to fear. And on one level, it’s wrong, and it’s false. But on another level, a defined — if false — good and bad and right and wrong gives the people a way to orient themselves. You can believe that the enemy is truly an enemy or you can disbelieve it, just the same as you can agree with the leader or disagree. But the enemy is
there
. The fear is
there
. And so what the humans have — here, and everywhere — is a carefully constructed artificial reality. It’s not real. It’s designed to manipulate. But regardless of all of the bad things it is, it is still a system. It is still a single point of focus for all of those people, regardless how they behave relative to it. And the system, for all the negative, artificial, manipulative things it is, is tolerable. The system, whether it is good or evil or right or wrong or real or artificial, is something that a person can live within and survive. Inside of the system, true freedom is blunted… but so is true slavery. True peace is hard to come by… but true chaos is hard to come by as well. True peace of mind is nearly nonexistent… but within the system, true terror is nonexistent as well.”
 

The crowd continued to watch Maurice, its attention absolute.
 

“Right now, the Vampire Nation faces a crisis. You are on the brink of true freedom — both from the restrictions of a government, but also from its protection. And I’m here to say to you:
You cannot handle true freedom.
You are not ready. You have proven it, both here in this room and out in the world. A system would lie to you, but most of you still need the lie. Most of you cannot handle the unblunted horror of what we are facing. You cannot handle your true natures. Philosophers have debated the nature of humanity — whether in the absence of socialization, humans are innately good and kind or innately animalistic and cruel. But there is no debating the true nature of a vampire. We are killers. We don’t create life; we end life. We do not build; we destroy. We do not grow; we hunt. In older countries, vampires have come to know their natures, and they have built their own systems, to lie to themselves and contain that nature. But you have never had to do this. You are used to having someone else define reality for you. You are used to having someone tell you what to do. You are used to someone telling you what to fear and what not to fear. Right now, you are afraid.
You need a leader to lie to you and tell you that everything will be all right.

“I do not want to lead you as Deacon,” said Maurice. “But I want to help you to find a democratic leader. I want to help this Nation to grow a new head rather than to run around headless. Take my power away from me. It’s fine. But allow me to help you put some of that power back into the right pair of hands. Let me help you keep the center together, to find a lie that will support you rather than destroy you, and then I will step aside. This Nation is sliding into chaos. This Nation is sliding into anarchy and self-determinism, and I say again,
You are not ready.
Left to your own devices, you are terrible. You are evil. You cannot truly determine what to do on your own.”
 

Maurice stopped speaking, and it took Reginald a moment to realize that he was finished.
 

“Give them a call to action,” said Reginald.
 

“I’d like to suggest a law to the Council,” said Maurice. He pointed at Brian, speaking to him directly. “Construct an election process. Make it fair and impossible to cheat. You don’t want me as your leader? Fine. Find a leader amongst you that suits you. But
find a leader.”
 

Brian stood. “I propose a law to do what he says. Any objections?”
 

“Yes,” said a voice from the floor. “I object to the idea that vampires cannot decide for themselves, and I’d like to propose an alternative course of action to what the esteemed Deacon has suggested.”
 

It was Charles. Behind him were row after row of black-helmeted Council Guard.

M
AXIMUM
M
OTHERFUCKING
K
UNG
-F
U

CHARLES AND THE GUARD ADVANCED, pushing aside the milling vampires on the arena floor. It had to be all of the Guard — the entire contingent, all in one place.
 

“Guards,” said Charles, “please take the Deacon and the pretty woman behind him into custody so that we can kill them as painfully as possible. If they resist, go ahead and kill them outright. Maurice may be old, but he can’t take on all of you.”
 

It was true. Real life wasn’t like a kung fu movie, where attackers were kind enough to come on one or two at a time. If the Guard all came for Maurice, he might kill a few of them but then would be overwhelmed.

The Guard captain next to Charles said something to him.
 

Charles replied, loud enough for the whole room to hear, “Don’t worry about the fat one. I’d like to handle that bit of unpleasantness myself.” He reached behind his back and retrieved something that he then held in his fist like a threat. Reginald looked closer. It was a sharpened wooden stake.
 

Then, in one blurring motion, Charles struck. He didn’t precisely
jump
from the arena floor up to the Deacon’s box. It was more like he was
fired
from the floor. He struck Reginald in the chest, and his momentum threw the Charles/Reginald ball toward the back of the box. Maurice and Nikki turned to react, but the Guard were already advancing, climbing the stands and the walls and the catwalks above like swarming spiders. Maurice’s head twitched in the dozen directions from which the Guard were coming, but there was nothing to do as they slowly surrounded him. They were taking their time. Maurice and Nikki were pinned in place. Any one of them could strike at any time.

And then something worse began to happen. The rest of the vampires in the arena began to rise behind the Guard. They got to their feet; they marched slowly up the steps and through the stands. Reginald could hear every seat creaking, every body stirring. Every one of the hundreds of vampires in the building was coming at them. And every vampire on Fangbook was watching, surely betting on who would die first.

Charles effortlessly pinned Reginald to the floor with one hand. Reginald’s strength was no match for Charles’s. Charles didn’t hesitate. He raised the spike, eyeing Reginald’s face and then a spot in the middle of his chest.
 

“Maurice and I made you, our little mistake, together,” said Charles. “But the difference is that I’m willing to admit my mistake and correct it.” And then he drove the stake home, into Reginald’s heart.
 

But when the stake struck Reginald’s chest, it shredded into thousands of tiny bits. Charles’s fist became a forest of splinters — some large and some small — and he screamed.
 

“Seriously,” said Reginald. “I’m the first vampire to ever think of this?” He raised the bottom of his shirt to show Charles the chain mail vest that he, like Nikki and Maurice, had been wearing for months. Then, focusing all of his strength into his arms, he gave a shove and rolled his superior girth onto his attacker, pinning Charles beneath him. Charles was strong, but he weighed half of what Reginald weighed and was at a temporary disadvantage, too pained by the hundreds of wood shards in his fist to react.
 

Then, to buy himself a few more seconds, Reginald kneed Charles in the testicles.
 

He focused on the chaos around him.
 

Everything stopped. The arena became a still-life.
 

Reginald looked around, knowing that what felt like movement of his head was just a trick of perception. He saw it all. He filed and processed the position of every one of the hundreds of people in the room. Within his awareness, he had all the time he’d need to analyze it. He could see every piece of the massive, interlocking puzzle that the Council under the Asbury had become.
 

The closest Guards were fifteen feet from Maurice. None had weapons. Weapons would get in the way. If there were still snipers at the ring of windows around the top of the arena, they might fire, but their chain mail vests made the wooden bullets irrelevant. The Guards, on the other hand, would simply use their hands and teeth to tear Maurice’s head off — something the chain mail did nothing to prevent. Maurice would be able to take down a few of them, but there were already seven within striking distance and two distinct waves behind them.
 

In Reginald’s still-life, the Guard at the front of the advancing pack had his hands hooked into claws. His fangs were out, the tips wet with blood. Maurice was standing his ground, his feet planted, his arms out, ready to spring in any direction. But
which
direction? Two Guards were coming from his right, two were coming from his left, and one was directly in front of him. One Guard was advancing from behind, and there was even one in the rafters, preparing to drop from above.
 

Nikki didn’t seem to be the primary target, but she was right next to Maurice. The eyes of at least one of the Guard were on her. Her own eyes, interestingly, were on Reginald. No matter where he seemed to move in his still-life, her eyes seemed to follow him like a trick painting. She must be actually looking right at him, wherever they were relative to each other in real time. He could see fear in her eyes, but it wasn’t fear for herself. It was fear for Reginald. He looked back to what the moment had been before he’d entered hyper-awareness. Reginald had just rolled over onto Charles. It couldn’t have been more than five seconds earlier that Charles had tried to stake him.

Nikki’s eyes on his. His eyes looking into Nikki’s.
 

Reginald suddenly felt angry. It was a hot, indignant kind of anger, totally unlike the panicky, tantrum-style anger that he usually felt. And with that thought, he realized that what he was feeling wasn’t his own anger. He was feeling Nikki’s anger, just as she sometimes felt the thirst of others in her bloodline.
 

What you’re feeling is blood ties,
Maurice had told her.
 

Reginald tried to focus on Nikki, on her blood, on his own blood, on the bond that they shared as maker and progeny.
 

Nikki
, he thought.
Extend your index finger.
 

Reginald allowed his mental focus to slip. The still-life around him ground slowly forward, like a carousel on a rusty spindle. The Guard who were advancing at human speeds in real time moved now at a pace that was barely perceptible. Two vampires in the distance who’d run for the door looked as if they were jogging, but were doing so with the posture of sprinters. Maurice’s head had been flicking around as he watched the Guard approach, and Reginald saw it now as if Maurice were in a very interesting art gallery. He looked here, there, up, down.
 

At the end of Nikki’s right hand, her index finger flicked out like the blade on a switchblade.
 

Reginald focused, and again the world ground to a halt.
 

He thought. Fortunately, he had all the time in the world to do it.
 

You’re trapped,
said an internal voice.
The fact that you can analyze every detail of your trap changes nothing
.
 

And that was totally true. If a Guard came at him, Reginald could stop and think about it for as long as he wanted, but the moment he stopped concentrating, his internal clock would sync with reality and the Guard would be on him. He hadn’t gotten any faster or stronger. If he tried to run, he’d easily be overtaken.
 

Nikki and Maurice, on the other hand, were strong and fast. If they were able to do what he could do with his mind, they’d be able to pause to analyze, then resume and react, then repeat. But they couldn’t.
 

There has to be a way to use this.
 

How?
said the skeptical voice.
You’ll only be able to watch in excruciating detail as all of you are overtaken and die
.
 

Reginald closed his eyes, which in itself was a mental device because in reality, his eyes were open. He focused on Nikki, feeling her in his veins like a presence within him. And he thought,
Nikki. Behind you, to your right side, three feet from Maurice’s left arm, there’s a Guard with his hands high, about to jump. Come in low, below his arms
.

Reginald, getting the feel for this time-stop concentration thing, defocused and watched as everything ground to slow life around him. A Guard to Maurice’s right came another step forward. The running vampires near the entrance vanished through the door. Nikki swiveled with surprising speed, squatted like a boxer coming in for an uppercut, and drove her fist through the chest of the advancing Guard.