Full Moon Rising - 02 (11 page)

She was just taking aim on the advancing horde when she saw her comrades come up from behind the vampires, muzzle flashes indicating it as them and not another wave of vamps.  She saw metal flashing in the moonlight and was mesmerized as Hank became a slicing machine, cutting his way to her through the monsters that lay before him.  Shreds of clothing, sprays of black blood, great renderings of gore and brain sprayed through the night air as he sliced and slashed a path to her.

When he finally appeared before her, his blades dripped with blood, his body splattered with the remains of his enemies and Sanchez realized that she had never fired a shot from her pistol.  “Sorry it took me so long, Maria.” Hank smiled, his chest heaving from the exertion.  She realized it was the first time she had ever seen him smile.  Perhaps it was the fact that he got to turn into a human blender on their bloodsucking asses? 

“No worries, Hank.  I knew you’d make it.” She smiled back at him.

He reached out with a tentative hand and held her face. “Are you hurt?”

“No.  I’m fine.”  She said sheepishly, her face suddenly feeling flush.

“Good.”  Hank turned.  “Darren, where could these things have come from?”

“Beats the living dog shit out of me, Padre.”  He keyed his mic.  “Mobile Command, we have a problem.”

“I’m aware, Team Leader.  We’re going over everything and I’m on the horn with our field op.  We’re trying to figure out where these guys came from as well.”  Jackson said.  “Stand by.  We have a cleanup crew en route, but in the mean time, assume this was another ambush.  We’re going to keep the drone in the air and start a grid search.  We also have an Apache inbound for more air support.”

Spalding let out a heavy sigh.  “Copy that Mobile.  Keep me updated.”

“Roger that.”

Spalding squatted down and looked over the killing field of baby vamps.  “Does this smell like three day old fish to anybody else?”

Hank raised his hand.  The three new squad members looked to each other and shrugged.  “Think about it.  If you’re going to set an ambush, are you going to use baby vamps?”  He walked over and kicked one of the bodies over.  “Look at this.” He said, pointing out the mouths.  “They’re already starting to ash.” 

The new members still didn’t get it.  Hank filled them in.  “They’re only
days
old.  Not something you’d trust to pull off an ambush.”  He shook his head.  “No.  Somebody was trying to build their own army of baby vamps.”

“But somebody took the time to ‘turn them’.  These aren’t survivors of a bite, these things were turned.  There’s a diffe
rence.” Spanky said.  “Who takes the time to turn a small army and then lets them loose on a feeding frenzy that they know will get them killed?”

“Somebody who was trying to draw us out?”  Sanchez asked.

“I don’t know.  But this doesn’t feel right.”  He stood and looked out over the area they had just been at.  “Divvy up the P90 mags so Maria has ammo for her carbine.”  He reached into his pouch and tossed her a magazine.  “Sanchez, get back to Over watch and keep an eye on the town.  We’re going door to door if we have to.   I’m making sure this town is scrubbed before we leave.”

10

Foster stepped out of the limo and walked the length of the dock to the small craft tied up at the slip.  “Seriously?  This is the best the great Rufus Thorn can send me?” he laughed.  “Oh my god, things must be really tight for the old boy.” He said as he stepped down onto the Monterey and took a seat in the rear.  As his body guards started to step on to the craft, the pilot held up a hand.

“I’m sorry, but only Monsieur Foster is allowed to the i
sland.”  The two bodyguards looked to Foster. 

Foster smiled a large toothy grin.  “I don’t think so, pal.  I don’t go anywhere without these two clowns.  They’re my pe
rsonal…entertainment.” He grinned.

“I’m afraid Monsieur Thorn was quite clear, sir.  Only you
rself.” He smiled apologetically.

“Well, fuck this.  If they don’t go,
I
don’t go.  It’s that simple.”  He said sarcastically.

The pilot sighed.  “I was really hoping you would not i
nsist.”  He pulled a device from his pocket and held it up in the moonlight.  “Monsieur Thorn was quite clear, Monsieur.  If you did not come by yourself and I had the opportunity, I was to detonate the craft with you and as many of your people as I could take with me.” He stated sadly.

The guards took an instinctive step backward and Foster’s eyes widened. 

“The blast radius would easily clear two city blocks.  The hull is lined with C4 plastic explosive.” He sighed.  “You could not reach a safe zone before I hit the button, Monsieur.” 

Foster stared the vampire down.  Finally he broke into a broad smile.  “What the fuck, Pierre.  Anchors away!  Let’s get this party started.” He exclaimed sarcastically.  Paul looked over at his guards, “If I’m not back by morning, go back to the war
ehouse and await word.  If I don’t contact you by nightfall tomorrow…I’m dead.” He said flatly.

The pilot started the small craft and the guards tossed the lines into the boat.  He piloted the Monterey away from the dock and headed toward the island as quickly as the waters would a
llow.

Foster moved closer to the pilot’s seat and noticed he still held the device in his hand.  “Would you have really blown yourself to hell to kill me?”

“Oui.  In a heartbeat Monsieur.” He said happily.

“Of course you would.”  Paul sat back in the seat next to the pilot.  “Are you a goat sucker, too?”  He didn’t wait for a reply, “Of course you are, if you work for Rufus.  All of you are goat suckers, right?  Lamia Beastia, correct?”  The pilot ignored his jab.  “Don’t you miss it?  Feeding on a human like you’re su
pposed to?”

“Non.  Just because we need blood does not mean we need to kill humans to survive.” He explained.

“Of course not.  Top of the food chain, and all that.”  Paul sat back, staring out at the water.  After a while, he asked the pilot, “Do you actually know where we are going?”

“Oui.  There!” he said, pointing to a series of lights in the distance.

Paul stood and he could just make out a dark silhouette in the distance, lights blinking along the shore and up and down the castle walls.  “Well, I’ll be a son of a bitch.”

The pilot laughed.  “Oui.  You are.” He laughed again.

A short time later he pulled the Monterey alongside a short pier and tied it off.  The pilot stepped off and offered Foster a hand out.  Of course, Foster ignored the man and stepped off on his own, nearly falling.  The pilot ignored his insult and escorted him to the castle grounds. 

Foster could just make out creatures darting about the edges of the woods and was sure that wolves were on the island.  It made sense, but still it made him uncomfortable.  He wasn’t sure if perhaps Thorn intended to use him as a midnight snack for his dogs.  And here he forgot to bring any Scooby-snacks to toss at them should they come to sniff his crotch. 
As long as they don’t try to hump my leg, then maybe we won’t have an issue.
He thought to himself.

They crossed the open courtyard and entered the estate.  Paul vaguely remembered this castle.  He had been to a few of Thorn’s homes back when they were friends and this one seemed familiar.  The lack of landscaping threw him, though.  The castle seemed somehow wrong being on an island off the coast of the states.  It should be back in England or the south of France or…hell, anywhere but an island.

Foster was escorted to Thorn’s study and entered the room, decorated in French provincial.  Books lined the shelves while tapestries and old paintings hung from the walls.  An ancient area rug set the tone of the meeting place where history would be made.  Or it would absorb his blood, depending on whether Thorn was truly a vampire of his word.

Rufus sat in one of his classical high backed chairs and didn’t stand when Paul entered.  “I would say I love what you’ve done with the place, but you moved it to a fucking island, Rufus.  What
were
you thinking?” Paul asked.

“That I prefer the ocean breeze.” Thorn responded flatly.  “Besides, the new world always had a certain… je ne sais quoi…there is just something about it that makes me ‘happy’.  I’m sure you wouldn’t understand.”

Foster chuckled.  “Oh, I do.  I’ve made it my home as well.  Lots of nice, fat Americans just ripe for the plucking. Or should I say, ‘sucking’?” His face reflected every bit the predator he was.

“I’m certain.” Thorn’s distaste for the man was obvious.

“Well.  Are we going to do this?”  Foster asked.  “I wondered if you were going to kill me, but you could have done that on the boat ride here.”

Thorn raised an eyebrow.

Foster leaned forward in his chair and smiled.  “Or did you want to do it face to face so you could watch me squirm?  Did you hope to hear me beg for my life?”  He plopped back in his seat and hooked a leg over the arm.  “I won’t do it, you know.  I refuse to give you the satisfaction.”  He flicked at his fingernails as if Thorn were an afterthought.

“I thought
you
offered a blood alliance?” Rufus stated.  “Of course, if you prefer to die…I
can
arrange that as well.”

Foster glanced away from his fingernails.  “Well.  I suppose we could go ahead and form this little alliance.  It would seem the proper thing to do considering we both wish to stop the Blood Apacolypto, yes?”

“Oui.”  Rufus studied the younger vampire.  “Although, I must admit, I question your ambition.  And your sanity.”

“Oh, I assure you.  I am most definitely insane.  You’d have to be to crawl into bed with some of the most ruthless cut-throat bastards that I’ve crawled into bed with.” Foster smiled.

“I’m sure.” Thorn responded flatly.  “Sounds like your normal bed-fellows.”

“Oh no, no, no.  I’m talking Mafioso, Yakuza, the Pokro
vsky Klan, the Triad, you name it, and my fingers are in the pie.  I’m the
head
vampire of all their blood-sucking enforcers.”  Foster shifted in his chair and looked Rufus square in the eye, “I’m telling you, brother, it’s gotten to where there are times, I’m almost afraid to go to sleep each morning!  I’m afraid I’m going to wake up dead!” he exclaimed.  “Well.  Um,…dead
er
than when I went to sleep.  These bastards are ruthless.  And although they know how the pecking order works, sometimes they don’t always want to listen to their creators.  Sometimes, the underlings decide to take matters into their own hands and actually try to
kill
their masters. 

“Can you
believe
that?!  Ungrateful little bastards…”

“And this is what you bring to me as an army?  To face the darkness that brings the Apacolypto to our doorsteps?” Thorn asked.

Foster fidgeted in his chair.  “Well.  If you put it that way, it doesn’t sound so great, does it?”

“Non.  It does not.”  Thorn twined his fingers together and stared at Foster over his pointed fingertips.

“Well, honestly, they aren’t
all
that bad.  It really is just a few.”  Paul argued.  Thorn could tell that he was nervous as his British accent had been seeping through.

“Relax, Paul.  Come, have a drink with me.” Thorn took two glasses from a nearby table and picked up a decanter.

“Me?  Drink with you?”  Paul chuckled.  “Sorry old chum, but I don’t do goat blood.” He taunted.  “You can keep the pig bile and sheep piss yourself…” Foster paused as he watched Thorn pour a thick orange-black liquid from the decanter.  “Wait, is that what I think it is?” he asked.

“Oh yes.” Thorn answered as he inhaled deeply of the rich nectar in his crystal goblet.  He sipped it and sucked air across the thick liquid, savoring the bouquet.  “Mmm.  So flavorful.”  He moaned.

“Is that
really
what I think it is?  Because it looks fresh.” Paul could feel his mouth salivating at the very thought.

“It
is
fresh.  Flown in just this very afternoon, for this very occasion.” Rufus admitted.  “Elven blood.”

“Where did you find Elven blood?  They’re all but extinct.” Paul’s eyes were about to pop from their sockets.

“I have my sources.” Thorn admitted.  He turned to Foster.  “Care to join me?”

Foster made a poor attempt at containing himself.  “Yes.  I believe I would, thank you.”

Thorn poured Foster a large goblet of the nectar and found Paul’s hands practically shaking when he accepted it.  He tried to contain himself as he drank it, tried to savor each drop, but the thick nectar of the Elves was intoxicating to vampires.  With a dark, toasted flavor and sweet aftertaste and intoxicating after effects, it was a rare and expensive treat.  Both vampires sat back for a moment and enjoyed themselves.

“Mmm.  Do you know what this reminds me of?” Foster asked.

“I know what it reminds
me
of.” Thorn answered.  “Turkish coffees from my youth.”

“Exactly!  Oh, how I miss coffee with real cream.” He said.  “And sugar.”

“Exactement!”  Thorn agreed.

“Tell me something, Rufus.”  Foster asked, feeling warm and fuzzy inside.  “Why on earth would you share something like this with me?  I know you’d just as soon rip my throat out as to look at me.”  He smiled at the older vampire.

“Oh, it is simple, my dear friend.”  Thorn replied.  “I truly intend to enter into the blood alliance with you.  We will combine our forces and we will fight a
glorious
battle and hopefully, we will save the day for both mankind and vampires the world over.”

“Yay for our side.” Foster said, drunkenly holding his go
blet up in the air.

“But as soon as the war is over and the alliance is satisfied?  I intend to kill you.” Thorn smiled at his oldest friend…and both vampires laughed.

*****

The sun was just rising over Rome.  The dark vampire known as the Sicarii stood once more in the second floor wi
ndow of the cathedral.  How many times had he prayed to God to remove the curse?  How many times did he test his faith in God by watching the sun rise only to feel his flesh burn and smell the acrid smoke rise from his own skin?  Too many to count.  But yet, he still did it, like people who wake every morning and brush their teeth out of habit, the Sicarii prayed each night and awaited the coming sunrise, in hopes that this one time, his prayers had been fervent enough to garner His grace and lift the curse.

As the night sky slowly lightened and the black became purples and blues, his mind flashed back once more to his youth.  He remembered many nights walking and talking with the man he called his brother.  He remembered many a sunrise that began much like this one.  He remembered many things, but, he barely remembered his own name anymore.  In fact, history didn’t even recall his name.  Not his real name, anyway.  It bastardized it.  But he had been born Judah, son of a goat herder, raised by an Arab, trained as an assassin.  At what should have been the peak of young Judah’s career as an assassin, he met a man that would forever change his life.  It was a chance meeting, actually.  He had been sent to kill a man that he couldn’t find.  He searched throughout the town and the surrounding area to find him and yet, he simply was not there.  When he finally tracked him down, the older man was sitting under a fig tree, listening to a young Jewish Rabbi tell of the world and the world that waited beyond.  Judah saw many come and go, so he waited nearby.  Surely the man would leave eventually.  His son did not wish to wait for his inheritance and Judah was more than willing to a
ssist in helping him to lay claim to it.

But something strange happened as he sat and waited for the father to leave the lessons of the young Rabbi.  He began to li
sten to the teachings and something inside him began to shift.  It was as if the young rabbi was speaking to
him
but he was speaking in parables.  He could have been speaking to any of the people there, but Judah could imagine…yes.  It must have just been his imagination. 

The more he tried to tune out the young Rabbi, the more his words dug into his heart.  The Jewish goat herder turned assassin found himself becoming a convert to this young Rabbi’s group of followers.  And follow he did.  He forgot about his agreement to kill the merchant, and he hid his knives away, all to follow this young Jewish Rabbi and act as his protector.  This young Yeshua, who had opened his eyes to divine forgiveness, even for one such as himself?  How could he not follow him?  To the ends of the earth, if he would allow it.