Immortal Coil: A Novel (Immortal Trilogy Book 1) (26 page)

Randal took the picture of his family out of his pocket and stared at it for a moment. Still holding it, he walked into the living room and looked at every one in turn. “I have something to say.” He spoke slowly, hesitantly.

David lifted an eyebrow. “Everything okay, Buddy?” He was remembering Randal’s talk of feeling like a monster.

Randal nodded.

Maggie smiled encouragingly at him and he continued.

“I wanted to let you all know that I have been remembering my past life, my human life, little by little for some time now. I remember everything that happened to me, and to my family. I mean my family before you; because I don’t feel like an orphan at all. I feel like I have a new family that is just as caring and important to me as that past family had been. I never want to forget my human family, but that doesn’t mean I care about all of you any less. I hope you understand what I’m saying. I don’t think I’m explaining myself very clearly.”

“You’re doing just fine,” Maggie said.

David hugged Randal then pulled him down into the sofa beside him. “What brought all this on?”

“I guess I wanted you all to know that I no longer have holes in my memory. I don’t want to have secrets…”

Randal stopped and stared down at his hands. When he looked up, Maggie was there, smiling and urging him on with her eyes.

“I also wanted to explain…my inability to…”

Randal couldn’t finish. He couldn’t say…
I also wanted to explain my inability to distinguish between innocent and guilty
. He couldn’t do that because he didn’t want to lose their trust. So instead, he finished with something else.

“…to fit in.”

“With us?” Maggie asked. “Honey, you fit in just fine.”

He stammered as he continued. He couldn’t meet Maggie’s gaze. “No, not just you. With all immortals. I feel lost. I feel trapped in this child’s body—this child’s mind. I…”

              He couldn’t finish. Instead, Randal stood and left the group to feed. He sped off into the night and hunted. Tonight he wanted to hunt for real, so he had ignored Maggie’s notes and wandered the dark streets in search for someone who would think Randal was a scared and vulnerable child. Maybe he would just take the first person who tried to help him; he didn’t see why they were limiting themselves to killers and other human waste. All humans were struggling to live a life that was only going to end in death anyway: he didn’t see the point to prolonging their pain.

              But for now he would respect Antony’s wishes and feed only on the scum of the earth. Still, he wondered what an innocent would taste like.

              In the end Randal took the man who had attacked him with a knife, but only because he had presented himself first. Maybe there were no innocent people out there. Who was innocent? Was the business tycoon who crushed the little people under his expensive shoe heel innocent? What about the corrupt cop that overlooked the drug deal just so he could pad his pocket with a little extra cash?

              Or what about the schoolteacher who ignored the rich kids beating up on the younger, more defenseless children just because she had a better rapport with the rich students; and wanted to stay in their good graces? Was she innocent?

              Randal was missing the point, and he knew it, but still he could not shake the feeling that he needed to taste the blood of someone other than the scumbag with the switchblade at his throat. Of course that was very satisfying too, watching the would-be attacker’s confusion when Randal turned from the scared young boy into the laughing, angry red-eyed monster that was about to tear out his throat.

              When Randal was finished with him, he took off the thug’s head with his own switchblade knife and tossed the remains into a dumpster. He was supposed to bring the corpses back for the incinerator, but he wanted to read about this in the paper tomorrow.

              Randal wiped the blood from the blade and pocketed the knife: it was a cool knife.

              Back at the house, Randal saw that David had set up a map of the Poconos on a cork board and colored pushpins marked the territories that were potential lairs. When Maggie saw him, she smiled and motioned for Randal to join her. Randal felt shame burn through him, remembering his desire to kill someone who Maggie would never consider fit to be a victim. He knew that if he went down that path, there might never be an opportunity to turn back. Would Maggie forgive him? Would Antony or David?

              He thought Maggie probably would, and David, too; but Antony would destroy Randal. And in that destruction would probably be the destruction of the group. He believed Maggie would never forgive Antony for his actions, and David would be torn between the Vampire who sired him, and the mother of his child. Randal would be no better than the Dark Father if he were to destroy this family. He made up his mind that innocent blood would stay off his lips.

At least for now.

When he saw that Maggie was packing her bags, he gave her a questioning gaze. David was attempting to change the baby.

“We’re getting ready to head out to the Poconos with the Zephyr. We want to be as close to the lair as possible when we find it.”

“What about Gardner?” Randal asked.

“Gardner will stay at the Jersey house while we are out.”

              The group packed the Zephyr with everything they would need an extended road trip. They attached the Rav4 to the back of the RV in case a smaller vehicle was needed.

David struggled to change the baby’s diaper and Maggie laughed as she watched. She used cloth diapers, distrustful of the plastic ones, and David was having trouble manipulating the safety pin. She should have told him she had Velcro diapers, but she was too amused to give up the sight just yet. Eventually, David did figure it out.

Once the comedy was over, they drove first to deliver Gardner to the au pair, and then it was off to the Poconos to catch a killer.

              The Vampire Master looked around at what was left of his soldiers.
What a pathetic bunch they are
, he thought. He glared at the two females and three males standing at attention in front of him. He no longer knew or cared about numbering them. His second in command was gone, and the rest were just fodder. The male to the far right was balancing on one foot; a swipe of the blonde man’s katana had severed the other above the knee. This one had barely made it back. The Master walked up to him and examined the missing foot.

              He tore off the head of this useless vampire.

              The male who had been standing next to the one-legged vampire tried not to meet The Master’s gaze when it fell upon him.

              “Do you have any idea how we will defeat these foul creatures?” he asked. The nervous mutterings he received in reply angered him. “I should destroy the lot of you and start over from scratch.” He snarled.

              “But I won’t. I don’t have enough time. They are hot on our trail: if I don’t attack again, and soon, they will be bringing the fight to me. I can’t allow that.”

              He stepped up to the next male in line. He placed his fingers in the vampire’s mouth and forced him to open wide. He pried the male vampire’s mouth open even wider as if he were looking into the mouth for cavities. He continued pulling the two jaws apart until the mouth ripped and the top half of the head broke away from the rest of the body. The vampire burst into dust.

              He stepped in front of the blond female in his group. “What did you do that for?” she asked The Master.

              “Why did I do that?” He looked down at the dried up husk at his feet. “Why did I do that?” he said again, as if asking himself. Then he turned back to the female and shouted, “He irritated my dots, that’s why!”

              He kicked at the dust pile until there was nothing left.

              “And who said they could have werewolves?” he shouted into her face. Her lip trembled as she waited for him to tear off her head but she stood straight and tall, prepared to meet her fate. He let his features fade from a snarl into something sad and confused then turned away from her. “I don’t even know how to kill a werewolf—didn’t even know they existed. It’s not like there is a manual for this shit.”

              “Trial and error,” the last male in the group said.

              The Master turned to him.

              “Trial and error,” The Master repeated, agreeably.

              “Yes, kill one and then you’ll know how to kill them in the future.”

              “I agree. The only way to know how to do something is to do it. Step forward and be designated as my new number one.”

              The bearded male stepped forward. He was dressed in motorcycle leathers, with steel chains on his pockets. His broad shoulders were pushed back, proud and defiant. He very clearly expected The Master to rip his head off as well but was ready to meet his end. The Master laughed. They didn’t trust him. They feared him, and that was just fine. That was just how he liked his subordinates.

              “I am sending you all out to hunt, to kill and to recruit. I want only the strongest and meanest; no children, and no little old ladies. Find me an army. I want fifty, sixty…one hundred! We must have our army by the end of the month so that we can attack before the others can retaliate,” He dismissed them then. They were all too ready to disband and leave the Master to his dark thoughts.

The Master went out into the night as well, to feed and to add to his numbers. He would soon have a grand army of blood drinkers, and no other vampire would dare stand in his way again.

              David parked the Zephyr at the Four Seasons Campsite near the small town of Scotrun in the Poconos. Maggie found a safe place in the woods for the wolves to run free, and to hunt. The sleeping arrangements were more or less the same. Randal had the space under the sink, as David and Antony shared the larger steel compartment under the table. Maggie and Dylan would share the bed.

              David and Antony used an app on their phones to find pedophiles and other sex offenders that lived in the area. There was no lack of prey. Randal had been growing bored of the typical prey, and decided not to go with them. He would head farther north instead. But he didn’t go out just yet. He wanted to push the hunger a little longer, to see just how much of the pain he could endure. He decided to stay with Maggie until the others returned.

She came out of the bedroom with an excited aura surrounding her. She spoke to Randal. “I know you must be hungry, but if you can hold out just a little longer, I have good news to share with you.”

              When David and Antony returned, Maggie gave the group the good news. She had picked up the scent of their quarry.

“And I mean that in the literal sense. There was a stink in the vision I had of this house. It’s a B and B, or was. Now it’s a hot mess. There was something foul, dead-smelling in the house. When I heard the phrase ‘Dark Father’ spoken in the vision, I knew I had the right place.” She paused and stared with a puzzled expression on her face. “I have to wonder if the vampire is storing corpses in his lair.”

“              Creepy…and ultimately stupid,” David said. “But at least we finally have something to go on.” 

              Maggie marked the location on the map. David found the location on Google Maps; it had been a bed and breakfast in the past. And now they had an address. The noose was tightening.

              Randal stared at the spot on the map marked with the blue pushpin. He focused all his rage and hatred into that spot until he thought he could burn a hole in the map with his eyes. He was vaguely aware of Maggie placing her soft hand on his back, comforting him. “It will all be over soon,” he heard her say. Randal wondered if that was true. Would it be over? After the Dark Father is destroyed, will this rage go away? Will his desire to taste innocent blood be quenched when the Dark father was no more? Randal wasn’t so sure, and it scared him.

              Randal wanted to share his secret craving with Maggie, but would she understand, or would she cringe from him, like he was some sick and rancid thing? He just couldn’t risk losing her trust. He needed her approval right now.

              After boring a hole with his stare into the spot on the map where his Dark Father resided, Randal excused himself. He didn’t dare look into Maggie’s eyes as he departed. He didn’t want her to read something there that might tell her his little secret. She already had that uncanny ability to know things no one else can see. He left the Zephyr and moved with speed into town. He wandered the streets, not really hunting; he just wanted to be away from the others for a while. He was starting to feel smothered. He walked at normal speeds for a while.

As he passed through the streets, not really thinking of anything in particular, he heard the strange sound of machine guns going off, the wails of sirens, and the pinging of electronic equipment. He spotted the source of the sounds. Bright lights of all colors and varying brightness flashed at the place where his attention had been drawn. It was an all-night arcade.

Randal entered the building and looked around. There were mostly older teenagers and adults gathered in the building, but there were also a few kids his age there, too. Well, the age he had been when he died. It was the age he would probably feel for all of his eternal life. He approached one of the younger kids and watched him as he played a first-person shooter. The kid glanced at him briefly, but didn’t give him much attention beyond that.

Randal turned away and spotted another young boy playing something that had zombies and other scary pictures depicted on the side of the machine. Randal walked over to him and watched him play the game. The boy’s turn ended, he dropped his hands away from the controllers. He turned to face Randal.

“My name’s Bobby,” said the boy.

Randal said his name.

“I like your fangs.”

Randal slapped a hand over his mouth.

Bobby smiled. “It’s no big deal. My little brother has fangs. My mother says he’ll grow out of them. Maybe you will, too.”

“I hope not,” Randal said. “I need them.”

“Do you have any money?” the boy asked.

Randal shook his head. He didn’t.

“I have a whole pocket full of tokens. The machines only take tokens, from that dispenser over there, and I already turned my real money into tokens, so I have to use them up. I I’ll share them with you, if you want. I have to go soon.”

“Sure,” Randal said.

The boy pulled a handful of tokens from his pocket and handed them over to Randal. Randal played the monster game for a while and then switched with the boy who had been playing the shooter game. He then found a game about vampire hunters, which made him laugh, and he played that one, too. When his tokens were all used up he found the boy who had shared his tokens with him.

“I’m all out,” Randal said.

“Me too,” said Bobby. “I’ll be back tomorrow, but in the daytime. Will you be around?”

Randal shook his head.

“From out of town?” Bobby asked.

Randal nodded.

“Aw, darn. I would have liked to see you again.”

“Me, too,” Randal said.

“Oh, well. It was nice meeting you.”

Randal grabbed ahold of Bobby’s hand. “I know of a way we can hang out together, forever.”

Bobby tried to pull away, but Randal’s grip was strong. “Let me go.”

“I wasn’t strong enough before to pass on the gift, but I think I am now. I think I can change you.”

“No.” Bobby’s eyes filled with tears. “Randal, you’re scaring me. Let me go.”

“It will be okay, Bobby. I promise.”

Randal turned around and saw that he had drawn the attention of several of the other people in the arcade. People pointed and whispered to one another. Randal’s grip slackened and Bobby pulled away. He ran from the arcade, crying.

Randal considered running after him, but stopped himself. What was he doing? Had he really planned to do that? Randal ran from the arcade at supersonic speed. He didn’t stop until he reached a park. In the park he saw someone who looked familiar to him. He stepped up for a closer look.

              It was his mother. He pulled out his picture and compared it to the woman in the park. He was sure it was his mother. She had survived. Was she a vampire too, or had only been wounded?

              Randal stumbled up to this woman holding out his picture. The woman turned and smiled at him, but did not seem to recognize him. He tried to press down his unruly black hair, but it was no use. He tried to straighten his clothes, to be presentable; but who was he kidding? He slept in a metal box. He wore dirty clothes and probably smelled bad, too. He was embarrassed to be reuniting with his mother in this condition. He gave up trying to impress her and smiled at his mother. His smile faded when she looked at him, scared.

              “Mother, I’ve missed you.” Randal’s own voice sounded alien to him. Still, she didn’t seem to recognize him.

              Suddenly this woman didn’t look as much like his mother as he had first thought. He looked down at the picture and then back at the woman. He held his picture up near her face to compare.

              The woman slapped the picture out of his hand.

              Randal dropped to the ground and snatched up his picture before it drifted away. He shoved it back in his pocket.

              This woman wasn’t his mother.

              Randal’s eyes went red.

              Randal was on the woman before she could flee or even cry out. He was ripping his teeth into her throat and drinking from her, sucking at the gashes his teeth had made, and lapping up the blood that spilled over his hungry lips. The woman was completely drained—dead—before he even realized what he had done.

              Randal was devastated. He had taken innocent blood, and it tasted as good as he had dreamed it would be. Looking down into the woman’s dead glassy eyes, he felt blame radiating from her like heat from a coal. His guilt was all consuming, blinding. He stumbled away from the deadly scene. He moved with vampire speed as far from the woman as he could get. He ran aimlessly, or so he thought; but when he stopped running, when he scanned the surroundings, trying to orient himself, he realized where he was.

              The large, looming mansion still carried the dilapidated sign stating: Bed and Breakfast. Randal clenched his fists. He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t run away; Randal strode with determination toward the building. He hiked up the crumbling walkway to the porch steps. Four fluted pillars as thick as tree trunks lined the front porch. The whole place was in serious disrepair. Two double doors fifteen feet high served as the front entrance.

              Randal moved with determination toward the doors, intending to bust them down if he needed to in order to gain entrance. He didn’t need to even touch them. As he came within inches of the entrance, the left door swung inward, revealing the dark interior. Randal stepped tentatively into the darkness, and came face to face with the skinny rotting boy who had opened the door. The rotting corpse boy did not talk, or move; he just stood there staring at Randal with glassy, milky eyes and maggots dropping from a hole in his cheek.

After several seconds, the corpse boy tipped his head to the left as if listening, then motioned for Randal to follow him as he walked with a staggering limp into the house. Randal followed, taking in the surroundings.

The house was furnished with large puffy pieces of furniture that were covered with dingy white sheets, and decades of layers of dust. The oversized pictures in ornately designed frames on the walls were so dust covered, the images were not recognizable. This looked to be the reception area for the bed and breakfast.

After passing through the archway, Randal then found himself in a main sitting room. This room had similarly designed furniture as the pieces in the reception area, as well as drapes on the windows: heavy crimson drapes that were moldy and tearing. Magazine racks and bookshelves held the rotting remnants of their previous publications.

In this room, the corpse boy indicated that Randal should have a seat, wait.

Randal had no intention of waiting. He started a methodical search of the house. He stalked from room to room, but there was no one in the house except himself and the corpse boy. Randal found the door leading to the garage. He searched the various tools and debris for anything to use as a weapon. The only thing he found was a dull and rusty axe, but it would have to do. He could use it to hack off the Dark Father’s head. He then returned to the house and continued his random search. Randal eventually located the door which led to the basement. In the basement he found the coffins. It took all his strength but he managed to smash all the coffins to splinters.

It was not long after that when he heard the sound of footsteps walking across the floor above his head: many pairs.

The Dark Father was home, and by the sound of all those walking above his head, he was not alone.

Randal regretted his decision to confront the enemy.