Drew D'Amato:Bloodlines:02 (12 page)

“They weren’t innocents, and it was intentional.  These men had discovered a coffer.  The coffer contains two things of vital importance.  The first was this.”  Vlad took the grey backpack from Jericho and took out the original Dark Bible.  “This book documents everything about vampires, our weaknesses, our strengths, how our bloodline works.  The second thing was a container that held the Blood of Judas Iscariot, the original vampire.  Drinking that blood can make anyone a vampire.  If they used that, we are all at risk.  We destroyed the blood once we obtained it.”

“If they abused that power, or even used it, then they would be bad.  But sorry Vlad, as a human I can’t find men risking their lives to hunt vampires as evil men.”

“Well, they killed my pilot, and he was innocent.  They were the ones inside that minivan that mowed down the
true innocents
at the airport.  They put innocent lives at risk, and set up the ambush, not us.  We only did what we can for survival and for the survival of the world.  You may have mixed feelings about me right now, but don’t worry for too long.  Within a few days there will be no more vampires anywhere in the world.”

“What do you mean?” Warbuton asked.

“Also in that book is an exorcism that can make a vampire human again.  We no longer need this power now that Radu is dead and the world is safe from him.  It is all over Warburton.”  Vlad put a hand on his shoulder.  “Oh, and when I get home you will be rewarded, handsomely.”

Warburton gently put his cold hand down.  “It was never about the money Vlad.  If it was, I would have been a dirty cop.  It was because I saw Radu and you battle my first year on the force and you saved my life.  I believed in your cause, and that our actions were helping keep the world safe.”  Warburton had a disenchanted look to his face.

“Don’t regret it Warburton, we kept the world safe.  We won.”

3

V
lad, Jericho, and Malachi enjoyed first class seats on their way back to LA.  Jericho and Malachi had started to relax.  Vlad, however, got more nervous the longer he was on the flight—the closer he got back to home.  It would be a new life waiting for him.  Everything he ever wanted. 
If it’s too good to be true, it’s usually not. 
He was so happy that he was scared.  He feared a massive disappointment that his soul might not be able to handle.

Then he settled in his chair and got some perspective.  Even if he and Jasmine didn’t work out, meeting her had served some divine purpose.  Radu was dead and they had the coffer.  In a few days there would be no more vampires left in the world.  With no more vampires, there was nothing left for him to fear.

Book IV:

REMORSE, REGRET,

REBORN… AGAIN

ONE

1

V
lad
found himself in a saloon, some town out west at the turn of the twentieth century.  It had a cowboys and Indians feel to it, like it was the west just after the Civil War, but the people were not dressed like those in a spaghetti western.  Vlad was dressed in a three-piece suit with a fedora on his head.  Most of the men in there also wore three piece suits—but they didn’t look like professionals.  They looked like hard men, gangsters, bank robbers.  If this was New York City or Chicago he would have taken them for mobsters.  The whole vibe of the place was like two different time periods crossed together—the Wild West mixed with the Roaring Twenties.  There were no signs telling him where he was or what year he was in.  He underestood though that this place was full of shady characters.   

He passed by the crowd as if no one sensed him and
walked
his way up to the bar.  The bar was
full of ramblers and gamblers,
pimps
, robbers, pioneers, lawmen, and of course the whores.  All
were
there to drink their whiskey, make some money,
get laid
and hopefully get out alive. 

Vlad got to the bar and signaled
to
the man behind it for a drink.  The bartender grabbed the bottle of whisk
e
y on the shelf along with a small glass. 
He filled it up to the brim.  Vlad
took the drink and downed
more than half of it. 
The bartender didn’t ask for any money;
strange
,
but
there were stranger things going on in this place.

“So why aren’t you sitting
at the
poker game
?” the bartender asked.

“Really, I didn’t know,” Vlad
said.

“Didn’t know? 
I may not know the game
,
but I know you like to
play.  You usually clean up every night. 
Why are you acting
so
out of it tonight?”

Tonight? 
Vlad
was a re
ccurring character in a
place he had never been before
. 

“I ain’t acting out of it,” he said as he
placed his hand on the
gun
in its holster
.
  He hadn’t noticed the gun on him before.  It was
an old six-shooter
wit
h a long barrel
and a heavy weight to it
.  Vlad was in awe of this ancient weapon.  He remembered when he used these and how much he loved them.
 

He hadn’t used one of them in over a century.
 

“I’m not trying to say anything
,
mister,” the
bartender said
with both his arms up.  “Just letting
you know they started the game
without you
.  It’s n
ot even an hour old.  I’m sure there’s enough
money left for you
.”

“Where are they playing it?”

The bartender seemed taken aback by that question.  He pointed to his right.  “Over there, by the stairs.  As always.”

Vlad tilted his brim to the man, flipped him a coin and made his way to the other end of the saloon. 

On his way over a whore
danc
ed
on a table in front of about seven men.  I
n a hundred years
from now they
would be at a strip bar
, wasting their money there
.  They seemed more like they were auctioning for the lady,
and
not just for her
,
but their placement in
turns.  One suitor
had won her attention and she grabbed his hand with a fistful of dollars in it.  She got off the table and led him toward the stairs and then up them.  Vlad followed the two with his eyes as they walked up the stairs.  When they got to the top of them, he looked back in front of him.  There was the card table with six men and a dealer seated at it.

They were playing five card draw.  Three men were in the hand and two of them had already shown their cards.  A third man in the middle of the two, with an over-sized brim showed his hand. 

“Aces and eights.  Dead man’s hand,” the dealer said.  “Winner.”

Vlad moved in closer to get a better look at what the other two men had that lost to a high two-pair.  There appeared to be a lot of chips in the pot.  One guy also had two-pair, king and jacks, a respectable hand to have.  There other guy just had a pair of black queens.  Vlad wondered what he was doing risking so much with just ladies.

Vlad then looked at the winner as he spread his arms wide to scoop up the chips.  He had a big smile on his face and when he looked up from raking in the chips, Vlad was able to see his face.  It was Radu!

Vlad went for the old six-shooter that was on his belt.  A hand out of nowhere grabbed his arm.  He turned to the owner of this arm with rage in his eyes.

The other man did not even flinch from the look Vlad gave him.  He had a silver sheriff star on his chest and a short-brimmed fedora on his head.  Vlad noticed the man’s salt and pepper hair coming out from under his hat.  The sheriff looked at Vlad with his grey eyes and said calmly, “Sorry partner, that’s not the way we fight up here.” 

2

V
lad
woke up in his bed frozen
.  Cold sweat beaded down his face. 
He tried to move, but found he couldn’t.  It was a dream.  One of those powerful dreams that left you so paralyzed in bed that if the house was on fire you would have no choice but to burn down with it. 
J
ust a dream, just a God damn intense dream
.  He had
n’t had a dream
that in
tense in centuries
.  What could this dream mean?

Nothing, he concluded, and when he reached that decision he found he was then able to move his foot.  From there he could move his legs, and then the rest of his body.  He was able to get
out of
be
d and
make it t
o the bathroom.  He had been dreaming for
almost six
hundred years and n
ever had any of his dreams
come to mean anything, why should this one be any different?  Just a bad coincidence
. 

He had gotten back to California early in the morning.  Between the train and the planes even the vampires felt a little exhausted.  He crashed when he had his bed in sight.  Now it was ten in the morning.  Pacami planned to come by this afternoon to get the Dark Bible.  He needed to read it himself, to know what he needed to perform the exorcism, and how soon he could do it.

Radu is dead
,
he told himself again
,
Radu i
s dead
.  He splashed
water over his face and walked
out of his private bathroom
. 
Radu is dead, and I’m going
to church
.

3

P
acami had been a wreck for a week.  He foolishly believed he had hidden his stress from the rest of the rectory.  They noticed a subtle change in him.  At first it was slight but then his mood
changed Tuesday night after he watched the news about the attack in Geneva.  He didn’t do anything then, but when he and Father Montes ate dinner, he was tightly wound.  He knocked over a drink and his eyes bulged.  He almost lost it right then, but something inside him told him to calm down.

“Is something on your mind, Anthony?” Father Montes had asked.

Pacami got up and brought his plate to the sink.  “No, nothing at all.”

There is, but you don’t want to talk about it,
Montes thought.  They had lived together for years.  Everybody is succeptible to bad moods from time to time, so Montes didn’t push it.

They next day he was a little better, and Thursday he was in a great mood, until late that night.  The only catalyst Montes could surmise was viewing the nightly news.  On both nights there had been some sort of attack at an airport.  Tuesday—Geneva, Thursday—Munich.  Pacami was a veteran, he was sensitive to the current war on terror, and really any type of war in general.  That must have been the problem, because the next day when it became clear in the media that these attacks were caused by a group of dirty cops all over Europe that were into trafficking anything, his mood had been back to normal, in fact even better. 
That had to be it.

Whatever Montes thought was fine with Pacami.  He was sick of hiding his stress, but he couldn’t control it.  The news of Geneva had upset him.  Word of what happened at the Munich airport only made him worse.  The shooting at the house in Romania was mentioned briefly on the cable news stations, but Pacami had been busy with church business when it did.  However, the story about the Munich shooting was tied to the attack at the Romanian mansion.  Pacami looked up the story of the Romanian shooting on the internet as soon as he could.  After reading the report, he concluded Vlad surived Geneva, attacked Radu at his house, and then Vlad was ambushed in Munich by either Radu or the Crusaders.  Vlad either survived the attack, or he
was killed.  Not hearing from Vlad, compelled Pacami to believe the latter.  But then the next day Vlad called and explained everything. 
Vlad had done it. 
Radu was dead and the Dark Bible was in his possession.  Pacami felt a world of calm wash over him that he hadn’t felt so strongly since he landed in America after his tour in Vietnam.

As he got ready Sunday morning for his service, he realized now he had to do his part—he was going into the game.  He had never done anything close to an exorcism in all his years as a priest.  He knew about them, had a slight idea of the process, but was far from confident in pulling it off.  He had also heard rumors that priests had died in the past performing them. 

He was calm when awoke, but thinking about the exorcism during mass, allowed anxiety to rush back into his nerves.  After the service he would get a ride to Vlad’s new house.  He would read the Bible and then exorcise a vampire.

Weeks ago he feared for his life as he flew over LA in the hands of a vampire.  Now he was the vampire’s path to salvation. 
The Lord does work in mysterious ways. 
Jasmine gave the second reading.  It was Genesis 22: 1-14,
The Binding of Isaac. 

“Take your son, your only son, whom you love,” Jasmine read the excerpt.  This reading was about God testing Abraham to kill the thing he loved most in the world for the sake of the Lord.  It was the way God tested you. 
He wants to know what you are willing to do, what are you willing to sacrifice?  Are you willing to sacrifice what you love the most? 

Jasmine finished the reading and walked back to her seat.  The mass rose to their feet.  A hymn was led by the organ player.  Pacami kept his eyes on Jasmine. 
Did she deserve to know? 
Pacami wondered what responsibility he had to her.  She had been one of his parishioners for years.  He had known her since she was young, her father was a friend of Father Montes.  Even if Vlad did have the best intentions, he was still a vampire.  Did Pacami owe it to her to tell her? 
Didn’t he have to protect her?  If Vlad ever hurt her, Pacami would never forgive himself.  He didn’t know what to do.  But he felt if he warned Jasmine about Vlad their relationship would end, and then maybe Vlad would choose to stay a vampire.    

Jasmine was the catalyst for Vlad.  She got him moving, got him to do the right thing—isn’t that the sign of a great woman?  Because of her, a war that had lasted for centuries was now over, Radu was dead, and the last master vampire was going to give up his powers.  All of this was inspired by her love.  Pacami had to make Vlad a human again, and eliminate the world of vampires for the safety of the world.  Then, if Vlad truly did give up his powers for a chance with her, he deserved a shot at her love.  What man had given up more for a woman?

After mass Pacami shook hands with the people as they left the church.  Jasmine came up to him.

“Father.”  She had such a beautiful smile that lifted anyone’s mood just by being near her.

“Yes, Jasmine.  I heard about what happened with your boyfriend’s father.  Do you think it was all true?”  He played along like he believed Jasmine was still with Kevin.

“I know it’s true, and he is my
ex-
boyfriend now.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.  Be sorry for the time I was with him.  Let’s just say the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree.”

“I understand.”

She was so innocent, God, I feel so guilty not telling her.