Reign of the Vampires (2 page)

His heart sank. A black SUV sat on the other side of the turnoff. The doors were open and several people stood below, talking. Mason sniffed the air, but he couldn’t smell them yet. Three of them moved across the road to the turn off. He watched one bend and point at tracks from the vans. The three people turned, talking to someone across the street. The person across the street said something, and then pulled out a cell phone.

They’d found this hiding spot a year and a half ago, choosing it for its remote location. They were more than a mile off the main road in the hills. Vampires rarely traveled out this direction for fear of getting caught in the sunlight.

“We have to get out of here.”

“How?” Ike asked. “That’s the only way in or out.”

“Then we go higher up, on foot.”

“We won’t make it. We—”

Mason’s body shook and his eye twitched. “See that Vampire across the road, by the SUV?” Mason pointed. “He’s on the phone calling for a second and possibly a third vehicle. They’re slavers and they aren’t leaving without us. We have to move further up, and wait them out till the sun rises.”

Ike stared at Mason, then down at the Vampires below. “How did they find us?”

“Not relevant at this point.” Mason crawled away from the edge and ran flat out for the campsite. “We need to move.”

“Everyone up,” Ike commanded. The three men shook everyone awake.

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s going on?”

“Is it morning?”

“We have to move.” Ike took charge. “Slavers are at the bottom of the hill.”

There was a frantic rush of movement. People pulled on their shoes and coats, and Mason stomped on the fire with his heavy boots.

“What do we do?” asked Jax.

“We have to go further up on foot and try to wait them out,” said Mason.

“That’s crazy. We can’t go on foot.”

“No choice.” Mason grabbed his coat and threw it over his arm.

“Mason, you take Whitey, Nita, and Sheila and head north.” Ike continued to break down the camp into groups, but Mason had already rushed to the van to grab packs for everyone. It might be a day before they were able to get back. And if they did, there was no telling whether there would even be anything left. They needed supplies.

Whitey caught up to him. “What can I do?”

“Take these packs and give them to the girls.” Mason shoved the packs into Whitey’s hands.

He sniffed the air; the slavers were close. “Let’s move,” he said to the women. “Ike,” Mason called in a low voice. Ike looked up from his pack. “Move it. They’re close.”

Ike nodded. “Meet here tomorrow if you last the night.”

Mason nodded.

Controlled chaos ensued as the group split up. This was his fault.

His heavy boots pounded on the rocky, packed earth of the mountainside. He had to keep them safe. Waves of anxiety flooded him. Memories of his own childhood as a Vampire slave flashed into his mind.

A scream rang out behind them as he hit the tree line on the opposite side of camp. He turned momentarily to make sure the girls were still with him. “Come on,” he yelled.

The damp, chilled air smelled of an impending rainstorm. Mason scanned the sky. Please let it stay dry till they hit a cave.

It took everything he had to keep moving away from the battle. His instinctual nature told him to turn around and go back. The cries of those still in the camp were like wine to his inner beast, which begged to be set free.

He sprinted onward, trees whipping by. The animals in the forest fell silent. Predators had entered their domain, forcing them into the same hiding that Mason required.

The group continued on. Whitey lagged behind.

“We’ll stop in another mile,” Mason told the group. “Keep moving.”

Whitey nodded, breathing heavily.

The women held hands, whispering encouragement to each other. What happened to females put into the slave markets was no secret. Used for breeding or as blood slaves if they were pretty and as house servants if they weren’t.

The small group continued for twenty minutes before Nita tripped and stumbled. Sheila stooped to help her up.

Mason held up a hand and listened for a moment before nodding. The three humans fell against the nearest trees, trying to catch their breath.

He scanned the area, his eyes seeing clearly in early morning light. This couldn’t be happening. He’d spent hundreds of years avoiding Vampires, and now they were hot on his trail. He needed to find a place for them to hide, quickly.

“Do you think...we’re safe?” Whitey panted. He glanced around from behind thick spectacles.

“There...is no...safe,” replied Nita.

“Take a small drink from your packs,” said Mason. “We have to keep moving.”

He waited as the humans drank from their canteens. When Sheila handed her water to him, he refused. They’d need it more than he would. “Let’s go. We still have several miles to climb.”

A twig snapped. He put his finger to his lips. The moon shone down on the hillside. There was nowhere to hide except up in the trees. But trees wouldn’t keep them safe from Vampires. He located a large tree with a hole in the bottom a few feet away. He pointed to it. The women crouched down low to the ground and crawled inside. Whitey stood beside Mason as if to fight. Mason pushed him in the direction of the hole. Whitey shook his head. Mason shoved Whitey harder and pointed at the tree. Whitey wavered for a minute, and then headed to where the women hid.

It wasn’t big enough for all of them. Whitey lay on his belly covering himself with leaves as much as possible.

A rustle sounded closer than before. Mason turned in the direction of the sound, peering into the trees. It wouldn’t be long.

He jumped and caught the lowest branch of a tree. He pulled himself up and crouched on the branch, waiting. Minutes passed. A tall, thin, shadowy figure emerged from around a rock about fifty yards away. As the figure got closer, it paused and sniffed the air. A wide grin spread across its cold, pale face.

“Come out, come out, little piggies,” the Vampire taunted.

Mason’s anger stirred. Heat flushed his cheeks as his blood boiled. The scent of blood wafted from the Vampire’s direction. Smoke rose from where Mason’s palm lay flat against the trunk of the tree. Embers charred beneath his fingers. He took a deep breath. He had to calm down before he caught the whole mountainside on fire. Swallowing the air in huge gulps, he tried soothing the beast inside. When he opened his eyes, the male stood no more than ten feet away.

“I smell your fear. Come out and I’ll spare your lives, unlike those you left behind. It is better to be a slave to kings than dust on the ground, like they are.”

The Vampire sniffed the air again. His brows furrowed and his gaze darted around the area.

Just a little bit to the right.
As if hearing Mason’s thoughts, he moved, opening his mouth to speak again. Mason jumped, knocking the Vampire to the ground. He rolled away and leapt to his feet in a heartbeat, baring his fangs. His eyes widened as Mason straightened to full height.

“You will fetch a fortune at the slave auctions.” He laughed.

“Not in your lifetime,” Mason replied.

“We shall see.” His eyes glittered with foul humor.

The Vampire struck first, but Mason caught him mid-air, lifting him off his feet. The shock on the male’s face was more than satisfying.

He hadn’t been this close to a Vampire in almost fifty years. Again he was bombarded with memories of his childhood as a Vampire slave. The struggling Vampire clawed Mason’s biceps, his legs flailing, trying to make contact with Mason’s ample thighs. Anger and terror burned inside Mason. His hand tightened around the Vampire’s throat. The heat that’d been building inside poured out of his palm.

The male’s neck charred and blackened. Mason smiled at the sight. His inner beast howled in triumph over the death he’d caused. Mason’s thoughts were interrupted by pain bursting through his gut. He staggered into the tree trunk clutching his side.

The Vampire fell to the ground gasping and choking, noxious smoke pouring from his open mouth. He clutched the gaping wound at his throat while the other hand held a gun.

Damn!
Dark blood seeped into Mason’s brown T-shirt. He covered the wound, trying to staunch the flow. The wound wouldn’t kill him, but it would slow them down.

The Vampire lay choking on his own fluids. His eyes locked with Mason’s and he raised his gun, trying to take aim. Mason’s vision blurred and he fought against the pain in his side.

Whitey popped up from his hiding place and reached into his backpack. Running at the Vampire, he plunged a large hunting knife deep into the male’s throat. Blood spurted from the wound. The male’s eyes widened then dimmed. Falling face first, he hit the ground without a sound.

Whitey sat down with a thump, staring at the body.

Mason sucked in a ragged breath, clearing his head. “We have to move. More will come.”

Whitey sat motionless as the women crawled out of the tree. Mason pulled himself up, the burn from his wound paining him with every movement. He ripped off his shirt and tore it into strips, then tied the strips around his midsection as tight as he was able. It hurt like hell, but it helped. His white undershirt was soaked with blood, but there was no way he was taking it off and chancing the humans seeing his chest and back.

He pulled the gun from the dead Vampire’s hand and put it in his waistband. Then he yanked the knife from the Vampire’s throat and decapitated him. He wiped the large knife on his pants.

He pushed the knife handle into Whitey’s trembling hand. “Take it. You’ll need it again.” Mason grabbed his pack. Adrenaline coursed through him still and his mind replayed the feeling of burning the Vampire. He tried not to like it.

“Come on, Whitey.” Nita said. The small group took off again, moving slower this time.

Sheila caught up to him a few minutes later. “You need help, Mason.”

He shook his head. “Keep moving.”

“Let me look at it at least. I used to be a nurse before—”

He gave her a hard stare. “Sheila, I’ll be fine.”

“Well, don’t come to me when it gets infected.”

They’d been traveling for an hour when he stopped to lean on a tree. The pain from his wound had become no more than a dull ache. The healing had begun. If he didn’t get the bullet out soon, it was going to be a trick trying to get it out at all.

He looked at their surroundings. The trees had thinned and the moon shone down brighter around them. Whitey pulled out his water, handing it to Mason. Mason waved it off, but Whitey persisted.

“You’re bleeding. You need this,” Whitey said.

“I’ll be fine.”

“How did you do that?” Nita asked.

“Do what?” Mason knew what she meant.

“Burn that Vampire.”

“You must have seen it wrong.” He let out a labored breath. He couldn’t afford to have them go around telling their people he’d burned a Vampire with his bare hands.

Mason adjusted his pack and straightened to leave when he heard it. Several beings rushed through the trees just south of where they stood. He turned to Whitey. “You have to take them.”

“No. I...I...can’t,” Whitey stammered.

“They can smell my blood. They’ll find me if I keep going with you. My blood will cover your scents. That’s why I came this far with you. Keep moving for another hour. They’ll give up because of the sunrise. Go to the top of the mountain. There should be caves in a few more miles. Build your fire in the back, but not too big. Huddle together for warmth if needed. I’ll meet up with you and Ike later.”

“We’re not leaving you,” said Nita.

“Go now,” Mason urged.

“No,” said Sheila. “You’re part of our group. We’re stronger together, besides who would we be if we left you?”

“Survivors.”

“We aren’t leaving.” Nita brandished her hunting knife. “You wouldn’t leave us.”

There wasn’t time for this conversation. “Do you have any idea what they do to human females?”

“We’re not going. Deal with it.” Sheila flashed her own knife.

Mason breathed deeply. He smelled three slavers. The lingering scent of death surrounded them, and he wondered how many they’d killed from the camp.

He pointed. “Into the trees. If it looks like I need help, help. Otherwise, stay put.” He ripped the bandage from his stomach, and stuck his fingers into the oozing wound. Staring at his hand, he located the beast within him and called it forth. His fingers lengthened and thinned as long curved nails sprouted sharp as razors. Bracing himself on the tree trunk, he dug a claw into his side, probing for the bullet. Hooking it with his nail, he ripped it from his wound. Pressing his lips shut, he stifled a cry of pain. The skin on his arms darkened in the moonlight and his facial bones shifted. He steadied his breathing and concentrated on the sounds of the Vampires moving closer. Pushing the beast back, he willed it to sleep.
Not yet. It’s not your time.

His hand normalized. Rich blood flowed onto his palm from the wound. He let it pool there before wiping it on the tree behind him. He dropped the bullet to the ground. Turning, he wiped more blood on the tree Sheila had leaned on.

He ran from tree to tree, rubbing his bloodied hands on them. He hung scraps of the soaked shirt on limbs, or threw them on the ground, doing anything to cover the scent of others. He trudged higher up the hillside. His side burned with each step.

The Vampires approached from downwind. Mason stopped marking the trees and turned. Three pairs of cold, dead eyes stared at him.

“You killed my brother,” said one. “Now I’m going to kill you, human.”

Mason didn’t answer.

The Vampire took a step forward, but was caught by the arm.

“Clive only pays if they’re alive,” said a female.

“I don’t care.” The male jerked his arm away. “He killed Jaren.” The tall, thin Vampire with crooked teeth returned his attention to Mason, and stepped forward again.

“Yvette’s right, Marco. This one should fetch a good price at auction. Look at the size of him.”

“And his scent, it’s enough to send me into a frenzy.” Yvette took a step forward herself. “He smells so intoxicating. So much rich, warm blood.”