The Journal of Vincent Du Maurier Trilogy (Books 1, 2, 3) (39 page)

Entry 4

They call him the Hummingbird for his agility, but
he’s actually a twelve hundred year old Toltec warrior who’s been a vampire
since the rise of the Aztec empire. Huitzilli is wild, and almost always
starved for blood. The Empress keeps him well fed, in exchange for his
protection. He’s not her bodyguard, per se, but they have a history and my
maker holds him in high regard, if not with affection.

“All you need to know is that he belonged to the
most prestigious warrior class in Mesoamerica—the Shorn Ones,” Peter
said.

I didn’t ask him what a shorn one was, but he
answered my question with a gesture, telling me I was about to find out. He
brought me to Huitzilli’s cabin, which was down in steerage, near the ring.
Peter didn’t knock on the warrior’s door, but entered as if he was expecting
us. Huitzilli wasn’t alone, but was in the midst of gorging on a stalky woman
with breasts the size of melons, which were sitting overtop her dress and
supported by the vampire’s groping hand. A much older man also clung to him,
his legs wrapped around the giant mass of a vampire. The two humans looked like
snakes entwined about the trunk of a redwood. Huitzilli’s body was lean, but
not compared to theirs.

“Ah, my novice,” he said, throwing the humans off
him like discarded candy wrappers. “Come. Eat.”

Despite the enticing smell of the blood and the
vibrant colors of the humans, I wasn’t interested in feeding on his second
helpings. Luckily Peter read my mind, refusing for me and thanking the
Hummingbird for his generous offer. Huitzilli would have intimidated me if I’d
thought I’d angered him—I should pause here to describe his features, for
they’re remarkable. His frame is no bigger than mine but he’s muscular, and wears
his head shaved, except for one long braid over his left ear. His shorn head is
colored, half blue and half red, and at first I thought it was paint, but soon
realized it’s ink. He also has the head of a jaguar tattooed on his back. He
wasn’t wearing a shirt, and didn’t put one on either, but wore several gold
chains with Aztec medallions, and a pendant with an animal fang. His jewelry
doesn’t dampen his ferocity, or make him seem any less capable of stomping out
anything in his way. And his sensuality is arresting. My flesh tingled when I
laid eyes on him, my venom curdling in my veins—I was libidinally aroused
for the first time since my awakening. His frequency subdued me—it’s like
the hypnotic purr of a wild cat.

Huitzilli pushed Peter aside, who stood slightly in
front of me, and came right up to me, putting his forehead against mine. He was
slightly taller than me, but leaned down to make the connection. I could smell
the fresh blood on his breath. “You are mine, then,” he said. “Aren’t you?”

I lost my ability to speak, not realizing his
contact abducted my sense of reason. His Aztec magic was potent. He jelled my
thoughts and wrangled them, placing them into a cauldron to sift through at
will. My newly acquired intellectual prowess had turned to mush, and I even
forgot how to speak Mandarin. Huitzilli chuckled with a deep roar that reminded
me of another.

“Tepin,” he said. “I’ll call you novice no more.
Tepin is your name.” The moniker was meant as a term of endearment, and Peter
told me later that the word is Nahuatl for “little one.” I’ll admit the
impression Huitzilli left on me was far more effective than the one I’d given
him.

When he pulled his forehead from mine, he bared his
subtle fangs and then drew his thumb across my lips. My fangs pierced the
inside of my mouth, drawn out by his soft touch. “Let’s waste no time,” he
said. “The ring awaits.” He addressed me in Italian, and though my skill for
Mandarin returned the moment he released me from his mind trap, I wondered if
there wasn’t a consistent mode of parley on the ship, despite the babel of
vampire tongues.

I followed Huitzilli and Peter through the
passageway to the ring. It was empty since matches didn’t begin until
sundown—one of the only ways I knew the time of day. I’d lost track of
the hours, and couldn’t possibly know how long it’d been since I was there
last, aiding the lanky vampire to defeat his bearish competitor. Steerage was
different when the ring was empty, the energy was dead and the vessel felt like
a ghost ship. I wondered where all the vampires had gone, and Peter whispered,
“They’re collecting the art,” though I didn’t know what that meant.

“Tepin,” Huitzilli said. “Lie down.”

I learned firsthand why he was named the
Hummingbird. If his skills in the ring were to emulate any species, it would be
the hoverer. Huitzilli was able to levitate, for lack of a better term. When
the great Toltec warrior became a vampire, he was gifted with the will to defy
gravity, and like a helicopter, he could hover in midair, keeping his body up
in a manner that broke the laws of aerodynamics. Nobody knew his secret, though
many have tried to uncover his magic. Despite his freakish ability, he is also
skilled in offensive techniques that are useful to a novice, which is why
Vincent chose him to head up my tactical training. The great Toltec warrior, a
member of the Shorn Ones, would school me in body movement and teach me how to
survive the ring.

I obeyed Huitzilli and dropped to the deck, lying on
my back.

The warrior laughed. “On your stomach,” he said.

I turned over and before I could straighten myself
out, he launched his fist into my lower spine, pinning me down. He laughed
again and said, “Now get up.”

I tried to lift my body, but it was impossible
against the Hummingbird’s force, as he continued to press down with his entire
weight. “Get up, Tepin,” he said again. I obeyed, sliding my arms beneath me to
try to prop my chest up off the deck. He pushed down harder, almost boring a
hole through my lower spine. “Up,” he said a third time. I renewed my effort,
this time placing my hands down flat on the deck and trying to snap my
shoulders back for momentum. He laughed again, which relieved the tension in
his fist, and I renewed my effort to gain some ground. My body was bent in
half, as I curved my spine backward to peel my chest off the deck. “Good,
Tepin,” he said, though he slammed his other fist into the middle of my back.
“But not good enough.”

I don’t know how long he had me pinned, but Peter
came and went, and at one point a donor came in to feed Huitzilli, though I
went hungry. Fresh and nourished when we’d started, I soon felt my force wane.

I can’t say what finally brought my willpower to a
head and got me off the deck—if it was something outside of me, or that
deep-seated anger raging in my belly. As Huitzilli’s weight continued to crush
me, I decided to stop resisting, and though I was ordered to get up, I released
the tension from my body and let myself melt into the soiled deck. This was the
trick, this was how I got myself up. As the weight bearing down on me
increased, my own mass grew lighter, and like a sheet of paper pulled out from
beneath a rock, I slid my body sideways until I’d freed myself from the fist.
But that wasn’t the end of it, for my body actually rose up off the deck with
my lightness of being. I defied gravity for a brief moment, just like
Huitzilli, until I realized I was floating and came crashing down onto the deck
again.

“Excellent, Tepin,” he said. “You only took half the
time I anticipated. You’re Xing Fu’s progeny after all. Now, come, show me
something greater.”

Huitzilli made me face him and asked me to hold my
arms behind my back. I obeyed and watched him eagerly, as I awaited my next
order. But he surprised me and leaned in, placing his forehead on mine again,
though this time he didn’t steal my thoughts. I’d worn my hair down for as long
as I could remember, but Huitzilli reached for my mane, grabbing a thick mess
of hair in his hand, and then fastened it up into a high ponytail on my head.
He tied it with a ribbon, stringing the silk down through the strands and
braiding it with my ponytail. When he reached the bottom, he used the excess
ribbon to bind my wrists, bringing my hands shackled together. When he’d
finished, which was almost instantly, he stood back and admired me. I couldn’t
move my hands, and my head was pulled back to expose my neck, which meant I had
to turn sideways to see him. “Good,” he said. “Much better.”

This is when his demeanor shifted and the sensual
vampire with whom I’d felt safe changed into a wild thing. The sound of his
purr had tricked my senses, making me oblivious to all else, but when the
Hummingbird showed his true nature, I banished his signal from my headspace to
concentrate.

Huitzilli slapped me first, and then swiped his
talons down the side of my face. He smiled and laughed, urging me to defend
myself. I raised a leg to kick him, but he easily avoided me and shoved his
fist into my gut. I tossed my hip to the side, trying to dodge him, but only
shifted from my spot and almost lost my balance. Huitzilli used my weakness
against me, and pushed me to the deck. Not giving up, I struggled to lift my
body. Hungry and losing energy, I weighed more than ever and without my hands,
it was difficult to stand. Huitzilli made high-pitched vocal sounds, wild
calls, and soon the mezzanine overlooking the ring was crowded with vampires.
The space filled with the jeers of bloodlust, as the troop chanted for
Huitzilli to finish the novice. I scanned the deck for Peter, but he was nowhere
in sight, and I couldn’t hear anything but the cacophony of frequencies and
Huitzilli’s war cry.

I wouldn’t let humiliation get the better of me and
attempted to thrust my body up by rolling over on my back and rocking myself to
a standing position. Huitzilli took advantage and jumped on my stomach with
both feet. The vampires hissed and whistled, as the warrior pounced a second
time. I was enraged more than defeated, and could feel the bile rise up within
me.

“That’s it, Tepin,” he said. “Come for me.”

The warrior baited me with his condescension, but I
couldn’t gain the advantage. The vampire audience screeched, as their voices
outmatched their frequencies. The chaos of sound got the better of me, as I
struggled to get onto my feet again. I tried to remember how I’d released the
tension in my body to slip out of his original pin, but I couldn’t. My mind was
a haze of confusion. I was starved and hard as I tried to break my hands free,
the tighter the ribbon seemed to get. I hadn’t thought about the vulnerability
of my neck, until I heard the vampires’ calls.

“Finish her,” they cried. “Behead the novice.” The
chants arose in multiple languages, as the vicious crew unanimously cheered for
my demise.

“Fight, Tepin,” Huitzilli said. “If you can’t fight,
I must finish you. The rules of the ring are clear.”

I wondered when my training had become a ritual
battle to the death. Huitzilli danced around me, taking shots with his talons
and feet and even his elbows. He fluttered midair and kicked me in the head
twice before I fell again. As I lay on the planks, feeling the weight of my
body, I made my best effort to melt into the deck. I didn’t attempt to get up,
fearful he’d finish me with a slice of his talons. I started to see double, and
colors bled, as everything turned black and white, even Huitzilli’s head ink
dissolved to shades of gray. I couldn’t control the barrage of auditory chaos,
and the jeers of the crowd consumed me.

“Fight,” Huitzilli said. “Get up, Tepin.”

I couldn’t get up. I’d lost the ability to stand,
let alone fight. I no longer felt my anger consume me, but succumbed to the
rush of fear that came with the sight of his iron fangs. Huitzilli smiled, as
he swooped down beside me with an open mouth to dig his fangs into my neck and
rip the jugular from my throat. I shut my eyes, as my body released all the
tension it had stored since my awakening. The darkness was a welcomed sight,
but the silence satisfied me even more.

…

I woke alone on my berth in my compartment. I didn’t
remember the ring until I looked at my hands and witnessed the welts his ribbon
had given me. I was weak, barely able to get up, and closed my eyes again to
let the dizziness pass. I didn’t hear anything, not one frequency or voice,
until the rap on the door. It was a light knock, and I called for the visitor
to enter. When the metal swung open, I was surprised to see the strawberry
blond enter alone.

“May I feed you?” She asked.

I waved her in and gestured for her to join me on
the berth. “I can’t sit up,” I said.

She rushed to my side. “No need,” she said. “I’ll
take care of you.”

She dropped down to her knees on the deck in front
of the berth, and pulled her hair off to one side. When she let her head roll
to her shoulder, I found the strength to move since my fangs longed to bite her
neck. I fed like a glutton, only stopping when she slumped forward. I hadn’t
killed her, but had certainly made her faint. Her blood filled me with more
than satisfaction, as I leaned back to enjoy the high. I looked at my wrists,
admiring how quickly the welts faded. I ran my tongue across my teeth, feeling
the hardening of my gums. I even noticed my nails glisten in the dimness of the
compartment. Once I felt like myself again, I sat up and pulled the girl onto
the berth. She lay unconscious as I admired her. She didn’t appeal to me the
way Hal did, she lacked the color of the humans in the den. She was obviously
different, though her blood tasted similar.