Forever Fearless

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

“The Matarians killed my brother!” Christian objected. “And now you have the audacity to suggest we, Los Luzes, form an alliance with them? Absurdity. Utter insanity!” He pushed up from his chair and rose to his feet, ready to storm out of the room.

“Calm yourself, Christian,” the dark haired female intoned. She waved her arm in the air carelessly, bracelets jangling as she did so, and the distinct aroma of Patchouli wafted through the small room. “First of all, your brother and his husband are not dead, merely sleeping.”

“It’s been over a week. Their bodies are now completely healed,” he said, “and yet they still slumber.”

“You know the issue is not the body…”

“Yeah, Persephone, I know. I realize their souls have departed, but wasn’t that supposed to be your job? Aren’t you the one who claimed to have the ability—being the great necromancer you are—to conjure their spirits?”

The two of them had first met in Christian’s living room, back in Michigan, and the bodies of his brother and his spouse were now stored beneath their feet, in the basement. Persephone had been a consultant, chosen specifically for her unique abilities relating to the spirit world. Like all the members of the Resistance, she was both vampire and human. But she was also a witch.

“I suspect they’ve found peace,” she said. The dispassionate tone of her voice irritated Christian. This was his brother she was talking about. “Richard and Brendan, upon crossing to the other side, were at last reunited, and I’ll be blunt. The light is very hard to resist, especially for one who’s dwelt so long in darkness.”

“Richard didn’t dwell in darkness,” Christian spat. “He learned long ago to embrace his humanity. It was as much a part of him as was his vampire nature.”

“Maybe the darkness that engulfed him was not so literal, my love.”

Christian paced back and forth across the room. “When can we try again?”

“I don’t have anything else to try. I’ve tried to reach them—even you have. Usually when all else fails, a living loved one can draw a spirit back from the other side, but it didn’t work.”

“The bodies are alive. They’re healed! Why can’t we just awaken them?!” The frustration bubbled up from Christian’s core, and he sailed across the room, angrily thrusting his fist through the wall.

“Now, that was productive,” Persephone said, flicking a chunk of drywall from her flowing, jet-black hair. She stood up and walked over to where Christian was standing.

“Is there no one else Richard loved? Perhaps another family member…”

“Colton,” Christian said, his voice a whisper. He hung his head and looked down at the floor, which was now coated with drywall splinters and debris.

“Colton, the Daywalker who escaped that night. Of course. He’s Richard’s son.”

“He’s Richard’s vampire offspring,” Christian clarified.

“But to Richard, he was a son, no?”

Christian sighed, then tossed his head back, flicking his blond hair away from his face. “He referred to Colton as his son, but that boy was more of a problem than he was worth. He should’ve been the one killed…”

“Don’t say such a thing, my dear,” Persephone interrupted. She placed her fingertips against Christian’s forearm. “We need to find him. He’s our only hope for reviving Richard and Brendan.”

“I don’t really care about Brendan. I want my brother!”

“I’m certain that if Richard returns to us, Brendan will follow.”

“If the Matarians have not already tracked Colt down and killed him, he’s likely to have fled the area. But I know how we can find him.”

“Oh?”

“Richard had prepared for emergencies. He had money in overseas accounts, and Colt would have had to access it. I need only follow the trail.”

“Well, if you want to revive your brother, I suggest you do it. Otherwise, there’s not much I can do.”

“But if the Matarians find him first…”

“One more reason you should consider reaching out to them.”

“We’re not forming an alliance with them.” He pointed his finger angrily. “You have no idea the horrors they’ve inflicted upon us—upon our families. Persephone, the Matarians exist for one purpose alone—to exterminate us.”

She never seemed to get riled. Christian had never seen her angry, but now her eyes grew darker and her countenance sobered. “You think I have not suffered loss? You think I do not have family of my own?”

“I…uh, I didn’t mean it like that. But you’re young. You haven’t seen all I’ve seen.”

“I am a young vampire, but an old soul.”

He couldn’t argue with her there.

“Three forces are at work, Christian, battling each other. One of the three is evil…”

“How can this be true?” Christian asked. “If the Pureblood vampires are evil, then so are we, for we are half vampire.”

She shook her head. “It is not their vampire nature that makes the Purebloods evil.

It is the choice they’ve made…the choice as to how to exist.”

“Well, tell that to the Matarians,” he replied, waving his hand in the air. “They see us all the same. They see all vampires, Pureblood or half-breed, as their enemy.”

“I don’t have to tell them, my dear.”

He raised his eyebrows as he looked at her, unsure of what she meant.

“I don’t have to tell the Matarians anything. My sister does.”

~~~~~

“Wake up, Wayne!” Deborah pounded again on his motel room door. She’d have been louder if not afraid of disturbing the occupants of the neighboring rooms. She and Wayne had taken rooms beside each other, and since he wouldn’t drive her out to the Bible camp the night before, she’d made him promise to do so early in the morning.

“Dammit, Wayne, get your ass out of that bed this instant!” Angrily, she kicked the door.

Big mistake! It had been years since she’d kicked up her heels like that, and as she did so, she lost her balance. Flailing her arms in a circular motion, she toppled over backward and landed squarely on her not-so-tiny behind.

At least she had some padding to break the fall, but her tailbone didn’t seem aware of the fact. She winced, not just from the pain, but also from the humiliation. She prayed no one had seen her ridiculous antics.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” The voice behind her proved once again that God doesn’t answer all prayers, at least not in the way she wanted Him to.

She shook her head. “Yes, yes…I just, uh, lost my balance.”

“That’ll happen when you try kicking down a steel door at six o’clock in the morning.” She looked up to see a middle aged man wearing jeans and cowboy boots.

Her gaze traveled up his lean body, beyond the shiny, gold belt buckle depicting a bucking bronco, up to his broad shoulders and smiling, handsome face. He squatted down beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist. She grabbed hold of him and allowed him to assist her back onto her feet.

“I’m sorry. I’m so…uh…embarrassed.”

He smiled. His face, etched with a few tell-tale lines betraying his age, actually appeared quite youthful. Forty-five, fifty, maybe? And his dark brown eyes seemed to sparkle playfully as they made contact with hers. “Ain’t no need to be embarrassed, ma’am. Whoever it is on the other side of that door—well, that’s the one who ought to be embarrassed. Looks like he’s about to get his butt kicked.”

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it,” she said. She straightened her posture and reached down with her palms to smooth out her clothing. “We were supposed to get an early start today, but as usual, my….traveling companion is hung over.”

“You sure you’re okay? Didn’t hurt anything, did you?”

“No, nothing other than my pride.” She offered a weak, apologetic smile. “Good thing I had some padding to land on. My tush might not be so nice to look at any more, but at least it serves a practical purpose.”

He looked behind her, down at her bottom, then raised his eyebrows. “Looks pretty nice to me,” he said, then winked.

She felt her cheeks instantly enflame. “Oh.” What else could she say?

He laughed. “Sorry, ma’am. Guess that was maybe out of line.”

“Oh, you’re fine.” She waved her hand dismissively then elicited a burst of nervous laughter. “You know what they say. Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“That there’s been my experience, ma’am.”

She held out her hand. “Deborah.”

“Hank,” he said, shaking her hand firmly. “You’re not from around here.”

“I’m from Michigan,” she said. “I’m here with my ex-husband.”

“This ain’t exactly a tourist trap,” he said. “Not much to see around these parts.”

“Yeah, well it’s not really a vacation. We’re here looking for my…um, our son. He ran away a few weeks ago, and this is the last place he was seen.”

Hank’s expression sobered. “Sorry to hear that, ma’am.”

“You can call me Debbie.”

He tipped his hat. “Sorry to hear that, Debbie. How old is he?”

“Eighteen. I guess he’d come down here to attend some Bible camp. Are you from around here? Do you know of a camp nearby?”

“I might know something,” he said. “Listen, I’m heading across the street to that little diner for breakfast. Care to join me? I’ll buy you breakfast and tell you what I know while you wait for your ex-husband to get up and around.”

“Oh, well that would be very kind of you, but how about I buy you breakfast?”

“We’ll discuss it.”

He held out his arm for her. She took hold of it, using only the tips of her fingers, and walked with him down the sidewalk. They crossed the street together and stepped into the small café. It appeared similar to the greasy spoons she’d been in up north, except for the country western music on the radio at six in the morning.

“I can’t believe the food down here,” she said as she opened the tri-fold plastic-laminated breakfast menu. “Four eggs? A half-pound of bacon? Who could even think of eating all that?”

Hank laughed. “Well, ya know everything’s bigger in Texas, ma’am…or Debbie.”

“So it seems.” She smiled.

When the waitress came she ordered oatmeal and toast, and Hank requested the Big Texan, the very menu item Deborah had commented on.

“So, you know about the Bible camp?”

He nodded. “I know of a camp not far from here, and it’s often referred to as a Bible camp. It’s private, though, not open to the public. I’d be surprised your son would’ve known anything about it.”

“Well, what kind of camp is it, then?”

“As far as I can tell, it’s some sort of training camp. There was an accident there last week, and several of the campers were killed. Others were injured.”

Deborah leaned forward and reached across the table to take hold of Hank’s wrist.

“Yes! That’s the one. I was told it was a mass wolf attack, and a bunch of kids got killed, but they didn’t find my Robbie.”

She looked directly into Hank’s eyes, and as she did so, she could have sworn she saw something. His expression did not soften, but he appeared steelier than before.

Hardened.

“Do you know something, Hank?”

He shook his head, and his somber countenance softened. “No, I wish I did, but let me ask you something. Have you ever heard of a pack of wolves attacking such a large group of humans…children?”

She never had, but she knew nothing of wolves—wild animals in general. “I don’t know, Hank. But it seems to me they’d be able to tell by the injuries that they’d been attacked by some sort of animal. Maybe they weren’t wolves, but…”

Just then the waitress arrived with their order. Neither spoke for the next couple of minutes as Debbie buttered her toast and prepared her oatmeal with milk and sugar.

Finally, she asked, “What’s your interest in the camp, Hank? Just curiosity?”

“Guess I don’t have a personal interest, really,” he said. “Other than that I have my own ranch a few hours from here. If there’s some sort of rabid wolf pack around, that’s a concern to all of us…especially us ranchers.”

“So that’s why you’re here, staying at the motel? You’re investigating?”

He shook his head. “Let’s just say I’m observing.”

“Observing what?”

He took a sip of his coffee, then set the mug back down on the table. “The start of the next world war, ma’am,” he said.

~~~~~

“I have two sisters,” Dionysia explained. “They both look exactly like me but for the color of their hair.”

“Interesting,” Raoul cooed. He sat, legs crossed at the knee, in his throne-like chair staring with mild interest at the body suspended a few feet in front of him. He raised his hand and flicked his wrist to motion for one of the servants. A naked male slave, slender and no older than eighteen human years, rushed over.

“Yes, Master?” he said, kneeling with his head bowed.

“Refill my chalice,” he said. “Quickly!”

The boy reached up with both hands to take the goblet from Raoul, daring not to make eye contact in the process. He then scurried over to the victim whose wrists were bound to a cross. His legs had been pulled apart and were tied off at the ankles, securing him in an uncomfortable spread-eagle position. The slave leaned in toward the man’s groin and sunk his descending fangs into the tender flesh of his inner thigh. The victim, though gagged, cried out, writhing in his restraints. The slave boy held the goblet beneath the flow of blood, watching it fill up.

“How long will you torture him?” Dionysia asked.

Raoul turned to her, uncertain to whom she was even referring. “Oh…Darien, you mean?” He shook his head slightly back and forth. “Oh, I don’t know. A decade maybe, perhaps a century. I’ll get bored eventually and send him to Hell where he belongs.”

She smiled at him sweetly. “You’re quite the charmer, Raoul. Have I told you how much I admire your genuine sadism?”

He laughed. “You may have mentioned it.”

The servant boy had returned. He handed Raoul the chalice, which he took without comment. “Where is my boy?” he asked, speaking to no one in particular.

Dionysia answered. “Shadi will be down shortly. I believe he’s gone out…perhaps to hunt.”

“Oh, I wish he wouldn’t do that,” Raoul complained. “I’ve told him repeatedly I will provide him with as many victims as his heart desires.”

“My dear, I think he may enjoy the hunt.”

Raoul sighed. “Yes, of course. He’s still so young.”

“And what’s the harm?” she said. “There are so many homeless here in New Orleans. It’s not like anyone will notice.”

“It’s ironic really,” Raoul said, as he took a sip from the chalice, holding it with pinky extended, as if it were a flute of champagne. “Centuries ago, the safest place to be was in the wilderness—the rural communities. They were so riddled with silly superstitions and legends that we could hunt freely. If a killing was detected, the humans always came up with some crazy explanation. Nowadays, the cities provide much better cover. The humans here are all anonymous. Nobody even knows their own neighbors.” He chuckled at the thought.

Just then the door to the chamber opened, and Raoul’s lover emerged. Raoul smiled and motioned Shadi with his finger, curling it slowly toward himself. Shadi’s coy smile excited Raoul, but he willed himself not to give away any of his emotion. Slowly, the young man sauntered over to his chair.

“Are you feeling better, Master?” Shadi asked, bowing his head slightly. He took hold of Raoul’s hand and gently raised it to his lips, then kissed it tenderly before looking up into his eyes.

“Much stronger, my love. I don’t require much time to heal anymore.”

“Well, I’ve fed, and when you drink from me, the fresh blood may help.” Shadi looked at the goblet from which Raoul was drinking. “How can you stomach that putrid half-breed sludge?”

“Ah, my little one is already becoming a connoisseur, I see. But I don’t drink Darien’s blood for the taste. I simply enjoy watching him suffer.”

Shadi rolled his eyes. “Just put him out of our misery, Master. Please. I can hardly stand to look at him.”

Raoul placed the tip of his index finger on Shadi’s pouty lips. “You’re so beautiful when you get emotional.” He smiled at his young lover. “And speaking of beauty, why hasn’t Aaron returned with your brother?”

Shadi stiffened as he glared into Raoul’s eyes. “Please, sir, let’s not discuss that.”

“Aw, you’re jealous.” Raoul laughed, this time heartily. He turned to Dionysia’s smiling face, and they cackled evilly together. “Don’t you worry, my love. You’ll always be number one to me. When I’m not using him, you can keep him as your slave.”

“Or pet,” Dionysia suggested.

“There you go,” Raoul agreed.

“I don’t want a slave or a pet, Master. I only want you.”

“You’re so genuinely loyal,” Raoul said, his voice lilting. He leaned forward, allowing the boy to kiss him on the lips. He held out his goblet for the servant to take, and pulled Shadi onto his lap.

“I love you, Master.”

“I know you do, my dear. I know you do.”

They snuggled together as Raoul continued to stare at the prisoner, Darien, who was hanging a few feet in front of them. “I think maybe we should impale him,” he said, as if the idea were an incredible epiphany.

Dionysia smiled, obviously pleased.

Raoul then instructed two of his slaves how to proceed while Shadi continued to curl up on his lap, using his fingertips to trace designs on Raoul’s exposed chest.

“Master, it’s going to make a terrible mess…all that blood and guts all over the floor.”

“Shh, little one.”

Raoul watched as the slaves unbound Darien’s ankles, then tied them together with a much shorter rope. They wrapped the short rope around the pole to which Darien was suspended, and then they positioned a spear beneath him, sticking straight up.

Only the tip of the spear entered the prisoner’s anus.

“Now loosen the restraints on his wrists,” Raoul instructed. “Give them just a tiny bit of slack, then add another inch every half hour.” Gravity would do the trick. Every time the wrist restraints were loosened, he’d slip down on the spear a little farther. It was such delicious torture, especially seeing the way he’d try to find purchase with his feet to push himself upward…but of course that wasn’t possible.

The chamber slowly began to fill up with other servants and fledgling vampires.

Raoul enjoyed being surrounded by beauty. He liked watching his minions mate with each other, and he generally provided them with human victims to play with.

Though not a big fan of modern technology, Raoul had relented a few decades prior, and finally agreed to pipe in music. He’d had a state of the art stereo system installed, and then, of course, had to update it several times. At first he missed having live musicians performing, but he’d grown to appreciate the quality of the surround sound.

As the chamber started to fill with bodies and the music began to surge a little louder, Raoul guided Shadi off his lap and positioned him on his knees before him. The dais was equipped with a special kneeling platform designed specifically for this purpose.

“Pleasure me, little one,” he commanded.

Shadi eagerly reached up and used his hands to separate Raoul’s thighs, then quickly found his engorged member with his mouth, devouring it in one smooth, downward movement.

“Ahh,” Raoul moaned. He turned and nodded to Dionysia.

She rose from her chair and gracefully glided to the center of the room where she raised both hands above her head. She placed the fingertips of each hand together, pointing them upward in a triangular pattern. And then she began to chant. Softly at first, she murmured in perfect rhythm to the music.

As she continued, Shadi began to suck harder, taking the full length of Raoul’s c**k down his hungry throat. He began to bob on Raoul in time with chanting.

All those around him began to respond to the combined effect of the monotonous chanting and seductive beat of the music. Dionysia grew louder, and the beat of the music seemed to increase as well. Soon it was as if the music was flowing through Raoul’s body. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to become lost in the sensation.

Shadi continued to service him.

Soon the entire chamber morphed into a massive orgy. Slaves were f*****g and sucking, crying out and moaning, and the frenzy of their lovemaking further increased the s****l energy in the room as Dionysia swayed back and forth, her elegant silk robe billowing as she gyrated her hips. When Raoul opened his eyes he could see the intoxicating waves surge from Dionysia’s body, flowing outward. Her chant was turning the vampires into s****l animals. Beasts.

Raoul grabbed hold of Shadi’s head and began to thrust, impaling his throat with his c**k in much the same way the spear was now impaling Darien. He f****d Shadi’s skull harder and harder, pumping his slave-boy lover mercilessly on his throbbing c**k.

He looked straight ahead, smiling as he stared at the helpless victim suspended a few feet in front of him. Just as he reached that glorious point of no return, the ropes on Darien’s wrists slackened once more and the weight of his body descended onto the spear tip. Darien cried out in agony, blood erupting from his mouth around the ball gag, right at the exact second Raoul blasted his load deep into Shadi’s throat.

Sated, he slumped back into the chair, and Dionysia’s voice gradually grew fainter.

The music quieted, and Shadi looked up into his Master’s eyes.

“You’ve pleased me, little one,” Raoul said, “but we absolutely must find your brother.”

“Yes, sir,” Shadi whispered. “Anything for you, Master.”