15 - Josep
What’s one more day?
Little Baby is life . She is my new purpose.
We are lying together on the floor of my cave, panting and sweating from the sex, and this, I think, is my first experience of bliss that is not about blood.
She’s on top of me, her soft breath fluttering against my chest like butterfly wings, and she is sleeping.
I love.
I am able to love.
It’s a surprise because loving her was not my intention. I had imagined a slave. Sex, blood, whatever I desired her to do—to me, for me—I saw her doing it.
But a slave isn’t real. And ever since the Darkness tricked me into thinking it was Little Baby while I was underground, I can’t seem to get it out of my mind.
What is real?
I admit, I haven’t thought about it much. And it helps that the Darkness explained that it and I are the same, I just forgot we were the same.
But it’s the Darkness .
And the Darkness doesn’t have regrets, or attachments, or ponder the meaning of life. It’s unable to do any of those things because it exists outside of time. Without time, there is no progression. Without progression, there is just… well. Darkness.
But the Darkness does have one thing: Goals.
Or, more accurately, a goal.
It wants to be in this realm with us . Just because this realm belongs to it doesn’t mean it can partake.
It wants to partake. To be vampires and humans. Plant and animal. It wants blood and sex. And it needs both good and evil—black and white—to fully exist. It needs this or else it is just insanity.
I wouldn’t care if it was tricking me if Little Baby wasn’t here. I wouldn’t care because before her I truly was the Darkness. I realize that now. The Josep who came before Little Baby is someone other than the Josep who came after.
My arms are wrapped around my new precious demon as she sleeps and my thumb is absently stroking her shoulder.
She must be real.
I must not accept anything less than real.
So she is the reason that I gently roll her off me and cover her up with a fur. Then I stand over her, looking down at her face, glowing and pink with life.
She can’t be another illusion, she just can’t. If this little demon was the Darkness, she would be talking to me. Trying to make sure I was doing my job. Trying to influence me and keep me on track.
But she’s not.
It’s enough to convince me for now. And I have things to do.
Not because the Darkness wants me to, but because I need to keep her safe. I need to provide her a future. And at this point, there is only one way to do that.
Kill Paul.
Has he always been trying to kill me? Dark Me, specifically. Not Josep Me.
I don’t think so.
I understand that he was sent on a mission and that mission did involve annihilating the Darkness, so at first glance my logic appears to fail. But becoming a vampire is a disorienting process. The past few days alone are proof of that.
You get lost. It’s hard to find reality. You forget things. Things like… you and the Darkness are actually one and the same. Or things like… you’re on a mission from God.
So while I’m sure it was there, inside him, this hatred for me—I’m not convinced that he understood it.
Which is why I went along with many of his ideas.
The Vampire Paul is an infection and he’s contagious. It was easy to get caught up in his plans.
Especially the American Vampires.
There can only be one king.
Just one, no more.
And I’m not talking about one American king, either.
One World King. One king to rule over everything in this realm.
This is how it was written in the Book.
There is but one, he rules us all.
And that One is me.
For I am the Darkness.
And this world was my promise.
I leave my bunker and go upstairs. The floor of the grand foyer is stained with the blood of halfbreeds where I poisoned them using the girl called Echo.
My head tips up and I smell the air. Paul was here and so was Ryet. Recently. Looking around, I realize Ryet is on the other side of the lodge. Close. So close my sensitive ears can hear him talking to his little Black witch.
But I am not interested in Ryet. He will be dead long before this is over. Whatever Paul did to try and save him, it won’t be enough.
I always knew Paul would betray me for Ryet. How could he not? Ryet is his firstborn. A true vampire. He’s a magnificent achievement, even I will admit that.
My feelings for Little Baby and Dark Baby are the same. There are powerful threads of loyalty attaching me to them.
I knew this was coming and I prepared.
Ryet, as far as I’m concerned, is not worth my time. He’s going to die and Syrsee will be the one to kill him.
Smiling, I turn towards the door and walk out into the sunshine.
The air is cool and crisp and the breeze passing across my naked body feels magnificent. The path to the cave is nothing but a deer trail, but it’s a well-traveled one, so it’s not hard to follow. But even if it were, I would know the way—not because I’ve used this path before, but because there are fresh footprints in the dirt.
My scions.
Mine .
Not Paul’s.
Mine.
They belong to me , the Darkness. Yes, they fed on Ryet and Syrsee and both of these creatures are technically Paul’s. But Paul has no access to the Darkness except through me.
Did he really think I would hand over all that power without a down payment?
Without assurances?
Without precautions?
I chuckle as the cave entrance comes into view, thinking about how I carved up Little Baby’s body with all those symbols. How I put my plan into blood. Then I laugh out loud about how, in the end, I have only ever been praying to myself. Only ever been begging myself for more power.
It was me, checking me.
It was me, empowering me.
I am a genius.
I am the Darkness.
And this is my world.
The scions are sitting on the floor of the cave entrance when I enter, but as soon as they see me, they jump to their feet.
I take them in as they stand, silent and with bowed heads.
A few of them are naked, but some still have tatters of clothes on. All of them are dirty since they all came up from the ground.
They are pale, and gaunt, and actually look like walking death because they are starving.
They need blood and none of these former men have their own personal little Black witch.
Which means they need me.
“It is time to feed,” I say, panning my arms wide like the Messiah I am.
Some of them start to weep. A few fall to their knees. None of them rush me because all of them know better.
“But before we do that,” I continue, “I need to explain your objective here. Look at me. All of you, look at me.”
They do this. Their eyes are all blood red, a sign of severe starvation. They are trembling with anticipation and hunger pangs.
“Your objective,” I say, looking into each set of eyes as my gaze sweeps across the group, “is to drink Paul until he is dry. You will each take a long drink, but you will not give it back.”
There is complete and utter silence after these words come out of my mouth and for several long moments, they just stare at me.
Finally, one says, “My lord, how?” He squints his eyes. “How do you propose we do this?”
“And why?” another one adds. “Why would we drink Paul dry?”
“He’s our maker!” a third chimes in.
The rage inside me surges with this last comment. “ He is no one’s maker .” My voice comes out so strong and so loud, it shakes the cave, causing them all to fall to their knees. “ I am your maker! I am the maker of every vampire on this Earth. It was me who made you. Do you understand ?”
One scion presses his forehead to the rocky cave floor, sobbing. Then the rest follow. Not all cry, but they all submit. They have no choice, they are starving.
I suck in a deep breath, calm myself, and then slowly exhale, my words softer now. “Do not doubt me, scions. Blood of my blood. I will feed you now. You will drink my magic. You will drink my power. And then you will use this power to take Paul’s.”
Again, they are silent.
But again, it’s only temporary. “My lord,” one says, the sobbing one. “My lord, why would we want to do this?”
“Why?” I sigh. The obvious answer is because I fucking said so. But that won’t make them more efficient and answering this question honestly will. “Because he betrayed you, scions.” They look up now, even the crybabies. All their blood-red eyes find mine. “He poisoned you.” They start mumbling. “On purpose. You were never meant to ascend. Never. Paul only cares about Ryet. You were a way to experiment with blood while he used all his knowledge of Dark genetics to build up Ryet. Ryet, Ryet, Ryet—it always goes back to Ryet. Everything Paul does is about Ryet.”
Of course, I was part of this plan as well, but they don’t need to know that.
They look at each other now, confused.
But, as expected, this confusion turns to anger pretty quickly. They are starving . This is a bad thing for vampires and an even worse thing for scions. It’s not a good look nor does it foster patience.
So they start bitching. I let them do this for several seconds, then put up a hand. “Silence.” Which makes them stop, because obviously, I pushed their mute button. I needed to tell them about draining Paul to get them on board, but we’re not going to discuss it further. Time is ticking and Paul’s death awaits us. I didn’t have to tell them anything, I could just direct them to do what I want, but Paul is part maker. I hate that, of course. But it’s true. So I need them committed to this task. I need them to resist him. One of them alone could not harm Paul in the least. But all of them, plus me?
We’ve got this. As long as they stay focused.
So I focus them.
“Line up right here.” I point to the cave floor in front of me. “It’s time to feed.”
There are about two seconds here where they check themselves, making sure they heard me right. Then they clamber into line, pushing and fighting a bit as they jostle for position.
I beckon the first in line forward and he covers the few steps between us licking his fangs, hunger in his eyes.
My smile is wide as I place my hands on his cheeks. “Pledge yourself to me, son. Pledge yourself to me and me only , and you may drink my blood until you’ve had your fill.”
He blinks, stunned. “My… fill ?”
“You can take as much as you like. Take it all, if you can. I’ll make more blood.” He leans in, but I stop him with a flat hand on his chest. “First, you pledge.”
“I pledge, my lord! I fuckin’ pledge!”
I take a claw, swipe it across his neck, open it up, let the blood spill until he collapses, and then I bend down, open my wrist, and let my blood pour into his mouth.
I look up at the stunned scions waiting in line, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. “Don’t worry,” I say, my voice soothing and calm now. “This won’t kill him. I am merely replacing his inferior blood with mine. And you all will get the same.” I narrow my eyes. “If you pledge.”
They nod, but not enthusiastically. Most of them are staring at the man on the ground at my feet. He’s not moving. The blood I’m feeding him is pooling into his mouth, un-swallowed. So they are not convinced.
Fools.
It takes several long and painfully stress-filled minutes for the blood to drain out of this scion completely. But drain out it does. By this time, he is a shriveled-up husk and nearly unrecognizable.
The watching scions start murmuring, but then, just as they are losing all hope, this one coughs and sputters. Blood comes flying out of his mouth.
His eyes open, focus on mine, then he comes at me like a fiend, grabbing for my neck.
Of course, he will not be feeding on my neck. I press my wrist into his mouth and he grabs at my hand instead, sucking on me, drawing out my blood in long drinks the likes of which he’s never experienced before.
It feels good. So I smile and sway on my feet a little.
I don’t know how long it takes before he is full. Twenty or thirty minutes, maybe? Then he stumbles away, presses his back up against the cave wall, and slides down it, slumping into himself like a heroin addict.
I look back at my waiting scions. There are dozens of them, so it’s gonna take a while. But after waiting thousands of years, what’s one more day?
I beckon the next in line with a crooked finger and he attacks me while I laugh and cut open his neck to drain him dry and fill him back up.