Demon Vampire

Foreword

To the realities that propagate in our minds that we calmly tell ourselves do not exist - I ask you. If the worlds once rendered in a fleeting moment of joy and lust, can paint a vision of truth in sense and touch. Where lies fault in remembrance of those who have fallen from rust? Is it their fate to caste them off as dirt with a rinse as such?

Dreams create reality. They live in us until we give them sustainable form for all to see and hear. They are real. To treat them as less, would be a sin.

- Virgil Allen Moore

Special Thanks

To my loving wife for supporting my vivid imagination.

And to my wonderful fans for reading my story.

Prologue One

“If pain was a memory, time a test, and forgiveness the only measure of good left in this darkness: I will be endlessly tormented by the souls of those who never forgave me for what I became,” his eyes slipped into the embrace of a lucid dream as his voice faded into nothingness again.

Soft seamless skin united against a carapace of faces. White winding lace and flowing rivers of satin were clothed over a beauty that was beyond an all too perfect memory. The details of a gathering, people shaped around a central world filled with a lie woven into the veins of each delicate row. The feeling of a vivid moment returned. It was a sensation fated, meant to be, the years lost, only remembered now as an echo. The pressure of a kiss once so familiar, known, and welcome was there again. It was beautiful, it was everything they both longed and yearned for it to be. It was a union, perfect and loving in all the ways it should have been. It was theirs for the day, a wall of bliss unmatched by the horrors yet to be.

Small flakes of snow fell. They graced everything in sight. Slowly, the sections of white faded to gray and then to deep black. It touched the satin, the pale skin, darkening it with a sinister feel. The light quickly crept away from his eyes. He reached out to his loving bride. Their hands clasped, the pressure of each finger pulling on the next, failing. Blood flowed as her hand ripped away from his. A searing pain developed in the back of his eyes. It gave flashes of pure red, memories that forced him to remember the events that led to that day.

The dream was collapsing. The beauty was losing to the blackness that now covered the world. The pain was overwhelming the bliss that once held the moment. She was gone, his gorgeous wife was no longer there. Her warmth was extinguished, swallowed into the darkness.

The fleeting dream was lost, buried in a sea of experience.

Prologue Two

On an examination table in the basement of a hospital morgue, laid a strange sight. Black and bloody, it rested dead and motionless in its slumber.

“Twelve thirty four, subject doesn’t appear to be human,” the coroner determined with an alarmed look. He spoke aloud into a voice recorder above the table. His eyes paced over the body.

“Then what is it?” the young female medical intern asked reluctantly. “What could do this to someone?” she ran her gloved hand over the wet black plates that covered the whole of the corpse. “There’s no pulse, whatever it is, it’s dead.”

“It’s almost like armor, isn’t it?” the coroner remarked as he examined the lower left side of the creature, “and it’s missing a large piece of its abdomen.”

The intern tried to lift up one of the plates, it didn’t budge, “these are part of its skin.” She traced her fingers over the large wound on its side, “and these appear to be claw marks, or maybe even bites taken out,” she pointed to the edges of the broken plates. There were parts that had been torn at, rendered into pulp. The skin underneath was wet and dark, almost congealed. Blood pooled on the side of the examination table from the open wound. “It’s sad, really. He looks powerful whatever it is.”

The coroner watched in disbelief as he was forced to agree with a nod.

“Look, it’s a type of vampire. Whatever it is, it has fangs. At least what’s left of them,” the intern pulled back the remaining section of the upper left lip. The creature’s face had been ravished. Its lower right jaw bone was exposed. A few of its teeth were missing, but the sharpness of its fangs was clear enough. Its eyes were closed and covered with a black film over the lids. “Someone didn’t like him.”

The coroner sighed, “all this means is more paper work.”

“What do you mean? He’s a dead vampire, there’s not much paper work other than reporting it to the state. It’s someone else’s problem when it comes to figuring out who he was and how long he’s lived.” The intern couldn’t stop staring at the creature’s fangs. It was fascinating to her. She thumbed over them.

“Stop playing with those! He can still cut you,” the coroner shouted. “Besides, you’re overlooking one important thing. There’s a dead vampire on the table. No matter how weird this one is, he’s still in one piece.”

“So?” the intern questioned as she removed her hands from its face.

“So when was the last time you saw the remains of one? Or even heard of any remains?” the coroner crossed his arms. “They never come to us in this condition, this intact. It’s always charred clothing and a few remnants of bone. Or a dried husk if there is any form of a body. But never this, never this - whole of a thing.”

“Is that because it takes a lot to kill a vampire?” the intern guessed.

“Exactly. If this is a murder, than the person doing it usually wants to inflict as much damage as possible. To a vampire that means either sunlight, bleeding them out, or silver to stop their regeneration. But this doesn’t look like any of that. He appears to be torn at by something. This was done by raw force, not by exploiting a weakness. Whoever did this to him was-”

A loud crashing sound rang from the other side of the large open stainless steel room. They both ran to see what had happened.

“Sorry about that. I had placed your wife’s birthday present on the counter before I scrubbed out. I hope it isn’t too damaged from the fall,” the intern sighed and looked at the crumpled edge of the rectangular box that now laid on the floor.

“No, it doesn’t look that bad.” The coroner chuckled, “but that does help me to make a good point.” They walked back to the body on the table. “Let me ask you something. If you wanted to destroy that package, I mean really destroy it, what would you do to it?”

“I don’t know, I guess burn it, put it in a trash compacter or a shredder,” the intern gave it a passing effort as she again felt the stiffness of the black plates on the corpse. They were interwoven into each other, extending from under the skin itself.

“That’s my point. You know that you can burn it, crush it, and chop it up. There isn’t any other reason messing around with any other method. Otherwise, the present wouldn’t be destroyed. It’s the same with a vampire, except that if you fail, you’ll get your throat ripped out,” the coroner lifted up its left hand. It was clawed and covered in the same dark wet plates as the rest of the body, only smaller to allow for finer movement. “This is the part that bothers me. If the murderer did this to him, it means that this was the best way to kill him.”

“I don’t follow,” the intern was stumped as she reached for a fresh scalpel off the sterile tray.

The coroner put the limb down. “If it burns, burn it. If it bleeds, bleed it. If it can be poisoned, poison it. It’s simple with vampires. There are only a few ways to kill them. What troubles me is that if the murderer had to rip a piece of his face and stomach out to kill him, does that mean he couldn’t be killed any other way?”

The intern tried to cut into one of the plates. It didn’t cut. She put the knife down on the side tray. She thought about the enigma for a minute as she paced to the far side of the room and back again. A chill ran down her spine as she read into it.

“Well? Am I wrong?” the coroner followed, waiting for an answer.

There was another crash. This time it was the scalpel that had just been placed on the tray stand.

“You’re not wrong,” a deep voice bellowed out, filling the room. It had a rumble to it that was disturbing, inhuman.

There was a feeling that the air became instantly colder. The intern and the coroner turned suddenly to see the black creature sitting upright on the exam table. It was inches from them. Its eyes were still closed. The black liquid covered them entirely. Its plated skin moved and shifted over its wounded side. It filled itself as they watched. The jaw that was once exposed, closed. The dark substance slid into place to reform the other half of its lips. The face was whole again. The eyes shifted to reveal an unsettling pure white. It was staring at them without real eyes.

The coroner and the intern stood, shivering in place, not knowing how to react. The chill in the room became more pronounced. The intern shivered and the coroner’s hands began to shake at his side.

The creature took in a deep breath, filling its collapsed lungs. It restored itself. The coroner stepped back towards the foot of the table with the intern. They slowly made it to the far end of the room, more than thirty feet from the only door. It was the farthest away from the creature they could get.

“I was having such a nice dream. I hate when I wake up,” the dark voice boomed again, echoing throughout the sterile room. “Another failed attempt,” it was sad, subdued. It jumped down from the table and landed without a sound. It was graceful, too graceful to look like it did. “Did they find my mask?” it asked calmly as it stared at the coroner.

“You didn’t have anything on you when you came in,” the coroner managed to say, shaking as he held his female intern behind him and to the side. He was trembling more than she was. Her right hand gripped his upper arm with all her strength.

The intern shifted her eyes to a clear belongings bag near the door. She said nothing. It was only out of fear that she remembered the small bag that the local examiner brought along.

“I see. Thank you.” The creature disappeared from sight and reappeared next to the bag.

The intern stared in horror. She spoke automatically, under her breath to the coroner, “But he had no pulse, I don’t understand. How did he regenerate without any flowing blood? I read all the reports from the original study in New York. Dr. Thompson was very clear on their regeneration abilities. He shouldn’t even be able to stand right now. Not with that much blood loss.”

The coroner carefully backed into the personnel lockers on that side of the room. He left the intern staring at the dark creature standing in front of them. She was frozen with fear.

“I’m a little different from what you may be used to,” the creature’s booming voice was still horridly out of place with the content of his words. “Herald didn’t know what I was back then.”

The coroner slowly reached into his locker for a gun loaded with silver bullets. It was the only method useful to slow down a vampire with a well-placed shot. He racked back the slide, loading a fresh bullet into the chamber. He was nervous, not sure if he could even hit the creature. He raised his arms up, shaking as he moved. He fired before he could accurately aim. The bullet struck the creature just below its left eye. He had intended to shoot the chest, above the heart. It was a shot that he had been trained for. But this think was not what he was trained to face. He was shaking. He only meant to wound, not kill. He wanted anything just to slow this thing down and study it more. But that window was shut now. The casing hit the floor.

The intern let out a scream as the gun rang out in the confined room. She watched in horror as she began to realize what was actually happening next.

The creature didn’t flinch. The bullet passed straight through, embedding itself into the far concrete wall with a thud. The black plate under its eye shifted and instantly closed the newly created wound in its face. The demon didn’t move, it didn’t breathe. It stood. It stared at the coroner.

The coroner and the intern were frozen with anticipation of the horrors that were about to be taken out on them. He regretted his rash actions and she more completely regretted her entire career choice.

“Who? What are you?” the coroner lowered the gun, figuring it to be near useless. “You shouldn’t be able to heal from that. Not that quickly. Not from silver.”

“The power of silver and the weight of a name no longer hold any value for me. Perhaps one day I will tell someone, but not tonight.” The demon flashed out of sight and in front of the coroner. He squeezed the middle of the barrel with his thumb and index finger and pinched it shut. It folded instantly under the immense pressure.

The intern was barely able to gasp as she witnessed the ease in which the creature displayed its strength.

The demon turned to the intern, “my heart doesn’t beat anymore. My body doesn’t need it to.” He reappeared next to the bag and opened it and took out the mask. He turned back and slid it up, over his black, demonic face. The mask was perfect white with painted dark eyebrows lips and a half smile.

“Why a smile?” the intern asked, accidentally blurting it out through sheer curiosity.

“It’s not a smile,” the creature lowered his head for a moment. “It’s a memory,” he pressed his hand against the swinging door ready to leave. “It’s a smirk,” with his last words, he disappeared again. There was no sound. The door didn’t even sway as he left. He was only gone.

Out on the street, the moon above shined brightly as the creature looked up from a vacant road, “when I look back at how all this happened. How all this began. The fragmented stories that all came together within my mind. I would have never thought it would end up as it did. I think of what happened, what lead to where I am,” he reached into a fold in one of the black plates and pulled out a small journal. He looked down as he opened the red stained pages. He spoke to himself, under his breath, “I read these words and think about the lives they represent. The pain, the memories, the deaths they remember for me. After fifty years, I’ve found I regret everything except that first night.”

“Since it was a beautiful dream I had tonight. Let us begin with how it started fifty years ago. Let us begin with a dream.”

Chapter One

The Abomination and A Tainted Whisper

So sweet was the wet rain that flowed through the throat of life. It kissed the sky as a nimble tongue danced over a sharp tooth. This was the culmination.

The demon inside dripped with excitement. Wet senses, tense thoughts played in his mind. He leaned in, her neck was warm, tender, ready for penetration. This was his first in centuries.

His hand gripped her delicate shoulder. She sighed from the pressure. It was celestial. A brown cashmere sweater was all that kept the barrier between the touch. His skin was light, a contrast to her tanned olive tone. He stood slightly taller, nearly six feet to her thin five eight frame. Her face was oval, feminine. Her lips were glass. Her dark green eyes added detail to her perfect expression. He had induced a reaction within her. She was attracted to him. His sinewy build appealed to her. His hair was calm fire, down to his shoulders. The dark brown hues were the only remaining link to his humanity. A sudden breeze shed light to his black eyes, shielded in thorns. Her extended mortality had been his muse until that night. The clouds were about to tear open from above, the nightmare had almost come.

The field adjacent to them offered little cover to the anticipated events. The century oak was solitary in the night. The sun had abandoned them long before they had arrived. His breath on her neck was telling. It was going to happen. She knew that. She demanded it. He pressed as the hard bark pushed into her from behind. She drew him to her. The tree pitted her back with a unique sensation. There was ritual in this act, a feeling of events that had come together. This was her time to enjoy him. After many nights of catering to his whims, placating his desires. She was able to purely experience this act. This singular moment was hers.

Her long brown hair shifted as needles in the wind, exposing her supple veins, “this is what I want,” her voice almost silent, loud only to his ears. She panted, waited, wished for it. Her lips pale, flush with the idea of what was about to take place.

A streak of lightning set fire to the night, illuminating the privacy they had sought out so carefully. The shade of the oak held the last mystery as the sky gave away the secrets of nature around them. The area was euphoric, its flash of brilliant incandescence spread the dark dream even further into the night. Just as it came, it was seen and gone. It lingered in the eye for only a fleeting moment. Then everything went black in a hush that left a yearning.

Before he could answer, the demon within had spoken. His fingers were not his own as he stripped the fabric away. Her flesh was intoxicating. He grasped the back of her head with a pure intention. His hand cradled her slender exposed neck. The once gentle fingertips that were used to caress now drove into her, piercing the skin of this eerily beautiful girl. She tensed. She let the pain subside to her newfound pleasure. This was welcome to her. An essential feeling to obtaining what she wanted.

His face caressed hers in an embrace. A passionate deep kiss led to his tongue drawing a line away and down to her throat. His lips were speaking to her body. His fanged teeth wet and sharp. He entered her in one motion.

Her breath was quickened to the pace of her heart. Crimson flowed, soaking, flooding the once dry clothing that remained in the stormy night. Her bra the only intact article concealing her breasts from his piercing gaze. The warm red liquid cascaded down her chest. Her long black skirt absorbed the rest of the pain. Her inspiration was heavy, labored, she exhaled in ecstasy. Her arms wrapped his cold back. She loved this. With each mouthful, she softly sang the experience to the empty shadows.

The demon spoke without words. She heard his voice in her blood, “you are the sacrifice that will allow my rebirth. You are the gateway to my desires. Your blood is my road.” The phrase didn’t mean much to her completely focused and enthralled mind.

He smiled as he drank her life. She shifted her hips towards his attempting to connect them further. He pulled her leg up high and tight. Close to his side. Her quiet moans filled his keen ears with music. He pinned her to the tree with excessive force.

This was exactly what she had asked for. To be with someone that needed her as she was, as the inhuman monster she really was. This was ephemeral, but needed. She wanted something more than the normal vampire, a difference in power. To be influenced, to be controlled, a pressure that could be felt instead of told. She wanted a demon within the nightmare of her world.

He continued to devour her, to let the blood flow. She gasped, trying to ask him to stop. Her mouth dry, unable to speak. The words lost on her glazed mind. Her arms failed her. It terrified her, yet it was enticing. It felt eerily good. The intensity climbed and washed over her as he bore deeper. The sensation filled her being. She stared into his black eyes as she lost consciousness.