Excerpt from Mortal Death: Book I
Chapter One
“You can’t possibly be serious.”
“I am. As a heart attack. I’m telling you to stay home.”
“I can’t. Every employee has to be there. If you’re breathing,
you’d better drag your sorry ass outta bed, because it is an honor to meet one
so high up on the food chain, not to mention our boss and the owner of the
casino.”
“Bitch, I’m tellin’ you to stay the fuck home. There are other
jobs. You don’t have to kiss nasty vamp ass to get ahead, you know.”
“Goddamn it, Nico, not everyone can be as fortunate as you and
work for the Russians or the French. Hell, I’d settle for working for anyone human at this point, but I don’t have a
choice, and you damn well know it. So get the hell out of my way and let me go
to work.”
I eyed my brother angrily, knowing he was tempted to try his
warlock shit on me, but he finally relented and slumped down on the sofa in
defeat.
He was very good looking, even if he was angry.
Our world had changed, yet it had stayed the same. My favorite
French quote was now even more apt: Plus
ça change, plus ça la même chose. Or, if one is more partial to Italian, Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa proclaims in The Leopard: “If we want things to stay
as they are, everything must change.” Yes, that quote works too.
I guess life isn’t much different now than it was ten years ago,
back in 2010. The only difference is that just a select few knew about vampires
then, and vampires hadn’t yet received their rights.
They were crafty motherfuckers, you have to give them that much.
They launched their platform and tied it inextricably to homosexual rights. Can
you believe that shit? Yep, they equated themselves with gays and said their
civil rights were being “trampled upon”. Who had been eating whom all these
centuries? Last time I checked, vamps never gave a damn about humans except as
a food source. But, like most homosexuals, they were highly intelligent,
wealthy and a select minority. They thrived. They were able to grease the
wheels and buy politicians, and fifty years after the Civil Rights Act of 1964 was passed, the Civil Rights Act of 2014 was a shoe-in;
Congress passed the bill 401 to 99 and the Senate 98 to 2 (the two senators who
hadn’t agreed didn’t live to see the year 2015). The law extended full civil
rights, including marriage, to homosexuals and
to vampires. Now the gay rights, I can understand—they’re human. Vampires,
well, let’s just say something is definitely rotten in the state of Denmark. I
mean that in a Shakespearean way, not
in an “I have something against Danes” way.
No one could understand how they accomplished it, but they did.
There they were, the twenty dead motherfuckers who make up The International
Vampire Council, smiling with the President of the United States of America
(this was before we joined the Anglophone Union due to trade issues, a crippled
U.S. economy and immigration from “less desirable nations”) as he signed the
bill into law. They looked so odd, with their waxy skin and slightly elongated
canines. You could almost imagine their fangs unsheathed, almost see all of the
blood they must have shed over the centuries. Oh, it was disgusting, but like a
car crash, or an old episode of The
X-Factor, you were transfixed, or at least I was.
So, what is my beef with vamps, you ask?
They are sexy, aren’t they? We’ve seen the
movies and the television shows, we know what they are and all about their
plight. We understand their issues with us and we know their legends, and how
grotesquely old they can become. We know they aren’t all killers; that they can
decide to feed on us and allow us to live. We know all about their skills of
persuasion, how they can hypnotize us to make us do what they want, or make us
forget we have been bitten at all. We know vampire concubines take Vitamin B-12
and hope and pray their blood isn’t so sweet or alluring that a vamp
accidentally kills them one night in the middle of a sex act.
I admit it: I am a live-and-let-live type. I wouldn’t have shit
against the bloodsucking undead if they hadn’t killed my father and kidnapped
my mother. Yeah, she is now one of the undead, too. She was very valuable.
Besides being a witch, she knew a lot of shit about vampires. She was also a
cold-hearted bitch who was fucking a vampire on the side while still with our
father. We weren’t sure exactly what happened to our father. Her lover was sent
to ground for murdering a very “valuable” human and my mom was made into a
vampire for her troubles. Unfortunately, she couldn’t take us with her, so my
brother and I became orphans at the age of ten.
A nice set up, eh?
Nico and I kept in contact, despite what happened to us once we
were taken in by the system, also known as the Children’s Protection Agency. My
brother was good-looking, innocuous and charismatic—he was adopted immediately.
Me? I was mouthy with an attitude, plus I looked too “ethnic.” I stayed in the
system. Nicolas was a child prodigy with a photographic memory and an IQ of
nearly 200, and thus provided a very good education and graduated from Stanford
Business School. I wasn’t so lucky; for True
Blood fans, I’m the Jason Stackhouse to my brother’s Sookie.
Don’t get me wrong, I am considered good-looking, sexy, and get my
fair share of complimentary looks from both sides of the sexual aisle. I might
have looked too ethnic growing up, but as an adult it turns out I am pretty
desirable after all. I have skin the color of caramel, a perpetual tan that
never fades and only darkens if I am in the sun. My eyes are dark and my
sable-brown, cherry highlighted hair is curly—a flat iron is my best friend. It
is probably one of my most arresting traits; I like my hair because I can
change it to look like a white girl with a deep tan, or I can keep it curly and
instantly look like the mulatto I am. I inherited my father’s French nose and
fine bone structure, along with my mother’s blend of African, Native American
and Irish features, blessing me with high cheekbones and bee-stung lips.
My brother could be a dead ringer for a young Vin Diesel. He has a
full head of beautiful dark brown hair that he chooses to shave off. He looks
yummy as a baldy, but I would prefer him with hair. His eyes are his most
alluring trait—gray-green, they complement his masculine nose, etched facial
structure, and generous mouth. He is tall, almost 6’2, and slim yet athletic at
one hundred and eighty-five pounds.
I would like to think I have a lovely shape, too, but at 5’3 and
one hundred and thirty pounds, I have a little “junk in my trunk.” Hence why I
am a dealer at Transylvania Hotel, Casino & Spa instead of a cocktail
waitress. Transylvania, you get it? The vamps love irony, too bad they don’t
actually get it.
My specialty is poker, but I don’t like dealing in the high stakes
rooms (too many Asian vamps congregate there, and they are willing to pay for anything). I insulted a customer one
night and ended up at the Let It Ride table for my troubles. I get a steady
stream of customers, but my table closes early so I only work thirty hours per
week, technically part-time, and I don’t have to deal with vamps, thank God.
The Let It Ride table is a fun derivative of poker in which you
don’t actually play against other players but against the House itself.
Anything with two cards higher than 10’s in your three cards is a winner, and
you can win even more depending on what the House is holding. The odds are too
much in favor of the mark, as we call gamblers, and thus the reason the game
isn’t open more than six hours per day, five days per week. I work Tuesday
through Saturday, with Sundays and Mondays off. As I am the only Let It Ride dealer
at Transylvania, the table is closed otherwise.
Unfortunately, tonight, on what usually is my night off, I have to
go in. No choice, as the owner of Transylvania Casino, Mikkel Damgaard, is
gracing us with his presence. It couldn’t have been Saturday night, oh no—he
was too busy having his waxy white ass kissed at the ultra-posh, seven-star
Damgaard Hotel, Spa & Casino, which sits on the most lucrative real estate
on Las Vegas Boulevard, also known as The Strip. Transylvania is nothing, a
five-star, pseudo-palace of a hotel located in Summerlin, a very opulent and
beautiful suburb of Las Vegas, but a suburb all the same.
I should inform you now, that most of the gaming industry is
controlled by vamps, as is the pharmaceutical industry. They chased out the mob
and the corporations (fear of death will do that to us mere mortals) around the
same time they got their civil rights and proceeded to take over. Whatever hold
the Americans and Europeans had on the pharmaceutical industry was pretty much
wiped out during the stock crash of 2019, the year Vamp Pharmaceuticals came
out with cures for every kind of cancer and
HIV/AIDS. They were able to ruin Pfizer, Johnson & Johnson, Eli Lily,
GlaxoSmithKline, et al, because their cures were dirt cheap for developing
countries (they damn near gave ’em away in most of Africa, Asia, Central and
South America) while competitively priced in high-income countries. They
managed to sink most of the pharmacy giants even before their cures for the
common cold, erectile dysfunctions, and vaccinations for every known
communicable disease hit the market. It’s kind of hard to discriminate against
an entire race of creatures who were not only giving you drugs to help you
live, but drugs to get you high as well.
Once the Prohibition Repeal of 2018 was enacted, and the ATF
became the NATF—the Bureau of Narcotics, Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms—vamps
decided to make legal, synthetic forms of all street drugs. Nothing became as
popular as vampire blood or “VA neg,” as it’s called on the streets. Contrary
to what you may have heard, it’s not a psychedelic at all, but it is a
stimulant that not only gives you enormous amounts of energy and a sex drive
that is out of this world, but it also heightens your senses to a level you
wouldn’t believe. You can get a prescription, but the best stuff comes straight
from the source—a vampire lover, if you have one—or is found on the streets,
where it comes in powder form. It looks like red cocaine (due to being mixed
with aspirin) and you snort it.
Instead of dealing with “crack babies,” hospitals were faced with
VA-neg-addicted babies until Vamp Pharmaceutical came up with a nice little
cure-all for that too, with no side effects. They began and ended an epidemic
within the same year.
I know what you’re thinking: the bastards have taken over the
world, but they’re wealthy and part of mainstream society—how bad can they
truly be? They even came up with the nifty idea of blood banks, where humans
who can’t afford medical treatment can be cured for free in return for a few
pints of blood. Vamps have an endless supply of real human blood to feed on,
and they have saved humanity from the brink of destruction at the same time.
Believe me when I tell you they aren’t doing it to be altruistic.
They couldn’t give a damn about us; they have been complaining for years about
the quality of human blood and how far it has slipped down the food chain.
Their “magic” cures for humans were to help them, not us. They wanted better
tasting blood. Imagine being stuck in a world full of Budweiser when you
remember what Beck’s, Heineken and Carlsberg taste like. The unique flavors of
Belgian and German lagers, the subtle differences between Swedish and Danish,
or Mexican and Chilean beer. Well, that’s where vampires found themselves in
the early part of the twenty-first century. Human blood tasted like shit. We
were polluting our environment, low-income countries were experiencing
industrial revolutions, and everything had gone from sugar to shit. They had to
expose themselves to help us or face their own extinction.
Vampires were committing suicide en masse or going to ground. They
no longer wanted to live. They found themselves in the same existentialist
crisis humans had endured during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Blood
had no taste, and humans would soon be extinct at the rate they were destroying
their own environment. Mother Earth heaved from too many souls aboard and
shitty health to boot. What could the vamps possibly do?
Well, for one, the oldest twenty, who hadn’t gone to ground,
decided to stop the war with the humans and become part of society. They became
politicians, bureaucrats, and company owners, stockholders and taxpayers. The
International Vampire Council officially helped with the creation of the new G6
(or Global Six as it is known). Once the European and African Unions fell apart
in the second decade of the twenty-first century, the IVC personally aided the
formation of new inter-country and continental unions.
The Anglophone Union (AU) is part of the Global Six, and is still
ruled by the United States, albeit tentatively. Unfortunately, Americans aren’t
citizens of the U.S. anymore, but of the AU, which consists of the States, all
the former Providences of Canada (except Québec), New Zealand, Australia,
England, Wales, Scotland, Israel and a united Ireland. The other members of the
G6 include the Francophone Union (FU members include France and its former
colonies like St. Martin and Guadalupe, Québec, the French-speaking part of
Switzerland, formerly Belgian Wallonia and Monaco); the Great Nordic Regional
Union (GNRU members include the almighty Germany, Austria, all the rest of
Switzerland, the formerly Belgian Flanders, the Netherlands, Luxembourg,
Liechtenstein, and the entire Scandinavian region of Denmark, Sweden, Norway,
Finland and Iceland); Japan (mostly controlled by centuries-old Japanese
vampires, who were quietly converting as much of the population as possible to
prevent the dreaded race-mixing); China (the new “old powerhouse,” due to the manufacturing
of cheap but inferior goods) and India (technology kings supreme).
Despite the vampires’ sphere of
influence, the world is still a hot mess. It’s biblical how fucked up things
are, but life has never been smooth sailing—we live in the world of the
twenty-four hour news cycle, where television and computers are updated every
microsecond. That is a lot of news to ingest. People get their kicks from their
eReaders (“dead tree” books are so
2010), 300 terabyte computers and 80 terabyte iPods—yes, they’re still around,
just more compact than ever, as are cell phones and laptops. The pesky devices
can fit in your handbag, and with the push of a button they can become full
use, life-size devices. Advances in technology have included iPad and eReader devices
that use the same technology of the now defunct laptop, not like those old
monochrome Kindles we had when I was growing up. Those used to be the shit—I do
remember that much.
Okay, so now that you know more about
what the world is currently like, I can tell you what my brother and I were
fighting about. He doesn’t want me to go to work tonight because he has a “bad
feeling.” What the hell does that mean?
I have no idea, as he’s the warlock, not me. I didn’t get any special
abilities from either of our parents. I’m not a mathematical wizard like Dad
and I’m not a witch like Mom. Nope, all the good shit went to Nico—and all I’m
left with is well, the crappy throwaway genes. There is absolutely nothing special about me whatsoever.
I’m
smart but not super smart like my brother. I do have common sense, which isn’t
so common, as we all know. I should realize my brother would never warn me
about anything (let alone call me a bitch) unless it was serious and he truly
did fear for my life. Unfortunately, I am barely hanging on at the moment. I am
living with him and Drake (his boyfriend) because my ex and I broke up. I can’t
afford a place of my own so I have no choice. I am trying to save up but it’s
hard and life hasn’t exactly gotten easier.
Now
that all these stupid Unions were created in the world, it’s not just American
idiots competing for the same tired ass jobs. You have your fellow Canucks,
English, Welsh, Scots, Aussies, Kiwis, Irish and Israelis to worry about too.
Yes, we can travel to anywhere in the Union but let’s face it: most people
don’t have wanderlust. Though we are part of this grand Union, the vast
majority of us have stayed put in the countries we grew up in. The only thing I
have in common with a chick from Sydney or Manchester or Edmonton is we all
speak English, full stop. We can still even tell which part of the Union fellow
citizens come from because there has been no blending of peoples...most have
stayed right where their ancestors have lived for hundreds of years. To be
honest, the only people doing the moving are vampires and low income immigrants
who now have residency permits and can work anywhere in the Union. The dream
about “freedom of movement”, the same tired ass line used to justify the former
European Union and our current one, is a just that, a joke and a dream.
My
problems were my own and to put it succinctly, I couldn’t really blame anyone
but myself. How nice it would have been for me to lay my issues at the feet of
my mother, the jacked up system or even vampires, but at the end of the day, I
am an adult and have been for the past ten years, according to the state of
Nevada at least. If I still don’t have my feet firmly on the ground, no one is
at fault but me.
I
suppose my pragmatism is what stopped my brother from using his powers against
me. He knew that above all, I could take care of myself. I am a lot of things
but self-loathing and suicidal aren’t in the picture. If I knew of any real
danger to my person, I would have listened to his warnings but I know myself better
than him and in the end, he had to concede to this fact.
“Just
watch yourself tonight, okay? I would die if anything happened to you,” Nicolas
whispered.
“Will
do, little brother,” I responded
sarcastically.
“Who
you callin’ little? You’re only older
than me by forty minutes!”
“Yes
but that’s forty minutes I have been in this world longer than you. What did I tell you about
respectin’ your elders?”
“Whatever.
Just watch your ass, all right?”
“I
promise I will.”
Excerpt from Better off Immortal
1
January, 2021
Greetings friends, enemies, frenemies,
those who I have not yet met in life or death and everyone in between. This is
the second novel in The Vamp Saga
appropriately titled Better Off Dead.
Very hip if I don’t mind saying so myself seeing as I am the one who came up
with the moniker.
As you may or may not know, you can
read these novels as standalones or follow the series religiously. Would you
listen if I politely tell you to skip Mortal Death: Book I altogether as there
is a lot of whining, a gluttony of unnecessary melodrama and Manon acts like a
straight up Mary Sue? Seriously, how believable is it for some drop dead
gorgeous man with plenty of money to sweep down and rescue a mere Let It Ride
dealer? Close to as possible as me cutting off my own nut sack and making a
meal out of them.
Sorry I haven’t introduced myself, but
you will learn about me soon enough. All you need to know is that I was never
mentioned in the first book so that is a major sore point for me as well. I am
extremely important on this journey and I was completely ignored. Then again,
my father didn’t invite me to Las Vegas either so why would you know about me?
This letter is a simply an
introduction to let you know you are about to enter a world you could only
dream you’d been warned about in Death
Wish. I won’t continue for very much longer lest I bore you, as I have
required the unfortunate reputation of being “long winded”. Can you imagine?
The horror and for God’s sake, I am strictly a hetero man but I see nothing
wrong with indulging in the delicious acts of female lives.
One last bit of advice: throw away all
the “knowledge” you think you’ve learned about supernatural creatures. Nine
times of out ten, most of them are half-truths, myths or flat out lies. And
remember to let go of that mortal coil. Our world is much different from yours
and what would be considered an extreme act of depravity for a human to indulge
in merely is a vampire or Day Walker or Lycan’s way (a.k.a. werewolf) of
warming up.
Enjoy, don’t forget I warned you, and
although you are under no obligation to finish this book, I have a feeling you
will and you’ll enjoy every decadent second of it.
Emmerik
Damgaard
Part One
November, 2020
Zahara walked with the authority that her
Presidential position allotted her. She strolled past the two werewolf guards
and directly to the crypt. It was the latest in technology, made from
impenetrable metal and required an iris scan before the impossibly heavy doors
would allow entry. She stared into the iris-scan machine, which worked quietly
and efficiently. Moments later, she was inside the dark crypt which was only
lit by several well placed low-wattage bulbs meant to mimic the intimacy of
candles but without the fire hazard.
She was a beautiful woman, a
representation of youth forever with her dusky complexion, long, black hair
arranged in a tasteful chignon, yellow-brown eyes, Roman-shaped nose,
cheekbones most women would murder their newborn children to possess and a
full, kissable mouth.
Dressed to the nines as usual, she
wore a vintage, pale pink Chanel suit, matching Yves Saint Laurent Tribute
stiletto pumps which made her look every inch the regal and superior position
the International Vampire Council had allotted to her. It was currently her
title now but however much longer she would hold on to it would eventually fall
under The Council’s discretion.
If she had a beating heart, it would
have pounded itself right out of her chest. She was so close, yet so far away
from her maker. Her breath caught in her throat. Her body, however, continued
onward toward her journey to the coffin.
It was exquisite, made from Baccarat
crystal and gold. The casket itself weighed a ton but it had not been moved in
centuries; not since Her Highness had been transferred from Mikkel’s château
just inside the boundaries of Ile-de-France Geneva
She would be safe here, free from harm.
Regardless how much it cost the IVC to protect her and to lease this space, it
was worth it. The only priority was keeping Her Highness in one piece until the
day came when she could rise to power and claim that which belonged to her.
Zahara looked forlornly at the mummy
and felt herself grow angrier by the second. That bitch, Manon, and that Judas
of a traitor, Mikkel, ought to be dragged down here and made to bleed out over
Her Highnesses’ mouthpiece until they were drained of every last drop of their
blood. That should allow their royal Queen the ability to become a Day Walker and
when it was all said and done, she
deserved the ability and power to sit at the top of the food chain, whereas
those two murderous traitors did not.
Mikkel thought he was so intelligent
and crafty; between his duplicitous behavior and the way he acted like that
whore was the best thing since sliced bread. He should be thoroughly ashamed of
himself; he’d married a blood relative, after all.
So have you, a voice
inside her whispered but she bid it to be silent. It was true; as the maker and
wife of Kristoff Damgaard, he was a relative, albeit a distant one and they had
very little DNA in common.
Mikkel’s sin was that much greater
because Manon was closer linked to him than what was legally sanctioned for
Council members. If they only knew...but to tell would be the death of her and
after two thousand years, she still wasn’t ready to go. She’d never been to
ground because she feared death more than anything in the world. She needed to
live and to be alive, even if she was technically dead. She needed to see life
as it changed, shaped, morphed into something completely different from her
childhood, which seemed life-years away. What was she on about? Her childhood
was actually life years away and many, many lifetimes upon that.
Zahara knew part of her reasoning for
wanting them dead was simple jealousy. Mikkel was a fabulous lover; true, he
wasn’t Kristoff, but he was very good and quite skilled in the lovemaking
department. Now that he’d taken a wife, she could no longer sleep with him on
demand. She would first have to make sure it was copacetic with that cunt,
which didn’t sit well with her. Why should she have to ask anyone’s permission to do anything
at her age?
There was also the small technicality
that Mikkel was repulsed by her. He hated to touch her; to make love to her.
Something about her turned his very stomach. She could only deduce it was a sliver
of his humanity which still resented her for turning his brother, who in turn
made him. Had that not happened, he’d have been dead hundreds of years ago but
he would always curse her and blame her for his fate in life as a vampire.
Correction:
Day Walker.
He was no longer a mere vampire. He
was superior to her in every way, as was his bitch wife, unfortunately.
Although she hated to think about this harsh fact, it was true. She couldn’t
overpower them and to be honest, she wouldn’t ever attempt to. She had more
immediate worries to think about, like her impending suspension from the IVC,
along with Geoff, Filipp and Anastasiya. They had only been doing what was just
and correct, yet they were still punished by those Frog ass-kissers, Hervé and
Irene. Well, one technical Frog…the other was just a wannabe who had spent so
many years in France she might as well be French even if she wasn’t ethnically French.
“Madame President, your presence is
required,” a male voice announced reverentially.
Zahara turned to see one of the
werewolf guards—his name escaped her but his accent was Swiss German, so
perhaps it was Hans or Jürgen or one of those hard-to-pronounce Teutonic
names—and smiled condescendingly.
“One moment, please. Can you wait
outside? I would like to spend a few more moments with my Highness.”
The guard nodded affirmatively and
exited the room.
Good doggy, Zahara
thought coldly.
She placed her hands on the coffin and
although she had no wish to leave marks, she couldn’t help the feeling of
overwhelming desire which had swelled into the heart of her body.
“Just a little while longer, my Queen.
I will be back for you with their heads on a plate and soon, you will be able
to feel the gentle kiss of sunlight on your skin. It is only a matter of time.”
She kissed the coffin, gathered her
composure and walked out, followed by the werewolf guards as the double doors
closed behind her with a resounding thud.
* * *
Hervé and Irene sat next to one
another in a grand and opulent former palace in Geneva which had been
transformed into the Global Six government offices.
Although physical opposites—Hervé with
his light brown hair, alabaster skin, typical Northern French features and
steel blue eyes while Irene possessed classically Scandinavian features despite
her skin being the color of rich mocha and her eyes, a deep amber-brown—they
were more alike than different in terms of the philosophical and political
outlook on vampire life along with the powerful positions they held within the
IVC.
Though Zahara was President, most of
The Council looked toward Irene and Hervé for moral guidance. The President,
currently held under the leadership of the volatile old vampire might as well
have been a figurehead position as far as most of the twenty-member Council was
concerned.
The G-6 Conference had yet to start
but they had purposefully arrived early just to talk shop. Something needed to
be done about the rogues in their midst. The IVC was a legitimate and civilized
organization; since when did members decide to play vigilantes and try to
murder one another over silly blood feuds and supremacy? The behavior had to be
brought under control lest the whole organization be dragged down along with
it.
“Seriously, what can we do?” Irene asked.
“Zahara is President but her behavior...the attempted murder of Mikkel and
Manon. We cannot allow her to get away with such madness. Imagine the
implications if she goes unpunished.”
Hervé sipped from his Sang Pur.
“Believe me, I have thought about this and at the moment, I truly don’t know
what to do. She is so out of control. Perhaps we should give some thought to
resurrecting Kristoff. I am against it under normal circumstances of course,
but even though she is his maker he’s
the only one who could truly control
her.”
“I think that will lead to nothing but
trouble. Kristoff knows too much about Manon’s true heritage. He’s always been
a live wire. It is not our place to interfere with a matter that has nothing to
do with the IVC.”
“You don’t think Manon’s paternity has
anything to do with the IVC? My God...”
“It’s a bit too late to be asking for His help.” Irene stood and grabbed her
second Sang Pur. She was particularly thirsty today. “Right or wrong, that
truly is Mikkel and Manon’s issue to work out. He must have his reasons for not
telling her and who are we to second guess his motives? It’s obvious he loves
her very much and they are truly perfect for one another.”
“Good grief, Irene, they are
prototypes and we can never forget
that. Manon needs to be studied and that is going to be an outright mess.
Mengele will begin his testing and Mikkel will blow a gasket. He will hate for her to be in pain. These kinds
of emotions—we as vampires were never supposed to feel them. I don’t know which is worse...the fact that they are Day
Walkers or their emotions. They are much closer to human beings in an emotional
capacity than we are. Hasn’t that ever given you food for thought?”
“Of course it has, Hervé. Their range
of emotions is a bit frightening as we are supposed to be so cold and detached.
I sometimes miss that aspect of my humanity, but at the same time, it colors
the situation and takes away from the big picture. We will be asked to do
something very barbaric today and I don’t think either one of them truly has
the capacity to stand it. That is not only a problem but an issue. This isn’t
about how we feel about humanity...this is merely about shedding the herd and making
room for vampire growth...cementing our hold on the mortals and letting them
know who’s in charge of whom.”
“True. The big picture is all that
matters. Humans and slaughter have been synonymous for decades, centuries. We
cannot change this; we can only make it that much more humane. It isn’t like
we’re sending anyone to the gas chamber. Regardless, we will hear them out and
pretend to contemplate our answer. It is never a good idea to show our hand
right away. We can never allow letting our guard down around the humans.”
“Agreed,” Irene mused softly, “but in
the meantime, we will gauge their behavior. If Geoff, Anastasiya, Filipp and
Zahara can control themselves and show an air of leadership, we shan’t punish
them too harshly. After all, they were only doing what all of us were thinking
but were too chickenshit to act upon due to our own fears.”
“’Tis true but I would have never pulled a stunt like that. I have
known from the beginning they were both stronger than we could ever be. I
treasure my life as much as you treasure yours. I have no wish to meet my maker
at this point in my life.”
Irene turned toward Hervé and laughed
out loud. “Neither do I, my love. Neither do I.”
It was a sheer revelation to arrive in
the beautiful Swiss city of Geneva
I had never been out of the United
States before, let alone anywhere else in the AU, but I found myself in a whole
other world. Geneva Denmark France
It was so exciting to be in another
place, another city. The weather was of no surprise; by the morning we’d left
Vegas, the calm autumn-like temps had turned blistery cold. There was a high of
thirty-two degrees the afternoon we left Las
Vegas Geneva
The weather was perfect for fur coats
and leather boots, sweater tunics, velvet leggings and luxurious Hermès silk
scarves. I was in fashion heaven. High fashion was made for autumn-winter and
Mikkel had made it his life’s mission that I would be well-prepared for the
season.
The afternoon we arrived, there were
personal shoppers from some of the top fashion houses in Europe. They were
there to take my measurements before they opened up their catalogues to me.
Money wasn’t an issue. I dropped more money in one afternoon than I’d made in
my entire lifetime of working, and I’d had a steady job since the age of
sixteen.
How could I ever regret the decision
to become Mikkel’s bride when he treated me like a princess? I couldn’t have
asked for a better spouse. He was absolutely perfect; well, not quite, but as
close to perfection as a Day Walker could get.
Although he held my hand and truly
tried to be cheerful and make an effort to see my smile, the sadness and
despondency radiating from his body was palpable to me.
“My love, what is wrong?” I finally
inquired.
We sat in the back of a stretch
limousine in the sheer height of luxury but Mikkel didn’t seem to give it much
thought at all.
“I’m sorry. It’s me and this goddamn
G-6 conference. I know what it is about and although I should have been
completely honest with you, I truly don’t see how that will change anything.
The discussions you will hear today might color your whole feelings of what you
consider the best aspects of mortals. I just hate you have to approach such a
situation this way without the opportunity to know everything that’s going on.”
I looked at Mikkel longingly. “Why
don’t you enlighten me?”
“I could…but it’s best you hear it for
yourself. Can you promise me something? Regardless what happens, will you
please keep your temper in check? You might hear some very emotional issues
being discussed and now is the time to steel yourself.”
“What exactly are you trying to say?
Do you think I won’t be able to handle the G-6 Conference? I’m tougher than I
look, Mikk. I am not going to embarrass the IVC and I promise to keep my mouth
shut. There is no way I would risk The Council, regardless what I hear
discussed—do you understand me?”
He took my hand into his and kissed it
gently. “I’m sorry I doubted you. I have not been looking forward to this and
knowing what comes next afterwards, well...I just feel so useless at the
moment.”
“We can get through this like we have
overcome every other opposition in our lives: together, standing side-by-side.
Do you understand that? I will always be here for you and you will always be
here for me. There is nothing that is strong enough to break us. Stop it with
all the sentimental talk this instant. We’ll be fine, all right?”
“Yes, my love.”
I smiled before I kissed his warm soft
lips. I would need that just to keep myself steady during the long boring
conference, which, unfortunately, awaited us.
* * *
We sat next to Irene and Hervé, who
both looked like they each had swallowed a canary. The members of the IVC were
on one side of a long elaborate conference table while the leaders and
representatives of the G-6 sat opposite of us.
I could tell from their looks of
derision and apprehension most of them equated doing business with us on The
Council as the equivalent of making a deal with the devil. Unfortunately, mortals
had grown so drunk on their own omnipotence and power, they preferred not to do
the wet work anymore. If they could outsource it, they would and that is where
we, as members of the IVC, came into the picture. The humans had a growing
problem and they expected us to come up with a plan, impose the necessary
action and sweep it all under the rug. I was learning more quickly than I would
have imagined that human beings were all the same. They’d placed so much
emphasis on their physical and cultural differences, they couldn’t see how
pathetically alike they truly were and this was the biggest joke of all.
How could I become emotional at this
Conference? To even suggest such a thing was laughable at best and delusional
at worst. Mortals simply weren’t worth my pity.
The Chancellor of Germany, Wilhelm
Hüher-Schwartzekopf, was busy giving the latest crime statistics of his country
and the general picture of what living in modern GNRU was like. It didn’t sound
much different from the States or the AU to be honest. There were “no-go” areas
for the Fire Department and the Police; some areas were basically lawless zones
where crime had spiraled so completely out of control, no self-respecting
citizen would be caught dead there; crime was worse in the eastern part of the
country than the western part, and particularly bad in areas with
high-immigrant populations.
“What is it you expect us to do, Herr
Chancellor?” I inquired.
Several members of the
IVC—particularly Zahara, Geoff, Filipp and Anastasiya—gave me withering looks
of outrage.
“I’m sorry, Frau Damgaard, forgive me
for going into such detail.”
“You have no need to be sorry, mein Herr. The G-6 called this meeting
to order because you need our help. I don’t mean to diminish your issues when
they are in fact all our issues. The
vampire community is just as concerned about crime and lawlessness as the
mortal community. We realize the need for law and order.
“It’s been difficult for all of you,
particularly the European countries affected. You aren’t immigrant countries by
nature, not like my homeland of the United States New Zealand Canada Australia
The Chancellor’s eyes were watering
but his German resolve held and he smiled slightly. “No one wants this to go
where it must but...we can’t do what you can to our fellow human beings.”
“Of course you can,” Irene spoke up
authoritatively. “It’s been done before and has successfully been dealt with in
nations like Russia, Rwanda, the former Yugoslavia, your nation of Germany,
Poland, the Darfur region in Sudan...your pitiful human nature simply doesn’t
have the stomach for it now and we understand and do not judge you.”
The Prime Minister of England and the
President of the United
States
“This has to be done quietly. There
can be no way this must be traced back to the G-6,” Prime Minister Campbell
explained softly.
“The citizens would be outraged. There
are a lot of people out there who are itching for a race war and this is
exactly what we are trying to prevent,”
President Smith-Alrawi continued haltingly, then sipped from her glass of Evian.
“As are we,” Mikkel responded dryly.
“The issue we have spoken of will never leak outside these walls. Not only that,
but we will guarantee you whatever actions we take to...thin the herd, so to
speak, will appear random. Your God
kills indiscriminately, President, and so shall we.”
President Herveaux-Mugabe of France
looked ruffled and less than cool and collected in her designer wear. “What exactly do you have planned? If it is...an
outbreak, surely you have the supplies needed to cure the people in society who
count, non?”
“You need not worry about that,
President. We assure you whatever we as the IVC decide to do, it will be
controlled and only affect the poorest of citizens,” Zahara expressed with
thinly-disguised distaste.
“Very well then,” Hervé announced.
“This meeting is adjourned until this afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. The IVC
will discuss our options and let you know what shall be done. Thank you.”
All the head leaders of the free—and
not so free—parts of the world filed out and left us alone with our thoughts
and one another.
“It must be a pandemic of some kind,”
I spoke up. “Anything else will look highly suspicious. The mortal community
wouldn’t hesitate to throw us under the bus at any given opportunity. They would if they ever suspected us of any
wrongdoing.”
“How do we get around the role Vamp
Pharmaceuticals would partake in this endeavor? We have always been fair to the
Western world, as well as low-income nations. How could we claim rationing of
supplies and not having enough products to meet up with demand?” Klaus inquired
reluctantly.
“Let me think about that,” Chiyoko
said. “This is definitely something I am going to have to discuss with Dr.
Mengele. He is the disease expert.”
William sat up as he poured a Sang
Pur. “Something about this whole situation doesn’t sit right with me. I realize
mortals are our intellectual and physical inferiors, but to slaughter them like
dogs? I don’t like it.”
“I second that,” Dominique responded
with firm conviction in her voice. “I just think this is some sort of dirty
trick the humans are playing to have something against us. This could lead us
into a place we would rather not go.”
“Like what for instance?” Geoff asked.
“They’re paying us a shitload of money, and keeping Her Highness in the
lifestyle to which she has become accustomed isn’t exactly cheap. We need the
infusion of income.”
Irene finished her Sang Pur and opened
another. “Dominique has a point. How do we know this isn’t a trap? A decision
like this could lead to World War III.”
“Agreed,” Mikkel began. “We have to
believe that if there is a section of the vampire community which is preparing
for war—and believe me, there is—then there has to be a section of the human
community which is doing the same thing. All they need is something like this
to get out and it will be an all-out war against the ‘blood suckers’ as they
like to call us. They would slaughter us in numbers we haven’t seen since the
Holy Wars and the Spanish Inquisition. This whole unknown part about our
particular situation scares me beyond what I can express in words.”
“You’re a Day Walker, why should you
be scared?” Siobhán wondered. “What are the chances you can actually be
slaughtered?”
“That may be true, but I was a vampire
for almost thirteen hundred years while I have been a Day Walker for about a
month. You do the math and ask yourself what side do you think I am on?”
“That’s the equivalent of asking a new
vampire if they feel any semblance of a mortal coil. Of course they would but
the thirst wins out in the end,” Maartje explained rationally.
“Are you questioning our loyalty to
the cause?” I asked. “I was merely half-vampire my entire life and now I am a
Day Walker. They would slaughter us right along with vampires. Do you think we
would somehow go unscathed just because of our special status?”
“No, but there might be the chance you
aren’t so easy to kill so they would save you for last. You know that old
saying, ‘an hour of life is still life’?” Filipp murmured.
“Or in our case an hour of dead is still dead,” Colwyn commented in a
snarky tone. “We’re Day Walkers’ food source. If all the vampires died out,
they would starve to death. How does that help them?”
“Exactly,” Andrine said boldly.
“Whatever this...pandemic is, we will have to be willing to take some losses on
our side as well. It will only seem fair.”
“I’m not catching your drift,”
Anastasiya remarked. “What do you mean by our
side?”
“The supernatural community—not vampires per se.”
“There is a virus Dr. Mengele and I
have been working on for months. It coincides with a new pill we plan to
release to the vampire community,” Chiyoko responded, albeit in a reluctant
manner.
“What is it?” I asked.
“It is a plague to wipe out the Lycan
community. We have decided with the advent of Day Walkers, they have outlived
their usefulness. They are more trouble than they are worth. We might as well
rid the earth of their kind. The pill allows vampires the temporary ability to day walk. That means we have to order our
current vampire enforcers to guard us during the day with the help of this
‘temporary pill’. We can then rid ourselves of the Lycan, also known as the
werewolf community, and many stray humans—we kill two birds with one stone.”
“Absolutely brilliant,” Aidan
exclaimed. “I haven’t been this excited in a long time. Just think of a world
without those animals. It’s fantastic. Well done, Chiyoko.”
“How far have you gotten with this
research?” Mikkel asked her.
“As far as we can get without Day
Walker blood. You said you were willing to make the sacrifice and now is the
time to do your part. The Day Walker blood is the key not only to the werewolf
plague, but also the temporary Day Walker drug. It is essential you play your
role.”
I nodded my head. “I am willing to do
that, Chiyoko. The most important aspect of this plan is that it does not lead
back to us. This is tantamount; everything else can be argued away, don’t you
agree?”
Chiyoko smiled at me. “Absolutely.
Excerpt from Immortal Lair
Chapter
One
If
there was anything about Zahara which could be considered an asset, no one
could accuse her of not having a sense of humor.
Although
President of the IVC, she didn’t take her position too seriously and considered
it a bit silly to sweat about the little things in life.
A
beautiful woman who appeared to be no more than her early twenties though her
fashion sense and the way she carried herself belied her youthful
appearance—she possessed dusky skin, liquid brown eyes, perfect cheekbones, a feminine
Roman nose and slightly full lips. Her face was lightly made up and her petite,
slim body was clothed in a black Versace cocktail dress and matching Manolo
Blahnik stilettos.
She
was just several days away from a very important meeting in Las Vegas yet there
she was stuck in the city of London. It wasn’t all bad: she had an excellent
companion and one who was bound to keep her busy, at least for a few days.
Ludvig
Neville-Zhukov was quite the adversary indeed, especially when one considered
his more than adequate bedroom skills.
He
was good looking with his mother’s gorgeous French features yet milk-white
skin, pale blue eyes and dark brown hair which had been inherited from his
father.
As
a genetically modified vampire—GenMods for short—he was not raised with his
parents but rather in a lab where he was nothing but a freak who was
continuously studied, poked and prodded. They were an arch prototype and were
supposed to eventually lead the top of the vampire food chain but something had
gone wrong.
Zahara
was no scientist but a vampire that was damn near indestructible yet had no
self-control and a sociopath personality wouldn’t lead the vampire community
anywhere but into the ground.
The
creatures were given their freedom and the secret of the GenMods was buried in
vampire lore and turned into a good old fashioned urban legend to scare the
gullible mortals. As far as they were concerned, Ludvig and his kind didn’t
exist.
It
was easy for them to hide amongst vampires as they looked more or less like other
vamps with one small problem: regardless their ethnicity, they lost all pigment
in their skin to the point of becoming albinos and their eyes were in a
constant pale state regardless whether they were aroused or not.
The
situation could have been a nightmare but as GenMods weren’t exactly daytime
creatures, many of the tell-tale signs were overlooked by most except the
fellow vamps of their community.
GenMods
were ostracized, declared persons no regular vamp would fraternize with and
thus they self-segregated. Although they often resided in the same cities and
countries as other vamps, they had their own places to congregate and tended to
mix amongst themselves.
Zahara
was a live and let live type. One of the people she loved most in the world was
a woman and her husband’s sister, Andrine. Labels didn’t bother her—rather the
people who threw them around so foolishly did however.
She’d
met him at his favorite table at his favorite pub GenMod vamps erroneously
named Bloody Tuesday, as if that were the only day of the week
vamps—genetically modified or not—got their drink on.
He
drank a GenMod Bloody Mary which was a mixture of Sang Pur, Hpnotiq and Grey
Goose vodka.
She
ordered a plain old Sang Pur O Negative as like most run-of-the-mill vamps, she
could not tolerate alcohol without a certain designed vamp pill and besides,
Zahara had always gotten off on good old fashioned violence any day of the
week. It was definitely her drug of choice and one she enjoyed quite
thoroughly.
“Well,
hello, beautiful,” Ludvig greeted coolly. “What brings you to this shit hole, President?”
Zahara
laughed out loud before she sipped from the Sang Pur which had quickly been
delivered and set before her on the scarred wood table. “You, of course.”
A
dark eyebrow shot up curiously. “Why, may I ask? Don’t you have some sort of
shindig coming up in Vegas next week?”
“Actually,
I’m supposed to leave in a few days.” She brushed a lock of hair from her face.
“Do you know what is going on and why this is taking place at all? Mikkel has
finally found Manon and I think he wants to marry her.”
Ludvig
sniggered out loud, highly amused by the situation at hand. “What do you mean
he wants to marry her? He doesn’t know her and even knowing what we know about
her heritage, it might just be for nothing. There is absolutely nothing special
about half-breeds and I wish the Council would do something about them being
fawned over all the time.”
Zahara
swigged from her Sang Pur. “No, she’s different. I can feel it. She can change
everything and that is why I need your help.”
“My
help with what exactly?”
“How
much would it cost to have her assassinated?”
“Assassinated?”
She
slammed the bottle down on the table. “Will you stop repeating me like a
goddamn parrot? Yes, assassinated. You won’t be able to do it in Vegas as that
is too risky and I can’t have the Council seeing you and I together in any
shape or form. If they knew we were talking, I could lose my position. You
people are supposed to stay hidden and on the outskirts of our society. I can’t
be contradictory and be seen with you if there is an uneasy truce between the
vamps and the GenMods.”
Ludvig
glared at her with icy blue eyes though his fangs did not emerge from his
eye-teeth. “Listen, as much as I would like to help you, I’m not hurting for
money. Dominique and Filipp set me up with a nice little trust fund before they
realized I would never be the son they were promised by that freak, Mengele.
However, if I could barter for your services, perhaps we can work something
out...” he trailed off.
“What
is it exactly you want? I’m not a fucking mind reader—well, at least not with
GenMods.”
He
smiled slightly. “This skin disease we suffer from...it’s annoying and brings a
lot of attention to us. If there was some way to reverse it or perhaps just
give us some pigmentation, I have some very fierce warriors who would jump at
the chance of killing this Manon bitch. Of course it would have to be on
European territory. We can’t risk going to the Americas. I would think the
reason would be obvious.”
She
smiled back in return. “I’m not sure we should be discussing a situation like
that here out in the open. I realize this is a vamp establishment but there are
certain…things I need to tell you and I don’t want the whole world to know.”
Ludvig
nodded wordlessly. “It can wait. Right now, I need some female company and
you…what are you in the mood for?”
“It
makes no difference as they will serve as nothing but an evening snack. I have
my companion here in the City. I will call her as soon as we get back to your
place.”
His
eyes shined coldly. “Let me guess: Andrine? How do we know this won’t get back
to Mikkel? The last thing I need is for him to know about our plan—”
“Don’t
worry about that. She and Mikkel aren’t that close so she isn’t going to tell
him anything. She might be his sister but she shares no love loss for her
brother. The only person she really misses is Kristoff. I think we all do
except that son of a bitch.”
“Well,
it looks like there are no feelings of loyalty there even though he has been
here for you all this time…sexually, that is.”
“It
certainly wasn’t because he thought he was doing me any favors. He would rather
be with anyone other than me.”
“Okay,
enough with the pity party. I’m not good with people feeling sorry for
themselves and I abhor it even more when those types of feelings are shown in
front of me.”
Zahara
finished her Sang Pur and stood. “Let’s go then.”
“Fine,”
Ludvig responded before he finished his Bloody Mary and set the empty glass on
the scarred wood.
***
He could remember very little about his
childhood but he clearly remembered it being in a place where a laboratory was
nearby. It seemed like a normal child’s room, albeit, one he shared with Evald,
the genetic offspring of Andrine Damgaard and Klaus Engel.
They were both GenMods and once the hated
Mengele discovered there were “issues” with the prototype, they were locked
away without any contact with their parents.
He and Evald had been best friends for as
long as they could remember. Where as Ludvig possessed a brutal handsomeness,
even as a child and it was obvious his looks would follow him into adulthood,
Evald was beautiful in an almost ethereal and girlish way.
He possessed soft flaxen blond hair and the
most gorgeous blue-gray eyes, gorgeous features and pale, milky-white skin.
Where as Ludvig looked sickly with such pale
skin Evald’s seemed to suit him and the fine blue veins which could be seen
underneath the delicate flesh.
This was a bad evening—they both knew that.
It was testing day, experimentation day. They would be cut up and bloodied
before the end of the night; a few Rhesus monkeys would be provided to them to
feed off before they would both be locked back into their prison.
“We can try to escape,” Ludvig finally said
in a voice which filled the silence albeit reluctantly.
Evald looked up at him. They were both
thirteen years of age in vampire years but they looked like grown men. Vampire
children grew much faster than human children. Why they needed to wait until
they were eighteen to be able to hunt on their own made no sense. They could
both defend themselves and besides, they were a new prototype. If anyone could
survive the wilderness, it would be them.
Ludvig sat next to Evald and slipped an arm
around his neck. “I know you are afraid of Mengele but he won’t do anything to
you. I promise.”
“I know but I am actually worried more about
you than I am worried about myself.”
“And why is that? If anyone can take the
hard knocks, you know it is I. Evald, Mengele holds a very special…kinship with
you. You’re one of his favorites. If anything goes wrong, promise me you’ll
make sure I am the one at fault. I tricked you and you had no idea. This way,
you won’t face Mengele’s wrath.”
Evald glanced at his best friend with
frightened blue eyes before he nodded his head.
“I love you so much…you will never know how
much I adore you. Promise me once we get out of here we will never be apart,”
Evald admonished softly.
Ludvig kissed his lips quickly and pressed
their foreheads against one another. “We won’t. I promise.”
***
“Taking
a trip down memory lane?” Andrine wondered out loud though she failed to greet
Ludvig with anything other than a cursory nod.
Ludvig
sat on the sofa and snaked a hand around his mortal companion, a vapid-looking
blonde with an awful Cockney accent and although she swore she was of age, she
was tall with the body of a pubescent boy.
“Not
particularly. I was just thinking about Evald, that’s all.”
Andrine
sat across from him and slipped an arm around Zahara’s waist. She was a
gorgeous woman with perfect features, platinum blonde hair, and intoxicating
blue eyes. She looked like she was in her mid-twenties though she was well over
one thousand years old.
“Tell
me, how is he? I haven’t heard from him in ages.”
“Well,
he’s still inseparable with Zed, unfortunately.”
“Now
there is a name I haven’t heard in awhile,” Zahara mused coldly. “How is my
son? Is he still wreaking havoc in Bruges?”
Ludvig
poured himself a shot of Grey Goose and downed it quickly. “Don’t you or Mikkel
call him at all?”
“Zed
is an accident both Zahara and Mikkel would like to forget exists. Remember,
all of you lot were designed in test tubes. Chiyoko thought it would be a laugh
to combine Zahara’s egg with Mikkel’s sperm, the same way she paired one of my
eggs with Klaus’ sperm. Very few of you GenMods were actually wanted by your
genetic parents. Consider yourself lucky you came from a union that was true
and binding and lasting. Dominique and Filipp were devastated when they found
out they couldn’t keep you,” Andrine explained calmly.
“Point
taken. The fact is Zed and Evald have left Bruges and are now in Amsterdam. He
wants us to live a life of sheer debauchery and on top of that, he desires a
polyamorous relationship. Call me old fashioned but I don’t want to fuck Zed
and I don’t want to be in a relationship with him. I’ve always adored Evald but
if he has taken Zed as a life mate then there is nothing left between us and
our relationship is as dead as we are.”
Zahara
stood and grabbed another Sang Pur before she flopped back onto the sofa.
“Where are all your high-brow morals getting you? You’re here in London,
absolutely miserable; meanwhile, he’s gone any way and won’t be coming back.
Wouldn’t it just be easier to accept the polyamorous relationship and take it
for what it is worth? It won’t be forever. Soon, Evald will be tired of it and
he will have to choose. You’re making this into a much bigger deal than it has
to be.”
“Perhaps
but then again you wanted a favor from me and I am underneath no obligation to
fulfill it if the only thing you’re going to do is bring me grief. You might
want to think before you speak.”
“And
please don’t allow yourself to forget you are in the presence of greatness,”
Andrine purred, emphasizing a Danish accent she’d never bothered to lose. “We
were around killing and fucking before you were even thought about being made
in that Petri dish by Mengele. I thought you said there would be some
entertainment—I’m starving and what I want isn’t in a bottle of Sang Pur.”
Ludvig
followed their stares to his female companion for the night. “Don’t worry, I
keep my promises. I’ll have my friend there call up a few mortal acquaintances
and your appetite will be sated.”
“Too
late,” Zahara murmured before she stood and walked over to the skinny bleached
blonde.
Her
movements were subtle yet predatory at the same time. The human morsel never
knew what hit her as Zahara crouched in for the kill. Her eyes paled and her
fangs unsheathed; the blonde tried to get away but she was too slow.
“Ludvig,
babe—”
“He
can’t save you.” She grabbed the blonde’s wrists and sank her fangs into her
jugular without pretense or hesitation.
The
blood rushed into her mouth and Zahara kept her lips pressed down, slowly
feeling life as it drained from her body. Once she had her fill, she threw the
blonde to the ground and walked over to Andrine. They kissed each other
passionately as Ludvig ran over to the blonde.
“She
isn’t dead! She can still be saved!”
Andrine
broke the kiss with Zahara and looked at the young man with dead blue eyes.
“Well, then save her.”
“If
I save her then she’ll turn into a GenMod—surely you know that!”
“We
know everything there is to know about you, Ludvig,” Zahara murmured as she
tore open Andrine’s expensive blouse and began to devour her breasts.
He
was at a loss. Should he watch the show? It was a great show after all with
these two beautiful women locked together in a bewitching embrace, all long
limbs and soft female parts—or should he save Xanadu? He couldn’t believe that
was her name for surely English people wouldn’t use such wacky names to
christen their offspring.
Ludvig
did what he knew he must and only prayed he was making the right decision as he
bit down into his wrist and allowed the warm blood to flood his dying
companion’s mouth.
He
hadn’t made a GenMod ever and surely this was the right time after all, he
needed a companion too and since Evald had made himself unavailable, this one
would have to do.
