Chapter 15
Manhattan, Frankfort Street
Morbius sat on his brown leather chair patiently. He listened to each second the clock ticked away. The kid's eyes cracked open for a moment, and then closed again. The kid looked worn—he had been shot, twice, but still had a weathered look about him. He has been fighting vampires obviously, maybe for survival, maybe because he thinks he's Superman.
His eyes opened again.
"Hello, Rossi. Welcome to eternity," Morbius said as he helped him off of the couch.
He looked at the man speaking through squinted eyes. He was curious. "How'd you know my name?" asked a weary Rossi rubbing his eyes and temples.
"I pulled it from your mind before Dr. Schiller and I gave you the blood transfusion. I'm Michael Morbius, but you can call me Morbius."
"Well, you can call me Rossi." He then put his hands back to his face and head.
"Ok . . . Rossi it is then."
Rossi tried, but he couldn't stand. There was something in his equilibrium, something foreign. He fell back on the couch, and threw his head back on the cushion.
"It's ok, you're just getting used to the blood that's in your body: the vampiric blood. But it is not like the blood that flows through your hated enemies; it's different, made. The same blood which courses through my veins.
"You have certain, agilities, which normal vampires, most of them anyway, do not possess. Flight, being probably the most difficult you will have coming to terms with," Morbius continued.
"Flight? Ah, that's right, I remember a little now . . . but I'm a vampire . . ." Rossi said holding his head in his hand. Startled, he asked, "Did you hear that?"
"Hear what, Rossi?"
"That scream. And voices, they're muffled, but I hear friggin' voices!" Rossi said panicky.
Morbius smiled. "Yes, Rossi, I heard the scream, and the voices. Just apart of your new enhanced senses. Eventually they'll drown out, and you will be able to block them at will. It will take time."
"Feels like I just let out a huge ball of earwax," Rossi said plugging his ear with a finger.
"Interesting way of putting it," Morbius said with his eyebrows up high.
Rossi rubbed his right shoulder where he was shot. There was a fresh bandage atop it. The wound was no longer painful.
"I was shot, wasn't I? Rossi asked looking at the covered wound.
"You were, twice. By tomorrow, you won't need those bandages," Morbius said with enchantment.
"Try this: walk towards me," Morbius said while walking around the bar that separated the living room with the kitchen. "But don't open your eyes; just let your instincts guide you."
"What?"
"Trust me."
"'K . . ."
Rossi stood up and fell once more on the couch. He got up, and with the wave of his hands, managed to take a step. Then he got the hang of walking again, and headed for where Morbius was standing.
Morbius casually, and quietly, walked around to the other side of the living room dodging a couple of chairs, including his comfy leather recliner.
"Keep your eyes closed, Rossi, but walk to me over here now," Morbius said.
"Huh."
With his eyes closed, he turned in Morbius' direction, and began to walk to him. Without opening his eyes, Rossi inadvertently stepped between two chairs, a stool, some books lying on the floor and a computer desk and stopped a foot in front of Morbius.
"Ok, open your eyes."
"Right. And that was for..." Rossi asked.
"Look behind you."
Rossi turned around and looked at his surroundings. He turned back to Morbius loosing patients.
"What is your point, Morbius?"
"Rossi, your eyes were closed, yet you safely navigated your way through the living quarters. I wanted to bring to your attention the fact that you can do things, without opening your eyes. You have, thanks to your vampire bat blood, sonar of your own. It's a precognition of sorts," Morbius said. "Let me show you something else."
Rossi sluggishly followed Morbius to the terrace. Morbius breathed in the night air, and Rossi continued to feel dizzy and disoriented. So many new feelings . . . He could hear new noises: rats scurrying, birds—or were they bats?—flying, people making love, vampires feeding. He thought he would throw up, but resisted. He could smell the heat leaving the earth with the coming of the cool night air. The salt water, he could taste it on his tongue. He heard Morbius before he spoke aloud.
Morbius looked over to Rossi, "Jump."
Rossi gave him a look of self-disgust, "What?"
"Go ahead, jump. Use your mind to guide you."
"Right. Not right now, Morbius. Maybe later, huh?"
"What, are you scared?" Morbius asked mockingly.
Rossi gave him another incredulous look.
"You'll live." Morbius continued cynically.
"Wow. You're really into this whole teacher-student thing, huh?"
"You want to survive, do you not?"
Rossi did want to survive. He looked at Morbius and thought of his mom, who was slaughtered in front of him and his dad, raped of her blood after the rape of her being; he thought of his dad, and the moment he was slain more specifically. And he thought about his friend Sonic, and the great times and the bad times and . . . just the times . . . He thought of his friend and mentor, Blade, whom . . .
"You know Blade?" Morbius interjected upon his thoughts inconsiderately as he pulled the image of the legendary warrior from his mind. He continued, "I'm sorry to interrupt your train of thought, but you know the Daywalker?"
"Yeah, well, no. I know of him, I've seen him fight before," Rossi replied on the side of caution.
"Oh, I thought you said he was your mentor."
"No. Maybe only in spirit," Rossi said looking back over the balcony. He decided to try something. He jumped from the terrace in hopes of controlling his newly acquired immortal powers for the first time. He looked down as the ground pulled him down in its material grip. He heard Morbius speak to him, like a whisper, 'control it with your mind.'
Maybe not the first time.
He landed the wrong way on his right leg that twisted it under himself completely in a disgusting sound of shattering bones that cracked the quiet night air. His scream followed, as did Morbius' flying body to retrieve him. He was, again, picked up by the vampire, whom he now recognized as a friend for saving him a second time, as vagabond vampires slithered into the darkness of shadows.
"Oh my God that hurts!" Rossi yelled in a fit of anger, saliva flinging from his mouth.
"You need to feed," Morbius said as he landed on top of the balcony. He set the young and hurt vampire on the couch, and walked to a hidden compartment behind a picture . . .
"It's called the Triumph of Death, by..." Morbius said as to finish Rossi's thoughts pertaining the chaotic painting. He pulled on a lever, and typed a few keys into a keyboard, and another hatch opened and revealed white smoke with a large case. Morbius brought the case over to Rossi, and opened it up. Several containers filled with blood were placed on the table.
"It tastes much better warm, but for now, this will suffice. Here, drink," Morbius said handing Rossi a large vial of the crimson liquid sustenance. "Besides, keeping it warm will destroy the essence that keeps us alive, the plasma itself."
His hands were shaking from the pain as he clutched the vial. He greedily consumed the entire sixteen ounces of the vial, and looked at Morbius silently begging for more.
With a smile, "Of course you can have some more."
The pain slowly diminished. Incredible. The blood flowed through each and every vein in his body, and he could feel the electricity as it attached atoms to his body. He was engulfed by the euphoria as much as the pain. He gave way to seizure, however slight.
"The first time is always the best, though you'll probably never tire of it," Morbius said as he reached for another vial. "Don't worry, I have plenty . . . I reproduce it myself. Cloning: a miraculous thing."
After the seizure wore off, and he regained loss senses, or rather adapted to the new sensations, he grabbed the third vial. "You reproduce your own blood?" Rossi asked in shock.
"Not my own blood, but human blood. It took me around twenty years to figure it out, though I don't entirely deserve all the credit."
Rossi looked to his straightened and elevated leg, which fifteen minutes ago was broken in numerous places. It was still broke, but he could feel the blood within him reconstructing the damage, and the pain had fairly departed.
"It's fuckin' amazing, Morbius! If only all humans could do this . . ."
"Humans, Rossi, if only humans could do this," Morbius interrupted politely.
"What?"
"You were referring to the fact that humans can not regenerate as fast as we do. You are a vampire now, Rossi, and nothing can change that. You may keep your humanity-bred morals and ethics, as hard as you may try, but have no doubt that you are a creature of the night," Morbius said to Rossi's disappointing revelation.
"I know, Morbius, I know. I just think if humans could . . . never mind," Rossi finished sitting the vial on the table.
"They will never live in peace. That is only a dream; reality is much harsher than we ever imagined it would be."
*****
Prague
An icy finger rubbed the old parchment paper and turned it over. The text that lined each page, in blood, was of no text known to man. In the archaeological and anthropology world of days past, it would have netted immeasurable wealth. But no human would ever see this book, scribed in the Tongue of the Ancients, the vampire's language, eons ago.
"To enter another's body, the soul must be removed, completely, which upon can never be reinstated. Simple words cannot commit the act; rather one must travel the distance, but not physically," read the vampire overlord silently in English, barely audible over the flickering flames in the hearth.
He turned another sheet, after finishing the page, and then closed the book. He wanted to try his little 'ace up the sleeve' before it was forgotten in his vast and quite useless memory. He shut his eyes and leaned back on the cold of the stone throne, and with his mind, reached out to people he had never met before, at least in person. Instead, he called out to people whom knew the Daywalker, and initiated a new journey.
Gone were the sounds and smells of the headquarters and Prague. Gone was the feeling of being physically attached to the body. Gone were all physical restrictions . . .
He walked a path of blindness, but soon shapes and colors appeared, and disappeared just as fast. Sounds became perceptible here and there: voices, heart beats and waves crashing. Hundreds of voices and heart beats, but slowly they narrowed to a few. He could smell their ethereal scent over the cosmic distances.
He saw, through the eyes of another, a man with long dark hair. He heard words: humans, vampires, blah, blah, blah . . . Blade! And he nearly felt the warmth of the blood in a large vial in his hand.
***
Rossi grabbed his head in a cringe, and dropped the blood vial. Both hands were rubbed along his temples and forehead, then on to the base of his nose. He tried to stand, but the pain in his leg shot him back to the couch violently.
"Rossi! Are you ok? What's wrong?" Morbius asked in concern. He was shocked. He didn't know what was wrong with him, but knew it wasn't right. Rossi didn't respond, but for an instant cracked a smile, then seemed to lose consciousness for a moment.
***
The path of blindness again presented itself as Damaskinos pulled himself back to bodily reality. His smile was wide, the teeth glaring against the moonlight and fire. His intentions were not for nothing, and he found the right man for the job. And now he wanted to feed.
He ordered another servant to bring him a human telepathically, and in seconds was fulfilled. A young female was thrown to his robed feet, and he picked her up gently, and rubbed a finger down her lips before she could scream.
He turned her around and rubbed his pelvis on her hip. She closed her eyes in fear, and he closed his eyes in ecstasy. The power this granted him was endless, he thought silently. He sent her images of her playing with her parents in those days long past. He rubbed it in her face that his species now ruled the planet. He destroyed her mentally first, then utterly physically. He opened her jugular vein with a slash of his fingernail, and lapped up the blood that flowed from her fount.
He ripped her head off first, and tossed it into the burning fire. The rest of her body followed, flying haplessly through the air like a doll. Again he sat, and closed his eyes.
***
"Rossi. Rossi!" Morbius continued.
"What? What, Morbius?!" Rossi responded.
"What's wrong? You were gripping your head, obviously in pain."
"I don't know, I don't remember," Rossi said looking confused.
Morbius looked down at the broken vial and spilled blood. He picked up the pieces, and grabbed a cloth to pick up the cherry life.
"Did I drop that, Morbius?"
"You did, Rossi. It's ok, I've got more," Morbius said assuring the new vampire it was ok.
***
Damaskinos opened the book to another chapter. He wanted to learn more tricks; the tricks that would turn the tide of the war; the war that he and his House of Erebus were losing, thanks to his vampire enemies. The House of Ancients and House of Shadows were killing his vampires the world over, and in turn, doing Damaskinos the biggest favor they could have unwittingly done: initiated a war of the fittest. Only the strong would survive, and that's all the Elder could ask for of his great race.
The sun crested over the horizon in bright purple and blue. Damaskinos felt the warmth, and retired to the subterranean vault. Here, he could bathe in blood for all eternity, night or day. But instead, he wanted to rest and enter the metaphysical realm once more.