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The Tao of Vampires
In the Third Millenium
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The Tao of Vampires In the Third Millenium
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Red lights, gray morning You stumble out of a hole in the ground A vampire or a victim It depends on who’s around --U2
Prologue A
Night in the Life of a Predator Berkeley,
California 1987 Apollo Apollo sat on the street side dining room of the Berkeley Bistro, searching for his prey as he waited for his appetizer. It was a night in the life of a predator, but the irony of it all was the fact he was quarry. Apollo was absconding from a powerful slayer since the Black Death. He was immune from the bubonic plague, that ravaged mortals, but he was not immune from the skillful sword strokes of an Incrementum—the deadly offspring of vampires. Arvo, a relentless Incrementum, plagued vampires for over six hundred years. He butchered a substantial number of the Olympic Coven to find him. Apollo watched the cars circulate up and down the avenue as he talked on his cell phone to a coven member with a predilection to mock. “Don’t worry, homie, be happy,” Perseus said, with the sound of Jamaican dance hall music in the background. “Until you die.” Apollo’s left hand pressed the cell phone against his ear as the fingers on his right hand combed his dark red hair. “Is that all you have to say?” He scanned the bistro for his server. He looked throughout the pueblo interior decorated with cactus, pottery and sand paintings. “You flippant bastard.” “Flippant. Nice word. Real nice word.” Perseus chuckled. “You know what your problem is? You’re behind in the times, man. You need to catch up gee; you know, get groovy and far out. A vampire that lives in the past is a vampire that dies in the past. You’re going to die, that’s a guarantee, and so you might as well be hip about it.” “You sound ridiculous.” Apollo’s phone was leaving a light black outline against his pallid cheek, as his knees bumped against the bottom of the table, nearly tipping a burning candle. He stretched his long legs to avoid another collision. “And for three thousand and some odd years, I thought you were my friend.” “I am your friend, pimp daddy. That’s why I’m being honest with you.” Apollo slapped a fruit fly off his black breeches. “What makes you think my days are numbered? I’m well protected. I just visited Charun and there’s Paon in Utah, Aries in—“ “Nope. You’re gonna die.” Apollo was incensed by the certainty of his friend. “You’re an ass.” “C’mon, cuz. I’m just keeping it real for my vampire homie. Hold on. I need to take a hit from a hellacious bong.” He coughed and giggled a moment later. “That’s the ticket. Now what were we talking about?” “Me.” “Oh yeah, you. Well, you should really mellow out, you know, dig the scene with a gangster lean. Play that funky music white boy.” Perseus coughed. “I hear the Elysian Fields are beautiful this time of year.” “Not funny,” Apollo said. “Come on, bro, loosen up. Where is your sense of humor?” “I left it on a beach in Scotland.” Apollo started to fidget as he pondered the extent of his mortality. “Do you know how it feels to sit in a coffin and stare at the lid all-day?” “Yes, sure do, but then I made my peace. Now I go with the flow, having fun seeing the world, taking all kinds of mind altering--medications. And you know, if I get killed then I get killed, but at least I’ll have a smile on my face.” “Perhaps you’re right.” “I know I’m right, buddy. We’ve been gouging throats for millenniums.” A raucous group of drunken patrons interrupted the conversation. Apollo glanced their way and fixed his eyes upon an attractive Asian woman, giggling. Maybe I should have Chinese tonight, he thought. Or is she Thai? Would she be attracted to my androgynous appearance? He entertained the thought of seducing her to death, his lips moving up the base of her neck with the pace of a snail. His tongue would sense the sluggish pulse of her jugular as he scaled her throat in search of desirable points of entry. His fangs would penetrate her vein enough to create an easy flow. He would indulge in the sensation of the act as he drained her life away. “Hello?” Perseus quacked. “Earth to Apollo, Earth to Apollo. There’s life on this planet.” “My apologies. I was looking at the menu.” “Is he or she tasty?” “Very.” Apollo gazed at the woman until he realized he could not connect. The Ray-Bans were blocking his ability to seduce her with his brown eyes. “I must admit, she would make a scrumptious midnight snack.” “Scrumptious!” They laughed together until Perseus coughed. “On another subject,” Arvo said. “Charun told me that he hasn’t received any word from the covens on the east coast. It was rumored that Arvo and his band of slayers are in America. Is there truth in that matter?” “You bet he is! Arvo and those violently promiscuous furies have been on a killing spree since the Ides of March.” “And no one thought of telling me?” “I just did. Dionysus probably would have warned you too, but he and his decadent coven were wiped out like a bad surfer. We’re talking a very hostile takeover.” Apollo fiddled with his gold crucifix with his thumb and forefinger. “His whole coven?” “Yup. I’m happy to say they killed every single one of those perverted bastards.” “His whole coven. How is that possible?” “Attention to detail, baby, attention to detail. See, first Arvo retrieves quality intelligence from his covert operators. Then he arms his gangsters with state of the art firepower. They wait for just the right time, then BOOM! They bring the business. And, boy, do they bring the business!” Perseus sneezed. “It’s like that everywhere those slayers go. Once Arvo, the furies and their crew find a coven—it’s game over.” Apollo wiped the sweat off the phone and shifted it to his opposite ear. “You seem overjoyed considering you’re on his waiting list.” “Yeah, I am on his ‘to do’ list, but who cares.” “Aries cares.” Apollo said. “He’s been a warrior for thousands of years and a good friend to both of us. He’ll annihilate Arvo at the first opportunity.” “Bad news, homie, Aries fled to Argentina. He’s holed up in the Andes.” “Aries?” Apollo felt a chill then a burn when he realized the capability of his nemesis. “He’s the most able of all members of the Olympic Coven to destroy Arvo.” His pause gave way to the sound of plates and silverware. “He fled to Argentina?” “That’s right.” “His entire coven with him?” “What was left of them,” Perseus said. “Mighty Aries thought he could defeat them in Spain, so he orchestrated a full scale attack, but he lost over a thousand of his best troops in one day. He’s not mighty anymore.” Sweat trickled down his temples. “So he fled? Aries fled with his entire coven?” “Every single one. He left nothing to ego. I have no idea what he’s planning next, but it better be fucking brilliant.” “If I had known—“ Perseus said. “Don’t blame anyone else. You’re the idiot who raised your hand.” “But—“ “But YOU left everything to ego. YOU thought you’d regain the status of a deity if you volunteered for the quest. Now if I remember correctly…let’s see. What did you say? Some bullshit about ‘to embark upon acts heroic’.” Perseus hummed the anthem for the Olympic Coven. “Acts heroic, acts heroic blah, blah, blah. Now, hero, you’re history.” “Did I say you’re a flippant bastard?” Apollo pondered his present state as he cursed Perseus in Latin. “I was a vampire of godly proportions, admit that, admit that.” “That was back in the day but the game is over. No one praises us anymore and now you’re nothing but a courier of thoughts, a storage bin of memories.” Perseus was quiet for a moment. “All that greatness but now look at you--running and hiding from the deadliest avengers.” “And all you can do is mock and laugh. Is it because I eclipsed your labors?” “No, not because of that. It’s because I’m so high on coke and killer weed, that I don’t give a damn.” Perseus chortled. “Don’t be so sensitive. By the way, we’re not vampires anymore. We are, according to Arvo, VIRVs.” “What?” “VIRVs, we’re VIRVs.” “What does that mean?” “I don’t know, but it sounds cool anyway. I think it’s a virus, like HIV.” “Reduced to a virus.” Apollo recalled watching the beginning of the end from a ship harbored in Scotland for escape. He watched Arvo and his aggregate of mortals and vampires butcher his own coven that gave their lives to keep him alive, to protect the knowledge. Apollo fixed his eyes upon the victorious dark skinned slayer who stood on the shore, pointing his sword at him, a symbol that he would hunt him no matter where he fled. “Perseus, seriously now. Where were they last sighted?” Perseus snorted and gulped. “Hell if I know. I’ve been in Jamaica for the last three months. Cuz, you should come visit me, hang out. We can smoke killer weed, listen to reggae and dine on Jamaican beauties. I love dark meat.” “No thank you. Now who would know where they are?” “Maybe you should call your twin sister. Rumor has it that she was riding shotgun for the Dionysus kill.” “My own sister?” Apollo recalled Artemis’ last visit to his condominium. They argued. “My sister. That is not so good.” “Not good at all. I’ll let Hades know you’re coming.” Perseus said. “Hey, I have a joke: How many vampires does it take to screw in a light bulb?” “Perseus, as Shakespeare once said, ‘you are an ass’.” He closed the phone and perused the bistro wine list. as he braided his curly hair into a ponytail. The skinny server, with tattoos and bloodshot eyes, strode toward him. “Thank heavens. Finally. Excuse me, waiter, I would like to select a wine and would you please inquire about my steak as well.” “Hold on, dude.” The waiter kept walking with no change of pace. Apollo forked his Caesar salad as he watched the waiter flirt with the hostess near the entrance of the restaurant. That lazy bastard, he thought. The kitchen is the other direction. He retrieved his eye drops from his doublet and removed his Ray-Bans. Each eye received three drops to quench his brown-eyed contact lenses. It was over fifteen minutes since he ordered his steak, long enough for a seared and bloody pound of flesh. He couldn’t wait to suckle flesh and put his long canines to work, although the steak was merely an appetizer. His main dish would be large, raw and in some stage of terror. He checked his gold pocket watch. It was nine-fifty. He would track his main course around eleven. A Goth club, across the street, would be a perfect ground to hunt for his next meal. He would approach a man or woman, seduce them, take them for a ride to his penthouse, and then he would feed. He pulled off his Ray-Bans and cleaned the lenses with a napkin. He checked the time again. It was nine fifty-five. He retrieved his cell phone from his breast pocket, toggled down the selections and pressed speed dial. “This number has been disconnected--” that can’t be good, he thought. Not good at all. He looked at his hand and tried to keep it still, but it continued to tremor. He tried another phone number. “Welcome to Nymph Conservation Corporation--the foremost protectors of Earth’s natural resources. If you know your party’s’ extension, you may press it at any time, or you can make a selection from the following menu: For Dryads, press one; for Naiads, press two; for Oceanids, press three; for Oreads, press four; for Limniads, press five; for Limoniads, press six; and for Napaea, please press seven. If you didn’t hear your option, please press zero or stay on the line.” Apollo pressed one. “This is Demeter, can I help you?” “Demeter, it’s been some time. How are--” “Apollo, just cut the folly.” “Fine, I will cut the folly. Is Artemis there?” “I’ll transfer you now.” He looked around the dim lit restaurant but the waiter was not in sight. “Hello, this is Artemis—“ “Artemis, how are—“ “I am away from my desk right now, but just leave your name, number and a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as—“ Apollo closed the phone then opened it. He pressed the call button. “Welcome to Nymph Conservation Corporation--the foremost protectors of—“ he pressed zero. “This is Demeter. How can I help you?” “Demeter, don’t transfer me. Now where is my sister?” “If you received a message then she must be busy.” “Demeter,” you tree hugging bitch—he thought he would say, but he restrained himself--“please.” Demeter sighed. “Okay. I’ll get her on the line.” “Thank you.” He checked his watch again, inhaled deep and exhaled slow. The bistro smelled like a desert. Sage incense was a burning as tribal flute music, by Carlos Nakai, was piped through the sound system. He almost relaxed. “This is Artemis.” “Hello, Artie. How is the goddess of the wilderness doing?” “Fine. Why did you call me?” “Well…I just thought I’d see how you were doing. How is Ortygia this time of year?” “Ortygia is cold.” “How’s goes your business?” “Things could be better if your corporations would quit ripping holes in the ozone layer.” “How so?” “Pollo, I don’t have time for your circuitous bullshit.” “Fine. I’ll get right to it. Ugh, hold on, Artie. My waiter made his appearance.” The waiter wiped olive oil on his white apron then stared at Apollo. “Name is Jacob. What’s up?” “Jacob, I would like a bottle of your Ceretto Bricco and a decanter.” “Dude, that’s a two hundred dollar a bottle wine.” “What’s your point, Jacob?” Jacob shrugged. “Fine, brah. It’s your money. I’ll go get it from the cellar.” “You do that.” Apollo noticed his pallid wrists. “And check on my steak. I’m famished.” “Sure.” “I’m back. Artie, you there?” “Yes.” “My waiter is calling me ‘dude’ and ‘brah’. Can you believe that? And his stench. I bet he hasn’t bathed in weeks.” “Pollo, I’m hanging up.” “Okay, I’ll get to the point. I’m calling about the Arvo issue. Any new developments?” “No new developments. He’s still on his search and destroy mission. He’s searching for you and destroying every vampire in his path. And we’re not talking about a bit here and a bit there, we’re talking a serious number of hostile takeovers.” “Are those four furies still with him?” “The Weird Furies? Yes. Very much so and they live to kill. I’ve seen them in action, and like wow, they’re good.” “Hold on.” “Again?” “My flesh is here.” He sniffed the steak placed before him, but he couldn’t smell the blood. “Hold on, Jacob. Don’t go anywhere.” He sliced the steak in half and examined the split section. “Jacob, didn’t I say I wanted the steak seared and smothered in garlic?” “Yeah.” “Now does this steak look seared? Does it look smothered in garlic?” “Yeah.” “Look carefully, Jacob. You actually believe this is a pan seared steak?” “Yeah, man, I’m sure.” “I’m the customer and I disagree. Now take it back and give me what I requested.” “Fine, dude.” Jacob yanked the plate off the table. Several fingerling potatoes rolled off the plate and onto the white tablecloth. “And don’t forget my Ceretto!” “Yeah, yeah, whatever dude.” Apollo pounded the table with his fist and nearly spilled a candle. “Mark that! Can you believe such insolence?” “Pollo, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” “The nerve of these mortals. I remember a time when mortals like this would be kissing the ground before me.” “Apollo, that was a long time ago.” “Yes. Very long time, but I’ll get right to the point. A little bird told me that you assisted in the destruction of Dionysus and his coven. Is that true?” “The little bird was correct.” He was still for a moment. “Why?” “Why, what. Dionysus was a sick bastard living on borrowed time. He’s been slaving, raping the environment and tearing up societies for millenniums. When he started the child porn business, we knew he had to go. He didn’t deserve to breathe one more day. So Arvo and I made a business agreement. He would spare my coven if we would agree to a merger. So, we merged.” “But how could you work with my enem—“ “Pollo, you know what they say about birds of a feather.” “What type of feathers?” “The sort of feathers that are trying to conserve this planet, and we all know about the enemy of my enemy is my friend adage.” “Hold on. My wine is here.” “Here’s your Ceretto and your decanter.” Jacob said. “Excuse me, Jacob, but the decanter has water spots all over it. You wash this thoroughly?” “Dude, you are so getting on my nerves.” Jacob snatched the decanter and walked off. “Oh, how I am so at the end of my patience. Jacob, our discourse is over! I want to speak to whomever is in charge.” Jacob walked back to Apollo’s table. “But—“ “Don’t say one more thing.” Apollo gave Jacob an evil stare that was veiled behind the sunglasses. “Get your manager.” “Sorry, dude.” “It’s too late for sorry. Now go.” Apollo’s eyes were glowing red as he watched the waiter leave, but his Ray-Bans veiled the illumination. “The waiter’s gone, so gone.” His eyes ceased glowing. “Artie, how many covens, how much money, would it take to keep him away?” “I don’t think you understand, little brother. Arvo and the four daughters of Zeus, those four furies, are Letalis Incrementum, deadly offspring. They’ve already killed thousands to find you. What makes you think, all of a sudden, they will stop the hunt?” “So basically I’m doomed.” “Well, your future is not bright. Let me put it that way.” “Maybe I’ll return to Delos and see what happens.” “I know him. He’ll kill you. He’ll take what he wants from you and then he’ll put you in a box permanently. Besides, it may be the end of us all, if he takes the memories.” Apollo’s fingers were tapping the table. “Well, there it is.” Someone in the drunken bunch dropped a martini glass. They laughed. “Little brother, I know we are on opposite sides of everything, but I must admit you’re acts have been heroic even since the coming of Arvo. There are plenty of others of our kind who would have ended the pact and allowed Arvo to have what he wants. But you were the first to acknowledge the power of Arvo, so you run when you have to and hide when it’s prudent. Running and hiding may not seem heroic but, considering the alternatives, your present labors should emboss your legacy.” “Emboss. Right. I’m embossing. Wonderful.” “Apollo…well…maybe Cadmilus can help you. Worth a try.” “Cadmilus?” “Cadmilus is Hermes, messenger of the gods and god of fertility. Remember? He changed his name after the Great Plague of London. Perhaps he can reason with him, though I doubt it.” “You have his number.” “I do. I’ll put you on third party.” Apollo listened to the staccato ring tone until the connection was made. “This phone is currently out of service….” “Hold on,” Artemis said. “I’ll try his work phone.” The phone rang once. “You have reached Cadmilus Messenger Service. If you know your parties’ extension, press it now or wait for the following options. For service to Europe, press one; for service to North America, press two; for service to South America, press three—“ “Artemis, for gods’ sake, press zero!” “Fine.” “Hello.” “I would like to speak to Cadmilus, please.” “Who’s calling?” “Artemis.” “Hold on.” Easy rock was playing in the background. “Waiting time is less than one minute.” Apollo continued to wait. “Waiting time is less—“ “This is Cadmilus.” “Hermes, I mean Cadmilus, this is Apollo.” “The cursed one.” “Yes, the cursed one. How is Mount Cyllene this time of year?” “It’s cold and there’s something white called snow upon it. I thought you were dead.” “I am dead, just not dead-dead.” “Knock on wood. My son is in America.” “On that subject, I wanted to ask if there anything you could do--” “Nothing. Not one thing, so give in or keep hiding.” “Can’t you reason with him?” “There’s no reason to reason. Arvo’s my finest creation, a masterpiece of destruction. He is a plague custom made for our kind. He has toppled some of the most powerful covens and corporations on this planet. He wiped out Norse covens, Celtic covens and if God was in his path, he would hunt him down and kill him as well. Yet, you’re asking me to coordinate an agreement with him?” “Yes.” “Get your things in order, Apollo. Drink blood, have sex, and keep hiding.” Cadmilus hung up. “You heard it from the expert,” Artemis said. “How reassuring.” Apollo closed his phone and slipped it in his pocket. Rage and futility bent his mind on killing. He relished the thought of ripping Jacob apart as he waited for the manager. Jacob was a lean mortal, not much meat, not much blood but gulping him down was all he could envision. Bashing. There must be bashing. There must be the sound of breaking bones, Apollo thought. Then I’ll gulp him close to dry, leaving just enough to realize the horror of being eviscerated alive. Yes, I will gut him and litter the grounds with his liver, stomach, small intestine, large intestine—wait, wait, wait. A bit too much for tonight. Keep it simple. Bleed him clean then leave him. He pondered the logistics. Where? How? When? Should I follow him into the restroom? No. Too much traffic. I could follow him to a secluded spot, but I’m on unfamiliar ground. Wait now. Remember the rule of a predator. Let the kill come to you. The opportunity will present itself. A manager, with bright blue eyes, returned to his table with a decanter. Apollo examined the crystal. “Now this is better.” “Brand new. The owner sends his apologies.” She opened the Ceretto and poured half a bottle into the decanter. “Your steak, seared and smothered, is on the way. I told them extra garlic.” Apollo could have kissed her. “Now this is much better. Thank you. Now what’s your name?” “Melanie. I’m the assistant manager.” “Thank you so much, Melanie. Good service is hard to find these days.” “You’re welcome. Where are you from?” “All over.” “I like your accent.” “Why thank you.” “Well, thanks again. Ugh, can I ask you a question?” “Sure.” “Are you a thespian? Your clothes look seventeenth century. I used to study Shakespeare at the university.” “I’ve been known to perform here and there. What happened to the incorrigible servant I tolerated?” “He’s getting yelled at by his uncle.” She leaned over to whisper. “He’s just been terminated, but he doesn’t know it yet. The manager going to drop the bomb after he takes out the garbage. I’ll be right back with your steak.” “Nice and bloody. Right?” The assistant manager giggled. “Nice and bloody.” He smiled as he heard Jacob being chastised. Perfect, Apollo thought. The dumpster would be an ideal container for the corpse of Jacob. He would throw the waiter against the back wall of the bistro, instantly debilitating him. He would grip his jaw, yank his head upward and sink his fangs into his tattooed throat. He would siphon all but two pints of blood then toss the body in the dumpster. Then he would stroll across the street and finish his night of dining with lovely Goth. He poured wine into the crystal and swirled. He nosed the Cerreto, enjoyed the bouquet and reminisced about better days that were over six centuries in the past. He sipped and swished the wine in his mouth then swallowed. “Lovely.” He ate his garlic steak, cleaned his palate with water and enjoyed the remaining Ceretto. Jacob was holding a large garbage bag as he walked out the back door. Apollo pulled four hundred dollars from his wallet and placed it on the table. He licked a piece of lettuce off a fang and followed him to the dumpster. |
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