Akeldama

Conner watched from the small rectangular window as the van pulled out, heading towards its destination. Conner stood in front of the box labeled C-4. Once again, Conner relied upon the memories of his two victims. Pulling out a remote detonator stuffing it into his coat pocket. Pressing the corresponding receiver into the playdough-like substance. Making his way out, a flash of metal caught his eye. The sword slid effortlessly out of its sheath; the newly adorned leather hilt smelled of oil and resin. Conner smiled to himself; sometimes, the old ways were the best. Slipping silently out of the armory, the darkness of the hallway seemed so inviting.

Moving over his skin like water did over the polished rocks of a stream, feeding life into his body, as did the blood of his two victims. Bending its will to him as it encased Conner in its loving embrace. Allowing none to peer at its lover while he was in its arms. The next thing he knew, Conner was standing outside, just within the tree line. The feel of the dew as it plucked at his exposed skin, the sound of the leaves rustling in the breeze. The call of the nocturnal animals high above in the trees. The cries of those less fortunate to see another day. Fog rolled along the underbrush in its war to obscure those within the low clouds. Slipping his hand into his pocket, his thumb poised over the switch. Conner smiled evilly as he watched the giant fireball roar to the heavens.

******

Helen stood beside her car, waiting for the plane to taxi into their private hangar. Her sapphire blue dress whipped violently as the plane's exhaust washed over them. Scowling at the scent of the jet fumes, her raven hair held in place by the two-century-old net of pearls. Her two body guards behind her stood motionless as the engines slowly powered down.

Helen could see Lynn's impatience as she waited for the mortals to get everything in place. Helen studied Lynn as she descended the stairs. Her light auburn hair bounced along her shoulders; her icy blue eyes held emotions that her ageless face failed to show. Her cream-tone dress clung tightly to her lithe body; some would debate it was only millimeters thick.

"Well met, Lynn," Helen said, smiling at the woman. "I trust your flight was pleasant.

"Yes, my Queen," Lynn said, bowing to Helen. "I've brought what you have asked for," she stated as the cargo doors began to open. Helen barked out an order to the two behind her, watching as they scrambled to retrieve the coffin.

"Where's the human you brought along with you?" Helen asked, yet given the flush color of Lynn's cheeks, she could take a guess.

"Where all food winds up one way or another," Lynn said, with half a smile.

"Indeed," Helen said, returning her own devilish smile. Their conversation came to a cease as they laid Conner's coffin at her feet. Nodding to her guards to release the lock that held the chains taut, her heart raced as they tossed the chains aside. Waving them away, she wanted to be the first one to look upon her wayward son. Something was wrong when she smelled the stale hints of blood. Helen stared dumbfounded at the body of a man she knew not. "What's the meaning of this, Lynn!" Helen growled, stepping aside to allow her to view the body. Helen noted the surprise and startled look that could only be genuine.

"That's... Paul," Lynn said, trying to wrap her mind around what she was seeing. "How can this be," she said, looking to Helen for answers.

"It means my son is free, and who knows where he is now," Helen said, slamming the coffin lid closed. "Call your House, Lynn; hopefully, he doesn't have enough strength to be a problem," she said, watching as the woman fumbled with her phone. "You two, see that this trash is disposed of," Helen commanded before grabbing Lynn by the arm, stalking back to her car. "Well?" she asked as she watched the guards stuff the two bodies into the incinerator.

"I don't understand; no one is answering, not even Alex. He was all but willing to carry me and Conner's coffin to the airport. He knew I would be calling once I landed, so why isn't he answering?" Lynn said, looking at her phone with unease.

"That's easy daughter, they're no longer there," Helen said, sadness welled in her heart. Tapping her driver on the shoulder, telling him they were no longer needed there.

******

London. The last time he was there was when Big Ben was just finished being built-in 1859. Conner could smell them as he stood on the rooftop of the nearby building that sat along the street once called Phoenix Place. Conner was very fond of the old name; he couldn't fathom why mortals needed to rename everything. Shaking his head at the distracting thought, his eyes peered into the home of his hated foe. Conner had no concern for those that dwelled in his House. His only target was the one that took the light from his dark, weary soul. For days he had hunted the streets of London following their human minions. Taking out a few of his warriors without raising too much suspicion.

Conner was unnerved by this new ability he seemed to have gained during his imprisonment. Days after, he had rendered his former home to ash. The shadows seemed alive, calling out to him, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, taunting him to return to its embrace. Was this because he had spent so much time in total darkness that he could distinguish its subtle shades? Was it because he had spent years staring at death's door?

Becoming so intimate with it, he could describe every scratch, every dent, every aspect of that golden door. Conner was willing to bet it was the latter. Smiling into the night as he watched his prey pulling out from the underground garage heading to the city for his nightly fix.

******

John leaned against the wall of the elevator with smug satisfaction. His crisp gray suit sat snug around his shoulders. John could never understand humans' need to wear such tight garments. Yet if he wished to partake in his favorite victims, he needed to stay with the times. The rich and lonely kind, where their husbands cared little about them. Humming a tune as he stepped into his suite, unaware of the unwanted visitor lurking within the shadows.

Pain, unbearable pain radiated up his left leg. Peering down at the crimson blotch as it spread around the protruding bolt. Taken aback by the shock and surprise that anyone could have broken into his private chambers, much less had gotten the drop on him. Sinking to his knees as another bolt tore through the flesh and bone of his right leg. Blood sweat beaded along his brow, forcing him to face his attacker. Blood drained from his face as he looked upon the man he had betrayed.

"Lovely is it not," Conner said, fingering the tiny crossbow. "Not powerful enough to take down a man, but enough to render him helpless." John swallowed down his pain to call out for help. "No, you don't," Conner said, firing another bolt into John's left hand nailing him to the floor. Stifling down his pain, all John wanted to do was submit to it; if he did, John knew his life was over. If only he could remain coherent enough, just maybe he could talk his way out of this.

"What do you want?" John asked, keeping his pain from his voice.

"First, you're going to call your pilot and have him ready your plane for takeoff in three hours. Tell him to keep it off the books, tell him his Queen wouldn't want anyone snooping," Conner said, bringing his face inches from John's. "If you speak a word of which I have not spoken, then I shall take your most precious item." John had no doubt that Conner wouldn't hesitate.

"There, anything else," John said, sliding the phone over to Conner.

"Oh yes." John saw the sadistic light within those pale blue eyes. "You took something from me that can never be replaced. Tossed me into darkness that I had hoped to escape, caused us pain beyond belief. You should have never crossed me." John's gaze caught the glint of metal within Conner's coat.

"Please, Conner, think about this; if you do this, you place every House against you. If you kill me, your mother will send out Hunters to track you down." John was startled by the insane laughter that bubbled forth from Conner's throat.

"Do you think I care if they stand with me or against me? I have already taken care of my former home, and you certainly put too much faith in my mother. She couldn't care less if you live or die. Did Margaret beg for mercy as you raped and drained her dry?' Conner asked, his hand clenching tightly around the hilt of his sword.

"Wait. I can help you," John pleaded as Conner stalked towards him.

"As you helped me before?" Conner's voice was cold and alien. "As you helped yourself to my wife!" John pulled frantically at the bolt that pinned him to the floor. "Don't bother John; no one is going to miss you. Not even your underlings care enough about you to report your death until whoever is secured in their new position. Only then will they let the world know of your death." John released a blinding howl as Conner relieved him of his most precious jewels.

******

"This is a mess," said the chairman of the Netherland house. "First, one of our most ancient Houses goes up in flames with no survivors. Now John from the London House was found cut to pieces. No one can tell me how his attacker breached his defenses, nor can they tell me how he escaped." Helen watched as the other chairmen whispered amongst themselves.

They had called this meeting to discuss this new attack on one of their own. Helen had her suspicions on who it was but dared not speak his name. Looking over at Lynn, wondering if he would come for her. Knowing she was one of the reasons why he was put in that box. Shaking her head. John had made enemies mortal and immortal alike. A few were among his own House, yet Helen could not ignore the skill his attacker had used.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," Helen said, her voice carrying power within the circular chamber. "As for our lost House, I grieve for those who lost their lives. Yet, we all know that House was in decline before Lynn took over as its mistress. As for John, he made his bed when he refused to heed our words." Again, their gathered voices began to grate on her nerves. "Enough! Are we not immortals, are we not the hunters of the night? Have we sunk so low that we cower from an unknown villain?" Helen shouted, rising from her throne.

"No, we are vampires, masters of all that walk this earth. Not in five hundred years has anyone dared rise up against us. I will not have my empire brought to a knee because of one man!" Helen said, staring down those in their polished thrones. Taking Lynn by the arm dragging the woman behind her to her chambers.

Soft red velvet curtains lined the dark walnut-stained wooden panels. Thick plush carpet dampened Helen's pacing footsteps. The rich brown leather sofa squeaked as Lynn lowered herself onto its overstuffed cushions. Sinking into the wingback chair that was placed in the center of the room. Helen loved how it made anyone that entered look right at her and be cowed by the experience. Thoughts raced through her mind on what to do about her son. What frightened her was the fact that Conner had taken John's life without alerting the others. Helen couldn't figure out how he pulled off such a feat.

What was most disturbing was the fact that the London House's private plane was missing. No one knew where it was headed, only that it had taken off an hour before dawn. If she had to guess, Conner was on his way to New York. She had placed Dustin in charge of running the finances of the Houses. However, if she knew her son, she debated if anything of her son remained. Her cold blue eyes flickered over to Lynn as she sat patiently on the couch.

"What do you think his next move will be?" Helen asked, wondering if she too came to the same conclusion.

"If I was him and going after those that turned on him," Lynn said, pinching her lips. "First, I would remove those who stood in my way, hence the destruction of the Paris House," shuddering at the fate she avoided, "find some way to track down my enemies once I was strong enough. How he got to John is beyond me, the sheer fact that none felt his presence frightens me."

"Yes, I, too, am concerned about that," Helen said, biting her nails. "Conner is old enough to hide his essence from many of the younger ones. Yet, there are enough elders within London to know when another enters their domain. So, we can assume Conner is on his way here, and we may not know it until it's too late," Helen said, her brow wrinkled as she pondered the problem. How could she use this to her advantage and curb her son's wrath at the same time?

"If I may speak freely, my Queen?" With a wave of her hand telling Lynn to continue. "Why not use Dustin to lure your son to the heart of the country. We all know how those low-born thugs have been trying to infiltrate your empire. Why not send Dustin there under the guise of a traitor. In no time, those things would jump at the chance to bring him into their fold. We plant a trail for Conner to follow, plant explosives in Dustin's office, where he is sure to go. Conner will think it was meant for anyone that went to investigate Dustin's treachery," Lynn said, leaning forward as the rest of her plan began to form. "If Conner dies, then so be it, and we gain a valuable spy. With the intel Dustin will supply to us, we can finally wipe them out. However, if Conner does survive, we can have our people on the police force be the ones who find him. Ensuring that he comes to no harm, you, my Queen, will post his bail if the events play out. Where you shall offer him an uneasy truce telling him, you share a common enemy.

Then we will pick a small group of hunters only loyal to you. Reporting back to you about everything they can learn about him. Under no circumstances is Conner to be left alone for any amount of time." Helen was quite pleased with her plan. Although there were parts she would change to suit her own plans to cow her son. Yet as Helen contemplated on the man that had awoken in her son's body. Once, she knew how far she could have pushed her son; now, however, this man that wore Conner's face was an enigma to her.

Chapter Two

Rats scurried within the shadows of the alleyway. Fear led their flight to escape the thing that lurked within the shadows. Foul air hung low surrounding the buildings in its sickly yellow-green cloud. Obscuring the night sky even from his unnatural sight. The homeless stirred within the trash they called home. Ignoring him as he did the same all the while their blood pounded in his ears.

Its hypnotic rhythm lulling him into a trance as his body swayed to the beat. Car horns blared, bringing him out of his blissful trance, wincing at the ungodly noise as it pierced his ear drums. After his arrival, Conner had walked the streets trying to ascertain Dustin's whereabouts. Even with the foul air masking the scents of those like him. Conner waited and watched, unsure what his senses were telling him. Unsure they could be relied upon within this strange city.

As Conner crept down the dark alley, steam billowed out of the sewer grates. Yellow-aged newspapers tumbled along the asphalt pathway driven by the faint breeze that was funneled down the alleyway. Shadows darted to and fro around him, yet he paid no heed. Conner was too caught up in his own mind to notice the mortals. For they mattered little to him, he thought it best to focus on more pressing matters.

"Hold it right there, pal. This is 13^th street territory. There's a tax for nonmembers for the use of our streets and our protection." The flash of the nickel-plated 9mm handgun caught his attention.

"Is that so," Conner said, taking stock of the man standing before him. Standing a little over five feet, his mixed Latino heritage was evident in the weak light that managed to seep into the alleyway. "Does it appear that I need any form of protection from grunts like you?" His pale blue eyes flashed dangerously.

"Get a load of this fool Tommy, it sounds like he's on something," said the man standing behind Tommy's left shoulder.

"What you think he's on coke, crank, PCP, heroin, well whatever it is, it'll be ours before the night's over," Tommy said, smiling sadistically.

"I believe you fools have me mistaken for those you prey upon. I have no quarrel with you; however, if you insist on this, then it will not be I that dies this night," Conner said, testing the hidden mechanisms that house the hidden blades in the cuffs of his coat. He was fast yet not fast enough to dodge a bullet at point-blank range. So his only option was to take out the men before his body weakened due to blood loss.

"Put a bullet in his head. I'm getting tired of his mouth," said the man to his right. Time seemed to slow for Conner as the blades of his throwing daggers left his hand. Wet thuds were met with gasping wet gargles as the two pawed at their throats before sinking into oblivion.

As the hammer of the gun flew forward. Conner only had milliseconds to place his body into a position where the bullet would do less damage. Conner's body jerked backward as the bullet tore through his right shoulder. Righting himself, the ring leader stood in stunned fear as he watched the wound close in on itself, with shaking hands aiming the gun at Conner's head. While the wound was painful, it wasn't anywhere near what he had endured. Conner had suffered enough pain to last two lifetimes. Catching the boy by the wrist, listening to the bones breaking underneath his grip. The sound of the gun hitting the asphalt was overshadowed by a woman's scream a block away.

"Run, little fool, for today you get another chance at life," Conner said, tossing the man aside. Conner didn't need to see which way the boy was running; his fear was easy enough to detect on the foul-laced air. His legs sped along the asphalt at an unnatural pace. He had sensed one of his own at the source of that scream. Conner hoped he could reach the woman before the vampire had his fill.

All Daniel ever wanted was to be one of the night children. After years of endless servitude, he had finally gotten what he wished for. Had he known those he once loved and cherished would look down upon him for being turned, he would have told Dustin to shove it; however, in his excitement, his mind failed to voice its concerns.

Conner looked down at the creature that appeared to be one of his kin. His unkempt hair flailed wildly in the breeze; his fidgeting movements told him he was either very young or just turned. If the mangled body at his feet was any sign of the state of the man's mind. His pale crooked fingers ran over his hands as he savored the rich blood coursing through his veins. Conner scowled at the sight every so often; those chosen to take the change are driven to the point of insanity. Those who could not be brought to heel were culled never to see another night. "Why hasn't his House put him into isolation, where the man wouldn't expose our kind to the world of man," Conner asked himself.

Conner had lived through one war with man and wasn't overly thrilled to do so again. Conner felt no joy in seeing a man brought low due to his own weakness. Nevertheless, Conner would be the man's herald into the next world. His heels touched lightly on the pavement as Conner glided down from the rooftop. Daniel was too engrossed in his merriment to notice the faint noise behind him. Berating himself for lingering over his meal. His master had always warned him to linger long enough to take what you need then move on. Now he was caught, and there was only one solution to his problem. Wicked glee spread across his face as he turned and launched himself at the thing at his back.