Hunted Blood II: Dark Reign Ch. 4byAmenRa©
Hunted Blood II: Dark Reign Ch 4
There was another sharp flash of pain. Stone tried to open his eyes, but the lids were too heavy and seemed to be stuck together. His head spun, even though he was fairly certain that he was sitting still. Something pulled at his right shoulder, extending down the brachial nerve into his upper arm. There was a dull, aching pain in the left side of his neck. His mouth hurt, jaws aching. He remembered.
He and Mariko had entered the top floor of the club. They had searched through the floors, in descending order, until they reached the bottom. Then all hell broke loose. Vampires poured from the sub-floor. The two hunters were attacked from all directions. Stone was sure that they had killed several. He was not so sure that several hadn't killed them. If he could only open his eyes, he would know for sure.
A snapping sound brought him back to The Now. He concentrated as best as he could. Stone opened his eyes, realizing that his left eyelid tore apart from what could only have been dried and crusted blood. He waited a few seconds for his vision to focus. He realized that he was weak, and his head was pounding.
The room he was in was dimly lit. There was a shape on the floor in front of him. It appeared to be a body. A form was really all he could see. The floor was bare tile, the walls gray and non-descript. A single light bulb hung from a fixture in the ceiling. The place smelled. It stank of blood. His blood, he realized.
Michael discovered that he was sitting in a straight backed, wooden chair. His arms were bound to the chair arms by thick, plastic "zip" ties. He attempted to move his feet, then found that they too were bound to the legs of the chair in the same fashion. He gazed down and realized that his kevlar/spandex bodysuit had been removed. He was clad simply in a loose-fitting pair of pajama pants. He saw that his thigh pack, the holster and the H&K had all been removed. He could only wonder where his sword could be. He grimaced, letting the realization sink in that he had been captured.
The snapping sound came again. Stone wearily looked up to where the figure lay in front of him. He now saw that there were two shapes. His vision sharpened, and the realization of what lay before him hit him. Stone felt the bile rising in his stomach at the same time as a cold chill ran down his spine.
The figure lying on the floor was Mariko. Stone could see her black hair, tousled and wet with blood. Her once beautiful mouth was now slack with the grimace of death. The other, Michael saw, was a male vampire fastened securely to Mariko's neck. It sucked greedily, drawing the very last drops of blood from her body. Stone saw Mariko's head hanging limply as the creature cradled her shoulders unceremoniously, pulling her limp form to it as it fed. Michael realized that the snapping sound he heard was Mariko's neck breaking as the unholy animal pulled her head farther back to expose more of her throat.
Michael tried to move. He was too weak. In his mind, he saw himself leaping upon the vampire, gouging out its eyes with his fingers, tearing its evil fangs from its mouth with his own hands. He tried to speak, but his mouth was dry, and he only managed to hiss. The fiend didn't even look up from its feeding.
Another sound assaulted his ears. The sound of the room's only door lock being thrown back from outside even managed to get the attention of the feeding vampire. Stone saw it look up as the door opened.
A female vampire, a pretty Japanese, entered the room, followed by a fair-haired male. They, in turn, were followed by a tall male with chiseled, European features, and jet-black hair that was held in a tail down his back. The tall one spoke first.
"That should be all," he said to the feeding vampire. The small Japanese gave one last look at Mariko's corpse and dropped it to the floor. Stone felt his jaw muscles clinch, a movement which brought a tinge of pain.
"And now," the tall one said, "for you, Mr. Michael Stone, Hunter of Vampires. How shall you die?"
Stone said nothing. He only stared impassively at them.
The tall one stepped closer. "Yes," he said, "I know who you are. I know many, many things about you". The tall one leaned down, inches from Stone's face. "You may call me Akuma," he stated.
Stone only looked at him, regarding the vampire Akuma as nothing more than a piece of dogshit. If he was anything more, then the vampire would untie him, and face him. Why was he tied, Michael asked himself. He was secured because Akuma feared him. And well he should.
"I would like to know more about The Organization," Akuma stated.
Stone stared at him, an expression of total blankness on his face. Michael was conditioned. His mind was hardened. He would tell Akuma nothing of the secret society of vampire hunters. Stone would die first.
"I thought as much," Akuma said. "I knew that one such as you would not willingly divulge any information about your secret organization. That is why I have this," Akuma told him, holding out his hand. The female vampire laid a hypodermic syringe in Akuma's palm.
Stone said nothing. He knew what was coming. They planned to torture him, with the use of truth-extracting drugs to force him to talk. Stone knew that he must prepare himself. He immediately sent his mind deep within himself, and began reciting poems, literature, dissertations, anything that would serve as mental armor. He began to let these seep into his subconcious. Although he was awake, he didn't even notice when Akuma plunged the hypodermic needle into his right arm.
The drug entered his bloodstream. Stone was aware of a burning at the injection site, and then the warm feeling that began to course through his body. His concious mind became cloudy, fuzzy, hard to focus. Soon, he was passing into sleep.
Anita woke with a start. She looked around her bed chambers, secure in a manor nestled in the Spanish city of Segovia. The heavy drapes were drawn, and the shades were down, for it was daytime, and no light should enter the room. She rubbed her eyes, wondering what had awakened her.
Then she felt pain. It was detached and quiet, yet it was pain. She found her fingers caressing the small crucifix that she wore around her neck, a gift from her beloved. The touch brought feelings to her, like tiny electric sparks. Then her body was suddenly alive with the pain, and it filled her with dread. Michael Stone was hurting. He was in agony, fleshful agony. And he was becoming worse.
Within an instant she was dressed and dailing on the bedroom phone. Quickly she descended into the underground parking garage, where a human "friend" drove her blackened-window car toward an airport. At the airport, a plane awaited. It was a plane that her and others like her used for transport around the world. She only hoped it would fly fast enough.
It was only a few minutes after her careful, cloaked boarding that the Gulfstream IV taxied into position for take off. It was not long after that the aircraft was climbing to cruising altitude, heading East.
Stone woke. He felt as though someone was inside his head with a bundle of C4, randomly setting off the charges. And it was hard for him to concentrate, to think. All he could remember were some random thoughts about Samuel Coleridge, Kipling, Edgar Allen Poe, and Shakespeare. Why the hell was he thinking about that? Oh yeah, he was thirsty, too. His mouth had a funny, metallic taste in it, and it felt like it was filled with cotton.
There was a face in front of his. Stone looked at it with half-lidded eyes. It was a strong looking face. Black hair, kind of long. Somewhat out of style, Stone figured. Stone seemed to recall the face. Oh yes, he remembered. It was the Devil.
The Devil spoke to him, "Talk to me, Michael. Tell me what I want to know."
Stone tried to speak, but he couldn't. His mouth was too dry. Not that he could tell the Devil what he wanted to know, anyway. Michael had no fucking clue what the Devil wanted to know.
Akuma saw Stone's predicament, and placed the rim of a glass of water to Stone's lips. Michael opened and drank a few swallows.
"Does the water help?" the devil inquired.
Water? Ah, yes, Stone thought. Water.
"Water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink," Stone stated in monotone.
The fair-haired vampire laughed. "What the hell did he say?"
"Its a poem, you ignorant fool," Akuma answered. He then turned back to Stone. "Mr. Stone, do not toy with me, for I shall surely become your albatross."
"One by one by the star-dogged moon, too quick for groan or sigh," Stone recited, "each turned his face with a ghastly pang and cursed me with his eye." Michael congratulated himself quietly for being able to recall the passage from The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner.
"Impressive," Akuma said, applauding silently. He then slapped Stone sharply across the face. Michael's head rocked with the blow, then returned to stare passively at the devil.
"I do not have time to play!" Akuma shouted.
"The play is the thing," Stone said, smiling, "where I will catch the conscience of the king." Shakespeare was always a favorite too.
Akuma raised his hand to slap Stone again, then reconsidered. He stood, straightened his pony tail, and looked to the female. "This is pointless," he stated. "Stone will not tell us anything. His mind is too strong, too well conditioned." Akuma looked at Stone again. "I must say, I am impressed. He is indeed a warrior."
Akuma picked Stone's chin up, looking into his glassy, bloodshot eyes. "A pity," the vampire leader remarked. "He would have made a great ally." Akuma turned back to the female. "But, he is to die. Drain him," Akuma said, seeing her almost leap upon Stone. "Slowly," he told her, catching her by her arm. "Let him die slowly. We have almost a full day's cycle before we depart."
The female nodded, a wicked smile forming on her lips, the tips of her fangs protruding over her bottom lip only slightly. She turned to leave with the rest. She would return later, after the injected truth drug had been filtered from Stone's bloodstream. She didn't like the way it made the blood taste.
Michael did not know how much time had passed. He did not know whether it was night or day. All he did know, at this moment, was that he was hurting. His entire body ached, not to mention his right shoulder. He tensed the muscle there, feeling a sharp, lashing pain spread into his back and arm. It was dislocated for certain.
His jaw hurt as well. Obviously he had been struck repeatedly in the area.
But what really bothered him was his neck. He could only assume that he had been bitten. Which would account for the weakness he felt. The headache, lightheadedness, and nausea were the obviously signals of the blood loss. Then, too, he remembered, they had injected him with something. Whatever it was only magnified the effects of the blood loss. Stone weakly looked down, and saw where he had vomited bile on his lap.
The door opened, and a female vampire walked in. Stone recognized her. She was pretty. He had seen her before, as she had came in with the one called Akuma. She approached him, smiling. Stone saw the gleam of her fangs.
She said nothing. She simply grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his head to one side. She then bit him on the neck. Stone could not fight her as he felt her teeth sink into his skin over the same location that was already throbbing with pain. She straddled his lap, caring nothing for the stain of sickness on his lap. She began to make muffled cooing noises as she drank. Stone could feel her rocking her hips, grinding her pubic mound against his.
Michael could not move. He had no way to fight. And, he was too weak to fight her even if he could. As he felt her sucking mouth drawing out his precious blood, Michael resigned himself to fate. If this was the end, then so be it. He was a warrior, and he would embrace his death as a warrior should. Stone forced himself into the mushi-no-in, the mind of no mind. He locked himself into a world of emptiness. His last, memorable thought was of Anita, the vampire who loved him. He would miss her. Then Stone became no longer conciously aware of the vampire bitch that was humping his groin as she drank his blood.
Yuki orgasmed quickly. She removed her mouth from Stone's neck, wiping her chin with the back of her hand. She stood, watching the blood trickle down his neck and onto his chest, where it mixed with the dried stains of earlier. The flow stopped. She saw Stone's face was slack, his breathing shallow. One more feeding like this, she knew, and he would be no more.
"No!" Anita shouted, alone in the darkened passenger cabin of the plane. The images were coming to her now, as they neared. She saw Michael bleeding. She felt him. She knew that he was close to death. She willed the aircraft to hurry, willing it to fly faster. She must get to him. She must save him. Oh God, she silently pleaded, please don't take him from me.
"Is everything is place?" Akuma asked the blonde-haired American vampire.
"Yes, sir," came the reply. The younger vampire handed his master a cd-rom. "All of our European contacts have been alerted. They will be waiting for you."
"Good," Akuma replied, steepling his fingers and sitting back in his leather chair. "I almost hate to leave this place. The people here are so accomodating," he smiled, looking at the still, pale form of a naked Japanese girl. She had been a whore, picked personally by him from an expensive hotel bar. He remembered how her blood tasted as he sucked it from her neck while he fucked her.
Akuma stood. "Get my people ready to move," he ordered. "We leave in twelve hours. Oh, and make sure Yuki knows that you and she are personally responsible for our interests here. This place is useful. Tell her I expect her to have everything ready when I return."
"As you wish," the boy said, turning to leave. Yuki would be downstairs, attending to the death of the hunter they had captured. Greg was really glad he got to stay with her. Not only was she a good vampire, she had some of the best pussy he had ever had. Not that he had gotten much in his life.
Anita had waited impatiently inside the aircraft as a human friend, a travelling companion, had taken care of renting a car for her. Now she sat staring, unblinking, as she drove the rented BMW through the darkening streets. She was relying totally on feeling now, letting her mind guide her through the city to Michael. She could feel him. So close to death, she knew. But she was close to him. It was not far at all, now. She could feel his presence getting stronger. As the sun completed it's setting, Anita turned onto a mountain road, heading towards the hills.
She had suppressed herself, blocking her presence that would be felt in the minds of other vampires. She existed only as a black spot on a darkened sky. However, she felt everything. Her hypersenses were assaulted by the emanations of others of her kind. No, they were not her kind. Not at all.
An old, familiar presence beckoned its way into her mind. She blocked it before her concious mind drifted into its familiarities. She concentrated only on Stone. The other presence was receding, anyway. She could feel it getting weaker.
She could almost hear Michael's beating heart now. His presence, although strong with emotion now, was dwindling. Anita knew that the tall pagota at the top of the road was where he waited for her, dying.
"It is indeed a shame," Yuki said to Stone. His head hung limply, nodding with his chin touching his chest. Her vampire ears picked up the sound of his breathing. It was shallow and weak. His heart still pumped blood through his veins. Blood that would soon be hers. She felt her fangs extend at the thought of it. Her pulse quickened in anticipation of the bite that would bring the rush of metallic-tasting sweetness into her mouth. She approached him.
Yuki lifted his chin and stared into cold, clouded eyes. Then she bit him. The blood began to trickle, slowly, as she had only punctured his neck with one of her fangs. She wanted to savor this. She sucked slowly, licking the small flow as she undid the fasteners to the front of her blouse. She reached her free hand to her breasts and began to tease her nipples as she drained the blood from Michael Stone's body.
It had been easy for her, a vampire of great age and power, to leap over the wall that surrounded the multi-storied home. There were other vampires here, on the upper levels of the house, but not that many. Her senses led her into the bottom level, where she walked silently down a dimly lighted hall. A door stood closed at the end of the hall. Anita sensed her beloved beyond the door. She also sensed another vampire.
There was a watchdog at the door. A human. He cocked his head to one side as Anita approached him. She smiled at him, the bare light bulbs shining onto her teeth. He did not recognize her, but nodded his head nonetheless. All vampires looked alike after awhile. He really didn't care, because they paid him very well.
Like the striking of a snake, Anita reached out and picked the man up with her hands on the side of his face. She made a fast, twisting motion with her arms, and she heard a satisfying snap as the watchdog's neck was broken.
She stepped to the door, placed her hand against it, and pushed. It flew from its hinges, landing with a thud on the bare tiled floor inside the room. Anita stepped into the room, and her eyes went wide. She saw Michael. And she saw someone feeding from him.
Yuki looked over her shoulder at the sudden crash. She saw the female vampire with the dark hair standing in the doorway. She did not know who the intruder was, but she did know that the beautiful creature standing there was not a friend. With a shriek, Yuki lauched herself at Anita.
Anita raised her right hand, her palm facing the Japanese vampire who had just become airborne. Anita focused her will, and Yuki's leap was stopped in mid-air. Anita heard the bitch shriek as she came to rest a good three feet off the floor. Anita then pushed her flattened palm outwards, and Yuki was slammed against the opposite wall. Anita's will held her there, pinned against the wall with unseen force. Yuki was spread-eagled against the cold plaster, unable to move, unable to fight the sheer psychic will of one so strong.
Anita narrowed her eyes, her fangs bared. Yuki suddenly arched away from the wall in her middle, and the sounds of bones snapping apart echoed inside the small room. Then, her chest literally peeled open, the skin seperating with the bones underneath in a clean line from her throat to her navel. Her heart, lungs, and entrails spilled onto the floor. Anita released the psychic hold on Yuki's corpse, and it toppled onto the pile of her insides.
She was to him within a second. Her vampire strength allowed her to break the plastic tie straps that bound Stone to the chair. She cradled him in her arms. Tears welled into her eyes as she felt his dwindling pulse. "Please," she whispered, "hold on, my love."
Her psychic bond with Michael was completed in this instant. Anita felt him inside her mind, and his voice was that of a small child. Yet, there was a certainty to it. He was not afraid. He was only alone.
She saw the dojo of Master Osato. She saw images of the old samurai master holding open the door. As she drew these pictures from Stone's mind, Anita picked up Michael's limp form and made her way hastily to her car. She had him now. But, there was an urgency beyond that of before. Without blood, Michael Stone would surely die.