You’ve
come a long way, baby!
First,
he was ruthless, “mad, bad, and dangerous to know,” walking the
corridors of centuries and loving every minute of it…
Then
the “penitent vampire” raised his handsome head. Suddenly
immortality is no longer a blessing. He broadcasts his angst,
lamenting his ability to live forever, hating the fact that he’s
forced to kill others to continue his own survival, while he searches
the world for someone brave enough to accompany him on his Undead
travels.
After
that, he became sensitive,
hiding his immortality, getting a night job, making human friends,
actually coming to their rescue when needed and protecting them from
his fellow Undead, the so-called “predators”…
and
now, he sparkles…
Quite
frankly, the only time a vampire should sparkle is just before he
bursts into flame, and with that statement, I say, Bring
back the Old Time vamps!
And
I’m going to try, if I have to do it singlehandedly. With a little
individual tweaking here and there, they stick to the rules set down
long ago by Bram Stoker:
avoid
sunlight,
no
garlic allowed,
easy
on the crosses and holy water,
keep
plenty of native soil around,
bring
on the virgins!
Christopher
Landless is my latest Undead creation and he follows the lead set by
Damien laCroix, Vlad Chemare, the Andriescus, and Karel Novotny. Oh,
Kit has a bit more conscience than his nosferatu
brethren. He still remembers what it was to be human, but when it
gets right down to the nitty and the gritty, he fights to save those
like himself and not humans. In spite of that, I believe I’ve still
managed to make him someone the readers will like.
Kit’s
story stretches from 1794 to the year 2580. For a while, Man and
Vampire managed to live side-by-side peacefully, then a terrible
event occurs making humans decide vampires are too dangerous to be
allowed to go free. They’re imprisoned in concentration camps, on
islands surrounded by moats of blessed water.
It
was a challenge to fall back on the expected way of containing and
fighting vampires while transforming them into futuristic forms.
Staying true to the original genre while updating it to near-science
fiction f was a definite test of originality and writing skills. I
hope, I believe, I managed it adequately.
Who’s
killing the vampires of Albidon-7?
In
2392, the Vampire
Census and Treatment Bill
not only acknowledges that vampires exist but enables anyone under
“hemoglobin addiction” to be registered and supplied with the
substance of his addiction without reprimand or retribution. Then
the Bethel Bloodbath occurs in 2495, and vampires are considered too
dangerous to roam free. They’re contained in concentration camps on
various worlds. When several inmates are destroyed by someone
injecting silver nitrate into their blood transfusions, Lieutenant
Katherine Dalia enlists vampire leader Christopher Landless to help
her investigate.
Kit
wants nothing to do with a Breather but Katherine persists and soon
they’re not only involved in the crime but with each other.
Risking the loss of his vampire lover as well as the scorn of fellow
Undead as he embarks on a love affair with a mortal, Kit may discover
who wants imprisoned vampires dead but he’s also going to learn a
shocking truth…old
crimes never go unpunished.
Have your attention yet? Read below for an excerpt.
Kit's
attention was distracted as he heard someone call his name, turned
and saw Antony coming toward him.
Antony
Burgess was tall and blond also, four years younger than Kit when
they'd been alive, ten years his junior as an Undead.
He
smiled a greeting as the younger man raised one hand.
Kit
and Antony were contemporaries; they'd been robbers together, shared
adventures, many noggins of ale, and assorted women during their
brief lifespans, and Kit considered Tony his best friend.
He
reached Kit's side. "Well, another week, another pint! Not like
the ones we slugged down in the Coachman,
but ’twill suffice, I suppose!" As Kit made an agreeing sound,
he turned to Honor, seized her hand and planted a quick kiss upon it.
"Good even, my Lady! Awaiting yon delectable feast?"
Antony
always assumed that pseudo-eighteenth century manner when around
Honor. He knew it amused her.
Her
smile matched his. "Aye, Tony—such as ’twill be!"
That
brought a loud sigh. "Oh, damn, it does leave a lot to be
desired, doesn't it?"
"Do
I detect a note of dissatisfaction?" Kit asked. Antony, he'd
found, had always been adaptable to whatever came along, accepting it
in the best humor possible.
"Blast
it, Kit—you know I always try to see the bright side, but—"
The blond head shook, pale brows scowling downward, mouth following;
whenever Antony was negative, so was his entire body. "I miss
it—the stalking, the thrill of the hunt...." he sighed again,
"...fresh
blood,
hot from...." Honor made a slight sound and he stopped
apologetically, "Sorry, Honor—that wasn't very gallant of me,
was it—reminding us of what we've lost?"
She
put a hand on his arm, "It's all right, Tony, we all—"
and broke off as he gasped slightly and jerked away from her grasp.
"What is it?"
"I—"
He shook his head, brushing one hand across his eyes, "I don't
know.... Suddenly I feel dizzy...."
Once
more, Honor touched his arm only to have him again move away.
"Don't!
That hurts!"
"Tony,
what—" Kit began, sharply cutting off the rest of the sentence
as his friend turned a stricken face toward him.
"Kit—"
Abruptly, he doubled over, Kit catching him as he fell, hearing him
gasp, "Dear
God, Kit, my veins are on fire!"
and nearly dropping him in the shock of hearing Antony actually
speaking the Name.
He
slid to the ground, was on his knees, vainly attempting to stand, the
pain keeping him bent over. One hand clawed at Kit's arm and he
seized his friend by the shoulder, trying to haul him upright, seeing
something that stopped the movement.
There
was blood on his sleeve.
For
a moment, he thought the scrabbling fingers had scratched him, then
realized with a jolt of absolute fear that the blood was coming from
Antony, seeping from under the short, perfectly manicured nails of
the pale hand clutching his forearm.
Others
were noticing now, beginning to hover around, a murmur floating
through them.
"What's
happened?"
"What's
wrong?"
Kit
was still attempting to lift him bodily, surprised at how heavy the
younger man suddenly became, at how weak he abruptly was.
Antony
raised his head, face contorted in pain, mouth opening to scream. The
veins in his neck were swelling, filling like pipes with no outlet
for their flow, vessels in his eyes shredding, the conjunctiva
suffused with blood, and Kit's own startled eyes met the suffering
blue ones awash in that sea of red.
"Kit...."
A single strangled sound of anguish.
Antony's
body exploded.
Kit
staggered backward under the blast of blood washing over him,
clutching a moment at the hand before it slid from his grasp. Then,
he simply stood there, stunned and silent, staring down at the
ruptured mass of flesh that had been his friend.
Honor
touched his shoulder and he turned toward her slightly, started to
take her in his arms, then realized he was covered with Antony's
blood and pushed her away.
Behind
him, one of the females began to sob quietly, pressing her face
against a male's shoulder.
By
this time, a Med-tech and one of the guards, hearing the commotion,
had arrived. The sentry, taking a brief, face-blanching look at the
body, was kneeling a few feet away, vomiting loudly into the Compound
dirt, while the other vainly followed his training and attempted to
find a pulse.
Kit
had an almost overwhelming desire to laugh at the absurdity of his
actions and wondered if he were about to succumb to hysteria.
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