Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Another Kind Of Mercy3 - Incongruous


A light drizzle rained feeling on the pale, dead skin of a young vampire. A pile of freshly dug earth mixed to mud and dripped steadily over the still body. The boy’s human name had been Trevor Snow and he had been nineteen the night he had been bitten nearly two years before. Unlike normal humans, the body of one bitten by a vampire did not rot and decay at a quick rate. Sometimes it would take decades for the first signs to manifest.

Warm hands pried open the stiff mouth of the corpse, pink fingers pulling out a clove of garlic. The hands threw the garlic well beyond the confines of the small cemetery, then they reached down. A thin silver knife nailed the soul into the body that had housed it faithfully for so long. It was carefully extracted and tossed to the side.

Daniel H. Harris pulled himself out of the grave. In five minutes the vampire would re-awaken, hungry and alive. The thirty-year-old man wiped his hands on his faded blue jeans, adjusted his coat and walked calmly away.

Daniel let his troubled blue eyes focus on the grassy plots of the graveyard and then the indifferent gray of the sidewalk. In five minutes time he would be on a bus and halfway across the city. He had saved a soul from eternal captivity and in several hours time he would find another graveyard and another vampire to free. Daniel Harris was a Reformer.

The Reformers had started off as a group of three humans against cruelty to paranormal creatures. Their protests had started small, slowly building momentum as the number of their followers increased over the years. Now they were several thousand strong, although they worked hard to remain under the radar.

Finally, the time had come for them to exert their power over change. Freeing the vampires was just one step that would lead to peace among the different creatures of the planet earth. Not all of them were valued or accepted, yet, but the Reformers would soon change that reality. Fifty major cities, a hundred Reformers in all, simultaneously finding and rescuing as many vampires as possible. The clan of the undead would soon be reunited. Daniel felt confident that his choice had been the right one.

All living beings deserved a life - vampires were no exception in David’s mind. He reached the bus station just in time to step onto the waiting transportation. He claimed an empty seat in the far back, he let his gaze drift out the window towards the cemetery where his latest charity case would be gasping fresh air, hungering for life blood.

There was no guilt over the fact that an innocent might die that night. Daniel was a firm believer in Fate. If it was meant to happen then nothing would be able to prevent it. Everything happened for a reason, the man was certain of this ultimate truth.

He let his eyes close, leaning his head back against the seat. He could feel eyes on him, the other passengers curiosity drawing them to the man with the spiked red hair, black leather coat and ragged, fingerless gloves. In stark contrast of this grunge, punk look were the softened expression on his angelic face. No piercing or tattoos marred the delicate, almost feminine features that had garnered him hundreds of stares over the long years of his life.

The drizzle outside turned into a downpour as Daniel relaxed even further, slumping down in the seat, his coat hugged tight around his body. His pale pink mouth fell into a thin line as he tried to remember the address of his next target. He had made the mistake of forgetting his little black book that morning. A soft sigh escaped from between his lips. He would need to buy another shovel.


Trevor Snow choked on his own dry tongue. He tried to swallow, tried desperately to breath air into his lungs, but something was very wrong. Scared brown eyes widened at the feeling of vertigo that swept over him, blurring his vision into a twisted image of a claustrophobic grave. He screamed in fear and jerked upright in the coffin.

“Help!” He yelled, his lungs finally filling with crisp air.

No one responded to his cry and he did not wait to find out why. Fear pumped through his body, his heart speeding up to match the adrenaline flowing through his veins. He stood up, unsteady on legs that felt like they had never been used. He felt his stomach rebel and then he gagged, unable to expel contents that no longer existed.

The taste of garlic in his mouth made him heave again and again. Cold, stiff fingers clawed into the dirt sides of the grave as Trevor pulled himself painfully out of the pit. He lay panting on the ground above, unwilling to look around himself for several long minutes.

A downpour of rain left him choking again, this time on cold water from the heavens. The young man’s jaw worked automatically as he swallowed the liquid. His body craved liquid. His eyebrows drew together in confusion. Not water though. Something else, something thick and heavy and full of life. His gasps came in shorter bursts.


Natalia Drummer walked as quickly as she dared in four inch heels over rainy cement. She held an umbrella covered in cartoon cats and dogs over her head. Long, wavy red hair fell over her shivering shoulders. It had been a long day at work and the dancer wanted nothing more than to get out of the weather. Her jacket had been stolen during break and she was left with barely anything to cover her pristine form. A tight, golden leather dress hugged her body, pushing her breasts upwards and affording no heat. She hunched her shoulders, keeping her head down.

The cemetery off to her right gave her even more of an incentive to walk the three blocks to her apartment as fast as possible. She glanced over her shoulder towards the main gates of the graveyard and relaxed a fraction to see that they were still safely padlocked from the outside. She had a fear of ghosts that had been instilled over years of watching Stephen King movies with her late boyfriend. He had been into the “Goth” scene and she had humored his strange idiosyncrasies. At least, until he had brought out the leather binding straps. She saw enough freaks at her work.

A dancer was the formal title she used to introduce herself to new acquaintances, but stripper was the street term.

Natalia felt someone watching her which was not unusual considering her get-up, but it made her hurry a little faster all the same. She was practically jogging in heels meant for nothing beyond a brisk walk. Her eyes grew wide with fear and she forced herself to remain calm. She gripped her house keys in one hand, ready to fight if it came to that. She took a deep, steadying breath and tried to resist the urge to glance over her shoulder again.

Footsteps sounded behind her, she tensed.


Daniel H. Harris had found his next subject.

A folding shovel had cost an extra fifteen dollars, but it was money well spent. He went to work digging up the grave - a time consuming and exhausting effort that would reap a giant reward. Another vampire would be freed onto a world that should have never shunned or forgotten the majestic creatures. Once human they had been turned into something beautiful and immortal. David felt sweat soak through his shirt, muscles aching after his previous job.

One more grave and then he would call it a night and go home to his fish and plants. Not a relationship man, David had been waiting for love to come to him. So far it had been a lonely life. He had no one beyond a distant cousin whom he never spoke to and the Reformers. They had been like a second family to him and now he did their work religiously.

He had six feet and two minutes to go. Then it was back home to his plants and fish.


Trevor shadowed the woman, his thirst and hunger growing by the second. He wanted to taste her blood. It felt so strange and yet so right. He shook his head, ran a hand through his brown hair and at last gave into the compulsion.

He was surprised at how good it felt, how easy it had been to kill. The initial spring that had felled her left him wondering at his own super-human abilities, but Trevor gave it little thought after his first bite had allowed him access to the crimson life that flowed inside her veins. The woman had tasted so beautiful and kind. He could sense her character through her lifeblood. It gave him goose bumps.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he questioned his actions. A law of human nature still ingrained in his conscious. It would fade with time, as it always did in the minds of vampires. They slowly but steadily grew out of their old natures. Trevor had no idea what had happened to him or what would happen later all he had a clear grasp on was the present and the insatiable hunger for more. More blood and more life.

A tongue snaked out between blood covered lips to gratefully lap up what was left of the meal he had enjoyed thoroughly. The last few spilled drops coming off the dead woman’s warm neck easily. He stood to his feet.

The sounds of the city played around him in a tune of oblivious self-absorption. The teenage body was clothed by the same suit he had been buried in so long before, but the clothing had grown old and tattered by the ravages of time. He looked down at his bloody shirt front and unceremoniously ripped it off with the same impossible strength he had used to murder.

Thick, dark eyebrows fell in a confused glower, his brow furrowing as he thought threw the last few days of his memories. They were shady and broken, splintered around an attack of some kind. Waking in a graveyard did little to dissuade his growing doubt. Fear clawed to get out, but Trevor took a steadying breath, letting the cold air on his exposed chest draw him back to the present. He needed clothes and the rest of his questions he could answer later. When he had more to drink.

He wiped at the red blood on his face, it smeared across the back of his hand.


Seth looked over his shoulder, wary of the shadows moving just outside the scope of his vision. He sniffed the air with his long, dark snout at the suspicious behavior. He hated going outside the monastery. Holy ground kept his family and he safe, but on the rare occasion he had no choice in the matter.

There had been talk of a new vampire, a young one, in the neighborhood and he wished to offer an alternative to the fledgling. Seth was the overseer for an underground safe house for those of supernatural tendencies that wished to change their lives. He was more than that, Seth was a werewolf. He understood the pressures and the fears.

The early evening’s soft drizzle had finally abated, but his breath still came out in sharp clouds of condensation. The creature looked through glowing red eyes at the silent world. It was well past midnight and he had the next three blocks to himself. A dim moon hung low in the sky, veiled by the smog and smoke from an active city. Seth shrugged his cloak closer about him and moved quickly through the distance separating him from his target. Rumors had put the young vampire in an abandoned warehouse near the waterfront district.

Seth hurried faster, his pawed feet pattering softly along the damp cement. He had thirty minutes before his children had been instructed to send help. Vampires were dangerous creatures and he did not want to get bitten.


Daniel H. Harris took a bite of his yogurt, sighing as he leaned back in the kitchen chair. It had been a good day, a long day. Three vampires had been released from their forced captivity. He would report the numbers to the Reformers in the morning. For now, he was ready to just have a cold beer and get some sleep.

Ten minutes later he watered his plants, fed his fish and then flicked off the lights. Through the semi-darkness illuminated only by the streetlights outside he made his way to the bed.

Tomorrow would come soon enough. The clock read past midnight.


Seth glanced cautiously around the front of the building before attempting to access a side door. The warehouse was large and smelled strongly of rats. The werewolf ran a pawed hand over his thickly furred face. He hated rats.

Scratching and the soft patter of tiny feet greeted him when the door was pushed silently open. Inside was dark, but his red eyes could easily distinguish the forms within. Boxes and barrels stacked and then deserted were trailing dust and cobwebs. The floor was covered in boot prints. All the same size, all small. Either a woman or a young man.

Seth sniffed the air - he felt no presence, but vampires were always difficult to sense. He walked further into the warehouse, passing a tall stack of boxes on his left. He cocked his head to one side, his advanced hearing had distinguished a sound that did not fit. He knew that if the vampire was present, it had already become aware of him, there was no reason to keep hiding.

“My name is Seth…I have come…to help.” The werewolf spoke loudly, pulling down the hood to reveal his own creaturely features. “You have nothing to fear from me.”

“What are you.”

Seth’s keen hearing could not pinpoint the origin of the voice. He stepped further into an open space towards the middle of the warehouse. He looked around, his peripheral vision picking up movement on the far left corner of the ceiling. He stood very still.

“Why don’t you come out so that we can talk about it.” Seth invited calmly. “I’m not going to hurt you, vampire.”

There was a gasp from the ceiling. Seth could make out a dark shape moving down the wall. He opened his hands, ready to defend himself with four inch long claws, their dark color blending with his brown robe. He watched the shape reach the floor and flit from cover to cover until the glowing red eyes could just make out a young man. Pale, scared and half-naked. The vampire approached hesitantly, distrust emanating from him in waves. The werewolf could smell the young creature’s fear.

“I am not going to hurt you.” He repeated the reassurance. “Unless I have to.”

“What’s that suppose to mean?” The young creature asked, his words laced with sarcasm.

“I guess my answer to your question hinges on you answering mine…honestly.” Seth replied. “Have you killed anyone?”

The young non-human flinched away, taking a step back towards the shadows. “I didn’t mean to! You have to believe me, I didn’t understand what I was…what I was doing…what I had become.” He took a shuddering breath. “None of it made sense then. Until I learned the truth.”

This grabbed Seth’s attention. “Who told you ‘the truth’, boy?”

“My name is Trevor - Trevor Snow.”

Seth grunted in acknowledgement, his red gaze focused intently on the boy. “And? What was this entities name?”

Trevor took a small step in the direction of the werewolf, once it seemed evident to him that Seth was not going to try anything. The young creature hugged himself with cold arms trying to bring back a heat that would never again fill his being. He still could not truly fanthom the idea that he was a walking dead.

“He said his name was Daniel H. Harris.”

“H. Harris?” Seth raised a furry eyebrow.

The boy shrugged. “He was kind of weird about it too, making sure that I remembered his full name like that. He said that history was being made - that freedom was coming.”

Seth frowned. That sounded like the talk of a Reformer. He had met a few in his day and they made his skin crawl.

“Did this Harris mention anything about Reformers?”

The young vampire shook his head, brown eyes wide. “No. He just told me his name, said that thing about freedom and then he took off. I tried to follow him, but he lost me on a bus route. That’s when I stumbled across this place.”

Seth hated asking the question, but it was necessary. He took a deep breath, trying to find the right way to phrase the words. Delicate situations were often times so easily turned volatile. He would have to handle this young vampire with care.

“How many souls have you drank?” He asked quietly, no condemnation in his voice.

Trevor’s eyes widened further and his self-hug tightened. “A few.”

“I was afraid of that.” Defeat bled into Seth’s voice. “Did you turn any of them?”

The boy vehemently shook his head. “No.”

“You’re sure.”

“I’m positive. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want any of this.” His voice choked with emotion Trevor bowed his head. “It’s all a nightmare.”


Daniel H. Harris tapped his fingers in a staccato rhythm on the table-top in his apartment. He sat staring at the half-eaten bowl of rice sitting in front of him, steam and delicious scent distracting him further. The Reformer knew that he had forgotten to do something the day before, but what that something happened to be, he could not remember. His brow furrowed deeply as he thought over all of his actions the day before trying to pinpoint the exact moment he had noticed something missing.

He remembered the three vampires before dinner. The shovel! He had forgotten his shovel at the last gravesite. Daniel clenched his jaw in agitation. Losing to shovels in one night made him more than irritated at himself. He pushed the bowl of rice away, no longer hungry.

A frown turned down the corners of the Reformers mouth.


Seth lead Trevor Snow into the front door of the monestary. The youngster hesitated a few steps inside, his dark gaze flitting nervously over the religious room.

“Are you sure that the crosses won’t hurt me or something?” He asked with concern. “I’ve seen a lot of movies. I know that vampires aren’t suppose to go on sacred ground.”

Seth chuckled dryly. “Movies are not considered real for a reason. You will be fine. There are other vampires staying with me, but all have taken an oath to abstain from drinking human blood.” His tone turned low and serious. “You are only allowed inside my home as long as you hold to this oath.”

Trevor nodded in acceptance. “I understand.” He gulped before adding softly. “I never wanted anyone to die. If I could take back those few murders…I wouldn’t hesitate. It was pure instinct driving me and I hope it never happens again.”

Seth patted the boys cold shoulder reassuringly. “We will see to that, do not worry.”


TLC's said...

Very Good ! Have a Great Day at Janets. Tell me how it went. Luv U!

Ebbtide said...

I'll let ya know!! Thanks, for the review. ;). :D :D