Blood Crusade Page 5

  “Say what you will about them--they respect knowledge. She was so close to death, she had to drink the blood of twelve vampires, including Claudius, when she was turned. Hypatia earned the respect and admiration of the Senate. She had every right to hate humans and yet she defended them to the end,” Harold the professor said.

  “You’re sure Claudius was responsible for her death?” It’s often been said that Claudius is a supreme evil asshole.

  “Oh, quite sure. He had no power over her since he was one of twelve vampires who turned her—their control over her was diluted.”

  Harold told me that Claudius had gifted Hypatia with an Alfa Romeo 8C Competizione, a sweet little sports car. He told her to take a vacation and reconsider the genocide agenda that the Illuminati tried to justify with claims that they would be saving the planet from environmental destruction and global warming. “It’s really nothing more than a plan for them to go back to ‘the golden age of rule’ as they speak of it with fond remembrance.”

  “The golden rule--that doesn’t sound like the Illuminati,” I said. “I’m familiar with the ethic of reciprocity. Jesus spoke of ‘do unto others as you would have them do unto you’ and so did Confucius, but the elite don’t even come close to following that.”

  “You are mistaken, some of them care about humanity,” he said. “Hypatia cared a great deal. But no, what I meant is that he who owns the gold makes the rules. They want to return to the system of masters and slaves as in Ancient Rome.”

  Of course, I knew that some vampires cared about humanity, Lance was a prime example of such empathy but many of them were power-seeking, blood-thirsty killers.

  He continued telling me about Hypatia, her love of teaching and her hope for humanity. She’d been a philosopher, astronomer, mathematician and inventor. They shared a laugh when they arrived at their remote cabin and opened the bottle of 1996 Dom Perignon Claudius had given her. Another gift, they thought, to buy her vote for the New World Order.

  “I will convince the council that there is another way,” she told Harold. “Birth control is the answer to overpopulation; it must be available to everyone. We can have a positive future with a focus on solar and wind power, an end to wars, education for the masses--compassion and the law must rule, not Claudius.”

  It was after they had toasted the fall of Claudius that she felt ill. She vomited blood and began shaking uncontrollably. It wasn’t as if they could call 911 for help, Harold explained. No hospital would know how to treat a sick vampire. They had to find a vampire doctor. There were a lot of doctors who were vampires but only two vampire physicians in the world who actually treated sick vampires. A vampire in crisis was something that rarely happened.

  Harold choked up when he described her death by blazing desert sunlight. Claudius knew they would flee the cabin to seek help for Hypatia’s condition. They left at nightfall when they thought they could safely drive the desert highway. However, the Alfa broke down on a deserted strip of highway, too much of a coincidence to be an accident, and Hypatia realized her fate. She had no place to hide from the sun’s rays--there is no trunk in a sports car and she was too ill to fly away. They realized then that she’d been poisoned and set up for death by Claudius. His brilliant wife, he said, had been duped by an evil scumbag.

  “She told me to be happy about the time we’d had together. She wasn’t afraid to die; she didn’t want to see what was to come, anyway. I held her until the sun came up and I would have gladly embraced her while we were both consumed by flames but she broke away and ran into the desert to die. There was nothing left but ashes, my fond memories of her, and this,” he said, opening his briefcase and taking out a lovely amulet. His hands trembled as he placed it in my palm.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said, holding it up to the light. It was a solid gold, winged scarab with inlaid turquoise on its wings and emeralds for eyes. It held the sun in the form of a ruby. The gem had inclusions of titanium oxide which created a stunning star effect. Ancient symbols were carved into the body; they resembled hieroglyphics but were unique from any I’d ever seen. I was familiar with Egyptian antiquities--it appeared to be genuine--a protective amulet associated with, of all things, the Sun God Ra.

  “It was worn by Cleopatra. A friend of hers gave it to Hypatia. The Egyptians believed the dung beetle was connected with the creative life force. The beetles lay their eggs in animal poop, roll it into a ball, and push it into the sun so the heat can hatch the eggs. Amazing little creatures,” the professor said with a hint of irony and emphasis on the word sun.

  I tried to hand the amulet back to him. “No,” he said, waving my hand away. “I have no need for it. The amulet is thought to give its owner a long life--Hypatia had a very long existence. It’s also known as a protector of the heart. Please wear it and think of my wife and how she tried to save humanity. Take the briefcase too. The proof of their plan is in there--get it to the right vampires.”

  “I’ll take the briefcase, my friend, but the pendant is much too expensive a gift. Please, take it back,” I said.

  “No, I insist. There’s a legend that goes with the amulet. It must be in the possession of the noble woman who will save the world. I hate to put that burden on you but really, there is no one else to give it to. It looks like you’re the chosen one.”

  I was slightly confused but thanked the professor and slid the briefcase by my legs. I would keep the amulet--I needed something to protect my heart. I thought of my daughter. Would I find her only to lose her to the Illuminati’s horrible plans for the human race?

  “How long do we have before it starts?”

  “Not long, I’m afraid.” And he pointed to the sky. There they were, the ever-present jets laying down their toxic grids, turning the blue sky into a milky white mess.

  “I was hoping that the rumors they were fighting global warming were true,” I said. “You know, trying to block the sun’s rays with fake clouds.”

  “No, Hypatia knew the truth. They’re releasing a chemical stew that floats down on the unsuspecting public and weakens their immune systems. Then they’ll unleash an engineered viral pandemic. They have a sense of irony, you know, they’ll deliver more of the virus in a vaccine that people will clamor to get when they see the sickness spreading,”

  “Do you know how to stop them?”

  “No. Only their own kind can stop them.”

  “Shouldn’t we be warning people?”

  “The warnings are out there, on the internet. It’s the only thing they don’t control and it’s only a matter of time before they own that too. There are a few things people can do and one in particular.” He pointed to the sky. “Always look for the silver lining,” he said, laughing.

  Perhaps the death of his wife had driven him slightly mad.

  “Allow me to explain,” he said, ever the professor. “But first, tell me what you know about the methods people can use to kill vampires.”

  It was like being in college again. Too bad there wasn’t a blackboard available where I could list in chalk the many ways to kill a vampire. “There’s the old standby--stake them through the heart, preferably with a silver or wooden stake but anything will do, nothing can live without its heart.”

  “Yes, yes,” the professor said, nodding his head. “Go on.”

  I began to list the ways, counting on my fingers, thinking of the song, “Fifty Ways to Leave Your Lover” by Paul Simon. “Burn them; nothing survives cremation. Decapitation; nothing survives without its head. Expose them to sunlight.” I paused, thinking of Hypatia. “Shoot them with a silver bullet.” The same methods, except for sunlight, will work on werewolves but that fact wasn’t mentioned.

  “So, the situation is not completely hopeless and there’s one more way to kill a lot of them,” the professor said with a wry smile. “Poison their food supply.”

  Poison…people? Yep, he was crazy as a mad hatter.

  “Poison them with silver. I believe that’s what Claudius put in the Dom Per
ignon and how he poisoned Hypatia. Haven’t you ever wondered why silver is anathema to them?”

  Actually, I’ve thought about that a lot. Lance has scientists working on that very thing in a lab at Camelot. Silver will kill any virus. In fact, even the smallest amount of silver will kill any bacteria, virus, parasite, or fungi. Scientists at the lab theorize that the virus responsible for vampirism evolved over billions of years so as not to kill its host as many contagions do and instead, keep the host alive for a very long time. The lupus virus may be a mutation of the vampire virus, or vice-versa, scientists hypothesize. At any rate, the two contagions are so prevalent in the host’s body that silver will kill them both, virus and vampire or virus and werewolf. Vampires are more susceptible to silver, they can’t even touch it. Someone would have to shoot me with a silver bullet or impale me with the precious metal; its touch alone isn’t lethal to werewolves.

  “Silver was used for thousands of years as an antibiotic. Do you think it’s a coincidence that since the vampires’ rise we don’t hear much about it anymore? Why do you think the ancient Greeks lined their drinking goblets with silver? Why do you think silverware used to be made from real silver?”

  “Professor, I know, but…”

  “Have you ever heard of colloidal silver? You can still order it on the internet, you know. You drink it and your body becomes a silver mine, suffocating any vampire that feeds off it. It serves a two-fold purpose. It will also protect you from any vampire-made virus they unleash.”

  “I’ve also heard that it will turn your skin blue. Wouldn’t that be a dead give-away to the bloodsuckers?”

  “No, my dear. You only get the discoloration of skin, argyria, if you take too much. And you must be sure that what you take is from a pure source.”

  As if I could swallow it--that must be quite similar to being impaled with silver. However, it could save my daughter, if I find her in time. “So, that’s it? Tell as many people as possible to take colloidal silver?”

  The sun was setting and the crowds were beginning to gather for the Bellagio water fountain show. It’s a spectacular sight, one of my favorite things to see in Vegas. But when Vegas lights up at night, the city belongs to the bloodsuckers. It was obvious our discussion was over.

  He hugged me goodbye and whispered in my ear, “That’s it, look for the silver lining. Stock up on food and water. Don’t take any vaccines. Don’t get chipped. Be prepared to fight. Kill them during the day when they are vulnerable.”

  The professor held me tightly and then turned and walked away before I could tell him that I knew what must be done. The Illuminati must die. Every last one of them must be killed.

  Chapter 5: Taken by Evil

  The professor walked through the growing crowd of tourists as he headed towards Flamingo Road. The blazing sun had set and the weather had cooled off considerably. I began to follow in order to thank him again for the amulet and tell him of my plans to stop the slaughter. Besides, it occurred to me that I might need to speak to him in the future and wouldn’t know how to contact him.

  He keep looking back at the throng and walking faster. Did he see me? He had a panicked look in his eyes but it wasn’t directed at me. He was trying to run and having a hard time due to the mass of people milling about Las Vegas Boulevard.

  I quickened my pace. The water show was beginning and the crowd wasn’t moving, they were transfixed by the performance of vibrant liquid. The fountains shot dancing water towards the desert sky, sounding like cannons going off.

  She stood out of the throng like a shooting star against a pitch black sky. Poker Babe. Her red spiked hair moved through the mass of tourists like shark fins in the ocean, heading straight towards the professor. Two thugs were at her side, pushing people out of the way. I’d seen them earlier in the casino--the two beefy security guards who dragged off the intoxicated tourist.

  There was only one way to catch up with them. I took off my heels, balanced the briefcase in one hand, my purse in the other, and hopped up on the banister, using it as a tightrope to run through the horde.

  “Excuse me, sorry, let me through, please,” I said quickly to the people leaning on the banister, watching the water dance to the tune of “Viva Las Vegas” sung by Elvis Presley. “Watch out!” I yelled at a man who wouldn’t give up his spot, leaning on the banister. I had to jump to clear his head. People started applauding as if the maneuver were part of the show.

  I was almost there--close enough to see the growing desperation in the professor’s eyes. I concentrated on keeping my balance and moving quickly. I wasn’t swift enough. Poker Babe was already on the professor. She grabbed his shoulder and embedded her black nails so deeply into his shoulder blades that her hooks turned red with blood. She smiled at her catch, showing off spikey vampire fangs. The thugs with her shoved the professor into a black Escalade that was in the driveway. They took off, tires squealing, just as I jumped down into a circle of stunned tourists.

  “What the fuck?” screeched a white-haired woman, leaning on a cane. “Are you on drugs or something?” The elderly man with her shot me a look of anger. “Watch where you’re going!” he yelled.

  “Sorry,” I said in exasperation. They’re pissed at me but they don’t care about someone being dragged off by vampires? Was their perception of reality so off track that they couldn’t register a man being kidnapped?

  I ran into traffic, which surely is a leading cause of death in Vegas. A cab nearly hit me and the driver stopped to swear, uttering the same profanity as the old lady. It turned out to be a run of good luck and an opportunity. I jumped into the cab and yelled the cliché, “Follow that black Escalade!”

  I opened my purse and threw a bill at the driver. “Here’s a hundred. I’ll give you two more if you catch that car.”

  “Up’ta you,” said the cabbie.

  He must have gone straight from the poker table to work. People say that it’s a small world. I disagree, the world is quite large, it’s destiny that’s small. How could running into a fellow poker player at the exact time he was needed be anything other than fate?

  “Was that guy the vamps grabbed a friend of yours? They’re getting more blatant every night,” he said, shaking his head.

  “You saw that? You know about vampires?” Maybe more people than I thought were aware of the horrible truth.

  “Yea, and believe me, you don’t want to play poker with one of them. I’ll leave a table if I know a vampire is playing,” he said calmly.

  “That guy is a friend of mine and we’ve got to catch up to them before it’s too late,” I said looking up the street--the Escalade was still in view.

  “I’ll get you as close as possible,” Cabbie said, “but then you’re on your own. I don’t mess with vamps.”

  “It’s a deal,” I replied.

  He sped up, keeping the car in view as it cruised down Las Vegas Boulevard. The car swerved into the left lane and made a quick turn on Sahara.

  Cabbie hit the gas pedal and followed, like a hawk on a sparrow, narrowly missing a jaywalker. I careened across the seat, losing my grip on the briefcase. “Watch out!”

  “Don’t be a backseat driver--let me do my job,” he said, still calm.

  The Escalade was speeding through a yellow light. We weren’t going to make it unless Cabbie went through a red light. People were already starting to cross the street. “You have to stop,” I shouted.

  “We could lose them,” Cabbie warned.

  “Just stop!” I desperately wanted to save the professor but that would be impossible if someone was killed in a crash or we were stopped by police. How could I explain having fake identification, $6,000 in cash, and God knows what in the briefcase?

  The red light seemed to last forever. It wasn’t long, of course, but we could no longer see the Escalade. Cabbie made a valiant effort to find it, looking down every side street as he sped down South Rancho Drive. “I’ve got a feeling they went this way,” he said.

  The professor was
probably already dead. Vampires killed people each and every night for their blood, it was impossible to save them all, I reasoned. But this grab was different. Why capture someone in front of witnesses? Why would they risk exposure? They must want something from the professor and if they were looking for information, they would keep him alive for a while.

  Cabbie pulled over by Charleston, signaling that our search was over. “Sorry about your friend. You still gonna pay me?”

  I gave him three hundred dollars. “Where would you go if you were a vampire?”

  “You mean besides the tunnels that run under the city? The vamps have been here a long time so I doubt that they have a house in a subdivision like Mountain’s Edge. My guess would be an estate in old Vegas. Think about it--we don’t have an ocean here, there’s no beach property, so where would the rich live back in the day? By the strip, the “in” place to be then. Yep, they’d definitely be vintage Vegas--in an estate on an acre or more. You need privacy to do the shit they do.”

  “I still want to find my friend. Do you have any ideas where I should look?”

  “You’re a poker player. You should know when to fold’em. Leave the table lady, that’s my best advice. Get out of Vegas while the getting’s good. But that’s up’ta you,” he said, smiling.

  Leaving the safe haven of the cab, I watched him drive away. The desert wind had turned cool--Vegas nights would be refreshing if not for the danger lurking in the darkness. I put the briefcase down on the sidewalk, which seemed as hot as molten lava, burning my feet while phoning Lance. Waiting for him to pick up, my concentration was used to change thin human skin to the thick pads of a werewolf--it was as if nice, furry slippers were put on. My phone battery was low, giving me a good excuse to keep the conversation short.