Eternal Service Read online

  Matt stood the taller of the two, standing at a lengthy 6’ 5”. He wore Burlington store brand suits, not designer or even tailored fit ones. Overall, he always appeared clean and pressed, even if the quality seemed a bit off. Today he wore a single-breasted suit, light heather in color. The pink tie threw off the assemble but matched in an odd way. About 80% of the time, Matt acted as rock solid as any other agent. That is, when his sidekick, Brandon, didn’t pull him down some rabbit hole looking for a white rabbit, or more likely, a white alien rabbit.

  Alex gazed over at Brandon, who had still not noticed her enter the room. He kept himself busy by listening to his chest with a stethoscope. Man, she really didn’t want to ask about that one. Brandon was probably doing his best to confirm that an alien had probed him during lunch or something – which was not a conversation she wanted to listen to. When he turned to face her, Alex noticed that Brandon could take fashion lessons from Matt. Brandon’s black suit jacket didn’t match the dark navy blue pants, not even in the dim light of this office. Of course, who would notice such a horrid combination with the fluorescent green tie the man wore?

  “Hello, Captain,” Matt said while standing up. “Is there something we can help you with?”

  Alex noted that Brandon stopped the personal medical exam when Matt asked his question, and also stood. If she did get the promotion, these two would report indirectly to her. A scary thought indeed. But then again, she’d love to read Brandon’s personal file. He had to be an idiot savant, a member of Mensa, or at least suffer from Einstein Syndrome. He acted too quirky just to be an idiot. “Here, I brought you the files of the new kitchen hires. I need security checks done on all of them.”

  “Sure. We can get right to work, Captain,” Matt said with a smile.

  She observed Brandon give Matt a look. The glance was like he was checking to see if he should say something. Whether Matt agreed or not, Brandon blurted out, “Have you heard anything about a second security team?”

  “What do you mean by a second team?” she asked.

  Brandon took a deep breath. “For some time now, we have felt …”

  “You. You have felt,” Matt corrected.

  The correction was met with a stern glare from Brandon. “I have felt that there might be a secondary team who …”

  Alex had heard that Brandon could be a bit paranoid, but to see it up close was very off–putting. This little ditty smacked of the same paranoia that last week’s ‘lizard men live in our sewers’ did. She allowed Brandon to prattle on for a few minutes, but then had to stop him. “Riddle me this, Batman. What would be the point in having two teams do the same job? To waste taxpayer money? To ensure redundancy in case the first team proves to be incompetent?” she asked.

  “You’re in denial,” was his answer.

  Alex needed to get back to real work. She watched as Brandon reached for the folder she had placed on Matt’s desk; his face twinged as though in pain.

  “Captain, did I give you a security file yesterday regarding some broken glass found near the Beast?” Brandon asked before she could leave the room. Again his face cringed in pain.

  She turned to face the man. Taking a deep breath she said, “No. I don’t recall any such file. What glass near the President’s limo?” she asked¸ worried that leprechauns might be involved in this story.

  Brandon rubbed his temple. “I can’t find the file. Matt said I went to Dixon’s office and gave it to him, but I can’t remember.”

  Alex took a step closer into the room. “If there is a file missing …”

  Matt cut her off. “He gave the file to Dixon. I saw him walk the paperwork down to Dixon’s office. Everything is fine.” He tossed Brandon a bottle of Advil from his desk. “He’s been suffering from headaches lately. I think they’re affecting his memory.”

  “Probably a tumor from mind control,” Brandon said reaching for some water to down the pills. He took a sip, tilted back his head, and took the medicine. He then quickly added, “Oh, on an internal channel last night I overheard something.”

  “Internal to the White House?” Alex asked.

  Matt shook his head slightly, but Brandon continued. “Someone was playing World of Warcraft last night. I swear the noise sounded like it was coming from the Oval Office.”

  She studied Brandon for a moment before she left the office. There is a thin line from crazy to brilliant. She could guess which side of the line Brandon straddled.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Raymond and Sterling arrived at FBI headquarters to check on some domestic terrorist suspects. The federal government received hundreds of threats monthly endangering the lives of military and political leaders; they also received many bomb threats on historic buildings. Sterling usually came by the headquarters, but today’s threat was from a man on a case that Raymond had been working on. A case that was practically tied up with just this one loose end.

  Everything from the humans’ microwave lunches, the stale recirculated air in the building, to the blood coursing through the humans’ veins hit their nostrils the second the two vampires entered. This building belonged to the human team’s turf and Raymond knew Sterling hated coming here. It wasn’t that Sterling didn’t like humans; Raymond knew far too well that Sterling liked one of their genders considerably. He suspected Sterling’s hatred for the place was that he didn’t like smelling human food and spending time with the lowest of the low in the human gene pool. At least that was why Raymond avoided it. This building tended to have the worst scum imaginable.

  Using an alias, Sterling flashed his presidential badge at the security desk. He dressed in a suit and looked like any FBI or CIA operative in the place. Raymond knew his son hated wearing a suit and a tie. The material always felt itchy against his skin, and gloves always seemed odd with a suit. Sterling had no choice though; the gloves protected him from flashing on every object he touched thanks to his special ability.

  As they approached the security station, the guard requested that they sign their names and then walk past the security scanner.

  “Disable the metal detector,” Raymond compelled. The guard obeyed and turned off the unit. They passed through with his personal armory of weapons. No alarm sounded.

  It wasn’t long before a lieutenant named Gallendar came to collect them from the front desk. He led them towards the interrogation rooms. “We picked up a Mr. Raul Medina this morning for a substantial threat to the Pentagon. We also have two others, one of which may have been working with Medina.”

  “Medina was the mole we had. But he turned bad, just like the rest of them,” Raymond explained to his son in the vampire high-pitched voice that humans could not hear.

  “Let’s start with Medina,” Sterling suggested to the lieutenant.

  The door to the room opened. Sitting in the center of the room was a heavily tattooed man with bulging muscles and a sneer on his face. Actually, the word “Godfather” came to mind when Raymond looked at him. Across from Medina sat two CIA agents. “Leave,” Raymond commanded. The agents and Lt. Gallendar obeyed the simple command, closing the door behind them.

  As soon as the vampires entered the room, they knew they were dealing with a human. Vampires rarely got this far inside an interrogation room. They would never allow themselves to be held by humans and normally would compel their way out of any situation. Of course, it all depended on the suspect’s evil agenda.

  “Yo, you and I are going to talk,” Sterling said to the thug.

  “Fuck you, pretty boy!”

  “Now that’s not a nice way to greet someone,” Raymond said.

  Medina spit his reply.

  “Your attitude is only going to piss me off. Trust me; I can eat thugs like you for breakfast. I really can.” With his gloved hands, Sterling grabbed Medina’s head and forced him to stare into his eyes. “You are going to cooperate with me and these agents. Do you understand?”

  Medina’s skin paled and his eyes went dim. “I understand.”

 
; “You’ll answer every single question they ask of you.”

  “Answer questions.”

  Sterling removed his gloves and touched the man’s clothing. Next he compelled the man to remove any jewelry, and he began touching that as well. Finally, he touched the man’s skin. Raymond watched. He had seen his son in action many times, and was proud of how he used his ability – especially since Sterling’s skin would become itchy, and migraines usually formed because of it.

  Sterling sat back down and put on his gloves. “I got security codes, dates and names,” he said to his father in a matter–of–fact tone. He glanced back at Medina. Hell, Sterling had some time. “You’re also not going to leer at any female guards while you are in custody. You will treat them with respect.”

  Raymond rolled his eyes. Leave it to Sterling to be the champion of the damsels in distress.

  “No leering. Respect only,” Sterling said. “And I want to hear some ‘please’ and ‘thank yous’ from now on. Use your manners,”

  “Manners,” Medina meekly said.

  “You’ll volunteer information about prior crimes you committed to these agents,” Sterling said with a smile.

  “Crimes.”

  “And you’ll rat your buddies out on their crimes.” Sterling added.

  Raymond jumped in, “If any innocent lives are in jeopardy by you doing this, you will tell the guards immediately.”

  “Rat out buddies. Save innocent lives.”

  Sterling shrugged his shoulders in response to his father’s input. “That’s a good boy.” Sterling said to the thug, handing him a tissue. “Clean that up!” He pointed out where he had spat on the floor. Sterling then opened the door to let the two detectives in. Next Raymond, Sterling and Lt. Gallendar went to the next of the three rooms to have similar conversations with the other two men in custody.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Friday morning arrived quicker than expected. Raymond looked over at the alarm clock which would go off any minute now. He stretched to wake up his muscles, and then his phone chirped at him. He knew who the text came from.

  He partially sat up in bed and reached for the phone. Suddenly his palms became sweaty as he held it, and his heart began to race. The message was from exactly who he thought it would be, the Vampire Council. Last night, after he told Sulie about Dixon’s retirement, she begged Raymond to make a request to the Council to have Dixon turned. She need not have bothered with her plea; he planned to make the request on Dixon’s behalf anyway. Being turned is what the man wanted. Raymond held his breath as he opened the message.

  “No.”

  No other explanation was given. Nothing else but the one word.

  “Christ!” Raymond threw the phone back onto the nightstand. He lay in bed for a few minutes mad at the Council, but also rethinking in his mind how to break the news to Dixon.

  The alarm clock sounded and brought him out of his concentration. The answer was what it was; with nothing else to be done. He hit snooze on the alarm to give himself a few more minutes to think of anything else other than Dixon.

  He heard the house come alive with activity, even from his bedroom on the third floor. The snooze was hit two times before he finally rubbed his eyes, awakened, and decided to start the day. He looked at the wall across from his bed where a small portrait of his wife hung. He had commissioned an artist to paint it well after Wilma died, using Sterling’s adult face and Raymond’s description of his late wife as a guide. The result wasn’t an exact image, but reasonably close. When he first saw the completed artwork, he was disappointed the artist couldn’t quite capture Wilma’s true beauty on the canvas. Now, after all these years, the image on the wall was what Wilma looked like to him. He smiled at the portrait and murmured, “Good morning, Wilma.”

  With dread, Raymond removed himself from his bed and donned his robe to cover his nude body. Like all the occupants of the house, Raymond’s bedroom had a small refrigerator. He kept his morning breakfast of two syringes of blood chilled. Other than a couple of syringed meals, the fridge was empty.

  He placed his breakfast in a warm water bath. He loved the little device. Its main purpose was to warm cold baby bottles, but the device warmed up blood in syringes very quickly — and to the right temperature.

  He stretched to wake up and heard the timer on the warmer beep. He reached for his breakfast, and while still lying down in his king–sized bed, he slowly injected the contents of the first syringe into his arm. The warm sensation tingled as the blood traveled up his forearm. His eyes closed and he concentrated on the feeling of fresh blood once again running through his veins. His mouth slightly opened and his fangs extended. His heart raced and his body surged with energy.

  Raymond had fed himself this way for decades – ever since bagged blood became easy to transport and use in hospitals. The feeding was quick but felt nothing like the real thing. For Raymond, feeding off a fresh vein and feeling the flesh against his fangs was a foregone delight. He didn’t wish to be near a human woman, and definitely didn’t want to feed off a male of the species. The only human woman he wanted to feed from was dead. And even when he had had his wife at his side, he was too young to partake since his fangs hadn’t come in yet.

  He took the second of the two syringes and slowly injected it into the same arm where the first crimson delight had traveled. His heart rate sped up and his body renewed itself. Cells were regenerated. The few gray hairs he had turned back to their dark brunette color, the slight wrinkles around his eyes ironed themselves out, and his skin glowed with the healthiness of youth. Each drop was a taste from the fountain of youth. Raymond aged back from his mid thirties to his early twenties — nowhere near the 199 years he had actually lived.

  Raymond concentrated on the feeling of the blood. His body became replete and he felt alive and new. Now, blood lust set in. Sometimes he hated being a vampire.

  His body responded, yearning for a woman’s touch. Wilma died ages ago in childbirth and there was no other woman he craved. His length hardened and demanded attention. He wanted to ignore his arousal, but the blood lust insisted he satisfy his manly urges. Thirst overcame him as well and he felt his fangs extend. Now two of his body parts wanted a woman, and he was alone – all alone.

  More blood sat in the fridge, but he dare not indulge himself. More blood in his body would keep him sexed up all day. It would just add more fuel to the fire once the lust came to him. Christ. He didn’t need that. He licked his lips; his tongue brushing against his fangs. He had never partaken of Wilma’s blood during their brief year together since it was before he had transitioned into an adult vampire. He craved her touch, and now her blood. God. Drinking her blood and making love to her at the same time was a joy stolen from him long ago.

  The Vampire Council, with all of their antiquated laws, managed to do one thing right. Forbidding love between humans and vampires resonated soundly within him. The folly of it all. Humans were weak and frail. Of course, Wilma was an angel that touched his soul like no other woman had. How could he not fall in love with such a creature? The year he spent with her as her husband was the best year of his life. She had also given him a son as she died in his arms — a beautiful son who looked just like her. If he had only turned her before he impregnated her she’d still be with him. If only.

  He pushed the images of Wilma’s death aside and thought of her as she was in life. So warm, so giving, so sexy. Reclining on his bed, Raymond reached between his thighs and parted the robe down the sides of his hips. With the beautiful image of his wife in his head, he focused on nothing else but her. In his mind’s eye, he saw her naked on their marriage bed, her arms calling out to him. Touching himself, and remembering his cherished past, he made love to her.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Dixon had just poured himself a cup of coffee when a knock sounded at his office door. Opening the door, he noticed not only Raymond, but also Ben. “Good idea,” he said. “Ben can mellow the mood of the room.” Dixon stepped aside and al
lowed the two gentlemen into his office.

  Dixon closed the door briefly. “Captain Brennan is my top choice. On paper, the Captain walks on water. I need you to check on the immortal weird stuff. Ben, your ability to alter moods may prove handy.” He took hold of the door handle. “Go ahead and take a seat at the table. I’ll get the Captain. The mugs are for you and there’s a fresh pot in the corner.” He left closing the door behind him.

  Raymond nodded towards the table. “Leave the chair next to me empty for the captain to sit. This way if the thought patterns are hazy I can touch the man.” Hazy thought patterns. Sometimes a human gave off clear patterns, and others appeared hazy. Raymond never knew which it would be. In any case, touching would ensure a good reading.

  Ben filled the two mugs with the steaming coffee. It wasn’t so much the coffee the vampires were after, but the warming steam of its heat as the temperature permeated through the ceramic mugs to warm their hands. They liked feeling warm, and if humans mistook the transferred heat for body warmth, so be it. It was a win twofold.

  Raymond hated touching humans. Just absolutely hated it, and did it as little as possible. It thrilled him when the “knuckle touch” became popular, but of course at the White House it would be another frickin’ handshake. Raymond took the mug Ben offered and a tiny clank sounded as his wedding ring hit the porcelain. He switched the mug to his right hand and warmed it up. It would not take long to give his hand “body warmth.”

  The door of the office opened and Dixon stepped in, followed by the captain. Raymond and Ben stood up to meet the man. When Captain Alex Brennan walked in, she surprised them by being a woman.

  She walked into the office, and Raymond noticed her smile lit up the room. He sensed self accomplishment and pride radiating from her mental patterns and knew instantly that accepting this promotion pleased her. She wore her hair professionally up and the style revealed a supple, beautiful neck. Her hair was put back in a bun but tresses of wavy auburn hair on each side framed her ‘girl next door’ face. The few freckles she had on her face added to her appeal; they made her look fresh and innocent.