"Wait," the entity said, holding up his hand. "How did you regenerate? They left you for dead in the desert. We tortured one of theirs and learned that much before eliminating the captured - "
"Long story," Carlos scoffed. "Suffice to say, I feared failing the Vampire Council more than the sun. So I crawled my mauled ass into a cave as far as I could. Some carrion feeders came to eat from what they thought was dead meat - and lemme just say that all I needed was for one coyote to get within my reach. You dig?"
The messengers all nodded.
"There was a pack of them," Carlos went on, knowing the messengers were blocked to his mind unless he gave them permission to see certain images. Enjoying the game, he embellished the story to make it gruesome enough to pass their test. "Desert dogs, however, only gave me enough strength to repair the basics... but later, there was this quaint little Mexican town nearby... filled with innocents. Until I fed, I didn't even have telepathy or projection capability. Had to take them down one by one the old-fashioned way. It was regrettably messy, but effective."
He could feel palpable excitement run through the eerie foursome like an electric current. "Come, smell," he offered, knowing that the donated monk blood reeked of innocence and had no adrenaline trail to it. That alone would be enough to convince the messengers that he'd fed on a school yard of children.
The leader leaned in close to Carlos, its decaying scent stinging the insides of Carlos's nostrils. But the thing came away from him with no glowing orbs showing. It hissed, and released a sigh that was the things' version of ecstasy.
"Ohhh... yeeesss... the Vampire Council will be pleased with this transmission." The entity shuddered and opened its eyes, which had gone from red to dark green then red again as it spoke. "They are pleasured beyond your scope of understanding, as am I, your messenger, Master Rivera."
Another of the entities approached the lead messenger and touched its shoulder, sending a collective shudder through the group. "It is almost as good as when he had ripening Neteru in his nose. You must tell us of this town where the blood runs so pure."
Carlos nodded, not about to send a pack of vampires to descend upon a defenseless country town. "Later. Back to the point, so we don't piss off the council with delayed info."
The messengers all nodded, apparently aware of the extent of the Vampire Council's potential wrath.
"After I recovered," Carlos said, resuming his story, "I got back on point and tracked down the Neteru. She'll let me in - she thinks I saved her and her team's lives."
"Brilliant," the leader said. He cocked his head, as if listening to some inner voice, then said, "The Vampire Council has monitored and heard this conversation, and would like a word with you - personally."
"Oh, no," Carlos said fast, putting up both hands and walking backward. Maybe the blood scent thing was over the top. "I don't do the tunnels ever again in life - or death, you know what I'm saying. Been there, seen it, and don't ever want to do it again."
"While we can appreciate your trepidation, Mr. Rivera, the Vampire Council's word is final. That is why they sent four of us to escort you to their chambers."
This was mad-crazy bullshit. A meeting below would eat up precious night. He still had to feed, and had other things he wanted to do. All he was trying to accomplish was to keep council off his ass and at bay - not go downstairs for some corporate conversation. Shit! "I'm done with subterranean meetings, man."
The lead messenger conferred with the other hooded creatures behind it for a moment, and their eyes disappeared in their hoods. Carlos waited until their transmission was sent, and when their eyes opened again, he eagerly anticipated the determination.
Shaking its head no, the lead messenger pulled out a scythe. "The Vampire Council says the conditions on all levels above six are inconsequential and they will assure your safety through the realms on your descent to chambers."
"Inconsequential?" Carlos walked in a wide circle. "Tar pits, and black maggot-covered stagnant ponds, it even f**kin' rains maggots and whatnot on the levels above ours down there - plus it stinks like the worst garbage day you can imagine, and I need to establish a lair. I have been rehabbing for a full month, trying not to burn excess energy or draw poachers from other territories to me who might be following a female's trail to me, which means I was out there solo, without - "
"They understand your delicate master vampire sensibilities, and say that passage will be brief. On level four, the Amanthras are engaged in a civil war, as their supreme council has sent legions after the rogues that dared band with Fallon Nuit's vampires to form the Minion. That side of the equation guarantees our quick passage - and topside, we have hunted down and eliminated all of Nuit's remaining lair supporters. The Minion has been broken. Even our human consultants have eradicated his dens of human helpers."
"Can't it wait till tomorrow night, man? Can't you just let them know - "
The lead messenger shook his head slowly. "The Vampire Council will not wait, and they demand a word. It is done."
The messenger lowered his scythe to the ground and violated the earth - just as he had when Carlos had been first summoned. But this time, Carlos had no fear in his heart, nor did the phenomenal speed suck the air from his lungs as the earth opened, uprooting trees, forming a giant pit that pulled him down into the blackness. He changed into something more appropriate to wear while hurtling downward. Old World conservative.
He looked on with pure disinterest as the four messengers used their blades to hack at demon hands and tentacles that grabbed for their cargo, him. He might as well have been riding the subway, watching the dark columns go by, watching the freaks come out at night. But when he passed level five, a slight shudder ran through him. It was an erotic pull, not a frightening one. Hmmm... later. Level five was the black forest where the things that could only temporarily hold their human shape lived - were-demons. He returned his focus to the matter at hand. You didn't f**k around with the Vampire Council.
"You know the procedure," the lead messenger said, pointing down the long corridor of blackened stalactites and stalagmites when they landed in a swirl of charcoal smoke.
Carlos brushed the splinters of tree branches, tiny rocks, and earth from his tailored black suit, and willed his shirt white again, then smoothed his hair. They needed to figure out a much less dramatic way to roll, he noted, stepping over rotting bodies as he made his way toward the chamber.
This time the stinging smell of bat urine in the damp cavern didn't make him wretch, it was just mildly annoying - they also needed to do something about their messenger service. He heard the titter of laughter coming from the high, vermin-covered ceiling. Bats huddled and winked at him with red, glowing eyes, and treacherous fangs.
But one could never be quite ready for crossing the moat around the Vampire Council's chambers. Carlos looked down into the orange-red lava, the inferno of the bubbling pool created translucent heat waves just above its surface. He had to cover his ears to the shrieks and cries coming from the Sea of Perpetual Agony. Poor bastards, he thought to himself, as he crossed the narrow, slippery strip of rock-bridge. Coulda been him. Hell, if he didn't play his cards right, that would be him.
Using his energy as a magnet, he hurried across to the other side and stood before the huge, black marble doors that bore golden knockers with fangs. This time, though, he knew not to grab them. They would bite. Instead, he pounded on the massive double doors with his fist and waited for the left side to eerily creak open. Shit, they had his scent and could do the security check a little smoother.
There was no period of disorientation, and the denser air didn't make his lungs struggle to absorb it. He walked through the double doors, his shiny Bali slip-on loafers echoing against the black marble as he strode toward the pentagram-shaped table and bowed slightly in deference to the four-seated council members. He noted that there was still an empty, tall black throne positioned at one of the table's star points. Yet, the table still held power, its red blood veins flowing through the black marble and keeping each council member's gold goblet filled with the ruby power liquid. Blood.
Carlos assessed the elderly entities, who did not bother to waste illusion energy to make themselves look more appealing. Things seemed in order. The walls still bore torches in huge iron holders, black tallow dripped from the candles mounted in heavy iron floor candelabras. Above the table still swirled the screeching, black funnel cloud of smoke that carried messengers and served as his transport out of there. But this time, he could read what had been strange hieroglyphics that covered the room's arches, graced each throne, and surrounded the huge, fanged gold crest in the middle of the table. It was the history of each of the five original vampire lines on the five continents, with the history of the empire's founder in the center of the crest. Deep.