Blood of the City Page 4

  “Good evening,” he said. His Australian accent was thick, but it hid a British lilt, similar to Mack’s. “Long time, no see.”

  Mack stared at the man’s middle-aged face, his thick skin and furry chest. His thick worker’s fingers, hands and strong musculature almost glowed under the pale light. “Father?” he said under his breath.

  The man grinned and nodded. “I’ve missed you, my son.”

  Mack gaped in recognition. Memories of riding horses and sweating in the sun, herding cattle and peeling off worn leather clothing flooded back to him. The feel of the horse’s coat under his hand and the strength that was required to brush and clean them. He remembered stories of the distant ocean, the smell of fresh bread. He recalled his mother’s face and voice, and his father’s welcoming nature. He remembered how it had felt to have the sun on his back and red dirt under his fingernails every day of his life.

  All this took mere moments, after which Mack and his father were caught in an embrace, his father slapping him on the back, tears of excitement falling down their faces. Mack could have stayed that way forever, wrapped in the safety of his father’s arms, returned from oblivion. But curiosity got the better of him and he broke the hold.

  “You’re not dead,” Mack said.

  “Oh, I’m dead,” Allen said. “But my spirit lives on.”

  “But, we all thought Zoran… He said he killed you. He told us you were dead.”

  “He lied.”

  Waves lapped and boats tooted around them as they contemplated each other in silence. Mack folded his arms. “Where have you been?”

  Allen cast his gaze away. “Here and there. It’s a very long story.”

  “Why didn’t you come to get me?” Mack started to cry. “I was all alone after you left and mother was killed. Zoran kidnapped Jason and—”

  “Jason. He was with those vampires, wasn’t he?”

  Mack started. “Yes. He helped me when I was turned. Remember?”

  Allen nodded. “I remember a lot of unspeakable things occurring. I’d like to give him a piece of my mind, after what happened to our family. Good thing Zoran already took care of him.”

  Mack blushed.

  “What?”

  “Jason’s still around. Zoran turned him too. Must’ve been part of his plan, whatever that was.”

  Allen narrowed his eyes. “I suppose that means you’re still…fooling around together.”

  “Who cares if we are? You abandoned me. You could’ve come back anytime, and you didn’t.”

  Allen hung his head. “I know. But I’m here now.”

  “Yeah, you’re about a hundred years too late. Where have you been?”

  Allen sighed and peered around Mack to take in the brilliant city behind them. The harbor lights reflected in his eyes and a slight breeze tousled his hair. He ran his fingers through it and grinned at Mack, pulling him around by the shoulder so they could both gaze out at the sights beyond. “This is a beautiful city. You’re very lucky to live here.”

  “I’m very confused, and I want you to stop dodging the question.”

  Allen gestured at the twinkling suburbia on the northern side of the harbor and the spectacular Harbor Bridge that landed across the water in the brilliant industrial center of the city. Centrepoint Tower shot above all the others, a golden cherry on top of Sydney’s steel, concrete and glass cake. With a sidelong glance, Allen cocked his head and turned his examination to Mack. “All right.” He sat down on the rocks. Mack joined him, dangling his feet into the waves so the cool touch of water could splash against his shins. Allen took a deep breath before he began.

  “Do you think we have souls?” Allen reached over and placed his cold palm on Mack’s chest, running his fingers through the ridge between his pectorals. No heart beat beneath, and his father’s palm was cold to touch, but there was a sense of comfort to it that Mack had all but forgotten from his childhood. Even after a century apart and the strangest reunion Mack could imagine, somehow, it felt right to be sitting under the stars with him once more.

  “I think we do. Jo used to say that our bodies were dead but our souls lived on, like angels on earth.” Allen’s eyes misted over as he spoke. “She thought we were broken spirits, destined to wander forever.”

  “Who’s Jo?”

  Allen glanced at his son. “That night I was taken, when I was out looking for whatever was on the roof…”

  Mack nodded along in time with Allen’s story.

  “Zoran beat me up pretty badly. Broke my arms and legs and threw me into a cave on the plateau. He left me there for days. I survived by eating bugs, licking the walls around me for water and—I don’t know—the pain, I suppose. When Zoran returned for me, I think he was expecting to find me dead. To this day, I believe he was proud and that’s why he turned me, right away. My arms and legs healed, but he chained me up. Over the years, I grew stronger but could never escape his shackles. He would visit now and then, to bring me game, kangaroos, emus, the odd person, and I ate them all. I was starving between feedings, you understand.”

  “The cave up near our home?” Mack asked. “Why did I never see you there? Are you telling me the whole time we were that close to each other?”

  “No, not the whole time. A few years at best—early years when neither of us had our vampire wits about us whatsoever.”

  “Still, to think you were right there…” Mack said.

  “I was and I wasn’t. After a few years, I loosened the chains a little and I got out. I went running into the night, foolishly believing I was free,” Allen laughed without a shred of humor. “But it was just a game. Zoran stalked me through the bush in the night. He hid and tricked me and herded me like a dumb bull, right into his claws. He caught me and beat me, then picked me up and flew me out to the middle of nowhere in the desert. He dropped me there, and every bone in my body shattered. Then I never saw him again. I think he was bored of me.”

  “So you were free?”

  “We’re never free. I was still a slave to the night. I was lost in a new world after so many years. I couldn’t function in society, couldn’t keep a job, make friends or acquaintances. I was an anomaly in the world. So I retreated from it. I lived off the land, eating animals and hiding underground throughout the days.”

  “For how long?”

  Allen shook his head. “I’m not even certain myself. Decades? I almost lost my sense of myself, but one fated day, I met her. Joanna. She was hunting with comrades, and they ran in fear, but not her. She wasn’t afraid of me. I think she must have appealed to the real me at some level, for me not to have killed her straight away.”

  “Did you turn her?” Mack asked.

  “Hold your horses, son, and let me finish. No, I didn’t turn her. She didn’t ask and when I did, years later, she declined. But she agreed to marry me, vampire and all, and the two of us lived out our strange lives—well, at least hers. Her children came to be my children and her grandchildren alike. They all knew and accepted the supernatural side of me. I appreciated them for that.”

  Mack frowned. “You replaced us.”

  Allen put his hand on Mack’s knee. “No, my son. Not at all. I wanted to find you and our home, but I was afraid.”

  “Yeah, well, I was alone.”

  “So was I!” said Allen. “And I made mistakes. Huge mistakes that I wish to now correct.”

  “Why now?”

  Allen contemplated the black reflections over the harbor. “Jo passed away three weeks ago. Before she went, she made me swear to come find you. She said missing you was my one regret. That without atoning for my absence, I may never ascend.” Allen smiled. “Of course, I don’t think even she believed that stuff about ascending, but she was right about my regret. I’m deeply sorry I never came back for you, Mack. I want to be a part of your life again.”

  Mack stared back at the tree
s and the lightening sky between the branches “Sun’s coming up,” he said.

  Allen put a hand on Mack’s back.

  “You got somewhere to hide?” Mack asked.

  “I’m afraid not.”

  Mack dropped his head and sighed, the last of his brief life leaving his body. “I have a place here.”

  “On this island?”

  “Unless you’d rather go to the city. I have a place there as well. Although now’s not the best time.” Mack stood then helped Allen up. He led his father into the brush, passing grand eucalyptus trees, gnarled banksias and bottlebrush bushes heavy with red flowers. Tiny, white wildflower buds seemed to glimmer in the brightening dawn, awaiting the sun’s kiss to unfurl their miniature glory. Birds and possums rustled around them and the first birds started to warble through the trees. The two vampires were accompanied by a growing natural cacophony of wildlife as they made their way through the scrub. Ahead of them, a small clearing appeared, ground covered in long strips of bark and other tree detritus. Mack moved away from Allen and knelt close to the side of the open space. He dug a hand through the mulch and grabbed a brass ring. He pulled it up and a trapdoor creaked open beneath him. Dirt fell from the edges, bouncing along the corners of the hole beneath to rattle down the makeshift stone stairs that descended into darkness. Mack stood and gestured at the entrance. “After you,” he said.

  Allen raised an impressed eyebrow and walked down the stairs, his naked frame vanishing once he hit the bottom. Mack grabbed a handle on the underside of the door and pulled it halfway up. He descended the stairs, crouching to close and lock the door from the inside before following Allen to the bottom. The darkness within the hole was complete. Not a scrap of light came in from above or anywhere else.

  “How do you see in here?” Allen asked.

  “I’m usually alone when I stay here. But if I want to see for some reason, I just change into something that can see in the dark.”

  “Like a bat?”

  “Yeah. But bats use sonar, so I normally just become a cat or a dog. There is some light coming in. We just can’t see it.” Mack heard the familiar sounds of bones cracking and muscles changing and he knew Allen was changing into something nocturnal. “There’s really nothing to see. It’s just a hidey-hole.”

  Allen laughed. His voice was a little rougher than it had been. “A hidey-hole… But you’re right. There’s not much to it.”

  Mack nodded and sat down on one of the steps, feeling for the wall to lean on. “Yeah, well, like I said, it’s not built for guests.”

  “Sorry, son.” Allen’s gruffness conveyed a genuine sense of regret.

  Mack felt a furred hand stroke his. “What are you now?”

  “Sorry?” Allen asked.

  “When you came, you looked like a…like a giant cockatoo. Now you have fur.”

  “I was a giant cockatoo. Never really got on board with the idea of bats and cats and all that. Sorry if you did.”

  “Whenever I change, I become a monstrous version of whatever animal I’m trying to emulate. And my coloring is always dark. I’ve never seen a vampire become something with color.”

  Allen growled and laughed at the same time. “I’ve Jo to thank for that. She introduced me to a fellow who helped guide my spiritual path. It took a little practice, but I could show you sometime,” he said.

  Mack nodded. “That would be nice.” He reached out and hugged the furry man that his father had become and started to weep again. Allen’s hands on Mack’s back changed to paws. His weight shifted as he wrapped his new front legs around Mack’s chest and nuzzled his tears away. A great growling purr resounded from Allen’s throat through Mack’s body as he lay against the dirt steps, sobbing and clinging to the great cat he couldn’t even see.

  ****

  Mack stirred against a blanket of fur. He rubbed his eyes, but still had no visibility in the darkness. Shaking off the fugue of sleep, he remembered where he was and the person he was using as a blanket. He felt around a second, then took a deep breath and began to transform into a dingo. His arms and legs grew longer and deeply furred. His hindquarters grew a tail and his ears moved to the top of his head, but he maintained his basic human frame. His jaw lengthened into a small snout and his eyes shifted to allow for better night vision. In the growing illumination, he saw Allen in his new form.

  Allen was still humanoid. His body was covered in pale fur with white spots like a splotchy finger painting. His face was pointed and the pale markings along his eyes and nose made him look even more streamlined. His hands curled into dexterous paws and a long, thin tail draped over his thigh. His cock was hidden in a sheath of fur, as was Mack’s.

  The dugout was as Mack had described, devoid of furnishings and décor. It was as it was meant—a last resort, an escape. A private place. And now, reclining beside him, there was another vampire. A memory made form, his father returned from what Mack had been sure was death. And he was capable of incredible transformations Mack had never even dreamed possible. Mack wanted to share the news with Jason but the idea conjured images of Greg’s shattered body and Jason crushing the murderer under his paw. Sorrow threatened to overwhelm Mack but before it could take hold, Allen stirred and cracked open his black eyes to gaze at Mack.

  “You’ve changed,” Allen said.

  Mack shrugged.

  “You have a beautiful form. Dingo, right? But you can’t make your fur pale.”

  “I can only become animals that look like this.” Mack held out his front leg and turned it between them.

  Allen took Mack’s hand in his paws and stood before him. He stretched out and his tail whipped behind him. “You just haven’t had the opportunity for more. I can show you now. We have some time before dusk. Do you know what animal I am?”

  Mack shook his head.

  “An ocelot.”

  “Oh.” Mack couldn’t recall this animal’s shape or pattern in his mind.

  “Concentrate on your arm and try to change it to look like mine.” Allen held out his front leg.

  Mack mirrored his action. “I’ll try, but it won’t work.” He concentrated on both arms and on manifesting orange fur and white spots on his own arm. At first, nothing happened, bar a slight dimpling of his skin, but after a time, hair by hair, his form rippled from a single black to a dappled pattern similar to Allen’s. Mack gasped and drew his arm up to look at it. Each spot was perfect, each white hair surprising and glaring in the semidarkness. Mack grinned and looked at Allen. “I did it,” he said softly. “I did it.” He stared at the spots with joy.

  Allen peered up at the dark trapdoor, rimmed with faint light. “The sun has almost set.”

  Mack wriggled in place until he was curled beside Allen and closed his half-human eyes against the dimness of the cave. He kept his fur on for the faint comfort.

  “Will you return to the city tonight?” Allen asked. “You haven’t really explained why you’re out here in the first place.”

  “It’s a long story,” said Mack. “And one I don’t think you’re ready to hear.”

  Chapter Four

  Out of Control

  Jason let out a gut-curdling screech as he swooped over the sparkling city. Homes lit up in his wake, fearful of whatever it was that was crying out into the night. He circled again, flying over the harbor and northern suburbs, back past the bridge and through the west. He covered vast distances with the heavy flaps of his wings, carrying Greg’s body like an owl carries a dead mouse. Back, through the skyscrapers of the business district and over the park and churches, up the street lined with hookers and junkies to the roof of his home once more.

  On the street, a couple of police remained but the ambulance was gone and the rubbernecking crowd had dissipated. The gaping hole in the side of the building fraught him with new sorrow, but he glided to the top and eased Greg’s body onto the now-deserted roo
f.

  Fuel was empty but hidden from view as Jason used his massive beak to drag Greg’s body up above the elevator block to wait in relative peace for the dawn.

  His talons were stained with Greg’s blood, and his tears felt like they were cutting hot grooves down his feathers. His heart was pounding but whatever he did, nothing was making Greg’s heart start again. Greg’s body was a dead weight beside him. Greg’s eyes remained closed and his broken bones stayed unhealed. Everything that made him real was gone. Jason let out another cry and staggered to his transforming feet to sway in place, naked, bloody and alone. He choked back sobs and steadied himself with a hand on a white wall. His hand left a bloody print.

  The feel of Greg’s murderer’s chest breaking under his fist played across his mind in an endless, horrifying loop. As the memory repeated, Jason found his muscles clenching, his jaw tightening and his face contorting into various expressions of rage. He started to growl under his breath and gripped his hands into fists. He screamed and starting to pummel the wall. He slammed his fist against it, leaving a long crack in the rendered concrete that reached to the steel security door beside him. He screamed and punched again and again until his fists were bloodied masses and the wall was crumbling apart. Sated for the moment, he turned his attention to Greg’s body and cried anew.

  Wiping away the last of his burning tears, Jason noticed the sky lightening in the east. In panic, he knelt and gave Greg one last kiss. He stroked his lifeless cheek and ran his fingers through the bloody, matted hair before getting up to return to the relative safety of the wall. He grabbed the handle of the door and broke it, revealing a dark nook in which he could hide. He spared one last lingering look over the buildings, past the harbor and the heads to watch as the sun cracked over the horizon and flooded the world with orange. He squinted in pain then retreated. Before him, Greg’s body glowed in the morning light. As the orange brightened, Greg’s body started to smolder. Trails of smoke drifted up and around the roof, passing by Jason before the body burst into flame.