Reign of the Vampires: The Society, #1

Chapter One

Mason blinked against the sun’s harsh light bouncing off bright white picket fences.  A typical Midwestern suburb . Only, the world hadn’t been typical in almost a decade. 

The smell of lingering death filled his nostrils. Silence permeated that side of the small town. Even with the virus mutated vamps at work, out in the real world, there should be someone in the area, some sign of inhabitants. Which meant something wasn’t right. 

His eye twitched as happy plastic animals stared at him from their manicured lawns making everything look so blissfully… Human. Problem was, there weren’t any free humans in the cities anymore. Now there were just the pure-blooded Vampires: the half breed and bitten vampyr: and the ashen skinned mutants known as vamps. 

As bad as being the world’s hottest commodity was, the humans in the van with him had no clue how much worse it could get— but Mason did. He knew all too well what it had been like when his kind had been around. 

He wanted to turn the rusty brown Volkswagen van around, drive right out of the neighborhood and on to the next city. But they didn’t have time. They’d been gone for almost a week. Sheila and Anita couldn’t wait to get back to the encampment. They missed their men and children. 

Mason, we’re wasting time, man. We should hit as many as we can, and then head for home, said Jax.

Mason gripped the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white. He sniffed the air again. The thick scent of pollution and decay rested in his nostrils like sludge. Something about this neighborhood made his skin itch. 

I don’t like this one, he finally said. It feels wrong. 

It feels like all the others. Jax sat forward between Whitey and Mason’s seats and peered out the front window. It feels like vamps.

No… There’s something else. It’s too quiet. We should keep moving.

They’re all quiet. There isn’t anyone home, Jax replied. Kiddie vamps are pretending to still be human at school. Mommy and daddy vamps are out working for the Vampires. We only have a couple of hours before they start coming home and the sun goes down, and we need to be way out of this city when that happens.

Come on, Mason, said Anita. We need supplies.

Mason swore under his breath and gave in to the pressure of the group. He nodded, and everyone grabbed their packs. With the van almost full, anything new they got would have to go under seats, on laps and in every open nook and cranny. It was dangerous coming into the cities— even the suburbs. Vampire Slavers hid everywhere, looking for human scavengers to snatch up and sell to the highest bidders.

The group piled out of the van. They couldn’t have been more evident to any vamp that spotted them if they’d been wear shirts saying, ‘I’m With Stupid.’ They looked human, smelled human, and moved human. Suppressing the humanness of people wasn’t easy. Luckily for him, he wasn’t human, but that didn’t change the amount of danger he subjected himself to by being with them. 

They spent the next hour moving house-to-house, breaking in, stealing the things they needed most, and slipping back out. When they regrouped at the end of the street, everyone had mostly filled their bags. A single house remained. It stood apart from the others, possibly the original house the rest of the neighborhood had been built around. The large, two-story New England style home boasted a wrap-around porch, broken blue shutters, and a faded cornflower colored front door. Mature willows and oak trees dotted the dead yard surrounded by strangled ancient rose bushes. 

Mason’s skin prickled. We skip this one.

Come on, Mason, it’s the last one. Jax stretched his ample arms above his head.

We go back now. Mason headed to the van.

Mason, we can’t, Sheila said. We barely found more than a pack of Band-Aids this time. We need aspirin, peroxide, sterile gauze at the very least. 

He stopped. Medical supplies of any kind were getting harder to come by. Vampires had almost done away with sickness since they’d taken over. Vamps rarely got sick, and if they did, they went to the local clinic, but going into a large city to get supplies was not an option. 

The remaining humans lived in squalor— just one price they paid to stay free from slavery. But doing so made the smallest of injuries almost devastating. A bottle of hydrogen peroxide could mean the difference between living and dying. 

Anita and Sheila stared at him. Opposites, dark, tall and slender Anita towered over shorter Sheila with pale blonde hair. Even so, the two were as close as sisters. 

Mason held up his hands. Okay. But if we don’t find any, we leave immediately, no arguments. Agreed? 

Agreed, the group said.

Mason shook his head and took another look at the old house. Wild and overgrown, the bushes formed a barrier between it and the other homes in the neighborhood. The gardener must have given up on holding them back years ago. At least it would give the group more cover.

Mason jogged around the side of the structure, snuck onto the porch, and peered into a grime and cobweb-covered window. He tried the door handle. Locked. Creeping on the squeaky wooden boards, he checked a second window, then a third. Years of grime and heat had glued them permanently shut, which might mean that it hadn’t already been ransacked for supplies.

He headed back to the door. It looked like it would be easier to kick open rather than try to open the rusty lock, but he couldn’t chance the noise. Something in his gut told him again that they should leave. He glanced over his shoulder at his small band, waiting at the edge of the porch. It’s just another house. Stop being paranoid.

He grasped the knob. Taking a deep breath, he concentrated on his inner beast. The monster stretched and yawned inside him. His temperature rose, and heat flowed out of his fingertips and into the round, aged brass. The knob seared and turn red. Mason gave it a quick jerk, and the lock inside gave way. The handle broke off, and the door swung inward. 

Silence emanated from the interior. Stepping into the kitchen, he waited another moment, then motioned for the group to enter. He laid the knob on the chipped Formica countertop and took in a deep breath of dust and mildew. 

The faded and tattered curtains clung to their rods. The kitchen had once been white, but the cabinets had aged to a dingy cream. Sad wallpaper the shade of overcooked egg yolk hung off the walls. And the black-and-white linoleum flooring looked like a professional hockey team had used it for skating practice. A table crumbled in the corner, surrounded by chairs with buckled legs from years of too much weight. 

Mason crept through the kitchen, scanned the room as he moved toward the front of the house. Dusty, old furniture from the sixties or seventies crumbled on the frayed and neglected shag carpet. Sepia-toned photos of a human family long-since dead sat on the mantel, engulfed in cobwebs. He headed into the front hall, through a cluttered den, down a smaller hallway, past a bathroom, and back into the kitchen.

All eyes awaited his command. He rubbed his hand through his shaggy auburn hair. They should be gone already. Dusk was almost upon them. He stopped and took a deep breath— then he smelled it. His head whipped toward the stairs. The smell of the undead. Vampires.

He hurdled out of the kitchen in an instant, pushing the women out with him. His long muscular legs took the porch steps in one stride. His huge, six foot six, two hundred and forty-pound body hurtled down to where the rest of the group stood.

Move. He passed them at top speed.

The group didn’t wait to find out what happened. Mason pounded down the front lawn and onto the street, his pack jangling on his back. Behind him came the sounds of shoes hitting the ground, and heavy breathing. He glanced over his shoulder, making sure everyone had made it out. Anita slowed, holding her side. Suddenly she lost her footing and fell with a small scream. Everyone stopped. 

Get ’em to the van, Jax. Mason ran to the splayed Anita. 

Sorry, Mason. Cramp, she gasped.

Mason didn’t reply, simply picked the female up as if she were no more than a child.

Standing, he looked up at the house they had run from. A window in the attic had a curtain pulled to aside revealing only darkness. He tried to remember if the curtain had been open when they had approached. Didn’t matter, he damn sure wasn’t going to stand around waiting to find out. Turning, he sprinted to the waiting van.

The further they drove, the more the tension in Mason’s gut eased. Running to the cities and raiding for supplies always set him on edge. 

They’d been traveling three hours before he stopped to let the group out to pee. He hadn’t been able to stop wracking his mind, trying to remember if the curtain in the attic had been open when they had approached the old house. He didn’t want to ask the group— no need to worry them. 

The group talked about what they’d been able to grab and being reunited with their loved ones. Mason didn’t join in their merriment. Instead, he did what he always did. He kept to himself. Better that he not become attached. His decades of solitude had taught him that. 

The darkening night sky loomed over them. He looked down at his watch. Half-past nine. They were still an hour from the meet-up point. Both groups had set an eleven p.m. deadline. If they missed the deadline, the other group would drive back to the settlement without them and pack everyone up and move to a new spot as a precaution.

We gotta move, he said.

The group stopped their chatter and piled into the van. Mason grabbed his driver’s door and swung it open. 

Whitey approached him. Do you want me to drive the last bit? 

Mason looked at the pale, skinny kid who played gopher back at camp. With no real education, Whitey did odd jobs and helped out where needed. A loner like Mason himself, he appreciated that Whitey didn’t talk too much. 

I’m fine.

You’ve driven the whole way. The least I can do is give you a break for a bit, Whitey offered. 

All right. Mason held the door open for Whitey and headed around the front of the van to the passenger’s side. He stooped his head and got into the van. Settling into his seat, he let himself relax for the first time since they’d left the camp. Whitey pulled the vehicle from the side of the road and continued toward the mountains. 

The banter from the backseats floated toward Mason and Whitey. For the most part, Mason didn’t mind the members of the raid group. The human refugees had taken him in when he was close to starvation several years before. To repay them for their kindness, he’d stayed to help protect them from the Vampire Slavers. 

They were almost like family. Almost.

Seventy minutes later, Whitey pulled off the main highway and onto a muddy road. Fresh tire tracks from the other van dug into the wet soil. Whitey drove through tall pine trees and up the mountainside for several miles. They still had over two hundred miles before they reached home base. The group had been using the remote campsite as a place to regroup and rest before returning to camp. 

A light flickered in the distance and grew stronger as they approached. Smoke rose high into the night from the fire the other group had built. Whitey pulled up next to the van already parked in the clearing and killed the engine. Mason’s group poured out of the vehicle, running to embrace their friends at the fire pit. He wondered for the millionth time what it would be like to have that kind of companionship. 

"You will find her, he heard his mother say. When you meet her, you’ll know. She’ll be the one who will set your heart free."

You coming? asked Whitey.

Mason shook his head and took a deep breath. Yeah. 

Stepping from his seat, the other group’s leader, Ike, approached Mason. A tough Marine, Ike ran his group with military precision. The two nodded to each other but didn’t shake.

How’d it go? Ike asked.

Like always. Never enough.

We’re low on food this trip, but got some decent medical supplies from an abandoned hospital. Run into any trouble? 

Nope. You?

Ike shook his head. Thought maybe there was a problem. Jax said you guys ran out of your area pretty quick.

Didn’t feel right, Mason lied. 

Ike nodded. There’s supper if you want some. Beans and weenies, and there’s enough for everyone to have their fill.

Thanks. They rationed food at camp. But the raiding teams were allowed a large meal on their way home as a thank you for putting themselves in harm’s way for everyone else. 

Come on, people, said Ike. Let’s eat and get some sleep. We need to be out of here when the sun hits in the morning.

Mason had been asleep several hours when Ike’s voice woke him. Mason’s eyes flew open. What’s wrong? 

Come with me. 

Mason threw back his sleeping bag in the dimming firelight. The entire group slept, except for Ike and Whitey, who stood guard. Ike made for the edge of the clearing with Whitey in tow. Mason pulled on his boots and followed the pair. The cold air chilled his unusually warm skin. Dew blanketed the ground, leaving everything damp. He stomped his feet and rubbed his arms as he made his way toward the vans. A trace of fear raced up his spine. It had to be serious for Ike to have awoken him.

Mason caught up to Ike and Whitey. What’s up?

I didn’t want to wake everyone, but I think we might have had a tail. Down by the road, a black car has gone back and forth four times, said Ike.

Show me.

That sense of uneasiness crept up Mason’s spine as a picture of the open window curtain flooded his memory. Ike and Whitey crept to a mountain edge that overlooked the road. The three men crawled over to a ledge that jutted out, giving them a clear view of the landscape below. The almost full moon allowed them to see clearly in the early morning hours. Lying on his belly, Mason scanned the winding road. 

They’d found the hiding spot three years ago, choosing it for its remote location. Miles off the main road in the hills, Vampires rarely traveled out that far for fear of getting caught in the sunlight. Mason’s heart sank as he spotted the black SUV that sat on the other side of the turnoff. The doors stood open, and several people talked below. Mason sniffed the air, but he couldn’t smell them yet. Three of them moved across the road to the turnoff. Mason watched one bend and point at tracks from the vans. The three people turned, talking to someone across the street. The person across the street said something, and then pulled out a cell phone.

We have to get out of here, Mason said.

How? Ike asked. That road is the only way in or out.

Then we go higher up, on foot.

We won’t make it. We⁠—

See that Vampire across the road, still by the SUV? Mason pointed. He’s on the phone right now, calling for a second and possibly a third vehicle. They’re Slavers, and they aren’t leaving without us. We have to move further up, and wait them out till the sun rises.

Ike stared at Mason, then down at the Vampires below. How did they find us?

Not relevant at this point. Mason crawled away from the edge and ran flat out for the campsite. We need to move.

Everyone up, Ike commanded. They shook everyone awake.

What’s wrong?

What’s going on?

Is it morning?

Ike took charge. Slavers are at the bottom of the hill.

In a frantic rush of movement, people pulled on their shoes and coats, and Mason stomped on the fire with his heavy boots. 

What do we do? asked Jax. 

We have to go further up on foot and try to wait them out, said Mason.

That’s crazy. We can’t go on foot.

No choice. Mason grabbed his coat and threw it over his arm.

Mason, you take Whitey, Anita, and Sheila and head north. Ike continued to break down the camp into groups, but Mason had already moved to the van to grab packs for everyone. It might be days before they could get back to the vans. And if they did, there was no telling whether there would be any supplies left. They needed provisions. 

Whitey caught up to him. What can I do?

Take these and give them to the girls. Mason shoved the packs into Whitey’s hands.

Mason sniffed the air; the slavers were close. Let’s move, he said to the women. Ike, Ike looked up from his pack. Move it. They’re close. 

Meet here tomorrow, if you last the night.

Mason nodded. 

Controlled chaos ensued as the group split up, running past abandoned sleeping bags.

This was his fault. 

His heavy boots pounded into the rocky packed earth of the mountainside. I have to keep them safe. Waves of anxiety flooded him. Memories of his childhood as a Vampire slave flashed into his mind. 

A scream rang out behind them as Mason hit the tree line on the opposite side of camp. He turned momentarily to make sure the girls were still with him. Keep up, he yelled. 

The damp, chilled air smelled of an impending rainstorm. Please let it stay dry till we hit a cave. 

It took everything he had to move away from the battle. His instinctual nature told him to turn around and go back. The cries of those still in the camp were like wine to his inner beast, which begged to be set free. 

Mason trudged onward, trees whipping by. Silence permeated the hillside. Predators had entered the animals’ domain, forcing them into the same hiding that Mason sought. 

He urged the group upward for a mile or more, but Whitey lagged behind.

We’ll stop in another mile, he told the group. 

Whitey nodded, breathing forcefully. 

The women held hands, whispering encouragement to each other. What happened to females put into the slave markets was no secret. Most women he’d met would rather die than be captured.

Twenty minutes later, Anita tripped and stumbled. Sheila stooped to help her up. The two women clung to each other.

Mason listened to the woods for a moment and then nodded. The three humans fell against the nearest trees, trying to catch their breath.

Do you think… we’re safe … Whitey scanned the area from behind thick spectacles.

There… is no… safe, replied Anita.

Take a small drink from your packs, said Mason. We have to keep moving.

Mason waited as the humans drank from their canteens. When Sheila handed her water to him, he refused. She would need it more than he would. Let’s go. We still have several miles to the top.

A twig snapped in the distance. Mason put his finger to his lips. The moon shone down on the hillside, so only the trees offered hiding places. But that wouldn’t keep them safe from the Vampires. Mason located a large tree with a hole in the bottom a few feet away. He pointed to it. The women crouched down and crawled into the hole. Whitey stood beside Mason as if to fight. Mason pushed him in the direction of the hole. Whitey shook his head. Mason shoved Whitey harder and pointed at the tree. Whitey wavered for a minute, then headed to where the women hid, but it wasn’t big enough for all of them. So, he lay in front of the tree and covered himself with leaves.

A rustle sounded closer than before. Mason turned in the direction of the sound, peering into the trees. Nothing moved— yet. 

Mason jumped and caught the lowest branch of a tree. He pulled himself up and crouched on the branch, waiting. Minutes passed before a tall, thin, shadowy figure emerged from around a rock about fifty yards away. As the figure got closer, he paused and sniffed the air. A wide grin spread across his cold, pale face.

Come out, come out, little piggies, the Vampire taunted.

Mason’s anger stirred at the sight of the Vampire. Heat flushed his cheeks as his blood boiled, and smoke wafted from where his palm lay flat against the trunk of the tree. Embers charred beneath his fingertips. He breathed deep. Swallowing the air in huge gulps, he tried quieting the beast inside. Calm down. When he opened his eyes, the Vampire lurked no more than ten feet away, sniffing the air. 

I smell your fear. Come out, and I will spare your lives, unlike those you left back in your camp. It is better to be a slave to kings than dust on the ground like they are.

The Vampire sniffed the air again. His brows furrowed and his gaze darted around the area. 

Just a little bit to the right. As if hearing Mason’s thoughts, the Vampire moved, opening his mouth to speak again. Mason leapt from his spot, knocking the Vampire to the ground. The Vampire rolled away and hopped to his feet. He bared his fangs at Mason, his eyes widening as Mason straightened to his full height. 

You will fetch a fortune at the slave auctions. The Vampire laughed.

Not in your lifetime, Mason replied.

We shall see. The Vampire’s eyes glittered with foul humor.

His adversary struck first, but Mason caught him mid-air with his left hand, lifting him off his feet. The shock on the Vampire’s face more than satisfied him. 

Mason hadn’t been this close to a Vampire in almost fifty years. Again, memories of his childhood as a slave bombarded him. The struggling Vampire clawed Mason’s biceps, his legs flailing, trying to make contact with Mason’s ample thighs. Mason’s hand tightened around the Vampire’s throat. The heat that’d been building inside poured out of his palm and into the Vampire.

The Vampire’s neck charred and blackened. Mason’s inner beast howled in triumph over the death he caused. A gunshot interrupted his thoughts, and pain burst through his gut. He staggered into the tree trunk as the Vampire fell to the ground gasping and choking, noxious smoke pouring from his open mouth. The Vampire’s left hand clutched the gaping wound at his throat while the other held a gun. 

Dark blood seeped into Mason’s brown T-shirt. He covered the wound, trying to staunch the flow. The injury wouldn’t kill him but would slow them down. 

The Vampire lay choking on his blood. His eyes locked with Mason’s. The Vampire staggered to his feet, and raised his gun again, aiming. 

Whitey popped up and reached into his backpack. Running at the Vampire, he plunged a large hunting knife deep into the Vampire’s throat. Blood spurted from the wound. The Vampire’s eyes widened, then he fell face first, hitting the ground without a sound.

Whitey sat down with a thump, staring in horror. 

We have to move. More will come. Mason sucked in a ragged breath.

The women crawled out of the tree and Mason pulled himself up, the burn from his wound paining him with every movement. He ripped off his shirt and tore it into strips, then tied the pieces tight around his midsection. It hurt like hell, but it helped. Blood soaked his white undershirt, but taking it off and chancing the humans seeing his chest and back wasn’t an option.

Mason pulled the gun from the dead Vampire’s hand and put it in his waistband. Then he yanked the knife from the Vampire’s throat and decapitated him. 

He wiped the large knife on his pants and then pushed the knife handle into Whitey’s trembling hand. Take it. You’ll need it again. 

Come on, Whitey. Anita put her hand on his shoulder. Whitey took a deep breath and nodded. The small group took off again, heading north and moving slower this time.

Sheila caught up to him a few minutes later. You need help, Mason.

Keep moving. If the bullet remained stuck inside when he healed, it would be a trick trying to remove it later. 

Let me look at it at least. I used to be a nurse before⁠—

Mason gave her a hard stare. I’ll be fine. 

Sheila stopped moving and shook her head. Well, don’t come to me when it gets infected, she called.

They’d been traveling for an hour when Mason paused to lean on a tree. The trees had begun to thin, and the moon shone down brighter around them. Whitey pulled out his water, handing it to Mason. Mason waved it off, but Whitey persisted.

You’re bleeding. You need this, Whitey said.

I’ll be fine.

How did you do that? Anita asked.

Do what? He pretended he didn’t understand her question. 

Burn that Vampire.

You must have seen it wrong. He let out a labored breath. He couldn’t afford to have them go around telling their people he had burned a Vampire with his bare hands. 

He prepared to move when he heard it. Several beings rushed through the trees. He turned to Whitey. You have to take them.

No. I… I… Can’t, Whitey stammered.

They can smell my blood. They’ll find me if I keep going with you. But my blood will cover your scents. That’s why I kept going this far. Keep moving for another hour, and they’ll give up because of the sunrise. Go to the top of the mountain. There should be caves in a few more miles. Build your fire in the back of the cave, but not too big. Huddle together for warmth if needed. I’ll meet up with you and Ike tomorrow.

We’re not leaving you, said Anita.

Go now, Mason urged. 

No, said Sheila. You’re part of our group. We’re stronger together. Besides, who would we be if we left you?

Survivors.

We aren’t leaving. Anita brandished her hunting knife. You wouldn’t leave us.

Do you have any idea what they do to human females? 

We’re not going. Deal with it. Sheila flashed out her knife.

Mason breathed deeply. He smelled three Slavers. The lingering scent of death surrounded them, and he wondered how many they killed from the camp.

Mason pointed. Into the trees. If it looks like I need help, help. Otherwise, stay put. He ripped the bandage from his stomach and stuck his fingers into the oozing wound. Staring at his hand, he located the beast within him and called it forth. His fingers lengthened and thinned as long, curved nails sprouted sharp as razors. Bracing himself on the tree trunk, Mason dug a claw into his side, probing for the bullet. Hooking it with his nail, slammed his lips together, and ripped it from his wound. Pressing his lips shut, he stifled a grunt. His skin darkened in the moonlight, and his facial bones began to shift. He steadied his breathing and concentrated on the sounds of the Vampires moving closer. Pushing the beast back, he willed it to sleep. 

His hand normalized, and his coloring paled. Precious blood flowed onto his palm from his wound. He let it pool there before he wiped it on the tree behind him. He dropped the bullet to the ground. Turning, he wiped more blood on the tree Sheila had been leaning on. 

He rushed from tree to tree, rubbing his bloodied hands on them. Hanging scraps of the soaked shirt on limbs, or threw them on the ground, Mason did anything to cover the scent of others in his group. He trudged higher up the hill. His side burned with each step even though it had already begun to heal. 

The Vampires approached from downwind. Mason stopped marking the trees and turned when they ran less than ten yards away. At least he’d lured them away from Whitey and the girls. 

Three pairs of cold, dead eyes stared at him.

You killed my brother, said one. Now I’m going to kill you, human.

Mason crouched into a fighting stance.

The Vampire took a step forward, but the female caught him by the arm.

Clive only pays if they’re alive, said a female.

I don’t care. The male jerked his arm away. He killed Jaren. The tall thin Vampire with crooked teeth returned his attention to Mason and stepped forward again.

Yvette is right, Marco. This one should fetch a good price at auction. Look at the size of him. 

And his scent, it’s enough to send me into a frenzy. Yvette took a step forward herself. He smells intoxicating. So much rich, warm blood.

Mason backed up a step. He couldn’t let them drink from him. If they drank from him, he would be unable to stop what would happen. The thought of using his powers crossed his mind. If he just used a little maybe— No. The humans in this world were screwed enough without his inner beast having his way with them. 

Yvette. The third Vampire yanked her arm. We tag him and take him in. That’s the job.

Pulling the gun out of his waistband, he shot Marco straight through the head. Then he threw himself at the other two Vampires. I don’t think so.

Chapter Two

Danika stared out the window and looked over downtown Chicago. For every building whose lights declared that their owners still worked there, a dozen more stood dark and empty and alone. Empty like her heart. Dark like her nightmares. And alone like her existence. 

She picked the nude-colored nail polish from her nails, watching it flick to the carpet. Taking in the faint scent of the lemon cleaner used to oil her desk, she searched for any ambient noise to draw her mind away from the task at hand, but there wasn’t any. Not in her private office, on the highest floor of her father’s Fortune five-hundred office building—her office building. Her father had specially designed the insulation to keeping other Vampire ears from overhearing private conversations. Not that they would. The only Vampires with offices on the top floor