My Last Day
The barrio was lively, even at this time of the night. I could hear music blasted from wireless speakers on tables where people played cards, heard the laughter of kids sitting on the steps of their homes just on the street, playing on their phones. The elderly sat on benches, gossiping as always. I saw an old, grandmotherly woman, glance in my direction then nudge the woman next to her and point. It didn’t take long for our presence to be noticed. A man wearing an expensive suit in this part of the town and not showing fear stood out. But perhaps more than the suited man, I was the one that caught their eyes. I saw them looking at me, a woman in her late twenties, wearing tight black pants and a tank-top with a short vest over it. I was used to the looks, but soon enough their eyes moved from the more obvious targets of their gaze to notice the knife and gun holstered on my hips.
Then, they paused. I could almost see them think about it for a second and pay more attention. I knew that they would see the way that I walked, and realize that something was different with how my body moved. From there, it didn’t take long for them to recognize what I was. I saw the moment it dawned on the first person, who whispered something in a tone that carried. And then the streets emptied, people started walking back into their homes or nearby shops hurriedly. Ordinarily, seeing a man and a woman walking down the street wouldn’t cause such a reaction. But then again, they knew now who we were. Windows were closed, and shutters dropped. It was all familiar to me. People tended to stay out of the business of the cartels. Especially here, in the place that was considered neutral ground. I saw and heard them phoning their friends, warning them not to come around. I followed after the Cartel’s envoy, Pablo, keeping my eyes and ears open for any threats. I saw more deeply in the dark and heard better than any human could, after all, I was a vampire.
We reached the meeting place, a small abandoned warehouse at the edge of the block. They were waiting for us already, five of them, and an additional two in the other room whose heartbeat I could hear. Three of the ones in front of us were human, I could smell the sweat on them. Two wore combat gear, and held their hands on the butts of the holstered pistols on their hips. The third wore a suit, and was probably a big shot of some kind, I didn’t know him. I didn’t deal much with other Cartels. The two people in the other room were also human based on the rate of their heartbeats. The fourth in front of us had the scent of the forest and wild things, a wolf. The last one had no scent at all, which told me that he was a vampire, not like I could miss it anyway. He was tall and had pale skin, but it was his eyes that betrayed him. His pupil was cracked, and pale blue was leaking into his brown iris, sending spirals of it that painted his eyes in a chaotic spiderweb pattern. It was a mark of an Adult vampire. Suddenly, I felt a lot more unsure. I couldn’t match an Adult, I was still a Fledgling vampire, turned barely five years ago. He would be much stronger than I was.
This was not supposed to be a serious meeting, which was why I was sent. The envoy paused a moment after me, once he had a moment to take them in.
“Hernando,” he said, slowly. “I wasn’t aware that this was that kind of a meeting.”
“Pablo, Pablo,” the one dressed in a suit, Hernando, said as he shook his head. “We have a lot to talk about hermano.”
Pablo frowned, then glanced at me. I saw fear in his eyes, which in turn frightened me. Pablo was one of the Cartel’s best fixers. He talked us out of trouble more times than I could count. He dealt with issues with words and deals. It was why the Master sent him to deal with other Cartels. I wasn’t even supposed to be needed. If he was afraid, then we really had a problem.
I took a step to the side, making some room between us. Both the vampire and the wolf noticed. They smiled at me.
The man in the suit called out. “Bring her!”
The doors behind them opened, and a human walked in, dragging in a kid. Her hands were bound with a white rope, a gag placed in her mouth, her pink hair tie with a stitching of cartoon cat was loose, her black hair falling down the side of her face. She couldn’t be older than thirteen. I narrowed my eyes on the bruises on her face, her teary eyes. The man dropped her in front of us. I recognized her then, she was the daughter of one of the storekeepers in the barrio owned by the Cartel. I saw her often doing homework behind the desk at night, after school, when I came in to buy something.
“What is the meaning of this?” Pablo asked.
Hernando smiled. “You don’t clean up after yourself my friend. Remember the drop last week? Well one of our shifters found a scent. We were observed, you know the rules,” he said and pulled out his pistol, then offered it to Pablo.
I felt my heart sink. The girl started thrashing, her screams muffled by the rag in her mouth. The man’s grip was too strong, he drove her to the ground on her knees as Pablo took the pistol almost absent-mindedly. His eyes were wide, looking at the young girl. Pablo was a hard man, you had to be when you lived this life, but there were things that only the blackest of hearts were able to do without flinching.
“She is one of ours,” Pablo said, raising his head to look at Hernando. “She won’t speak.”
I tensed, the vampire and the wolf were watching me. Hernando shook his head. “That’s not how this works, you know that. You either shoot her, or we shoot you all.”
It was a power play, simple as that. They had been pushing into our territory, slowly trying to force us to give up ground. This was just another brutish attempt at costing us something. Immediately, my right hand started moving closer to my pistol and the other to my kabar on my left hip.
“Cálmate niña,” the vampire said, his tone low and even, freezing me in place. The wolf next to him growled.
“This isn’t necessary,” Pablo said slowly, taking a step back. “You have my word.”
“A word isn’t enough,” Hernando said with a mock sadness on his face.
“I’ve never broken trust, you know this,” Pablo added. “Give the girl to me and I’ll make sure that she disappears.”
Hernando tsked. “This is the issue with you people, you are too soft. Your Master doesn’t deserve his position,” he waved his hand, and faster than a blink of an eye, the vampire pulled his gun and fired. The girl’s blood splattered all over Pablo, a few stray drops hit me. I looked down at the girl, dead at our feet. I froze in shock.
“If you had paid more attention, secured the area, this wouldn’t have happened,” Hernando was speaking, but I barely heard him. All I saw was red blood spilling over the concrete. The thirst swelled inside of me, not at the sight and scent of blood, but rage. We were meant to be hunters, we stalked and killed after a good hunt. This was not a hunt. My sire taught me that we were the ones that were supposed to master our nature, that to kill indiscriminately was to fail. I knew that the cartel was not filled with good people, that my Master wasn’t a good person. But we at least had lines, we didn’t rule through fear. My sire was a good man, I thought, and he followed the Master. It was the only thing that I had ever known. They had killed someone under our rule.
I remembered the little girl asking me questions, smiling up at me. She had known what I was, and had talked to me anyway.
“Marianna,” a voice stabbed through my anger. I turned, looking at Pablo as he reached to touch my hand. “Calm down, let’s go, we need to get out of here.”
I pulled my emotions back, my rage and anger at what they had done, and nodded curtly at him. He was my superior, I followed him. Not that I could do much against them. I stepped to the side, turning around, when the vampire spoke.
“That’s it little bitch, run away to your Master now,” he mocked. “Time is up for your group.”
The wolf laughed.
Endeavor to never start anything. I heard the voice of my sire in my mind, one of his many lessons. But if you have to, if your hand is forced, or matters of honor demand it. Then end it quick, we do not play with our prey.
They killed a little girl. I snapped.
I moved as fast as I possibly could, a hand reaching down and pulling my knife out in a practiced and flawless motion. The other pulling out of my pistol. I stabbed, as fast and as precise as my sire taught me.
End it quick, his words echoed. And I knew that I had to, an Adult was stronger than me. My steel found flesh, but instead of stabbing into the neck it pushed through the shoulder. The vampire moved, but not fast enough to fully dodge. In the back of my mind I knew that was strange, but I didn’t have the time to think about it.
“The fuck!” I heard him whisper with wide eyes filled with bright blue cobwebs, one of his hands held my right one, twisting my gun away from his face, the other held my left, preventing the knife from sinking deeper. His gun clattered to the ground as he blocked my attacks.
I saw the confusion in his face, and I snarled at him, a wordless cry filled with my anger. It made him take a step back and I followed.
I heard shouting, heard guns sliding out of the holsters.
We are vampires, human concerns are not ours, my sire’s voice tempered my old human instincts. I didn’t move to avoid them as they took aim. Analyze, pick the shortest path between you and victory.
The humans were in the company of a wolf and a vampire, they wouldn’t be carrying silver. The wolf charged, I glanced in his direction and saw his eyes turn yellow, claws grow out of his fingertips. I relaxed my right hand which made the vampire’s grip push it toward me, with the extra room I twisted as my sire taught me and aimed my gun to the side.
I fired three bullets in the span of a second as the wolf got close, two in the chest, passing through him, the small caliber doing little to halt his momentum. The last one was meant for his head, he twisted and jumped to the side, the bullet lodged in his neck instead. He tumbled to the ground past me. It wouldn’t stop him for long. The humans fired, bullets ripped through my side and back, I twisted my head, presenting the smallest profile and ignored them.
I heaved and kicked the vampire, sending him flying back and forcing him to release his grip on me. As he flew, I turned and jumped on the wolf who grunted as bones cracked and shifted, as he tried to take his wolf form. Fur rippled through the skin in a wet display of skin tearing apart and thick hide growing from beneath the layer. My kabar came down on his neck, severing the spine and ending him before he could become a threat. I twisted and cut out, half decapitating him. Blood sprayed all over me, drenching me in his death.
Blood pumped through my veins, the thirst pulsed in my mind.
One of the humans looked at me and went white, then tried to run. I jumped on them, bullets hitting me and doing nothing to stop me. A cut to the side, and the knife passed through one’s throat, sending a spray of blood high in the air. I twisted evading the shots at my head, and fired my own gun at the other two. My aim was true, and bullets lodged in their chest and head each. As they fell I ran around them, faster than a human could follow, using them as cover to reach the third one. Him I kicked in the knee shattering it, then I rammed my knife through his temple. The one that tried to run had just reached the doors when I fired a bullet through his head. My ammo spent, I dropped the gun and whirled just in time to meet the vampire.
He swiped at me and I dodged to the side, not fast enough though. His nails ripped through my shirt and shredded my shoulder. He was livid, and he continued to attack. I dodged again, evading as much as I could. He was faster and stronger than me, I could tell, but… not as much as I had feared. I had never faced an Adult vampire before, but he wasn’t anywhere as strong as my sire. Not that that comparison was a fair one.
I saw an opening, then I lashed out with my kabar. He jumped to the side, evading, then snapped a swipe at my head. I jumped back, but he caught my hair, then wrenched me back. His other hand punched forward with his fingers extended. It stabbed into my stomach, burrowing deep. With a flick he threw me aside and I hit the ground rolling, blood flowing from my stomach. If I still had a human digestive system, I would’ve been in deep trouble. The bullet wounds had already closed, and I felt my stomach start to do the same. But the pain was the shock enough.
He started walking my way.
“Bitch,” he yelled my way, passing by the body of the girl. He grimaced at it, then kicked it aside. My rage boiled inside of me, the thirst consumed me. I pushed myself from the ground and ran at him snarling. I saw red, there was only him and me left in the world. My left hand, still gripped tightly around my knife moved with the precision of my sire’s teachings.
He blocked my first swipe with his forearm against mine, I kicked at his knee forcing him off balance. My other hand stabbed forward, an imitation of his attack against me. Off balance, he tried to block, but only managed to move my hand lower. Instead of his heart, I punched through just below his ribs. I lifted him up then moved to stab with my knife. He grabbed my attack by putting his palm in the way, letting the knife pierce it then grabbed hold of my fist in an iron grip. His other hand came down on my other, trying to pull it out of his stomach.
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With all the rage in my body, I pushed, bringing my knife closer, my fingers in his body grabbed onto the bone of a rib and held firm.
“No, no,” he whispered as my knife came closer to his head. “How?”
I didn’t know myself. I pushed, snarling in his face unable to talk for the anger.
He turned his head, tried to shy away, but my knife caught him. Slowly it slid into his eye, wide with disbelief, pushing deeper and deeper until it sank into his brain. I felt his body grow slack and my hands go free. In one smooth move I ripped my hand out of his body and caught his shoulder with one hand and his head with the other.
Then I twisted and pulled, roaring at the top of my lungs as I tore his head off, killing him. It snapped from his body and flew across the room, thick blood pooled up and then spilled out of his body like a thick sludge, there were no sprays of blood for a vampire.
I stood over his body, breathing deeply and quickly, trying to calm down as my wounds closed up and healed. It was at least a minute later when I calmed myself enough and looked around at the blood soaked room. That’s when I noticed Pablo. I rushed over and looked down, seeing the bullet wound in the middle of his forehead.
“Fuck,” I whispered to myself, then closed my eyes and sank to my knees.
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It searched across the vast universes beyond its own, Weaving the Source as it pleased, looking always for the answers, for something to help fulfill its purpose. It had been called many things: Last Intent, Horror of the Ages, Armageddon, God, The Great Mistake, The Grand Spell. Most of those were not even close to the truth. The name it was given on the day it was created was the Systematic Re-structure of Reality. Some had called it the System, the Structure, or just SROR for short. It was birthed as a spell, one made by a person that had touched godhood, whose knowledge and mastery far surpassed that of all others. The System’s purpose was long forgotten, lost with the deaths of all who knew its origin. None of those who now lived under its ever-watching eye knew the truth. But it never forgot. It still searched for the answers its creator sought, it was the meaning for its existence. It explored, both inward and beyond, seeking; always seeking that elusive answer.
Then, a burst of life, a new reality became known, another world that could be added to the equation. It sent its tendrils in, evaluating and discovering. It found a race, and a curiosity. This race had sub-races within its numbers, but no Source, no connection to the Weave, it was an anomaly. It evaluated, then it calculated. It knew that the Origin World had grown stale, that it had grown accustomed to order and peace. And order bred decline, it brought with it the waning of knowledge and greatness. The very things that were needed above all others. It decided that it was time for another Great Expansion.
The new world’s land and water would be welcome additions to the Origin World. Its animals and people would introduce new variables for it to study. The landmass, once put together, would rival the greatest of other continents, enough land both for the new arrivals and old denizens. And with this new race’s peculiarities, chaos was all but assured.
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My feet dragged across the cold floor as my arms were held firmly from both sides. I waited for a chance, then tried to wrench them free. My attempts were sluggish and weak, all that they earned me was a kick to the stomach. The drugs took care of any hope I had of escaping. They were human, which was infuriating. Without the drugs in my system, I could’ve ripped them apart in seconds.
My head lolled around, yet from the corner of my eyes I could see the myriad of paintings on the walls. The art portraying the great battles against the native peoples and the portraits of the important leaders in the cartel. Hidden down here beneath the ground. Things that were too sensitive to be seen by visitors. Their eyes looked down on me, judging silently. I had failed in my duty, and for that I was going to die. The blame for Pablo’s death laid at my feet, I should’ve listened to him. But the war? That wasn’t my fault, it was going to come one way or the other. They had to be able to see that.
My captors kicked me again, then taunted me.
“Mountain trash,” one of them said. “The Master should’ve never turned you. A waste of space.”
I raised my head and bared my fangs at him.
His taunt made me think of how I came to be here in the first place. My fate was sealed the moment I was sold to the cartel led by a vampire. There were laws against giving vamps things without government oversight, of course. But laws seldom applied to the places such as my home.
There had been no contracts written in blood, no ancient oaths spoken, or anything else of such nature. The whole affair was simple.
A pickup truck arrived at our humble home nestled in the mountains. The stars shone brightly, and the crickets filled the air with noise. Two men and a woman exited the truck. I knew that the woman was of the night, because she smiled at me and showed her teeth.
The woman dropped a fat envelope in my father’s weathered hands and took my tiny ones in her own. That was it, there were no words spoken, or promises exchanged. I think that I remember tears trailing down my father’s cheeks, his old and weary eyes red in the dim light of the porch light, a hollow look in his face that I had not seen before and that terrified me back then. I definitely remember my mother’s muffled sobs coming from within the house, questions from my siblings who I would never see again. Once, I might’ve blamed them, perhaps I still might, if they hadn’t had four other mouths to feed and no way of surviving past the new year. So, I was brought to a grand manor that had more rooms than all the houses of my village put together, and I was left with the servants.
I don’t know what my fate was supposed to be, what they had planned at the beginning of it all. What I do know is that it changed the night I gouged the eye out of a servant boy two years my elder. I was not sorry for it, he was a bully and he made fun of my hair.
From then on I was raised by the meanest and the toughest bastards around, humans, vampires, and shifters. And years later, I was sent to the United States, to be educated so that I could be of greater use to the cartel.
Many there didn’t understand how the cartels work these days. These were not just common criminals, but entire Empires in themselves. Those led by vampires even more so. All in the cartel had a place, all had a value, and the leaders were very good at knowing who should be invested in. You did not survive as a criminal organization for long if you were not farsighted, if you didn’t have smart people and the right connections.
When I returned from my schooling, it was with a degree in vampire philosophy and management. The United States made me forget this place where I came from. It made me forget the terrible people who owned me. I should’ve known better.
On my twenty third birthday, I was turned. I can still taste the blood of my sire spilling down my throat, thick and sweet, and so full of life, a promise of power. The first person I fed on was a one-eyed servant, I think that the master did it as some kind of a twisted joke. I didn’t get it then, nor do I get it now. But who can know the mind of someone who had lived for centuries. Since then, I served the cartel faithfully. I had done good, at least I thought.
Until I failed.
I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t afraid, the last couple of days since the fight had been such a blur that I barely remembered anything but fear and shame. But then again, I couldn’t say that I wasn’t at fault. I snapped out my head as they roughly pulled me up the stairs and into the mansion proper.
As they pulled me past the new paintings, one of them caught my attention, standing out among the others. It was the art depicting our master's arrival to South America, his great conquest over the natives, him standing triumphant over a mountain of the dead. I always felt like he was overcompensating or attempting to prove something.
He made himself look grand, as one of the great leaders of our kind, but often, I overheard him speaking ill of the vampires who made the decision to reveal themselves to the world, and their lack of decorum toward those whose opinion had not been asked.
I was thrown on the cold stone of the courtyard face first. It didn’t hurt me, it took a lot to harm a vampire, even one as young as I was. Before I had the chance to even try and get up, I was pulled up roughly and placed on my knees. Someone grabbed my hair and yanked my head back, forcing me to look ahead.
I saw the Vampire Master of the Lágrima Sangrienta Cartel, Pascual de Andagoya, standing there with a blank expression on his face.
“Me has fallado, Marianna,” you failed me, he told me. His voice deep and carrying, disgust seeping from his pale pupil-less blue eyes, the mark of his bloodline and age.
I didn’t look at him, instead my eye was drawn to the man standing one step behind him and to the side, wearing a black suit and a red tie. He was composed, as he always was, immaculate in his poise. From his hair that was pulled back into a topknot, to his neatly trimmed beard. He stood at attention not showing anything to the world. I met his gaze and for a split second, in his eyes, the color of emerald sea of infinite depth, I saw disappointment. That hurt more than anything I have ever felt, or could ever feel.
“Moushiwake gozaimasen,” I’m sorry, I whispered. Pablo was his day servant.
My sire, Akatsuki Jin’s, expression flared for a moment before turning impassive. He turned his eyes from me without giving anything away. It was what I deserved, but it still hurt to see him not able to bear the sight of me. I would miss our talks, especially about Japan before it sank beneath the waves, so long ago. Him teaching me how to properly prepare tea and serve it. His special blends that made even a vampire’s taste buds sing. The strokes of his paintbrush as he tried to teach me the arts.
Someone said something, but all I wanted was to plead my case, to force them to reconsider. I killed them, yes, I was at fault for Pablo’s death. But they had come to provoke us, they wanted the war, I just started it before they were able. I opened my mouth to speak and someone hit me across the face, strong enough to make my head turn and split the inside of my cheek—it could only be another vampire or a wolf.
“Silence,” I didn’t raise my head to see who it was, shame battled anger inside of my soul, and shame won. Someone pulled my hair back and forced me to look ahead again.
The Master waved his hand dismissively, there was movement behind me, then they lowered something over my head and placed it around my neck. The moment it touched me; my skin burned.
Silver, I knew it immediately. The agony of the silver rope tightening around my throat was beyond any pain I had ever felt. The only pain that could probably rival it was the touch of the sun. They pulled me back, the drugs in my system making me unable to garner enough strength to even attempt resisting. Panic rose inside of my chest as I heard the other end of the rope being thrown somewhere above me, then I heard someone catch it. They pulled; the silver rope ground against the stone of the balcony railing, and I was dragged up against the wall, left hanging with the noose around my neck. I kicked my legs around failing to find purchase against the smooth stone, I tried to pull at the rope around my neck, but all I accomplished was to burn my fingertips on the silver threads.
There were cheers around me, jubilant and mocking. These men and women that had once been my friends, a twisted kind of a family, they cheered at my execution. I thought back to the small stall my mother used to run, remembered helping her sell my father’s produce. I was happy back then, scribbling in my little coloring books. I was even happy when I was sent off to college. And now everything was going to end.
I could barely see; the pain was too much. It was torture, I knew it was, just as I knew they had to know that it would take me hours to die this way. They wanted me to suffer, I was to be made an example of. So, I hung there, burning and in agony. I lost track of time, could hear only them throwing insults my way.
Then, the cheering and insults turned to yells, to questions, I couldn’t tell what they were saying, the sizzling of my own flesh filled my ears. I managed to open my eyes, and through teary and bloody vision I saw people looking at… me? No, above me, at the sky. I could see… light on their faces.
Was the sun already this close? All vampires feared fire and the sun the most. It was said that to die under the sun’s gaze was to feel the full wrath of God.
Unbidden, a quote that I studied what seemed like an age ago, echoed in my thoughts.
They say that people who are near death die generally at the change to dawn or at the turn of the tide. Anyone who has when tired, and tied as it were to his post, experienced this change in the atmosphere can well believe it. All at once we heard the crow of the cock coming up with preternatural shrillness through the clear morning air.
Bram Stoker had published his work before the vampires revealed themselves during the Great War, and many argued even to this day whether he was in the know or not. Many things that he wrote were false, but many were also true.
At this moment, I feared that he knew something that I had not. That all the stories they told were right, and that judgment of God was on its way. The light was coming, stronger and brighter. The dawn, and with it death for any vampire. I flashed to thoughts of Khalil, my friend and sometimes more from years ago. He was a believer, funny that I would learn the truth before him. I wondered if his God would offer me mercy now?
I pulled again at the rope, kicked with my feet, all with purpose now. The fear of judgment gave me strength. I tried to hasten the process, to kill myself before the sun could reach me. Suicide was a sin according to Khalil’s God, but at the moment eternal torment in Hell felt more appealing than the touch of the Sun. The silver rope tore at my flesh, the stench filled my nostrils, the agony consumed me. I felt myself growing weak, dying.
I was not fast enough.
The Light swallowed me whole.
I felt my body grow and contract all in the same moment, a sensation unlike anything that I had ever felt before washed over me. Then I was falling.
I fell to the ground after what felt like an eternity, my neck burning still. I… I was still here, still alive. I reached up and found no rope, but the damage had been done. My vision doubled, the agony spread through all of my nerves. The thirst wailed inside of my veins. I tried to look around me and saw only gray mist surrounding me. Something caught my eye, hanging in the air above me. Immediately, I decided that it was a hallucination brought on by the pain. Maybe I had already died, and this was some twisted version of Hell. Either way, I was spent. I closed my eyes ignoring the words floating in the air, speaking of silly things, and falling into unconsciousness or death.
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The System was not truly sentient in the broad sense, but it was intelligent. As it encountered the new world, the ever-evolving spell calculated, and then picked thirty members of the new race, as it had done several times before in ages past. With a Weave of the Source, it pulled the thirty from their world and into the transition realm. It presented them with choices, already building archives on them, to accelerate the new arrivals' integration. Thirty, as representatives of their race, so that it could understand them, before sending them back to their lands. Or perhaps they would die, and that too would teach it things. It started learning about the new race and building a profile for their Masks, devising new and unique types.
As a small and automated part of it dealt with the transition of the thirty souls, its main intellect turned its attention to the new world and washed it with Source, then started taking it apart. Putting the pieces back together as suited it, introducing changes and planning the expansion of the Origin World.
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Welcome! This is the Transitional Realm to the World of Origin.
Please, pick a destination for your trial. You have 10 minutes to decide.
1. Continent of Elvaros
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