Revenants Abroad

Revenants Abroad

  Copyright 2014 D. D. Syrdal

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  About D. D. Syrdal

  Chapter 1

  Brown eyes. Damn. Three hundred years, and he still preferred blue eyes. Well, some things you can’t change. The girl had sidled up to the bar and stood next to Andrej, waiting for him to acknowledge her. If she only knew why she was attracted to him, he thought, smiling inwardly. He lit a cigarette and took a deep drag on it, pretending not to notice her. Another man at the bar ogled her, nearly salivating at the sight of the voluptuous brunette. Andrej blew the cigarette smoke out above her head, looking her over, taking his time. That was the only fun part of it for him anymore, seeing how long he could drag out the seduction, anticipation building in him for that final moment when he’d sink his teeth into that soft skin, and feel the warm rush of life filling his mouth. He’d become so good at prolonging this form of foreplay he had once stretched it out for a week. He wasn’t willing to wait a week this time; he was hungry. He paid his bar tab and slid off the stool, taking the girl’s hand and headed out, back to his apartment.

  The next morning before the woman left Andrej made sure she remembered it as a night of passionate, exhausting sex, nothing more. Anne-Marie came out of the kitchen at the sound of the door closing.

  “Did you even bother to ask her name?”

  In his favorite black jeans but shirtless as usual, Andrej flopped down on the sofa and lit a cigarette.

  “What for?” He leaned back and looked at Anne-Marie through half-closed eyes, unable to resist an opportunity to needle her.

  “Oh, I don’t know, I figured at some point there’d have to be some conversation.”

  “You know I don’t like a lot of idle chit-chat.”

  “Boy, do I.”

  Anne-Marie was turning out to be the best assistant he’d had in a long time. It was hard to live nocturnally in a world where most business was transacted during daylight. At least the legal business. Anne-Marie was pretty; not beautiful in the conventional sense, but she was smart, and therefore useful. And she knew when to shut the hell up. Now there was an art most people never mastered, he thought.

  “But you did your usual mind tricks and blotted out her memory?”

  “Of course. Can’t have them walking around making reports of blood-sucking fiends. Sometimes I really miss the old days when investigations could be botched by incompetent detectives." Forensics in the twenty-third century had come a long way. Even with his abilities to obscure his tracks, if someone wanted to connect the dots they could connect them all the way back to him.

  As if that wasn't thin enough ice for a vampire to skate on, Andrej had taken up posing as a runner for drug dealers as a way to distract himself and for some extra excitement. Perhaps he’d missed his calling, he mused, and should have gone onto the stage. It was no longer a challenge to convince people he was who he claimed to be and the acting was second nature. But these types of jobs where people often got shot or simply disappeared weren’t nearly as exciting as they once had been.

  “I wish you’d quit taking these jobs.”

  “Why? It’s just for fun.”

  “Can’t you take up knitting or something?”

  “Tried that. Too dangerous. Those pointy needles can kill you.”

  “I just don’t like these guys you’re dealing with. The Shine they’re selling is bad stuff.”

  “Looks who’s talking. You took the stuff.”

  “Yeah, and look what happened.”

  “Exactly what you wanted, you got the blackest hair I’ve ever seen. Besides, it looks good on you.”

  “That is not the point.”

  “Okay, Mom.”

  “Shut up.”

  His latest gig was peddling a drug known as Shine. It had started out in the genetic engineering labs, developed as the ultimate designer drug for people to select what they wanted their offspring to look like. But as research so often is, it was quickly twisted into something the military wanted, and the underbelly of society used to get high. The DNA-altering compound could change someone’s hair color, but also occasionally caused them to phosphoresce for forty-eight hours afterwards. The club kids who in previous centuries were known as punks and goths used it to try to alter their hair to be permanently black, and sometimes they succeeded. Anne-Marie had been one of the lucky ones, and now her hair was a deep raven black, so black it looked blue in certain light. The problem with Shine was the user never knew how it would react with their physiology. DNA was tricky stuff to manipulate, and hospitals were designating entire wards to the ones who ended up melting their skin from the phosphorescence. Which of course was not Andrej’s problem.

  As his communer buzzed he languidly picked up the handset, listened for a few seconds, then spoke a few words in rapid Italian. He put the communer down and stubbed out the cigarette.

  “When’s the drop?” Anne-Marie asked.

  “Late tonight. I’m going to get some rest; wake me around eleven-thirty.” He walked over to the bookcase and took down a volume that Anne-Marie recognized as a collection of poems by John Keats and wandered off to his private room. She’d never been in there. As tempted as she was, she hadn’t dared sneak in for a peek while Andrej was out knowing he’d be able to smell her scent in there even hours later.

  Andrej's sanctuary was painted black with no windows. It was sound-proofed, light-proofed, virtual sensory deprivation, and it afforded Andrej the only rest he was able to get anymore. He maintained a standard bedroom for entertaining his victims. They always tasted so much better without too much adrenaline flowing, so it was best to have them relaxed and willing. It was another game he played instead of simply hypnotizing them until the crucial moment. At the last second he always put them under. Their memories of the evening were then a matter of planting thoughts, like a post-hypnotic suggestion. The less damage control he had to do, the better.

  When the intercom buzzed promptly at eleven-thirty, he took a deep breath, then pushed himself up. As he came back to full consciousness, he felt strangely anxious. He seemed to have picked up Anne-Marie’s sense of unease about the job which irritated him. He dressed in his ancient black leather coat—a relic of his human days—a thick turtleneck sweater that made him look more muscular than he was, black pants, and finished by tucking a pack of cigarettes in his back pocket. Perhaps the leather was a little too European for this section of New York, but it was his favorite and he was going to wear it anyway. Damned Americans still didn’t know how to dress. He ran a comb through his shoulder-length hair out of habit more than a
nything, then walked out into the light of the living room.

  Anne-Marie sat nestled in her favorite chair, an antique covered in soft brown leather and stuffed with horsehair. She held a glass of wine in one hand and pointed to the table with her free hand.

  “There’s the box,” she said, and after a pause added, “I wish you weren’t going tonight.”

  “This isn’t like you to worry so. What’s bothering you?”

  “I don’t know. Something just doesn’t feel right.”

  He sat on the edge of the table in front of her. “It’ll be fine. It’s a quick drop. You know I only play these games on my own terms. Besides, the money’s good.”

  She narrowed her eyes in annoyance. “Go on then, have your fun.”

  “Thanks. Don’t wait up for me.” He grinned, picked up the box and gave her a wink. Just as he was about to walk out the door he turned and said, “Make sure you lock up behind me.”

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Nothing, just seemed like the thing to say.”

  “Sure, don’t tell me.”

  In the two years she had now been with him he had never cautioned her like that before. Ironically, life with a vampire was the most secure she’d ever been. The low-level thugs he typically dealt with couldn’t harm him and, by extension, her. Andrej hoped he’d appeared unconcerned but something about these people set his teeth on edge. He would be glad to get this over and be done with them. They were ruining all the fun.

  He walked out and closed the door behind him. When he was sure she had locked up tight he took the elevator down to the first floor. Exiting the building into a mix of rain and snow he frowned at the sky, but didn’t bother to turn up his collar against the damp chill since he couldn’t actually feel it. He dressed for the elements to avoid attracting undue attention. The dark wet streets were full of the usual comings and goings: a mix of the well-heeled and down-at-heel passing each other, threading their way up and down the neon-lit sidewalks. Cabs whirred past, occasionally splashing up water from puddles onto those who walked too close to the curb. Andrej made his way down the street, catching bits of conversations as he went. One couple stood arguing bitterly on the sidewalk.

  “I don’t care if you jump off the Brooklyn Bridge, you’re not coming back again. I’ve had it with you lying to me.”

  “I wouldn’t have to lie if you’d quit accusing me of shit I didn’t do.”

  “Like hell you didn’t. I found her underwear in my dresser.”

  He turned up his collar as if to shield himself and picked up his pace. His extraordinary hearing was one part of himself that he wished he could regulate better. It came in handy at times, but it also meant having to listen to things he preferred to avoid. Arguments about petty things—jealousy, suspicions, accusations—were things he had long since ceased to have any patience for, if he had ever had any stomach for it. He couldn’t remember anymore.

  He turned down the alley behind the club with the box of Shine secreted inside a hidden pocket in the liner of his coat. Just past the back door to the club he opened the lid of the trash can underneath the security light and saw the can was empty. They were late. Irritated, he was just about to put the lid back when he felt someone come up behind him. He heard the click of a rifle, then the tell-tale hum as it powered to life. He waited, not moving.

  “Where’s the package?” a voice behind him said.

  “Where’s my money?” Andrej answered.

  “There’s been a change of plans.”

  Andrej moved to turn around, but the man called out, “Don’t. Don’t move. Let’s keep this simple. You just put the package down and walk away, and we don’t need to let things get out of hand, ok?”

  Andrej chuckled. This buffoon had no idea what he was getting himself into. He stood motionless, not answering. He knew the other guy was getting nervous, waiting to see what he would do. Sometimes he just couldn’t help playing with his food.

  He started to turn around as the man repeated louder, “I said don’t move. I know what you are. I’ll kill you if you try to turn around.”

  He turned anyway. The man fired a high powered burst at him, knocking him to the ground but otherwise not injuring him. If he had been human, it would have burned a hole straight through his torso at such close range. He stood up uninjured and the man’s mouth fell open. Andrej strode toward him while the guy was too stunned to react, grabbed the rifle out of his hands, spun it around and rammed the butt of it into the side of his head. The man went down, unconscious.

  “Punk,” he said, tossing the rifle aside and straightening his coat. He went through the man’s coat and found the money inside, pocketed it, then pulled the box of Shine out of his own coat and dropped it on him. At least he had brought the money which meant the dealer wasn’t responsible for this. This had to be some novice thug trying to make a name for himself. The only thing that bothered Andrej was what he’d said about knowing what he was. Was it possible someone had figured it out? Why tell this runner? That was a problem then. He picked him up by the collar, and the man’s head lolled back, leaving his neck open and exposed. Andrej was just about to bite in and at least have a snack for his trouble when he decided this piece of shit probably tasted worse than a dead cow; he certainly smelled worse. He dropped him back to the ground in disgust. Anyone who saw him lying there would think it was just a wino passed out in the alley and keep walking. Besides, no need to confirm what they claimed to know about him.

  It was less than an hour since he had left, but when he arrived back at the penthouse he found the front door open. More than just open; the lock had been melted. It was a showy, reckless display, meant to let him know whoever had done it was powerful enough not to worry about operating openly. He eased into the room, listening. With his acute hearing, he should have been able to hear a human heartbeat, but there was nothing. Anne-Marie was gone. They would be contacting him, he reasoned, with some kind of demands in exchange for Anne-Marie. If they truly knew he was a vampire as the courier had said, then they should also know what he was capable of. They were taking a terrible risk by doing this.

  Within minutes his communer lit up with an incoming call. “I just know you haven’t hurt my assistant,” he said into the blank screen. There was no video, just audio. Didn’t matter. He’d have them pinpointed before the end of the call.

  “She’s just fine, for now,” a voice said. “Looks like you got a little rough with my man.”

  “Your messenger has very bad manners. Opening fire on me isn’t the way to my heart.”

  “If you had a heart,” the voice said.

  “You wound me. What makes you think I don’t?”

  “We’ve been watching you.”

  “And?”

  “And we know who and what you are, Mr. Vojacek.”

  “That so?” He almost had him. Even if they had somehow discovered what he was, there was bound to be some doubt in their minds. Humans were never entirely certain of anything. As he listened to him talk he mentally followed the voice through the air, tracking the nervous vibration back to its source. It was a skill he had developed as the years went by, and he found it oh so handy.

  “Let me talk to Anne-Marie,” Andrej said.

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that. But I should tell you that if anything happens to me, she dies.”

  “Tsk, tsk, that didn’t take long. You might want to rethink that idea.” The anxiety level of the man at the other end was rising, almost palpable. He was close by, on the same street. Amateurs, he thought. He closed the communer abruptly, slid it back into his pocket, and headed down to the street. When he reached the sidewalk the snow and drizzle had almost stopped and the sky was starting to clear. He walked briskly in the direction from which the call had come. It took only minutes to find the building the call had originated in, and where he expected to find Anne-Marie. It was squat, square old warehouse that had been converted to apartments about a hundred years ago. He
stood outside, eyes closed, listening for Anne-Marie’s heartbeat, trying to pick it out of the scores of others in the building. There, he had her. She was scared, her pulse was racing. He entered the building and dissolved into a wisp of smoke, enabling him to move rapidly and unseen down the hall to the apartment where he sensed Anne-Marie. If these goons did know what he was, then by now they would have realized he was no longer in his penthouse, which meant he needed to get to her before they could harm her. As he reached the door to the apartment she was in, he reassumed his corporeal form. He listened for any other heartbeats in the apartment but there was nothing. That wasn’t good. It was likely there were booby-traps. He tried reading her mind to see if she knew what sort of traps they had set for him, but without success. She was blind-folded, unable to see what they had done. Without knowing if the trap was set to hurt him or kill her, he hesitated. He put his hand to the bottom of the door and felt cold air coming out as if a window had been left open. That was probably how they expected him to go in, not through the door. Good. Again he dissolved into the smoke plume and slid under the door.

  He remained incorporeal long enough to discern that Anne-Marie was tied to a chair in the middle of a dark empty room. The little light there was in the room came from streetlights below. He resumed his physical form next to Anne-Marie and whispered, “I’m here.”

  She gasped, turning her head in the direction of his voice. “Andrej?”

  “Yes. Don’t move, I don’t know yet what they’ve set up in here. I don’t think it’s designed to hurt me, so it must be somehow aimed at you.” He looked around, calculating. “How tightly are you tied?”

  “I can’t move.”

  He considered this. No doubt there were motion detectors trained on her. He took her blindfold off but left the ropes holding her in place. “Ok, don’t try. Did they ask you about me? Did they say anything to give away who they are, what they want?” He wanted to keep up a stream of chatter to distract her, occupy her mind with something to try to calm her.

  “They asked me a lot of questions. They knew a lot already, but I don’t know how they could have found out,” she said. “I tried not to tell them anything, but when I didn’t say anything they seemed to think they guessed right. They never said who they were though.”

  “That’s all right. It doesn’t matter what they know or think they know. Now just try to relax while I look around and see what’s what.” He continued scanning the room. “Motion detectors, infra-red beams… very old technology.” He sighed and shook his head. “This will be like breaking into the Louvre back in 2177. Did I ever tell you about that? Ah, the good old days.”

  “The Louvre? The old museum in Paris?”

  “The one and only.”

  “Wait–you mean you’re the one who stole the Mona Lisa?”

  “Well, I don’t like to brag,” he said.

  There. He shot forward like a proton blast, snatching Anne-Marie, chair and all, and crashed through the window as the room lit up behind them in a fireball. He was able to control their fall to an extent, but a five-story drop with Anne-Marie in his arms was a little trickier to control than if it were just himself. He set her down on the sidewalk across the street, and at last broke the ropes holding her. The entire front façade of the building had collapsed, leaving other residents looking out of their apartments, which were now missing their front walls, into the night.

  Anne-Marie was shaking as he put his arm around her and led her nonchalantly off into the night. No one paid any attention to them as the debris from the building crashed down, blocking the road and burying several cars.

  “Well now, that was a different way to spend the evening,” he said, looking around cheerfully.

  She glared at him as he grinned back at her. “You’re enjoying this far too much. You may be immortal and invincible, but I’m not.”

  “We could fix that,” he offered.

  “Don’t even go there. We’ve been over that.”

  “I’m just saying, the offer still stands.”

  “As long as I still have a choice, thanks but no thanks.”

  He laughed. He enjoyed teasing her about turning her into a vampire, but he didn’t ever intend to. Creating more vampires was not something most vampires desired, least of all Andrej.

  “Since it turns out I’m not as anonymous as I like to be, it might be time to move on for awhile,” he said when they reached the apartment.

  “You think that’s necessary?” Anne-Marie picked her way through the mess left from the break-in inside.

  “This little syndicate I’ve been doing business with… perhaps they’re not as low-level as they made out. Otherwise they’d be trying to mark their turf, make their presence known. They have no apparent interest in expanding their operation, which doesn’t make good business sense. It's almost as if they're just a front for something bigger. And, if they did have real information on me, it would have taken some in-depth research to be able to find it. I think disappearing for awhile might be to our benefit. So, where would you like to go?” he asked. The sooner they moved on, he thought, the better.

  “I don’t know. I’ve always lived in New York, I wouldn’t know where else to go.”

  “What say we take in some of the sights in Europe? I think maybe seeing my old stomping grounds would do me some good. What do you say?”

  “Isn’t that a little predictable? Wouldn’t they be expecting you to go there if they really do know who you are?”

  “Possibly, but I still have resources they wouldn’t know about.”

  “Whatever you think.” She shrugged.

  “Fine. Prague it is then.”

  Chapter 2