Dreams of Death
a vampire novella by Mychael Black & Shayne Carmichael
Phaze Books
A new serial killer is on the loose. As the bodies pile up, the
police scrambled to make sense of the bizarre pieces of evidence. A
gang of hackers following the case know a lot more than the police do.
They know the killer isn't human, and they're putting the clues
together faster than the police can.
Determined to find the creature by himself, Aaron tracks down the
vampire to give him an offer Aaron thinks will be difficult to turn
down. Within sight of one of Aaron's dreams, he's not about to let fear
or sanity stand in his way. Besides he can give the vampire something
he needs so he doesn't believe he'll be the creature's next victim.
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Excerpt:
Aaron ditched his buddies easily enough. None of them had any clue what
he was up to. If they did, they would have trailed him, then beat the
ever living shit out of him.
He’d left them trying to track Dracula, and hadn’t bothered
to tell any of them he had a really good clue where the killer might
strike next. He didn’t think this person was a serial killer. No,
it had to be an honest-to-God vampire. No matter what the speculation
in the newspaper said.
With each victim, it had become easier and easier for the police to
find them. The vampire was either getting exceptionally careless or, as
Aaron suspected, increasingly panicked. The last victim had been found
in a derelict building right outside of town. If Aaron’s hunch
was correct, the vampire wouldn’t be too far off. The cops had no
clue they were dealing with a real vampire. They were too busy with
their killer profiling and lab reports.
No vampire in his right mind would commit these killings, not in this
day and age of legal citizenship. It was far too easy to get a meal and
maintain respectability for the vamps. Even the newspaper theorized it
was a mortal trying to cause trouble for the vampires.
Making no effort to hide himself from anybody watching from derelict
buildings, Aaron pushed open the old rusty gate of the rundown complex.
The police had assumed since they hadn’t found any signs of life
in the surrounding area that the killer wasn’t there. Aaron knew
better. The vampire would be an expert at concealing himself from any
searches, and the cops had no idea what they were really looking for.
Chances were the vampire had the power to hide himself even if the cops
were looking right at him. Other than the occasional breeze, everything
was unusually still. The moon cast a silver-gray glow over the
rubble-strewn ground, but the buildings themselves were hidden beneath
shadows. It was the perfect place to hide, especially for a vampire.
He avoided the building where the yellow police tape flapped against
the door. He doubted if the vampire would push his luck that much.
Instead, he paused for a moment, looking over each building before he
chose the one furthest from the others. It made a good place to start.
Turning the knob, he found the door locked. Then he slowly circled the
building, trying to find a way in.
“Bingo,” he muttered to himself, seeing the broken window
in the back wall. Raising himself up over the sill, he climbed into the
window. He had to squirm to squeeze his way through the tight frame.
Once inside, he swung his flashlight and the beam lit the broken wooden
crates strewn over the floor. A rat scurried across the floor and
darted into a hole in the wall. The air was stale, and dust particles
drifted in the light as Aaron swept it around the room. The crates
looked like pallets for stacking goods and most were nothing more than
enormous splinters now.
As he crept farther, he directed the light around the room. Looking
towards one of the doors at the back, Aaron saw the flash of a shadow
moving across the doorway. He lit the door, but there was nothing
there. Aaron kept the flashlight steadily lighting the door. Beyond it
was a hallway stretching on for what seemed like the entire length of
the building. Doors led off from each side along the hall, and most
were closed, their windows broken. Then the shadow reappeared in the
hallway. It hovered a few yards in front of Aaron, but it didn’t
advance on him.
Aaron didn’t move any closer to the strange darkness. “I know you’re here, and I know what you are.”
Though he probably should have been terrified, Aaron wasn’t. He
had something the vampire needed. And to get it, the vampire would have
to let him live. His heartbeat accelerated.
Although the shadow didn’t move, a deep, resonating voice broke the silence following Aaron’s pronouncement.
“Who are you?”
“Aaron Sellers. Who are you?” Aaron lowered the flashlight out of courtesy.
“Taylor.”
With the absence of the light, the shadow drifted closer. As it moved,
it took on a more tangible form. The features were not clear, but from
the shape, it was obvious this Taylor was a man.
“Why are you here?”
Aaron didn’t retreat from the advancing form. Frowning slightly,
he focused on trying to find details of a face within the misty dark.
“I’m here because you need to get out of here. The cops are
going to track you down and real soon. They aren’t all
stupid.”
A laugh as dark as the blackness surrounding them was Taylor’s
immediate answer. “And what would you suggest? Given my nature, I
am limited in my choices.”
The tone of the laugh made Aaron shiver, yet he wasn’t the least
bit of afraid. Maybe a saner person would have been, but this was his
dream come true. This town was too damn small to attract any vampires,
and this was his only chance of seeing one.
“Not exactly.” With a devious grin, Aaron fished in his
jeans pocket and dug out his car keys. “I figured you had no way
out of here. Your chariot awaits you, sir.” After making an
exaggerated bow, Aaron straightened, laughing. “I was right about
you.”
“Right about me?”
The figure stepped closer and the shadows faded, revealing a
fine-featured man who looked to be no more than in his late twenties.
But his dark brown eyes held ages within them. He was dressed in black
cloth pants and a white, loose shirt. His long, dark brown hair fell
over his shoulders. The black boots he wore were as dusty and ragged as
the rest of his clothing.
“How were you right about me?”