have you done?" Idris demanded, not even bothering to wring the blood from her clothes. "Thoughtless child! Three of these people were close, personal friends of the Pope himself! I don't recognize the rest, but I assume they were affluent, yes?"
"Or prominent." Hector's jaw clenched, stubborn. "We mean to begin a great change. I have more than these! Don't you understand?" He asked, indicating the slain Vampires heaped between them. The demonstration was turning against him. He felt his insides boil with desperation, and pitched headlong into pleading, unable to stop himself. "We are Vampires!" He yelled to the shocked crowd, though his stare stayed riveted on Idris. "The Living could never hope to match our speed, our strength, or senses. with large enough numbers we could flush the world clean of zealots! All of them!"
Everyone knew to pay attention when Idris got worked up; if for no other reason than to witness the sheer spectacle. So when Hector turned to face the crowd, he found himself the focus of a packed room. He went on without missing a beat. "Imagine it! All of you! Imagine a better world for yourselves! Imagine us not living like rats!" He waved a hand around the damp stone and gloom of their so-called haven. "Imagine us and the Living freed from the ruthless soldiers of false righteousness! We do have choices beyond this . . . hole." He kicked at the dull dust beneath his feet to emphasize his point. Damn the Underground.
He didn't even see Idris's attack. She hit him full-force, knocked him over seemingly without effort. Then she leapt on top of him, pinning him to the ground as she crouched on his chest, grinning like a rabid cannibal. "Listen carefully, boy, because repetition bores me, and I kill things when I'm bored."
Hector opened his mouth to speak, but Idris threw her head back in roar loud enough to shake dirt free of the ceiling.
As dust drifted down in an opaque cloud, Idris hunched low over her captive and continued. "You have brought us the kind of trouble that could finish us all! Whenever the whim takes them, the Cardinals could seal us in to desiccate, or burn out the whole of our Underground! This is our only shelter, foolish child! What idiocy possessed you?"
"We can change--" the rest of his rebuttal was lost when Idris picked him up and drove him into the hard ground with enough force to rattle his bones. Applause echoed through the chamber. It was the moment Hector gave up hope, and said a silent goodbye to his dream.
"You cannot revolutionize The Living you spectacular imbecile!" She shrieked, the last of her patience spent. "They're Living! They will always find a reason for more slaughter; one glorious cause after another! You cannot! Stop! Them!" Her words were punctuated by unrestrained blows to the face. "Our only option is to take what cover we can until this fervor dies down!" She moved her face closer to his, looming over him, as inescapable as the dark of a moonless night. "And it will pass, child. If you were older you would know that." She pulled him violently to his feet.
He steadied himself, and noticed the faces surrounding him were all Predator-drawn. Every one of them. Despite his youth, he knew what it meant. Before he could speak to defend himself, Idris's voice rang out, piercing and firm. A hammer of absolute determination. Hector's withering heart broke to know what an ally she could have been.
"No!" She shouted, her hands held up as if to punctuate the command. "No. I suggest he live, and be thrown to the world above ground. Let him learn the terrible truth."
Hector bore the rest of the Dark Ages wandering. He searched for someplace solid to plant his feet, but found nothing. He soon realized the idea of home was only a foolish daydream.
He also learned Living People had short memories. No matter how brutal the war, any commitment to peace would be forgotten the moment another national rage was provoked, or blatantly created by the greedy and ambitious. Great nations willingly destroyed themselves again and again in pursuit of a mended ego, or moral supremacy.
When the world finally regained some semblance of sanity, he began to see Vampires test the waters of clandestine citizenship once again. So Hector dipped a toe in, and quickly decided neither society fit him. Not Vampires. Not the Living. His urge to revolutionize, or attempt to change anything about the world had been beaten out of him.
He distracted himself from the gaping chasm of eternity with play. Play was fun, meaningless. Play ate up time, satisfied the urge for company, and strictly avoided seriousness. Play was his stock and trade for centuries. Then one night, he wandered down the alley behind the Doghouse.
Of all places to run into his evictor. A dinky theater in an almost microscopic Montana town. He decided to be optimistic and throw one last punch. It landed beautifully; sent her spinning. Eight hundred years to get in one good punch. He stepped back as he wiped the trickle of blood from his nose.
He and Idris stared at one another for what felt like an hour. A minute or two, probably.
"You're absolved," Hector said with a dismissive wave. "I have learned not to care. I let it all go. Every idea or great movement becomes a tool for manipulators and despots eventually, just like you said, so I don't bother anymore. I travel, and I play. When I care too much I move."
Iris frowned. "I don't think I said that."
"Close enough." Hector felt his cell phone vibrate. Text message. He checked it and let out a long groan. He looked at his disheveled nemesis, who seemed surprised to see him with a cell phone. He shrugged. "Yeah. It's a handy gadget. Anyway, I'd love to catch up, but I gotta go. Bud, my idiot friend tried to walk home drunk, seems to have gotten lost and sprained his ankle. I gotta go get him."
"Where is he?" Asked Iris.
Hector read the text, imitating Bud's drunk voice just for the hell of it. "Uh, thrrrrrrrs a big taaaaaash can 'nd cats 'n grass. Whatever. I'll find him and get him home. Nice seeing you. We'll get coffee sometime. My treat."
Iris frowned. "I kicked your ass. Twice."
"Meh." Hector shrugged at her and walked away.
He never got around to that coffee with Idris. (or sex, Hector hadn't ruled it out just because of their fight, what's a little violence between old acquaintances after all?) A week after their alley encounter, Owen and Lauren broke up in an emotional maelstrom of dumbassery. No one in their group escaped the fallout, but the worst of it landed on Chloe. Surviving the ordeal required her to employ the diplomacy skills of a court appointed mediator. Navigating a simple conversation with either of them could get tricky. So he turned her and asked if she'd like to leave town with him. Her parents weren't what you'd call 'involved.' She was convinced he'd dosed her with some funky new drug and laughed about it almost all the way to Wyoming, noting that the fact she was laughing, unafraid, and freakishly aware of 'stuff' was proof Hector had slipped her something just for the hell if it. It was the single greatest feat of Vampirism denial Hector had ever heard. Adorable. He enjoyed Newbies. They were always so much fun.
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Books and Series by R. Smith
Pop Culture Sucks, Manifesto Of A Vampire
Everything Sucks Series
Knights Of Albion
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