Last in Line Read online

  He watched both Rauff and the human. She stretched, rubbed her eyes, and drank more from her cup. Never once did she glance at anyone else in the shop, including Rauff. His partner walked out the shop with a perplexed look on his face.

  “Her heartbeat and breathing remained steady and strong the entire time. But you were right; she did not pay me the least attention,” he admitted with a slight shrug. “Although the blond and brunette sitting near the door passed me their business cards as I left.”

  “No surprise there,” Baron muttered. After a last look at the human, he turned and caught up with Rauff. They walked around the corner in companionable silence. They’d been associates for decades, had traveled across the globe and watched out for one another. If he had any of what humans claimed as friends, then Rauff would fall under that category.

  “Do you think I should talk to Brieloff about this?” Baron asked, referring to the head Elder of the vampires. Things were tense in his world. Hunters used electronic devices, killing their people indiscriminately, there was talk of an uprising. Three years past, a council member had been beheaded, and Brieloff was in the midst of it.

  Rauff shrugged. His leather coat barely moved. “I don’t know. We’ve been here so long there’s bound to be anomalies. Rules have been broken and copulation is happening between species today that were taboo centuries ago. Does it make a difference you can’t read a human? I don’t know, mate.”

  Surprisingly, what he’d said actually made sense and Baron nodded as they continued to their cars. The night air felt good and smelled fresh. Horns honked at pedestrians, neon lights flashed welcome, and establishments beckoned the night patrons. He spoke quietly, after a group of teens brushed by. “The big question, ‘what if’ comes to mind.”

  Rauff hissed at him as he rolled his eyes. “Whatever Baron, you’ve held me up long enough. I have to get back to the club. You are always making more of—”

  “I know, I know,” Baron agreed in an attempt to stall a lecture. “I’m always looking for more when there may not be more.” Exhaling, he continued. “Well, this could have some repercussions on our kind, you never know. It may be just the tip of the iceberg.”

  Rauff snorted, pulled up his collar, and stepped into his car. “You’ve traveled across the world, discovered more and done more to help our kind than you’ll ever receive credit for. Yet you rarely take time for just fun and relaxation. We’ve discussed this many times in the past, so I don’t expect tonight to be much different. You really need to relax.” Smiling wickedly in the face of Baron’s frown, he said, “Maybe you should find out more about your human, talk to her, and ask her for a date. Then you can ask all the questions you’d like.” Rauff started his car, missing the dark scowl Baron sent his way.

  Chapter 2

  The day after his experiment with Rauff and the human, Baron set out to work in his lab. Some of his newest creations needed tweaking. He’d been at it most of the day when a surge of lethargy rolled over him, pressing hard against his shoulders. Unable to keep his eyes open, he left his lab and headed to his sleeping quarters on the same floor. The moment he reached his room, he fell across the bed into a deep sleep.

  “Arrghh,” Baron yelled awakening from his rest, doubling over. His spasming body threw itself off the bed. His lips tightened into a straight line across his face as if nails were driven into his skull, stretching them. The sounds of grinding teeth echoed in the room. Fast shallow breaths pumped through his quivering nostrils. His body shook like a leaf on a new twig in a gale. Muscles tightened in his jaw, snapping his mouth shut when he tried to scream. Writhing on the hardwood floor, his flesh rippled and tore. Tears mixed with blood ran down his face as it contorted, bones shifted, reformed.

  Clueless as to what was happening or why, he tried desperately to stop the agony and curled into a fetal position. Images flew beneath his closed lids. His head flopped rapidly, banging against the floor. Shuddering in denial at the last image, his head snapped back at an awkward angle which would’ve killed him if he were human.

  An inhuman scream shot from his mouth as his chest and back twisted, pulling up from his lower torso. Fluids—possibly sweat—poured down his body. His back tightened and spasmed until he couldn’t breathe. Before the uttered plea to the One for assistance escaped his lips, his arms shot out.

  He begged for death.

  His lower torso pulled forward while his arms and legs chaotically hit the floor in an odd rhythm. A silent scream escaped. Locked tight, his throat refused freedom to his fervent pleas and prayers. A sticky liquid coated his body, drenching him as he tried to breathe through the pain. Rolling to the side to avoid his own filth, he cried as his eyes burned in his crackling skull. He was dying, Baron was sure of it. For what seemed like hours, his body had betrayed him.

  Death, please let me die.

  “Ohhhhhhh shit,” he howled hoarsely as a searing sensation hit his lower chest. Shaking, head thrown back, his back arched off the floor. His legs trembled until the burning ceased. “Enough,” he roared in his mind, but the pitiful sounds escaping his cracked lips were barely heard. “When will this end?” The question ran rampant through his mind before he slumped on the floor, falling into a deep sleep as the pain finally eased.

  It was dark again. Lying still, Baron’s mind went on full alert as he tried to interpret what happened earlier. Lying on the cold floor, a putrid smell from somewhere to the right of him tormented his nostrils. He rolled to the left, surprised at the size of his hands on the floor. They were huge, like a Bear’s paw.

  “Impossible.” Kneeling, he noticed his head reached the top of his high poster bed. Impossible. The height from the ground was the main reason he’d commissioned the construction of the four-poster bed. He used steps to access it every night. Twisting his neck, he stretched and jumped up.

  “Shit,” he yelled as he looked down on the bed. Somehow, he’d grown significantly overnight, at least a foot. Standing in the middle of his room, he fumbled for the spectacles he kept on the side table. Not that he needed them to see. He used them as part of his wardrobe and was accustomed to them. They didn’t fit across his face. Holding them loosely in his hand, he ran to the mirrored vanity in the bathroom. His gaze slid to the extra-large Jacuzzi tub and separate shower. He’d be making use of one of them soon.

  Leaning forward, his breath caught at the reflection. He turned away in shock. A quick glance around the tiled room assured him he was indeed at home. Everything was as it should be, except him. Slowly he returned to the image in the glass.

  “What the hell...” Reaching up, he gently touched his face. It was similar and different at the same time. Angular with high cheekbones, a pointed chin, and sharper blade of his nose. But it was the intense color of his eyes that arrested his attention. Aqua blue eyes with an incandescent glow replaced his original muddy brown orbs and he didn’t like them at all. The new set were more intense, as if someone had dumped a hundred colors together to create this unique shade of blue.

  Blinking, he couldn’t believe the length and thickness of the lashes and the slashing thick brows over his eyes. A slight shake of his head set a thick wavy curtain of brownish black hair with gold and light brown highlights in motion. After running his hand through it, he realized it fell down his back. He grabbed a wad in his hand, rubbing the strands together. He yanked it hard and smelled it. Glad it held no special strength, like the Hercules he’d read about, he planned to have it cut.

  As a man of science and as a vampire, he knew and agreed there were things outside the box. However, this transformation stretched his ‘box’ past the point that he had to see, touch, and smell to believe. Pushing back from the sink, he studied his body. His legs were long and sculpted, as were his arms; muscles on top of muscles. Hell, he was taller than Rauff, and probably Lukian. He lifted one arm, then the other. Barely breathing, he completed a bicep curl and watched muscles appear quadruple the size of what he’d had just three days ago. His chest expanded
to twice its previous width, and probably matched Lukian’s.

  Smiling at the thought of Lukian, he imagined what he’d have to say about this new development. The man would be eaten with jealous curiosity.

  Turning to the side, Baron noticed muscles trailed across and down his back and arms. Left arm lifted, he bent forward in an attempt to see a new mark on his lower stomach. Grabbing a small mirror from a drawer, he looked closer. It was an ancient Greek symbol, signifying last.

  Baron’s legs buckled and he hit the marble tiled floor. Last, what did it mean?

  “Nooooooo,” he wailed. He couldn’t be the last of his race, he thought desperately. He’d just talked to Rauff last night at the cafe. He opened his senses and let out a sigh of relief. No, he wasn’t the last Vemdoris. Standing, he walked into his bedroom and lay across the bed. Breathing deeply, he opened his mind to his line. They weren’t close and he didn’t know much about them other than they were all placed together in a group the One called their line. In the past whenever they had questions and contacted him, he’d answer, but had no real understanding of them personally. “Cull, Marias the Just, Rhiannon, Sven, Halgreth, Ian, Bulgar, Brevar, and Icar,” he called out to them through their mental links.

  No answer.

  He attempted to locate his linesmen Icar and Brevar again; he hadn’t seen them in decades. Last he heard, they resided in the East somewhere. They preferred the Eastern culture and through the years trained with priests and monks. He’d thought them invincible.

  Closing his eyes, he waited for a sign of life from anyone of his kinsmen. Nothing. A yawning void filled him at the realization he might be the last of his line. Just as the Jewish nation was split into twelve tribes, the One had divided the Vemdorians in the same manner after their arrival on Earth. They were promised there would always be at least one original person or their direct seed on the planet from each line. It appeared that honor fell on him.

  He looked at his hands in awe. No one ever mentioned this, at least he’d never read about such a transformation. Eager to learn more, he showered, foraged in his closet and found a pair of jeans and a t-shirt Lukian had left behind, and called out telepathically to Brieloff for a meeting.

  Within moments, he stood before the Elder. Brieloff’s greeting area had a few scattered upholstered chairs, expressive artwork, and a desk off to the side. The marble floors gleamed with golden inlays that pointed in the direction of the meeting rooms. Baron had always thought they changed depending on the nature of the visit, but had no way of verifying his thought. Overall, it was an impressive room. One entire wall was transparent, allowing one to stare at the majesty of the mountainside behind it.

  “Greetings, Claudius Baron,” Brieloff said from his seat behind the desk and waved to a chair nearby.

  Baron offered a slight bow before walking toward the offered seat. He sat forward, allowing the inspection that took place. “Greetings, Elder Brieloff, it’s good to know my scent is still familiar. I was unsure if I would be recognized in this new frame. Tell me, am I the last of my line?”

  Brieloff looked closely as if inspecting a valuable antique. “It appears so. I see your entire line reflected in your stare and appearance.” He steepled his fingertips beneath his chin. “Fascinating. I see the intelligence and patience of Council Member Cull. I sense the strategic brilliance of Ian. Marias the Just winked at me. Icar and Brevar bowed. Rhiannon, Sven, Bulgar, Halgreth, they are all there.” He tapped his upper lip with his fingertip and sat back. “I saw them all plainly. You have an impressive line of healers, spellbinders, entertainers, fighters, and builders, tempered with justice and wisdom.”

  Baron hated not knowing all of this. It went against his nature to be clueless. That Brieloff saw something that he’d missed aggravated his sensibilities. “Be specific, please.”

  “You carry each individual in your initial line. That’s probably why you are so tall, have the odd coloring of your eyes, the hair, the muscular frame.” He pointed to each feature. “You’ve also obtained or have access to the knowledge each kinsman held.” Brieloff tapped his lips again as he stared thoughtfully. “You can probably kick ass like Brevar or move as fast as lightning like Icar.”

  Baron cringed at the imagery. “I abhor violence. This information does not please me at all.” Despite the deep baritone of his voice and the change of his body, he was still a scientist at heart. He planned to keep as much of himself as possible.

  As Brieloff’s words settled, a sense of awareness permeated Baron. Last in his line. The one chosen to continue their name, their legacy and their progeny. Ten great men populated his line and their essences now resided within him. No question things had changed, he felt the jockeying inside, the tingles of memories that were not his, whispers of recognition. Most of the names Brieloff called out were legends amongst his people. They reminded him of a responsibility to his line that he had no knowledge of. He needed to learn everything he could.

  “With all the warriors, healers, diplomats and gifted ones in my line, I can’t believe the last one to survive is the quiet Scientist. I’ve never been interested in fighting, the arts, or medicine. My interest lies in technological discoveries, inventions, and things to assist us while we are here. I am humbled and honored by this selection,” Baron said with a touch of awe. Although he didn’t choose this position, he wouldn’t shame his line by complaining or shunning his responsibilities once he understood what they were.

  The two men shared a quiet moment.

  “We weren’t sure how He would accomplish such a feat. As usual, His ways are perfect. You are the walking embodiment of your entire line, and as you procreate, we, as a people, live on.” Pausing, he peered at Baron, “I trust the transformation was not too difficult.”

  “Hmmm, let’s just say I never want to go through that again. It took three days. He’d been meaning to discuss the strange occurrence in the bookstore two weeks ago with Brieloff and hadn’t had the opportunity. “Something else strange happened.” He waved his hand. “It has nothing to do with this. But was odd all the same.”

  “Ah...explain please,” Brieloff requested, and sat back in his chair, fingertips once again steepled beneath his chin.

  “Let me start at the beginning, it may make more sense to you.” He explained the initial meeting in front of the bookstore and the subsequent experiment on the sidewalk of the coffee shop. He explained he’d been following her from time to time to make sure she wasn’t connected to the Hunters or the rebellion.

  Nodding his understanding, Brieloff seemed surprised, but didn’t interrupt. Leaning back into the chair, he attempted to get comfortable, wrestling with his long arms for a moment. Miffed, he settled them across his lap and resumed his speech.

  “Is this something that’s common amongst our people? I mean I rarely socialize with anyone, especially humans, so I may be behind on some things.”

  “You said she paid Rauff no attention?” At his nod, Brieloff frowned. “Hmmm, that’s unusual; however, I confess I have not heard of such a thing. No, it is not just you. Tell me, are you attracted to her?”

  “Attracted?” Tilting his head, he paused to think. “Attracted, yes. However, I believe intrigued to be a better word. Yes, that’s it. It’s not often I observe someone so different.” He crossed and uncrossed the long legs in front of him. Aggravated, he stood and paced in front of the desk.

  “This is ridiculous! I feel as though I need to relearn walking and moving. I’m this freakish giant with all this... this hair!” He stopped in front of the desk pulling a section of the thick mass. “My life has been quiet, unobtrusive. No one noticed me or paid me any attention. I had peace and quiet to gather data and conduct my experiments. Now, at over six and a half feet, with wild hair whipping around my shoulders, I stand out like a monster amongst lambs. I don’t like it.”

  Brieloff stared up at him, seemingly dazed at the ranting and transformation. “You have always been one of the most laid back Vemdorians in exist
ence. No question about it, your temperament has certainly changed, and you’ve picked up some of your linemates aggression. You resemble a warrior of old.”

  Baron threw up his hands. “Great, just great. Those were wicked days when men settled their differences quickly and without a lot of talk.” Arms folded, Baron glared at Brieloff from across the room. Admittedly, his chest was lighter, but he needed advice on how to proceed as the last of his line.

  “Feel better?” Brieloff asked, unabashed.

  Sighing, he returned to his chair and eased into the seat. “What’s expected of me as the last of my line, Brieloff?” Worry threaded through the tone in his voice. “I mean besides stud service.”

  He shrugged. “You are the first to ever reach this change so I’m not sure. However, there are some practical matters that we can attend to.” Reaching over he picked up the phone and punched in a few numbers. He spoke into the receiver. “I have a unique situation that requires your personal expertise. Can you make time within the next few minutes?”

  “We’ll be there in a minute or two, side entrance. Have it cleared.” He paused. “Thanks.” Hanging up, he gestured for Baron to stand and follow him. The two walked toward the veranda and disappeared. They reappeared in front of a red wooden door. After a momentary scan, it opened, and they entered. The hall opened into a sizable waiting area with large comfortable leather chairs, magazines on tables, and a game area for small children. A muted television sat in the corner broadcasting news of the day. Brieloff moved toward a perfectly coiffed young woman. Latina, if Baron had to guess. Her smile made it apparent she knew Brieloff, even as she looked Baron up and down.

  “She’s expecting you, Sir. Please go right in.” She pointed toward a closed door while winking at Baron.

  Brieloff nodded his thanks as they walked forward, opened the door, and then sealed it. Selma Ackland raised her brow at the sealing of the door. Her mouth dropped and eyes widened as she stared at Baron. The pen dropped from her fingers as her hand covered her mouth. Her face tightened, leached color.