Vampires of the Eight Page 2

  Tabatha looked at the darkened cave and held her hand out to Clayton. “All the other smeller vampires are strong enough. We don’t have time to talk about this topic. You will ascend. You must ascend!”

  “What are other smeller vampires?”

  Tabatha ignored his question. The ceremony will provide the answers he sought.

  They walked several yards. The darkness surrounded them.

  “Where are we going, mother? I can’t see.”

  “When you gain your powers, you will be able to see much better in the dark. We have to make a right turn soon.”

  “I thought you said there were candles.”

  “There are Clayton. It will start to get lighter soon. Don’t worry; I will guide you. We placed the candles much further in to avoid any nosey and curious humans.”

  They turned right and walked for some time. Clayton tried to listen for any sounds or signs to tell him they were close. He heard a chorus of voices in his language. Strange, thought Clayton. He could discern a human man nearby, and the man was yelling and screaming in the human tongue.

  The further along they went, the brighter it became. Clayton and his mother made another right and came to a large clearing. He noticed that his relatives were sitting side by side. He looked up at the ceiling; it towered over himself and his mother.

  Clayton saw a thick chain descending from the high ceiling that went down, which kept the yelling human bound. The man was on his knees, with the chain behind his back that held his arms and legs secure. He was not wearing any cloth skins or sandals.

  Clayton looked back down and saw his family gathered around the inner circle, and several outer groups surrounded them with members of his and other tribes. They were chanting a familiar tune used in the ancient ritual.

  Clayton waved to his younger sister and brother, and they eagerly waved back.

  Clayton’s father, Tarson, rose. As he stood erect, the chanting halted. His eyes grew dark, and he lifted his hands to the towering ceiling as he addressed the tribes.

  “Fellow tribesman, we stand before you today, as we have for generations, to welcome my son, Clayton Cole, to ascend to his vampire-hood!”

  Cheers echoed over the steep canyon.

  Tarson looked around and beamed with pride as he gazed upon his son for a moment. His attention turned back to the tribes. “All of you who are standing here today have bore witness to our other tribesmen in celebrating their ascension. I only wish my great-grandfather and father were alive to see!”

  Tarson thought of the battle with the other smellers that killed some of his lineages. He shook the memory away. It took him a few seconds to regain his composure.

  “Now, in accordance with the bylaws that have been handed down orally since my grandfather, we will start the ceremony!” Tarson roared.

  Tabatha squirmed where she stood. She hoped Clayton would go through the ceremony without complaint. Her son questioned everything.

  Tabatha noticed a distant relative look at her, but couldn’t remember her name. Tabatha politely smiled despite the trepidation she felt inside.

  She shivered. The next part of the ceremony was vital.

  “As you know, my tribe has difficulty bearing children. To have three children was a gift from the gods!”

  Praises reverberated from the walls of the vast room.

  “As per part of the ceremony, I must ask, does anyone object to my son’s ascension?” Tarson asked coldly. Tarson expected no resistance, and none spoke up. No one dared to. No vampire in their right mind would deny his son ascension. Being an archetype had its perks, Tarson mused to himself.

  Tabatha sighed with relief. She had heard the rumors circling the tribes of Clayton not fitting in the vampire’s world and hoped no one would question her son’s ascension. Tabatha knew, with certainty, Clayton needed to ascend because he was a thinker and not a being that would play by the rules. Changes were coming, she knew, and Clayton was the vampire that could make the necessary changes. Her younger son, Milas, and her youngest daughter, Beatrice, would not. They were followers, not leaders. She came out of her daydream when she heard her husband speak again.

  “Clayton, come to me!” Tarson demanded.

  Clayton’s long dark hair bounced up and down as he sprinted to his father. The tribesmen let him pass as he stood next to his father.

  “As in the oral traditions of the past, I will ask you only once; Clayton, my eldest son, do you agree to ascend to vampire-hood and forsake your former life as an in-betweener?”

  Clayton felt a sense of pride as he scanned the room. He could feel the electrifying atmosphere. “I do! I so swear it!” He gazed around and witnessed the joy coming from his mother and father.

  Tabatha’s apprehension vanished when the clapping of her tribesmen’s fists into their palms rose in chorus.

  Tarson acknowledged his tribe’s reaction by smiling for a moment. Then a change came over him. His eyes grew even darker, and his posture stiffened.

  “It is time to talk about the rules of our tribe, Clayton! These rules apply to everyone, and they will ensure our survival.” He looked at Clayton to make sure he had his attention.

  “First off, you are never allowed to kill one of your own types, but if threatened, you may kill other types of vampires.”

  “I don’t understand, father,” Clayton said in earnest.

  Tarson looked at his son with seriousness.“The rules are clear, Clayton.”

  “I understand that, father. What I don’t understand are the other types of vampires you mentioned.”

  A sudden understanding came over Tarson. “Ah, the different types. When you feed, you can not only feed on a human with sweet-smelling blood but any other smelling human.”

  “Sweet-smelling blood?”

  “Yes. There is sweeter smelling blood, while some are saltier, and still, others are sour. One type had a bitter taste.”

  “Isn’t sour and bitter the same thing, father?”

  “No. Sour is like some yellow fruits, while bitter is similar to the broths your mother makes. But don’t worry. Once you attain vampire-hood, you’ll be able to smell the different types of blood.”

  “How could you tell unless you drank their blood?”

  “Once you become a vampire, your senses will emerge much more robust and potent than humans! You will be able to smell which kind of blood the other vampires have and, more importantly, what type the humans have.”

  “What happens if a salt smeller, a bitter smeller, or a sour smeller took our sweeter blood?”

  Tarson looked at the crowd. “My son is asking important questions before his ascension! To those that will eventually ascend, take notice!” He returned his attention to Clayton. “They would die a painful death because the types of blood are mismatched. Even though our tribe is small, we can take blood from any human, and because of that, we are far stronger than the other tribes. That’s why the other vampires have hunted us throughout the ages. However, we are at our strongest when we feed upon the sweet-smelling humans.”

  “Honey, enough questions for your father. We have a ceremony to perform,” Tabatha said in frustration.

  Tarson put up a hand. “It’s no bother, wife. He is learning. Other tribesmen have had similar questions in times past. Clayton’s questions must be answered before the ceremony continues.” He looked at Clayton. “Any more questions, son?”

  “Yes, father. Don’t some humans become vampires?”

  His father’s eyes grew tighter. “Yes, although we sweet smellers, do not partake.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it decreases the purity of our tribe!” Tarson spat.

  The tribe acknowledged Tarson’s statement by the robust clapping of fists to their palms.

  Clayton had to wait for the clapping to finish to resume. “How come I don’t possess a thirst for blood?”

  “Because, at this point, you still eat human food because you’re still an in-betweener. Food suppresses the
urge for blood.”

  “After I ascend, will I still be able to eat human food?”

  “Yes, if you wanted to suppress your vampire-hood. The only reason you would need to suppress your blood thirst is if there is a shortage of humans to feed upon.”

  “Okay. One more question, father, if I may?”

  Tarson nodded. “As I’ve stated, there are other children here that will eventually ascend that need to hear your questions, Clayton.”

  “How, and when, did several types of smellers become different?”

  Tarson’s face hardened. That was the most challenging question to answer.

  “The lineage of our family of vampires started with my great-grandfather a millennia ago. The oral history tells us of a tall lone woman who roamed the lands where we dwell. It was said the Stranger came to the farm my great-grandfather owned, begging for food. However, as the story goes, the Stranger wanted food of a different kind. She sought blood. The beggar promised our ancestor goods equal to and above gold if the Stranger could have some of his pregnant wife’s blood. The hobo promised eternal life.”

  “And she produced all types of smelling vampires, father?”

  “Yes,” Tarson stated simply.

  “We are the sweet-smelling blood you have told me about, father. How did we get the other types?” Clayton asked.

  “Back then, when my great-grandfather agreed to the conditions set forth by the Stranger, he learned the same vagabond made agreements with seven other pregnant women in the area after his. Each family member, once bitten, discovered they smelled differently.”

  “Who was the Stranger?”

  “No one knows.”

  Tarson turned to his audience. His voice boomed over the whimpering human who was attempting to break his chains. “And every hundred years, the Stranger comes back and promises other expectant families the same arrangement!” Tarson put up his index finger. “Lest all of you remember! My family, the Cole Tribe, is the oldest member of our Tribes, for they were bitten first!”

  Thunderous applause erupted through the enormous room. Palms to fist reverberated across the vast room. When the praise ended, Clayton looked at his father.

  “Has anyone ever turned the woman down with her request?” Clayton asked with concern.

  “Not to my knowledge,” Tarson said impatiently.

  Clayton nodded.

  “Now, for the final part of the ceremony!” He turned to his son. “Clayton, you must now drink the blood of the chained human for the transformation to take place!”

  A chanting rose from the gathered. “Drink! Drink! Drink!” The chorus became deafening as Clayton deliberately slowed his pace to the shackled human.

  Tabatha smiled in pride as her eldest son approached the worthless puny human.

  The human’s eyes enlarged with fear when Clayton was upon him. He struggled to break the thick restraints.

  “See how he cowers in fear of you, Clayton? Yet he is unaware his sacrifice will continue to allow our bloodline to survive!” Tarson yelled to his flock.

  Clayton’s body shuddered, but this time it was not from fear. No, Clayton had surpassed that emotion. It was a new feeling that emerged. It now became a sense of supremacy that he, Clayton Cole, felt knowing he would be welcomed and accepted into his and the other tribes.

  Clayton stood beside the human, bent down, and forced the man up for all those to see.

  “With my family and tribes before me, I now become a vampire!”

  “Get your filthy fangs off me!” the man screamed.

  “Clayton, as you drink the human’s blood, you will feel unbelievable power course through your body! Your strength, eyesight, bone thickness, and unbreakable skin will increase to a level you never dreamt about!” Tarson shouted above the human’s whimpering.

  Clayton took hold of the human’s head and moved it to the left to make his throat exposed.

  “Son, there are two places to suck the blood out. Since you're new, feel his throat and go for the thinner place where blood flows slower!” Tarson warned.

  He turned from the human. “Why?” demanded Clayton? By now, the anticipation was overwhelming.

  “If you suck blood from the thicker blood flow, the blood comes out much faster, and the change comes over you much quicker! Sometimes the rush of energy is too much for an in-betweener.”

  Clayton turned back to the human and felt for the thicker blood flow, ignoring his father’s request. He could see and feel the crimson fluid pumping. He felt a rush like no other overcome his senses! Like a beast that was starving, Clayton bit into the center of the thicker stream that coursed through the human that would provide him with life-altering energy and nourishment.

  As he drank the dark fluid that was gushing into his mouth, Clayton soaked in the potent blood at such a rapid pace; he couldn’t stop himself!

  After a few seconds, Tabatha grew concerned. “That’s enough, Clayton!”

  Clayton heard his mother, but it was more like a voice from a distant dream. The sheer rush of energy and power made him ignore his mother’s command as he continued to soak up the blood that flew freely from the human’s throbbing neck.

  He was slowly being pushed away from his meal. Someone was trying to thwart his ascension, and he would have none of it! How dare they!

  “That’s enough, son!” Tarson ordered.

  He heard his father’s command but ignored it. He was so close to draining the life from his food supply, couldn’t they see that?

  Clayton was facing the human, draining the life-juice out of the man until Tarson grabbed his shoulders and threw him across the room. “I said that was enough!”

  Clayton swiftly scurried on all fours to a nearby corner. His vision became sharper, as did his hearing. He put his fists into the air and shouted in unbelievable joy at the unparalleled power he felt coursing through his body!

  The different tribes, which were all offshoots of the Cole tribe, stood up in unison and sang praise for the ascension of Clayton Cole.

  Clayton Cole was now officially a vampire.

  Chapter Three

  The Council Square 1522

  The birth of the twins Grady and Markus Cole was a cause for celebration. It had been over five hundred years since the childbirth of a sweet blood vampire had been born in the Cole tribe. The difficulty with the sweet smellers and the continuation of their kind weighed heavily on Clayton’s mind.

  After the three-day celebration in which he got to see his family once again, Clayton was in his small kitchen having dinner, while Ada Cole was feeding the twins in their bedroom.

  Ada walked in and sat down beside Clayton. He was contemplative as Ada studied him. His long brown hair parted in the middle gave him a look of a holy man. Clayton had the bluest eyes she had ever seen. He had a thin, but a muscular body that astounded Ada with his feats of strength. Clayton was over five hundred years old, and she was only two hundred and forty-one, which was a young woman by their standards.

  “What are you thinking about, husband?”

  He looked at Ada, his wife of thirty-seven years. Her brown eyes were rare in this part of England. Her robust frame only enhanced her beauty. Ada’s long blond hair fell until it reached her lower back.

  “I think there are far too few humans around these parts. I think we should move.”

  Ada was taken aback. “Move? Move where?”

  “Somewhere there are more sweet-smelling humans,” Clayton said cautiously.

  “Why can’t we suck the blood from animals? They run around unchecked as if they’re daring us to suck nourishment from them!” Ada said in exasperation. Ever since she could remember, she was forbidden to take blood from animals.

  “Other vampires have tried and died horribly. I imagine it has something to do with our blood not being able to recognize theirs.” Clayton pondered for a moment. “I don’t want to keep eating human food; while it sustains our existence, it suppresses our vampirism. If other types of smelling vampires s
ense any kind of weakness, our sweet-smelling kind will be in trouble!”

  “But Clayton, we have family and friends here! Where will we go?”

  He looked at Ada. He hesitated before speaking. “I was in private talks with a boatsman this past week. The boatsman knows of land across the pond that is big and vast.”

  “Does he even know if humans live there?” Ada asked with concern.

  “The man claims he has seen native people, tribes just like us.”

  “I don’t know, Clayton,” Ada said reluctantly. “Even if we do decide to move, we would need permission from the council.”

  “I am the head of the council, Ada,” Clayton said with a touch of annoyance.

  “I know that, Clayton! But, if we don’t seek and get their approval, especially from your mother, we will be banished for life. Think of our children!”

  Clayton stood up and pounded his fist on the oak table. “Dammit, Ada! I am thinking of them. I am thinking of us and our very survival too! Do you think we’re the only ones in this predicament?”

  “So, you’ve been talking to other sweet smellers about moving away from our tribes without my knowledge?”

  “Consider yourself told,” Clayton said a little too forcibly.

  He looked at Ada, sat back down, and put his hands over hers. “I am sorry, Ada. But honey, we have to do something. I haven’t taken blood from a human in a while. Is there anything you can suggest that I didn’t think of that could help?”

  Ada thought for a moment. Her eyes darted back and forth. “How about if our entire tribe moved with us? There’s strength in numbers. No other vampires are going there that you know about, right?”

  “Yes, none that I know about. Your point does have merit. It would take some convincing from the other council members.”

  “And what about your mother? Do you think she will go along with your scheme? After all, she is on the council too. She’s rooted in the affairs of our tribe. You do not care about the day to day activities; therefore, she holds more sway than even you.”

  “We shall see,” Clayton said as they heard loud banging on the door.

  “Who could it be this late in the evening? The festivities are complete,” Ada complained.