The Legend Of The Christian Zombie Vampires
- dndariusnorman30
- Aug 7, 2018
- 10 min read
Chapter III
The Dark Side Reborn
(Council of Doom)
Dark shadows lingered in the cold brick room. A spotlight in the center of the round room lays down a glowing light on the time of moonlight. The light illuminated most of the room. Three feet from the outer edge of the room stayed pitch black, and all spells performed in this room were dependent on that exact measurement of shadow to light resolution.
Right in the center of the room was a chair. A man sat there. His head covered in a black silk sack, his neck tied with just enough pressure that he could still breathe, was tilted down with his chin upon his chest. His hands were brutally bruised and had blood stains from the twine that bonded his hands sharply behind his back. His feet bare, did not quite touch the musty cold floor; they too were tied in twine and his ankles were bruised and bloodied. The room was cold as ice, and he breathed in short gasps of breath. Terror filled his mind. His soul feared for its end and his eyes cried dry pulp salts, for he had cried for what seemed like days in this dark place.
In the distance, the man heard an explosive boom. When he heard footsteps they seemed light, though they seemed light, he could feel the vibrations of their weight pulse up his spine. He moaned in agony, but his body was too feeble to try to escape. The twine burst into his veins with atrocious pain at his every movement and the twine seemed to grow tighter at every moment he felt tense. So he just listened. He licked the snot rolling constantly from his shivering nose. The mucus membranes were so thick that he gagged. The footsteps grew nearer. Oddly, they felt softer as they came closer until finally, he felt a hand on his skull. Fingers which he could not see, yanked his hair with force that drew more dry and salty tears. Warm thick blood slid warmly down his wrists and over his hands. Drops of his life plopped in the moonlight lit floor.
The fingers pulled a tense chord just below the man’s chin. He sniffled and shook in fear. Thick, hot urine ran down his legs and pushed the blood clean from his ankles with a burn. His emotions would not let him control his bladder. Ice cold fingers ripped the sack off of his head, taking a chunk of hair out from its roots. The pain throbbed and he could not open his eyes. Small blood beads rose from his scalp and trickled down his face, turning his white beard pink.
Behind him stood the woman. She wore a cloak, like that of a monk. Her hair flowed out of the hood and down around her pale neck. She placed her cheek on his leathery age-old white bearded face. Her chin cleft dug into his collarbone. Her breasts pressed firmly against his shoulder blades, no body heat seemed to transfer as the old man shook like a seizure. She blinked hard and spoke gently into the night air.
“Tell me what you know of power, old man.”
She took a step back behind him. She placed a bare footed heel over the twine that bound his feet. The old man shook as blood spouted out of his veins onto the bottom of the woman’s cloak. The blood splashed down upon her toes like mud might on a summer night by a lake. She rested her hands gently and massaged his tense shoulders without taking the pressure off his aching tired feet. He did not reply, but shrieked a terrible sound of submissive desperation.
She moved her hands down his skinny, bony shoulders and placed her hands between his moist armpits and pulled back by his biceps. Pushing her foot down, his hands and feet now clenched in agony. His head stretched back, and he looked up at her wincing with a gasp that made his face turn red from the lack of oxygen to his brain. Veins in his neck, popped out a blue in green shade of age. She looked down at him with cold eyes. She looked at him with zero pity and asked with authority once more.
“Tell me what you know of power, old man!”
Her fingers dug deep into him. The skin she touched ripped under her nails, more blood fell.
The man put his lips together and in a heavy whisper, pushed out his words.
“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.”
He closed his eyes, tense with appropriate fear.
The woman removed her cloak, and her eyes glowed evil, almost red like the blood moon. Her hair was down but had a portion of it in a bun, held with silver metal sticks. She reached up and pulled them out, her hair fell a mess and she smiled a villainous smile and said, “Tell me old man, do you wish mercy at this very moment?”
He nodded yes but did not speak a word. She laughed.
“Where is your God? What has he given you?”
She stepped off of his restraints and stepped in front of him. He kept his chin up and his eyes on hers as he replied in a stutter, tear bearing proclamation…
“Do you know what my Lord has given me? He gave me the innocence of a child. I often don’t know what time it is. I sometimes don’t know what today is. I don’t feel alone though, because my God walks with me. If God is with me, then who? Who could be against me.”
“Go on, she said with a smile.” the conversation intrigued her.
The man nodded and smiled just a bit from the strength drawn from his own faith. He continued, “I have something in common with God’s son as well. Would you like to know what that is?” his old man voice was weak and feeble. Her eyes fixed on him with intensity, she nodded, and he mumbled out, “Like Jesus Christ himself, all the people I have ever cared for or loved have forsaken me.” “
The woman clinched the two spikes she had in her hair in one vengeful hand. She put the sharp tips to his throat and nudged his head up towards the sky. The light of the moon lamp weakened his eyes and he shut them.
The woman replied, “So you don’t know when or where you are, and nobody likes you? Open your eyes, old man. Look into the moonlight. You will see where you are and when it is the day, you will have met true power.”
The old man, lost for words, opened his eyes. He looked at her beauty and felt no pain. He saw her empty hand pushing keys on a piano that was not there. Though there was no piano, he heard a cryptic piano song of dark magic.
“How?” was the only word he could conjure. She stopped the song with a closed fist and with the spike cut deep into his face, just below his left eye. Blood poured out and the twines that bound his hands and feet were now so tight that they were beneath his skin. His eyeball dropped out of its socket, spilling juices only meant to be held inside the skeleton. He passed out from pain and loss of blood.
With a smile she grabbed his eye that hung down by chords of flesh and squeezed it till it was broken jelly in her palm.
“Now you know power old man. Where is your God now?”
With those words, she popped the two spikes deep into his Adam’s apple.
“Sliced is the fruit given to you by God!” she said.
The old man gagged as he drowned in his own blood, face disfigured and body torn apart by the evil that was, The Woman.
As the old man’s body fell limp in front of her, the woman reached her hand under the blood fall, below where her hair spikes poked out of the old man’s corpse.
She took two palms filled with blood and threw them up at the moonlight. The blood stuck in the form of a cross and the horizontal bar of the cross fell just a bit. The deep burgundy of blood dripped down to the floor in the same shape it took upon the moon’s pale light. Another pure soul gone meant nothing to most people. In the grand scheme of things, though, it meant a small percentage of evil was now more prominent. No humans were aware of the percentages of good and evil, but the world was nearing a ratio that it may not be able to overcome. War was nearing.
*****
The man was tall and slender with jet black hair which was slicked back. He wore a top hat and a monocle over his right eye. Eyes that were dark and sullen as if he bore no soul. The man was dressed in all black. He strolled down the long corridor with an unsettling confidence for a man who was about to face the Council of Doom. Especially a man who had failed in this mission once before.
Behind the man was his brood of nine seductresses, all dressed in long low cut elegant black gowns. They were vampires who had been with this man since the beginning of days, and vowed long ago to never leave his side, as if they were permanently attached. Nosferati with her long flowing golden blond hair. She had been with this man the longest and was the first to fall under his spell so many years ago. She usually walked in front of the other women. Often times she walked side by side with the man, as she was his oldest confidant. But on this day, she walked behind him. They walked behind the man as they approached the large wooden cracked door and opened it. Inside the room there was a large rectangular purple table that let off a strange glow in the large candle lit room. The man snapped his fingers, and his brood took their place behind him against the wall, all lined up in a row, Nosferati stood in front of the other women. They lowered their heads in unison and clasped their hands together. The man took a seat, removed his top hat, and then placed it on the table as he waited for the others to arrive.
The large wooden door ignited, becoming engulfed in flames and the demon prince Asmodeus walked through it followed by his brothers Abaddon, Mammon, and Leviathan. They were the princes of hell, each representing a deadly sin. Asmodeus, The Prince of Lust fed off of the desires of mankind he was tall, muscular with purple scales and a white mo-hawk. Abaddon, the Prince of Greed, had skin of gold and wore a golden tuxedo. Mammon the prince of envy with green scales and hair composed of snakes. Finally, there was Leviathan the Prince of Wrath, a beast similar to a wolf or dog but he walked up right like a human, with black fur and large horns upon his head. He was Satan’s first-born son and the heir to the throne.
Next through the door was Diane, Satan’s personal assistant. Finally, the prince of darkness himself Satan entered through the portal of fire. With his blood-red skin and darkness in his eyes, massive horns, and the thick hairy legs of a goat. They all took their respective seats at the table.
Asmodeus took the seat next to the man he sat on his right side, winked and blew a kiss towards the man’s brood. Satan sat directly across from the man and his other two sons flanked him, Leviathan to his right and Abaddon to his left. Diane stood right behind Satan watchfully stalking the room with her blood-red eyes.
The man took a golden cigarette case from his shirt pocket. He removed a cigarette and placed it in his mouth, then he raised his index finger to the tip of the cigarette. His finger was surrounded by a purple flame that he used to light it. He took a long inhale and blew out a cloud of smoke.
“As you know gentleman the time of the red moon grows near, and it is time to prepare for war. The world fuels us with its greed, lust, and envy. Hatred makes us all grow stronger every day. I have a plan…a way to end this war and return you to your rightful throne in heaven my dark lord.”
The man snapped his fingers and Nosferati removed a cross from her cleavage. She brought the item to the man and presented it to him. He nodded and she placed it in the middle of the table. Diane hissed at the object, but Satan raised his hand and she returned to a calm state. He looked down at the cross and then back at the man and spoke.
“A trinket? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me! How dare you call a council meeting and present us with such nonsense. I expect more from you. What does this have to do with anything?”
The man whistled, then Nosferati nodded to her right, and two of the women grabbed a woman standing in between them. She struggled and in the process her hood was removed revealing a woman in her mid to late twenties with a freckled face and brown hair She wasn’t a vampire, just one of the man’s several human handmaids, and her face beamed with the innocence of an elementary school teacher. The women forced the handmaid to stand next to the man, then one of them kicked her in the back of the knee forcing her to kneel beside him. He caressed the side of her face.
“Gentleman this is Sharon, a human, an innocent.”
The man snapped his fingers once again, and one of the women brought him a dagger, another a gold chalice. The woman with the chalice handed it to the man placing it in his right hand which he held gently resting on Sharon’s collarbone. She was crying and pleading with the man, but her cries fell upon deaf ears. The man nodded and the woman with the dagger slit Sharon’s throat. The blood trickled out slowly filling the man’s chalice with blood. When the cup filled the two women dragged Sharon’s body away. The man took a drink and set his cup on the table. The horizontal bar on the cross fell ever so slightly.
Satan asked, “So what exactly are you getting at here, you killed a woman so what?”
The man replied.
“My apologies for the theatrics gentleman, I simply desired a drink. I have a weapon that cannot be revealed…at least not right now. I’ve had a vision, but the puzzle is not yet complete. We need pure evil from the depths of hell to spill the blood of an innocent on the next full moon. Then and only then can this weapon be unleashed”
Satan stroked his chin with his thumb and forefinger pondering if he should trust the man. Satan was betrayed by the man once before. But knew in his black heart that what the man said was true. Satan had his doubts, but wanted to reclaim his place in heaven, and if it didn’t work out, he would simply kill the man. There was no harm in running with the monocled man’s plan, so he declared.
“I will have my son Abaddon travel to the realm of men to carry out this task… he will spill the blood of a thousand innocents!”
The man took another deep inhale from his cigarette.
“To win this war we don’t need the blood of a thousand innocents. To win this war, you are going to have to kill a priest. Not just any priest. You need to kill Father Rahm.”
Satan nodded at Abaddon and the nod was returned. He now focused his attention on the man and spoke.
“You truly are the Father of Nothing.”
(To be continued)
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