Manifestation of a Monster
After Milo had been dormant for over 150 years, awakens only to find out how rapidly the world has changed. After waking up in a morgue, he learns he is no longer able to stomach on blood. Not only that, but he has no one to turn to for support. Time was not on his side, and in a quick decision grabs the first person he could find. Hoping that this person could give him insight into what the world had become. This goes horribly wrong with his misunderstanding that tattoos are now worn by more than social outcasts. Leading to him turning a vegan, dooming them both.
Right when he believes things can't get any worse, his history resurfaces in the shape of an Egyptian deity from long ago. Getting their power from an unknown sect of people wearing black hoods. Unaware of their plans or what this means for the world as a whole. There is no telling what will happen if they succeed.
Read Chapter 1 from the story Manifestation of a Monster (Warm-Blooded Vampires) by Gaz042 (Gaz R Galey) with 32 reads...
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When he came to, being almost killed was the last thing he recalled. He had the Necrobeast's blood coursing through his veins. Because of his slow pace, the toxin could have been removed before it reached his heart.
His survival that day landed solely on the fact that he had not drunk from a human for a few weeks. It wasn’t something every one of their kind could do. For him, it comes down to discipline and tea. A small amount of blood was added to sustain his existence. Not quite the same as drinking from a fresh body. But it kept his heart moving just enough to function between feedings.
He didn’t refrain from the kill for any moral dilemma. His kind needed it to live, after all. Something he came to terms with millennia before now. The tea he made would get him through the weeks he didn’t eat. Sustaining his heartbeat by about 15 beats per minute. A few people in his life would ask if he did this so that he would have to kill less. He would never answer them. But if he were to, it would be something along the lines, Don’t be ridiculous, what do their lives matter to me?
His reason was simply that he enjoyed the adrenaline in his veins, matching the adrenaline in his victims. The feel of the blood coursing through his own nearly vacant veins. The blood crashed through his system like an unexpected storm. Renewing everything all at once. His reward for keeping up such a rigid structure in his everyday life.
That familiar feeling stirred through him as he awakened from the deep sleep he had been in. But the refreshing feeling he so longed for wasn’t there. Replaced with a sharp pain. The liquid coursing through his body cut through his veins. The more he awakened, the more unbearable it became. His eyes stung and his mouth ached when he tried to speak.
He wouldn’t panic, though there was much that could have gone wrong. The black blood had not killed him. Or perhaps he had killed him. He had only experienced the black blood once. They must have put him in a permo-sleep. But for how long, now that was the question. He did not know how long it would have taken for his body to heal.
He’d gone to sleep in the catacombs, a sanctuary for weakened or tired Kaw-Sekhmu, who needed more than a few hours of rest to recover. His kind typically needed only half the sleep required by a human, but there were times at which a Ka-Sekhm would require much, much more. When one grew bored with life itself and wanted to sleep through to another era—or, as in his case, when one was so badly hurt that the only thing that could save them was to rest until the body recuperated. They could spend decades or centuries resting in one of the glass coffins that filled the walls of their family mausoleum. Only a select few Kaw-Sekhmu knew the true location of the catacombs. And no other creature was permitted anywhere near. Something terrible must have happened.
He could hear a faint voice, no two. Two people were talking. He didn’t recognize them.
“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow!” A soft woman’s voice came from across the room, calling out to someone as she drew nearer. She felt human, the heaviness of her steps, the way she breathed. His kind still could breathe, but it was much quieter, and mostly only did so when it was necessary, and in most cases, it wasn’t. Speaking, eating, drinking, extra.
As he got more feeling in his body, he became aware he wasn’t wearing any clothes. A sure sign that things were truly dire. A thin, cheap blanket draped over his entire body. That was when he noticed the sharp pain in his neck. Pumping something other than blood into his body. A strong chemical smell insulted his nostrils.
He could hear the woman sigh as she lifted the blanket from around his ankles. “It clotted again. Why does this keep happening?” as she said this, he felt a prick in his ankle. Blood poured out, then drip, then. “Damn it. I’m going to be here all night because of you. What is going on with you?” She pricked his ankle one more time, and once more, the same thing happened.
Then it happened, as if in a realization, something clicked. He felt the panic wash over her before she did or said anything. She cursed to herself, pulling whatever it was out of his neck. Raising across the room, then back at his side. Pulling the blankets off, he could feel something cold against his chest as she sighed. The panic subsided within her. “Don’t be stupid, why would he…” He could feel her weight on his chest. “What is with your blood?” She asked before cutting into his collar, plunging the tube back into his neck.
Still unable to move. To tell her he indeed had not been “dead” but merely sleeping when he heard a small click. Before he could question it, music played. This was the first clue that things had changed in the world. Things lingered. Clothes, music, culture. Only really became apparent when there were enormous gaps. This music eluded him. He could tell there was only one person in the room with him. And yet, multiple voices and instruments echoed through the room.
He would just have to find out. Focusing all his attention, he performed a trick he was quite good at. One moment, his vision was dark. The next he could see the room through her eyes. A room of metal. Try as he might, he couldn’t see where the music was coming from. She was the only one in the room.
Next to him were two tables. White blankets covering them. He wondered if the people under them were as dead as he was. That is to say, not at all. Pain shot his arm as she moved it. She did this for a few minutes until she was called out of the room by another strange sound. Milo could move his fingers, finally able to examine what was under his eyelids. Slowly removing a substance that held his lids shut and then removing the pointed disks underneath. Then moved to his mouth where he found a thin, but strong piece of thread that held his jaw in place.
As he set up, his stomach lurched as he saw the frightened look on the women’s face. A plastic visor over her head, paper clothes that couldn’t have protected from any elements. What was the weather like in this time period? He truly hoped this was not meant to be the fashion of the time.
He took pride in being able to blend in with the high society of any place he had gone. But he couldn’t ever wear that. He would much sooner go back into the ground for another 100 years than be caught wearing something that despicable.
But his thoughts were quickly brought back to the present, to a slack-jawed woman. “But, but…..How.” Her eyes grew wide with a shaking hand pointed his way. “I checked, I…” The confusion melted away, replaced with fear as she scrambled to pick up the metal box she dropped. “I’ll call.” Her fingers hovered over the screen. “Who do I call when? I thought you were dead.” Her voice was small and shaky.
“No need to get anyone else.” He said in a smooth voice. He had pulled himself up, his legs dangling from the table, the blanket draped around his lap. “It appears I’m naked. You don’t happen to know where my clothes are, my dear?”
Her finger slowly pointed to a bag that held his clothes. As she began to quickly ramble about how they would have normally just cut the clothes off. But they had been far too nice. This caused quite a stir among everyone at the morgue. The clothes would suggest he had money, but why was he found in a ditch with no ID. Homeless, actor, eccentric billionaire.
“Do you mind?” Milo interrupted her ramblings, nodding to the pile of clothes. Hoping to get the girl to stop talking. “I’m having a hard time moving. Would you be a dear and aid me? It’s the least you could do, after attempting to embalm me.”
Moments later, she was fixing the last button on his jacket, mumbling that this couldn’t be happening the whole time. When he placed a hand on her cheek. “Look at me. You have nothing to fear.” As she did, her body became weak. All her worries seemed to melt away. And the events of that night were no longer a mystery.
“I didn’t think vampires were real.” Answering a question that was never asked.
“What makes you think that’s what I am?” Milo asked. Normally, he would hate being called something as low as a vampire. He was something far superior. Any self-respecting Ka-Sekhm would never allow someone to mistake them for the loathsome Netopuri, the monsters that most refer to as the vampire.
But with all that was going on, he let himself find amusement in this. “Vampire, you say? No, not a vampire. I can walk in the sun, I can be seen in silver, and I have a heartbeat.”
“Your accent?” She said in a daze. “It’s so strange. European, old English?”
As he spoke, he reached for her hand, placing it onto his chest. Her hand was warm against his cold skin. The small twitches in her hand, her body trying to tell her to run away, were only known to Milo. At first, there was no heartbeat. Then there it was. Budump. A few more seconds passed before a second budump.
“This is just as unpleasant for me as it is for you. I would much prefer it to be beating faster than this.” Milo’s words were slow and soothing. Giving the girl more reason to relax.
“Is there a way you can do that? Make your heart beat faster, that is?” she asked, forgetting her fear. More fascinated by whatever was going on than what he could mean.
“It’s very simple.” She didn’t notice the wicked grin that grew on his face. “And you can help me.” She looked up at him, about to ask what she could do, when she noticed his teeth. His canines were much larger. Split in two, gadget. All at once, she knew how he would restore his heart.
At that same moment, a dread that she had never felt before rushed through her as she tried to pull away. His smile was unchanged by her attempt to get away. Delighting in her struggle. A moment later, his teeth were in her neck.
Taking all he could and then some. He let her fall, dry meat collapsing in a heap that didn’t even warrant a glance from him. As he stepped over her. He gently looked under the blankets of others in the room. But neither was he. He didn’t have time to worry. Humans were, on a whole, not a threat. But he had no desire to stay when he was so blind at the moment.
Reaching for his top hat, he glided out of the room without a second glance. Stopping only once to clench his stomach as an unknown pain quickly went through him.
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