The Thing in the Dark to Fear

Chapter 4

Maxwell had a great deal of information coming in. His masters’ brother had been decapitated. When he learned this, Maxwell trembled and feared his master’s reaction. He had personally interviewed the young woman present at the time of the killing. Her escort, a young man, had seen nothing, and could not be tracked down. Apparently he had been just visiting the area. The young woman, on the other hand, had been so terrified and traumatized that she had been put on medication.
“No one believes me anyway,” she slowly drawled through a drug-induced calm. Her lids were heavy, her eyes were glassy, but the robe with which she covered her pajamas could not hide her voluptuousness. Her dark hair and light skin highlighted her blue eyes. The propensity of the Blood Relatives to prey on the youngest and healthiest adults both amused and saddened Max. That could be a weakness, he thought.
She talked of the little wooden bolt shot into her shoulder. It had hit the handsome gentleman in his teeth. He was about to kiss her, when it all went wrong. There was a huge dog that had jumped up on her, and then there was a spear driven into his chest, and a machete used to remove his head. She had told the story several times for both the police and a psychiatrist. She volunteered a great deal of information with out being prompted, beyond the opening, “Can you tell me about the events of last Saturday night?”
“The man was wearing camouflage,” said Linda. “You know, dressed like a hunter. Not like an Army guy.”
“What do you mean like a Hunter?” Max was very curious about that.
“You know,” Linda let her eyes search upward, as if to help her memory by avoiding the distraction of other beings, “covered from head to toe, like a leafy bush. I always thought that stuff was silly, but he was very close and came out of nowhere. Then he was gone in a second. He didn’t run, he just melted into the trees.”
Max nodded to indicate he was following her words. “So, Linda, it could have been a woman, since you didn’t see the person?”
“Oh no, it was a man.” Linda smiled as if the retelling of her tale amused her to the point that patronizing an often-condescending audience had become blase'. “I heard him whisper something. I didn’t catch any of it, I just know it was a man’s voice.”
Pleased with her cooperation, Max offered his condolences for the trauma, and his appreciation for her time. He gave her the $1,000 he promised for the interview, reminded her not to discuss the matter with any other magazines, and hurried out.
Opening his umbrella against the light drizzle, he contemplated the information. Erik was not dispatched in his sleep, nor was he caught in the sunlight by some careless act or twist of fate. He had been dispatched at night, in the woods, in the middle of an attack. Of that much Max was certain. It sounded so much like the work of another Vampire. Yet Alfons, and his siblings, were the most powerful and wise Vampires on Earth. It was shocking to even think another Vampire could accomplish such a thing. Yet this was the second sibling his master had lost in as many years. This was a pattern that did not bode well.
Max looked out the window of the taxi. It was an entirely unpleasant rainy day. Palms of tropical trees waived in the breeze, the movement muted under the burden of shedding raindrops. For all its natural beauty, southern Florida was not a place Max would want to live. He had traveled broadly, and Max always found the isolated locations of little populace were most likely to call to his heart. Yes, the spring flowers perfumed the air, but Max always considered people as his largest threat. The flight back would be long enough to get a good rest, and catch up on some reading.
Max was his masters’ keeper; he had resigned himself to his fate. He had a family, and they prospered handsomely due to his arrangement with his Master. Alfons was Max’s mentor in many matters and at times his closest companion. Max had grown to love and hate his master with equal conviction. Betrayal reflected a lack of character, and Max had never been a man lacking the strength of his convictions. This was doubly easy as Max had always been of the opinion that betrayal was among the greatest of sins. Even in the secrets of his heart, he was well beyond the age where his loyalties conflicted with or otherwise opposed his self-preservation.
This devotion to duty both thrilled and terrified Max. Lord Alfons had given up servants before, to save his own skin. However, he always made it up to their families, and for generations. Max spent a good deal of time distributing the Master’s monetary reparations, anonymously. The Master did this out of wisdom, for Max always knew he would gladly lay down his life, not just for the sake of loyalty to Alfons but for the sake of his family.
Max was a fit man. Healthy and full of life. A master swordsman, marksman, and martial artist. These things he learned from a cruel master, and he bore the scars of it. Alfons insisted that Max stay sharp, for if he could not defend himself, how could he defend the Master. If Max allowed his Master to perish, Alfons’ Sister, Anna, would see to it that Maxwell’s life was forfeit. In and of itself this was not the worst; his family would loose all protection and become targeted for destruction. In life, progeny are of the utmost importance.
Max had much to tell the Master.