Bloodlust Chapter 1

Bloodlust

By

Matt McGuire

Chapter 1

Gabriel was starving. He hadn't had his fix today, and being a member of the Dominatus sect he had to be selective. Blondes. Tall Blondes. Blondes with money and Mecedes's. That was what he craved: the scent of expensive perfume on a milky white neck pulsing with the nectar of the Gods that had sustained him for seventeen centuries as a vampire.

Gabriel's story was a legend among the vampires of the New World, or the United States as the shivering denizens of this mad realm called it these days. He had been "made" during the reign of Constantine, in the Old Empire. The coming of Christianity to the Western World had coincided with his descent into the demonic realm of the Vampire. Gabriel's sire had been a concubine in the court of Diocletian. Gabriel, or any of the fifteen other alias's he had gone by over the centuries, had been a common slave in the palace of Diocletian, the emperor of the Western World during the latter half of the 3rd Century A.D., in the palace at Nicomedia. Gabriel was of Hebrew ancestry, and still had the look of a young, Middle-Eastern man thanks to the surreal effect that the blood of the ages had had on his body. Gabriel had come from Judea as a slave. His parents had been Nazarenes (the first Christian sect), and had raised him as a Messianic (or Christian) Jew. This accounted for several choices that Gabriel made later in his life, as we shall see.

Down over the centuries Gabriel had drunk the blood of only attractive, wealthy females, as was the bond set on him by the ancient whore that was his sire, Zenobia.

Here in New Amsterdam, or New York as it was known in the modern age, Gabriel was a king. He had come to the New World with the puritans on the Mayflower.

He had masqueraded as a Calvinist Minister, staunch and unwavering in his zeal for the Holy Trinity. Gabriel couldn't resist the rich irony that role had brought to his otherworldly existence. He had unflinchingly faced the trials of the New World, and had astonished his parishioners with his amazing feats of strength and endurance, contributing them to "Miracles of the Lord", all the while knowing it was the dark power of Cain that had enabled him to accomplish such things. He had relished with TRUE zeal drinking the blood of the young maidens in the settlement, as well as his "Missionary" forays into the wild to quench his thirst with the blood of the surrounding savages. Gabriel had played the part of several different clergymen in his long lifetime, but he hadn’t practiced his chosen profession for a hundred years now. Gabriel had spurned the sheep of the God of Abraham, and considered them to be growing constantly weaker and less adherent to the true teachings of their Lord. He held reverence for God only now, but he still attended mass on an infrequent basis. He had gone underground though, and he preferred to stay that way.

Tonight, Gabriel was looking for someone special. The woman he was looking for was one that had crossed his path at a local discoteque one night when he was on the hunt. Gabriel had her marked as a possible candidate for the “gift”. The “gift” was what vampires called their demonic blood bond. The “gift” of hungering for the blood of the innocent for the rest of their time spent on earth.

Gabriel needed to drink before he caught up with his blonde. He hadn’t drunk in about 5 days, and if he met the woman he was seeking, he might drain her dry before she had a chance to respond to his query.

Gabriel stalked, almost floated through the crowd in Times Square, shading his ancient eyes from the glare of the obnoxious neon and LCD signs overhead, paragons of bad taste and low breeding. Gabriel's black, Strega shades blended in well with his black, silk single breasted suit and his black, custom made Italian loafers. The only white he had on was a silk
button down shirt, but it was hidden mostly by his black Saville Row top coat. Glancing at his Rolex Submariner Chronograph, Gabriel could see that he only had a couple of hours to go before he had to return to his haunt; a Nineteenth Century Victorian mansion in the East Hampdens.
Blonde. The honey glint of hues perfected and natural. He caught sight of her in his primordial periphereal vision. Turning to face her, his canines started to tingle, growing a full three inches. He felt a burning that started in his groin and started, like wildfire, to engulf his whole being.

Tunnel vision. Focusing intently on her, he moved like a cat behind her. Silently, swiftly catching up to her, he closed in for the kill.
Grasping her hand in between his large, powerful, fingers, he drew her into the alleyway.

"Motherfucker, what's your goddam problem?" screamed in an altogether too manly voice was what Gabriel heard as he dragged the blonde figure into the nearby alleyway. Fuck! It wasn't even a woman he was clutching. It was an expensively dressed male prostitute instead. Swiftly breaking the transvestite's neck, Gabriel dropped the body where he stood. Cursing himself for his elite taste and unwavering standards in victims, Gabriel sauntered out of the alleyway and headed back down Broadway. Scanning the crowd for a suitable victim, Gabriel intently gazed at a couple hailing down a cab. He would have to settle for an elegant Asian girl, standing with her redheaded, lesbian lover about a block ahead of him. She had her small, supple right hand in the air, expectantly waving down her transportation. With lightning fast reflexes, Gabriel suddenly was there behind them.

"Hello, ladies" said Gabriel as he snuck into the cab with them.

"Who the fuck are you?" breathed the soft, young Asian girl as Gabriel leaned over and sunk his teeth into her rapidly pulsating jugular. Draining the girl of all life's blood in a matter of seconds, Gabriel shifted her lifeless body to one side and grasped the stunned and speechless auburn-haired lass in his arms. Exiting the cab, Gabriel left a thousand dollar bill on the seat for the irate and screaming Iranian cab driver.
Muffled screams were all that the redheaded could get out. Strong arming the young lady into a nearby alleyway, Gabriel took off his Gargoyles and looked deep into her eyes, almost into her soul.

Domination was one of a Dominati’s best attributes. Hence, the name Dominati, or the "blue bloods" as the lower races of Vampires called them. The Dominati were an elite sect of the vampire race reserved only for either very ancient vampires, or very wealthy ones. Dominatis almost always had extreme wealth or power, and usually a combination of the two.

Always very beautiful and super intelligent, clan Dominatus ruled the Nightlife in big cities of first-world countries like the United States, France, and Britain. They were bound by a blood oath though, only to drink from a certain segment of the population. In Gabriel's case, his victims had to be VERY attractive, and young females. The redhead in Gabriel's clutches at this moment didn't meet his specifications though; that's why he had decided to Dominate her. Domination was the ancient art of instilling extreme fear into a victim, followed by strict orders for the service of the victim's new master, in this case Gabriel.
"I want you to find a certain woman for me, my pet. She is about six feet tall, has Blonde hair, wears very expensive designer clothes and frequents "the Serpentinata". Are you familiar with that club?"

"Yes. I go there with my friends sometimes." replied the young redhead in a deathly cold, monotone voice.

"Good. What is your name?" replied Gabriel in a subtly authoritative tone.

"Megan."

"Alright, Megan, find me this delicacy, and you will be handsomely rewarded."

Staring into her eyes with all the intensity that became a seventeen-hundred year old monster, Gabriel let Megan go, and disappeared into the shadows.

Back in his richly furnished Victorian, Gabriel couldn't help thinking of the red head whom he had sent on his mission of lust that evening.
Self-loathing was an emotion not foreign to Gabriel, and tonight he felt it in its full capacity. Why did he continue to live this life of the damned? He had asked himself that question thousands of times over the centuries, and invariably he came up with the same answer: to find him. The man or "being" that Gabriel was referring to was none other than the creature who had started this damnable way of life some 12,000 years ago. Cain. The first murderer, and the reason that Gabriel still haunted the streets of New York and other cities like it. He had to find this creature and put an end to the struggle for blood that he and thousands of other vampires around the world were caught up in.
If he could find Cain, wherever on this God forsaken planet that he was hiding, then Gabriel could put an end to his own suffering, as well as the suffering of the rest of his kind.
There was a sect that had prevented this since before he was enslaved as a vampire. It was called the Illuminati. The Illuminati was a coalition, or terrorist organization, of thoroughly evil vampires ruled by Cain himself. The Illuminati had been directly responsible for nearly ALL the tragedies perpetrated on mankind. Sure, you could watch CNN or Fox News, and they would tell you that Al-Qaeda or Hamas or the IRA had perpetrated heinous crimes against humanity, when in actuality all these organizations were Illuminati funded and managed. The American CIA, as well as half the intelligence agencies in Europe and Asia were contaminated heavily with Illuminati members. The American military, as well as the German, French, and British governments also contained many Illuminati members. Cain, the abomination of God, had formed the Illuminati after the accession to the throne of Constantine. He had formed it in response to Christianity’s institution as the state religion of the Western World. Through Satan, Cain had endowed the members of the Illuminati with special privileges and powers: powers for the iron rule and conquest of all mankind. Before the Illuminati was formed, Cain’s power was centralized in the midst of the despotic Persian court. With the ascendancy of Constantine however, he had had to clench his fist upon those loyal subjects of the Prince of Darkness that were his servants, and the emergence of the Illuminati was the result. Gabriel had escaped being “made” into the Illuminati by a matter of months, and he had paid the price for that non-admittance for almost two thousand years.

All this corruption and international intrigue disgusted Gabriel, although he had become quite adept at playing THEIR games.

5 AM. Gabriel would have to retire to the small set of catacombs underneath his mansion until darkness came again. Entering the sealed off bedroom where Gabriel slept the sleep of the damned, he thought once again about the poor girl that he had enslaved that evening. He couldn't get the image of her frightened face out of his head. Hurling a piece of priceless pottery from the bed stand at the wall, Gabriel let out a terrific moan, and sunk down on his gray silk comforter to rest. No fucking coffin for him. Coffins were just bullshit Hollywood stereotypes anyway.
As Gabriel drifted off into his comatose state, he wondered if the girl Megan would actually find the tall, voluptuous blonde that he was so desperately seeking. Oh, well, that would have to wait for tomorrow night.