Man is a wolf to man.
And what is a vampire to another vampire?
From the reflections of a young vampire.
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Blade.
I chased that ghoul across the entire city for half the night, but the bastard escaped. I failed to find his daytime lair. He might as well have sunk into the earth. The black man spat irritably and returned to the temporary base. The Old Man was already waiting there—one of the very few people the hunter could call a friend and trust to guard his back. The powerfully built man, with a mane of gray hair and a face furrowed by scars and wrinkles, was tinkering with another lethal 'toy.' (After every fresh viewing of Lucas's films, the old hunter became obsessed with building a lightsaber. The enthusiasm lasted a month or two. Then the idea was declared absurd and technically impossible and placed in a distant drawer until the next viewing of 'Star Wars.')
"Back already? How did it go?"
The old man looked up from his work and at his student.
"I found our unusual bloodsucker."
"And?"
The hunter's mentor straightened attentively.
"And he got away from me. More precisely, he flew away."
"Flew away—from you? Levitation-capable vampires are rare and powerful, of course, but they haven't caused you major problems before."
"You don't understand. That son of a—FLIES," Blade nearly roared, separating the syllables. "He doesn't hover a pathetic fifteen feet above the ground. He moves through the sky fast and agilely, and he tears silver nets apart like paper. Half a magazine of Vanessa's poison only made him slightly unhappy!"
The young hunter continued boiling.
"Even their damned 'Blood God'—" What followed was untranslatable folklore involving the words 'insert,' 'sword,' 'ass,' and 'regeneration.' "—only needed two rounds!"
Blade paced nervously through the room.
"Calm down. We knew we were hunting a powerful creature. You can't take something like that by charging headfirst. We'll track the bastard methodically and find his lair. Here, take your serum. You don't look well."
The old man handed his student an ampoule containing dark red, almost black liquid. While the daytime nightmare of all vampires—or nearly all—administered his 'medicine,' his teacher considered the situation.
"Yes. Killing something like that will be difficult. Do you have any leads?"
The slayer grimaced at the extremely unpleasant sensation and shared his observations.
"I have one thought. My instincts reacted to a student. Incidentally, he strongly resembles that bloodsucker, but he seems human. Although..."
"Although what?"
The veteran sounded interested. Blade described his suspicions and the 'accidental collision.'
"Interesting," the veteran of the vampire wars said thoughtfully, stroking his chin. "Here's what we'll do. Invite that young man to visit us. I think we can learn a great deal from him. And if not, I suspect the vampire is interested in him, which means we'll have bait. Meanwhile, I'll see how your arsenal can be adjusted in light of this new information."
The hunter nodded and went outside. The old man yawned deeply and returned to work, sipping disgusting swill that, through some misunderstanding, bore—or rather impersonated—the proud name of 'coffee.' Unlike certain half-blood vampires, an ordinary human—such as the teacher of the number-one enemy of all vampirekind—required proper sleep and food. The veteran hunter could barely remember the last time he had slept normally. Now he had to perform sorcery over his student's weapons, prepare for the 'guest's' interrogation, and gather information about that guest. Fortunately, Blade had managed to photograph him, though the picture's quality could have been better. Doesn't matter. I'll rest in the next world. I don't have long to wait.' The old man did not lose his spirit even while knowing that cancer would soon finish destroying his already battered body.
Michael Morbius.
'Damned lunatic! Chasing me for hours! Me—a superior being! How dare he?'
Still, Michael had to admit the man was extraordinarily well equipped and maintained a pace impossible for an ordinary mortal. And that equipment... A sword across his back. Stakes on his belt. Bullets containing some vile substance. Michael did not like him. Perhaps he should create servants and let them deal with the problem. Every attempt to transform someone into a being like himself, however, ended in failure. Michael tried everything: repeated bites, transfusions of his own blood. Nothing worked. He had initially intended to transform Felicia immediately. That would have ended badly. Some test subjects remained human—the bitten ones. Others simply died. Injecting irradiated blood did not improve one's health. Not even slightly. Morbius was far from stupid, and his mind's extended vacation had not damaged his ability to reason, apart from moments when his inflated ego interfered with common sense.
The geneticist quickly put two and two together. He had transformed not merely because of irradiated blood, but because of freshly irradiated blood in which mutation processes had not yet ceased. Mayer had been using the laboratory emitter that day, judging by the voltage fluctuations. That monstrosity consumed a terrifying amount of power, though that was beside the point. Therefore, transforming another being would require not only blood as a DNA template, but Connors's emitter to alter the rest of the organism's genome according to his pattern. A pleasant female voice drew the student from his thoughts.
"Good night, messire. We are pleased to welcome you to our nest." A very attractive mixed-race woman who appeared around twenty smiled sweetly, revealing sharp white fangs. "Your strength and resilience impressed us. Very few have escaped the Hunter alive. But please, come with me. Dawn is near, and your daytime refuge may no longer be secure."
Michael considered. He had not imagined that true vampires existed in the world. Being the first of the Children of the Night, founder of a bloodline—oh, that would have flattered his vanity immensely. On the other hand, if the world contained people who climbed walls and shot webs, ran across rooftops with poisonous stingers attached to their backsides, or possessed a couple of 'extra' mechanical limbs, why should vampires not exist?
Still, following an unknown vampire to an unknown place... What could she do to him? Morbius sensed clearly that he was much stronger than the young woman. Nor did he fear becoming human inside a vampire lair. His human half awakened only when direct sunlight touched his body. Entering a dark room immediately restored his true self instead of that pathetic little human. He made his decision.
"Very well. Lead the way. While we walk, tell me about this 'Hunter.'"
"As you wish. His name is Blade, and he is half-human, half-vampire. It is strange that you have never heard of him..." His companion sounded surprised.
"I... slept for a very long time," the student improvised.
He noticed that after those words, his companion's expression changed slightly and her posture became more alert. The bloodsuckers disappeared into a dark passage.
Walter Mayer.
We rose closer to noon. No, Felicia had awakened much earlier, but I still possessed supplies from the pharmacy, and we decided it would be wrong to let them go to waste. Our separation from the bed was therefore postponed somewhat. Doesn't matter.
While the young woman put herself in order in the bathroom (I strongly wanted to join her and scrub her back; you understand) I attempted to arrange breakfast. Well. Navigating another person's kitchen was difficult, especially when one remembered my culinary talents—or their complete absence. Still, I managed to slice sandwiches and brew coffee. I considered preparing the classic meal of every bachelor, fried eggs, but failed to find any eggs.
When the young woman emerged from the bathroom, I faced another test of willpower: damp hair and a thin robe over a naked body. No. She was definitely tormenting me. Mrrr. We rapidly disposed of the simple breakfast.
Until evening, we simply enjoyed each other's company, watching films and discussing recent news. I took pleasure in the mere fact of this young woman's presence in my life. A couple of interesting topics surfaced during the conversation. Felicia made several casual attempts to learn details about my family. I carefully avoided her questions while casually asking about her memories of her father. Judging by indirect reactions, she did not know precisely who he had been or what had happened to him. She was convinced, however, that her father remained alive and was hiding for some reason.
How much the young woman learned about me, I could not tell. I suspected we had ended the first round in a draw. It seemed we had discovered a new and entertaining game called 'Expose Him or Her While Revealing Nothing About Yourself.' Both of us enjoyed it enormously. Entire crowds of little devils danced in Felicia's eyes, and something glittered in mine as well. Yes. The cockroaches in my head were setting off fireworks.
The day began turning toward evening, and I was forced to leave Miss Hardy. We had university tomorrow. The young woman needed proper sleep; she was already beginning to nod off. I also had to help Connors torment students. I understood Doc's sadistic tendencies better every day. Definitely one of us. After saying goodbye to my beloved, I went outside.
Oh. Who was that irritated individual circling near the building? It's our exterminator of mosquitoes and other blood-drinking creatures. Had he been sitting there since last night? I should have checked. At the time, however, I had been occupied with considerably more pleasant matters than monitoring the surrounding area. My paranoia was outraged. What did he want here? Perhaps I should walk over and ask rather than pretending ignorance—'I wasn't there, I know nothing, and the horse isn't mine.'
Huh. I was drunk! But how? Then realization reached my intoxicated brain. The hormonal storm that had swept through my organism during my... mm... close communication with Felicia—very close—had intoxicated symbiote-me. What an interesting side effect. Meanwhile, my internal radar reported that Blade was following quietly behind me. I chose a route home through the park, suspecting our vampire hunter of unpleasant intentions such as kidnapping.
Few people visited the park on Sunday evenings, and it contained plenty of deserted paths. While I crossed one such path, humanity's valiant defender rapidly closed the distance and delivered a precisely measured blow to the back of my head. Hey. He could have knocked out what little brain I had left. Damn, that hurt. After mentally promising terrible revenge, I imitated unconsciousness.
It seemed I had inherited my beloved's karma. I had been kidnapped in the most shameless manner. Vengefully switching off self-levitation, I observed the hunter curse through clenched teeth as he carried my suddenly heavier 'unconscious' body across his shoulders. About forty minutes later, he finally delivered me and dropped me onto the floor with great relief and very little care.
"You brought him?"
Oh. There was the old man. Hm. He resembled his film version closely—or perhaps the film version resembled him. What difference did it make?
"As you can see," Blade answered tiredly and irritably. "Damn it, this kid weighs as much as two large men."
Liar. Only one and a half, and not especially large ones. Compared with Kingpin, I was practically a feather.
"Does he? Never mind. Check his pockets. He resembles the photograph in the file."
Interesting. Where had they acquired my personal file? Bought it from a street corner?
They searched me without ceremony and relieved me of my wallet, identification papers, and mobile phone containing my music. For their sake, I hoped I would later find not a single scratch on it. Otherwise, unlike Hobgoblin, this pair would not escape so easily. Several minutes later.
"Yes, this is him—Walter Mayer. If the gathered information isn't fabricated: twenty-three, mother died giving birth, father unknown. More precisely, our source has no information about him. Does that remind you of anything?"
"You know as well as I do that a vampire can produce offspring only with another vampire or through transformation," the irritated hunter answered.
It seemed his Thirst was causing trouble. Or perhaps he was simply having a bad day.
"Right. And until recently, we also 'knew' vampires couldn't tolerate silver or Vanessa's poison, and certainly couldn't fly," the veteran replied sarcastically.
"You think...?"
"Do you have another explanation? Nothing is known about his father. He resembles the ghoul. You sense vampire blood in him, though weakly. The creature is interested in him, and then there's that collision. Fine. It isn't especially important. Let's wake our sleeping beauty."
No. Did they believe I was Michael's son? Incredible beyond belief, as one literary character liked to say. And yet everything fit remarkably well. I would find the little human who had so casually sold them information about me. Then we would have a heart-to-heart conversation.
Time for another performance. I opened my eyes, rose to my feet, and smiled with all thirty-two teeth. Blade frozen in place with a bucket of less-than-clean water was an extremely entertaining sight. To the hunter's credit, he recovered quickly and immediately reached for his katana.
"You know, gentlemen, knocking out peaceful pedestrians and dragging them into a frightening basement is not the finest way to begin a constructive conversation. Although your little discussion was quite interesting."
Blade had begun drawing his piece of metal, but the old man stopped his hot-blooded African colleague.
"You recovered quickly, don't fear light, weigh a great deal, and feel faintly like a vampire. So what are you?"
"Mm. Would you care to introduce yourselves first? Polite people generally do that."
Smile and wave. Once again, the old man restrained his younger colleague.
"We're hunters... of bloodsuckers. I'm Rick, and this hot-tempered young man is Blade. Now will you tell us who you are?"
"Walter Mayer, at your service. I'm a mutant. Have you heard of those?"
"Yes. Though mutants come in many varieties. The fact that you don't wear skin-tight spandex already speaks in your favor."
I was beginning to like the old man. He had a good sense of humor.
"I am deeply grateful for such a flattering assessment. Now that we're conversing so pleasantly, could you return my belongings and explain what the hell you wanted from me badly enough to use such crude methods?"
I received no apology, but at least they returned my things. Better than nothing.
"Have you heard about the recent attacks on people?" the principal exterminator of blood-drinking creatures joined the conversation.
"Um... I have. But what does that have to do with me?" I asked carefully.
"As if you don't know." Our gloomy hunter was overflowing with speech today.
I wondered whether they had agreed on this routine in advance or were improvising. Probably the latter. I would eat my coat in admiration of Rick's foresight if he had anticipated this variation too.
"You resemble the creature strongly. He's clearly interested in you. Care to explain why?"
"Blade!"
What a roar. As Comrade Stanislavski used to say: I believe it. Though as a Symbiote, I had to note that they could roar until they turned green. Their emotions said something entirely different. Fine. I would pretend I was bursting with eagerness to help. I thought for a moment.
"What did this 'creature' look like?" I asked with mild interest.
"Here. See for yourself."
They handed me a photograph. The quality was mediocre, but Michael was still recognizable with some difficulty: sharpened, openly predatory features, red-glowing eyes, white fangs. A handsome fellow, in other words.
"Michael? Well, well."
"You know him?"
The hunter's ears practically stood upright.
"Yes. He's in my year. He stopped attending classes around a week ago. In fact, I don't think anyone has seen him during the day..."
Then I muttered quietly:
"Could he really have decided to experiment with that blood?"
"What blood?"
So much suspicion.
"Did I say that aloud?"
I made an unhappy expression.
"Fine. Listen. It began when a mutant acquaintance of mine, who had certain evolutionary problems, asked for help curing the condition. Before you ask: no, he didn't attack passersby with fangs. I'm a geneticist by specialization and agreed to help. I took blood samples for analysis and even performed several tests. Then someone broke into the laboratory and stole them. A couple of days later, Michael disappeared from the university completely. Though he'd been acting strangely even before that."
I recalled the incident involving 'glitter.' Forgive me, Morbius, but you would become my scapegoat. Then I launched into an account of my classmate's 'peculiarities,' including rumors about missing people. The hunters listened very attentively, occasionally exchanging quiet words or nodding at their own conclusions. Then they summed everything up. Almost correctly.
"So you're saying that because of your experiments, either a potential vampire or an ordinary one transformed into THAT?"
It seemed the Morpheus impersonator could think in only one direction.
"No," I answered irritably. "My research was aimed at reversing evolution. It would be more likely to turn a vampire into an ordinary human. What Michael did with those samples, I have no idea."
Whew. They seemed to believe me. They continued extracting details for quite some time, but the main objective had been achieved. Their thoughts now moved in the correct direction: I could help them with the Serum, and they could save the city from a terrible monster. Personally, I would receive a master class from Blade in handling weapons. They told me they would contact me again and released me in every direction at once. The plan was beginning to work reasonably well. Now I could wait while Blade performed the dirty work. But something was wrong. I felt uneasy. What?
For fuck's sake. Another greeting from damned Canon. My sense of self reported clearly that Michael's and Felicia's markers were close together and moving toward the edge of the city at high speed.
"Son of a—I'll have to hurry Blade... and make sure Felicia is safe."