Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 186(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Those who would come after would have no understanding of what these people meant by gods. They would have no comprehension of the forces at play. In this moment, in this place, and in this time, Gideon was not a creature apart from the world, something unique and rare. He was one of many dark forces acting upon the world and its people, in all places, and in all cultures. The darkness of man was fully exploited, and it kept many creatures such as him alive.
As Gideon’s thoughts meandered back to modernity, he felt himself yearning for those simpler days. Modern humans had far too much ego, and imagined themselves much more permanent than they were. The city he once ruled over was now buried beneath jungle, and those sacrificed entirely forgotten. Nobody knew their names. They were not people. They were a vague concept of horror. He had not merely taken their hearts and their blood, he had erased their very humanity.
Perhaps he would do the same for a new generation, lured like moths to bright lights and the prospect of digital attention. Perhaps he would teach them the lesson of their ephemeral irrelevance.
Unfortunately, his thoughts were abruptly and rudely interrupted by the arrival of yet more interested parties. It was quite the night for mortal intrusion. The latest group was even less mannered than their predecessors, coming with large weapons and poor attitudes, shouting like louts.
FREEZE!
The doors to the dining room burst open, smoke filling the air so thickly it was impossible to see anything. The vampires moved with incredible vampiric speed and escaped in the fog quite easily, leaving only two figures in the room. One was Carter, who had been on his phone and continued to be on his phone while men in full body armor appeared through the door.
The other figure who had not moved was Gideon, at the head of the table. He did not flee from mortals any more than a frog might flee from flies. He sat on his dinner throne, a dark wood chair carved in gothic patterns that pleased him greatly and regarded the men and women who came to him with terrible weapons, red dots on his chest.
“GET ON THE FUCKING GROUND!”
A very rude man without a hint of respect in his voice began screaming at Gideon in a frankly hysterical manner.
Carter had been pushed up against a wall by three of the armed humans, all of whom saw fit to press the muzzles of their guns to his torso.
Gideon lifted a bone to his mouth and sucked the cells from the marrow within. It was a delicacy he did not intend to waste.
“GET ON THE FUCKING GROUND, OR I’LL SHOOT YOU, MOTHERFUCKER.”
The intruders seemed disturbed by the gore they found themselves surrounded with. It was setting them on edge, creating a mental disequilibrium.
“If that makes you feel better, why not.” Gideon smiled.
“Sick motherfucker.”
Gideon felt into the man’s mind and saw there the fact that he had a teenage daughter, and seeing the remnants of these young people was causing in him a rage and anxiety he could not remain professional through.
He did the thing most guaranteed to upset this man. He smiled.
The agent squeezed his trigger. A bullet hit Gideon in the center of his chest. Everyone stared, expecting him to bleed and die in the usual way. But Gideon, naturally, merely continued to suckle on the bone.
This caused great consternation among the armed men, who proceeded to unload several more high caliber bullets into Gideon. Being well-trained idiots, they aimed center mass for the most part, besides one sick soul who decided to shoot Gideon in the head. A perfect hole appeared in Gideon’s forehead.
“Ow,” the father of all evil mused, in the same irritated tone someone with a paper cut might exclaim.
Every sensible person had now left the room screaming. The people holding Carter had seen fit to let him go and vacate the premises likewise. But the agent who had initially shot Gideon was standing, staring, frozen in place with something like curiosity.
“What the hell are you?”
“I’ve been told I defy definition,” Gideon said as the wound in his head closed up before the agent’s shocked gaze.
“Like a vampire?”
“Certainly like a vampire,” Gideon said, quite calmly. His dark gaze was focused on the agent with great intensity, a kind of glamouring that made his assailant much less aggressive than he had been. The others had retreated outside his stronghold walls where they consulted in panicked tones with one another. Gideon could hear the clamoring of their remote distress.
“I didn’t know your kind actually existed,” the agent said. “That’s incredible. I have so many questions.”
“Sure, now you’ve already fired your weapon, you have questions,” Gideon purred. “Is that how you are trained?”
The agent shook his head.
“Poor boy. You were frightened, horrified, offended. You thought you were coming here to save the young ones, but you were too late.” Gideon got up, his visage perfect once more. He dabbed at the blood trail on his forehead and discarded the napkin across the face of one of his many victims as he approached the agent. He reached out and took the man by the back of the head, his hand large and clawed as he palmed that skull like a basketball.