Akane (BloodCon Book 2) Read online

  AKANE

  By

  S.Coop

  Kinfolk Books

  Roanoke, VA

  Copyright © 2017 by S. Coop

  Cover art courtesy of Creative Ankh Designs

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination and experiences or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  S. Coop is the author of Bloodcon, Akane, the poetry book, Sex, Love & Other Tragedies, and the short story, Last Chance at Love ( Book one of her soulmate series). She is currently working on “Two Souls, which is part two of that series, and the third and last installment of Bloodcon.

  Some of S. Coop’s poetry can be found throughout JJ Murray’s newest novel, Drift, sprinkled throughtout the novel as prose.

  S. Coop is a mother of four amazing kids and is an avid collector of katanas, throwing stars, daggers, and other sharp implements of destruction. She is also a huge fan of The Walking Dead, both the books and the show, and everything Vampire.

  You can interact with her at:

  Facebook.com—SCoopAuthor

  Website— scoopauthor.com

  Instagram— s.coopauthor

  Twitter— @ShereeCooper19

  Acknowledgements

  My Kids— You keep me me moving forward. I love you guys with all my heart and I want to show you that you can be anything you want to be as long as you have passion and determination. To my oldest son, you told me something a long time ago when I was writing BloodCon. It was simple but very impactful. Thank you for those words of encouragement.

  JJ Murray— The best author and editor ever! I can’t thank you enough.

  Zaji Ankh— Thank you for helping bring my vision alive.

  Chapter 1

  The Escape

  Pony had been blood drunk before but never while living humans watched.

  After she had sliced and diced over two dozen guards back at Marcus’s mansion, there was no way she could stick around. Once the Associated Vampire Alliance (AVA) caught wind of what happened, there would be nothing but questions and consequences. Granted, she already killed most of the witnesses, with the exception of Lasandro, Morgan, and Katya. She wasn’t too worried about them talking. If they talked, they would bury themselves.

  Literally. Except, for them, there would be no rising at dawn. There would be no rising ever again.

  At least Marcus had enough heart not to tell his cohorts at the AVA that Morgan made a new vampire. Pony wondered if he did that to protect Morgan or to cover his own ass. That mess was akin to something you find on a daytime talk show captioned “My brother is my cousin” or something like that.

  Appearance mattered when it came to the AVA. Marcus played his role very well. A little too well. He went from breaking all the rules to making rules. As if he didn’t have blood on his hands, teeth, mouth. Let’s just say he was a bloody hypocrite. That summed it up pretty well.

  Roaming around Maker-less was a new adventure for Pony. Marcus would not be there to order her around. In fact, Marcus would not be ordering anyone around anymore. When the AVA was done fishing his head out of the Aphrodite fountain, she would be at her next destination doing her own thing.

  Freedom.

  If the AVA comes for me, let them come. I never get tired of feeding blood to my blade.

  Through blurred vision, Pony took in her surroundings. Flying in an airplane was not her thing, but where she was going—Japan—she could not physically get there in her condition. She could fly from city to city, even state to state sometimes, but that took a lot out of her. Country to country required more conventional means.

  Because she was a vampire, Pony had extra-sensitive senses. Pony thought airplanes smelled like corn chips and ass, but the smell of blood masked that, and she was grateful. And she was still hungry, even though she had a smorgasbord back at the mansion.

  A baby cried in the seat across the narrow aisle. Pony looked at his cheeks, which were blood red.

  Kids were off limits. Morgan and Marcus drilled that into her head. “The bigger the human, the more blood,” they would say.

  All of that flew out of the window the night she first smelled Lasandro. Something about his and Maria’s blood was divine. When Marcus was blood drunk, he didn’t care what Pony did, but Morgan always kept a cool head. Vampires that fed on kids were shunned in the Vampire community, likened to human pedophiles. Morgan saved Lasandro from Pony that night, only to turn him later on.

  Pony chuckled at the irony of it all. Although she joined Marcus and Morgan when she was fourteen, she was turned when she was sixteen. At first she was their protectors. When they first met her, Marcus was intrigued with Pony’s speed and sword work, so much so, he let her tag along with them. Fast-forward about fifty years, and Pony was beheading him in his palace entrance.

  Twice the irony.

  A middle-aged woman with short, curly flaxen hair, ochre skin, and a few chins squeezed into the seat next to Pony. She gave Pony a once over and gasped. “I love your dress. My daughter stopped wearing dresses when she was nine. Every time I bought her one, she refused to wear it.” She shook her head and huffed. “I don’t know why. She looked so adorable in them. She probably didn’t like the fact that I picked them out. She blames me for everything, and still does till this day. She blames me for global warming, the election of Donald Trump, and the Kardashians …”

  Pony stared at her. Why do I attract people who want to tell me their life stories? And how did she get all three of her chins through security? The second one could conceal a grenade.

  “My daughter goes to college at the University of Tokyo. I try to visit her as much as possible but I still don’t understand why she chose a college in another country. Our country is the best country in the world.” She shook her head. “I feel so out of place every time I come here. Everyone looks identical. No offense or anything. And what’s up with all the bowing? I know the men only bow to get a better look at my tits …”

  Pony rolled her eyes.

  “I’m sorry, you must be tired. These flights are so long. They’re hell on my back. My daughter just doesn’t seem to understand that I’m a disabled woman. I have to come to her because she’s always too busy to visit home. Now she’s got herself a Japanese boyfriend.” She shook her head again. “I don’t know why she can’t just stick to her own kind. Race-mixing never ends well, you know.” She grabbed a bag of barbecue pork skins from her purse and burst it open. “Would you like some?”

  Hell, no! This woman is seriously working my nerves! “No thank you.”

  “Looks like you could use a few pounds honey but I know teenagers. Always starving themselves in the name of perfection. I mean, look at me. I’m the perfect size twelve. Marilyn Monroe was a size twelve ya know. As you kids say, more cushion for the pushin’!” She guffawed, releasing a toxic smell from her mouth.

  There was no way this woman is a size twelve, or a size twenty for that matter. Her head alone looks like it weighs a hundred pounds! Pony peeped her crunching on the twisted little pieces of pigskin. The woman was already halfway through the bag.

  “There’s never enough food on these planes. Not everyone’s a skinny mini.”

  Pony laid back in her chair and closed her eyes. Pointing her feet inward, she clicked the tips of her thick-heeled Mary Jane shoes together as the plane ascended. She was homebound for the first time in decades.

  And after she landed, she knew she would be hungry.

  For something multi-chinned and size twenty.

  

  Japan

  When the plane l
anded at Tokyo International, Pony disembarked and watched the luggage belt sluggishly rotate in a circular motion. She couldn’t grab much back at the mansion, but she was able to grab two bags worth of belongings. She hated how many dresses she had to leave behind. Still, she figured replacing them would be fun anyway. She also didn’t have her sword, but that too would be replaced very soon.

  “These things take forever. Used to be you could carry on more.”

  Pony looked at the woman she sat next to on the plane. Here she was complaining again.

  “I guess after Nine-Eleven a lot of things changed.” She looked at Pony. “Oh geez. You probably weren’t even alive during Nine-Eleven. I’m not sure if Japanese schools teach you guys about it. It was the absolute worst tragedy in history. Right up there with the Holocaust.”

  Pony side-eyed her and watched her three chins vibrate as she talked.

  “But we got those sons a bitches! Blew em’ up in their dirty caves. Nobody messes with America. Just like we bombed Hiroshima and Nagasaki for Pearl Harbor. They’re still feeling the effects of that one. We got a new president now. He’s bringing our country back to its old glory.”

  Pony saw her bags turn the corner on the belt. She grabbed them and went to the woman’s bathroom to fix her hair.

  “Three Chins” ran into the bathroom sporting her size forty mom-jeans and went into a stall. She latched the door closed and released what sounded like firecrackers into the toilet.

  Pony continued adjusting her hair and watched the woman come out sighing with relief.

  “Sometimes my stomach doesn’t agree with airplane food.”

  “Maybe it was the pork skins,” Pony said.

  “Oh no. I eat at least six bags of those a day.” The woman dried her hands and looked at her cellphone. “She’s late again! I can’t rely on her for nothin’! It’s probably that new boyfriend of hers. They all hate us Americans anyway. He’s probably brainwashed her into—”

  “Shut up! “Pony yelled.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I said to shut the fuck up.”

  “You most certainly did not tell me to shut up! I have the right to say whatever I want. I’m entitled to my opinions. That’s what makes my country great. We don’t all think alike. We’re allowed to think. Not like you Japanese. You all think alike.”

  Pony smiled. “What am I thinking now?”

  “That you hate me and my country.”

  “I don’t hate your country. Just you.”

  “What did I ever do to you?”

  “You interrupted my power nap,” Pony said. “Nobody interrupts my power naps.”

  Pony grabbed the woman by her three chins and slammed her inside a stall. The woman’s head hit the toilet, temporarily knocking her out. Pony went inside the stall and closed the door. The woman came to as she heard the click of the door latch.

  “Wha … what happened. My daughter …”

  “Your daughter hates you, too,” Pony said. “Who can blame her when she’s got a shitty mother like you?” Pony snatched up the 400-pound woman and slammed her onto the toilet. “Sit. Good dog.”

  “Please. Is it money? I have money in my bag. Please. I have nothing against you people.”

  Pony grabbed the woman’s head and tilted it to the side, sighing as it cracked deliciously. Then she tore into the soft, fleshy folds of the woman’s neck. She slurped ferociously as the woman futilely attempted to fight back.

  Pony paused to swallow. “You’re going to die. Might as well sit back and enjoy it.” She broke both of the woman’s arms and kept feeding until she couldn’t feed anymore. The woman’s body became still as she stared straight ahead and let out a last annoying huff.

  And a seriously long burst of gas.

  That was the thing about heavier people. You got full faster.

  Normally, the AVA would send a cleanup team, but not this time. She mopped up some of the blood with toilet paper and propped the woman onto the toilet, leaned her lolling head against the back wall, and pulled down her pantyhose. She plucked the woman’s chins, and they made a smacking sound.

  I will never eat pork skins. Ever. Not for all the Chins in China …

  The sun was coming up, so Pony got a room at the Haneda Royal Park Hotel, paying with a credit card she stole from one of the guards at Marcus’s mansion. As the sun’s rays crept over the horizon, she unpacked the first bag, took out several heavy black sheets and thumbtacked them over the window.

  She flipped her shoes off and jumped on the bed, testing how firm it was. Vampires liked firm beds. Casket firm.

  Pony stopped jumping and clicked on the television. Everything was in Japanese. She hadn’t spoken Japanese in decades, but she understood every word.

  Like riding a bike.

  She fluffed a few pillows and placed them up against the headboard. Putting her hands behind her head, she flipped through the channels at lightning speed before drifting off to immortal sleep.

  Chapter Two

  Home Sweet Home

  Pony walked through a stand of cypress trees that stood outside the wood frame two-story she called home decades before. The trees guarded a small hill fifty feet from the house. Flashbacks of torment raced through her mind, followed by flashbacks of the night she met Marcus and Morgan, the night that gave her freedom for the first time.

  Seeing that house brought back bitter memories. She remembered how her mother escaped in the dead of night to get away from Pony’s abusive prick of a father, but she didn’t bother grabbing Pony on her way out.

  She left me with that monster who stole my childhood, imprisoning me to a life of tears and bruises.

  Pony could tell the house had been renovated, but some of the old details remained. It still had the wraparound veranda where she sat whenever her father permitted her to “leave” the house. She did, however, do what she wanted when he was passed out drunk from too much sake.

  Sorry bastard was always drinking. He was a vile creature. I’ve met vampires that had more humanity than he did.

  Pony whipped behind a tree when she saw the shoji door slide open.

  “I’ll be in soon,” a boy said to someone before stepping through and sliding the door closed.

  He speaks English?

  Peeking around a tree, Pony watched him as he walked into the small courtyard, kneeled down, and prayed. He was fair-skinned, and looked to be at least six feet tall. He had long silky black hair that was was tied into a bun with a couple of tendrils hanging free. Pony concluded that he was not Japanese or at least not fully Japanese.

  And he’s practicing Shintoism? Interesting.

  The boy focused on the ground in front of him, then with a furrowed brow, he looked in Pony’s direction. She hid herself more. Did he see me? I hope for his sake he didn’t. Three Chins was a meal for two, but I am getting hungry.

  After a few seconds, Pony looked back to see a shiny object in his hand. She recognized it as the sword she killed her biological father with. Her first father. Pony had asked Marcus several times to come back to Japan to retrieve the sword, but he always said later, until later never came.

  When Marcus joined the AVA, he changed. He spent most of his time social climbing. Pony was perfectly fine when they were only Roamers. They had so much fun, and Marcus let her eat just about anybody she wanted. Morgan changed their vagabond, fun times when she abandoned them. Life was never the same. After Marcus “replaced” Morgan with Maria, they roamed a little while longer, but Maria was so weak that Marcus decided to settle them down. Pony knew better. Marcus had become bored with roaming. She saw how he acted around those elitist AVA dicks. She knew he wanted to be one of them.

  No more fun for Pony. Daddy’s rules.

  Pony watched the boy as he sliced and diced the air.

  Horrible form. No balance. Rudimentary technique. Too bad this will be the last time he swings it. That’s my sword!

  He looked her way once more. Pony hid again. She looked back after a few second
s to find him gone.

  Where’d he go?

  Then she felt the tip of a cold, steel blade pressing into her back.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  Pony giggled. “Well, hello to you, too.”

  He pressed the blade further, the tip lightly poking her spine and threatening to break the skin. “Tell me who you are. Now.”

  “You are holding my sword,” she said, “and I am taking it.”

  “Excuse me?” he replied. “You have a sword pointed at your back, and you think you can—”

  In a blur, Pony turned around, kicked the blade up and out of his hand, caught it, and pointed it at his throat. She smiled, enjoying the look of fear on his face.

  “How did you do that?” he asked. And then he smiled.

  Why is this boy smiling? I could cut his head off!

  “That was amazing!”

  Pony paced around him, keeping the sword pointed at him. “I just disarmed you, and I can kill you in the blink of an eye.”

  The boy nodded. “I know. How’d you do that so fast?”

  Pony blinked several times. “First things first. Who are you?”

  “But I asked you first.”

  “You have a sword pointed at you and you’re being pig-headed? You got some nerve!”

  “My name is John.”

  Pony furrowed her brow. “John?” I used to know someone named John.

  “Yeah?”

  “What are you? You don’t look American or Japanese.”

  John rolled his eyes. “Cuz I’m both.”

  Pony stopped pacing. “Your last name is Ito?”

  “No.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “Why do you want to know?”

  Pony poked him in the side of the neck with the blade, and a single dot of blood appeared. “Tell me or you will bleed out.” Into my mouth.