Sam’s legs ached, especially his right one, which had been shattered in the airplane crash nearly a year ago. There had been no operations, no surgeries, hardly even any medication, and now, all these months later, lying on a paper thin prison mattress, the pain still kept him up most nights. Of course, there were other parts of his aging body that also ached and groaned all night long, but having his leg broken into a dozen pieces and leaving it up to his body to somehow put the jigsaw pieces back together again was bound to leave some fragments and shards that would not be soothed on this dirty, old, half-stuffed, bug infested mat.
Across the cell, his roommate was snoring. Yet another reason why Sam could never sleep. This was a new kid. The last one had been paroled or some shit, something that made no sense to Sam considering all of the things that leatherneck had confessed to. But Sam didn’t even bother to tell anyone what he’d done; most of them were under the impression he was a chomo, a skinner, terms he hadn’t even known the meaning of the first time he was accused of being such. His withered body had barely survived the first beating he’d gotten in the yard after the other inmates accused him of assaulting kids, and there hadn’t been any special powers to put him back together then, only an infirmary where the workers truly didn’t give a damn.
Lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, Sam reflected on everything he’d seen in his day. He was almost two centuries old, older than the prison itself. He vaguely remembered when Leavenworth had been built, though he’d been milling around in Mexico at the time, hunting a particularly nefarious bloodsucker by the name of Romero. Now, he knew it was a matter of time before he was dust, like so many of the Vampires he’d destroyed in all those years, buried beneath the ground next to the prison wall.
That was, of course, unless something miraculous happened. Or maybe something… sinister.
Even as the thought entered his head, a noise down the hall caught his attention. It wasn’t the usual night sounds he’d begun to grow accustomed to. This was something else entirely, though it wasn’t completely foreign to him. He’d never quite been in this position before as he waited, his breath straining against his lungs, listening for an approach he neither welcomed nor dreaded.
There were no footsteps, only a few whimpers Sam assumed came from the night watchmen, caught off guard and likely consumed within a matter of seconds. Whatever it was that was coming, it was powerful. Sam didn’t have to be a Hunter to sense that.
A blue light off in the distance caught his attention. As it neared, he realized it was more of a glowing mist. Despite part of him wanting to cower in the corner of his cell, he drew himself up off of the cot and took a few steps toward the door as the gossamer slid between the bars and came to form a person before him.
“Holy shit,” Sam muttered. He’d seen a hell of a lot of crazy things in his years but never anything like that. Not only was this blue mist trick something new, the man standing before him was as strange a fellow as he’d ever seen. He wore a white lab coat over his dark pants and shirt, and his hair stood up all over his head like a damn tumbleweed. Not much light reached Sam’s cell, but even with his human eyes, he could see a malicious smile spreading across the intruder’s face. Behind him, two more forms stood sentient as Sam tried to decide whether or not to fight or give in.
“Ah, yes, here we are,” the man cackled. “Sam. It’s nice to see you. Of course, if you were what you used to be, I might think otherwise.”
At the sound of his voice, though it was a whisper, his cellmate stirred, and the figure before him snapped his fingers. A few seconds later, one of the other forms in the hallway shifted so that it was also a blue mist. Sam stepped out of the way as it slithered between the bars of his cell and hovered over his cellmates bed. In only a few moments, the snoring turned to gasping, and then fell silent.
“Now, where were we?” the freakish doctor asked as the blue mist slipped back into the hallway.
“Who the hell are you?” Sam asked. Though he’d spent quite a bit of time at LIGHTS headquarters in Kansas City before he’d found himself here, he had been in a similar circumstance, held captive beneath one of the buildings, and he had no idea any of this shapeshifting was even possible.
“It doesn’t matter,” the Vampire replied, his hands folded in front of him. “I think you can be of service to us.”
“But… you know… I’m not a Hunter anymore.”
“Yes, of course I know that,” he replied with a flick of his head. “Doesn’t matter. You know more than any of us do. You can help.”
“No, I really don’t think I can,” Sam protested. Never in all of his days had he feared a bloodsucker, but then, he’d always been capable of defeating them. Now, in his human form, he realized there was little he could do to defend himself. When the man before him took a step forward, Sam was tempted to step back. He held his ground, but just barely.
“Well, the queen seems to think otherwise,” he replied, taking another step in Sam’s direction. This time, his foot slid of its own accord, and Sam found himself retreating toward the wall. Unfortunately there wasn’t really any place to go.
“The queen?” he asked, confused. He hadn’t heard anyone referred to in that way since Holland was killed. Had someone taken her place? It was vengeance against the Vampire Queen that had taken him to KC in the first place. Pursuit of one of Holland’s relations, Henry, a Vampire who should’ve had some answers for Sam, a Vampire that wiped out some of Sam’s own kin. If it hadn’t been for that Cadence Findley….
“Yes. Asteria. I’m sure you’ll recognize her when you see her. A lot has happened while you’ve been… incapacitated. But I do believe you can help us, so, I shall have my associates take care of that now.”
Even as he spoke, the blue mist forms filed into the cell, and Sam found himself pressed up against the concrete wall. Crying out would do him no good. No guards could protect him, not that they would even try. The rest of the inmates were just as caged as he was, and even if they thought they might be able to help, why would any of them want to? Likely, any that had been roused by the noise, were ducked behind their own cots, praying they weren’t next.
“No, wait, please!” Sam begged as the blue mists formed faces and arms. One of them took ahold of his left side, the other his right. Fangs began to form, and Sam braced himself. It seemed impossible that, after all of his years of fighting Vampires, he would now become one. The only reason this could happen was because of those bastards at LIGHTS who had taken away his powers as a Hunter. He would get vengeance for this, if it was the last thing he did.
The sharp teeth clamped down on the right side of his neck, and held in place by two strong immortal beasts, Sam could not move. The pain took his breath away, and he felt his life force leaving his body through the puncture wounds in his neck. His eyes never left the smirking face of the mad scientist before him as he began to crumple, supposing he might wither away on the ground right there in his prison cell, turn back into a pile of dust, blowing away in the wind, the same way he’d ended so many Vampires back when he was Cowboy Sam, Vampire Hunter. Now, if he lived, what would he be?
As Sam’s eyes grew heavy, he wished for death. It wasn’t the first time he’d said that prayer, but he’d learned long ago that God didn’t listen to the likes of him. If he opened his eyes again, he knew he’d be a monster, and most of him thought he would be better off dead. But just as he was about to fade away into oblivion, he remembered that Vampires kill Hunters, and he had one Hunter in particular he’d like to see dead. Perhaps this wasn’t such a bad thing after all….
