Prologue

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Kamran ascended the short set of stairs leading to the wooden pulpit. Illuminated by dozens of candles. He took in the imagery of the upside-down crosses and various animal skulls that adorned the black and red walls. Paintings and sculptures of what appeared to be acts of sex, murder, and sacrifice were also part of the bizarre décor, along with indecipherable Latin phrases written on the walls. All the eyes glaring in his direction, drew his attention forward and reminded him why he was here.

Amazingly, the reason for why he was here had everything to do with the past as well as the present. Too long ago, one of the very first races of the vampire was driven from North Africa. Many fled to the Caucasus Mountains stretching between the Black Sea and the Caspian Sea. But others, including Kamran, chose not to abandon their to travel south through Africa and the tropical islands such as Trinidad. Vampires were among those who settled the earliest part of the Caribbean, with the pre-agricultural Archaic people and across the rest of the face of the Earth. There we lived happy for happy centuries in secret, until by those of the Caucasus Mountains and their master, Draco learned of what melanated vampires were actually capable of. 

They were all immune to almost everything the Caucasus vampires feared. They were completely immune to silver, garlic, crosses, wooden stakes, and most other traditional vampire weaknesses while retaining superhuman strength, stamina, speed, agility, heightened senses, and a rapid healing factor that attacks any alien substances (chemicals/viruses) in their body. With this, the blood of black vampires was spilled all over the world. Every atrocity — everything horrid done to people of color all over the world was a part of Draco’s plan to wipe the day walkers off the face of the earth. Which led him to this place — this very moment where finally peace could possibly be achieved.

One of Draco’s servants escorted Kamran to the table, where his master and entourage waited. Draco stood up to greet him as they locked eyes. To all except Kamran, Draco’s haunting gaze and commanding presence would have immediately forced them to pay him deference. Kamran never would. It was only because Kamran was able to look past the flesh. He knew what Draco truly was. 

Everyone else saw a thirty-seven-year-old, six foot one, two hundred twenty-five pound, full-blooded Italian god with sky-blue eyes who donned only the finest hand-stitched and tailor-made suits. They saw the man. Beyond the corporeal, Kamran watched as crimson suffused Draco’s flesh, turning his skin the same color. His canines elongated, his lower jaw distended. Jagged bone spurs erupted all over his body. Kamran always saw the living weapon — the bloodthirsty monster that cared about nothing except the taste of blood.

That’s why he came alone. Without his guard. Without his queen. Before himself, his people mattered the most to him. They chose him as their king, so he served them to the best of his abilities.

“Khafre. He, who appears as Ra. Son of Khufu and the successor of Djedefre. A true leader of men.” 

Kamran smiled, his fangs glinting in the room’s light.

“It’s Kamran now,” 

“Well, you and your people certainly are prosperous and fortunate. Been a long journey for you though, huh? Hasn’t it?” Draco smirked disingenuously. “A lot of running. A lot of pain.”

“Please Dracula. Let’s skip the formalities. We both know why we’re here. Peace.”

“I’m not quite sure you understand the situation.” Draco smiled. “You’ve lost.”

One of Draco’s men lunged at Kamran with a dagger. Kamen simply lifted a palm. All watched as the attacker exploded into a ball of flame and a pile of ash hit the floor.

“So we’re still doing the assassination thing?” Kamran laughed, toying with the scarab pendant hanging near his heart. “You can’t truly kill me because I know what’s going to happen.”

“You?” Draco smiled sinisterly as Kamran became surrounded on all sides. “We’re going to kill you, Kam, but this has to do with a lot more than you.”

At his words, the female vampire to his left produced a dagger and made a glancing thrust at the African king’s neck. Kamran turned around quickly and caught the woman by the arm.  Though he was able to violently throw the woman away, another vampire stabbed him in the side.

Within moments, Kamran was attacked from all directions being slashed in the face, stabbed at the back, and sliced his thigh. The vampires continued stabbing him as he lay defenseless. Kamran was stabbed forty-nine times, lying in a pool of his own blood. 

Draco knelt down over him, the large carnelian Scarab beetle amulet around Kamran’s neck. It was its fiery color that caught his eye. Having read many Kemetic texts, Draco knew that carnelian, associated with the blood-lust and rage of Neteru. He reached out to touch it then hesitated. Carnelian was also closely connected to the sun deity, Ra. The people of Kemet believed the power of the sun existed within the crystal. 

It was the reason that he’d take it as a memento before his blade found Kamran’s heart. Draco gripped the scarab and howled in agony as the scent of his own seared flesh filled the air. It was as if this uppity, proud colored boy just had to spit in his face one last time. 

Draco raised the blade which when he swung it down, found Kamran’s heart. He died almost instantly. A long hush encompassed the room. 

Dracula stood up, the elation of accomplishment overtaking him as he clutched his burnt hand into a fist. There were no words. No praise. Draco and his people just left the room along with Kamran’s body where it lay, the light within the Scarab beginning to glow.