Fiends of the Rising Sun by David Bishop Page A

his blood, giving in to the darkness and damnation.
    Hitori felt disappointed when Constanta pulled his fangs away. It was as if the vampyr's presence had become the most important thing in the world, the sole reason to live or die. The Rumanian licked his lips lasciviously, savouring every morsel of crimson liquid. "Delicious, quite delicious," he hissed. "It seems a shame not to take the rest, but I made a promise to Tojo and to the Führer, back in Berlin." He undid the right sleeve of his uniform and pushed the fabric up his thin, pale arm. Two old puncture holes were visible in the fold of his elbow. Constanta dug into the wounds with his long, sharp fingernails, tearing back the scar tissue to reopen them. Two trickles of blood so dark it was almost black dripped down from the holes.
    "Now it is your turn," Constanta said, his voice a bleak rasp. "By taking your blood, but leaving you enough to survive, I have remade you in my image. If you feed before the next sunrise, you will become a vampyr, but a vampyr of little power or status. You will discover there is a strict hierarchy to our kind, and your place within that is defined by your strength and abilities. Greatest of us all is the Sire, who sleeps beneath the lake of blood hidden deep inside Transylvania, awaiting the day when he will rise up and claim dominion over the world for all vampyrs. He was my blood sire, resurrecting me in his image. I have been blood sire for a select few, endowing them with much of my power and abilities. In turn, they have sired the next generation of vampyrs, imbuing them with part of their status and strength, and so it goes, on and on, generation after generation.
    "It is rare that I sire a new vampyr," the Rumanian said. "According to tradition each of us can sire only ten new vampyrs. Alas, I lost one of my kin on the eastern front in recent weeks. But that is fortunate for you, as it means there is a gap in my family and I can endow you with far greater powers than you might otherwise have gained. You will need these to create the cadre of samurai vampyrs that Tojo wants as his secret weapon in the coming war."
    "How?" Hitori asked, swaying in the cool twilight breeze, his legs weakened by the substantial loss of blood. "How do I attain these powers?"
    "You must feed. You must drink my blood." Constanta held out his arm so it was level with Hitori's face. "Close your mouth over my wounds and nature will take its course. Forever more, part of my blood will be part of your body, augmenting your senses and your abilities. You will become one of my creatures, one of my übervampyrs!"
    Still Hitori hesitated, his old self repulsed by the thought of drinking another creature's blood. But something else was stirring deep inside him, an insatiable need, a hunger that grew until it became a torrent, a storm of wanting and anger, of violence and need. An animal instinct was overtaking him, until he could hold it back no longer. Red mist descended upon his reason and he gave in to it, pulling back his lips with a hiss of triumph. Hitori sank his teeth deep into Constanta's cold, sallow flesh and drank of the liquid within. He felt the warmth of it smearing his chin, running down his neck and staining the front of this uniform, but he didn't care. He wanted to suckle those wounds forever, to bury himself in that black and crimson moisture; he wanted to feed upon the source until it ran dry.
    "Enough," Constanta commanded, trying to pull his arm free.
    "More," Hitori replied, his voice as guttural as some base animal's.
    "Enough!" The Romanian ripped Hitori from his arm, throwing the Japanese soldier across the terrace. Hitori's body thundered into the stone balustrade, but he was up on his feet within moments, licking his lips and advancing on Constanta. The Rumanian rolled his sleeve back down, hiding away the wounds that had become irresistible to Hitori. "You tried to drain me."
    "I was hungry," the Japanese soldier smiled.
    "You want to