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Chapter Fifteen
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Impossible, this cannot be. The Great Hall looks as if hell has been unleashed upon it. Most of the paintings on the walls are shredded, several of the chandeliers have fallen to the ground and sent their crystals all over the floor, and two of the silver statues, that used to watch proudly over these magnificent halls, have fallen to their end among the crystals. But this is far from the most troubling thing – I see a thin layer of blood cover the tiles of the Great Hall entirely. That is a big area to cover in blood. I have no wish of finding out were it came from, though I already suspect I know. What happened here?
Walking down the stairs to the bottom floor, I notice strange contours in the dark, contours of bodies – rotting carcasses and ashes. Taking a closer look on the closest body to me I realise that it is the Official that always guards the south entrance. He has been torn to shreds and is partially dusted. His back has been sliced up so badly that half of his spine is sticking out of it – this is how he contributed to the ocean of blood covering the floor. Upon focusing my eyesight I see in horror, piles of ash and carcasses stacked here and there on the floor, like islands in an ocean – dead islands in an ocean of blood. Most of them have already turned to ash, but part of them soaks in the blood like a sponge, kept intact by their own spilled blood. What did this?
I need not ask what caused this, for it is obvious. I have seen these type of wounds one too many times not to recognise them. The questions is rather who caused it. It could not have been Jackston, I know this for sure. Even if he had sired as much as fifteen others of his kind during our time away from each other, which I doubt he would be capable of, there would still be no way for him to unleash this havoc in the Asylaum. He, and his possible followers, would have been overpowered the moment they stepped through these doors. No, this took someone of greater power, power that surpasses every Brethren that lies dead here in their own pool of blood. I suddenly get the feeling that I should not be here – it is not safe.
Despite that every part of my body tells me to leave, I take a few steps further. I need to know who did this. It is with great disliking and almost disgust that I take a first step into the blood; it is my only way to walk further into the Asylaum. Around me I spot several more Brethren cut open, leaking on the tiles and half dusted. It is disgusting. Were the Lords not able to stop the attack? No vampire would be able to do this, had the Lords not allowed it, apart from Sarthimia of course, but I know that she has not been here. How could anyone allow this terror to take place inside our very own protective walls?
I hear movement behind a pillar. It is only a faint sound – the sound of someone dying. Dashing in the direction of the sound I create small splashes in the blood, causing it to stick the lower parts of my pants and my coat. I do not care. When I reach my target I recognise her immediately – it is the woman with the black hair who whispered about me just before I got my verdict by the Council. I am soon by her side, holding her in my arms. She is coughing badly. A thin trail of blood is seeping from her mouth.
“The—” she coughs.
“Don’t,” I comfort her. “Lay still, I’ll help you.”
If she is to have even a remote chance of survival I must give her some of my blood. The blood decorating the black and white tiles on the floor is of no use – it is dead. Blood is only kept alive outside of a being if stored properly; the ocean on the floor is not, though it is enough to keep few of the bodies intact. I remove my knife from my inner pocket and open a minor wound with direct access to my veins before placing it against the woman’s dry lips.
“Don’t,” she coughs, and weakly puts her hand on my wrist to push it away. “You’ll need it yourself.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
She looks at me through dying eyes. It pains me to watch a Brethren die in my own arms.
“We,” she pauses to find the strength to speak, “were attacked—”
Bursting into a frantic cough attack, she is forced to take a pause, I seize the opportunity to ask the one thing that really matters.
“Who did this?”
She is burdened with grief and her eyes tear up. She is ashamed of what she is about to say.
“Dunstan,” she sobs.
“Lord Dunstan?” I exclaim, aghast.
She nods gravely in response.
Impossible, there is no reason why a Lord would break the laws that he lives to protect—
“He,” she continues, “had changed. He didn’t look like himself, his eyes were white and he was bleeding from his eyes. And he had claws.”
She can go on no longer. She bursts into tears.
If she is telling the truth, and I have no reason to believe otherwise, the world is a dangerous place to live in right now. A vampire Lord with enhanced strength and only an immense craving for destruction and death does not belong free on the streets of London, if that is indeed where he is. I have this feeling, that someone else is still in the Asylaum, alive and breathing, as well as I am.
“Is everyone dead?” I ask, fearing the worst.
A tear is drying on her cheek just as she speaks.
“Most fled,” she coughs, “but many were slaughtered.”
“Those who fled, where did they go?” I ask worriedly.
“I-I don’t know,” she stutters.
Damn. That means that the world does not only have a blood-crying Lord to worry about, but also what I gather to be several hundred rampaging Brethren, fleeing in fear. How could this have happened?
“Where are the other Lords?” I demand, having lost my sensitive touch.
“They have not been seen,” she replies sadly.
I suppose that means that our appointment is off. Good, I live to fight another day, probably only to get maimed like the others before me. I decide to force-feed this woman my blood – I will need her help.
“Here, drink,” I order as I put my bleeding wrist against her lips.
But I am too late – the woman dies in the blood of her fellow Brethren. Damn, I should leave. This place is far from safe. I should pick up Michael and take him somewhere far from here. Mina will still be safe at the monastery; I shall have to return to her later, if possible.
As I am leaving, I sense the life of another yet again. It is coming from the direction of the Council Chamber. Dare I venture further into the Asylaum? If I get killed in here, Michael is sure to die shortly after, and after him – the entire London. I have no choice; I must know that I am up against.
It is greatly uncomfortable to walk in the blood of my Brethren, but I try to focus on other things, such as what awaits me in the Council Chamber. The stench is making my guts twist. I have to stay focused – I cannot throw up now. The little light that illuminates the corridor before me is flickering nervously as if soon about to give in, like the rest of the Asylaum appears to have done. Still, I can see the shadow of a person at the end of it, pressing itself against the door to the Council Chamber.
“Who’s there?” I demand.
I receive no answer. This worries me. Who is there? I consider removing the gun from my coat, not knowing what awaits me, but I do not. Whoever stands before me has not earned a swift death. I will enjoy killing this one with my bare hands.
“Who’s there?” I repeat, giving the person a last chance to prove itself innocent.
There is still no answer. I am close enough to leap into striking distance, which I am just about to do when the person turns around.
“Oh, don’t be so bloody melodramatic.”
I know that voice.
“Ariane?” I ask dumbly, staring into her clear blue eyes in the dark.
“Who did you think it was?” she snaps.
She looks like hell. Her long blond hair is stained with blood and is looking like a mess. Her grey jacket and skirt are partially torn. Being partly covered in darkness I think benefits her at the moment. At least she is alive, which is more than you can say about most people around here.
“Someone pretty?” I mock, trying to break the tenseness in the air, but failing miserably.
I can see her pale eyes glare at me through the shadows. She still does not like me. Good – at least some things have not changed.
“You’re late,” she states coldly.
“For what?” I ask, though predicting the answer already. “My execution?”
“That,” she replies, “and our appointment.”
“We had an appointment?” I ask perplexed, repeating her words.
“I left a message on your machine,” she sighs.
I remember – the message I got when I had Mina in my guest room, resting from the wounds I was somewhat responsible of. I ignored the message then, and I still think that I made the right choice.
“Where have you been?” she asks suspiciously.
“Elsewhere.”
She rolls her eyes at my reply, knowing that I am hiding something, but she also knows that I will not tell her anymore than I have. I do not trust her enough to tell her about Mina and Michael, and I see no reason in telling her either.
“You’ve been through the Great Hall, I gather?” she asks, dropping the prior issue.
“I have,” I nod gravely. “What happened?” I hope that Ariane has more information than the other woman had.
“Not much,” she scoffs, “Hell just broke loose for fifteen minutes before hitting the streets.”
I stare disbelievingly at her. This, if any time, is not the time for jokes. If she has been an ice queen before, why can she not have the common sense of remaining so when it is in fact needed? She sighs and looks at me sincerely.
“Behind this door,” she says, pointing at the door the the Council Chamber, “five of the Lords have locked themselves up.”
“Five?” I repeat in surprise.
She nods in grave silence.
“They were in a meeting, waiting for someone,” she begins to explain, putting extra emphasis on the last word, “when Lord Dunstan turned before their eyes, into the very being that you were supposed to have stopped by now. Moments later, when Lord Dunstan had already attempted to slash Lord Crevinus, Lord Amaddeuas fell off his chair in the same seizure as Lord Dunstan had fallen into before him. The other Lords barely managed to defend themselves before Lord Dunstan and Lord Amaddeuas plummeted through this very doorway and wreaked havoc on every Brethren standing in their way.”
“I wasn’t informed of Lord Amaddeuas,” I whisper in shock.
“What?” Ariane asks, not understanding what I am saying.
“The woman, in the Great Hall, she didn’t tell me of Amaddeuas—”
“There were survivors?”
“One,” I sigh. “But she died in my arms.”
My words appear to have perplexed Ariane; she had not expected anyone to have survived an attack of that scale of two Lords. Neither would I, had I known that it was indeed performed by two Lords, rather than one, though I wonder how it can be that the woman only spoke of Dunstan. Did she not see Amaddeuas? Did he not pass through the Great Hall? If so; is he still in the Asylaum somewhere? I fear that we are not safe here.
“What of the other Lords,” I wonder, “why aren’t they doing anything?”
“Because they’re saving their own arses, naturally,” Ariane states, “and I don’t blame them – the power emanating from Lord Dunstan and Lord Amaddeuas was so intense that it tipped over three bookshelves in the Archives when the two turned.”
It figures. Why would the Lords not be hiding? When it all comes down to it, the Guidance is only a façade to keep us vampires in order, and when true hell breaks loose it is every vampire on its own – even the Council. Studying Ariane’s blond hair, which appears somehow brighter than before, I realise something.
“Why were you not injured?” I ask curiously.
I can see that she has a few minor scratches and wounds, but overall she appears fine, at least compared to the ones in the Great Hall.
“I was in the office during the attack,” she replies. “Luckily, they headed straight for the Great Hall, where I wasn’t located.”
“Very well,” I say, accepting her explanation.
Her bright eyes are looking worriedly down the corridor to the Great Hall.
“They must be stopped,” she says gravely.
I nod in agreement.
“I’m going to try to get the Lords to help us – they are our only chance,” she states with a worried tone.
This is not entirely true, and knowing the Lords I doubt that they will allow themselves to be convinced into helping either us or the humans inhabiting London, soon to be slaughtered. Sarthimia will be able to help, if there is only enough time to get to her. The sisters should really invest in a phone at the monastery.
“Where are the other Brethren?” I ask worriedly. “The woman told me that they fled.”
“Some did,” Ariane agrees, “but most locked themselves up in their quarters in the Asylaum, just like the Lords have done.”
Good, that eases my mind somewhat. That means that the people of London do not have to worry about the Brethren too much – now they only have two powerful rampaging vampire Lords to care about. Too bad that the ‘only’ is a big ‘only’ for the humans to worry about. I have to do something.
“Good luck with the Lords,” I say before walking away from Ariane. “You’ll need it.”
“Wait! “Where are you going?”
This is the second time I leave her with those words coming out her mouth. I am beginning to like it – it means that she is not in control of the situation, which her personality clearly demands.
“Elsewhere,” I say with my back turned to her, which benefits her since she cannot see the smug smirk decorating my face.
“But—”
I become one with the darkness before her.
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Outside of the Asylaum, London is looking as it always has; misty, grey and cold. There is no stench of death out here. That means that wherever the Lords have gone, they have not yet gone bonkers on the humans. But I know that time is short and that they soon will. For Ariane’s sake I pray that none of them are still in the Asylaum – it would mean her certain death for her.
I know where I must go, and I know what I must do before going there. Dashing as fast as possible towards my manor, situated a few blocks away from the south entrance, not caring about human witnesses, I reach my home in minutes. My car is parked exactly where I parked it after its last journey – a journey I must repeat once more. As soon as I have gotten inside I race to Brian’s apartment, hoping that I will not have to see him in make-up again.
I park the car just outside his door. This clearly upsets an elderly couple just passing me by. They should not care. If they are unlucky, my choice of parking place will be the least of their concerns – ever. Rushing up the stairs to Brian’s apartment I hear Michael’s voice. He is still here – good boy. Determined not to waste a second, I fling the door open to the apartment. It is unlocked, just as I had suspected. This is a bad time to not lock your door. If not to prevent two vampire Lords from brutally slay you, then to stop an Elder in a hurry.
“What the—” Brian, still wearing make-up, attempts.
I pay him no attention. I march straight to Michael, handing him his sneakers that I picked up on my way in.
“What are you doing?” Michael asks, somewhat shocked.
“Saving you,” I state coldly.
Without a word he puts on his sneakers and grabs his jacket. He can obviously tell that I am in a hurry and that this is a serious matter. His friend, on the other hand, looks nothing but confused and frightened.
“Where are you going?” the make-up wearer asks curiously.
At this question Michael looks at me, obviously curious about this too. There is no time to inform him of everything that’s going on, if there ever will be.
“Away,” I reply swiftly.
As Michael and I are leaving, Brian scurries after us to the door.
“Can I come?” he asks eagerly, though he reeks of fear.
I stare at him in disbelief. Is he serious? Looking at Michael’s pleading eyes I can tell that it is his will to have his friend join us. He will only slow us down. I decide to leave it up to the kid himself. I turn to him with cold eyes.
“Do you wish to die?”
“N-no,” he stutters, as if I have just threatened to kill him.
“Then no,” I state and close the door in his face.
Michael looks terrified. He should be.
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Chapters
Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10
11 | 12| 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | Epilogue
