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Chapter Seventeen
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Blood is seeping increasingly faster out of Michael’s back. Amaddeuas dug deep into his flesh. It makes me think back to the night when Mina was wounded, worse than her brother but equally fatal. I think of what I did to her, and what I swore never to do again. Watching Michael squirm in pain saddens me greatly, but I know what I must do. If he does not get better I must let him die tonight. Not because it is the right thing to do, but because it is the lesser of two wrong things to do. I give my coat to him; it is already covered in his blood from when I carried him here. His expression is puzzled when I hand it to him.
“Put it against your back,” I instruct him. “Then lean towards it and press yourself against it.”
He does as I say but moans in pain while doing so. I look away from him, unable to watch him like this. What have I dragged him into?
“It might slow down your blood loss,” I reassure him.
He smiles in gratitude at my advice. My God, what have I done to this family? I am not a religious man, and when I pray, I normally pray to myself, for I know it is in me the strength lays. But this, this is beyond me, so I fall down to my knees and pray to the God whom I have not believed in for the past three centuries. I do not pray for forgiveness – I expect none. I pray for life, for him to spare the life of Michael and his sister; for neither of them has deserved the harm I have brought upon their family. I receive no answer. Why would I? Was there to exist such a being as God, there would be no reason for him to see me now, when I have never asked to be seen before. But it is not for me I pray. Please spare this child, he has done nothing wrong but become a part of my life. My life should doom no other than myself.
I think of Sarthimia’s tale of the Ancients as I sit here. Why, I do not know. Her words come to me at this moment; I imagine they are for me to find comfort in. I do not. But to be on the safe side I pray to the Ancients as well. At least then I cannot be accused for not having done everything I could, everything but the one thing I refuse to. Before checking up on Michael, I check the window gazing over the open fields before us. It is a dark night, cold and silent, not a breeze in the air.
“Good night to die on,” I whisper.
“W-what?” Michael stutters from his corner.
I did not expect him to hear me. Perhaps his hearing is growing more acute from his blood loss, or perhaps he is simply clinging on to anything that might keep him in this world longer.
“Nothing,” I reply sadly and turning around only to see his eyes flickering, “nothing.”
His heart is beating at only half the normal pace – he does not have long. Yet he is still talking. I knew he was a fighter.
“What of Mina?” he asks, “is she safe?”
He speaks through a dry throat. His body must be using all of its fluids to keep his system running for as long as possible. He should not waste his words on me.
“She is,” I nod.
I know now that this is not a lie, that no matter how strong and feral Amaddeuas – or any other vampire for that matter – grows; they will still not be able to harm Mina under the protection of Sarthimia. Michael smiles at my reply, and though it is a weak smile I know that it conceals great love and care for is sister. I smile in return.
I hear movement outside, fast movement – someone panting. It is Amaddeuas, and he is headed straight for the door. He has ridded himself of my last gift to him, but a scar on his throat reveals that he will always remember it. Knowing that he will be upon us shortly, I pull the gun from my pocket, realising that for a person who does not like guns, I have been shooting an awful lot lately. I squeeze the trigger several times, sending bullets through the glass in the direction of Amaddeuas. There is little chance of hitting him at this distance. I still fire. Even if I hit, I know it will not kill him, but it will postpone him – give me time, time to live, or time to die. In Michael’s case it is the latter. The bullets send Amaddeuas dashing for cover on the far side of the cabin. Good – I got some time. Behind me, Michael is starting to cough blood. I hurry to his side. Kneeling by his side, my red eyes meet his brown. He is tired, and scared. And he is suddenly looking at me as if I am a monster of some sort. I fear he has learned the truth of my identity.
“What are you?” he asks.
My eyes turn away from his. I did not expect this question, but then again; it is difficult to predict the inevitable. I know that I do not have long to decide whether to be truthful or not – he is having difficulties keeping his eyes open. I choose to be honest.
“Miserable,” I say.
Michael smiles at my remark, and though it is not the answer he sought, it appears to please him. Not that I am miserable, but that I chose not to share everything with him, even at a time like this. I sure hope it pleases him – it is the last word he will ever hear. He goes limp in his own pool of blood. I place a hand on his face to shut his eyelids, and curse myself for not having saved him. I have now robbed Mina both of her father and her brother. I pray that I will not have robbed her of her own life when I return to Sarthimia.
I lean Michael’s body in the corner – I shall have to come back for it later. As I am about to get back on my legs I notice the dizziness return to me, much more intense than before. I fall flat into Michael’s lap. I have lost too much blood. If I do not drink soon my body will begin to shut down. I might not be able to stand up again unless I replenish myself. My surroundings are getting dark and blurry – I do not have long. I look at Michael, resting in peace. There is no choice – I have to. I hear Amaddeuas prowl outside the cabin.
“Forgive me,” I beg of Michael.
I sink my fangs into his dry veins. There is little blood left in him; most is spread around us on the floor. But that is of no use to me – I need the little blood left in him, the little blood that is still alive. Drinking of him makes me feel like a true monster, which I no longer doubt that I am. Michael’s blood joins his father’s inside me. At least they are joined in death. It brings me no solace – what I have done is unforgivable. I will be sure to pay for it, just after Amaddeuas has.
Focusing my keen senses, I am sure that I hear Amaddeuas skulking in the barn just outside. He is waiting for me. I will not be long.
I need a few minutes to let the new blood spread. Before I leave for the barn, I remove my coat from behind Michael and cover his body with it. I do not need it now. Though it is a cold night I know that my body will keep me warm.
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The barn is dark and silent. Several piles of hay are stacked in it and a rusty old tractor is placed at the far end. Some farming equipment is hanging on the walls too. Apart from that; the place is empty. I hear a faint hissing sound as I slowly begin to walk. I squeeze the gun firmly in my right hand – it is my only hope. There is no way that I can beat him up close. Only a few bullets remain though, I shall have to be careful – careful to aim, careful to shoot; careful to kill.
“Amaddeuas!” I demand in a harsh voice. “Show yourself!”
The hay piles rattle uneasily.
“Death,” I hear the shadows hiss.
I fail to locate the source. He is in here, this I know. I also know that he is aware of my presence, and that he most likely knows exactly where I am. He has the upper hand.
“Pike,” he continues to hiss from the shadows.
I have had enough of this.
“Enough!”
“As you wish,” he hisses in return.
That is the first time I hear a blood-crier speak more than one word at a time. Perhaps the Lords are different from the others; more powerful. It would not surprise me.
Without a warning, one of the piles is shredded into dust and Amaddeuas plunges towards me. His claws are aimed at my chest and his fangs at my throat. He is fast – a lot faster than any of the others. I manage to avoid his intentions, but he still slashes through my left shoulder. It hurts like hell. His white eyes gleam with pleasure.
“Hurts?”
I am not sure that it is meant as a question, but I choose to answer him anyway.
“Was it meant to?” I ask with a defiant smirk.
I appear to have upset him. Good.
He roars furiously as he slashes for me again. This time I avoid him completely, but it takes my outmost efforts to do so. Failing to hurt me is doing nothing good for his temper. He is looking more feral now than I have ever seen anyone before. His claws appear to shoot further out of his fingers, the blood is no longer seeping from his eyes like tears – it is cascading like a torrent down his cheeks. His failure is causing him such fury that he rampages on the wooden pillars that are keeping this barn standing. I cannot let him do that – I am not in the mood for dodging a barn. I pick up a sharp rock next to my feet and place a well-aimed throw in his lower back. He does not scream. He does not even flinch. He just turns around and glowers at me through white eyes and a face covered completely in his own blood. Without a word, or even a hiss, he dashes for the run-down tractor. I have only just realised what he is about to do when he picks up the tractor like it was made of paper. I am in no mood for dodging a tractor either.
“No!” I command.
It is pointless. He takes a step towards me with the three ton tractor dangling dangerously over his head. I have no choice but to shoot. I fire two rounds into his chest. The only response I get is a wide grin as his wounds start to drip. He does not even react to the bullets I have pierced him with. I see him raise the tractor and throw it at me, but the rest is a haze – as if it happens within seconds. As the tractor comes flying at me, I react instinctually; I leap high above it, land on its roof as it flies towards the wall at mind-blowing speed, roll off it just as it hits the wall and I manage to grab hold of a wooden object from a pile of hay on my way down – it is a hayfork. Turning around in a hustle, I see Amaddeuas plummet towards me with his half meter long claws aimed at me. I do not perceive everything going on, but as I turn around to face Amaddeuas I stare straight into his white eyes; they are widened in shock. Blood is trickling down his robe from four points of penetration in his abdomen. His long white hair is smothered in it. The hayfork is trembling weakly in my hands; at the end of it Amaddeuas is squirming. I cannot believe it – such strange whim of fortune.
---
“You are going to meet some people, Théodore,” he informs me seriously.
He has been acting strange all the way since we left for London. It is as if something is troubling his mind greatly. Still, I have decided not to trouble him with my curiosity until he, himself has decided to share with me. This appears to be the moment.
“Who, Sire?” I ask curiously.
He stares through the window of the carriage in silence for a moment, considering his words carefully. Then he turns to me.
“People of power.”
Studying him closely, I notice a feeling in him that I have never seen before – fear. Maybe not fear, but outmost respect. Who are those people that can strike fear even in my most arrogant Sire?
“Sire?” I ask, begging for an explanation.
His eyes return to studying the dark trees of the forest, through which we are travelling. He sighs deeply, before speaking to me without bothering to turn back to me.
“There is something you must learn, Théodore,” he begins. “You must understand that despite how powerful you might become, there will always be people with greater power than yours.”
I shift uneasily in my seat.
“I thought that there was no creature more powerful than vampires,” I say.
“There isn’t,” he states plainly.
“But you said—”
“That our powers will be limitless in time – I know,” he says. “Have you not yet understood, Théodore?”
“Understood what?” I repeat perplexed.
He sighs and turns to me. My ignorance is disturbing him.
“Know this,” he says thoughtfully, “that our society would not exist had it not been for the true powers controlling it.”
There is a force greater than us? I find this hard to believe, especially after what I have seen what we are capable of. No human can stand in our way – no one.
“What awaits us in London is our home,” he explains dreamingly, “the Asylaum.”
“The Asylaum?” I ask dumbly.
He smiles at my question.
“It’s an underground city, hidden deeply beneath the streets of the capitol city of England. It’s the home of hundreds of Brethren, the location of our great Archives, but most importantly; it’s where the Council resides,” he says.
My next obvious question is halted by his euphoric voice.
“The Council is the name we Brethren use for our seven honourable Lords – our rulers. They alone make sure that we live by the Guidance and are obedient to their words,” he informs.
“But I thought that vampires had no lords but themselves,” I say, perplexed.
“Don’t be a fool!” he snaps. “Of course we do, how else could we have existed as long as we have? How else could we have prospered in ways that the humans couldn’t even dream of? How else could we be superior to every other being that walks this Earth?”
His words are judging – hurting even. My ignorance has ceased to amuse him and become nothing but a nuisance. I cower in embarrassment by his side.
After a minute or so he calms down and looks at me kindly again.
“The Lords,” he continues, “are our greatest pride – the true immortals of our race, indomitable Brethren of great wisdom. They have lived through millenniums and will continue to do so for millenniums to come. Their powers are unmatched. Truly, like no other vampire, they deserve to be our Lords; our guidance in this world.”
“I understand, Sire,” I reply.
“Pray that you will never face the fury of the Lords, for it will mean your imminent death. Do you understand, Théodore?” he asks ominously.
“I do, Sire,” I reply respectfully, “I do.”
---
Without a moment of hesitation I ram Amaddeuas into a wall, imprisoning him in his own body with a metal object piercing his entrails. He starts to cough with difficulty. The blood smothering his face has coagulated and is lying like a thin mask on his skin. I twist the hayfork with all my force, making sure that he is as uncomfortable as possible. I will not give him the slightest chance to escape his imprisonment.
Holding the hayfork with one hand, I pull the gun with my other. I aim for his head this time – making sure that I kill him. I am slowly squeezing the trigger when I notice something in his eyes – a change. His empty white eyes are not completely empty anymore. I see life in them, though they are not as clear as mine, they are definitely different from before. I lower the gun at this realisation. It is as if a thin layer of mist resides in his eyes, but not enough to cover them entirely.
“Lord?”
I receive no answer. Instead I get a look of great pain in return.
“Lord Amaddeuas?” I try, hoping that his name will trigger him.
There is still no answer. It could very well be a trick. I hold the hayfork firmly still, knowing that it is the only thing stopping him from rampaging again. Suddenly I hear him speak, though it is more of a faint whisper.
“Pike?” he rustles.
“Yes, my Lord?”
“Damn you to hell,” he coughs.
This remark puts a faint smile on my lips. It is not the first time he tells me this. It must be him, and not the monster speaking. I know this by the tone of his voice.
“What happened?”
“You shouldn’t—”
“Don’t tell me what to do, Pike,” he growls hoarsely.
It is definitely him. I pull the hayfork out of his body. Four gaping wounds remind me of the severe damage I have caused him. He groans as I place him against the wall.
“You changed, Lord,” I tell him solemnly, “you turned into one of them and slew everyone in your path along with Lord Dunstan – the Great Hall lays covered in the blood of your victims.”
This is a harsh way of informing him, but I gather that he does not have much time left. He could not possibly, not looking like that. He is pale like a winter night and is trembling of cold. There cannot be much blood left in him.
“What?” he exclaims.
I bow my head in mourning before him. We spend a minute in silence for those who have passed. He then breaks the silence with the urgent matter at hand.
“What of Dunstan?” he demands.
My eyes drift to the ground in shame and guilt. I dare not look at him when I tell him – I do not even think I dare telling him at all. He can tell that I am hiding something.
“Elder Pike, speak!” he says harshly.
“He is gone, my Lord,” I reply weakly.
Amaddeuas does not need to ask me how it happened – he can tell who caused Dunstan’s death just by looking at me.
“I’m sure you did what you had to, Pike,” he says solemnly.
“I did,” I mumble.
I stare blankly into the starlit night that surrounds the barn, knowing that I have not lied. I did have to kill Dunstan, just like I had to defend myself against Amaddeuas, who is dying before my very eyes. Still, I feel a heavy burden of guilt pressing itself against my chest. Amaddeuas’ cough interrupts my self-pitying.
“Have you found the source yet?” he asks with hope, as if the answer is the only thing keeping him alive.
My silence speaks more than my words ever could. He nods gravely at my silent reply.
“So Sarthimia was right – this is a matter greater than any vampire,” he whispers to himself.
“You know of Sarthimia?” I exclaim in surprise.
“Of course I do. I have to,” he says with a soft smile.
“What do you—”
“There’s no time,” he says grimly. “You must drink of me, it is our last chance.”
“What?” I ejaculate, appalled. “I can’t – I won’t!”
“Pike,” he coughs, “it’s an order. You’re our last hope; you’ll need every single power you can muster.”
I nod. He is right, and yet I do not wish to obey. It feels as if I would break every law I have ever lived by, by doing so. I search my mind desperately for another answer.
“What of Ariane, Lord? She still lives,” I inform him. “She was one of the few who survived your slaughter in the Asylaum.”
Just mentioning the Asylaum causes him uneasiness. He tightens his face and makes an abhorring expression.
“Who’s Ariane?” he asks with an oddly puzzled face.
“Ariane – the partner you assigned for me, the one to help me find a source!”
There is no time to forget things now. He must remember – he must come up with another solution other than feeding his blood to me.
“You,” he whispers weakly as life is leaving him, “were given no partner. Drink—my—bloo—”
Amaddeuas dies in a derelict barn. It is no fitting fate for a Lord – it is not a fate for any Brethren.
“What?” I whisper disbelievingly to his last words.
I close my eyes before bending over his neck and draining the little blood left in him. In the darkness that I have surrounded myself in, and with the blood of a true Lord flowing inside me, everything falls to place. I see truth where there was only darkness before. Before me, Amaddeuas body turns to ash and falls apart piece by piece.
After having finished my meal, I leave Amaddeuas where he died. I might pick up his ashes later, but for now there are more important things to do. I rush to the tarnished car I noticed parked in the garage of the farm. There is enough fuel in it for it to bring me to my target.
As I race along the small roads on the countryside I curse myself. How could have taken the death of so many Brethren and two Lords for me to realise the one thing so obvious that I should have noticed the moment I first saw her?
---
Only an oddly shaped silver pendant hanging round her neck appears out of place. How foolish of me.
I notice an oddly shaped silver pendant dangling around her neck – I swear that I have seen it somewhere before. Damn it.
“We built this monastery to reside in until the time would come when the world would be in need of us once more. It was then, and is still, a modest building with only five chambers, one for every sister.” One chamber for every sister.
“That can be arranged, we have an available chamber.” She is one of them. That is why there was a free chamber.
“Thanks for having my back,” I sneer.
“I thought you were a ‘big boy’,” she teases. She left me there to die.
“Don’t make me report your absence to the Council.” She could never report me. That is why they never spoke of her – they did not know of her.
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The Asylaum lies in grave silence when I slam the doors open in the Great Hall. The ocean of blood has miraculously vanished. I have a hunch of who is responsible for this. Marching through the Great Hall, I notice that no bodies remain either. They must have been dusted. However, they took their sweet time in doing so. They stayed solid for too long – I wonder what she has done to them. I am furious beyond limits when I rush towards the Council Chambers. Am I too late – has she already gotten to the rest of the Lords? I pray not.
To my relief, I see her silhouette still standing before the door to the Council Chamber. The Lords have been wise to abide their cowardice. She hears me coming – I am not surprised. As she turns slowly turns around to face me, I do not even give her the chance to speak. I send my last bullet towards her, and watch as it imbeds itself between her eyes. She is dead as soon as the bullet hits its target. I grin manically. She falls to the ground and is soon joined by the blood seeping out of her open wound.
“I never did like you, Sugar-bums” I state coldly as I throw down the empty gun next to me.
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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
