by Ramy Vance
The screech that came from the hag was nearly unbearable. Stew let go as the hag’s top half scuttled away, up into the rafters of the bell tower.
Suzuki pushed Stew to show his irritation, and Stew pointed to his ears, which were bleeding. “Maybe you should start wearing a helmet,” Suzuki said.
“I’d rather lose my eyebrows, ears, and nose than look as big of a dork as you.”
“Stew, it’s practical. And I don’t know what you’re talking about, my helmet is fucking sick.”
“Hey, idiots,” Sandy shouted, “You’re not done yet!”
Stew pointed at the hag’s twitching abdomen that lay on the ground. “Uh, I think we got her,” Stew said. “Homeboy over here just cut her in half. So, I think we might be—”
The hag dropped from the ceiling, wrapping Stew in all four of her arms. The two of them rolled across the floor, toward the gaping hole in the center of the room.
Sandy reached out to try and help Stew, but she was too far away. She obviously didn’t have enough mana to help either. “Stew!” she shouted.
Suzuki leapt and tried to grab one of the hag’s arms, but he was too late. Stew and the hag rolled to the hole in the bell tower. Stew’s head clanked the bell loudly as he and the hag fell through the hole.
Stew’s screams echoed through the church and grew more distant as he and the hag fell through the church. Suzuki took off after them and jumped down the hole, casting Levitate to soften his fall. He hoped Stew had had enough sense to do the same. Below, there was a crunch and the sound of breaking bones and wood.
Suzuki plummeted into the darkness and landed with an impressive thud. He jumped to his feet and spun, looking for the hag. All he saw was Stew curled in a ball, and the hag scuttling off into the darkness. Suzuki rushed over to Stew and helped him to his feet. “Anything broken?” Suzuki asked.
“Just my pride.”
“What’s new?”
“Shut it, bro. How are we gonna flush her out?”
“Last time I checked, rafters were flammable.”
Suzuki raised his hand and cast a fireball in the direction of the hag. The flames burst across the wood and Suzuki focused on keeping the flames from spreading. Now that the rafters were illuminated, he could see the hag scuttling across the wooden planks above. Her head spun around, and she let go of the rafters and fell toward Stew and Suzuki.
Suzuki managed to get out of the way. Stew, on the other hand, drew his other sword and prepared for impact.
The hag hit Stew hard and they both fell to the ground. Stew slid his sword into the hag’s soft underbelly and she screeched in pain. Then she leaned forward and sank her fangs into Stew’s neck. “Fucking A,” Stew shouted as he rolled over, forcing the hag off him.
Suzuki had another fireball prepped, and he leapt, fireball in hand, and slam-dunked it into the hag’s head. Her skin burst into flames. Stew grabbed his dropped sword, shifted under the hag, and lopped off her head. Her head went flying, and her body went limp.
Stew got to his feet and tried to wipe the blood off his face before sighing and giving up. Behind them, Sandy floated down from the bell tower. “Can’t see why you said that was a fifty percent,” Stew wondered. “Irritating, yes. Nearly deadly, definitely not.”
Suzuki crouched down to inspect the hag’s body. The blood that was flowing from her neck was black and congealing now. He poked it with his sword and, when he withdrew it, the blood trailed after like black syrup. “Gross,” Suzuki said. “This crap looks like fermented bean curds or something.”
“Is she actually dead this time?”
Suzuki stabbed the corpse a handful of times. Then for good measure, he set it on fire until there were only ashes. “Yeah, it doesn’t seem like that fight could have gone either way. Something else must be up.”
The skin around Stew’s neck was bright red and inflamed. He kept scratching it, more vigorously than when he was picking at his face. There were rings of gray around the center of his pupils. Suzuki walked up and stared at Stew’s eyes, trying to figure out what was wrong. The color of his eyes had changed as well. “Hey Stew,” Suzuki ventured, “You mind if I look you over right quick?”
“As long as you keep your hands to yourself and I don’t have to cough.”
Suzuki pulled up his HUD. “Scan for ailments,” he said. The HUD scanned Stew’s body. After a few seconds, the HUD read “Ailment detected: vampirism.”
“Holy shit, Stew, I think you just caught vampirism.”
The color drained from Stew’s face and his eyes went wide. Suzuki could tell that Stew was about to lose his shit and start freaking out. “Hey, hey, buddy,” Suzuki started. “Don’t worry. It’s curable. You just got a little bit of it. You’re gonna be all right. You should have a couple of dispelling potions. Sandy brewed them for us before we left.”
Sandy smiled and nodded, obviously happy about her foresight. Stew opened his HUD and scrolled through his inventory, and a potion materialized in his hand. He downed it faster than a man dying of thirst in the Sahara. After Stew was done, Suzuki double-checked Stew’s status.
That fast, the vampirism was cured.
Suzuki walked to where the hag’s head had flown, knelt next to it, and opened the mouth to look at her teeth. There were more than just sharp. The hag had two rows of shark-like teeth. “That must have been why we were at fifty percent,” Suzuki mused aloud. “The HUD was considering that we might also lose long-term by contracting the virus. So that’s what we’re up against, vampires.”
Sandy and Stew came up beside Suzuki. Stew no longer looked like he was going to freak out but still did not look comfortable. Sandy knelt next to Suzuki to look at the hag’s head as well. “That explains the psychic disturbance,” she offered. “Vampires are in the group of undead who can affect the psychic plane. It looks like she might have developed that over time, though. I don’t feel any remnants of the fog. It might be safe to assume that it was just this bitch who could manipulate our feelings.”
“Thank the Godless Beings of Destructions,” Sandy said. “If I had to focus any longer on happy thoughts, I was going to pull my eyes out of their sockets.”
“What were you thinking about?” Stew asked Suzuki.
“Huh? Oh, I guess all the times that we used to play together. Basically you guys, I guess.”
“That’s sweet.” Stew put his hands over his heart in the manner of one in love. “I never would have pegged you for a sweetheart.”
“I’m not. That’s why it was increasingly difficult. What about you?”
Stew nudged the hag’s head with his foot so that her mouth lay slack-jawed and open. “Probably my sweet loving,” Stew joked.
“You know it, you hunk of cock,” Sandy quipped.
Suzuki tried to pretend he was in a soundproof room for a second. No matter how often he heard what Sandy and Stew counted as flirting, it still had the potential to turn his stomach. “Seriously,” Suzuki said. “I told you mine.”
Sandy braided her hair out of her face as she spoke. “It was you guys for a little bit. But it got distracting, so I started thinking about my dad. We used to go surfing a lot when he was stationed in Hawaii. He used to have to help me shake the sand out of my ears and hair.”
“What about you, Stew?”
“I was just thinking about cartoons. You know, those old black and white ones. I always laughed at Casper the Ghost. That kid was weird.”
Suzuki didn’t know where to start with wrapping his head around why Stew’s best memories were of cartoons. That would have to be tackled another day. Suzuki inhaled deeply, held his breath, and then exhaled slowly. He felt normal. All those cursed feelings had ebbed away. Still, he felt something lingered in him. It could have just been the knowledge of what the whole experience had brought out of him. It was like they had all grown closer.
“It’s like we survived an argument,” Sandy murmured under her breath.
The words had been taken right out of Suzuki’s head. Sandy stared at
him, letting him know she understood. It might not have been the exact thing Suzuki was feeling, but it was close enough. Stew must have been feeling the same way because he’d been uncharacteristically quiet. “More like a thousand arguments,” Stew then added on. “I can’t believe that I thought those things about you guys. It’s hard to imagine wanting to kill your best friends.”
“Well, most people don’t get to survive trying to murder their best friends. I say we’re lucky. So what’s next?”
The main section of the church where they were was nearly destroyed. The room had already been in shambles. Suzuki paced around the rubble, running his finger over the hilt of his hand ax. “It doesn't look like we’re gonna find anything here,” Suzuki thought aloud. “Upstairs was pretty empty other than shark-mouth over here. It’s almost like she was caged up there.”
Sandy crouched beside the head of the hag. She opened its mouth, withdrew a tool from her HUD similar to pliers, and started pulling out the hag’s teeth. “Someone probably locked her up,” Sandy suggested. “She was probably really fucking up whatever is here. Imagine a coven of vamps acting like us?”
Stew’s face went white, and he shot a glance around as if he expected something to swoop down and snatch him up. “Coven,” Stew said weakly, “That sounds like a lot. That sounds like more than one.”
“Probably. You know how literature has been seeded to let humans know what’s really going on? Social vampires didn’t quite catch on, but from what I’ve been reading, vampires are pack hunters.”
The fear had not left Stew’s face. He didn’t look reassured. If anything, he seemed a couple of shades lighter. “So nothing above. Nothing in the middle. Downstairs. We gotta go downstairs?” Stew’s voice was that of a frightened child. The dark was beneath, and Stew did not look like he liked the idea of vampires.
“Yep. So we better find out how to get there.”
They broke apart, each going their own way to look for a way downstairs. Most of the walls were covered in junk or falling apart. A secret entrance would have been obvious. After a bit of time, they all joined up in front of the altar. “Any luck?” Suzuki asked.
Stew and Sandy spoke in unison, saying, “Nope.”
“Fuck. Where the hell could it be?” Stew asked.
Sandy knelt and scrolled through her HUD. “Hold on, I’ve got an idea.” A large, musty tome appeared in her hands. “I figured I’d start taking what you said about trying new kinds of magic seriously. It doesn’t make sense to have two offensive mages, right? So Niv has been helping me with this.” Sandy raised her hand in front of the tome. She closed her eyes, and the book floated into the air. Concentric circles floated above her palms, intricate words forming the circle like a puzzle of fragile rings.
Obviously impressed, Stew leaned in to get a better look at Sandy’s new casting trick. “What does it do?” he asked.
“It’s more nuanced magic. Trap spells. I can give more support now. I’ll still be able to hold my own, but I can work more ritualistic stuff. It’s pretty cool. I’ve been going over it with Niv. Like this one.”
Sandy raised her arms higher, and the book floated closer to her. “Dispel Illusion,” she murmured.
Hot air pulsed through the room. Suzuki felt a wave of heat roll over him. Another sensation quickly followed. It was as if his eyes had suddenly started to see clearer. The room looked sharper, crisper. Suddenly, it was apparent that the walls were not nearly as dilapidated as they had initially looked. In fact, the church was in great condition. It appeared to have been constructed recently.
There was a staircase in the far right corner. Suzuki walked to the stairwell and peered down it. “How’d you do that?” he asked. “Aren’t you out of mana?”
Sandy smiled innocently and flipped her braid over her shoulder. “There’s more than one way to cast magic,” she said. “Staves, wands, channeling magic into items and weapons…that all takes mana. A good book of ritualistic spells hardly burns any. The only downside is it takes longer to cast.”
Stew peered down the dark stairwell. His voice slightly echoed as he spoke. “So we’re going down there? It’s kind of dark.”
Sandy closed her book, squeezed Stew’s butt, and kissed him on the cheek. “Don’t worry, babe, I’ll make sure no more old ladies give you hickeys.”
The hilt of Suzuki’s sword glowed as he pulled it out and pointed it down the stairwell. “Come on,” he said, lamenting the fifty percent. Was that percentage also taking into account whatever was at the end of the stairwell? “We need to stop dicking around and finish this up. We still need to figure out what José wants.”
There were no disagreements. Each of them stared down the stairwell, imagining what it was that lay waiting. Suzuki apprehensive. He hadn’t forgotten that black dread that had welled up in him in the village. Nor did he forget the bizarre pagan sculpture profaning the church’s altar.
Whatever was downstairs was going to be dangerous.
Chapter Fifteen
Cobwebs hung from the ceiling and walls of the stairwell, which was much larger than the one they had climbed to get to the fog hag. The stairs descended into the church in a spiral. Candles were burning on the walls, casting shadows that seemed to move independently. The air was dank and musty, the smell of old death, of decaying walls.
Suzuki couldn’t help but wonder at the construction of the stairwell. The stairs themselves were metalwork so delicate that it felt as if each stair might crumble under their weight. The walls were covered with some kind of luminescent paint that caught the light and seemed to hold it in place. Suzuki noticed that both Sandy and Stew were also interested in the wall paintings. At least it’ll keep Stew calm, Suzuki chuckled to himself.
Before this mission, there hadn’t been much that rattled Stew. Over their last few missions, Stew was the one who had seemed the least fazed by the undead.
It was hard to tell, though. Sandy was always going on about murdering their enemies. Part of Suzuki believed that was a way for Sandy to cover how scared she might actually be, a mask of bravado to hide her fear. There was a while he had thought Stew was doing the same thing, but seeing Stew frightened tossed that thought out of his mind.
Suzuki asked himself why he wasn’t afraid. The last day had been such a flurry of conflicting emotions, Suzuki wasn’t even certain how he felt anymore. Within a twenty-four hour period of time, Suzuki had gone from wanting to kill his friends to wanting to kill himself and everything in between. Walking into a nest of undead vampires seemed like a walk in the park comparatively.
There wasn’t much Suzuki knew about vampires. He had skipped over vampire books and comics; he had thought them too juvenile, something that high-school goth pre-teens read. They seemed to be nothing but shimmering pretty boys and taut young women with ample cleavage. At the time, this seemed way beneath him, but now Suzuki felt a tinge of excitement. This was going to be a whole new experience. The most he knew about vampires was that they drank blood, were sensitive to sunlight and that fire, beheadings, and stakes to the heart would kill them.
Then again—beheadings and stakes to the heart would kill anything.
Maybe there was something about silver in the mix, too. Suzuki wasn’t sure.
Down and down they went into the belly of the church. Suzuki lost track of time. It felt as if they had been walking down the stairs for hours, guided by the faint light of the flickering candles. This could all be an illusion, Suzuki thought. Just like upstairs. Or it could be a trap. Neither he nor Sandy had even bothered to check for any traps. In their excitement, they had rushed and forgotten to be careful. Suzuki made a mental note not to let that happen again. Leaving their bases uncovered could easily result in their deaths.
Being dead wasn’t going to save Beth.
Finally, they got to the bottom of the stairs. A long hallway stretched ahead. There were no more candles. The halls looked as if they were generating their own blackness, not satisfied to merely be the absence of ligh
t.
The darkness ahead had a palpable existence, and Suzuki could taste it on the back of his throat. He asked Sandy if she too could taste the darkness. “I Guess all vamps give off that feeling,” Suzuki said. “I wonder why they shoved the hag all the way up there.”
Sandy stared up the stairwell as if she were retracing her steps along with her thoughts. “Maybe she got too old. Suckhead strength grows the longer they live, or whatever the fuck you want to call it. Maybe the longer she was around, the worse the feelings got.”
“Yeah, this is much more manageable. I still don’t like it though. You think swords will work as well as stakes?”
Stew nodded. “I don’t see why not. They both have pointy bits.”
Suzuki walked toward the entrance of the black hall, Sandy trailing behind him. The dread was building up. There was something dark and difficult for his brain to comprehend deep in the walls of the church catacombs. Stew hadn’t bothered moving to catch up with either Sandy or Suzuki. He was standing further back, closer to the spiral stairs, watching the other two staring down the hall of blackness. Finally, he swallowed hard and came up to join his friends. The three of them stepped into the dark hallway.
At the far end of the hallway, there was a dull amber light that could only be seen once they started walking the length of the passage. The closer they got, the brighter the light. It did not take long until they exited the tunnel and stepped into a large room. The walls were covered with bookcases, and there were multiple leather chairs which looked older than anything Suzuki had ever seen in an antique store.
Chalices covered the tables. The floor had a deep-red carpet, and the walls were covered with red paisley wallpaper. A large, stone cauldron stood in the center of the room, a flaming chandelier floating above it, supported by some kind of magic. The room had the feeling of being an exposed chest, with a beating heart surrounded by blood.
Suzuki walked around the room, looking at each of its individual gothic components. It felt vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite place where he had seen something like this. “I don’t remember anything like this in-game,” Suzuki said. “It feels kinda like that old D&D Ravenloft campaign.”
