Come The Night

by Armae

  CHAPTER 22

  Lazarus cried out in pain.

  “There must be something you can do for him, Monty.” Neomina hated seeing Lazarus in such a state. The wounds inflicted by the silver chains cuffing his wrists healed on the outside, but underneath the flesh-searing lesions still festered. This, coupled with the agonizing hunger, was pure torture for Lazarus.

  “I am not a full-fledged healer,” said Montgomery. “There is only so much I can do.”

  “But surely he cannot sustain such agony.”

  Unbearable pain showing in his pleading eyes, Lazarus peered at his uncle. “Call on Raphael. As the healer of Paradise, he will come...” He spoke with ragged, gasping breaths.

  “Are you sure of this, Lazarus?” Montgomery asked. “You may not survive his methods.”

  “Then so be it.”

  Montgomery withdrew his hand and stepped away from Lazarus’ bedside. He unfurled his wings and, his palms opened flat to the air above, he raised his arms high to the Heavens. Monty stood with his legs spread wide and firmly planted upon the floor. In Paradisian, the native tongue of angels, he chanted a song of mystical syllables that rang out in the heavy air like a sweet lullaby. Stirred by its hypnotic melody, Neomina listened intently to the mesmerizing chant.

  A misty vapor descended on the chamber and brought with it the exotic scent of burning herbs mixed with the aroma of roses. The ethereal apparition made its way to Lazarus’ bed and stalked his body like a hawk descending upon its prey. The vapor covered him, cocooning his flesh in an envelope of silken mist.

  Neomina watched in awe as the sweet-smelling vapor caressed Lazarus’ body and then became one with him and entered his body with a sudden thrust to the very core of his being.

  Lazarus gasped and then fell silent.

  From the shadows emerged the archangel Raphael, six sets of wings unfurled about his spine. He stood like the mighty Seraph he was, the highest of all angels, and slowly approached Lazarus’ bedside.

  “He dies on this day,” said the archangel.

  The words sliced through Neomina's heart. She ran forward and fell to her knees at the angel's feet and tears welled in her eyes.

  “Please, I beg of you. Whatever it is that I can offer, then take it. But spare Lazarus. He came here to find my father's killer and I am responsible for his present state.”

  The angel gazed down at her and offered his hand. His vibrant, life-filled eyes appeared as endless depths of clear blue sea.

  “You misunderstand, child. Lazarus does not die a physical death, but a spiritual one. He must find the strength to return, to fight. Only if he bears no desire to live will he die a true death.”

  Neomina rose and wiped the tears from her face. She stared down at Lazarus’ motionless body.

  “Why does he not breath?”

  “I am searching his soul,” Raphael said. “Lazarus is in the realm of dreams. I can only search his soul while he sleeps and it is necessary for me to do so if I am to detect the damage that has been done to him.”

  Montgomery stepped forward and leaned in over his nephew's bed. “His wounds run deep both on his flesh and on his soul. Percival is a merciless being that lives to torment and he thrives on such evil. I am shocked at the agony he has inflicted on my nephew.”

  Lazarus gasped.

  Neomina watched in horror as he flailed his arms about, apparently searching for something unseen to her.

  Lazarus recovered his breath, but remained in a dream state. He drew his arms back on the bed and rested them at his sides. A look of relief masked his face.

  Raphael searched Lazarus’ body. His long-fingered hands made circular motions over the sleeping Vampyre's flesh as if scanning for still-unhealed wounds. They stopped over Lazarus’ heart.

  “He harbors all the pain in one central location.”

  Concern in his eyes, Montgomery stared at the healer. “Is it his heart?”

  “Yes.”

  Monty shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He swore an oath in anger.

  “I can offer him only one method of treatment.”

  “And what might that be?”

  Raphael glanced from Neomina to Montgomery.

  “It is alright. You may speak freely in my niece's company.”

  “I can sear both his heart and his soul.”

  “Brand him?” A look of fear flooded Montgomery's face. “But he is Grigori and he is Vampyre.”

  “I can offer him nothing more.”

  Neomina reached for Raphael's arm. Her hold on the angel grew tight from panic.

  “What do you mean? What is it to sear his soul?”

  “It is a form of exorcism known only to the angelic realm. The method is employed in the direst of circumstances. The soul is literally seared by Paradise. The act burns away the evil that torments it. In this case, it could be fatal.”

  Lazarus lifted his hand and clenched his fingers about Raphael's red robe and cinched the fabric into a knot of wrinkles. He pulled, signaling the angel to come nearer.

  “He is waking from the sleep,” said Raphael to Neomina. He leaned in closer to the bed.

  “Do it.” Lazarus spoke through gritted teeth. “For the love of God, free me from this torment. Even if it means my death.” He sucked in a deep breath and released his hold on the healer.

  Raphael placed one hand over Lazarus’ heart and the other over the very core of the Vampyre's body at the seat of the soul, a powerful energy center near the base of the spine. He spread his fingers wide and began to speak in Paradisian. The words flowed from the angel's lips like a continuous stream of thunder. The sound was deafening.

  Neomina stepped back because the intense energy emitting from Raphael pushed her away. She felt the torment in Lazarus strike out at him and fight for its survival. The evil that infested her husband's body did not want to die. Unable to bear witness to his painful ordeal, she turned her head.

  Steaming vapors rose from Lazarus’ heart and soul. A sizzling crackle filled the air. He growled like a wild beast and thrashed about on the bed as Raphael determinedly pursued the darkness that riddled his soul.

  A sudden stillness descended on the room.

  “The deed is done.”

  Neomina turned around at Raphael's words. She saw the angel lift his hands away from Lazarus’ body and then take a step back.

  “Does he...does he still live?”

  “Yes, but the dark sleep blankets him. I did not eradicate the Vampyre that lives in his soul, only the essence of Percival which had tormented him. He needs a great deal of rest.”

  “But what if Percival surfaces?”

  “Lazarus is safe now and Percy can no longer harm him. My crest is branded across his heart and soul. This insignia bearing my name will mark Lazarus as one of my wards and will be visible to all of the Vampyre and to the Trackers. Even the Nephilim will keep their distance.”

  “How can I ever repay you?” Montgomery turned to Raphael. “Lazarus means as much to me as did my son. I will never forget this, brother.”

  “There is no need to ever repay me. I am the healer of Paradise and it is my duty to help those in need of my assistance.” A look of concern crossed his face. “Percival is sure to return. And when he does, he will not be pleased with my work here. He knows nothing of my healing of Lazarus. My power allowed me to shield my presence from him. But I know the Dark Breed well. On many occasions I have encountered them and they can be more ruthless than the devil himself. You might need further assistance in fighting him. If so, I can call on Heaven's army, and as general, the archangel Michael will see to it that his soldiers descend to help you. Do you wish Michael's assistance?”

  Monty turned to Neomina, who stood at Lazarus’ bedside. She peered up at him and shook her head. The angel glanced back to Raphael.

  “No,” he said. “We are prepared to fight Percival. Of that, you can rest assured.”

  “Then I take my leave of you for my job here is finished.” The an
gel stepped back into the shadows from which he came and vanished.

  Lazarus remained lost to the dark sleep.

  CHAPTER 23

  Percival had waited long enough.

  He entered the prison chamber where Lazarus lay captive and reveled in making his presence known. The hissing sound of a serpent's rattle slithered off Percy's tongue as he emerged from the shadows and made his way toward Lazarus’ bed. He moved cautiously, draped in the essence of darkness.

  “Wake, dear cousin,” he whispered, his voice echoing eerily about the cavern.

  Lazarus opened his eyes on the instant.

  Montgomery drew a sword. “Leave him be.”

  “Father,” said Percival. “You really should have come sooner. You missed my childhood, my years of agony. Allow me to show you all that has been lost.”

  Percy backed away from the bed. He faced Montgomery and changed the shape of his form into that of a small boy. He stood in the center of the room and looked battered and beaten. Numerous puncture wounds dotted his neck.

  “This is how you left me,” he said as his eyes turned to flames. He eyed Montgomery with smoldering red orbs that spewed forth burning embers of fire. “This is what I came to be.”

  He changed his form yet again. The tall, well-sculpted figure of a grown man emerged from that of the boy and pointed fangs darted from his mouth. “And this is what I have since become.”

  Percival reverted to his present form. Dressed in black leather and chain mail, he stood tall in the center of the room. “What do you think of me now, Father? Do you like what you see? Do you like my serpent's tongue and my long, matted hair?” He waited for Montgomery to say something, but the angel stood silent. “The Vampyre inside has consumed my soul almost entirely.

  “See what you have missed, Father dear—years of my youth, my adult life, and all my Vampyric existence. What a pity you did not share these with me. Was Lazarus a good substitute? Did he fill the void I left in your soul?”

  “Enough!” Montgomery raised his sword to Percival's throat. “I can bleed you here and now and then take your heart.”

  “Is that not what you came to do? To kill me and steal my soul so I will no longer walk among man?”

  Montgomery closed his eyes and backed away. He took a deep breath. “Do not force me, Percy. My anger and my pain are difficult to contain. Do not play with my emotions. You know nothing of my soul or my heart.”

  “I beg to differ with you on that.”

  In an instant, Percival vanished. He reappeared on the bed. His right hand clutched Lazarus’ hair and bent back his neck. “Tell me he means nothing to you. Tell me and I will let him go.”

  Neomina turned to Montgomery. Don't let him harm Lazarus.

  He can't. If Percival tries he will die. Raphael will see to it.

  Do you not care for your son?

  Monty said nothing. He gave no sign he heard Neomina's shielded thoughts. He stared silently at Percival and his eyes filled with the fear of not knowing what would come next. The Dark Breeder was sure to lash out at him once he realized Lazarus’ soul had been branded by Raphael and such a wrath could be deadly. But Montgomery did nothing. He watched Percival and hoped the Dark Breeder was far too irritated to take the time to detect Raphael's healing.

  “His blood is sweet,” commented Percy. “The essence of Paradise flows freely in my cousin's veins. It's the very same essence that gives life to your soul.” He licked his lips in anticipation of his intended feeding and a devilish grin crossed his face. “To sate my hunger with the elixir of Paradise would be sinful yet delectable. He will add to my powers an immense strength and return to me the soul that is rightfully mine.”

  “There is only one way for that soul to return to you,” said Montgomery. “And that is by your death.”

  “No. Never.” He let Lazarus’ head fall back on the bed and released his hold of the sleeping Vampyre. “How dare you enter my lair and speak of such things. Have you no manners, Father? Have I not been a gracious host and allowed you life without so much as a single attempt at striking you down?”

  Percy rose from the bed and stomped across the room. His heavy walk shook the earthen floor and caused small rocks to fall from the cavern walls. His face only a breath away, he stood before Montgomery.

  “Take me if you wish, but I will not die. I am immune to all death even the one inflicted by the Saint John Stake.”

  Percival faced Neomina. A confused look settled on his brow.

  “What are you thinking, child?”

  She shook her head. A look of fear crossed her face.

  “I don't take kindly to being betrayed, especially by one of my own.” He crossed the room with slow, deliberate steps. His eyes widened and his fangs emerged.

  “You know, don't you?”

  Neomina shook her head a second time.

  “Do not lie to me.”

  He reached out his hand and pulled her by the hair. “Tell me your thoughts, child. Tell me or I'll—”

  “Or you'll what? Kill me?” The sound of fear emerged in her shaky voice.

  “You fight hard to suppress your fear and your anger. I like that in my slaves,” he hissed. He let go of her and pushed her to the floor.

  She froze in mid-fall. Her arms and hands extended before her and held her body levitated.

  Percival watched in horror at the way Neomina showed mastery over her powers.

  “Frightened that you have finally met your match, Percy? Fear is a powerful entity. It can force a soul to find strength and courage when it needs it most.” She spoke to him with growing animosity. “I am not the naïve child you think me to be. You may have murdered my father, drunk the life from my mother, but energy can only be changed in form, never destroyed. In me, my mother and father both run strong. I would rather take my own life than allow your sickening ways to continue. If I die, then so does your soul.”

  With a deadly glare Neomina eyed Percival. “We are one, remember? You made my father and therefore some of your blood flows in my veins. Should I die, you die. But since I am also part Tracker, your individual death need not be mine. You made it so.”

  Percival backed away. He glanced from Montgomery to Lazarus. He could feel Neomina's stare burn into his soul, searing his cold, dead flesh. He growled. It was not supposed to have come to this. The damned woman had pledged her soul to the Trackers and disrupted his plans. She was fully prepared to sacrifice her own soul for the sake of Lazarus and the entire wretched human race. He hated her for that.

  He took a moment to think, to shroud his mind from the unwelcome probing coming from both Neomina and Montgomery. His thoughts were now for him and for him alone. He searched his head for answers.

  The dark gift stirred inside him and caused his anger to grow. Percival knew in an instant that he had to bring Neomina across. He had to show the wretched little wench what life on the other side was like. Lazarus, no doubt, exemplified an existence of peace and contentment. The restored life of the New Breed was nothing like that of the damned. The gift of the Dark Breed would set the woman straight. His state calm, he marched toward Neomina.

  He held out an opened hand and motioned for her to come to him.

  “Never.”

  He gave her a sinister grin. “Oh, but you will.” His eyes grew red, blood-red and deep. He forced the burning flames of his orbs to emerge once more for the sheer madness of striking fear in Neomina's heart. Percy stared at her, probing the depths of her soul, searching for a weakness.

  The thought of Neomina taking her own life in order to stop Percival from his heinous crimes stirred Lazarus from his sleep. He came up behind his cousin and sank his teeth into Percival's neck like a nail driven deep by the pounding of a hammer. Percival never knew what hit him until it did. Lazarus held tight to the Vampyre's body.

  In one swift bite he severed Percy's jugular. Blood poured forth, spilling to the floor. It ran rampant and gushed out everywhere.

  “Give me the stake, Neomin
a,” shouted Montgomery. “Hurry.”

  She reached for the sack that sat at her feet and pulled at its gold cord. The top fell open. Neomina reached inside and withdrew the silver-and-wood weapon. She handed it to Montgomery.

  The angel lunged forward and struck the stake into Percival's heart. His voice taken from him by shock, Percival shuddered in silence. His body shook violently.

  Lazarus released his hold on Percival. He caught Percy's body in his arms. He knelt on the floor and his knees sank into the pool of blood that now flooded the earthen surface.

  Montgomery knelt at Percival's side. He withdrew the Saint John Stake from his son's heart and discarded the weapon.

  “Father,” whispered Percy, his voice returned. He reached out a trembling, weakened hand. “Father, it is I, Lucius. Thank you for freeing me after all these years of torment.”

  “Hush, let your soul be at peace.”

  “No. Allow me this and let me state now my one regret...” Lucius, speaking through Percival's body, paused to catch his breath. “That I never had the chance to love you as a son should love his father. Forgive me...” Percival fell silent as his last breath escaped from his mouth.

  Montgomery cried a river of tears, lifted his arms high to the Heavens and shouted in his native tongue.

  “What is he saying?” asked Neomina.

  “He is pleading with God.” With a pained voice Lazarus translated his uncle's words.

  “As Your holy Son once asked, so now do I, Father. Why have You forsaken me? Why have You shown me such grief? I beg of You. Welcome my son with open arms, for his sins were not of his own making.”

  An army of angels shrouded in glory descended into the cavern. They reached for Lucius’ soul and protectively carried it away to Paradise.

  The cry of the Nephilim sang out in an eerie song as they, too, mourned their loss of Percival, the soul made by their doings.

  CHAPTER 24

  Percival's body vanished after the angels took Lucius’ soul to Paradise. In the aftermath, a welcoming calm descended upon the caverns.