None of the sisters seemed to care that they stood coverless on the streets. The firepower the warlocks sent their way was negated upon impact of the scorched circle the lightning cared into the earth. Someone, likely their goddess, lent the Sisters of Salem their power and the sisters intended to see it properly put to use.
Lukas couldn’t believe it. Where the vampires and the werewolves failed, the sisters led the way. “Well I’ll be damned. That’s one hell of an entrance.”
With the warlocks unable to penetrate their supernatural barrier they could either fall or flee as the elements were hurled against them. Since no berserker had ever fled a battle before, the warlocks at the forefront chose to die with honor. Fewer and fewer the masses of black became until not a single one of them was left standing.
“Elsa!” shouted Lukas as he neared the front lines. “You did it! I knew you’d find them!”
He could’ve yelled as loud as he wanted and it wouldn’t have made any difference. The unknown girl wasn’t on this world. She was lost to the sight before her and not a single thing Lukas said would have gotten through. Elsa broke from the ranks of the sisters and headed towards the clump of white on the fringe of the road.
“Father!” her cry broke out amid the flames that spread all over. “Are you okay? Tell me you’re okay!”
Elsa passed the threshold of the scorched earth and kept her eyes on her father as she pounded down the street. It was a reunion not meant to take place and a sudden shift in wind triggered events that split father from daughter for a second time in one night.
“Look out!” Gemma hollered in distress, but it was already too late. “Elsa—!”
Events had already been put in motion in regards to Elsa Dukane. A weight was thrust against Elsa that displaced her feet from the ground. She crashed against the sidewalk, her fall broken by the wrapped arms of Lukas Wendish.
Her heart fluttered from the sudden rush of love Elsa had for her father, but none of that compared to the floodgates that would open for her next. A panel van soared through the air above 1st Street and struck the shield that protected the sisters from harm. The car exploded into a fiery wreck, but none of the damaged seemed to pierce the scorched earth.
Every one of their supernatural fears soon came into fruition as another mass of robed berserkers turned to meet them in the street. These warlocks were led by one familiar to all, free from any type of wound that might accompany being buried alive.
It was a bald-headed Hans Brackhaus that led the charge against the monsters this time. He alone walked into the Sunkeeper chamber before it fell. It rekindled his connection to the powers of the ancients and saw his powers increased beyond measure. He commanded those gathered by his side to open fire on the sisters, and once again, all hell broke out upon the streets of Salem.
The few vehicles parked in the street were used by Hans to strike at the shield above while his brothers pummeled it from below. It started with a bolt of lightning that narrowly missed one of the sisters, but soon more elemental projectiles began to pass through the scorched circle.
“Find cover in the back alleys!” the high priestess said with her long, chestnut hair blown back from the pressure unleashed in her hands. “There will be no heroes! Do all of you hear that? I want no goddamn heroes in my coven!”
While her sisters moved back for cover Cetra pressed forward against the brotherhood that raced down 1st Street.
“I’ve got your back,” Gemma Kohl said from behind a bus stop sign. “Let me lend you my strength.”
“No,” barked Cetra, “hold your ground! This battle is mine!”
This was the goddess’ downfall. Not hers. Yet, the high priestess took it upon her all the same. Cetra would see the goddess’ plan corrected and it would be by her hand or none other.
Lukas Wendish stood apart from the fray with his arms wrapped around Elsa. She fought him all the while, but his grip held firm as the street erupted into chaos. The war between the witches and the warlocks was unlike anything he’d seen before. All the colors of the rainbow were thrown back and forth between the two sides while warlocks and witches took to cover behind alleyways, bus stops, and what few vehicles still remained grounded to the road. The witches, once stoic and seemingly incapable of harm, appeared less like the mystical naturists Lukas always imagined. Now they took the shape of Amazonian commandos, armed with weapons of elemental mass destruction.
Cetra Altaras never wanted this war, but it wouldn’t be the first time war had come to the Sisters of Salem. They knew persecution over the years and they knew it well, but not once did the sisters crumble under the weight of the goddess and her clandestine plans.
With hands ablaze she struck down warlock after warlock on the street as she moved forward towards the center of the black horde. That plan came unraveled with a sudden burst of black smoke that appeared in front of her.
It was Hans Brackhaus that came for the high priestess and in both his hands was a claymore that burned with the fires of his kind. He rushed towards Cetra with that sword raised above his bald head. A fireball was hurtled in his direction, but a slice from his imbued sword saw the attack deflected.
“Long have I waited for this meeting,” Hans said. He took a horizontal swipe at his brown robed opponent and when it missed he took another one. “Working beside you all those years… forced to keep my true nature from you… and lesser beings.”
“You’ll have to do better than that,” Cetra said as her svelte frame missed the blade yet again.
Cetra wanted him closer when he finally took the bait, but when he took yet another hefty cleave with his claymore, she pressed her advantage and walked straight through Hans’ assault. She struck him across the chin that caused an explosion to spread across the warlock’s face.
“I’m going to send you to your goddess in a hundred pieces,” Hans shouted at the top of his lungs, “you miserable witch!”
The right side of his face was burned beyond recognition, but that didn’t stop the self-proclaimed king of the warlocks from his endless blitz of steel and fire. Cetra might’ve been faster, but Hans fought with powers that went unknown for many years. They built Salem, alongside Victor Dukane and the deceased Bernhard Wendish, and while Hans knew the truth behind Cetra’s human veneer she remained in the dark for all those years. Hans played her. He played them all. And he did it from the start.
“The Sunkeeper Temple is no more,” he said, wistfully and between blows. “I alone basked in the inner chamber’s radiance before it crumbled. I alone have the power to see our people into a new age. Don’t fret, high priestess, your sisters will be allowed into my kingdom… when I have your severed head upon my throne!”
Hans turned his blade towards the ground and raced back towards Cetra with all the strength given to him by dead gods. She could hardly keep up between the swipes of his sword and intermittent bolts of lightning, but a moment of clarity allowed her to fire off a blast of liquid fire that struck Hans square in the chest.
Hans stopped in his tracks. He stood there, lurched over, with his sword clattering on the pavement as it hung precariously in his hands.
“You sadden me, high priestess,” said Hans, now struck with a manic bout of laughter. “I expected more from those sent to replace us!”
Hans arched his back to showcase the damage wrought to his robes, but upon his flesh there wasn’t a noticeable mark of any sort. With his claymore now firmly in grip he ran headfirst back into the duel. He knew the priestess would have a plan for his approach, but now that he’d seen her worst he didn’t rightly care.
Hans took another two blows to the chest before he met her on equal grounds and used his blade to swipe her feet out from under her. Cetra crashed to the ground, but despite the pain she endured, remained silent. If any of her sisters were to intervene they would already be dead. She couldn’t have that on her shoulders. This was still her battle, only now she realized it wasn’t one the goddess could win.
“Ho
w can you fight for them?” Hans sneered at her foolish displays of defense. He realized that his ancient blade was not needed for what came next and dropped it to the ground before him.
“I don’t fight for the likes of them,” Cetra said as flecks of blood touched her lips. “I fight against the likes of you.”
“You did,” he corrected.
Hans clasped his hands together, only to see them ripped apart in a furious sweeping motion. In the once empty air between his hands now dozens of swirling black energy filled the void.
“Your pillar still remains connected to this world, doesn’t it?” Hans asked as his hands lingered from her body. “I knew you weren’t that powerful to pull something like that off. There may yet be a silver lining in this night, high priestess. Your grand display of strength back there only further my resolve to burn your town alive. Your secrets will be mine and then the country beyond will know of our kind… and then they, too, will fall.”
“Never,” Cetra said with eyes closed shut. “The goddess will never allow it.”
“I’ve heard ‘never’ before,” he said, laughing as the dark energy drew near. “After a while it starts to become dead air.”
Cetra believed the last thing she would hear was the sound of the dead souls that writhed in agony between the fingers of Hans Brackhaus. Yet, no such end came, and when the high priestess opened her eyes she watched the warlock king do battle with another.
A black noose was throttled around the throat of Hans Brackhaus, but there was no intent to pull or break. It began to thin and thin, until the ethereal black noose had turned into a razor wire.
“Filthy vampire,” Hans croaked before he disappeared into a smoky haze. “I’ll see you in Hell!”
Hans burst back into reality across the street where he immediately set upon Remus Castalon with a forceful bolt of hellfire. The blast struck the vampire king as he lay perched on a stone figure atop the carnage, but he fell neither into the building, nor to the ground below. Remus was swallowed whole by the shadows behind where the shroud waited its weakened tormentor.
Hans was allowed to savor his victory for a few fleeted moments before a powerful blast of white light caused him to stumble. Then another discharge struck him and Hans was placed the same pavement he put many others.
“Well, this is a surprise,” Hans said with his eyes on his next opponent, “Daddy’s little girl joins him in his most foolish of battles.”
“You’re damn right I am,” said Elsa, for the first time proud of that label. She stepped towards him with hands beside her in white rage. “My father trusted you. He believed in you. He spent hours locked away in the night when he should’ve been there for his own flesh and blood! I can’t fault him for those decisions. Not anymore. I can fault you, however…”
Hans scrambled towards his claymore, but a wave of white crashed against the sword first and knocked it back to witches entrenched in a battle of their own.
“For better or worse, my father made me what I am today.” Elsa sauntered towards the warlock as if there wasn’t a force on this world that could do her harm. “I don’t know if I’m a force for good in this world or a force for evil. The truth is that I may never know, old man Brackhaus, but there is one thing in this world I do know.”
“Get back!” Hans bellowed.
Hans refused to show his opponent any weakness, and while he stood without sword, he wasn’t without his weapons. He had more than enough tools to finish this opponent and then he would return to slay the high priestess and her followers. The unknown girl only stood to delay the inevitable.
“I know now what needs to be done,” Elsa said. Her eyes burst into the same flames the warlock king saw in the eyes of her father. “I need to let the monster out. I need to feast.”
What Hans saw in those fires incensed him into a blind rage. He saw the destruction of his life’s goals, and while they might one day unearth the Sunkeeper Temple it would never be what it once was. Whatever these two beings were, they were responsible for all the loss in his sheltered world. The father knew pain. Now it was time for the daughter.
“Your kind destroyed our temple!” Hans frothed at the mouth. His arm was extended to his side where an open palm saw a dark mass of energy began to take shape. “If your father is no use to us then you’ll have to make do, little girl. I’ll rip that light out of you if it’s the last thing I do!”
An ethereal sword took shape in Hans’ hand to replace the one he lost and immediately set to the task to eliminating Elsa Dukane from this world. He soon found that to be more of a challenge than he first imagined and any attempt made to cut through unknown girl was seen wide of its mark.
Elsa fought like a woman possessed as she danced in the night, always out of reach for the warlock king’s sword to harm her, but even the best she had to offered couldn’t avert all blows that came her way. Hans lashed out and struck, not with his steel, but the winds channeled in the blade’s wake.
Elsa was thrown through the air and into an abandoned lot tucked into in the middle of the commerce district. She shrugged off the assault, but hadn’t a moment to recover before Hans Brackhaus came for her once again. He appeared in a cloud of black smoke and moved to continue their altercation with black sword in hand. She moved to defend herself, but it turned out that there was another more willing to do that job for her.
Lukas Wendish struck at the warlock king with everything he had left in his furred tank. He continued to pummel on Hans Brackhaus until his knuckles were covered in blood, but when Lukas looked upon the flesh of opponent he found it unmarked. It was Lukas’ own blood on his hands and that blood continued to burn right down to the bone.
“What did you do t-to me?”
“Nothing you didn’t bring upon yourself,” Hans replied. “Mangy dogs are beneath me; no matter the shape they come in.”
He put the boot to Lukas Wendish that sent the young werewolf back to his brothers in waiting and out of his way. He casually looked towards the unknown girl, as if he’d done nothing out of sorts, and said, “Now where were we?”
Elsa had one move and she wasn’t particularly adept in its use. Whatever secrets Elsa Dukane inherited from her father were beyond her on this night. She would have to make do and let her other guide her to see their vested interests to completion.
Only Elsa wasn’t alone in this fight and she soon found another to join the battle in her name.
“Your time is at hand, dark one,” said Gemma Kohl with hands of frozen fury. “This is for Charleston!”
She unleashed a frozen orb that saw the foot of Hans Brackhaus frozen to the ground, and when the warlock king moved to free himself, she struck him in the chest with her own brand of fiery wrath. Gemma waited patiently for a response, ready to fire again if needed.
She knew her reserves were low and that she wouldn’t be able to keep up this pace for long. That wouldn’t keep her from being there for a friend in need.
“Interesting,” said Hans, heaved over with his hands around his stomach, “you pack a tougher punch than your high priestess. You’ll make a fine addition to our new world.”
A hoarse laughter started to emanate from the gut of the warlock king and it soon spread throughout the abandoned lot. Gemma panicked and fired multiple bursts of energy into her dark robed opponent, but none of them appeared to do any good. When she moved to strike for the last time, Hans reached out and struck her with a bolt of lightning. She crashed into the pavement and rolled to a dead stop as the steam sizzled from her body.
“Hold on, Gem!” Elsa reached out to lend her friend aid, but a familiar foe arrived to do just that in her stead. It was the man in black, freed from the confines of the shroud and ready to act. He scooped the limp body of Gemma Kohl into his arms and looked back to Elsa Dukane to convey his findings.
A stiff grin crept over Remus’ face to let Elsa know her friend still lived. They began to melt into their own shadows on the ground and away from the further harm. He woul
dn’t tell any of them how he managed to come back. Only those that knew the shroud’s embrace would understand the sacrifice he made. Only they could judge him.
“Shall we?” asked Hans Brackhaus, taking a formal bow towards, Elsa Dukane, a most surprisingly capable foe. He never could’ve envisioned one so svelte, so young, to be the one to grant him the honorable kill he desired. He’d slain vampires, werewolves, and witches tonight, but still, Elsa and her father drew breath. Despite these failings of his, he would take what was given and he would take it with a wide-set smirk upon his face.
He reviled in the bloodlust and looked over to a black horde of brothers that would soon break the witches and their hold over Salem. “If another brother fells the high priestess before I arrive, I’ll gut you as I did the mayor!”
Elsa charged towards Hans, but in her enraged state she left her mind open for penetration. She was caught in the warlock king’s cerebral web, unable to make any sort of move against him.
Hans Brackhaus took his time to approach and made sure the warrior of light could see the blade of evil spirits he carried beside him.
It was that sword Hans now used to puncture Elsa’s flesh as if it were butter.
“Oh,” said Hans with a devilish twinkle in his eye, “you didn’t expect it to hurt that bad?”
She didn’t, in fact, and as the sword removed itself from her side, Elsa found the wound refused to heal. She could feel the blood inch its way up her throat, the numbing sensation of adrenaline not far behind.
When Hans saw for himself how his otherworldly blade had affected the unknown girl, he stabbed her again and again with a vehement passion. “I want to know what you are! You and your father played me for the fool. I, the goddamn king of kings, made to appear as though a simpleminded commoner! I’ll come to know your secrets, girl, or I’ll see them burned from this world!”
It wasn’t Elsa the warlock king loathed. Nor was it her father. It was the humiliation he endured at the hands of beings he considered his lesser. The brotherhood was a vast network of sleeper agents and shell corporations that spanned borders. Because of this, they relied on information and secrecy to keep their lines of communication open. To have his authority tested by one he brought into the fold was too much for his prodigious ego to handle. He needed to be done with them.
Night Kings: The Complete Anthology Page 30
