A Soul in Torment

by D. J Marteeny

  A Soul in Torment

  Book Three of The Vampire’s Lady Series

  D.J. Marteeny

  and

  Richard Marteeny

  iUniverse, Inc.

  Bloomington

  A Soul in Torment

  Book Three of The Vampire’s Lady Series

  Copyright © 2012

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  iUniverse books may be ordered through booksellers or by contacting:

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  Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any Web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

  Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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  ISBN: 978-1-4759-3883-8 (sc)

  ISBN: 978-1-4759-3885-2 (hc)

  ISBN: 978-1-4759-3884-5 (e)

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2012912544

  iUniverse rev. date: 7/27/2012

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Epilogue

  This book is dedicated to John, Amber, Zak and Chrissy. Thank you for your inspiration and support.

  Prologue

  The ferryman’s fingers gripped the long pole, submerging it into the swampy black waters of the river Styx as he carefully pushed himself away from the jagged shoreline. In his boat was the latest arrival to Hell, a haunted figure, eyes tearstained and blotchy as he gazed in horror at the surrounding landscape of the place he was to call home for all eternity.

  The vessel pushed on through thick, dense fog; the heat rising from the boiling water was suffocating. Finally the boat eased itself onto the opposite shore where the fog dissipates to reveal a quarter of a mile of hot, foul smelling mud flowing towards the castle-like walls of the city of Dis which could be seen off in the distance.

  Phlegyas, as the ferryman was sometimes called, reached down and slowly removed a coin from the mouth of his passenger while the cowering figure fearfully awaited those who would deliver him to the Lord of Darkness. The moment one of the damned arrives in this place it quickly becomes apparent that Dante Alighieri’s depiction of the underworld was eerily accurate. The lost souls soon realize that the nine circles of suffering are all too real. Most find themselves traveling through each dimension, one by one, as they face anguish and torture that grows more intense with each new phase of their journey. Finally they reach his realm—and the ruler of the underworld, himself.

  For some, such as the ferryman’s present guest, there was a direct line to this, the ninth circle of Hell; for Heinrich Klume’s sins against humanity were so heinous that, from the moment he passed into eternal darkness, his soul was ravaged by pain and torment so intense he could only be in one place—Hell!

  As Klume waited, his eyes gazed back out over the black waters, where the violent dance of the souls of the damned was taking place. A dark form, eyes shooting forth red sparks of ember, reached its slimy hand out of the water grasping and clawing at the side of the vessel in an attempt to drag the newcomer into its nightmare. Klume recoiled in fear and revulsion as insane laughter reached his ears, the sound, like sharp claws being dragged across a chalkboard, sent shivers down his spine.

  Huge creatures, black winged and monstrous, were stationed upon the castle walls staring at him with evil grins. The dark angels guarded the entrance to the city of Dis, Lucifer’s home in this place of hopelessness and despair. Their purpose was not to protect this place from those that may try to enter, but to stop those who were foolish enough to think they have even the slightest chance of escaping this pit of suffering.

  Dis was a city of fire and brimstone, home to those cast out with Lucifer long ago. In the center of this vast, underground cavern stood a large hexagonal pyramid created from the blackened, putrid souls of the dead. It was forged from Hell fire and mortared by deeds of hatred, lust, and greed. The pyramid dwarfed anything constructed on earth. Built by the suffering of the unrepentant, its stairs rose up past the clouds of sulfuric gas where a shrine of skulls housed a single throne. Every thirty days the pyramid collapsed in on itself and had to be rebuilt, for there was a never ending supply of the wicked and sinful to accomplish this task.

  Lucifer did not reside in the pyramid as most would assume but, instead, lived in a large temple at the far left end of the city. The streets leading up to this structure were bricked with pain and paved with human tears. His residence was obscenely large and ornate; the singed rococo walls covered in the macabre living portrait of hundreds of his notorious and cherished subjects, their countenances changing daily to accommodate the millions of tortured souls inhabiting the Dark Lord’s domain.

  Of this collection of damned souls the most notable was that of Judas Iscariot as he swung from a dead olive tree while his eyes were being plucked out by crows. Shining, silver pieces, the means of his betrayal of the living Christ, slipped through his agonized fingers and dropped to the dry dusty ground where they transformed into beetles that scurried back up the tree to gnaw on the victim’s putrid flesh. These acts played out over and over again for the express amusement and admiration of the lord of this domain. A disgruntled Lucifer sat in his chair, at his hoofed feet the soul of Stalin was chained in a ring of fire.

  “Damn! Damn! Damn!” Each time this curse was uttered a billion souls instantaneously exploded into shards of matter, their screams of pain echoing throughout Hell. The Lord of Darkness arose and kicked Stalin with his cloven hoof as the tortured soul whimpered in continuous agony.

  Lucifer’s large muscular frame, covered in gray and red flesh, undulated with every move, sparks under his hooves flying out in all directions as he paced back and forth. Flames of fire, like the wicks on a candle, flickered on the tips of his large curved horns as they scraped the scorched and blackened ceiling, his eyes blazing red as he looked for something or someone to take his frustration out on.

  “What’s wrong lover?” A sultry figure lay next to Lucifer’
s chair on a couch covered in hides both human and animal. Red eyed owls perched on the four corners, nibbling on the flesh of the sinful. The woman’s long blonde hair framed the alabaster skin of her face as it cascaded down past the shoulders of a body that could only be described as voluptuous. But this was where any resemblance to her former human existence ended for her feet were like the talons of a bird of prey and her eyes were feral like the demon she had become. She occupied herself as she asked the question, filing her blood red nails to razor sharp points.

  “I had him.” Lucifer ranted, “I had the holy man within my grasp—a priest, one of His own flock—and I lost him!”

  The woman looked down at the empty collar and chain next to her couch, a look of disappointment flashing across her beautiful face.

  “You weren’t the only one that lost on that deal, hon.” The last two words were uttered with disdain. “As I recall the arrangement was that if I agreed to give you Cain, the vampire priest was to be mine.” Her body shuddered, her tongue licking the blood red lips at the delicious thought of the conundrum. A priest who was a vampire—wonderful, she thought. “After all, Cain was my right hand man, an integral part in my own triumvirate. Now, with him gone, my power base is weakened and all I get from you are false promises, empty hopes and meaningless words.” She stared defiantly at the creature she called lord, making sure her insults hit home. “I wanted that priest. He would have been something worth having, a new breed—a first—one of a kind.”

  Lucifer’s horned skull turned slowly, the red eyes blazing fire along his line of sight. “Blah, blah, blah—can it, Lilith—I get it—you’re disappointed. Would you like some cheese to go with that whine?”

  Anger flashed across the beautiful face before the woman forced herself to gain control of her emotions. She knew only too well that an argument with Lucifer was never easily won so she decided to use a more subtle approach. “Disappointed—yes, I am—but it will pass. It’s just—well, it would have been so much fun playing with him, toying with him, watching him struggle. Just imagine it, a holy man who’s now a creature of darkness. Oh the guilt he would possess—a soul that lived in constant torment. You have to admit it was Cain’s crowning glory when he saw to the vampire’s creation. He always was such a resourceful child,” she said with a sly smile.

  “Yeah, yeah—whatever.” Lucifer ranted in disgust. “You can praise Cain all you want. The only thing I was interested in was that damned priest. I must have him! I must have that soul back in my fold. Damn!” Another billion souls exploded as the Lord of the Underworld cursed aloud, their screams echoing throughout the room once again.

  “If you want him so badly why don’t you just go and get him?” The woman asked, growing tired of her master’s ranting. “Since when has anyone ever stopped you from claiming anything your little heart desired?”

  “Really Lilith—I can’t believe you just said that. I— don’t go and get anything as you so eloquently put it, and why? Because I am who I am. I don’t do, I let others do for me. I don’t take, things come to me willingly. Besides, it’s not just the priest that I want—it’s all of them—all of his bloody cohorts.” he raged on.

  “All of them?” she asked in confusion.

  “Yes, all of them, that happy little troop of goodness— the priest, the vampire, or ex-vampire as the case may be, and the slut he professes to love. I was so close to claiming that little Buffy wanna-be; what was her name—Adrianna. Now, she would have gladly given me anything to save the ones she loved—anything! And, if I had her, those two lap dogs of hers would eventually have followed. Hah—a priest and a vampire turned human— falling all over that female like love sick puppies. Damn it!” Again, a billion souls scream out in agony as Lucifer cursed once more. “It would’ve been like winning the Triple Crown— the soul of a human that was once a vampire, a vampire that was once human—as well as a priest —and the woman that loved them both. Imagine the possibilities. But no—instead I had to watch it all slip right through my fingers because Michael had to get all “holier than thou’’ and spoil everything!”

  Lucifer turned around slowly, his ponderous body moving back towards his chair. Upon reaching it, he slumped down, resting his large head in the palm of his hand as he sat there sulking.

  “You know what lover, I don’t like to get involved in your family squabbles but— I really think you’re afraid of Michael,” the woman said as she continued to file her nails, casting a sidelong glance at Lucifer to catch his reaction.

  “Woman, I would watch my mouth if I were you,” hissed Lucifer.

  “Well—it’s painfully obvious you’re not—me, that is…” she replied, getting tired of their petty bickering back and forth. “…because I don’t give a shit about you, Michael, Julian or the bitch! I only want the priest that was promised to me. So—if you won’t get him for me, then I’ll just have to go and get him myself.”

  Lucifer sat back in his chair, an evil smile spreading across his face. “What a wonderful idea. You know my lovely Lilith, sometimes you simply amaze me. If you’re serious, my dear, and if you want that priest so badly, you have my permission to go and get him yourself as you so eloquently put it. I will endeavor to assist you in any way that I can but you understand that I must keep a low profile through the entire affair? You know, with Michael watching us and all.”

  Slowly the woman rose, “Once again your problem has to be solved by a woman—and that’s just how I like it.” Lilith stated. “But I will need help. More precisely, I’ll need the hounds.”

  “Well, last I heard Samael was using them, an arrangement I’m not particularly happy about. So, my dear, if you will wait a moment…” Lucifer’s hulking form rose from his chair. He lifted his hand and snapped his fingers and voila—the beast was transformed into an old man, “…I will make myself a little less conspicuous. Fetching the hounds is something I can help you with.”

  “An old man…” Lilith said as she eyed the ancient figure dressed in shabby clothes and carrying a walking cane, “…really, Lu, is that the best you can do?”

  “This…”he said, swiping his hand down the front of his form, “…serves my purpose. Now, if you want those hounds you’d better follow me. Time grows short, my lovely Lilly, and we have havoc to wreak on earth!”

  Chapter 1

  Silence—not a sound could be heard for miles around—nothing except the soft trickling of a gently flowing stream. The great stag bent its massive head to taste the cold, clear water. It drank long and deeply until, suddenly, it raised its head in alarm. All of the deer’s senses came alive as its nostrils flared—catching the scent of danger flowing towards it on the gentle breeze. The stag sniffed the air, first in one direction then another, as it tried to determine from which direction the threat was approaching.

  All of a sudden the animal froze; standing as still as a statue, listening for any sound that would identify the intruder it knew was near—and getting closer all the time. Knees bent, the deer prepared to flee as terror filled its wildly beating heart. But before it could leap to freedom, it was grabbed from behind, held in a grip of steel as two impossibly strong arms encircled its neck preventing it from going anywhere. The animal’s terrified cries echoed throughout the woods as it bellowed in pain. Something sharp, like the tip of a fine blade, pierced the soft flesh of the deer’s neck as its captor began to drink deeply of the animal’s blood, the source of life for the deer as well as its attacker. The animal struggled to break free but it was hopeless. The frightened deer was no match for the strong arms that held it tightly.

  Soon, the deer began to tire. It ceased to struggle, the loss of blood weakening the great stag. Just as the animal was preparing to surrender its life to its captor, the strong arms released their hold and the deer was set free. It stood on shaky legs for a moment confused and disoriented. But even in its dazed state there was no mistaking the softness of a t
ongue running gently over the two puncture wounds in its neck, stemming the flow of blood, healing the wounds its captor had inflicted. The words, “Go now— you are free—and thank you,” reached the animal’s ears and the deer, with a sudden burst of speed, ran off into the darkness.

  “It’s an animal, my friend. There’s no sin in taking its life if it’s to preserve your own. Humans hunt and eat deer meat all of the time.”

  “I told you before, Simon, I won’t kill—anything. I know it pains you to hear this but, at this stage in my so called life, I really don’t care if I live or die but the hunger rising inside of me takes any decision I may want to make out of my hands. It’s all consuming and I can’t fight against it so I eat—or drink as the case may be—whether I like it or not. But, I do have the choice when it comes to the creature’s survival and I choose life—so I refuse to drain it.”

  “Suit yourself, Priest. I’ve been a vampire too long to understand your scruples—the human emotions you’re still feeling— but I will respect your choice on the matter. Now, to get back to the conversation we were having before our four legged friend decided to surprise us with dinner. You can’t just run off by yourself to face god knows what on your own—no matter what you are—or how prepared you think you are,” the tall, blond vampire tried to explain, the slightest hint of desperation apparent in his voice. He realized his pleas were falling on deaf ears as he stared at the stubborn expression on the face of the man before him.

  “I told you—don’t call me that anymore. The priestly life I once had is dead to me now,” the man replied, his overwhelming despair evident in his words. “The sooner it becomes a distant memory the better I’ll like it. I’ve made my decision, Simon. I’m leaving—alone—and there’s nothing you, or anyone else, can do about it.”