Bram was just about to lunge, to throw himself into battle, when he noticed the vampires jerkily coming to a stop. They were no longer attacking, but instead looked fearfully toward the moonlit sky and began to scream. They covered their faces as they wailed and, one by one, they exploded into flames, their bodies turning to dust.
“What the …?” Bogey exclaimed.
“It’s the least I could do,” came a voice from deep within one of the chamber’s darkened passages.
Desmond St. Laurent emerged from the tunnel, his father helping him along. Both looked as though they’d gone through their own private war.
Their clothes were filthy and torn, the skin of their faces bright pink and sore looking. Douglas’s condition appeared far worse, the claw marks on his face from his earlier meeting with the jaguar guardians made worse by the abrasive dust storm.
“Sorry I’m late,” Dez said.
Bram was happy to see them, his fears that they had been slain in the tunnel leading down to A’Ranka’s prison dissolving as quickly as the surviving vampires had.
“I was concerned,” Bram said.
Dez leaned heavily upon his father. “So were we,” he began to explain. “It got pretty bad in the tunnel; I couldn’t even concentrate long enough to create a shield to protect us. Blacked out and fell the rest of the way. Just woke up a little while ago, heard the commotion, and headed this way. What did I miss?”
Bogey shrugged. “Nothing much, saved the world again.”
“Is that all?” Douglas said with a dismissive wave. “You didn’t need us for that.”
Bram couldn’t help but be disturbed by the look of Douglas St. Laurent. No amount of makeup would be able to make him look natural now.
“But it did look as though you needed a hand with those vampires,” Dez added with a grin.
“What did you do to them?” Bram asked.
“I made them imagine that they were experiencing the brightest and most sunny of summer days.” Dez explained. “Their bodies did the rest.”
Bram nodded, impressed by the way Desmond had utilized his unique abilities, but again reminded of how dangerous the boy’s powers could be.
EPILOGUE
“WELL?” DOUGLAS ST. LAURENT ASKED. “How do I look?”
With his face covered in what looked to be inches of thick makeup, Dez thought that his father looked like something out of a horror movie.
As his father waited for his response, Dez thought about what he had promised Bram he would do.
After their return from the jungle, Dez knew that he had to talk to his father. He could see it in all his teammates’ eyes, and most especially in Bram’s.
Dez knew what he had to do, and would rather have faced a hundred vampires instead.
“That good, huh?” his father said, turning to look at his reflection in a mirror they’d propped against a stack of hardback books. “I just don’t heal like I used to. Maybe if I put a little bit more pink in my cheeks.”
Dez hated to see him that way, all torn up, trying to hide the severity of his injuries. It wasn’t fair to him, and the sickening feeling in the pit of Dez’s belly continued to build as he got closer to doing the right thing.
His mind flashed with scenes of the future, how his life would be without his father by his side. Dez’s eyes started to burn with tears as he imagined not just a single day, but every day without him.
It was more painful than his debilitating medical condition, but he would have allowed himself to experience twice the pain if it meant keeping his father by his side.
But that wasn’t the case.
His father was doing something with the makeup kit, and Dez decided that it was time. He’d promised Bram that he would do this now.
“Dad?”
His father turned, one of his pale cheeks a brighter shade of artificial red. “Yeah, son?”
“I think we need to talk,” Dez said, already starting to feel his hold upon his father’s existence begin to loosen.
“Sure, what about?” his father asked, coming to sit upon the edge of the bed beside him.
Dez began to talk, the hardest words that he had ever spoken coming from his mouth.
He would rather have been fighting vampires.
Bram stood in front of the cracked mirror in his father’s old office and admired the cut of the uniform he was wearing. He turned to the side, stepping back a bit to check the length of the pants.
Stitch had done an excellent job, adding tailor to his many other skills.
He was wearing the uniform of a Brimstone Network officer. They had found the uniforms in one of the many storage closets after returning from their last mission, and it was then that Bram had made up his mind.
The world needed to know about them.
The world needed to know that the Brimstone Network was still alive and protecting them.
The newspapers and television broadcasts were electric with the latest calamity to besiege the world; the sun being blotted out—even temporarily—was enough to push civilization that much closer to utter despair.
That had only helped him to make his decision.
He’d told the others what he was thinking, and though he was still a bit unsure about the safety to himself and to his team, he knew that it was the right thing to do.
Bram turned to look at himself from another angle. The uniform fit him well, and he wished that his father could be there to seeing him wearing the blue and gray of the Network.
There was a rapping at the door and he took the chance for one more look. He guessed he looked fine but was still unsure.
“Just about ready?” Stitch asked, coming into the room. The patchwork man was wearing his usual dark clothing, except for a Network jacket. He had a hard time finding a uniform that comfortably fit his unusually proportioned form.
“I think I am,” Bram said.
It itches,” Bogey said, squirming and pulling at the uniform collar around his neck.
“You can take it off just as soon as the press conference is done, all right?” Emily whispered, adjusting her own uniform jacket.
“Hope I make it that long,” the Mauthe Dhoog muttered, but Emily wasn’t listening.
They were standing on a platform outside the Brimstone Network Headquarters, in front of a horde of reporters, and Emily couldn’t imagine a worse place to be—although that pyramid in the jungle did run a close second. It was Bram’s idea to have a news conference.
And where the heck is he, anyway?
Her eyes scanned the crowed before her, searching for familiar faces.
She’d called her parents as soon as she’d returned from the mission in the jungle to let them know that she was all right, and when she knew what Bram was planning, had invited them to the ceremony.
She wanted them to know what they were doing … what she was doing. Emily wanted them to know that she wasn’t just a monster.
But as she studied each and every face in the crowd, she did not see them, and felt her mood begin to darken.
The crowd began to buzz as Bram finally entered. She couldn’t wait to get back inside, to go to her room and lose herself in the foul mood that was forming.
Bogey’s elbow suddenly connected with her ribs and she winced. She didn’t react, knowing that this was likely what the Mauthe Dhoog was looking for. When he nailed her again, she almost allowed herself to transform, wondering if it was possible to swallow the little pain in the butt with one bite.
“Quit it, or I’ll bite your stupid head off,” she said, turning to glare at him. She felt her teeth become more pronounced, her skin begin to burn and prickle.
“Might want to hold off eating me until later,” the little creature said, pointing to her left.
She turned and nearly began to cry when she saw them.
Her mother and father waved from within the crowd, no fear or disgust showing in their eyes.
And they’d brought her flowers.
Stitch at his side, Bra
m headed for the platform, hearing the buzz of excitement as he passed through the crowd.
He stood before the microphone, adjusting it to his height, and then looked out over the crowd that had gathered. He saw the faces of reporters from all over the world, but he also saw the faces of everyday citizens eager to hear what he could possibly have to say.
Bram hoped that he didn’t disappoint them.
“Good afternoon,” Bram said, temporarily startled by the sound of his own voice.
“I’m Abraham Stone.” He paused, making eye contact with each and every one present.
“Leader of the Brimstone Network.”
The Shroud of A'Ranka (Brimstone Network Trilogy) Page 17
