by J. C. Diem
“Team five, you will spread out inside the cavern and fire every weapon you have at your disposal. Do not stop firing until every last one of those ungodly monsters has been sent back to hell where they belong.” The soldiers, a mixture of American and Russian, answered in the affirmative. “Move out!” On the Colonel’s order, we all broke into a jog.
We’d timed our arrival well and reached the cavern entrance only minutes before dawn was about to break. I settled the blanket over my head and tugged it forward so that it covered my face. The sleeves of the coat were long enough to cover my hands when I turned them into fists.
Eyeing me critically, my clone offered its opinion. “All you need is a scythe and you could be the Grim Reaper.” I muffled the laugh that tried to escape me. Tension wound its way up my spine, making me want to hunch my shoulders protectively. I thought the description was rather fitting considering I had been named death.
Sanderson stood from the crouch he’d been in and opened his mouth to issue an order. Hearing multiple heavy footsteps approaching, I hauled him back down again and crouched beside him. “Shh!” I whispered to the group. “I can hear a bunch of imps coming.”
Crouched in tense silence, even the soldiers could hear the approaching group after a minute or so. Grunts, chortles and gurgles of alien language rang out. So did moans, sobs and cries of pain from more humans that had been captured. “Hurry!” an imp shouted to his brethren. “The sun is about to rise!”
They ducked into the crevice and disappeared from view just as the first killing rays of brightness flared to life. My knees would have buckled at the onslaught of intense heat if I’d been standing. Even beneath the cover of the coat and blanket, it was nearly unbearable. My shadow hissed at the brightness and slid beneath the blanket. It flattened itself down until it was only wafer thin and covered me like a second skin.
Hands gripped my arms and I was rushed towards the inviting darkness. Colonel Sanderson himself helped to propel me into the crevice. Staggering deeper inside, I leaned against a wall, wincing away from the light that streamed inside only a few feet away. Smoke rose from the blanket like morning fog rising on a pond.
“Are you alright?” the Colonel asked.
Nodding, I straightened up and shucked off the blanket and coat. They would only slow me down now. “I just needed a second to collect myself. I’m ok now.”
He eyed me dubiously as the first two teams readied themselves. All were kitted out with night vision goggles, assault rifles, pistols, grenades and various other explosive devices. I had two samurai swords and my holy marks. I’d never shot a gun in my life or unlife and would probably blow my own foot off if I tried to use one.
Taking off my backpack, I rummaged around inside and pulled out the last two items that I’d been saving. The heavy metal neckband Emperor Ishida had designed for me would protect me from being beheaded. The fit was a bit snug but breathing wasn’t necessary anymore so it didn’t really matter. The last piece of my suit to be put in place was the red mask. It covered my face from just below my eyes to beneath my chin.
After a surprised double take, the Colonel indicated it was time for me to go. “You have a five minute head start then my men will attempt to free the captives,” he reminded me. “Good luck, Natalie.”
“Roger that, Colonel,” I said and snapped him a salute. I caught his faint smile before I whirled around and took off in a sprint.
I’d watched our infiltrator work his way downwards through the twisting, dark tunnel so knew roughly what to expect. My reflexes had vastly improved after being infected with the blood of four vampires so I avoided crashing into walls. The soldiers thought they were giving me a five minute head start but I knew it would be more like ten or fifteen minutes. It would take them a lot longer than me to work their way down to the cavern of doom.
Slowing down when light bounced off the walls ahead, I very nearly walked into the tail end of the group of imps herding their latest batch of captives. Stepping back into the tunnel, I waited for the group to become small with distance. My clone stood at my shoulder, taking in the vast space in front of us.
Just as my dreams had portrayed, huge bonfires cast flickering light on the rough dirt floor. The walls and ceiling were too distant for the light to reach them completely. Hundreds of cages held the thousands of humans that had been captured to be the imp’s food. Again, just like my dream, they had been stripped of their clothing and of their dignity. They were crammed in together, caked in dirt and stinking of their own waste.
A flash of gold caught my attention. Even from several hundred feet away, I could make out the Comtesse and her remaining retinue of courtiers. Dirty, ragged and wearing the sad remnants of a once beautiful gown, the praying mantis stood beside one of the fires, turning a spit that held a roasting human.
The fact that the remaining vamps were awake during daylight hours meant they were all at least several hundred years old. Apart from the Comtesse, all of the kitchen drudges were being controlled by their shadows. Hers was sulking with its arms crossed, staring at the army of imps jealously. Apparently, it didn’t like being a slave and left the task up to its host.
My satisfaction at seeing the praying mantis reduced to a kitchen maid faded at the sight of the poor roasting human. I could tell by the small size that it was just a child. If I didn’t put an end to the First, more helpless waifs would be spitted, cooked and eaten.
I turned to my clone. “It’s time,” I told it. Shucking off the backpack, I tucked it against the tunnel wall and hoped it would be safe there. It was nearly empty now but it still held one black suit. I would need it if I survived my encounter with the First and his army.
Wringing its hands, it peered into the cavern doubtfully. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Its voice trembled with fear that I secretly shared.
No. “Yes.” God help me. If my plan doesn’t work then it’ll be up to the soldiers to kill the First. I was pretty sure none of them had been fated to face the first vampire to ever be created. If I went down then there was a good chance the entire human race would follow me into death.
My last thought as I left the safety of the tunnel was of Luc. He and our friends depended on me to win this battle. Eventually, their shadows would rise and they would be called to the First as well. Once that happened they would be turned into imp clones and would cease to be themselves. I was their only hope.
Chapter Thirty-One
Stepping into the cavern, I had trouble seeing through my dark clone. It had turned itself into a slump shouldered, hulking shape that no longer resembled my vampire form at all. Peering through a veil of blackness, I shambled along, trying not to trip over rocks.
“Keep up!” the shadow hissed and I hurried forward a couple of steps.
“Slow down a bit. This isn’t a race,” I hissed back. When it dropped its speed, my job of pretending to be possessed became easier.
We skirted around the bonfires, avoiding the Comtesse and her followers. I didn’t want to be discovered before I was ready to face the First. I was working up my courage to do battle with him but I wasn’t quite there yet.
Our path took us alongside the caged humans. Up this close, the smell of human waste, sweat, tears and despair was nearly overwhelming. Against my better judgement, I glanced into a cage as I passed it and spied a familiar little girl. Mirroring my dream, she held her hands up to me, silently begging me to rescue her. Unlike my dream, I didn’t promise her the impossible. If my plan went well, the soldiers would break the captives free. If it didn’t, then she’d die a far quicker and hopefully less painful death than the one the imps had planned for her when the soldiers set off their explosives.
Reaching a wall of grey skinned, seven foot flesh, I started working my way through the crowd. Roughly half of the imps were lying down, deeply asleep and breathing heavily. The rest were still standing but they were far less alert than usual. Most swayed on their feet, blinking slowly and looking even more stupid than
usual.
“Get out of my way,” I said loudly and pompously. “Move it! Coming through.” Used to the posturing of possessed vampires, most of the imps merely grunted irritably and shifted to let me through. Some eyed my red mask in puzzlement but none of them thought to stop me.
A disturbing number of the monsters had bulging stomachs. Reminded of how voracious the imp babies were upon birth, I searched for them but the crowd was too thick to see through. Reaching the edge of the mob, we halted.
“Oh, jeez,” my shadow moaned in my head when we both caught sight of the First. “He’s going to rip us both a new arsehole.”
“Do you even have an arsehole?” I asked it curiously.
“Well…no. It’s just a figure of speech.”
“We’ll be fine if we stick to the plan,” I thought at it reassuringly while secretly thinking we were both about to die.
Peering through a narrow gap between two of the immense offspring, I studied the first of our kind. He sat on his bone throne with his chin resting on a fist, staring at his children. As per my last dream of him, instead of being happy that his plan for world domination was finally being executed, he was brooding. His batlike face had shaped itself into a petulant scowl. Long black claws drummed against the arm of his throne.
Many humans had died over the millennia to make the massive throne. The back, made almost entirely of skulls, towered over the king of the imps. Some of the bones were so ancient that they were turning to dust. The First had plenty of recent victims to replenish the throne with but he hadn’t restored it yet. Maybe he was waiting for total victory before he would bother.
At a slight shifting in the crowd, a bulging stomach was suddenly pressing up against my back. The baby imp inside stretched either its arms or legs, poking me in the kidney. A noise of disgust escaped me before I could contain it.
“Silence!” the First bellowed suddenly and an immediate hush fell over the gathering. “I sense someone…familiar.” Red eyes flared in the darkness and turned unerringly in my direction. “Step forward and show yourself!” he commanded.
Here we go, I said silently to my clone. It’s show time.
We shouldered our way through to the front and stood before the First. Brightening at my appearance, he stood and opened his arms as if to embrace me from afar. “So, one of your shadows has won possession of you and the great Mortis is now just a flesh puppet like the rest of my lesser children.” He roared out guttural laughter at the fate that he mistakenly thought had befallen me. The army of monsters behind me copied his laughter like the brainless clones they were. I doubted if most of them even knew what they were laughing about.
As I’d instructed it to, my shadow covered me from view of the eight foot tall creature. Only brief flashes of my red suit showed each time it shifted uneasily to survey either the crowd or their leader.
Regaining control of himself, the First moved to inspect me. Up close, he reeked even worse than his offspring. Rotting meat was stuck in his elongated teeth. Still tacky juices from his last meal had run down his chin and onto his chest. I doubted that his sweat slicked skin had ever seen a washcloth or even knew what one was.
Trudging in a slow circle, he came to a stop in front of me. “It is far past time that you joined my army, vampire. I only wish that some small part of you was still aware of what is about to happen to you.” Lifting his hands dramatically, he issued the order that I’d been dreading since I’d first witnessed the birth of his offspring in my dreams. “I command you to rise!”
Instead of being sucked inside me then bursting back out as a newborn imp, my shadow reached behind me. Almost casually, it pulled one of my swords free then leaned forward and speared it through the First’s chest.
The father of all imps staggered backwards, staring down at the weapon piercing its heart in stupefied disbelief. A gasp of outraged fury came from ten thousand throats. The sleeping imps stirred uneasily but didn’t wake.
“Did you really think,” the First said as he slowly raised his face to view me, “that you could kill me so easily, Mortis?” He pulled my sword free and threw it aside contemptuously.
“No,” I replied honestly. “But I really hoped I could.”
At the First’s withering glare, my frightened shadow shrank back down to normal size and hid behind me. “It was her idea!” it shouted out loud so its master could hear.
“Cowardly traitor,” I muttered.
Now that I was no longer hidden by my shadow, the First saw me clearly and it was his turn to be frightened. He took in the blood-red mask and matching suit and blanched. His face went a sickly shade of grey-white. “Seize her!” he screeched.
Clawed hands reached for me and I didn’t resist them. There would be no point since I was so badly outnumbered. “Bring her to me,” the First commanded. I was marched forward until he was towering over me. I tilted my head back to meet his blazing red eyes.
“It has been prophesized that your holy marks will be the death of me and mine,” the First said. He whirled around and stomped over to his throne. It was even more monstrous up close with dried blood, skin and even hair hanging off some of the fresher skulls.
Reaching around behind the throne, the First brought out a weapon from the shadows. It was the biggest sword I’d ever seen. Pitted with rust, it was incredibly ancient and appeared not to have been sharpened in the last century or two. I grimaced at the thought of the blunt edge being rammed through me.
Grinning evilly, the First narrowed the distance between us again. “How are you going to destroy me if I take your hands from you?” At his nod, two imps grasped my arms and held them out. The First’s brow wrinkled in puzzlement at the empty openings of my sleeves.
“Surprise,” I said. Before I could unleash my master plan, the gigantic sword was rushing at my neck. The imp on my left lost her head in a wash of black ooze as the sword passed through her first. Then the weapon clanged against the band on my neck. The vibration of metal on metal made my ears ring and I saw double for a few seconds.
Roaring in rage, the First redirected his aim and this time his sword speared into my chest. The sword bounced off the metal plate and I was sent flying backwards, pulling the second imp with me. Caught by multiple grey hands, I was shoved forward again. This time their leader aimed the sword lower. It cut through the suit and exited from my back. The weapon was so long that it also speared another imp that was standing too close behind me. Gurgling out a scream, the unfortunate imp stumbled back, freeing itself from the sword. It fell to its knees while desperately trying to hold its insides in then thudded onto its face.
I faked a yawn, covering my mouth with my empty sleeve. “Nice try,” I taunted the First. “Stabbing me through the guts isn’t going to kill me. I’m a vampire, not a human.”
Yanking his sword free, the leader of the imp army went into a stabbing, slashing frenzy. Without hands, I could do little to defend myself. I managed to dodge some of the blows, doing my best to give the soldiers time to free the captives. One of my lower legs was cut off and dodging suddenly became a lot harder.
Hopping on my remaining leg, I couldn’t avoid the blow the First directed at my neck. He aimed for just above the metal band and my head went flying off into the crowd of imps. Screeching with laughter, they passed my head around like a football. Without my head to direct it, my body fell. The First let out a roar of triumph and proceeded to dismember me.
Despite my best efforts to avoid it, I was soon reduced to ruin. I was in a far worse state than when the Comtesse had ordered her guards to hack me to eleven pieces. This time, I was cut into dozens of pieces. My head was dropped, kicked a few times then booted back towards my body. Red tatters of leather littered the ground and I mourned the demise of my suit.
Panting with effort, the First leaned on his sword and flicked sweat away from his brow with a toss of his head.
“Are you done?” I asked him. His head whipped around at the sound of my voice then came to rest on
my head. The mask was miraculously still tied around my face.
“How are you still alive?” he asked in bewilderment.
“Because I’m Mortis, numb nuts. Did you really think it would be that easy to kill me?” I sent his words back at him mockingly.
My shadow, still intact despite the fact that I was in pieces, stood beside my head. Apparently we were attached by our hair now instead of our feet. “We’re going to kick your arse,” it said with an audible if not visible sneer. Somewhere during the dismemberment, my shadow had gained its backbone.
The First recovered from his fright and barked out what I thought was probably a laugh. “How are you going to accomplish that when I have reduced your body to a jumble of torn flesh?”
“I learned a neat party trick a few months ago,” I told him with a cocky grin. “You’ll love this.” I sent the next thought to my shadow. Can you move my head closer to the rest of me?
“Ok,” it replied then drew back its foot and booted my head over to my hacked up body. It wasn’t quite the style of travel I’d had in mind but it did the job.
As soon as my head came to rest next to my remains, my body parts began to twitch uncontrollably. Before the First and his offspring’s eyes, my bits and pieces began to piece themselves back together. With each part that became reattached, I felt the usual flash of pain. Mercifully, the reattachment happened quickly.
In seconds, I was whole again, apart from my still missing hands. Sadly, I couldn’t say the same for my suit. When I stood, I was mostly naked. Considering I was surrounded by creatures that weren’t human anymore, I didn’t feel as awkward as I would have it they’d been vampires or humans. To the imps, my undead flesh couldn’t even be considered as food let alone as something desirable.
Red eyes bugging out of his grey head, the First was nearly apoplectic with fear and rage. “How is this possible?” he spat.
