The Stone Warriors: Nicodemus

by D. B. Reynolds

  With no visible gesture, Nico caught hold of the wisp of his magic in the vampire’s body, and turning it to flame, scored the inside of the creature’s gut back and forth until his screams were so loud that Nico feared he would wake the neighborhood despite the basement walls and his own spell of silence. When he stopped, the vampire’s head fell forward, blood once more running from his mouth to drip freely onto his chest, though much more of it this time.

  Nico studied him carefully, wanting to be sure he was still alive. But then, he reasoned, if the vampire had died, he would have turned to dust, just as those who’d fought Nico in the alley had done. He made a fresh note of the dusting in his journal, rather than go back and check his entry from that night to be sure he’d included it.

  It took longer for the vampire to recover this time, and when he did, he was noticeably weaker, his hands trembling in the manacles’ grip. “I can be killed, sorcerer. Take care lest you do so before you have your answers.”

  “You’re not the only vampire in the city. If you would rather die than tell me what I want to know, I’ll simply capture another.”

  “You’re going to kill me anyway.”

  “True. So why endure the pain?”

  “Have you never sworn loyalty to anyone?”

  Nico thought of his father who hadn’t asked for an oath of loyalty from his son, but demanded it, then said, “Only to the warriors who fought by my side.”

  “Then you know the answer to your question.”

  “No, I don’t,” he lied. “I would have died to protect them, but I don’t see how suffering endless pain before you die serves your cause. Tell me what I want, and I’ll kill you painlessly.”

  “I don’t trust you.”

  Nico chuckled. “You’re smart not to, though I really would grant you a painless death. It’s your master I want, not you.”

  “And I am sworn to protect him with my life.”

  “Your logic is faulty, but it’s your choice.” With no warning of any kind, Nico shaped his magic into a blade and sliced the vampire’s thigh so deeply that bone was a white accusation in the wound. The vampire screamed before passing out again. Nico cauterized the wound with fire to ensure his captive didn’t bleed to death, then waited dispassionately until the vampire recovered. “I did warn you,” he said.

  “Bastard,” the vampire hissed. “You call me a monster. What are you?”

  “That’s a question I’ve pondered more than once, with no answer. What matters in this moment, however, is only that I’m more powerful than you. I can remove all your limbs one by one, then slice you open and spill your guts onto the floor . . . and still keep you alive to answer my questions. Or, you can tell me what I want to know, and it will end.”

  “I cannot reveal the location of the nest,” he said hopelessly. “It would endanger my master, and I am unable to do that.”

  “Unable. Not simply unwilling, but unable. Interesting.” Nico noted that in his journal before continuing. “What if I ask . . .” He thought for a moment. “What is your name?”

  The vampire blinked in confusion. “Greyson.”

  “And what is the name of the vampire who last slept next to you in the nest?”

  “Aurel,” he said, frowning.

  “And where is the nest in which Aurel might have chosen to sleep this past day?”

  Understanding bloomed on the vampire’s face, followed immediately by consternation. He glanced at Nico, then down again, as if studying the blood on his shirt and the burned flesh around the open gash on his leg. When he looked up, there was determination in his eyes. But determination to do what?

  “Today, Aurel probably chose to sleep—”

  Chapter Ten

  NICODEMUS LEFT Greyson alive, and free of the manacles, though he was instead tightly bound by ropes that were reinforced with magic. He didn’t trust the vampire to have told him the truth, or alternatively, not to have sent him into a trap. He also cast a spell to keep the prisoner unconscious and quiet. A less honest man would have said he did it out of pity for the badly injured vampire, who had to be in considerable pain. But Nico considered himself honest to a fault, and whether that was true or not, the real reason he’d knocked Greyson unconscious was to ensure no one heard his cries and tried to free him. That problem would be solved at daybreak, but there were a few hours yet, so he couldn’t take the chance.

  Greyson hadn’t known the building number of the nest’s location, but he’d provided the cross streets, which was enough for Nico, since it wasn’t far from the basement where they were now.

  With the manacles stowed in a small bag tied to his belt, Nico maintained a casual, long-strided walking pace as he made his way toward the nest. In the neighborhood where his townhouse stood, almost every street had pole-mounted oil lanterns to light the sidewalks through the night. But this one, where the nest was located, had no such amenities. The night was utterly dark, without even a moon to see by. Nico wasn’t bothered by darkness. He could see well in the night, and if he needed to see better, he could provide his own light. Right then, however, he wanted to avoid drawing attention to himself, and glided silently down the narrow, dark streets, hugging the buildings so as to blend in with the shadows. When his destination was in sight, he ducked into the shallow porch of a solid door, and crouched down on his haunches to observe.

  At first, he thought Greyson had steered him wrong. He identified the building easily enough from Greyson’s description, but there was no movement in or out, and nothing to indicate there was anyone inside, much less an entire nest of vampires. He reminded himself, however, that the night was their world. They were most likely out killing more innocents to feed upon, and would return before dawn, which wasn’t far away. His magic told him that the sun’s rise was very near, certainly less than an hour away, so he settled back against the door to watch and wait.

  He’d finally found a comfortable position when a small group of men—vampires he hoped—disappeared into the plain, stone building Greyson had directed him to. The windows on both floors were boarded up, and there was just one door visible. Greyson had admitted, reluctantly, that there was a second exit on the back wall, close to a small private room where the nest’s master vampire slept, usually alone, unless he brought a blood slave back with him. He also revealed the master’s name, which apparently didn’t violate his oath. It was Gauvain Fitzroy, which might have marked him as the bastard son of some royal personage or other. But Greyson had hinted that the royal identifier wasn’t his real name, which Nico tended to believe. If he were ever forced to become a vampire, he would certainly not continue using his true name. He would, however, contrive to end his own life as soon as possible. He couldn’t imagine living as a blood-drinking monster. Never seeing the sun, residing in the gutter end of society, considered unholy at best and demonic at worst, drinking human blood to survive and, the final touch, the loss of his magic. Or so he hoped. Anything else was too horrible to contemplate.

  He would have welcomed the challenge of destroying an entire nest of vampires while they were still awake and able to defend themselves. But such a battle, while stimulating, was contrary to his purpose. His strategy was to wait until after dawn, and then slip into the sleeping nest and capture the master with the manacles.

  While the sun was near, it wasn’t yet light out, and only a few of the vampires had returned. So he bided his time by counting the number of vampires as they entered the nest, listening to what little useful conversation he could overhear, and noting the number of male and female. For reasons he couldn’t explain, there were far more men than women among the turned. Maybe he would ask the master about it before he killed him. Because he would be killing this master. He’d question him at length and pull every possible detail out of him, all the while testing the manacles. But once he’d gotten what he needed from the creature, he would k
ill him and count it a victory for humans everywhere.

  Perhaps because he had nothing to do but wait, it seemed a long time before the sun began its climb up the eastern sky. But eventually Nico considered it safe to go inside. He walked to the vampires’ building and tried the door latch, but as expected, it was secured from the inside. The back door would also be locked, but it was less exposed to the ever-growing number of ordinary people going about their morning business on the street. And it was also closer to the master vampire’s private room.

  Not wasting time, Nico took the side street, until it met up with an alley barely big enough for a small carriage or wagon to use. Taking the alley, he walked to the right building, and knocked at the door, as if expecting an answer. Using that action as a distraction, in the unlikely event anyone was watching, he touched his hand to the latch, and shot a pulse of magic through the door, which destroyed the inside locking bolt and left a small round hole in the wood.

  With no latch to hold it in place, the door swung open on its own. He didn’t expect anyone to challenge him, but he went in prepared, with the knife in one hand and a spell ready to cast in the other. A slice of sunlight penetrated the dark interior through the open door, but he closed it quickly. He wasn’t interested in vampires bursting into flames and causing enough noise to attract notice.

  With his eyes rapidly adjusted to the darkness, he took note of a second row of windows high above the ground floor, most of which were shuttered, rather than boarded over. The shutters were effective, for the most part, but here and there, a sliver of sunlight made its way through a break in the wood or simple poor construction, and admitted enough light for him to see by. And what he saw sent an involuntary and unexpected shudder down his spine.

  The vampires lay in rows, side by side, some on their backs, others curled on their sides like small children hiding from danger. In those areas where the sun had managed to make its way inside, the vampires had left empty spaces much wider than the sunbeams seemed to require. Nico supposed it was to avoid rolling over in one’s sleep and ending up in a pool of sunlight.

  He constructed a mental picture of the nest, memorizing every detail, so that when he returned home, he could sketch what he’d seen. He wasn’t aware of any similar sketches available to researchers, and vowed to distribute his own widely enough that they had a chance of making it into official city records for others to find. He would begin by providing a copy to every member of the group, and hoped that someone among them could draw well enough to prepare better copies for wider distribution. If no one in the group had the skills, then he hoped they’d at least know of someone who could do the job discreetly.

  Once he was convinced he could replicate the scene on paper, he turned to the closed door on his right, which according to Greyson, was where the vampire master slept. This was perhaps the most dangerous part of his mission. If the master was still awake, or if masters possessed some level of immunity to sunlight, he could be walking into a full-scale attack by a powerful vampire. He didn’t know how powerful, or even if this particular master was stronger or weaker than any others in Paris, but he was prepared for whatever attack might come at him.

  The answer was none. No one was waiting for him when he stepped into the master’s private room, nor did the vampire rise to meet him, though Nico remained perfectly still for some minutes, while he scanned the space for any hidden threats. Finding none, he studied the lone vampire in greater detail. The man lay on shimmery gray sheets, with a red silk coverlet pulled to his chest, and his blond hair spread out on a red velvet pillow. Nico had nothing to compare him to, and so made mental notes of every detail—from the vampire’s appearance to an aesthetic appraisal of his clothes and bedding. He’d seen nothing so grand being used by any of the vampires sleeping in the main room, and pictured, somewhat facetiously, the master grabbing his bedding if he ever had to run for his life. Or maybe these had been bought just for this location. Not that it mattered. Everyone in this building would be dead before nightfall. Except the master himself, and he might well be wishing he’d died with the others, once Nico began asking his questions.

  Nico pulled the coverlet off the vampire, and nearly called out in surprise at what he found there. A very young woman, barely old enough to be called a “woman,” lay curled next to Gauvain Fitzroy. The sight both infuriated and disgusted him, and he touched a hand to the girl’s shoulder, wondering if she was human or if she’d been turned for the sole purpose of warming her master’s bed. He couldn’t lay that particular sin on vampires, however, since wealthy human men were also known to purchase young girls for their beds.

  He touched a hand to the girl’s shoulder, trying to wake her. She groaned a protest and opened her eyes long enough to roll over, before closing them again and pulling the coverlet over her head. When she’d rolled, Nico had seen a bloody bitemark on her neck, so either she was human or just turned, possibly that very night. There was too much he didn’t know. Like how did the process of turning work? How long did it take, and how was the master’s blood used? How much blood did they need to survive, as opposed to what they took? Greyson’s reaction had seemed to suggest the amount a vampire needed was small and that killing wasn’t necessary. So why did they kill anyway?

  The master vampire could answer all these questions and more, which brought Nico back to his immediate task. Setting to work, he gently shoved the sleeping blond to one side and covered her once more, since she seemed to prefer it. He then turned the vampire on his stomach and bound his hands first with rope and then with the manacles. He did the same with his ankles, but was forced to use a set of ordinary metal handcuffs. If Nico’s experiments on the amber manacles proved fruitful, perhaps he’d construct a second set to be used on the feet. Or maybe not. He’d become very possessive about his various devices and spells in the last year, as some instinct or elusive foretelling had him worrying about the many constructs he’d created and either lost track of, or in his earlier days, sold to support himself and his army.

  With the master as securely bound as Nico could make him, he wrapped the vampire in one of the red sheets, tied the two ends above his head, and below his feet, then unfolded the length of ordinary black cotton he’d brought along and did the same. He was counting on the two layers of fabric to protect his captive from sunlight, but also to conceal from anyone who might look too closely, that the burden he carried over his shoulder had a very man-like form.

  Stepping to the door, he did a quick scan of the main room, finding it quiet and filled with sleepers. He didn’t hesitate after that, but simply crossed back to the bed, hefted the vampire over his shoulder, and left. Once back on the main street, he hurried toward his own building. It might have been safer to get the master vampire farther from his nest, but Nico had weighed that risk against all the others, and decided to use the building he’d rented.

  Greyson was, of course, already deep in his daylight sleep when Nico unlocked the basement door and pushed his way inside. Placing the master on the cold floor, he stared at Greyson, whose bonds were still tight and undamaged. Nico couldn’t say for sure, but evidence suggested the vampire hadn’t made any attempt to escape. In fact, he appeared to be even more faded and wan than he’d been earlier. The absence of a fresh blood infusion on top of more than a full day spent wearing the manacles seemed to be having a devastating effect on the creature’s health. His bones were showing beneath paper-thin skin like yellowed stones, and the wound on his thigh hadn’t even begun to heal, though vampires’ healing abilities were said to rival those of the most powerful sorcerers.

  Nico considered putting the vampire out of his misery. He’d honestly answered every question asked of him, but Nico was reluctant to surrender such a useful tool. Once he had the master under his control, Greyson would no longer be necessary, but until then . . . . He was briefly reminded of his promise to kill the captive vampire once he’d fulfilled his half of their bar
gain, but Nico could come up with any number of reasons to rationalize keeping the vampire alive a little while longer.

  He could be a cold son of a bitch, but he knew this as well as anyone, and made no excuses for it.

  He shoved the master into the cabinet where he’d originally stored Greyson, and propped the weaker vampire against a wall. Then he sat at the table and opened his journal, wondering why he bothered. He’d always kept a detailed record of the various spells and devices he was working on. Notes on which elements worked or didn’t, any ingredients of materials used. But he had no plans to become a great vampire hunter. He’d only taken it this far in order to assure the magical group of his dedication to the cause, so that they’d be motivated to help him find Sotiris. At this point, he thought, it was mostly habit that had him sitting in this abandoned building writing notes. His sketch of the young woman he’d found in the master’s bed could be useful if she was ever reported missing. He’d never share it with the authorities, but he could plant an anonymous hint about having seen her in the company of vampires. On the other hand, she was already dead to her family. It might be better to leave her missing, rather than raise hopes that he knew would come to nothing.

  With those doubts in mind, he closed his journal without writing anything more, then placed it in his satchel and stood to leave. Regardless of the utility of what he’d learned in the last few nights, he’d definitely made considerable progress in a relatively short period of time, and was confident he’d have something to report to Vital and the group soon. He hoped the next night would be his last visit to this place. The master vampire would spend the day bound by the amber manacles, but there was no guarantee that they would contain him once he woke for the night. That meant Nico would have to be there when the master vampire woke, and be ready with a spell of sufficient power to trap the master in the event he broke free. The tales of garlic or blessed symbols used as weapons against vampires were just that . . . tales. The only real enemy a vampire had was sunlight, and of course, stabbing or beheading, which Nico had already proved to his own satisfaction.