by S. J. West
In 1445, another military campaign was waged against the sultan by a man known as The White Knight, Jonas Hunyadi. Vlad’s father didn’t take up arms himself and participate in the fighting, but he did send in 4,000 cavalry lead by his son Mircea. I’m sure Vlad II thought that not personally fighting in the battles would appease the sultan and keep him from harming his sons, but it didn’t.
After learning about Vlad II’s treachery, we were ordered to take Vlad and Radu to the dungeons in the palace. We were instructed to flog them both every day and starve them for long periods.
One day in particular stands out in my memory most among all the others. Vlad had shown his insolence one too many times, and I was ordered to flog him for twice as long. Afterwards, I noticed he didn’t pray to God. He simply lay on the cold stone floor, unmoving. I went to him and rolled him over to make sure he was still alive. His eyes were unblinking as he stared up at the ceiling. I thought, perhaps, I had broken his mind. So, I dumped a bucket of water onto his face. He sputtered and sat up, glaring at me with pure hatred, assuring me he still had his wits about him.
“Where are your prayers today, boy?” I asked mockingly. “Has your God abandoned you?”
“He will save me when the time is right,” Vlad said, still impudent in his beliefs.
My anger boiled to the surface again, and I grabbed him by the hair on the top of his head, yanking him to his feet. I forced him to look out the small window of his dungeon cell into the courtyard below. The screams and groans of agony from those being tortured could be heard clearly.
“Do you see those people down there?” I asked him harshly, forcing him to look at the less fortunate prisoners of the sultan.
Some prisoners were lucky enough to just have their heads cut from their bodies. Others were fed alive to wild animals while the most unfortunate of all were impaled on wooden pikes.
Vlad struggled against me so he didn’t have to witness the barbarism of the Turks, but I forced him to watch, taking pleasure in shocking him.
I leaned in close to one of his ears and whispered, “Do you know why the sultan tortures people like that?”
Vlad hesitated, and then shook his head.
“Because it instills fear,” I told him. “Fear can be the greatest weapon utilized in a war if you use it effectively. People revere brutality more than they do kindness.”
“That’s not true,” Vlad argued, again trying to break free of my hold. Of course, his attempts were all in vain.
I forced him to keep looking out the window.
“Who would you willingly give your allegiance to: a master who tells you the world is filled with love and good intentions or one who tells you the truth and doesn’t make excuses when he whips you into submission? Life isn’t a fairytale. There are no happy endings.”
Each day after, I flogged Vlad and then forced him to watch the torture of those less fortunate than him occurring right outside his window. Eventually, his mind broke from what he was made to witness. Whose wouldn’t?
When Vlad turned seventeen, he was released from the sultan’s prison after his family was massacred by The White Knight. The sultan gave him a command post in his cavalry to provide him the means with which to avenge the murder of his family. We released a cunning mad man onto the world and watched as he sought his revenge on those who butchered his loved ones.
The history books say Vlad murdered thousands, possibly a hundred thousand people, by various means of torture ranging from boiling them alive to impalement. I feel responsible for every one of those deaths. I may not have personally killed his victims, but I helped forge the weapon that did. By the time Vlad was released from the sultan’s prison, he was a homicidal maniac. Yet, I didn’t care because I was just as broken as he was.
Baruch and I stayed in the service of Sultan Murad II and his son Mehmed II. After Mehmed was able to bring about the fall of Constantinople in 1453 and mark the end of the Holy Roman Empire’s control over the city, we left the service of the Ottoman Empire and moved on. Justin never said it, but both Baruch and I assumed that was the main purpose of our being in the service of the Turks. We helped bring down one of Rome’s holiest cities and returned it to pagan hands.
It was a strike against our father’s control over humanity, and in the state of mind I was in at the time, I felt overjoyed that I played a part in it.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
You’ve asked me a few times in the last couple of years why Malcom had such an adverse reaction to us being soulmates. I’ve purposely sidestepped answering the question without any specific details. The reason involves discussing a childish rivalry Malcolm and I used to be involved in with one another. I want you to know that I write the following with his full consent and knowledge. Neither of us is particularly proud of what we did, but it is a part of our shared history. You need to know what Malcolm saw me do to fully grasp why he was so against us in the beginning.
Around the mid-1480s, Justin called us all together for a Watcher tournament. I had been looking forward to one of these events since the moment Baruch mentioned it to me. I was itching to fight opponents who could last more than a few seconds against me. Humans were no challenge for me in hand-to-hand combat. To my great disappointment, Baruch refused to spar with me while we were in the service of the Turks. He would always come up with one lame excuse after another for not wanting to fight me. Personally, I always thought he was fearful he wouldn’t be able to match me or even keep up with my combat skills. I didn’t voice my assumption, but I felt sure he knew what I was thinking. At the time, I was arrogant enough to let my own opinion of myself boost an already inflated ego. I’m so glad you never knew me during that time in my life. You would have hated me, soulmate or not.
Baruch phased me to the meeting place since he had been there several times before over the years. It happened to be Justin’s private getaway home located on an uncharted island off the coast of India. The house itself was in the style of an Italian villa with its square architecture, arched floor length windows, and white stone construction.
We phased directly onto the beach area at the backside of the house. It was nighttime in that part of the world, but bon fires had been lit around the area we were standing in to provide plenty of illumination. It appeared to me from the crowd already present that we were the last to arrive. Almost all of the Watchers had their children with them. Since it was nighttime, their offspring were all in werewolf form. It appeared that the only Watcher who didn’t bring their child with them to the festivities was Malcolm.
“Better late than never, I suppose,” Malcolm said when he saw us phase in. “Trying to keep him all to yourself, Baruch?”
The scathing look Baruch gave Malcolm spoke volumes about how much the two of them hated one another.
“He’s all yours, Malcolm,” Baruch said. “In fact, I’ll be bowing out of this particular tournament just so you can have his undivided attention.”
Malcolm started to laugh. “Are you that scared of getting beat by one of us, Baruch? I never took you for a coward. I suppose I’ll need to change that particular opinion.”
Baruch was about to make what was sure to be a harsh retort but Justin interceded before he could.
“Now, now,” Justin said with his transformed son walking by his side, “what sort of welcome is this for the final and newest member to join our ranks? It’s his first time with all of us together. At least pretend to act civil, even if you do hate one another.”
“Don’t feel that you need to pretend on my account,” I was quick to say. “This little squabble is rather amusing to watch.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re amused,” Baruch said heatedly, as if he was offended by my comment.
“Perhaps you should leave if you don’t intend to play,” Justin told Baruch. “Your attitude is in need of some adjusting.”
“Fine,” Baruch said. “I have more pressing matters to attend to anyway. Have fun in your little game.”
Baruc
h left us and Malcolm just shook his head as he looked at Baruch’s phase trail.
“We’re better off without him being here,” Malcolm told me. “He never presents much of a challenge anyway.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I replied. “He always refuses to spar with me.”
Malcolm laughed. “Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“All right,” Justin said, regaining everyone’s attention, “that’s enough Baruch bashing for one evening. Let’s get this tourney started, shall we?”
All of the other Watchers gathered around us. Jered and Slade were there. Back then, I didn’t know either one of them very well. They were both in the Vanguard in Heaven, but I had very limited contact with them. It wasn’t until after the Tear was opened that I got to know Slade, and you already know Jered was late in joining our side.
“I hope you don’t mind me interrupting the festivities for a moment,” a new, yet familiar, voice said to the group.
We all automatically knew who it was before any of us turned to look at Mason.
“What are you doing here?” Justin asked Mason, as surprised as anyone that he was present. “How did you even find us?”
I felt a bit aggravated by Mason’s presence because I knew exactly how he found us because Desmond was standing at Mason’s side.
Over the years, Desmond made a point of visiting me on the anniversary of Carrig’s death no matter where I was or what I was doing. In a way, I appreciated him keeping in contact. I felt like he was the only person in the universe who cared about what happened to me. It was obvious our father didn’t deem any of us worthy enough to speak to anymore.
Desmond always kept his faith that I would find a reason to change my ways. He refused to accept what I had become and always urged me to find the good inside myself again before I completely damned my soul. Back then, I deemed my soul past the point of saving. Yet, Desmond stayed true to me even through the worst of my depraved behavior.
I had told Desmond on his last visit to me that we would be having this tournament on this particular night. I could only assume he had been watching for Baruch and me to phase so he could show Mason where we were. The only thing I didn’t understand was why they were there.
“How I found you is irrelevant,” Mason told Justin, sounding as authoritative as he always had.
“Then why are you here? Or is your reason just as irrelevant?” Justin asked snidely.
“I’m here because I still care about all of you,” Mason said, looking at us so we knew his words were true and heartfelt. “None of you have come to meet me in the desert after our fall. I’ve waited there every year hoping that some of you would want to change your ways. Since you won’t come to me, I decided it was time I came to you. Once I learned about this little get together, I saw my chance to talk to all of you at once.”
“I don’t think any of us care about what you have to say,” Justin said with arrogant certainty. “We’ve made our choice on which side of this disagreement we stand. Just because you’ve decided to abstain from giving into your bloodlust doesn’t mean we should have to also. We are all individuals and capable of making up our own minds. We don’t need you to try and lead us around on a leash like we’re stray dogs.”
“I would never try to do that, but you Justin,” Mason said, narrowing his eyes on the other man, “can you say the same thing? I’ve been watching your schemes unfold and how you’ve used those around you to do your bidding. How can you stand there and tell me that you haven’t been using your fellow angels as pawns to further your own agenda? Have you even told them who you’re truly working for?”
This question captured my complete attention.
“What does he mean?” I asked Justin. “What aren’t you telling us?”
Justin studied me carefully for a moment as if weighing the consequences of answering my questions before answering.
“I’ve known about your attempts to locate Lucifer and thought it best not to tell you about his involvement with us just yet. But, since Mason has just forced my hand, I suppose I have no choice but to tell you now.”
“You work for Lucifer?” I asked, feeling my old hatred for the first angel ever created rise to the surface again.
“I work with Lucifer,” Justin stressed. “There is a significant distinction between the two concepts. We help each other achieve certain goals.”
I looked around at the other Watchers and asked, “Am I the only one who didn’t know this?”
None of my brothers said a word, which gave me the answer I needed.
“Lucifer is an arrogant ass,” Malcolm commented with a derisive snort, “but he stays out of our way for the most part. I’ve only had to deal with him recently because the Pope asked me to go to Spain to act as an inquisitor on the church’s behalf.”
I, of course, knew about the Spanish Inquisition that was taking place in Spain at that time. I just didn’t know Lucifer was involved in it.
“What is Lucifer doing there?” I asked Malcolm.
“At the moment, he inhabits the body of Tomas de Torquemada, the Grand Inquisitor,” Malcolm informed me. “He’s been in that body for quite some time actually. He’s been leading Queen Isabella around by the nose for a few years now, even before she married King Ferdinand. Lucifer gained her full trust when she was still only a princess. He’s the one who convinced Isabella she should marry Ferdinand so that they could combine their kingdoms and become much stronger together than apart. He’s been using them ever since to strengthen his own political influence and financial holdings. He even pushed them to ask the Pope to establish the Holy Office for the Propagation of the Faith in Spain. Now, there is a network of a couple of dozen Holy Offices on Spanish soil. I’ve been stationed at the one in Saragossa for a little while now.”
I turned to Justin.
“You should have told me,” I said accusingly. “You shouldn’t have hidden this information from me no matter what you thought my personal feelings were on the matter. I don’t like being lied to by people who expect me to trust them.”
“And would you have joined us if I had told you about our involvement with Lucifer?” Justin asked.
I didn’t answer right way. I had been looking for Lucifer for thousands of years by that point. Information concerning his whereabouts had eluded me up until that moment. I might not have liked the fact that Justin withheld the truth from me, but at least I now knew where Lucifer was. If I stayed with Justin and the other Watchers of his faction, I might eventually find a way to hurt Lucifer. It was my best alternative, my only one. I knew I still wanted to make him pay for his part in Andel’s death, and it was that desperate need for vengeance that kept me going most days.
“Yes,” I told Justin truthfully. “I would have.”
I looked over at both Mason and Desmond. If Mason knew about the connection between Justin and Lucifer, that could only mean one thing.
“How long have you known where Lucifer was?” I demanded of Desmond, feeling angry with him for the first time in my life. “How could you keep that information away from me after knowing how much I wanted to find him?”
“I couldn’t tell you,” Desmond replied, looking at me beseechingly for understanding. “I didn’t want you to lose what’s left of yourself, Aiden. It isn’t too late for you to leave your hatred behind and try to forge a new life for yourself.”
“I can’t even look at you right now, Desmond,” I said, literally turning my head away from him. “You need to leave before I do something I might regret.”
“I think you both need to leave,” Justin added.
“I will go,” Mason said, “but I want each of you to know that I am always available to you no matter what. If any of you decide the path Justin is leading you down isn’t the one you want to follow, I will continue to go to the desert at the same appointed time every year. You have my word I won’t judge you or the things you have done. I only want to help you.”
Mason and Desmond phased away.
Their visit only increased my appetite for a good fight. Without waiting to see how the tournament was actually supposed start, I reared back my right arm and slammed my fist against Slade’s jaw, causing him to fly backwards in the air until he hit one of the palm trees surrounding Justin’s home. This began an all-out, unrestrained brawl among us.
Malcolm and I both avoided one another during the battle. We eliminated the competition quickly until only the two of us remained. Pieces of our brethren lay haphazardly up and down the beach. The carnage was of no concern to us. It wasn’t as though we could actually kill one another, but the surest way to keep an angel out of a fight was to either behead them or tear a limb from their body. We knew by the time they all regenerated from their injuries that the match between Malcolm and I would be over.
“Alone at last,” Malcolm said with a grin. “Of course, I think we both knew this fight would end up being won by one of us.”
“No. I knew it would end up being won by me,” I said condescendingly. “You might as well save yourself some pain and effort, Malcolm. Why not surrender while your head is still attached to your body?”
Malcolm’s grin grew even wider, and I knew he took my words as more of a challenge than an insult.
“Do your worst, boy,” Malcolm taunted.
I phased in behind Malcolm and hit him squarely in the middle of the back, causing him to fly a few feet away and land face down in the sand. Before I could phase over to rip his head off, he phased in front of me and brought his fist straight up underneath my chin, forcing my head back so far it almost broke my neck. Malcolm reached out with both his hands to grab my head, but I phased in right beside him, grabbed his left arm, and tore it from its socket. I used Malcolm’s own arm like a baseball bat and swung it with all my might straight at the back of his head. Malcolm’s head flew through the air and down the coastline while his body slumped to the ground at my feet.