by Al K. Line
Rikka and Dancer continued moving forward, Rikka's magic forcing the vampires back. But they were surrounded, and I watched, still doing nothing, seemingly safe from attack because of my proximity to Taavi, as a few of the vampires glowed as they summoned their own magic and got ready to kill.
They were vastly outnumbered and Taavi and they knew it. He licked his lips, keen to enter the fight, believing it would save him days or weeks of chipping away at what remained of our communities until we gave in and let him control us.
"Maybe not one wizard and necromancer, and by the way he likes to be called a mage, but how about this?" I pointed behind them as at least fifteen men and women, all somberly dressed like Dancer, looking like a collection of funeral directors, spread out in a line as they lifted their hands in unison at Dancer's direction.
"Pathetic. Is this the best you can do?"
"No. Watch."
A nightmare vision from beyond the grave came scrambling and rushing manically from behind the necromancers, humans and animals alike. Some in half-animal, half-human form, others with battered and mangled bodies, but many as the creatures they had shifted into during life, now re-animated.
There was only one thing on their minds. Revenge for what had been done to them. A final chance, an hour of life given back to them by the collective necromancer power.
Bears, dogs, cats—yeah, I know—wolves, a few horses, tigers, and most terrifying of all, the body of Plum, dark and beautiful even in death, they all came charging toward us at full pelt.
The screams of reanimated animals and humans filled the night as hell came to vampire HQ.
Just Watching
Taavi pulled an evil, curved blade from beneath an elegant and timeless jacket, snarling like a cornered animal as the reality of the situation sank in.
Dead witches, presumably found beneath the rubble of the flattened witch HQ, howled like banshees as they tore at the vampires in a frenzy of unworldly loathing, scratching and clawing in a madness and fury that made me sick. They were worse than animals, unstoppable in their hatred for what had been done to them, for all that had been taken. Increasingly overwhelmed by the extent of the carnage, I watched, unable to act, as they tore through vampires ill-prepared for such an unholy attack.
They couldn't be bitten and turned, these women were already dead, the same as the shifters. Vampire bites would lead to no infection, would never stop them. Nothing would. They were reanimated, fighting with the intensity and wild abandon of those with absolutely nothing to lose.
They were against the clock, all of them well aware they had limited time before the necromancers would lose the deep control needed for such dark magic use. They fought knowing this.
A group chased up toward the house, intent on the retreating figures of the twins and Kaisa Hayashi. I saw the twins' reaction, stark under the strong lights. They nodded at each other before throwing the disgraced witch Head to the ground, then dashed up to the house faster than I'd ever seen them move. Gone in a blur of speed, seeking sanctuary.
The witches were on her as she hit the ground. All the fury, hate, disappointment, and more, unleashed against the one woman they had believed they could trust above all others. The woman that had led to their destruction.
Kaisa Hayashi was no match for them in her weakened state, even with the powerful magic she could summon. It was too little, too late, and as I saw bodies blow apart and brains splatter, they kept at her, pouncing and clawing as blood mingled with tears.
Then she was there, alone in the dark-stained grass, the cold lights highlighting exactly what had been done, the witches vengeance made real. The once proud woman's face was clawed and raked down to the bone, eyes plucked and unseeing, throat stomped to pulp. Dead.
On and on it went, vampire after vampire tearing at throats of women and animal alike, but it hardly slowed them down. Taavi watched too, motionless, knife held in front of his tall and slender body like it could save him from such unstoppable retribution. He was lost, unable to think of a way to turn the tide and emerge victorious.
More of his kind fell as the shifters dragged them down and piled on in a blur of fur and sleek pelts, ripping and tearing, snarling and chewing, devouring them alive. Spilled vampire blood magic filled the air, increasing the shifters' frenzy, sending them wild as it took them. Their ferocity grew ever more intense as they were lost to the animal inside.
It became obvious that the shifters recognized the ones that had attacked them. The punishment was too much to watch, too extreme and base to even think about now—cruel beyond belief. None of it made things right. Not the crimes committed, or the vengeance taken. It was barbarism as only human, or once human, seem able to perform. Inflicting pain for the pleasure and the sense of satisfaction it delivered. Humans misguided even in death. But this was their fight and I couldn't stop it even if I wanted to.
The battle morphed from vampires attacking and trying to cut down the numbers, to one of a hunt. The vampires came to realize they didn't stand a chance as animals snapped at their heels and magic slammed into them from wizards. And Rikka himself was now a part of the madness, blasting out at anything that came close, sending them flying through the air as though they were nothing.
I was transfixed, just like Taavi. How I could bear it, I'm still not sure. My mind was split, detached and cold, the only way I could witness such acts and remain sane. Saddened beyond belief, the mental barrier fractured, I observed as Plum shimmered back and forth between lithe human and sleek panther, pouncing at vampires, ripping and shaking her head wildly as they succumbed one after the other.
Turning to Taavi, I knew it was time. He had to die for what he'd done and then it would be over. No more madness, no more killing of innocents. One more death, then peace.
By the power of my focus, and the will held inside of me, I saw this ancient man before me crumble to dust as I pictured a sun as bright and rare as a clear day in Cardiff glow and burn fiercely. Magic made real, and deadly, my abdomen glowed yellow and hot as stolen power swirled and gathered the energy from the Empty that roasted my insides in my mind if not my body. I let it out with a scream that tore at my throat as the night sky turned to day.
My body became the sun. I was thrown backward by the force of my own focus, directing the magic that needed its release, shielding my eyes as I found myself on the ground while a blinding yellow light ripped the air.
Then, for a moment, there was silence. No howls, no moans, no cries, just emptiness. Pure and beautiful. Empty.
I groaned, clutching at my belly, afraid to look down but knowing I had to. I genuinely expected my insides to be burned away, a hollow vacuum of death with my mind following a moment later. But I was whole, my shirt not even scorched.
Oh, but that sickness, such a terrible thing. It claimed me then, like it never has before and I hope it never will again. It was like every hurt I had ever experienced because of magic use came to me simultaneously, claiming what was stolen, making me pay. My skin felt like it had blistered, split and popped into heat as hot as the mini sun I had just channeled. It was all in my mind, I knew this. Yet still it built, never reaching a crescendo.
Nothing can compare to that feeling, has ever come close. If I could, I would have torn my head off, anything to escape the pain that became my world, my existence. I tried to crawl inside of myself, curl up into a ball of nothingness and become empty, or dead, or lose my limbs or my mind—anything to make it stop.
"No!" I screamed. "No more." And, somehow, I won.
Night returned, and with it the howls of the dead and the dying, the animals and the humans. I was whole, somehow standing. Magic was gone, and with it the hurt of a million summonings. I stood there, grass burned to dust in a wide circle, piles of ash where vampires had once stood. With such an act the vampires' true age had returned to them, no blood magic left to hide behind any longer and keep them whole.
Others were still alive though. The younger ones, those outside the radius
of the magic. So the battle raged all around me once again, seemingly having never stopped, just in my mind. And there, in front of me, gleaming cold steel poked out of a pile of dust. Taavi's knife.
I don't know what I expected, maybe for everything to end there and then. You know, like in the Wizard of Oz. The witch is dead, kind of thing, except in this case the witch was dead and so was the vampire.
But everyone just carried on fighting.
It kind of sucked.
Strangely Strange
I was numb inside, drained by the sheer volume of magic I'd taken in then expelled, becoming vampire death, anathema, daylight and a chance of hope. Unthinking, I picked up Taavi's knife, my hand coated in his dust. It felt too easy, even though it had been the hardest few minutes of my life. Was that it? Finally over?
I stared at the beautiful blade, my body and mind enchanted and still while all around me the carnage raged and cries filled the air. There were less now, human screams replaced by the sounds of the building being breached. Trolls hammered at, and heaved away, large chunks of wall, as vampires emerged through debris, their home no longer a safe place to hide.
The twins came running from where they had retreated, witness to what happened, but outside the effects of my brief sun. Bret and Bart, five foot nothing of solid Chinese muscle looking as hard as any troll, roared as they ran at me, punching and slapping away women and beasts alike that converged on them, but without the intensity of the first few waves of attack.
I could see the utter ferocity waning. They were still as fast and vicious as a den of demons, but something was missing. Their souls were being called away, back to their afterlives where they should be, here only because of the power and focus of the necromancers.
For a moment, I caught sight of Dancer standing next to Rikka, necromancers aligned either side of them under Rikka's protection. Some were out cold, unable to hold on to so many bodies, others were visibly straining, shaking as if in the middle of a seizure.
Dancer was ashen, sweating and close to collapse. A single person could be reanimated for days at a time with little effort by the likes of Dancer, the magic given and slowly seeping away with nothing much more needed on his part, but multiple bodies, and bodies that had to be as fast and agile as in life, that was a different matter entirely.
Not good for me with the twins bearing down, and my magic spent. If I tried to use more I would be toast. They'd rip me to bits as I struggled to call up even a weak protective shield that wouldn't be enough to save me.
So I ran away. My legs still worked, so what the hell, right? Don't tell me you wouldn't do the same. Two vampire goons who had been by the side of their master for centuries and had just watched him killed are not the best reason to hang around, but they are the perfect reason to run away.
With my ability to draw magic almost nonexistent, I thought it was the end for me. What could I do against angry vampires when I was almost a Regular? I could fight. Yes, I would get as clear as I could and I would fight them. No way was I giving up now, not when I was so close to victory. I mean "I" in the communal sense. Everyone else did a bit too!
Across the grounds, away from the screams and the never-ending pain, I ran as fast as my legs would carry me. Problem being they weren't acting as I'd intended. They were slow, sluggish, weighed down by my own horror and sickness at what I'd unleashed, and allowed to happen. But this was what needed to be done, otherwise it would have been the end of us all. I would not let that happen.
I made it away from the glare of the lights, into darkness and a feeling of safety. The welcome night was short-lived though, as new blinding lights flashed into being when I reached the perimeter and the motion sensors of floodlights kicked in.
For a beautiful moment I was alone, yet I felt like I was standing in the middle of a packed stadium, me the only one on the pitch, fifty thousand pairs of malevolent eyes staring at me, waiting for me to do something so they could celebrate my demise. I didn't know what to do, where to go, or even if there was anywhere to go.
Howls and screams that had dominated were easing by the minute, the last of the vampires being picked off. It wasn't the end of them—there were many more throughout the city, of that I was certain—but these were the ones that worshiped Taavi, kept close, part of the inner circle and utterly under his thrall.
At least Kate was free now. Taavi was her owner, now I'd killed him. Kate could do as she wished, no longer beholden to anyone. Free to do what she wanted without fear of reprisal.
She was safe, with Grandma and the children, and I knew that if I died right there and then I would have been happy to have done enough to at least have kept them safe and given Kate her future back. A future I wanted to be a part of.
I stood there, a frightened rabbit in the headlights of hell, alone and weak, and she made me stronger.
"No, I won't go out like this." So I ran back, toward the madness, and I swore I would never run away again. Stupid thoughts, born of adrenaline and lack of focus. Foolishness. Don't listen to me, as often running is definitely a good idea, especially with vampires wanting to rip out your throat and nibble on your windpipe.
Yet that's what I did. I moved as fast as I could straight back at them, and I met the twins coming at me. They were clearly exhausted, shell-shocked and uncertain as they kept doing the fast forward thing in small jumps, moving six feet or so in a burst of speed, then running slowly, then jumping forward again.
I kept running at them, trying to get the timing right as they closed the gap, and as they blinked out of existence for a moment I surged forward, weaving to my left, knife moving behind my back then slicing around as I kept going. I felt, rather than saw the connection made with the blade. Then I heard the grunt.
Turning, I could see I'd made contact with Bret or Bart, who knows which. He was doubled over, hands red, belly exposed through his ruined green shirt, a startlingly white button somehow catching my attention as I took in lungfuls of air and kept going.
Yeah, I would fight, but I can't deny I hoped maybe the shifters, or Rikka, or somebody would help rather than me facing it alone.
And then I saw him. Taavi, risen from the grave, back in the middle of it all, shouting, arms up and beckoning his people to him.
I ran right at him, screaming. I'd make that sick freak pay. This time he would stay dead.
Impossible Guilt
As Taavi called in a voice weirdly alien—to be expected since he was ash moments ago—vampires came at his call from all directions. Maybe a third of his House were still alive, but many of them were seriously wounded. Unfortunately, it was nothing that wouldn't repair over time. I saw red and couldn't contain myself. I didn't care if my magic was gone and that I was sure to die, not any longer.
Taavi had to die, he just had to. So I ran and I stumbled and I almost fell, but I kept my balance and tried to think. How had he come back? Because he was so damn powerful, that was how. I'd decimated him but it wasn't enough. A spark was still in there and that was all it took for his body to reassemble.
I didn't doubt for a moment it was partly because of the power he had taken from the witches, from Kaisa Hayashi and the others. They had fueled him, filled him up to brimming with their magic. He had fed and fed on humans for two thousand years, and now on the witches, taking in their blood magic and it had made him seemingly indestructible.
I didn't care.
Then my stomach dropped out the bottom of my legs. Okay, not literally, but I understood exactly how Taavi had risen from the dust. It was the damn vial that the Chemist had given me. It was in the pocket of my discarded jacket and must have broken as Taavi collapsed and died. As whatever potion it contained soaked into the ash it reanimated him, giving him a second chance at life.
With a scream, and a desperate final attack, I shoved at the backs of the vampires called to him, unaware of me in their dazed and battered condition. A final shove of a bony back, and I was within the circle, close and single-minded.
&
nbsp; Before I took another step, Taavi just, well, he exploded! That's the only way I can describe it because that's what happened. I don't even know that it was truly him, not really. There was no splatter of gore, rather, it was merely the dust he had been moments before. I think he was just too damn determined to let even death stop him, and consuming so much magic for so many years had given him that final surge of power, one last, desperate clutch at immortality.
Nevertheless, ash rained down as foul as a goblin's underwear. Through the dirty mess stepped Rikka, in full-on mage mode, hair wild like he'd set a hair dryer to maximum, body bright and terrible as he muttered under his breath, still believing it made him look cool to chant nonsense rather than just get on with blasting magic at the vampires.
That is what he did though. He sent out thick tendrils of death at the amassed vampires, cutting them down as he threw his arms about like he was on the dance floor. Rikka flung hell in the form of lumps of concentrated magic at the bodies even as they fell, giving it his all.
The vampires changed, shriveling before our eyes as the blood magic left them and they showed their true age. Most of them were dust like Taavi in a second, while others were left as weak old men and women, now nothing but sick and ancient Regulars that could do nothing but weep for what they had lost and could never regain.
Our eyes met as he turned. He scared the hell out of me as he shot death from pointed fingers, the air alive either side of my head as that familiar tingle of magic passed me by. He nodded, and I returned the gesture. I didn't even bother to look at what he'd done—I knew he'd dealt with the twins.
