Revelation (The Keepers of the Teardrop Book 1)

by Simone Lari

  "Here, take it."

  He handed it to her. She drank, and in a short time the wounds healed completely.

  "Abraham?" insisted Sting.

  "He’s dust, now" she informed him, blankly.

  Alyna frowned in disappointment.

  "What happened?" Christopher asked her.

  "We were attacked by a group of at least four or five warrior vampires."

  "Duergar?"

  "I think… I think so."

  "How come the old man is dust and you, on the other hand, are still whole?" said Sting, suspicious.

  "What are you insinuating?" she retorted angrily, "Perhaps they thought they had killed me, or perhaps I was not their primary objective!" she suggested, pulling herself to her feet.

  "We must find the clan’s fortress and get to it, inform the elders of what happened and ask for protection" Sting was adamant.

  "No" argued Christopher. "Even assuming we manage to find it, seeing we have no idea where it is located, if we went there without announcing ourselves first, they would kill us without giving us time to draw breath. In addition, our assailants could follow us, using us to find out the main location of our clan."

  "Then we could look for another cell and join them."

  "Only Abraham knew the location of the other cells. By ourselves we have little possibility of finding one in a short time" Alyna told them.

  "So what can we do to reunite ourselves with our clan?"

  Christopher thought long and hard in the few minutes of silence that followed Sting’s question.

  "We'll ask the hunters" he stated.

  "Hunters?" Alyna repeated, amazed.

  "We stumbled across two of them, this evening. Perhaps they were the young men who eliminated the Tremein."

  "Are you mad? You want to ask for help from hunters?" she gasped, incredulous.

  "They could have the information we need" he confirmed.

  "And how would you do that? Even if we managed to find them, we can’t turn up and say, Oh excuse us, but do you have the address of our cousins by any chance?" objected Sting, suddenly falling silent a moment later. "Unless you're thinking of extorting this information from them with force. In that case, you'd find me fully in agreement with you."

  "You don’t know where they have their base and not even how many of them there are. And even if we were able to take one of them alive and interrogate him, it doesn’t mean that he has the information we need" Alyna argued.

  "Maybe they don’t have it, but they have a well-developed network of contacts in the territory: they could dig up the information. And we won’t use strong-arm tactics; we'll propose a quid pro quo to them."

  "What kind of quid pro quo do you mean?" asked the vampire girl.

  "We'll offer to help them track down and eliminate the Duergar clan that is active in our city."

  Sting stared.

  "You must be completely crazy!"

  "Not at all, try to reason. If we eliminated the clan that has caused Abraham’s death, we would be well received in the new group, and perhaps we could earn sufficient reputation and esteem to be able to aspire to living at the fortress of the fathers' house. If the Duergar that attacked us don’t work alone but are part of an organized group, then I fear that we have to expect something much more serious than an ambush in an alley or the death of an elder."

  "A war between clans? Started by the Duergar?"

  "It’s likely, Alyna."

  "Therefore we would offer the hunters a bargaining chip that in reality would be in our favor. It would be like getting two services from them without compensation... I like that idea!" exulted Sting.

  "But how are we going to get close to them without triggering a violent reaction?"

  "We'll need the girl for this as spokesperson: she'll act as an intermediary between us and them."

  "The girl? You mean the one I was about to have my way with in the alley? "

  Christopher gave him a filthy look, brimming with a bleak mixture of contempt and anger.

  "What's wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?" he burst out, astonished by that killer look.

  "She's exactly who I mean. Tomorrow, at nightfall, we shall try to find her and we'll convince her to help us" he said peremptory. "Now I'm going to repair the door and change the wheels on my bike. You stay on the alert, they could return" he concluded sharply.

  Sting lingered for several moments as his friend left the library and went outside the villa. Alyna looked at him with loathing, and he answered her blatant hatred with a mocking smile.

  "You have a great ass, congratulations." he stated nodding, a moment before leaving the room.

  "What?" she thundered confused and annoyed.

  Sting joined his friend, who was already messing about with the bike on the ground to remove the ripped tires.

  "Do you want to tell me what came over you earlier? What is so special about that girl to make you react so badly? "

  He did not answer to begin with then, perceiving the oppressive presence of Sting pacing up and down behind him, decided to give a brief explanation.

  "She reminds me a lot of…her. She is so identical that she could be the same person, at least physically."

  "You mean… Rachel?"

  Christopher nodded ruefully.

  He turned his gaze to the horizon, in the direction of the full moon high in the sky, veiled only by a thin layer of clouds.

  His mind wandered through his memories.

  The first to resurface were short images of his mortal life, simple moments of existence lived with his wife, in their modest home in a small village; then signing up for the Indian wars in the Mississippi area, and the forced separation from his beloved.

  The last flash of his mortal life was the gaze full of hatred of the Native American sinking his tomahawk into his chest.

  The gasping breath, the gaze fixed on his hands.

  The reawakening. A few hours before a telegram was delivered to his wife Rachel informing her of his death.

  Her face, astounded, frightened at first and then flooded with tears of joy, when she saw him again some months after. She didn't know, but now it was no longer the man she had married.

  The look that she drove into his soul as he revealed what he had become; that look full of determination when she expressed her desire to be exactly like him.

  Drunk with love, he turned his beloved into a vampire, but she was too young to be able to become a complete creature.

  Weakness and Rachel’s continual thirst for blood became ever more oppressive. Animal blood was not enough for her. So, tragically, they saw themselves forced to hunt human beings.

  Initially they fed only on beggars and prostitutes, people with no family that no-one would miss.

  Until the irreparable happened.

  That evening, Rachel’s thirst was insatiable and burning. He looked at her as she clenched her teeth in a desperate attempt to resist herself, as they pushed forward under the placid dance of shimmering snowflakes.

  She hugged herself more tightly into her overcoat. He felt her quiver with a gust of wind.

  "Take my scarf" he said quickly, taking it from his neck. He turned to his bride and realized that she was lagging behind.

  Rachel was staring intensely at the decadent facade of the orphanage. Her big blue eyes were screaming all the thirst that was burning bitter inside her. She took one step forward, hypnotized.

  "No!" screamed Christopher, stretching out to take hold of her.

  Blinded by the thirst, she pushed him away.

  The new blood that flowed in her veins had fortified her, while he, who was fasting, felt weakened and tired. She stared at him animated by the glacial fire of the desire for homicide.

  "They are only children, Rachel!"

  She smiled: a smile as cutting as a razor blade. "I want to taste the blood from their tender throats."

  "You cannot…"

  The sense of horror pervaded his veins. Without even t
hinking about it, he rushed at Rachel in an attempt to stop her.

  The struggle was grueling and violent. They hit at each other without restraint. Rachel was a mindless fury that responded to his attacks with unimaginable ferocity.

  She threw herself on him, trying to squeeze her hands around his throat in an attempt to strangle him. Christopher was afraid for the first time in his life as a vampire.

  He pushed her away with all the strength he could muster.

  Rachel fell backwards, collapsing onto a wheel which had been torn from a cart.

  She let out a desperate moan. With horror, Christopher saw that something was sticking out of her chest and her snow white clothes were being quickly tinged with red.

  The rear staff of the cart had pierced her from side to side.

  Rachel held out an arm toward him in a last attempt to hold him to her again, despite the pain. In the middle of the palm of her hand a wound opened slowly and began to burn like hot coals. More scorching lacerations appeared very quickly on Rachel’s body and he realized that spontaneous combustion had begun. She was dying.

  For a brief moment her gaze became almost human again; she seemed to be relieved that the end of a horrible nightmare had arrived.

  "Even if she reminds you very much of her, you have to understand that it is not her" came Sting's voice, pulling him from his memories. "In any case, now that I know why she is so important to you, I’ll keep away from her, my friend."

  Christopher nodded.

  "I appreciate that very much, and I ask you to forgive me for hitting you so hard in the alley."

  "Nah, it was nothing. But it was… strange."

  "What do you mean?”

  "It's like you were not the only one pushing me away from her, as if another force was pushing me away too. But, perhaps it was just an impression I had."

  Chapter 9 – Jared’s Chalet

  "Hey, are you in a daze?" asked Vans, shaking Gabriel’s shoulder.

  "What?"

  "You’re sitting there staring at the moon as though it’s a stinking werewolf, and you sigh, sigh…"

  "I wasn’t sighing, I've just got a bit of a cold" he justified himself.

  "Anyway, that chubby little girl with the ponytail and the Lara Croft breasts has a weakness for you, trust me."

  "What are you on about?"

  "It was obvious; she was hanging on your every word."

  "She only needed to understand, exactly like the other two. More to the point, do you think they’ll go and tell someone what happened tonight?"

  "I don’t think so" answered Vans confidently, as he looked at the road signs in search of the turn-off for Jared’s chalet.

  "Look we’ve already been past here before. Take the second on the right" he pointed out to his friend.

  "Hmm, ok."

  "If you don’t remember the way, why don’t you let me drive?"

  "No way! My car, my steering wheel. Be a good navigator and tell me where I have to go now."

  "To the left."

  "Roger!"

  Vans looked at his friend’s worried expression; gaze once again staring into space toward the landscape weakly illuminated by the side fog lights.

  "Don’t torment yourself; nothing will happen to the three girls. Those vampires will already be long gone; they wouldn’t want any more trouble tonight."

  "I know what I’m about to say is absurd, but if Angelique was in danger and called me, well, a part of me would be happy."

  "Yes, I imagine it would be a part under your belt…"

  "Idiot! It's impossible to talk about some things with you. Let's get back to work: what do you think of the Duergar' ambush?"

  "They weren't there for us, we just happened to be in the middle of a feud between rival clans, vampire stuff. Nothing we need to be concerned about; the more they kill each other, the less work there'll be to do."

  "I’d like it to be as simple as that, but something tells me that this story doesn’t finish here."

  "Who says so? Your boss up there among the clouds, the Lord your God? "

  "Stop it! You know perfectly well what my views are about that" he rebuked him sharply.

  "Of course, excuse me; it’s just that sometimes I can’t help it."

  "I know that all too well. Look, we’ve arrived." He pointed to the chalet in front of them.

  They got out of the car.

  The lights were still on inside the house. Jared came to the door: he rested his shotgun by the door and let them in.

  "You’re back early this evening. How come?"

  Kira came prancing down the last three creaky steps to the ground floor; trotting along as well as her three-legged condition would allow her, she went to Vans and began purring, rubbing her head on his ankles.

  The boy took her in his arms. She began to sniff him, suspicious.

  "Ah, yes, a bit of vampire stink must have stayed on me."

  "What? Have you had a fight with some vampires?" asked Jared, worried.

  "The story is a little complex. Is there some coffee by any chance?"

  "Yeah, I've just made it, come on."

  Putting the cat gently to the ground, the pair joined him at the kitchen table.

  "Hey, uncle, you're a very good housewife, really! Everything is very clean and tidy" Vans said sarcastically, inspecting the kitchen with quick glances.

  "I don't like living in a dunghill, and if I waited for you two slackers to roll up your sleeves, my beard would turn white."

  "Well, to tell the truth, you’ve got it already" the nephew ridiculed him, indicating his face.

  "Gabriel, come on, tell me about it" he urged impatiently.

  The boy gave him a detailed report on the events of the evening, from the arrival at the Black Sun to the identification of the two vampires, up to their intervention in the alley. The part that interested Jared most was the arrival of the two Duergar Zmeu that Vans outlined, extolling their heroic actions.

  "Empty boasting apart, is it all true?" the man asked.

  The two nodded repeatedly.

  "Are you sure they were Duergar?"

  "Not us, but the other vampire really seemed to be."

  "And the other two? In your opinion which clan did they belong to?"

  Gabriel shrugged.

  "I reckon they were some of those vulgar Morlands” Vans suggested.

  "What makes you think that?" asked his friend.

  "Both the ease with which they entered, and the way they convinced the girl to follow them into the alley. Shorty certainly didn’t have a great deal of charm, with red slicked back hair and those really tight leather pants."

  "I see that you had a good look at him. Any other details?" Jared ridiculed him.

  "If the girls hadn’t arrived, I’d have been in trouble" interrupted Gabriel.

  "Well, the long and lanky one was a pretty tough cookie too. I found the girl’s words strange, he helped me. I don’t know, perhaps he was simply contending her neck with his comrade, or perhaps the poor little thing was still under the influence of his mind control and had an distorted vision of what was happening around her."

  "In any case, I told you to stay out of trouble for a while, and you’ve already got yourselves into another mess again!"

  "What were we supposed to do?" growled Vans, "Let them have their way with that girl? No siree!"

  He lifted Kira with his undamaged arm and went out of the kitchen.

  He ran quickly up the stairs, mumbling a series of disconnected words and insults in a low voice, trying not to bounce the cat around too much. When he got to his room, he put it on the bed and lay down, being careful not to bump her.

  Kira quickly climbed onto his belly and began to snore with an insistent annoying rhythm.

  Vans crossed his hands under his head and stared at the worn-looking wood beams.

  He half-closed his eyes and immediately some images that he would have preferred not to remember came alive in his mind.

  A brown-haire
d girl was begging for help, becoming weaker and weaker.

  He was on the ground, in a pool formed by his own blood, while someone was pressing a combat boot on his sternum that he was afraid could shatter at any moment.

  A figure in a long leather coat was clutching the girl, pulling her hair hard and bending her head to the side, before sinking its teeth into her jugular.

  He remembered her blue eyes imploring for help. He recalled how he saw them slowly fade away, in the same way as his were slowly closing, and tired from the pain and the copious loss of blood.

  He remembered how his hand stretched toward the girl fell to the ground without strength, a moment after her eyes became still and devoid of life.

  He closed his eyelids, ready to exhale his last breath, when suddenly the stabbing pain in his chest disappeared.

  Friendly well-known voices rang out close by, together with the sounds of gunfire, inhuman screams and the trampling of combat boots.

  And Jared’s voice saying: She’s dead.

  Then the voice of his father who, ear to his heart, declared instead: He’s still alive.

  "She reminds you of her, doesn't she?" began Gabriel, from the door of the room.

  Vans opened his eyes and breathed deeply, grimacing at the pain in his wounded arm and Kira’s annoying little nails that were making their way through his sweater.

  "In a certain way, yes. It’s not that she looks like her all that much, but it was a very similar situation: the alley, a girl in danger and two damned vampires. History repeats itself."

  "This time it went better, though."

  "We can’t be sure; those two filthy things are still out there."

  "Ok, but you can't keep reflecting on those events, it's not good for you. It was your first job and you came out of it alive by a miracle."

  "You know that I dislike that word: miracles don't exist” Vans objected.

  "Okay, but now quit blaming yourself. How old were you, eh? Seventeen, eighteen?"

  "Sixteen."

  "Yes, that's right. You were a little boy just beginning."

  "I was a smug thing who was too sure of himself, who caused the death of the girl I should have saved. But this will not happen again, you can be sure of that!"

  Gabriel was not sure of his words, but he didn't want to argue; he preferred instead to change the subject.