by Craig Zerf
‘I’m sorry, sergeant,’ he responded. ‘We are no longer at liberty to issue the UV Grenades. Or any silver plated weapons.’
‘Why?’
‘His Holiness has decreed that there is no use for them.’
Otto laughed. ‘Good for him,’ he said. ‘Vampires don’t exist so anti-Vampire ordnance is unnecessary. Brilliant. What a moron.’
‘Please!’ Gasped the quartermaster. ‘You verge on blasphemy and sedition.’
‘I don’t verge upon it, my friend,’ stated Otto.
Muller held up his hand. ‘You read the Kaplan’s letter?’ He asked.
The quartermaster nodded.
‘You saw that it stated that I am to receive, “Anything that I request for a mission that is imperative to the survival of the Church”?’
‘I saw that, but…’
‘No buts, corporal. One case of UV Bombs. Also, I need two army Vegetato rucksacks for all the gear. Move it now, the clock is running.’
The quartermaster nodded and started to grab the required weapons and stack them on the steel desk.
‘What the hell is a UV Bomb?’ Asked Otto while they waited.
‘It’s about twice the size of a hand grenade,’ answered Muller. ‘Basically you use it as a flash-bang for Vampires. Pull pin, chuck into room, a millisecond flash of ultra powerful UV light. Disorientates them, burns their skin, blinds them for a few seconds. Gives you a slight edge when you’re going into a room full of them.’
‘And the machetes?’
‘Best way to kill a Vamp is to chop their head off. Also they hate silver. Burns them like acid and slows their healing process down.’
Otto raised an eyebrow. ‘I can see why the Kaplan doesn’t expect to see us coming home.’
Muller smiled. ‘I’m still around and I’ve been doing this for ten years now.’
‘True,’ responded Otto. ‘Still, doesn’t sound like the safest job in the world.’
Muller didn’t answer as he picked up one of the full rucksacks and gestured for Otto to do the same. With a nod the two of them left the armory.
There was still over an hour until they could pick up their suits so Muller led Otto to one of the myriad of small canteens that were dotted about the inner corridors of the main building. A simple hole on the wall, two long tables with benches. There was no menu, you got what was being served. Today it was Pasta e Fagioli, thick bean soup with pasta and hunks of bread. The soup was nourishing. The bread was stale. But the two warriors Wolfed the large helpings down, cleared their places and set off to the tailors.
An hour later the two killers emerged from the tailors wearing their new suits and carrying their rucksacks. The suits would have cost many thousands of Dollars in any high street tailors, perfectly cut and made from the very best cloth.
So now instead of simply looking like two killers, Muller and Otto look like two killers in expensive handmade Italian suits.
Two killers with a mission.
Chapter 6
Nathan marveled at how easy any task became if you were able to throw almost limitless quantities of cash at it. He had traveled from England to Italy with over fifty Bloodwraiths and two hundred Familiars, unnoticed by any border patrols and under the cover of darkness.
They had purchased an A330-200 Airbus via a shell company based in Egypt and fronting as a test company for Egypt-Air. Usually this would involve a six to eight month delay but a few judicious payments to the correct people in the chain and Nathan’s order had been bumped to the front of the queue. Four days later the Airbus landed at Manston Airport, even though it had officially been closed down. Three blacked out tour bus had delivered the passengers and, after taking off and landing at a private airfield some twenty miles outside Rome, a fleet of limousines had transported Nathan and his Bloodwraiths to the Castel Gandolfino, the formal residence of the Capo di tutti capi, Janus Augusta, the head of the entire World Vampire Federation. An ancient Vampire who was obsessed with finding the fabled Corona Potestatem. An artifact that was said to be a part of the Sword Excalibur. And it was also rumored to be the one thing that could change a Vampire into a Daywalker. Protecting the Nosferatu from the devastating effects of the sun as well as allowing them to subsist on normal food as opposed to a diet of human blood.
The Vampire who gained possession of the Potestatum would easily become one of the most powerful beings in existence.
Hence the Capo’s obsession.
Personally, Nathan thought that it was a mere myth. Like the fountain of youth or the ability to turn base metals to gold. He also believed that a true Vampire would have no need of the Potestatum to become the most powerful creature in the world. He would merely need strength and dedication.
And Nathan had both of those qualities in spades.
Castel Gandolfino stood on a hill that overlooked the village of Gandolfino, looming over it like a huge, gray stone toad. Ugly and uncompromising. From the outside the building looked abandoned. The crenellations crumbled and the walls covered with creepers, shabby and unkempt. It was only when one got closer that it became obvious that the dilapidated exterior was mere camouflage. Like a Stone Fish, lurking unseen, waiting to poison an unsuspecting passerby. A predator posing as an old herbivore. The inside, however, was a different story.
Opulence is a mere word until one has truly been exposed to it. Thousands of years of money and power had created a sumptuousness that beggared belief. Art both old and new, hand woven carpets from the east, crystal chandeliers and hand carved mahogany wall panels. Millions upon millions of Dollars worth of luxury gathered by countless people over millennia.
And it transcended mere beauty. To Nathan it was like the eighth wonder of the world, so truly magnificent was it.
The village boasted a population of over two hundred. Every one of the villagers was in thrall to the Capo and they all owed him, quite literally, their lives. For with a mere thought he could condemn any one of them to death. And you could not run far or fast enough to escape his wrath. Those born in the village of Gandolfino stayed in Gandolfino. Forever. Or at very least until they died. Or became food.
Nathan and his entourage had been allocated quarters in the north wing of the building. The Bloodwraiths shared two to a room. The Familiars and servants were stacked and racked, triple bunks, nine bodies to a room with shared toilet facilities and a common room to eat in.
The ex-Shadowhunters room was a vast open plan sleeping, sitting, dining area. All windows were covered with rubber-backed drapes to keep out the sun and light was provided by subtle concealed lighting. There was a four poster bed, a massive fireplace. Two Degas’, a Bellini, a Picasso and a Klimt vied for attention on the walls, their contrasting styles complimenting each other as opposed to clashing. Nathan took in the whole effect and realized that the room had been put together by someone with a very good eye. Perhaps a professional. He was well pleased. He felt that it was a room befitting his position…even though it may not be fitting to the position that he was aiming to advance to in the very near future.
The Shadowhunter-Vampire hybrid stood in the middle of the room and concentrated. Centering his focus. Envisaging the new path that he had set himself. Becoming his own future.
Then he left, heading for the throne room. Heading for an audience with the Capo di tutti capi. A Vampire who had been in existence for over 3000 years. Alive before the Roman Empire had even started. A Vampire that had declared Nathan Tremblay to be a Caporegime, a title that donated the holder was so close to the Capo as to be almost a member of his own family. An honor that was given to very few. And never before to anyone as young and as new as Nathan.
The Vampire guards standing at the doors to the throne room stood aside as Nathan approached, opening the double doors, ushering him in and then closing them behind him.
Unusually, the master of masters was seated alone. Apart from the naked corpse of a young boy that lay broken and exsanguinated on the floor next to him. The light in the thron
e room was provided by smoking torches that burned in steel sconces. A fire blazed high in the vast open fireplace. Carpets and animal skins covered the stone floors and walls and rows of wooden benches filled the front part of the room close to the throne. Much like a church.
Nathan approached the Capo and fell to his knees in front of him. ‘Father,’ he greeted. ‘My pleasure in seeing you is boundless.’
Janus smiled, his overlong, permanent fangs pressing against his bottom lip. ‘And I am pleased to see you, child,’ he responded. ‘As am I both sad and perturbed to hear of your most recent setback.’
‘It is nothing, father,’ said Nathan. ‘War with the Wolves was inevitable. Rather sooner than later. And now we have broken them. Destroyed them utterly.’
‘For the loss of fifty of our finest.’
Nathan shrugged. ‘We shall replace them. It is of no real concern.’
The Capo snarled and Nathan’s head snapped up in surprise.
‘How dare you deem the true death of so many ancient brethren to be of no real concern? Many of them were over 500 years old. A collective loss of over 20 000 years of existence. Because you did not take adequate care. Because of you and your own private agenda. You let your hatred of a little girl cloud your judgment, your jealousy and your obsession with her, young Caporegime. The Nosferatu are not yours to use as you will. They are mine and mine alone.’
The Capo stood, his ancient and withered body seeming to barely be able to balance on his bent legs, his back a curved reminder of his venerability. ‘Everything that you are is because of me. I am everything…you are nothing. Bear that in mind. I am the Capo di tutti capi. I am the power.’
Nathan sneered as he stood up. His physical presence was palpable, his eyes glowed red with potency and his steel-cable musculature was visible even beneath his clothing.
‘No,’ he declaimed. ‘You are not the power. You are a fossil. A dinosaur. The Nosferatu should be the dominant species on the planet, instead we are forced to skulk in the darkness like rats or cockroaches.’
The Capo shook his head. ‘You know nothing, child. Look at what your last debacle cost us. Now, this is what is going to happen. You are young. Callow. But you are still undeniably the Scarlet Warrior. But you need to learn. From this moment on you will answer to a group of elders chosen by me. They shall be made up of six members and shall be referred to as the Forever Council. Perhaps their collective wisdom will teach you something.’
Nathan laughed. ‘Or perhaps we could do things my way.’
And the ex-Shadowhunter attacked. He moved so fast that the air imploded into the space that he had just vacated with a miniature thunderclap. He covered the twenty feet in less than one hundredth of a second. Traveling at slightly under the speed of sound.
But the Capo was no longer there.
Nathan crashed into the throne and rolled on the floor before the pain hit him like a steam driven hammer-mill. Smashing him to the ground, breaking the bones in his legs and causing blood to jet from his ears and eyes and nose.
Never before had he experienced such agony. It was too intense for him to scream. Or even to move. Again and again he was pummeled and crushed by an unseen force until every bone in his body had been pulverized to mere fragments.
Then as quickly as the attack had started, it stopped.
His Shadowhunter enhanced body started to heal, knitting the fragments of bone together and rebuilding his pulverized internal organs until, after a few minutes, he could move his head. He looked up to see the ancient Capo standing over him, a look of mild amusement on his emaciated face. Peering at him like he was an exhibition in a circus side show. Some minor amusement worth a few seconds of attention before moving on.
Nathan willed his body to heal, using his hatred to recover. As soon as he could he lunged for the decrepit old Vampire, determined to tear his throat out.
And once again he was hammered to the floor in a tsunami of unbearable agony.
The Capo laughed. ‘Magnificent,’ he said. ‘Even after all of this torture you still fight back. You truly are the Red Horse. The Scarlet Warrior sent to bring the Nosferatu to ascendency.’
Once again the pain stopped and Nathan lay quivering on the stone floor, waiting for his bones to knit.
The Capo walked back to his throne, sat down and watched Nathan with interest. After a few minutes the ex-Shadowhunter rose painfully to his feet, staggered over to the throne and knelt in front of his master, his head down. Silent.
Time passed. Ten minutes. Twenty.
Finally. ‘Forgive me, Father.’
The Capo’s laugh sounded like a two rocks being ground together. ‘Youthful exuberance,’ he said. ‘You are ambitious. I expected no less. But I have told you how things will work from now on. You will formulate your plans, you will then report to the Forever Council who will say yea or nay and you will carry out their instructions. After a while we will revisit your portfolio. Remember, Nathan, you are the Red Horse. You are vitally important to the Nosferatu. But it is not your place to lead. Not yet at least. Now we will talk no more of this incident.’
‘Thank you,’ breathed Nathan, his voice filled with a new found respect.
The Capo waved his hand. ‘Go. I will call when I need you.’
Nathan left the room.
Chapter 7
Tag sat under an Oak tree, his back leaning against the trunk. In his left hand a cigarette. In his right a half finished bottle of Jack Daniels. It was perhaps an hour after breakfast. Not yet nine o’clock in the morning. But the big man’s eyes had a hunted look that even half a bottle of hard spirits did little to erase.
Troy walked over and sat down beside him, his feet totally silent on the grass and twigs. Almost as though he walked above the ground and not on it. He too lit up a cigarette.
‘So, big man,’ he greeted. ‘Early morning party?’
Tag grunted and took another pull on the bottle.
‘Something bothering you?’ Asked the young Wolf.
‘No,’ denied Tag. ‘I always drink myself silly every morning.’
Troy didn’t push the issue. Instead he simply sat still and waited. If the big man wanted to talk he would do so in his own time.
‘Seen Em?’ Asked Tag.
Troy nodded. ‘Saw her go to her room just as the sun came up. She’ll be out for most of the day. She’s proper nocturnal now.’
A brief look of relief flashed across Tag’s face. ‘So she won’t want feeding then. Not until tonight.’
Troy nodded in agreement. ‘Not for a few hours.’ He looked closely at the big man before he continued to speak. Choosing his words carefully so as not to inadvertently insult the Jamaican. ‘So this feeding business,’ he said. ‘Takes a bit out of you?’
Tag nodded. ‘But it’s the least that I can do. Can’t have the girly eating innocents and turning them. So we got no choice. Anyhow, I should have saved her. It’s my fault that she is what she is.’
‘No,’ denied Troy. ‘It’s all of our faults. And it’s none of our faults. We couldn’t have foreseen the events that unfolded.’
Tag shrugged. ‘I should never have let her leave my side. Whatever the circumstances.’
‘Does it hurt?’ Asked Troy.
Tag didn’t answer for a while. Instead he drank some more and then lit another cigarette. Finally he reacted. ‘Sylvian told me that when a Vamp feeds on someone it’s a real pleasurable feeling for that person. That’s why so many Familiars allow it. It’s almost like sex or something.’ He took a long pull of Jack. ‘I haven’t found that to be the case. In fact I would say that it would be the direct opposite. Not only is it the most physically painful thing that I have ever experienced, it also hurts on a different level.’
‘What do you mean?’
Tag shook his head. ‘Man, I don’t know how to explain it.’ He thought for a while. ‘It’s sorta like…I don’t know. Like having your soul ripped out. Like all of the life is torn from your body, leaving a bla
ck hole. An abyss that you have to refill on a daily basis. I mean, it’s like being dead and alive at the same time. It’s dark, man. Really dark.’
‘That’s heavy,’ commented Troy. ‘I wonder why Emily’s different.’
‘I spoke to the Prof,’ said Tag. ‘He reckons it might be because Em is so powerful. You see, the whole thing with Vamps is that they feed for two reasons. One is the blood, the other is the hunt. In short, the Prof says that they need to kill as much as they need to eat. Problem is that I can’t be killed. But that doesn’t stop the girly Vampire from trying. And because she be so powerful, the Prof reckons that she is literally trying to rip the life outta me.’ Tag shuddered. ‘It can’t be done but she gives it a good go.’ He took another slug of whisky, closed his eyes and lay back against the Oak again. ‘Tonight,’ he said. His voice little more than a whisper. ‘She’ll feed again tonight.’
Troy sat with the big man for a while longer. After ten minutes Tag fell asleep, his head lolling to one side, the almost empty bottle beside him.
The young Wolf left, heading inside. He needed to talk to William. Or maybe Merlin. He needed to see if there was something that they could do to ease Tag’s suffering.
Chapter 8
Over the years the Knights of the Holy See had built up a literal army of informers. With over fifty thousand priests and almost sixty million Catholics in Italy it was difficult for anyone to get away with any form of major sin let alone Vampirism.
In fact the Knights’ biggest problem had always been an overload of information. However, over the years, they had built a system wherein all info was carefully sifted through by the local priest who would then pass the facts on to the diocesan priest in charge of one of the two hundred and twenty five dioceses. These senior priests would then relay what they perceived to be the real cases on to the Kaplan at the Vatican and he would make a final decision on whether or not the Knights would get involved.
Nine times out of ten the Kaplan decided that the Knights involvement was unnecessary. And even when they did get involved perhaps only one in fifty incidents actually involved supernatural forces. Vampires, WereWolves, demonic possession or other various creatures of the night.
